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My Son’s RoommateSomething happened to me not long ago that altered my life. I am not a gayman. I have never liked gay men. I could never imagine how a man could besexually attracted to another man. It’s unnatural. I always believed thatit surely must be against God’s will.When my son, Mike, moved into his dorm room at college during his Freshmanyear, his mother and I visited him to make sure he was comfortable and thatall arrangements were satisfactory. We met his roommate, Tom. He seemedvery nice, and I was glad that Mike had him for a roommate. We visitedMike several times later and I always had this strange feeling that I hopedTom would always be there in the room when we walked in. My wife greetedTom with a hug and, although it’s not like me normally, I also was somehowdrawn to give Tom a hug. Tom never tried to break away from my hugs. Iwas always afraid that, as we pressed our bodies together, he would feel myboner throbbing in my pants. On several of those occasions, I thought Ifelt a hardness in Tom’s pants. But I was sure that couldn’t be. As I layin bed each night, I found it difficult to go to sleep. There wassomething about Tom. The feel of him in my arms stayed with me. When Ihugged him, my cheek always brushed against his own young smooth cheek. Ioften lay there pounding my pillow, hating the thoughts I had. I was surethat only queers would have this kind of feeling. But I wanted more thananything to touch his cheek again and feel his body in my arms. But Ihated myself for these evil thoughts—these unGodly, dirty thoughts.We had Mike and Tom at our home several times on weekends. I did my bestalways to be friendly, but I tried to avoid looking at him. Whenever I didlook at him, I could see him looking at me. Sometimes I imagined that thelooks he had on his face were looks of desire. But I was sure that thoselooks were looks of disdain. He knew. I was sure he knew of the dirtythoughts I had in my mind. Oh, how humiliated I felt. Mike’s own fatherhaving queer dirty thoughts about his roommate. One night when I went tobed, I was so distraught that I blurted out aloud, “I’m not a fuckingfagot!” My wife asked me what was the matter and I just said I must havebeen dreaming. I thought over and over how disgusted Mike would be if heknew the thoughts that his own dad had for his roommate. I would solve theproblem. I simply would not be home when Tom was around. I would have anexcuse that I had to work or I had an appointment somewhere. That wouldsolve it . . . but it didn’t.I couldn’t escape. One weekend when Mike brought Tom home, Tom was inshorts and a short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned all the way down. I felt theblood rush to my head when I saw his smooth firm chest. I would have givenanything at that moment to be able to grab him and run my tongue over thatsmooth chest. For some reason, I suddenly pulled my collar together tocover the mat of hair poking up from my own chest. I don’t know why I didthat. For some reason, I thought he might not like a hairy chest. But whyshould I have cared? But I did. It was just one more thing thatdistressed me. I could see him looking at my chest hair before I coveredit up, and I knew he must have hated to see a man with a hairy chest.I had always been very close to my mom and dad. When they both died on thesame day, I canlı bahis was so distraught for so long, I sought the advice and counselof Brian, an old friend who was a psychological ther****t. When Brian andI were c***dren, we would play around and jack-off together after school.We talked about sex a lot, but we told each other how much we hated queers.He was an enormous help to me later as a ther****t in getting me to acceptmy parents’ death. We had been so close and had shared so manyconfidences, I was sure he could help me in this current problem I wasfacing.I was very nervous, but after some initial small talk, I came right outwith it and told him of these terribly disturbing thoughts I had beenhaving for my son’s roommate. To my surprise, Brian was very calm andunderstanding. He told me he understood exactly how I felt and advised meto come to terms with it.Brian asked me if I remembered when we jacked off together as k**s. “Weenjoyed it, didn’t we?””Of course,” I said.Then he said, “And would it surprise you to know that it turned me on,doing it with you?”It did?” I said, as I gulped.”It sure did, Jef,” said Brian. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that Iwould like to do that again with you?”I could feel my face becoming hot and flushed as I said, “You would?””Come on, Jef. Would you be adverse to doing it again with me?””Well . . . no.” I said. “But we’re adults now . . . and I’m married andhave two sons.””What does that have to do with how you feel, Jef,” Brian said as he got upwalked toward the sofa in his office. “Come on over and sit with me.Let’s do it right now . . . for old time’s sake.”Before we sat down on the sofa, Brian pulled down his pants to his knees.When I looked at his hard penis, I became hard immediately. I couldn’tbelieve this was happening to me. He was just another man. It wasn’t asthough I was staring at a hot, wet pussy. It was Brian’s throbbing hardpenis. And it excited me.”Come on, pull ’em down,” Brian said. “That’s it. Now we can just actlike we’re having the same fun we used to have.”Brian reached over and took hold of my penis and began stroking it. Hisstrong hand felt so wonderful as he stroked it. “Okay, Jef, go ahead andjack me off, too, while I’m doing it to you.”I found myself feeling perfectly comfortable sitting there with him, and itexcited me to be holding his penis.I went back to his office several times, and I began to enjoy ourmasturbation sessions immensely. I even came to love the feel of his cumas it spurted onto my hand. And several times, at Brian’s urging, I tastedit. And I liked it. Eventually, one day, he leaned over and took my penisinto his mouth and gave me one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had.And it was not long before he coaxed me to do the same to him.On one of my visits, I said, “I’m not a gay man, Brian. I just don’t knowwhat’s wrong with me.””You enjoyed what we’ve been doing, didn’t you?””Of course,” I said. “I loved it and looked forward to coming here everyday. But it scares me. I lie in bed at night and masturbate, thinkingthat it’s Tom’s hand on my penis, or even his mouth. Then sometimes, Iimagine that I’m jacking off Tom’s penis instead of mine. I hug my pillowtightly, imagining that it’s his body.””Jef, you came to me for advice,” Brian said, “and you’ve now got to faceup to your bahis siteleri feelings. From what you tell me, Tom’s not going away. He’sgoing to be around a lot for a long time. You can’t hold it all in.Somehow, you’ve got to give him at least a hint of how you feel. We don’tknow how Tom will feel about it, but it’s time you found out. You can’t goon like this forever.”I still could not believe that I could have any sexual attraction toanother man. It was such a dirty thought to me. But as much as I deniedit to myself, the feelings were there for Tom, and on top of that, I wasterribly sexually aroused by the things that Brian and I had been doing.”Brian,” I said with my voice shaking, “What if I find that I really amgay?””You don’t have to put a label on how you feel, Jef,” said Brian, “Youdon’t put a label on all the other things you feel in your life. There’sno point in getting yourself all in a knot over this feeling you have forTom. You’re still the same person you ever were . . . a loving husband andfather. What you and I have been doing on your visits here, and thefeelings you have for Tom doesn’t change any of that. It’s just another oflife’s pleasures that you’ve discovered. Don’t tear yourself up over it.Continue to enjoy looking at Tom and keeping him in your jack-offfantasies. If somehow you find he feels the same way about you, so be it.Enjoy what comes into your life, Jef. Don’t fight it and don’t labelyourself as something that you imagine to be abhorrent.During Spring Vacation, Mike invited Tom to spend the week at our house. Itoyed with the idea of arranging a business trip out of town. But Iremembered what Brian had told me. Don’t run away from it. Anyway, Icouldn’t stand the thought of Tom staying and sleeping in my house withoutmy being there. I was so confused and I tried not to hate myself for thelongings I had for Tom. But how could I possibly let him know how I feltabout him. And what if Mike found out how I felt? Oh, God, I didn’t knowhow I was going to live through this. I wanted to be alone in the housewith Tom, but at the same time I was scared of what would happen if Isuddenly found myself alone with him. I could easily make a fucking foolof myself. And then Tom would be disgusted with me and tell everyone. Oh,God! What was I to do. Brian had told me to somehow give Tom a hint ofhow I felt, and let the chips fall where they may.The time did come, though, on the third day of their visit when Mike andhis mother were going to be away from the house for several hours. Mikeleft the house about 9:00 in the morning. I walked by Tom’s door. He wasjust getting up, and I said good morning. He very cheerfully, and in sucha friendly manner, returned the greeting. He told me that he was going totake a shower. And I said I would be working at the computer and that heshould let me know if there was anything he needed.I sat at my computer, trying to work, but doing nothing. The picture ofTom standing naked in the shower filled my mind. I wondered if he wasgetting his body all lathered up and masturbating in the shower. It wasalways one of my favorite places to jack-off. We were alone in the house,and I still had no idea how I was going to give Tom that hint that Briantold me I had to give. It was not long when I heard Tom at the door behindme, saying, güvenilir bahis “What’s going on?” I turned in my chair and saw him standingthere, wearing only a towel. I instinctively ran my eyes over his wholebody . . . his smooth hairless chest, the ridges of muscle in his stomach,and just a hint of pubic hair showing above the top edge of the towel. Thetowel came to just above his knees, and the graceful shape of his legs,covered with just a light dusting of soft hair, put a lump in my throat.There was a slight bulge in the towel, and I knew his penis must have beenat least semi-hard. I could see that he was making a vain effort to hideit by holding his hands down in front of him.I asked him to sit down, and as he did so, the towel rode up and I triednot to be obvious as I tried to see under it. I still didn’t know what tosay, but I knew this would be my only chance. I put my hand on his forearm. . . that smooth young skin of his . . . and rubbed it slightly. I wantedto say something, but the words just wouldn’t come to me. All that cameout of my mouth was “Tom, you’d better go and get dressed. No telling whensomebody might come home.” The second it came out, I regretted it. “Ohshit,” I thought. “Why did I say such a stupid fucking thing!” I squeezedhis arm again, hoping he wouldn’t go. Tom said nothing. The smiledisappeared from his face and he got up and started for the door. That’swhen I took hold of his upper arm again and squeezed it and smiled at him.I hoped it would make him stay, but he didn’t.As I watched Tom leave the room, I sat down. I never felt so terrible inmy life. I let the only opportunity I had to let my feelings known slipaway by saying something stupid. But I hoped that perhaps my touching Tommay have given him that hint that Brian had advised me to give him. But Igot no sign from Tom that he understood. He just left without a word.Maybe he did understand and hated me for it.For the rest of that week, Tom and I were very friendly with each other,and it seemed clear that he had not felt badly of me for touching him. Westill hugged each other, and we became just plain good friends. He evencalled me Jef, as though we were contemporaries. On many occasions afterthat, we spent a good deal of time alone together, playing racket ball andgoing out to drink beer. On one of those occasions, I told Tom that Iliked him very much and that I liked being with him. He told me that heliked me very much, also, and that he considered us the best of friends.As we would sit across the table drinking beer, I no longer felt anyinhibitions about my touching his hand or his arm as we talked. And he didthe same.After our racket ball sessions at the gym, we always shower together. Ienjoy looking at Tom’s naked body, and I don’t hide that fact from him. Hecan’t help but see me looking. And I’ve noticed that he makes no attemptto hide his interest in my body. One time, he even told me that he wishedhe had as much hair on his body as I do.We are indeed very close friends. I no longer fret over labels, as Brianadvised. I never think about being gay or not being gay. All I know isthat I love Tom very much, even beyond my mere sexual attraction to him,and only hope that he loves me as much. I often think that he does. Butit doesn’t matter. We’re friends. And what might happen or not happenbeyond that as time goes on . . . well, we’ll just take what comes as partof the rich friendship we share. No matter what the future holds, we willalways be the best of friends.Comments? Please write me.

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