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My Cool College Roommate Sucked My Dick

Chapter 4: Going Both Ways

"Do you, uh... want me to return the massage now?"

He paused for a moment.

"No," he said, with his back still to me and his bare ass still pressed against my hip. He hadn't turned anything down since I moved in. But I offered him the one thing he'd actually asked me for and he said no.

I laid there with my hand half wrapped around myself under the blanket. It wasn't going anywhere either. It stayed up the whole time I was working out what I'd done wrong.

Maybe I'd insulted him.

"Okay," I said. "My bad."

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. He didn't roll over.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said.

"Of course," I said, way too fast and way too cheerful. "You'd do the same for me. You already did do the same for me. Like twice."

Nothing moved. Not him, not me, not the blanket.

"Okay," Jaxon said. "Do it."

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I reached over his shoulder for the lamp cord on the wall side, because I wanted to see what I was doing if I was about to use my dick for an ass busting massage. His hand came off the bed and caught my wrist before I got there.

"Leave it off."

So the lights stayed off, and the only thing coming in was the light from the grassy quad, through the curtains. I could barely see the shape of him in front of me.

"Do it by sense of touch," he whispered, and it gave me chills for some reason. My body was reacting in a new way. I didn't want to admit it, but it felt different.

I pressed my hard dick against his butt cheek. "It's almost like..."

"Like what?" he said softly.

"Like being with a chick."

"Yeah," he said, chuckling lightly through his nose. "You could say that."

He let go of my wrist.

His bed is eighty inches and I am seventy-nine and change, so moving around in this bed with another  dude already in it is like getting dressed in a car. I got my knees under me and cracked one against the cinderblock wall, and both my feet went off the end into open air.

"Your bed sucks," I said.

"Every bed here sucks."

"At least you fit in it."

"But do you fit in me?"

He rolled off his side onto his stomach and folded his arms up under his head, face turned toward the wall. Exactly the position I'd been in for both of my massages.

I got up on my knees and swung a leg over and settled straddling the backs of his thighs, my embarrassingly hard dick hovering above his butt cheeks. Neither of us had anything on, because of his fabric softener requirements.

I rubbed my palms together fast first, because that's what he did and it seemed professional.

I put the base of my hands low on his back, thumbs on either side of his spine, and pushed up and out, making circles.

"Too much finger," he said into his own forearm.

"What?"

"Try not to claw at me. Use the heel of your hand. Lean on it."

"I don't wanna crush you though."

"I can take it. Don't be gentle."

So I leaned on it. I put actual weight down through my arms, and I felt his lower back crack under my weight.

"Shit are you okay??"

"Yeah," he said through a groan. "That was... good." 

I drove both my hands firmly up along his spine, and he breathed out hard through his nose, and his whole back gave way under my hands, way more than I expected.

"Dude, you're so soft," I said. "Not soft. I mean, like relaxed I guess. Mine doesn't do that."

"Your body is made of brick. That's why."

I got good at it quickly, based on his response.

But I was hard the entire time, and I was straddling him, so eventually it was pinned flat between my stomach and the top of his ass, basically hotdogging between his cheeks, warm on both sides, and every time I rocked forward to get weight over my hands, it dragged. I shifted my hips back once to get it out of the way and that made it worse, because then it was just sitting on him.

"Fair warning," I said. "Same thing as last time. Take it as a compliment."

"It's cool," Jaxon said. "It'll help with the next part."

I found a knot up under his shoulder blade, a hard little lump sitting off the bone, and I leaned my whole upper body onto my thumbs the same way he'd done to me, and he grunted into his forearm. 

"Is that the spot?" I said. "That felt like a spot."

"That was... one spot," he said, "I have another though."

And every time I pressed down on his lower back his hips pushed into the bed, and I knew exactly what was going on under there because I'd done that exact push myself.

"Go lower," he said. "It's all connected. Get the glutes."

So I moved my hands off his lower back and down onto his ass. I remembered looking at it on move-in day, and now I had both hands full of it in the dark with my whole weight coming down through my arms, thumbs digging in from the outside and working toward the middle, the same way he did on me. And under each meaty, bubbly orb, it was firm.

"Keep going," he said after a minute. 

He reached back off the bed, felt around on the desk, and found the bottle. He held it back over his shoulder into the dark until I took it.

"Okay," I said, feeling myself inexplicably perk up, my heart starting to beat faster. "We're doing that part, now."

"That's the whole point."

I got the cap open one-handed, which took two tries, and poured some of the cold oil onto my fingers.

I warmed it up between my fingers first, rubbing it around like he'd taught me, with my palms, while he waited peacefully beneath me.

I spread him open with my thumb and worked a finger in slowly, a little pressure and then a little more, and he squeezed down on it hard. All at once, everything, glutes and thighs and his whole back, under my other hand.

He breathed out, and it all let go, and I slid my finger the rest of the way in.

It was hotter in there than I expected and way tighter than I assumed it would be, for as casual as he'd been about the whole thing. It gripped down the length of my finger and then pulled, dragging at it every time he breathed. I worked it slowly in and out, turning my wrist, and then I crooked it forward toward his front and pressed.

His hips came up off the bed. "Oh, fuck." 

"Ha! I got it," I said. "First try. That's the spot, right? That's it."

He didn't confirm it. He nodded into his forearm, or at least his head moved, and his hips kept pushing back onto my finger every time I pressed.

I stayed up on my knees behind him working that, and my own dick throbbed heavy against the back of his thigh, resting right there on him.

"It's not enough," he said.

"What's not enough?"

"Your finger."

Six-seven, sixteen shoe, seven-one wingspan, and my finger is too short. Great.

"Just use your dick," he said, over his shoulder into the dark. "I told you."

"I mean." I sat back on my heels. "Is that gonna fit, though? Like physically."

"Just go slow."

I got more lube on myself, a lot of it, and got up on my knees behind him. He tilted his hips up and worked his own forearm under his stomach for the angle, his face still turned to the wall.

I had to reach down and find it with my hand because I couldn't see anything, and the first attempt slid straight up over the opening and went nowhere.

We both laughed. Two seconds of it, and then it stopped.

I lined it up again and pushed, and the head went in, and he squeezed down on it so hard I stopped.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." His voice came out through his teeth. "Just gimme a second."

So I held still, which was its own problem, because my hips wanted to move on their own and I had to brace my thighs to keep from going. Then his internal muscles eased off, and I pushed in another inch, and he clamped again, and I stopped again.

"Should I stop?"

"Don't stop. Keep going. Just slow."

An inch, a grip, a stop, him breathing out long through his teeth, another inch. That was the whole pattern for what felt like a long time. The hold on me was insane. It would crush down until it almost hurt and then release in stages, not all at once, like it was letting go one ring at a time, and every time it let go I got a little more in. Nothing a girl's body has ever done to me works like that. A girl's body opens up and then hits a wall. This one fought me and then gave, a seemingly infinite depth, just in small bites.

My hands started out braced flat on his lower back where I'd had them for the massage, and as I went deeper I ran out of arm and had to fold down, sliding my palms up onto his shoulders and lowering my chest onto his back.

When I finally got all the way in I stopped moving and stayed there, flat on his back, breathing into his hair.

He said something into his own arm.

"What?"

"I said you're all the way in," he said.

"Say it again."

"Shut up."

I started moving, short at first, a couple inches, because I had it in my head that I was going to injure him.

"Harder," he said.

I gave it to him harder, and he didn't really say anything after that. Not one word of coaching, not one correction, which for a guy who had narrated every single thing either of us had done to each other since move-in day, was pretty noticeable.

So I set my knees and spread my hands on his shoulder blades and started actually using my hips, thrusting. 

"It's almost like sex," I said.

He breathed out hard, almost like he was trying to laugh, and my rhythm got longer, most of the way out and all the way back, and the frame started knocking the wall.

There was just enough light off the blinds to make out the pale shape of his back under me and my own hands, which looked enormous on him, my fingers spreading out past his shoulder blades on both sides. His messy hair was in my mouth. I kept turning my face to get it out and it kept coming back.

And it kept surprising me that he could take it. Girls I'd been with, the good ones, the ones who actually wanted it, still put a hand on my hip about halfway in to slow me down. Every single one. He had his face in his arm and he was taking all of it and basically asking for more, and some competitive part of me that I'm not proud of started going at it harder.

"Why does this feel so good?" I muttered.

"You've probably never been this deep before," he grunted.

That set me off. Balls to the wall, full hips, my whole weight coming down on every stroke, and the clapping got loud, five pat-pat-pats a second, wet and hard, and the frame hit the wall with it. Sweat built up between my chest and his back until I was sliding on him and had to grab his shoulders to hold my position.

"I'm so far in you right now, dude," I said.

"Shut up and keep going."

The build toward orgasm came up on me faster than I expected.

"I'm gonna cum," I said. "Where do I, where do you want it?"

"Inside." He got it out in one breath. "Fucking cum in me."

"Fuck."

I buried it and finished inside him with my chest flat on his back and both hands clamped on his shoulders, and I felt every pulse of it leave me, four or five long ones, my hips still jerking forward on their own. I even felt my taint and my ass tensing up, like it was a stronger orgasm than normal.

And I was louder than I usually am. Some noise came out of me, high-pitched and boyish and embarrassing, running on way too long, with a shared wall and Danny from the swim team six inches away on the other side of it, and I couldn't stop, or didn't want to in the moment.

Under me, his back seized and stayed seized, everything across his shoulders locking under my chest, and his own fist was trapped under his stomach. He'd been working himself the whole time. He squirted into his own sheets right there underneath himself with his face jammed into his arm.

I collapsed down onto his back, letting all my weight just press into him, and neither of us moved, my feet hanging off into the dark.

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I pulled out, and in the small bed, with Jaxon lying flat like a sleepy fish, I had nowhere to put my knee. I put it somewhere, and then he moved it away. His elbow got under my ribs. My arm went dead under his shoulder and I had to drag it out by the wrist with my other hand.

"Dude." I put my palm down in the middle of his bed. "Your bed is soaked now."

"There's a leak."

I laughed so hard the frame shook against the wall. "There's a leak."

"In the ceiling."

"There's a leak, Jaxon."

I ended up on my side facing him with absolutely nowhere to put either arm, one under my own head and one folded against my chest like a T-rex. And he was turned toward me.

"Thanks for showing me that technique," I said, finally drifting off toward sleep.

"No, uh... no problem," he said, scooting closer toward me.

"So are we even now?" I said.

"Not even close."