My Friend and I Learned On Each Other (Patreon)

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Chapter 1: Gooner Boys

By the end of the first day of freshman year, my roommate Brayden and I had established that we were both desperate virgins. While we were getting ready for bed on the first night, I was just dropping my pants when he asked, "What are we gonna do when one of us wants to come home with a girl?"

"I gotchyu man," I said, "I would clear out as long as needed."

"Me too," he replied.

I nodded and slid under my blankets, leaning on an elbow to look at him as we kept talking.

"I'm a virgin, by the way," I said.

"Me too."

I smiled. He kept looking at his phone.

To be honest, I was disappointed. Part of me had been hoping to get paired with a guy who had actual experience, somebody who had done stuff and could talk me through it, maybe help me get into the scene. But if I was being real with myself, experience was not what I needed. What I needed was a gooner bro. Someone who was fine with open masturbation, because that was what I had gotten used to back home. My bedroom back home had been a teenage den of sin. My friends and I beat it in there constantly, side by side in chairs, or on my bed, or even on the floor on the carpet with our phones out, and that combination, porn and my buddies in the same room, was probably my favorite hobby in the world.

I watched him scroll for a second and figured there was only one way to find out which kind of roommate I got.

"What have you done with a girl?" I said, my hand subconsciously crossing my body down to my crotch under the blanket, the beginning of an instinctive erection beginning on its own, just from being in bed. 

"Nothing," he said, and I felt my boner literally deflate. 

"Me neither," I said. "I was hoping you would have some stories to talk about."

"Why?" he said, furrowing his brow, his eyes still on his phone. "You trying to jerk off to my stories?"

I chuckled. 

"What stories?" I said sarcastically. 

He smiled, looking over at me.

"I got some boob once," he said, and I felt my body perk up again. 

"Oh yeah?" I said, reaching for myself. 

"Yeah. And I almost fingered her."

"Nice," I said, rubbing myself openly, doing nothing to stop my blanket from moving on its own.

He looked me dead in the eyes, and reached for himself too, silently establishing what I had hoped for. 

We watched each other jerk off for a few seconds. I looked at his face. He had a younger look than me. I could tell he barely had to shave yet. 

"How big is your dick?" he asked.

"Six inches," I said. "You?"

"Slightly less," he said flatly.

"Okay, we gotta do this," I said. "Whip it out."

He looked at me carefully. "What?"

"Let's compare."

He smiled, almost giggling.

"You wanna look at my dick."

"No homo, bro. You're not curious how we actually stack up?"

He held my eyes for a second. "Fine."

He flipped his blanket off his lap and I flipped mine, and there we were, two hard virgins on opposite walls with our dicks standing out in the lamp light.

His was thick as hell, and actually kind of long. Longer than me, which made me frown a little without realizing it. It was a fat hog of a dick, clearly superior to mine. It was so wide his fingers barely closed around it. Mine stood clearly fine on its own, hooking upward toward my stomach with a solid head on the end. 

"Bro, you got a monster can of a cock," I said. "You're bigger than six. More like seven, or more."

"No way," he said.

"When did you last measure it?"

"Like tenth grade, I think," he said, but he clearly wasn't even sure.

"Well you've grown," I said.

We looked for a couple more seconds at each other, and then both blankets came back up, and our hands kept moving underneath them.

"What do you think about?" he asked. "When you do it."

"Normally just porn," I said.

"Me too."

Then after a second, he reframed his question.

"But, like, what makes you cum? Like when you think about a girl you know in real life."

"Oh. Then, like, her on top," I said. "Or just getting head. Or getting pegged."

He chuckled. "Nice. Kinda tame though."

"What do you like then?"

"A girl with big boobs," he said, and the lump of his fist picked up speed under his blanket. "She's wearing a tank top. I think about pulling it down with my teeth and sucking on them. Then I bend her over a table or desk right in the middle of a classroom, and I pound her from the back while she tries to stay quiet so no one hears us in the hallway."

"That's hot. And really specific."

"Years of development, bro."

"Have you ever," I started, pausing, "...jerked off in a classroom?"

"Dozens of times," he said quickly, without flinching.

"Jesus," I said, "And I wasn't sure if you were a freak like me."

"Where's the weirdest place you've jerked it?" he asked.

"Umm, my friends and I were kind of freaky. We had a competition on a bus once, during a field trip."

"Nice," he said. "You're the first friend I've had like... this."

My fist matched his pace as we continued talking, and the room filled up with the small sounds of our fabric shifting and our hands rubbing our dicks, his bed frame ticking against the wall, his breath coming through his nose loud enough to hear across the gap between our beds.

"Say the desk part again," I said. "About the girl you wanna bang."

"She's biting the sleeve of her shirt so her mom doesn't hear." His voice thinned out at the end of it, and I turned to look at his face. 

"Are you close?" I said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I wanna do the girl with you. At the same time."

"Bro, we're not sharing her."

"Too late. I'm gonna cum."

I grabbed the old t-shirt off the floor next to my bed just in time and squirted into it hard, three long pulses that made my legs straighten out under the blanket. A few seconds later he grunted through his teeth, his hips lifting clean off his mattress, and finished into a shirt of his own.

He balled up his cumrag and tossed it out toward the middle of the floor. I threw mine after it. The two shirts came down on top of each other between our beds, his and mine, one little pile of the same laundry. I got the image in my head of our fluids mixing together as they soaked through the cloths.

We lay there breathing for a minute, blankets half kicked off, and then he started talking again, and I got the whole rundown of everything he had ever actually done with a girl.

····[]····

Over the next couple days, we came to an unspoken agreement that neither of us was going to pretend we didn't jerk off. The room was too small to do otherwise. After a couple days it wasn't even awkward anymore. We'd strike out at some party, walk back to the dorm, and jerk it in our own beds while we each watched our own stuff on our phones. Sometimes we did it twice, spurred on by the other. And sometimes we talked our fantasies out loud to each other while we stroked it out. 

And Brayden was a freak about it.

"I need a girl that'll let me hit it in the ass," he said one night, mid-stroke, his other hand holding his phone, probably watching an anal video. "Like, rough anal. That's the dream. And I'd eat her out first. Honestly I'd eat the ass too, I don't care."

"You'd eat ass before you've even kissed anybody," I said, stroking along, amused at his fantasy.

"Especially because I haven't kissed anybody."

"You're a certified freak, bro."

"You know it."

Even if he was a bit weirder than me sometimes, I knew I was still the real freak. And I never stopped stroking while he talked. I kept my eyes on my own screen and my hand on my own dick and let him narrate. 

That was pretty much our whole social life for the first few weeks. Other guys on the floor were out at pregames and house parties, and we were leaving the parties early to come home to our room and goon our brains out, eventually up to two loads a night each. We essentially raced each other to see who could cum first, then made the second one last longer. It was the best gooner bro friendship I had ever had. 

The cumrag pile moved to the corner of the room, and got taller each day. We had turned striking out into a hobby. Of course, we still needed to have some real pussy at some point, but this part was okay for now.

Kyria was the hot girl of our hall, a couple doors down, and she was stacked, dark hair to the middle of her back, and an ass that made watching her walk feel like looking at porn. Guys propped their doors open just to see when she walked by.

And one day, Brayden and I finally got invited to something worthwhile. A sophomore named Trey was throwing a party in an off-campus house with a basement, and the invite came through a group chat we had never been in before, with guys whose names I barely recognized. But it was only the third week of college, classes had barely started, and it wasn't strange to just show up at places where you didn't know anyone. They apparently just added us. We did not care that we didn't know anyone there. The group chat was all dudes, talking about how sexy this party was going to be. 

"Everyone will be getting a nut, guaranteed," one of the messages read, and a dozen guys liked the message. 

Brayden and I talked about actually losing our V-cards. Kyria must be going. Everyone must be going if they invited us.

The night of the party, Brayden was on his bed with his back against the stone wall, one knee up, making me walk him through the party, and what getting with a girl was going to be like, as if I knew any more than he did. 

I said you just go upstairs with a girl and then you do it. When she's ready, you just stick it in, just like in porn. I realized when I said it out loud that I was also completely out of my element. I had no idea what to actually do to get to the point where you're sticking your dick into the girl, let alone what the actual mechanics would be like once I got inside. 

"The most important thing is probably learning how to actually fuck. Like, make her feel good."

He rubbed his face with both hands. "You're not helping." 

I was turned around backward in my desk chair with the seat squeaking every time I shifted.

"And on top of all that," he said, "I want you to tell me how not to be the guy that lasts four seconds."

"What're your thoughts?" I said, unsure of what to do or say next.

"I have no idea," he said, "I feel like I will cum immediately. I get close to cumming just sitting near a girl. I literally will get hard and my dick rubs against my pants on its own, just from getting a boner, and that has made me cum before."

"Same thing has happened to me!" I said, excited for a moment, before realizing how fucked we both were. In the bad way. 

He pointed at me. "Exactly. Neither of us knows. And everybody else already knows."

That part was true. Every guy on our floor talked about girls with a sort of relaxed authority, almost like sex was just a casual thing that happened on its own, all the time. Trey, down the hall, had a girlfriend at another school and also, apparently, was able to fuck a different girl every weekend. Marcus two doors down said the phrase "when I was hooking up with this older girl over the summer" at least once a day, and he said it while doing something else, like putting on his acne cream next to me at the sink in the common bathroom.

Brayden sat back against the cinderblock and sighed.

"Honestly? My fear is I bust before I'm even in," he said. "Like she's naked, she's ready, I'm lining it up, and I just cum on the outside of her. Right on her thigh or whatever. Before the sex has technically even started. And then I get soft and nervous."

I laughed at him, but then I thought about it.

"Yeah, I could see that happening to me too," I admitted. "Squirting at the entrance like a broken firehose while some poor girl is waiting for a real man to show up." 

"Marcus said he's fucked like thirty girls," I said. "We should ask him for advice."

"Marcus is lying. But it doesn't matter if he's lying." He looked at the ceiling with his hands laced on his stomach. "We need literal experience. And we only have like two hours before the party."

"Hookers?" I said in my most ironic voice.

"Yeah, I don't wanna get AIDS."

"Jesus christ," I said.

"Put something on your computer. Maybe we can practice via gooning."

I laughed. He laughed. But we watched porn anyway. That was normal for us already, except this time we pulled out our dicks openly, with the laptop propped between us on his bed while we talked about it.

He kept calling things fake. 

"She's not really enjoying that," he said. "She's just doing that for the camera. Nobody does that." 

I asked him how he would know and he said he wouldn't, that was the problem, and then scrolled to one with bad lighting in a small room and said that one was more like what it was actually going to be. The guy on the screen pulled out and went for the girl's mouth, and Brayden made a considering noise and asked if I would do that. 

"If she said to," I said. He asked if she would say to and I asked him how the hell I was supposed to know.

He laughed at that, a quick little hiccup laugh I was used to hearing. 

Then he was quiet for a second and said, "That's the part I've never gotten. Like I don't even know what that feels like. Getting sucked. I have literally no data for this."

"Same."

"None."

"None."

"So we're gonna show up, supposedly to get laid with experienced girls, and both of us are running blind."

"Yep."

"We should just suck each other and get it over with," he said.

It was a joke. I laughed. He laughed. The porn continued playing.

And then neither of us said anything for about ten seconds, which felt like a long time.

"I mean," I said.

"I was kidding," he said, leaning away from me as if to hide his dick, inadvertently flashing his hairless little ass to me.

"Right."

"Obviously."

"Obviously," I said. "Unless..."

He turned his head and looked at me. Not a big dramatic look. Just a look.

"Unless what."

"It's the joke people say. I was just kidding."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I think you weren't kidding."

"You want to blow each other then?"

"No homo, but like..." he looked down at my dick in my hands. "No. No. No we can't. We're not doing that."

"We could," I said.

"Why should we?"

"Practice." My mouth was moving fast. "Like it's not a gay thing, but we'll know what it's like. We haven't had it done at all. We're behind. Girls do this with each other all the time. It's literally a girls' sleepover staple activity."

"You really think so?" I asked, rubbing myself naturally.

"So we catch up to the other guys, using a shortcut."

"In a no homo way."

He nodded.

He slid down off his elbow toward my crotch, and looked at my dick up close as I held it in my hand. 

"Alright, I'll go," he said, and I turned my face toward the porn, bracing for whatever came next.

He reached for the base of my dick, peeling my fingers off my own dick and replacing them, and it felt better than I expected it to. He gave it a squeeze, then ran his fist up to the end a couple times quickly. His grip squeezed tighter than mine usually did, but it worked.

"No homo," I said, "but it actually feels better when it's someone else's hand."

He chuckled, still stroking me at his own unhurried pace. "Is this the best handjob you've ever gotten?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's the only..."

He cut me off as his mouth dropped down onto my dick, shutting me up.

It was warm and wet and it felt good, but it also felt completely wrong, and my body did not know what to do with the fact that the top of a male head was moving down there, and I got softer instead of harder. It was too weird. And his head and body were blocking the porn.

"Stop, stop," I said, pushing his head back. "This is weird, dude, I can't."

He came up off me and looked at my face from about eight inches away. His mouth was shiny.

"Just think about Kyria," he said. "Look at your phone."

I picked up my device and opened instagram, searching for the last thing she posted, and Brayden went back down. I turned off my brain for a second, and before I knew it, I was harder than I had ever been in my entire life. I could finally appreciate the warm wetness of the mouth that was pleasuring me.

"Fuck," I said, "It actually feels really good."

He grunted a quick response directly onto my cock.

"Okay wait," I said. "Wait. I'm gonna cum."

He didn't come off me. He said something with me still in his mouth that I couldn't understand, then pulled back an inch. "Already?"

"Yeah."

"Think about something nasty. Think about my smelly shoes."

I laughed and my dick jumped in his hand and I actually did it. I pictured his black Nikes under the bed, the ones he wore to intramural with no socks, and the particular smell that came off them when the window unit pushed air the wrong direction. It genuinely backed me off from orgasm, maybe fifteen percent.

He hummed around me and I could feel him twitch his tongue and the shoes lost their potency in my head.

I lasted maybe another thirty seconds, which still felt like a win, and then it came out of me hard enough that my heels dug into his blanket, and some of it got in his mouth before he got clear of it, aiming my dick at my abs and letting the rest spill onto my body. He turned his head and spat off the side of the bed into the trash can, then wiped his lip with the back of his wrist.

"I think that actually worked," I said, breathing. "I kind of had some control over it at the end there."

"Then why'd you finish in my mouth?"

"Well," I said. "I didn't have that much control."

He laughed the hiccup laugh. Then he leaned back against the wall, and he pushed his shorts down, and it was my turn.

He took it out and I stopped talking.

It was bigger than mine, and looked even bigger up this close. It sat in his hand as he squeezed it. It was thick and heavy and already half up with anticipation, and there was a smell coming off him, not a bad smell, just a very male aroma. It honestly reminded me more of the cumrag pile than it did of a human. It was pure balls, and I felt my face grimace on its own. His dick was right there, and he was waiting and I could see it getting harder while I looked at it, which somehow made it worse.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't do it."

"C'mon man," He said lightly as his eyebrows went up. "After I did you already?"

"Yeah, man. I'm so sorry. I just can't."

He looked down at himself, then at the wall over my shoulder, and his hand opened and closed on his own thigh.

"Well, what am I gonna do," he said. "Fuck you?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. No homo, but I'd actually rather you did that." My pulse was slamming in my throat and the words came out of me before I even rationalized it. "You deserve it after all. I just can't do the other thing."

"Okay," he said.

He got up and opened the desk drawer for his gooner oil, the bottle of baby oil he used when he needed it. I heard the plastic click of the cap and then I was lying face down on his bed with my face on his pillow, my pants still on, bracing yet again for what would come next.

He reached for my waistband, and I lifted my hips as he pulled my pants down past my knees. There was a cold line of wetness poured onto my ass, and then his hand spread it between my cheeks, pulling them to the side one at a time and gently inspecting me.

Just before I was going to ask what his actual plan was, his weight came onto the mattress, and I felt him work himself the rest of the way hard, his knuckles rubbing against the back of my thigh as he stroked himself, and then he leaned forward, his left arm appearing in front of my face as the pressure started between my butt cheeks.

"Wait," I said.

He stopped. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it's okay. Just go slow."

He went slowly. It was a strange, full pressure that kept going after I expected it to stop, finding spots deeper and deeper inside me as I felt myself stretching to accommodate his greased up hog. He leaned down, letting his chest meet my back, and the weight made it slightly harder to breathe.

His face was right by my ear, his hot, uneven breath tickling the side of my face, and somewhere in there the pressure turned into something else and I pushed back into it. He felt that and started moving faster.

I couldn't say anything, but the weirdness and the discomfort were sort of overpowered as he pressed some new buttons inside me that I didn't know were there before.

I got a hand back on his forearm and squeezed until he stopped.

"Does it hurt again?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just lemme turn over."

It didn't actually hurt. But I couldn't admit that I just wanted to watch him and see what he was doing that made it feel weirdly good. I kicked my pants the rest of the way off and got onto my back, quickly lifting my legs for him.

"Go ahead," I said. "Now."

He knelt up, and aligned himself with me again, and I watched him do it, and watching him actually do it was a new experience. It was scary, seeing exactly how much of him was stretching me open. He pushed back in quickly, and he was back to balls deep inside me in seconds. He seemed to like this position even better than the first, even if my dick and balls were on display for him now, as he actively pushed my knees up to my chest. And he settled into a rhythm that kept getting rougher.

He was lasting way longer than I could have. One minute of oral had finished me off, and that took some effort. Whereas he was minutes deep inside my ass, and he was actually pounding with force, his jaw tight and his abs working hard to keep stuffing my sore ass.

Suddenly, I couldn't hide my pleasure any more, and I reached down and started stroking myself.

"What're you doing?"

"It feels good. I don't know."

"I'll do it," he said, and he pulled my hand off by the wrist and put it on the blanket and took over. And again, it felt even better. It felt a lot better, having somebody else's grip on me while he was inside me, and my ears burned so hot I could feel my own pulse in them.

He got faster. His hips started clapping against the backs of my thighs, this flat wet sound, and he kept stroking me through all of it without losing the rhythm.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a sheen of sweat appearing on his brow.

"Yeah," I said, too fast, red all the way down my neck.

"I'm about to cum," he said.

"No, wait."

He actually stopped, and he looked down at me confused, because there was no hurt this time and we both knew it. I didn't have a reason ready. I just didn't want it to be over.

I shifted my hips and he slid out of me and I rolled onto all fours facing away from him, and I heard him get his feet under him. He mounted me from above, standing on the mattress, squatting down into me at an angle that was completely new, and it went deeper than it had any of the other ways.

"Fuck, right there," I said, knowing I was going to cringe at myself later for saying it like that.

He clapped away at my ass and I put my forehead down onto the blanket. The pressure kept building in my groin as I started to slam back against him, making his dick hit deeper parts of me even harder than before. There was this bubble inside my body that got bigger every time he came down, and I breathed hard through my mouth when I understood what was happening, because nobody was touching me at the time. He kept the same steady pace and the same pressure and I blew a load onto his blanket, shaking, without a hand anywhere near me.

"Oh, I'm gonna finish now," he said.

This time I wanted him to.

He kept going and I felt him pulse inside me, twice, three times, his whole rhythm falling apart, and my arms gave out. I collapsed flat and his full body weight followed me down, slamming down on top of me and driving my hips into my own wet mess on the blanket, and he kept thrusting as much as he could from there, pinning me, his chest against my back, my face pressed into the cool part of the pillow.

When he finally pulled out of my battered hole, I turned over slowly, one shoulder at a time, keeping a forearm across my stomach.

"Woah," he said, stuffing himself back into his shorts as he looked at me. "You really did like it."

"Shut up," I said, reaching for my pants.

We both dressed. He found his shirt on the floor and smelled it and put it on anyway.

"Ready for the party?" I said.

"I mean. We should probably shower."

I looked at my watch. "Shit, it started an hour ago."

"You're right. Just hop in with me to save time."

"Okay," I said, without a second thought.

····[]····

The house had a porch couch and music coming up through the floorboards, and my ass ached the whole walk over, a low reminder with every step of what we had done. Brayden noticed me adjusting my stride on the porch stairs and smiled to himself, and said nothing.

Some guy I didn't recognize opened the door before we even knocked. 

"Hey it's those two freshman!" he yelled, and pulled us in with an arm around each of our necks, and then we were inside, and I started scanning the room for Kyria.

But there was no Kyria. There were no girls at all. And the dudes were half shirtless, one guy wearing just a jock strap, and several pairs and groups of guys were making out, running their hands up and down each other's bodies.

I looked at Brayden. He looked back at me, his face flush with fear, but his next words surprised me.

"Should we get some more... practice?"