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I had recently separated from my wife and decided that I would rent my spare rooms to some students. I needed the money. Why it wasn't a house, which would have worked better for renting, it was a big condo. It was the ground floor (and basement) of a triplex.
It was long. In the front there was a living room and den, as one large semi-divided room. Across the hall was my office on the right, then a bathroom and then the guest bedroom. Through a doorway there was a large dinning room and kitchen, separated only by an awning, so basically one big open concept. In the back off the kitchen there was my master bedroom and a large bathroom in suite.
There are stairs in the dinning room that run down to a basement where there is a large spare room, a TV room and a large washroom that has the washer and dryer in it.
While the front bedroom was a guest room, for a number of years, my wife had been sleeping there instead of in the master bedroom with me. So when we separated it came as no surprise.
She had been younger than me. I am a university professor who teaches politics and she and I had met through a colleague when she was starting her masters in nursing. I was the one who talked her into doing a Ph.D. and becoming an academic and when she got a teaching post at a different university in a different city we both knew it was over.
She was typical of the girls I had dated. She was blond and, yes obviously, young.
My friends used to joke about her (and my previous blond girlfriends) that if we even had kids my dominant genes would ruin her recessive ones. I have brown hair and eyes, hairy chest (hair doing down from my chest, hair on my legs and ass and ample pubes). While I am very white, I am not pale, I am a Caucasian who is hairy. There is no way I could have blond kids.
As for why we didn't work out I think a big part of the problem was the condo and furniture was mine before I met her. She just moved in to a furnished apartment and stayed with me as she went to university. So when she finished there were no ties to bind us, and she just moved out. My divorce attorney joking refers to her as a 'renter'.
So it was no big change now to decide to rent the extra rooms to a student. I just wouldn't marry them this time.
My wife had basically been a student tenant, especially once we stopped having sex. What could possibly be different taking on a new student? I had already been sharing my condo with a student I didn't see that often (doing a Ph.D. is a busy undertaking) and who I wasn't having sex with (at least for the last few years).
My wife was attractive. She was exactly the type I like. But as our lives got complicated I found it easier not to have sex as that felt like it would complicate things further.
We had problems just sleeping in the same bed. Her legs would twitch as she fell asleep, which I think is normal for a lot of people. But I am a light sleeper and once awake don't go back to sleep for hours. So she opted to sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb me and the less we slept together the less we wanted to.
Now I was alone in a big condo. I was also short of cash. Renovations, divorce and now some changes in my course load were taking a toll.
So I placed an ad on the off-campus website, one for the basement and one for the guest room. They each could have their own bathrooms more or less (we would all need to do laundry in the basement bathroom).
A number of the responses to my ads were clearly scam artists. They were women claiming to be moving to my city and described themselves as clean, quiet, loving to read and a myriad of other personal information that no one serious about renting would put in an introductory e-mail (and often had spelling mistakes).
Of course, never having rented to strangers before, I didn't immediately realize they were scams. It was only when the first person who claimed to be coming for a job and said she was currently travelling and her employer would send me a cheque directly I clued in. A cheque, or something looking like a cheque (I am sure it wasn't a real cheque drawn on a real bank account), arrived in an amount several thousand dollars more than the first month's rent. When I contacted her about this she then explained that the larger amount was to cover her airline ticket.
I guess I was expected to cash this fake cheque and either buy her a ticket she would cash in or wire her the money before my bank told me the cheque wasn't real. Do people fall for this? I guess there are lots of lonely guys out there.
Eventually I could spot the fake people. They were always women, travelling, who were flirty right from the start, telling me way too much about their personalities. Trying to establish a friendship more than a rental unit.
While I could quickly spot the fakes, eventually, it was still annoying. I needed the money and it was wasting my time.
Eventually I found two students who were serious. Both were male and engineering students. One was coming from China and the other from Egypt. I made them provide copies of their acceptance letters from the university to verify they were students and some other documentation to prove they existed.
I knew it was a gamble accepting tenants without having met them. But I did really need the money. And at least I knew they were genuine students. As a teacher I like and trust students (only a handful disappoints).
The student from Egypt arrived first, about a week before classes. The Chinese student was delayed due to a problem with his visa.
The Egyptian was nice. He was smaller than me but he had a firm body. He looked not exactly built but sold. He had flawless golden brown smooth skin. I was struck right away by how his features were not harsh as I often see in Arab and Persian students from the region but almost western in appearance. It made me remember that Egypt had been ruled by the Greeks from the time of Alexander. If his skin hadn't been dark golden brown there would have been no way to know he was from Egypt.
In stead, due to his flawless brown skin he looked like an Egyptian god. Mohamed was his name and he settled in the basement. As he was the first to arrive I had let him have his first choice and we signed a lease.
I didn't see much of him. He pretty much stayed downstairs when he was home. He didn't cook (I guessed he ate at school or downtown). It was like I still had the apartment to myself. Things were working out perfect.
The few times I encountered him going or leaving he was polite. If I had to guess I would have said he was shy. Though he was in a different country and while he now lived in my house, it was a stranger's home.
Finally the Chinese student arrived. He seemed content to have the room in the front, so that worked out well. His western name was Terry (seems the Chinese government allows you to settle on a western name as a variation of your Chinese name when you go abroad to study). I think his real name, phonetically from Chinese, was Theriann.
The Chinese student was more of a presence in the apartment. He had an outgoing personality. He would always engage with me when he encountered me. He had an infectious smile. His face was a little round and it lit up when he smiled. As he found so many things funny, he was always smiling. He would joke about our other roommate, had funny stories about school, and he would tease me when given half a chance. It was hard not to like him.
Fortunately he was incredibly tidy, which was great, because the guest room is right in the middle of the apartment. If he had been messy and I had to walk by his messy room everyday it would have driven me wild.
He wasn't just tidy, he was clean. He always smelled as though he had just showered (I didn't know if he showered at morning or night, as his bathroom was well down the condo, but I would frequently pass it and he would either be in there showering or there was steam still hanging in the air suggesting he had recently taken one).
He fancied himself a bit of a chef. So he would cook his meals in the kitchen and eat in the dinning room. But he was very quiet (usually eating or sitting at the table looking at his laptop with his headphones in) so the fact he was making use of most of the condo didn't bother me.
I pretty much stayed in the back of the condo. I have a huge master bedroom with a massive TV with a PVR and all the channels I could possibly want. I was content to say in my own section.
I also don't like getting dressed if I don't have something to do. So I could just stay in my bedroom naked and watch TV on the days I didn't need to go teach (I teach at the university which is why I had decided to rent to students).
My office, which it is in the front of the apartment, is right at the front so when I wasn't hanging out in my bedroom watching TV, I would go into my office and close the door and work.
This meant going through the apartment in my bathrobe but I could usually tell when Terry was out, and Mohamed kept downstairs, so I rarely was seen. Not that the students would have been freaked out by seeing me in a bathrobe, or at least I assumed they wouldn't be. We were all men after all, even if I was three times their age, and we shared a condo so no one was expected to be formally dressed all the time.
The fact I was a professor created an instant relationship with these two. It wasn't distant. They called me by my first name. We were after all, sharing a dwelling together. But it didn't start as awkward as students are used to professors and vice-versa. So the fact we had a common interest in education and had a sense of the other we were relatively comfortable around the others from day one.
Where Mohamed kept to himself, Terry was more eager to strike up a connection. He was proud of his cooking skills and invited me to share a meal with him every Friday. Eventually I would go with him to Chinatown when he shopped that day and act as his 'sous-chef' in preparing the meal.
Slowly I learned about China in terms of cuisine. Though I think I inadvertently changed his eating habits as when he first arrived he ate mostly rice with vegetables and soon he was eating more and more protein.
Terry wasn't particularly big or small. He was about as tall as me, which made him slightly taller than Mohamed, though he was thinner than Mohamed (and definitely me).
As I noted, he had a roundish face. His features belied his young age. It is not like he had baby fat. He was thin with very small narrow build. When he first arrived he was struggling with acne I helped him find a dermatologist and soon his skin had smoothed out and was almost as flawless as the Egyptian boy's.
One day, early in the first semester, after we had been having Friday dinners today, Terry knocked on my bedroom door in the morning. I put on my bathrobe and answered it. He said he was about to do a load of laundry and did I have anything that needed washing. I thanked him and handed him my laundry basket.
He didn't seem put off that I was only in a bathrobe. He had already started to refer to my part of the condo as my 'man cave' so he probably had figured out I don't bother to get dressed on days I don't teach.
Later, when I came out, I found my clothes folded neatly on the dinning room table.
That he had found washing and folding an adult's clothes, including my underwear (I was wearing boxers mostly at this point), off-putting did not seem to be the case as the next week he again knocked on my door and asked if I had laundry to throw-in with his.
This time I made a point of going downstairs and switching the clothes from the washer to the dryer, to do my fair share. As I unloaded the washer I was struck by his underwear.
While it hadn't dawned on me to think twice about him washing my boxers (which it probably should have as when I jack off I use my underwear to clean up my cum), touching his underwear gave me pause.
First I was struck by the fact that they were all Calvin Klein. I don't know what I had expected. I guess I had thought perhaps some Chinese brand or some non-descript underwear. Aren't Chinese supposed to be communists? He clearly was into designer labels.
They were also in all different vibrant colours. They were all boxer-briefs but almost a nylon or silk fabric and so small. He was slimmer than me but these were a third of the size of my boxers. They must have conformed snuggly to his body.
When the clothes were finished drying I also emptied the dryer and folded his clothes. There was something erotic about folding this boy's underwear. They felt so warm and smooth in my hands just out of the dryer. I even rubbed a few against my cheek. They felt so smooth the soft nylon fabric.
They were small and with fitted pouches, which is where his cock and balls must nestle. I couldn't help myself, I started thinking about this boy's cock and balls and what he must look like wearing these. I folded them so they were facing up, with fitted pouch on top, so I could picture his cock snuggled in the front of this satiny material.
I made a point of leaving his clothes on the dinning room table stacked so the folded underwear was on top. Something in me wanted him to know I had touched his snug boxer briefs, even if they had been already washed at the time.
The following week I made a point of, one of the days I was showered and dressed, having been at the university teaching, of offering to let him throw his clothes in with mine as I was "going to do a load of laundry".
Fortunately Mohamed was not in the basement so once I got our dirty clothes down to the basement bathroom, with no one to see me, I pulled out his underwear and began to sniff them.
Disappointingly there was no odor. I had been struck by how clean he smelled just being near him in the kitchen or passing him in the hall. He always smelled of soap or cologne.
His underwear had no odor I could find, either in the pouch where his cock had been nestled (I assumed an uncut cock as he was Chinese) and not between the legs where most men swear.
As I loaded the washer I sniffed each of his boxer-briefs and each time I was disappointed at the lack of an odor, though I was finding having my nose where his cock had been an incredible turn-on. I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like naked.
I found myself that night going on line and looking at Asian guys naked and in underwear.
I was definitely developing a crush on this foreign student.
That Friday when we had dinner, Terry told me a story about that day at school. He had come back to his engineering lab and found his gym bag open. Someone had rifled through it.
"I thought maybe someone had just wanted to sniff my underwear," he said with a smile.
I don't know if I turned a bright red. It felt like I had. Had he known I had done that when I had done out laundry several days earlier?
I also didn't know he went to the gym. How can someone go to the gym wearing tight satiny boxer briefs like his and not sweat in them and create an odor.
"Turns out someone had robbed several of the labs," he said, snapping me out of my haze of thinking about his underwear.
The story had been innocuous enough though the reference to sniffing his underwear was unbelievably close to home. Had he guessed?
He was the one who offered for us to do laundry together. Had he been tempting me or teasing me? Had I been too obvious when I folded his clothes with his underwear on top, pouch pointed up (part of me did want him to know I had touched his underwear)? Had I spent too long loading the washing machine that he had guessed I had been downstairs smelling his underwear?
I lay awake that night wondering what this had meant, before logging onto my laptop and jacking off looking at pictures of Asian boys.
I was getting it bad for this boy.
He was charming. He was straight, though flirty. I had never gotten a glimpse of him even without a shirt on, but I felt I knew his body which I pictured to be smooth, except for straight black pubes, above a small to average uncut cock.
He no longer offered to do my laundry. In spite of my being paranoid he knew I was sniffing his underwear I found myself always offering to include his clothes with mine, when I knew Mohamed was out so no one would see me try to detect his scent as I placed his nylon shiny Calvin Kleins gently into the machine after rubbing my face in them.
If he knew I was sniffing his underwear he did nothing to help my growing obsession. His underwear continued to smell pristine, even though he had clearly worn them to school and maybe even to the gym. I had no idea if he slept in underwear, or naked or PJs. But this boy had no discernable odor and I found myself wanting to smell him.
Terry, even though he was a presence in the condo on a daily basis, and lived upstairs with me, kept all of his hygiene (showering and dressing) discretely in his bedroom with door clothes or in the washroom where I couldn't see.
I could only imagine what he looked like in those boxer-briefs or better yet naked.
In the mornings he often just wore PJ bottoms and a t-shirt, so I assumed that is how he slept. I could sort of make out his package through his PJs but couldn't discern detail. I guessed it was because the form fitted boxer-briefs, which he must have had on under his PJs, kept his cock and balls trapped together in the curved pouch. I could only discern that there was a handful of genitalia in the front of his pajamas.
When he was dressed it was always immaculately. He wore dress shirts and slacks that were pleated. So I could make out even less of his cock and balls. That didn't surprise me as given how small and form fitting his boxer-briefs were his cock and balls would be kept away from the front (even if he had something noteworthy down there though I suspect he, based on the pics of Asian boys I was now jacking off to regularly, was not overly big).
I looked forward to our dinners on Friday and increasingly he would tell me about boys at school he had become friends with who were gay. He seemed to pride himself on both recognizing gay tendencies and in attracting them. He seemed flattered (almost to the point of bragging) when a boy would hit on him at school.
I couldn't fault either his gaydar or his self-confidence as I was clearly attracted to this boy. If I wasn't three times his age (and a professor) I might have made a pass at him too.
Instead I just listened to his stories, admired his oriental beauty, pictured him in his colourful Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and hoped my lust for him wasn't too obvious or off-putting.
End of part 1