HOW TO USE YOUR QUEER COLLEGE ROOMMATE
by Anonymous
This how-to article is for straight jocks who are going to be sharing housing accommodations at a college, university, or prep school. It tells you how to select your own servant as a "roommate", get free services and products, and amuse your buds, all without giving anything in return. It is written from the queer's point of view to show how easy it is.
CHAPTER ONE : Wherein the queer student finds out the jock expects a servant, not a roommate
The door was open when Wes arrived in his prep uniform. His white oxford shirt was unbuttoned on top and his dark blue striped rep tie was loose and the knot pulled down. He walked in, barely acknowledging me as he strode past. "Hey.... Wes here" was all he said as he passed by me. He didnt seem much interested in my response. He walked straight over to the bed by the window and put his suitcase and bags full of gear at the foot of the bed, fell back on the bed, and kicked his shoes off. He propped a pillow on the headboard, leaned back with his hands behind his head and surveyed the room.
It was my first year at ______ but I had already heard about my roommate. He was a first-semester junior and BMOC. Lacrosse was the most popular sport at the school and Wes was the star of the team.
"My stuff gets hung in the closets first, then we'll see how much space is left for you" he said looking at the double closets with sliding doors. " And I got a lot of gear, Im gonna need those drawers" he said peering at the only bureau in the room. "Hey Im thirsty. I wanna coke. You thirsty?" He undid his rep tie and slid it through the collar. I said "Yeah, I could go for a coke" not cause I really wanted anything to drink , but I wanted to agree to anything the jock suggested. "Theres a soda machine down at the end of the hall," he said. "I'll unpack."
I went down the hall and had just enough in change to get two cokes from the machine. How was I ever going to room with this jock stud? I would be tenting 24 hours a day. And how could I not look when he undressed? Ill tell him the cokes are on me, I thought, hoping to get off to a good start.
When I came back Wes had his suitcase and bags open and was hanging his prep suit in the closet. He had stripped down to his boxers , socks , and unbuttoned shirt. His legs were solid muscle from years of playing sports.
I opened a coke and handed it to Wes."Put the other can over there" he said jutting his chin toward the desk by the bed he had chosen. "I might want it later on." I almost said something but I figured it was best not to point out that the second coke was supposed to be mine. Maybe he thought I had got more than two cokes from the machine. Anyway, he wasnt offering to pay for any of them.
"Not on the wood" he said in an irritated voice. "Get something out of my black bag there and put it under the can so it doesnt make a ring on the desk." He went back to hanging up his chinos and oxford shirts.
There were several sports bags, all open. As I got down to look in the black one to see what I could use for an improvised coaster I caught a musty sweaty smell. Later I found out why--its the bag Wes uses to transport his dirty jocks, briefs, tees and sweat socks from working out or after practice and games. I got close enuf to get a full whiff of the ripe sweatsocks and jockstraps. I wanted to get down real close and smell it but of course I didnt want let on I was queer so I grabbed the first thing on the top of the heap. It was a stained white handkerchief crumpled and stiff. Damn! it was a fuckin cumrag! I put it on the desk and smoothed it out as much as I could and put the coke can on it. Did he know that I had pulled his cumrag out, did he think it was on purpose, would he realize he had a fag for a roommate? But he was still busy hanging up clothes as was ignoring me.
"The stuff in the red bag goes in the drawers" said Wes pulling sweaters out of a duffle bag. He said it like a matter of fact order someone from a wealthy family (like his) used for instructions to the poolboy or the gardener. "OK" I said under the pretext of just being helpful.
Evidently Wes didnt mind asking me--telling me really--to handle his personal stuff. As I went through the red bag and put the gear in the drawers I imagined how Wes would look in each jersey , jockstrap, tee and tank top. There were lots of worn faded sweatpants and sweatshirts and I was getting hard just feeling the soft material that had been against his athletic body so many times while he was running and sweating.
"Saturday is laundry day." Wes said it not like a casual comment about when HE did the laundry but like telling hired help when to DO the laundry. He closed the empty suitcase and put it against the wall in the closet using up even more space. There wasnt much room left for my clothes.
He took out his cell phone. "Personal call" he said. It was like he didnt know or care how rude he was. It was like the dorm room was his place and I was just supposed to leave. "Uh, ok.." I said as he punched in a speed dial. He looked up at me like he didnt understand why I was still there. He jerked his thumb toward the open door. As I closed the door behind me I heard him say "Hey Chris... whats the plans for Friday?"
I didnt know where to go really, I figured the call would be short and he would let me know when he was finished so I just hung out in the hall. Other guys were moving in and gave quizzical looks wondering what I was doing just standing in front of a closed door.
After about 5 minutes the door opened. Wes said "Hey" and motioned with his head for me to get inside. His tone of voice and curt gesture were the kind of commands he was used to giving. I was sure he had forgotten my name if he ever bothered to listen to it in the first place. He had been keeping me waiting while he changed into jeans and sneakers, no socks. He wasnt wearing a shirt either and I felt my dick swelling as I looked at his full chest, strong arms and hard belly. His bare torso made a V shape down to his slim waist. I tried to take it all in , nipples, treasure trail, navel right above the waist of the levis, sturdy neck , Wes was like the esence of Man like those statues in ancient greece come to life. He reminded me of this one statue in the book from last semester, a perfect face and body of an athlete about 19 like Wes, every muscle defined as he prepares to throw the discus. I got so fuckin hard when I looked at that picture and now here he was in the flesh.
"Sit down" he said pointing to the bed he had assigned me.
Wes sat beside me and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body , the bare skin of his chest glowed. I glanced down and noticed how his thighs filled out the levis. His expression was a bit serious and I wondered why he was actually going to talk to me and what about. "Im here on a sports scholarship," he began as if he had prepared a short speech and was trying hard to remember it. "See its a good thing for the university if I play cause Im their MVP and if I dont play they dont win the championship." He said this not with any particular pride but just as if it were a fact that everybody knew but that he had to patiently explain. "So its good for the university" he repeated, summing up and emphasizing the importance of school spirit in this whole thing.
Wes leaned back a little and cupped his balls. I looked out of the corner of my eye. His hand was definitely around his balls. Just seeing a straight jock do that makes me want to get on my knees. "I hear you are real good at classes, get straight A's" , he asked. I said yeah, suspecting what Wes seemed to be suggesting in a crude manner. "I never been real academic" he continued, "Im into sports, not reading books and writing papers and shit. But I have to maintain a C average to play for the university."
"Maybe I can help" I said trying my best to sound casual as I looked at Wes's hand on the bulge in the smooth faded jeans. "For the good of the school," I added. "Yeah, yeah!" said Wes as if this idea had never occurred to him. "You know , for the school. I gotta be here to win the championship. So I will give you assignments and you write papers and shit. Good, then its all settled." He took his hand away from his crotch. Meeting ended. What was I was getting out of this deal? Simple, I wanted this straight jock to be my roomate so I could admire his body and fantasize about sucking his cock.
CHAPTER TWO, in which the jock lays down some rules for the queer
Wes easily accomplished what he wanted to get from me. Somehow I had just jumped into an arrangement where I was to do this guy's classwork and for nothing more than the privilege of sitting beside him for a few seconds while he was shirtless with his hand on his crotch.
This much I knew, for a dumb jock Wes had figured out from the first time he saw me that I was queer and wanted to get in his jock. He must have got scoped by so many fags he could read a queer like a,,,,, well, I was going to say like a book, but Wes couldnt finish a paragraph in Sport Illustrated before his mind began to wander back to fucking pussy. Looking back, I realized that he had planned things, letting me see him walk around in his boxers, getting me to find his cumrag and put his sports gear away, sitting beside me on the bed. Maybe he wasnt so dumb when it came to using queers.
Having abruptly sealed the deal on his terms, he pulled on a tee shirt and left without another word. I started putting my stuff away. It was obvious that Wes was so used to getting his way that he didnt bother asking me to do anything but just assumed I would do what he wanted and what he said.
There wasnt much space left in the closet and I had to jampack most of my clothes onto one pole. I say MOST because the space left was no way enough for everything. But Wes had every drawer in the bureau stuffed with his gear. I piled some more clothes from a carry bag into what was left in the suitcase, making the suitcase so full it was hard to close. I put it under the bed that Wes had decreed was mine. I figured I would have to store half my clothes this way.
Then there were Wes's shoes. Two pairs of black leather dress shoes, the kind that he wore on dates and when he visited his family and had to wear a suit. Five pairs of sneaks, from brand new to funky, not including the Keds he had on when he left. And boots that he wore for the country and tramping around in muddy parks and pickup football roughhousing sessions with his jock buds. I only had two pairs of sneaks, and it looked like I would have to keep them under my bed beside the suitcase.
I looked over at the desk that Wes had claimed, much larger and more comfortable than the one he had decided was mine. I wanted to touch his cumrag again and smell his cock and balls on the dirty sportsgear in the black bag but I didnt know if he was out for a long time or coming back in a minute. Even though the door was locked we each had a key of course and I couldnt risk him barging in while my face was buried in his dirty jockstraps.
He had also made me so hot and turned on that I wanted to get off fantasizing about blowing him. I couldnt get his muscular body and handsome features out of my mind. Instead I started to make out my class schedule and prepare for the courses I was taking. I wanted to do a good job my first semester. After about an hour I started to nod off so I stripped to my briefs and took a nap.
"HEY" . At first I thought I was dreaming but then a switch flipped and the lights in the room came on as I opened my eyes. Wes was standing inside the door by the light switch. I thought maybe he had decided my name was "Hey" but it was more like I didnt have a name as far as he was concerned ,,, which was not at all.
He closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk, not caring about rudely waking me. "You let my fuckin coke get warm" he said holding up the can. "Sorry" I mumbled automatically, still half asleep, as though it was my duty to keep it cold after I bought it for myself and he took it for himself.
"You got to get a few things straight," he began, holding the can up like a sports trophy he had just won. "First of all keep your goddamn pants on when Im around." I quickly sat up and found my jeans on the floor. "Second of all" he continued while I hastily pulled my jeans over my hardon, "keep my drinks in the fridge in the kitchen." I had no idea where that was. "And third of all show respect to an upperclassman, freshman."
"I didnt mean to be disrespectful, I was just...." Wes interrupted me. "I said SHOW respect . Theres a difference. Not putting my drinks in the fridge is just disrespectful, thats not allowed. But freshmen are allowed to show respect to me in certain ways." He rolled the can across the floor in my direction. "Kitchen is down the hall." He started to undress.
As I searched for the kitchen--Wes hadnt bothered to tell me which direction it was--I wondered what he meant by allowing freshman to show respect "in certain ways." He meant something more than writing his papers or following his orders--by now I had learned that that stuff was just expected. Showing respect, that was evidently something more. That whole idea gets a queer excited.
After a few wrong turns I found the small kitchen that was used by everyone on the floor, and put the coke in the fridge. When I got back Wes was in bed, his clothes in a heap where he had taken them off. "Lights out " he ordered. "And dont forget " he said turning over in bed, "Saturday is laundry day so pick up my clothes." There wasnt any doubt any longer-- I would be doing Wes's laundry every week.
I flipped off the lights, leaving the room in semi-darkness, and picked up his jeans, still warm from his body. His tee shirt was slightly damp under the arms and there was a wet spot in the middle of the chest. There werent any shorts. He either didnt wear any, or he kept them on when he got into bed. I moved as quietly as I could, smelling the scent of Wes's sweat as I stuffed his jeans and tee in my own empty clothes bag. That would have to do as a laundry bag.
I glanced over at Wes. He was under the sheets, his back to me and motionless. He might not be asleep yet. But I had to risk it. His Keds were still on the floor and I remembered that he went out without any socks on. I knelt beside the sneaks. They had seen a lot of wear. The white had become grayish and there were scuff marks around the edges. I put my hand under the sole of one and picked it up. The canvas had softened and molded to the shape of Wes's foot. The laces were frayed on the ends. I brought it up to my face and sniffed in the smell that old sneakers have, musty and ripe. I put my nose in the sneak and stayed there smelling Wes's sweaty feet smell, my hand on the bottom of the shoe that touched the ground where Wes walked. My hardon pressed against the shorts and jeans that Wes told me I was to wear. I was leaking pre.
I was so startled by the rustling sheets that I nearly dropped the sneaker. I quickly looked over at Wes. He was still motionless with his back to me. He started to snore softly. I carefully lined up the Keds next to his desk. Then I saw the cumrag still lying there. Impulsively I took it and snuck to bed. I got under the sheets as quietly as I could. If Wes was awake before me I couldnt get out of bed in shorts only. That would be disrespect to an upperclassman. So I had to keep my jeans on. That way a jock doesnt ever have to see the queer get hard for him.
I pulled my jeans and briefs over my hips and started to jack off slowly so I didnt make any noise. Wes was still snoring softly. Now I could get a good smell of Wes's cumrag. I pressed the crumpled handkerchief up against my face and breathed in the smell from the dried cumstains. I was so hot from smelling a jock that it only took a few seconds for me to cum. I spurted a big load into the cumrag and held it back up to my face. My fresh wet cum soaked into the stiff cum that Wes had shot days before. I stuffed the handkerchief in the pouch of my briefs and pulled them up. The wet sticky rag clung to my balls but I could still feel the drier areas from Wes's cumstains against my softening dick. Then I pulled up my jeans and zipped up pressing my cock and balls up against the cumrag lay back feeling the jockboys semen stains against my skin like he had just jacked off in my pants.
To be continued in CHAPTER THREE, methods for keeping the queer under your thumb
CHAPTER THREE, in which the jock teaches new lessons in respect and obedience to the queer