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Room 119/Chris Donaldson

Chapter 2

All characters in this story are over the age of 18. Chapter 1 dealt with Chris and his new roommate, Justin, on their first night together. They are both sophomores in college. Chris is out only to an older female friend, and Justin is, to all appearances, straight. Justin has urges, however, and only a few hours after they met, he assaulted his roommate’s mouth relentlessly while treating him like a submissive. Chris was humiliated, but also turned on.


Chris woke, groggy and with a hardon that felt like it was going to burst. He felt under his pillow for his jar of lube, and ran his hand back and forth over the sheet without finding anything. And then he started to remember . . . his new roommate, Justin, had taken his lube last night, as well as Chris’ oral virginity. The memories washed over Chris like the flood of cum escaping from Justin’s dick the night before: his attraction to his hot, muscular roommate . . . the drink of bourbon that had nearly incapacitated him . . . the attempt to jack off which had been interrupted by Justin’s return. And more memories . . . Justin’s friendly smile changing to one of contempt, Justin forcing Chris to suck his dick, the stink of Justin’s uncut manhood. And the orders to Chris as he went to bed, with Justin treating him like some kind of slut or servant, who would be called upon in the morning. What was the last thing Justin had said – not to speak unless spoken to? Jesus Christ, who IS this fucking crazy roommate?

Chris remembered something else, and felt his face with his right hand. Although Justin’s slaps had felt like searing brands at the time, there was no pain now.

I wonder if there’s a bruise, Chris thought, panicking. He was alert now, and had to piss like a motherfucker. Justin’s regular breathing came up from below. Asleep, Chris thought. Thank God.

Chris descended from the top bunk carefully and picked up his toiletry bucket and a towel. He grabbed some clean clothes while he was at it. He needed to be alone, to think, to figure out what the hell he was feeling. He added his wallet, keys and cell phone to his bucket, and opened the door as silently as he could. Afraid to look back, he listened for Justin’s breathing – no change. Thank God.

Chris left room 119, shut the door quietly, and nearly ran to the bathroom. He looked at his phone: 7:21. No one else was up yet. Perfect. Time to shower, think this out. Even if Justin came in to take a whizz, Chris would have time to get away if he hurried. As Chris’ head cleared, he felt a rush of shame. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t fought back. Terrified of what he would see, he looked in the mirror.

“Damn!” Chris was shocked. Not a mark. Not even any redness. He looked exactly like his normal, cute, scruffy, nerdy but fit self. No bruising from the slaps, and no mark of Satan on his forehead reading “Cocksucker”, either.

He put his bucket and clothes on the window sill and used the toilet, relieved. Quick into the shower. No time to waste. He scrubbed his body with an Old Spice body wash (he had been an Axe man in high school to fit in, a habit he quickly dropped at college after his suite mates had made fun of him). He slid a finger up his hole to clean it out, as he did every day . . . why do I do that, he thought. Am I really such a whore that every day I’m trying to be ready for some dick to penetrate me, just in case I meet one? Some big, uncut, veiny dick like Justin’s 8-incher?

STOP. Do NOT think of him. Put his ripe, uncut, incredibly hot penis out of your fucking mind. This is hygiene. And that dick raped your mouth last night, dumbass.

Chris smiled wryly as he soaped his thin 4.5-inch cock and pubes. He remembered Justin’s order not to shoot without permission; he was going to obey this morning, even though he was horny and blue-balled from several vain attempts to cum in the last 24 hours. Not because he wanted to comply, but only because he needed to get out of the damn dorm and get his head together.

God, this is so fucked up, Chris thought, remembering Justin’s sweaty nuts which he had licked so eagerly the night before. This guy is a psychopath, but I’m still turned on by him.

Enough. Chris shut off the water, dried himself in a few seconds, and dressed. He ran to the sink and brushed his teeth.

Aha. My jaw aches. What a surprise.

Still, he was relieved there was no visible evidence of his hard use the night before. Afraid to reenter the room and risk waking Justin, he stashed his toiletry bucket behind a couch in the common area and raced out of the dorm.

Coffee, he though. Coffee and a bagel sandwich with egg and bacon.

Half an hour later, his belly full and somewhat calmer, he assessed his situation. Be systematic and objective, he thought.

Point 1: I’m gay, and I’ve now had my first sexual experience.

Point 2: I was forced into it.

Point 3: Although I was forced, on a lot of levels I really enjoyed it. I discovered I love the scent of my roommate’s crotch Sakarya Escort even when it’s sweaty; that the musky taste of what lay under his foreskin was pretty amazing; that I even kissed his ass cheeks with gusto when they were offered; and . . . STOP. Be objective, not fawning. He’s hot, but he’s bad news.


Point 4 (and this was the tough one): Did I enjoy being manhandled? Not the face slapping, no. But being forced to my knees? Didn’t that give me a boner through my panic and pain? Even though I thought I wanted a gentle introduction to oral sex, didn’t I stay hard through getting face fucked?

Point 5: That was only because you were frustrated, drunk, and horny from having tried to jack off and failed twice.

Point 6: I wasn’t drunk at that point, and doesn’t being drunk make it hard to stay hard anyway?

Point 7: So you want to be a submissive whore?

Point 8: No! Wait . . . maybe? STFU, I’m trying to make sense of this!


He had enjoyed it, and he had not enjoyed it. And somehow, he was going to have to figure that out. Ok, try again. A new tack: he decided to map out pros and cons of staying Justin’s roommate, since that was what this was ultimately about. Shit, he hadn’t thought to take his backpack with him when he left the room . . . and making notes on his phone wouldn’t give him the format he wanted.

I’m such a dork, he thought. He asked his waiter (handsome, Italian, large feet . . . STOP it, you fucking sex maniac!) for a pen, and drew a line down his napkin. Pluses and minuses to staying in the room.

Roommate is unbalanced – Minus. He’s already indicated he drinks a lot. We’ve seen where that leads – Minus. He’s hot – Plus. He seemed like such a nice guy at first . . . maybe he was just drunk and horny, and he’s going to be embarrassed today – Plus? I would like to learn to enjoy bourbon – Plus. He’s in a frat, maybe he’ll hook me up with one of his brothers – Plus.

Chris paused.

He basically told me last night that he wanted to make me his servant. His cock slave. That there were going to be rules. That I would have to address him a certain way. That he would control me in the room – Minus.



Are you fucking kidding me?

And so Chris’ mind went back and forth, the caffeine helping him wake up, but not think clearly. He thought of his freshman year. Well-liked, but no true friends. He wanted a bud. He wanted, let’s be honest, dick. And last night and this morning he had realized, albeit in awkward circumstances, that it wasn’t necessarily just dick he wanted. He had been bowled over by Justin’s scent, too, his commanding presence, his ability to take what he wanted. Chris was inexperienced, but had read and seen a fair amount of porn. The BDSM stuff had always seemed frightening, but he had certainly found himself watching a minute or two of a number of rough videos, and then quickly switching to something else. I’m 19, he thought. Time to grow up, yeah? What do I want? What am I afraid of?

That worked. He knew what he was afraid of – being caught in an abusive situation that he couldn’t get out of. He knew what he wanted – Justin’s musky dick and nuts, and other parts, but in a nicer way. Having a regular dick to suck in his own room was just as appealing to him as having a cocksucker in the room must have been to Justin . . . but there had to be lines. Rules. And not just Justin’s rules. Yes, Chris had submitted, knelt, and begged to jack off, called Justin “Sir”. But they were both drunk. Odds are Justin wouldn’t remember it all clearly, and even if he did, Chris was not a pushover. As soon as he felt psychologically fortified, he would go back to the room and confront Justin. He was smaller, but he would not let that intimidate him again. In daylight, sober, this would all be different. It had been a bad start to a roommate relationship, but maybe they could salvage it in a way that worked for both of them. Conflict resolution classes had been a requirement during freshman orientation week last year; use those skills! Find a way! You both want there to be some action; Justin also has something to lose since he has a girlfriend, and she won’t be impressed with her stud getting sucked by some random guy on the side. Plus, he’s certainly not out to anyone in his frat. And SAE is notoriously homophobic, so he won’t want that to get out. Yeah, he took those pics of you with his nutt on your face, but you’re not unarmed, Chris thought, so just be reasonable and rational, but firm. Forgive and forget; accept Justin’s apology; keep your distance, and when the moment arises, assure Justin that you’d be happy to suck his dick again, but when you BOTH want it. And none of this “Sir” bullshit.

Chris’ smallish dick stiffened.

Are you fucking kidding me? Did calling him Sir make you hard?

He sprang a full-fledged boner.

It had. It did. This was not good.

Thinking of dead cats to try and conceal his erection, Chris got up from the café and headed back to Kroetzger. There’s always the RA, Adapazarı Escort he thought. If this conversation goes poorly, make your case to him.

Are you really going to tell your RA your roommate forced you to suck his dick? Won’t he think you’re just a wimp? Or making it up? Or just a fag?

Chris pushed those thoughts aside. One step at a time. Although his emotions were turbulent, he focused on his plan: nip this shit in the bud and don’t be a victim. Work it out man to man, and Justin will respect you. That’s what his friend Pat would have advised, Chris was sure – she was a tough woman, and would not have let some college roommate walk all over her. Had she even been to college?


Chris reentered room 119, with as much confidence as he could muster, puffing out his 5’8″ 145 lb. body as much as his small frame allowed.

Justin was not asleep. Justin was standing in the middle of the room, stark naked, scratching his nuts.

Chris stopped dead.

“Shut the door.”

Chris shut the door.

“Justin – ”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, I told you that.”

Chris stammered, “But I need to talk to you, Justin.”

“SIR. It’s Sir, you dumb faggot. Now get on your knees, I have a job for you.”

Justin’s uncut dick was indeed swelling; half hard, Chris could guess his heartbeat by the way it throbbed rhythmically as it expanded.

Sweet Jesus, Chris thought, that is one amazing piece of meat.


Chris swallowed and remained standing.

“Listen, Justin, I’m not going to do this.”

Justin approached Chris casually, raising his right arm slowly. Chris flinched visibly, but held his ground.

“Why are you doing this? You’re not a bad guy. We have a whole year together. I can’t stay here like this,” Chris blurted out. “I’m going to the RA if you keep this up. Just sit down, calm down. I want to talk to you.”

Justin continued to walk slowly towards Chris, a swagger in his step, his arm drawing back slowly. An inch in front of his roommate, Justin stopped, and put his hand lightly on Chris’ face, cupping his cheek. Almost gently. A sly smile crept over Justin’s face.

“Didn’t you hear what I was saying last night, Chrissy? I’ve got a plan for you. We’re going to have a great time this year, you just need to do what I tell you to. You promised me, remember? I have a commitment.” Justin stroked Chris cheek with his thumb. “You wanted it to be easy. I’m not going to hit you, because you told me you’d give it up to me easy. So get on your knees like a good cocksucker, and I’ll give you something you’ll love.”

Justin’s eyes shone with a genuine warmth.

“I know you loved my dick, Chrissy. Here it is again. Come on, roomie. You know you want it.” He stroked Chris’ cheek again. His thumb moved over to the shorter guy’s lips, and gently traced them back and forth. “Smile, babe. You’re getting a present. You should be happy. You probably beat off all summer hoping for a roommate you could suck off. You got one. Don’t be a little bitch, go with what you know you want. What you know you deserve. We’ll both get what we need.” Justin leaned forward until his lips almost touched Chris’ eye. He cupped the back of Chris’ head, still gentle.

“Shhh, babe. It’s all gonna be ok.”

Chris’ dick was hard as a rock. His breathing quickened, his heart skipped two beats. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, NOOOOO.

Chris tried to pull back, but Justin’s hand was insistent. Flailing blindly, Chris pushed him in the chest. Justin stumbled over his desk chair, and Chris grabbed the door handle, every fiber in him tensed and ready.

“LISTEN to me, Justin.”

Justin recovered his balance, and smiled cockily. His cock swelled again, and was now fully hard.

“Ok, Chrissy, have your little drama. Tell me what’s on your mind, cocksucker.” Justin sat in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, his dark, hairy pits now exposed. Chris could smell the rank morning sweat from his place by the door, and his knees buckled. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!! Why do I think this guy is hot?? WHY????? Why am I turned on by his FUCKING body odor??

“Listen. Last night was fucked up. I’m not going to be your punching bag for a year. I’m not going to let me treat me like shit. I’m not going to call you Sir. I’m not going to be your slave.”

Slave? Where had that come from? Justin had never said “slave”. And Chris was aware that the one thing he *hadn’t* just said he wouldn’t do was suck his roommate’s dick. His enormous, hard-as-a-rock, uncut dick.

Justin smiled patiently. Go on, he thought. I’ve heard dudes like you say this for more years than you’ve known you were gay. They all wind up being my pussyboys in the end. Protest if it makes you feel better, but we both know where you’ll wind up. Justin settled into his chair, flexed his arms, and gloried in his power. He was angry and unhappy so much of the time, but not in moments like this. Not when there was new prey to be caught. Not when there was a nice, conventional, put-together Serdivan Escort guy to subjugate. And this one was his for a year. A whole fucking year, and no one, not in his frat, not in the dorm, not anywhere, ever needed to know how he would get his knob polished at will. And much, much more, after training. This was going to be a very good year. Much better than last year, when his roommate had been an uptight Christian, and not the secretly same-sex-attracted kind. That boy had sure spent a lot of time on his knees, but not in the way Justin wanted. Not in the way he needed. And the constant Christian pop music . . . he had almost died. Thank God for the fraternity, and his buddy the bartender who was lax about carding at the dive way downtown, far off campus. Where he had been last night.

Chris was still talking. “We need to put that shit last night behind us, and start over.”

Justin cocked his thick eyebrow at the word shit, a move he knew looked sexy and would make Chris slobber again about maligning his bourbon.

“Ok, poor choice of words,” Chris laughed falteringly, “You’re not still pissed about what I said last night, are you?”

Justin didn’t move a muscle, knowing he now had his roommate on the defensive. He made his hard dick jump again to remind Chris what this was really about.

Chris, however, ripped his eyes away from Justin’s dick, away from his hairy and powerful legs, and up and over his perfect shaved pecs. To his smoldering brown eyes. Those were dangerous too, so Chris looked slightly over Justin’s head.

“Never mind. We need to move on. I’m willing to write off last night as you being drunk and a mistake. I won’t go to the RA this time.”

Justin’s faced altered subtly. A corner of his mouth twitched. Chris read it as concern, that he had made an impression.

“But we can’t do that again. Understand? I think you’re a great guy,” Chris said, trying to positively influence the direction this year-long relationship might take. “But last night was not cool.”

Justin brought his arms down to his lap, and fondled his massive erection.

“Ok. So it wasn’t cool.” Justin smiled, he hoped patiently. “What would have made it better for you?”

That was not a question Chris had been anticipating.

“Umm . . . what?” His head spun. Try to buy time! “What do you mean?”

Justin gestured to his own bed. “Sit down. You want to talk, let’s talk.”

Chris didn’t budge, his hand still on the door handle.

“Come on, man.” Chris blushed inadvertently at the change of address. “Sit down. You can sit on my bed.” Justin smiled, pleased as ever at his own generosity.

Chris relaxed his hold on the door. Justin skinned his foreskin back and forth over his glans a few times, and gestured to his bed. Chris’ hardon would not quit, and he was starting to smell Justin’s nuts.

We need to open a window, he thought. Ok. I’ll go sit down.

Chris moved over to the bed, and sat gingerly on the edge. Justin smiled again, and scooted his chair forward. He put a hand on Chris’ knee.


Chris flinched again.

“You’re a cocksucker.” Justin’s smile was sincere, almost sympathetic.

“Chrissy. You know you want this dick. You loved it last night. Didn’t you?”

Chris didn’t move.

Justin’s cock twitched again. He slid his hand up Chris’ leg. “You gobbled it like you were a starving refugee. You kissed my ass like you were in heaven. You took my cum load all over your face, and you were boned the whole time. And then you begged me to shoot your load, and told me you would be my cock slave.”

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but Justin laid a thick finger over his lips and slid his other hand over Chris’ small endowment.

“So tell me. What would have made it better for you?”

Chris was almost in tears with horniness and the dark feelings of submissive love that had consumed him as he fell asleep the night before.

“Being nice,” he whispered.

“Ok. Like how?”

Kissing me, Chris thought, but didn’t dare say it to a straight man. He had seen enough personal ads to know that.

“Letting me take my time.”

“Take your time going down on me?”

Chris froze. After last night, could he trust this guy? Still, this was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He nodded.

Justin grinned, the way he had grinned when he first saw Chris yesterday.

“Atta gi. . . boy.”

Chris flushed and tried to pull away at the insult, but Justin moved his hand to the back of Chris’ head and pulled him gently toward him.

“Don’t be so sensitive. You wouldn’t last a day in the house.”

Chris was flattered at the implication that he could even be considered to join a frat. And yes, this was what he wanted. Almost. But the romance . . . where was the romance? Well, that might come.

“So show me how you want to take your time sucking my dick. You wanna make love to it, huh?”

Chris did. He sure as fuck did. And so he pushed Justin’s chair back a foot or two, to give himself room to kneel. Justin’s dick jumped. Chris took a good, long, joyful look at his handsome roommate’s equipment. Took the time to see how the veins wrapped, how the hair grew a little bit up the shaft, how Justin shaved his nuts, and how even erect, there was enough foreskin to cover most of the head.

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