My New Roommate
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About six months after my divorce, I decided to accept the company’s long-standing offer and transfer to New York. Being a small-town guy from the Midwest, I was a little intimidated about moving to such a big city, but I felt like the change would do me good. Most of my friends had been my ex-wife’s friends first, so I was beginning to feel isolated. If some woman had come along in those six months to pique my interest, I might have stayed longer to see if the relationship might go somewhere, but no such luck.
I was familiar enough with New York to know that the hardest part of the move would be finding an affordable place to live. I moved into corporate housing, thinking I might have to stay for several weeks, but I lucked out when one of my co-workers put me onto a friend of hers with a great apartment in Brooklyn who was looking for a roommate. She said he was a great guy about my age, 36, a hard-working professional but a lot of fun to be around.
“He’s gay, in case you have a problem with that,” she said.
“Just because I’m from small town doesn’t mean I’m narrow-minded,” I said. “As long as he’s a good roommate, I don’t really care what he does in his private life.”
“Great,” she said, and gave me his email, promising to let him know of my interest.
That afternoon I sent him a note.
“Hi, Rob. I got your email from my co-worker, Rachel, who said you are looking for a roommate. I’d be interested, if you’re willing to live with a small-town guy who is something of a neatnik and spends too much time watching old movies.”
Fifteen minutes later I got his answer.
“Hi, Dave. I’m not much for old movies but I am a bit of a slob, so it’d be great to have someone pick up after me. Why don’t we get together for coffee and talk?”
He’s got a sense of humor, I thought, so that’s promising.
It turned out that we worked within eight blocks of each other in Manhattan, so we agreed to meet after work that day for coffee. When it came time to describe what we were wearing so we’d recognize each other, it turned out we were wearing the same work uniform: khakis, blue dress shirt, no tie.
“Well, great, my potential roommate is my twin,” he wrote. “At least tell me you’re wearing colorful socks.”
“Bright red,” i replied. “My one fashion indulgence is bright socks.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to spot,” he said. “See you at six.”
I left the office a little before 6 and started walking. It was a beautiful evening, and I dreaded going back later to my corporate place, which was nicely furnished but a little sterile for my taste. But with few friends so far in New York, I didn’t have a lot of options.
When I got to the coffee shop a guy I thought might be Rob was just going in. He stopped and glanced at me questioningly, so I put my hands in my pockets and pulled up my pant legs so the red socks would show.
“I’d know you anywhere,” he said, and walked over to shake hands.
My first thought was what a good-looking guy he was. Sandy blond hair, fashionably mussed, green eyes, regular features, slim build, athletic-looking, maybe a swimmer. But his best feature was a killer smile, which he flashed while looking at you in a sidelong way, like he was sizing you up.
I guess I passed the first test, because he looked around and said, “It’s too nice to sit inside. How about getting a drink over there?”
He pointed to a casual-looking place across the street with a few tables out front.
“Sure,” I said.
We crossed over and sat down.
“What’ll you have?” he asked.
“Beer,” I said. “Whatever’s on tap.”
When the waitress came he ordered two IPAs and turned to look at me.
“So,” he said. “Rachel said you’re looking for a place you can afford. That puts you in a group of, say, four million people.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of intimidated, to tell you the truth. I’ve been to New York many times but only to Manhattan, and everything I’ve looked at here is at the high end of my price range or out of it altogether. I don’t know the other boroughs at all.”
“Rents are ridiculous everywhere,” Rob said. “Most people I know have to double up to afford a decent place.”
He went on to describe the apartment and the neighborhood, and I asked questions about the proximity to the train and what the neighbors and landlord were like and so on. We finished the beers and ordered two more, and the talk flowed pretty easily.
“Now for the big issue,” he said, getting serious. “Rachel told you I’m gay, right?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yep? Nope? You really are a midwesterner.”
“Yeah, can’t help that,” I said. “But I don’t have a problem living with a gay guy if you don’t have a problem living with a straight one.”
“My last roommate was a straight guy who said the same thing,” Rob said. “But as it turned out, he did have a problem.”
“Oh?” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “For awhile I had a friend – not exactly a boyfriend, more like a friend with benefits – who stayed over from time to time. karabağlar escort bayan I guess we were pretty loud in bed because the next morning the guy would be real quiet, almost like he was pouting.”
“Shocked at what he was hearing?” I asked.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Rob said. “More like he was jealous.”
“You really think so?”
“I had the feeling sometimes he had a thing for me he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge,” he said. “But he never made a move and I sure as hell wasn’t going to. Irony is that after he moved out my FWB got into a more serious relationship with someone else, and I have hardly seen him since.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Couple of months.”
“And you’ve been paying the rent yourself?”
“Yes,” Rob said, “and I’m pretty much tapped out.”
There was a pause while I thought.
“I”m starving,” I said. “Should we order some food?”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, flashing that killer smile. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”
We ordered burgers and fries and another couple of beers and had a long talk. I found myself liking him – not in a romantic way, of course, but Rachel was right, he was fun to be around. He had a sly wit and turned out to be really up on the news, as I try to be, so we talked about a lot of things before dinner was done.
“I’ve really enjoyed this,” he said. “Why don’t you come by Saturday and look at the apartment, and if you like it you can move in whenever.”
“Great,” I said.
When the bill came I insisted on paying, overriding his objection by reminding him he was paying full rent.
“Okay,” he said, “but I’ll pay you back my making lunch when you come over.”
“Deal,” I said, and we shook hands.
Before splitting up to go our own ways we shook hands once more and again he flashed that killer smile.
“See you Saturday,” he said. “I’ll email you directions for the train.”
That was a Thursday night. A day and a half later I took the subway to Brooklyn and walked the five or six blocks to Rob’s apartment. On the way I stopped at a liquor store to buy a six-pack.
When I got to the building he was standing out front.
“Wanted to make sure you found it OK,” he said as we shook hands.
I looked above the door.
“Dude, the numbers on the building are almost a foot high,” I said.
He looked up.
“So they are,” he said. “I never noticed.”
We laughed, and he flashed the smile again, but I got the feeling he had been really eager to see me.
We went inside. The apartment was on the second floor in the back, with big windows and wooden floors that had been redone not too long ago. The kitchen appliances were old, except for a new gas stove, and the single bathroom needed updating, but everything was clean and appeared to be in good working order. The vacant room wasn’t large but it had built-in bookshelves on the inside wall and one window overlooking a tiny back yard. The old tenant had left a large mirror, a desk and a chest of drawers, all in good condition.
“It’s great,” I said.
“Yours if you want it,” Rob said.
We went through the numbers one more time – rent, cable, internet and so on – settled everything. Then we shook on it. I was pleased, and Rob clearly was, too.
“Let’s have lunch,” he said.
“Beer first,” I said.
Over lunch we talked, a lot. Rob asked all kinds of questions about my home town, and I asked about his (he was from Vermont). He didn’t exactly ask questions about my failed marriage, but he somehow let me know he’d listen if I wanted to talk about it. So I told him about my ex-wife, that we’d met in college, got married too young, tried to have a family but stopped after two miscarriages, and how we drifted apart to the point where neither of us had much to say to each other.
Rob in turn told me about his first boyfriend, who had treated him badly, and his second, who he had really loved but have moved across country to take a job offer he couldn’t refuse. That was six months ago, he said, and since then he’d had a few dates and the one FWB, but nothing serious.
Before I knew it it we had gone through the six-pack. I would have liked to hang out more, I told Rob, but I had arranged to meet some co-workers for dinner that night and I needed to do a couple things beforehand.
“I need to get a bed, too,” I said.
“There’s a couple of mattress stores on the next block,” he said. “And until you get something I can set you up with a blow-up bed.”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Do you need help moving?”
“All I’ve got with me is two big suitcases and a few boxes of books. I can probably get it over here in a taxi if it’s one of those minivan types. All the rest of my stuff is in storage back home.”
“How soon do you want to move in?”
“Yep,” he said.
“You have anything planned in the afternoon?”
“Nope,” he said.
He flashed that smile again.
“Yep. escort karabağlar Nope. You making fun of me?”
“Well, OK, then,” I said.
He smiled again. When I stuck out my hand to shake he pulled me in for a hug. I realized only afterward that I’d spent most of the day with the guy and never thought once about his being gay. Meaning that he wasn’t my gay friend; he was just my friend.
The next couple of weeks were busy ones. After moving my stuff in I spent several nights shopping for a bed and getting my room in order. I put up some window shades and got the landlord to repair the broken sash on the back window overlooking the yard, so I could open in it nice weather. I spent weekends walking around the neighborhood to get my bearings, including finding a good coffee shop, and Rob took me to a couple of his favorite restaurants. I joined the Y a few blocks away so I could resume the swimming routine I’d been in back home. In no time at all I felt at home.
After three weeks or so I realized that I hadn’t seen Rob with another guy. I wasn’t around all the time of course, but so far as I knew he hadn’t brought anyone home, and he didn’t go out much himself.
One night I asked him about it.
“I know it’s really none of my business, but you haven’t brought anyone back here.”
“No,” he said, reddening slightly.
“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he said.
“Dude, it’s YOUR apartment,” I said. “You can do whatever you like.”
“It’s yours, too, now, though. And I noticed you haven’t brought anyone home yourself.”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” I said.
“Neither am I.”
“No …well… casual sex?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
He had me there.
“It’s just that…well, I thought…”
“That gay guys have all sorts of one-off sex?”
“Some do,” he said. “Not me. Not most of the time, anyway.”
“Well, I’m sorry for making assumptions,” I said. “But the point is, don’t NOT do something on my account.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. Again the smile.
The following Saturday I went to a concert with Rachel and some other co-workers, including a drop-dead gorgeous woman I had met a week or two earlier, Caitlin. She and I had been flirting off and on at work and more overtly during the show, and when I worked up the nerve after several post-concert drinks to ask her back to my place she said sure, like she was hoping I’d ask.
We ended up having quite an enjoyable fuck, and another one after that, and when she asked if she could just sleep over rather than do the Walk of Shame back to Queens I said I’d love for her to stay.
She put on an old T-shirt of mine, got back under the covers and gave me one last kiss. Then she rolled over, and in minutes she was fast asleep. I lay there looking at the ceiling, thinking things over. I liked Caitlin and certainly enjoyed having sex with her, but I wasn’t sure how far I wanted this to go.
I was just about to fall asleep myself when I heard noises in the apartment. Apparently Rob had brought someone home, too. I heard them whispering and giggling in the hall, and after a couple of flushes of the toilet I heard the sound of Rob’s bedroom door closing.
Within seconds I heard other sounds through the wall, muffled but unmistakable: a long sigh, some moaning, and then a loud gasp.
Whoever it was sure came in a hurry, I thought.
Then I heard some commotion – they were switching places in bed – then more moaning and another gasp, not so loud as the first but more drawn out, ecstatic even.
They must have traded blow jobs, I thought. And as soon as the thought took shape I realized my cock was getting stiff. I slid my hand under the covers and put my hand on it, and it felt so good having it in my hand I had to stifle a gasp of my own. It was all I could do not to start stroking then and there.
After a few moments of quiet, with my hand still on my steel-hard dick, I heard other sounds coming from Rob’s room. A bed creaking, rhythmically. Somebody was getting fucked.
It was with some surprise that I realized how turned on I was. Like most guys I have wondered now and then to what it might be like to suck a cock, but I had never thought about two guys fucking, certainly not if I was one of them. But I couldn’t help trying to picture in my mind what was going on next door – was Rob on top doing the fucking, or was some guy’s dick in his ass? – and my imagination only fueled my horniness. I pictured Rob fucking some guy from behind, and felt myself getting still harder.
Jesus God, I thought. If I don’t jack off I’ll explode.
I moved the covers aside and began stroking myself slowly, listening carefully to Caitlin’s breathing. She seemed to be sound asleep, and she didn’t seem at all disturbed by the slight movements I was making, so I stroked more vigorously. In less than a minute, with the moaning sounds still coming from next door, I felt myself karabağlar escort on the verge of coming. Stuffing the edge of the blanket in my mouth, I made one last stroke and shot a stream of cum shot onto my stomach and chest.
I froze, all but praying that Caitlin had not awakened. But she hadn’t moved, and her breathing was still regular, so I decided she had slept through the whole thing.
I reached under the bed and grabbed one of the socks I’d pulled off when I undressed. I wiped the cum off myself and tossed the sock back under the bed.
I lay there for several minutes willing my heartbeat to slow down and my breathing to return to normal. It wasn’t easy. But finally I was calm again, and I noticed there was no sound from next door.
After a few minutes I realized I badly needed to pee. Slipping out of bed, I padded over to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. The apartment was dark, so I slipped into the hallway and tiptoed into the bathroom. I lifted the toilet seat and was just starting to pee when I heard a door open. I was reaching over to shut the bathroom door when someone stepped in and snapped on the light. Instinctively I covered my eyes with my free hand.
“Jesus, I’m sorry,” I heard Rob say.
Opening one eye a crack I saw him standing halfway in the doorway, naked. His hair was mussed and he looked a little drunk. Although my eyes were still adjusting to the light, I couldn’t help but notice his body.
Two things stood out; he was very fit, and his dick was semi-hard and glistened a little, as if it were wet.
I tore my eyes away and looked down at the stream of piss flowing into the toilet.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly. “I didn’t realize you were home already.”
“No, we got here an hour or so ago,” I said.
“We? You got a girl in there?” he asked, indicating my room with a tilt of the head..
“Anyone I know?”
“I don’t think so. Woman I work with, Caitlin.”
“You have a friend here, too,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Oh, did you hear us?”
“I did,” I said, shaking out the last drop. “Caitlin was asleep.”
“Oh,” he said again. I think he turned a little red.
I shook out the last few drops, flushed the toilet and stepped to the sink to wash my hands. When I glanced into the mirror I could see him, still standing in the doorway. He was looking at my backside.
Perhaps I should stop here to tell you what kind of shape I’m in: better than average, I think – not muscular-looking, but toned from regular swimming. It’s hard to say why I thought so, but I think Rob approved of what he was seeing. I wondered if he had looked at my dick while I was peeing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him looking me over.
When I turned to dry my hands on the towel, which hung from a rack next to the door, we were almost face to face. He glanced down at my chest and a surprised look came over his face.
“Dude, is that cum?”
I looked down. There was a dollop of cum just below my pec on the left side.
Before I could react he took the towel out of my hands and wiped it off. I felt my face getting hot. He flashed me the smile and handed me the towel.
“You gotta wash that,” he said, and I managed a laugh that I hoped sound nonchalant.
We stood there for a beat or two.
“So could I pee now?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” I said, and started to move toward the doorway.
He backed into the hallway to give me room.
“Night,” I said and stepped toward my room. As I opened the door I looked back and saw his reflection in the mirror. Although there wasn’t much light streaming into the hallway from the bathroom, he seemed to be looking at me. I was suddenly conscious again of our nakedness.
“Night,” he said, and the bathroom door closed.
I got back in bed. Caitlin still seemed heavily asleep. I lay there for some time, thinking over what had just happened.
I couldn’t get the image of Rob’s body out of my mind, and especially of his dick. I felt my own dick stir again, and instinctively grasped it with one hand. Why was I having these thoughts? I told myself I’m not gay, but the more I tried to drive his image out of my mind, the more it seemed to sharpen before my eyes.
I finally fell into a troubled sleep. I dreamed at one point that I was fucking Caitlin again, and then her face changed and it was my ex-wife, and then the face blurred and I couldn’t tell who it was, and when I looked down I seemed to be fucking someone with big tits but also a cock and balls.
I awoke with a start and looked around. The room was flooded with light. Caitlin was lying on her side looking at me, a big smile on her face. She had pulled back the sheet, uncovering my massive hardon.
“That’s some nice morning wood,” she said, wrapping one hand around it. “I hate to waste it, but I gotta go.”
She moved down and gave it a quick kiss, then got up and started getting dressed.
I got up, pulled on some shorts and followed her out the door, forgetting that my morning wood hadn’t gone down yet and I was tenting my shorts.
Rob, coming out of the bathroom, glanced down and said, “Whoa!”
“Nice, huh?” Caitlin said, smiling slily at Rob. “I’d love to help him with it but I gotta run. Maybe you can do it.”
I gave a snort, but Rob blushed hard.
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