My Unexpected Valentine’s Bedmate: A Random, Hung Freshman Jock (Patreon)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

It's been a crazy weekend. There was an insane flood in my dorms Friday night, pipes bursting on three floors at once, water coming through the ceiling tiles like the building was on its period. My own dorm room had an inch of water in it by the time the alarms went off at three in the morning.

I bolted upright in my bed as my roommate was shouting my name. RAs were banging on doors, all the freshmen, including myself, stumbled into the hallway in shorts and flip flops as water flooded our feet and sprayed from various corners. We gathered in the quad on the grass, freezing our asses off, and by sunrise, half the building was unlivable. Housing sent out an email that basically said, "Good luck, you’re all being reassigned for the rest of the semester."

I got split up from my roommate, who was cool as fuck, basically my best friend at this point. We had the same class schedule, the same taste in girls, and even the same terrible sleep habits, along with a shared stash of frozen burritos. Instead, I ended up across the quad with this athlete jock dude I’d never met before named Alex.

He had a double room all to himself, since athletes got special treatment, but I guess the plumbing emergency made his extra space mine now. When I showed up with my duffel bag and a box of textbooks, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling his phone, looking like he’d just come back from practice. Big shoulders, thick thighs, a relaxed confident indifference that athletes tend to have at our school.

"Hey. I’m Alex. Happy Valentine's," he said nonchalantly without looking up, "Guess you've probably had better ones."

But I was about to learn how fun my new roommate would become.

I forced a light chuckle through my nose, ready to put an end to a bad, exhausting day, but when I looked around, I noticed that there wasn't a second bed. His was the only one in there, pressed up against the wall in the corner.

“Fuck,” I exhaled. “They never brought a bed in here for me?”

He glanced up, barely moving his head. “Oh, yeah, no, I guess not. Sucks, bro.”

That was it. No sympathy, no panic, just a calm shrug since it wasn’t his problem. I stood there for a second, feeling stupid with my bags at my feet.

I turned my head toward him as he went back to playing on his phone. His big, muscular legs stretched out the gym shorts he was wearing. The fabric clung to his thighs when he shifted, and his bulky upper body was obvious even through the school hoodie he had on. I caught myself staring for a second longer than necessary, then looked away, pretending to check my messages.

“What sport?” I asked, mostly just to say something.

“Baseball,” he said. “Pitcher.”

“Nice.”

He nodded once, still not really looking at me. “You?”

“Business,” I said. “So, you know. Spreadsheet athlete.”

That actually got a small laugh out of him. It was quick and low, but genuine enough to establish the slightest rapport. His shoulders bounced once, and for a second he seemed less intimidating.

After a series of phone calls to administrators that were overwhelmed and didn't want to be working on the weekend, let alone Valentine's Day, I finally got someone to say they were delivering a bed to my new room.

But when it finally came, it had no mattress. It was just a metal frame and a sad wooden board on top of it. The delivery guy was a maintenance worker, and it wasn’t his job to fix my problem.

“Sorry, kid. I’ll let ’em know.”

He rolled the empty frame into the room and left like he was dropping off a package.

Around 9pm I gave up and tried to find somewhere else to stay. I texted everyone I knew. No answers. People already had couch surfers or were out of town for the weekend. I even knocked on a couple doors in my old building, but most of the rooms were taped off or empty.

“A fucking twenty BILLION dollar endowment and I’m basically homeless. This is so fucked,” I muttered as I came back into the room. It was late, the quad quiet except for a couple smokers near the benches. My roommate was lying on his bed, one arm over his eyes, like he was trying to fall asleep.

By 2am, I was sitting at the desk, typing away on my computer, trying to look productive so I wouldn’t feel like a homeless guy in my own room.

Alex shifted, the bed creaking under his weight. “You’re still up?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just emailing housing again. Maybe if I annoy them enough they’ll bring me a mattress.”

He let out a slow breath. “You can just crash in my bed, dude.”

I turned in the chair. “What?”

He lifted his arm off his eyes and looked at me for the first time since I’d come back. His eyes were heavy, sleepy, but there was nothing weird or awkward in them.

“It’s a double,” he said. “Technically… I just pushed it to the wall. There’s room.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know, man. That’s kind of…”

“Kind of what?” he asked.

He smirked a little. “Yeah, and you seem harmless. Plus, I’m too tired to care. Cuddle bros. You've never shared a bed before?”

I shrugged. “We just met.”

He exhaled, like he was tired of the conversation.

I laughed quietly. “Good to know I give off harmless vibes.”

“Trust me,” he said, already rolling onto his side, “if you weren't cool, I would’ve noticed by now.”

I felt myself turning a little red inside. It was nice that he thought I was cool, whatever he meant by that.

I stared at the empty bed frame across the room. The wooden board looked like it would destroy my back in minutes.

“Aight cool," I said, making a decision, "I'll hop in."

“Just don’t hog the blankets.”

"Yeah, right. I feel like I'd just disappear under your massive muscles, bro," I replied.

I changed in the bathroom, pulling on a pair of gym shorts and a loose T shirt. When I came back, he had already scooted closer to the wall, leaving a clear space on the outer edge.

The bed dipped slightly as I climbed in. It was warm from his body heat, the sheets smelling faintly like laundry detergent, recently washed, and also a bit of his masculine aroma. Not bad, just… him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He reached over me, his shirtless chest pressing down on me by accident as he clicked the lamp off. It wasn’t like I had never had proximity to male friends before, but for whatever reason, I felt a rush of shyness being that close to him, awareness of our size difference, even though we’re roughly the same age, both freshmen. But a moment later he was off me again, facing away. The room went dark except for the thin strip of light coming from under the door, and the quad lights from outside, providing a small amount of illumination.

We both lay there at first, a good few inches between us. I could hear his breathing, slow and steady. Every time he shifted, the mattress moved with him, and I felt it through my own body.

It was weird. Not bad, just different. I’d shared beds with friends before on trips or after parties, but this felt more intense somehow. Maybe because I didn’t really know him yet. Maybe because he was huge, and I was suddenly very aware of it in the dark.

I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. The pillow smelled like his shampoo. Clean, slightly sweet.

“Night,” he mumbled.

“Night.”

But suddenly, once I got ready to actually sleep, I was anything but tired.

Apparently, neither was he, because after a few quiet minutes he spoke again.

“You still awake?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… weird day.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Tell me about it. Valentine’s Day and I end up sharing a bed with a random dude.”

“Hey, I’m a great Valentine,” I said. “Low maintenance.”

He laughed again, a little louder this time. The mattress shifted as he rolled onto his back.

Due to the chaos of the day, we had barely stopped to actually just talk to each other, but it felt weirdly natural once we started. We drifted into the usual stuff, classes, hometowns, which bars were worth it and which were full of dorks. Eventually the conversation turned to girls, like it always did with other guys who didn’t know what else to talk about.

He told me about a girl from back home, someone he used to hook up with over the summer. I admitted I had barely had sex a couple times since coming to college, trying to sound casual about it even though my face felt warm against the pillow.

“Seriously?” he said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just… I don’t know. You’re confident. Thought you’d like to party.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, staring at the wall, “I lied. I haven’t even had sex. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

He was quiet for a second, then said, “It’s not a big deal. The first time is overrated anyway.”

“What was yours like?” I asked.

The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice sounded normal, but my chest felt tight, like I was asking something more personal than I should.

He shifted again, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. “Honestly? Messy. I was nervous as hell. She had to tell me what to do.”

He started describing it, in enough detail that I could picture it exactly. The way she pulled him closer, the way he said his hands were shaking, how everything got faster and hotter once it started.

I swallowed, suddenly very aware of the warmth under the blanket. My body reacted before my brain had time to comment on it. I was hard as a rock in seconds, and I adjusted slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“You ever get close?” he asked.

“With a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“A few times,” I said. “Just never all the way.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about that. “It’ll happen. You’ve got time.”

I let out a quiet breath. “Easy for you to say.”

He kept talking about the girl, about how she’d grabbed his shoulders, how he’d barely lasted. His voice was low and relaxed, but I could tell he was amped up as he talked, and the details were enough to keep my brain running in circles. I pictured his big, muscular form taking a girl and rocking her world.

I grabbed my hard dick as he kept talking. 

“Then she told me to do her from behind. Apparently she had fucked a ton of guys already and knew how she wanted it, and I was just along for the ride.”

“Fuck yeah,” I said, rubbing myself under his blanket, looking slightly away from him as he went on.

It felt like I was committing some sort of mortal sin. I was almost ashamed, even though it was just something guys do sometimes. I had been going to sleepovers my whole life, so jerking off with someone else in the room wasn’t new at all, but something about the proximity, his massive body. It all gave me some sort of rush I didn’t expect. I tried to shrug it off as I continued spanking myself openly to his story.

“I turned her around and hit it from the back. I was like, ‘You like that baby?’ and she was like, ‘Oh yeah baby gimme that dick’ and it was so hot.”

I could see his hand was moving under his covers as well. 

He kept talking, and I found myself staring at his hand moving instead of avoiding looking at it.

“Are you close?” he suddenly whispered like it was a secret.

“Yeah,” I said in a breathless voice. “But I won’t mess up your blanket dude.”

“It’s all good,” he said, suddenly reaching down to his feet. “You can use a sock.”

He couldn’t get a good grip, so he leaned down, pulling the blanket with him, exposing our dicks.

I glanced over at his obscene member, and my eyes went wide when I saw that it matched the rest of him. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light at this point, and I could clearly see that it was as thick as a monster can and basically as long. A leaky, shining puddle of pre-cum was bubbling up on the bright red head as it fell to the side, pointing directly at me.

The smell hit me, the aroma of male dick. It was familiar, but different enough to know I was within striking distance of another dude’s hot, ripe package.

“Damn, you’re huge,” I said, holding myself at the base, on the verge of cumming but waiting for the sock. 

He tossed it to me a second later, and I rolled away from him, throwing his warm, weirdly moist sock over my dick and stroking myself. My bare backside was facing him, and I didn’t even think about it until I suddenly felt a hot wetness on my ass. 

I turned my head and looked, in denial about what I had felt. But alas, it was a rope of white cum streaked across my ass. He was finishing his ejaculation into his sock, but apparently hadn’t gotten it onto himself in time. I watched for a moment as his huge rod pulsed, soaking through the sock. His girth didn’t even fit in his hand. It was like he was rubbing out one of the broken water mains that was sticking out of the walls the night before, and releasing just as much fluid.

I immediately started squirting into the sock on my own dick, groaning involuntarily like I was in pain. I was stunned at how good it felt, like a surprising shock to my system, as I milked out a heavy load and had one of the best and strangest orgasms of my life, while feeling another dude’s cum drip down my ass.

As I came to, I was painfully aware of the wet spot that he had delivered onto me by mistake, but he barely acknowledged it.

“Sorry, bro,” he said as he reached over, wiping his mistake off my butt, “Guess I didn’t beat the buzzer on that one.”

Wow, I thought to myself, a sports reference while he touches my ass. It really was a fitting end to this experience. 

He turned away from me toward the wall, his bulky butt still hanging halfway out of his underwear, the big, round globes waving goodnight to me as he settled into place.

His body was slowly rising and falling with his sleep breathing in less than a minute. I tossed my cum sock to the other side of the room, symbolically ridding myself of the shame of the evening, and fell asleep with him behind me, butt to butt.