LIVE IN LICKER

Well here it was, my junior year at college, and I finally had the chance to get a new roommate again. I'd had one my freshman year and a friend my sophomore, but they were guys who I wasn't attracted to at all so I never got to have any fun---with them, or their feet. I hoped this time around I would manage to get a guy who I found at least remotely attractive. My roommate from last year had left near the end of the semester to live with his best friend, so I got to have a private room for a month or so. I loved it at first but it got to be kinda lonely. I'm a people person, and need to be around others. So I wasn't too surprised when I got a call from Housing telling me that I would be assigned a new roommate.

"Wait a minute", I said, "don't I get to pick who I wanna live with?"

"I'm sorry," answered the man, "but they're tearing down Martin Hall and we have to find places to squeeze in all these guys."

That was a hot phrase in itself, but still, I wasn't too happy about having someone thrown in with me. But I accepted what he said in good enough terms and hung up. I knew that Martin was the dorm where most of the male athletes stayed, but I wasn't too positive.

"Let's face it," I told myself, "I'll probably wind up with the freakiest or dorkiest guy who lived there---probably not even an athlete."

My luck with getting around the right guys had never been good, and I was certain it wasn't about to change now. The next day I had a message from Housing saying that I had a new roommate and he would be moving in the following day. At least his name was Jake. Even if he wasn't hot, he had a hot name. I had that to see me through until tomorrow, before the "unveiling". It was kinda sad knowing that this was to be my very last day as a guy with a private room, never again to have the generous privacy I had gotten to experience for a while.

Jake was probably straight, too, so no more phone sex or hot calls from guys I'd met online. And he might not even be a guy who's open about jackin' off. Damn, I started to feel more depressed. I tried to kick back and enjoy this last night to myself with a great movie and some comfort food, but I couldn't quite get it outta my mind that my "bachelor" days were coming to an end. It finally came---moving day. I was busy all day with classes and other obligations that night so I didn't get in until about 9. I opened the door of my room to find definite changes, suggesting my new roommate.

"Well, looks like Jake's already made himself at home," I said. Not only that, but he rearranged things---most notably, the beds. It didn't really bother me that much, it was just something I wasn't expecting. I was still taking it all in when I heard someone behind me.

"You must be my new roommate."

Well, I sure liked what I heard, which was a masculine baritone voice with a southern accent. I turned around to answer him and I had to steady myself so as not to let my jaw hit the floor. What stood in the doorway facing me was a virtual god on campus. I saw short blonde hair, green eyes, and a toned, slightly muscular hot body. He was kinda hairy on his forearms and legs, but his body hair was light blonde, and hard to notice unless you really looked closely. It melded well with his sun-kissed tan.

Better yet, he had on a sleeveless shirt which really showed off his hairy man-pits. I wanted to gawk at him more but I knew that that would only make me obvious. After all, I wasn't quite ready to tell my new roommate, "Hey, I'm gay, and I'm totally fallin' for you."

"Y-yeah, and you must be-" I couldn't believe it. I was so taken aback and turned on that I actually couldn't remember his name.

"Jake," he said, as he stretched out his strong hand for me to shake. He had a nice, firm grip that made me wanna experience it more---and all over my body, at that. He was being nice enough but I detected an air of cockiness about him. Not in the arrogant way, but just that that's how he was, without realizing it. He was probably really confident and had been coveted by girls and guys all his life. And that sure didn't help to calm my hormones down at all. I knew that I couldn't screw up this first meeting or he'd think I was really weird. So I did my best to fully concentrate on just being social, not sexual---and damn was it hard.

"So, 'dya get all your stuff in?", I asked.

"Yeah, I think it's all here. Some of the guys from the team helped me move in earlier."

"Oh yeah? Whaddya play?" I inquired, particularly interested.

"I do track." Great. Not only was my roommate basically Apollo, but he did the sport most foot fetishists would love for men to be in. It was killing me that I couldn't yet gaze or at least glance at his feet, though. I went to put backpack over by my bed, which was the biggest change in the room. They were at a right angle, meeting at the near foreground right corner so that my bed was against the wall where the door was, and his was against the far side wall. But instead of the corners actually meeting, one end of my bed was pushed all the way against his wall, so that end was in view of his bed. Mine had been moved that way to make room for his computer by the door.

"Yeah, I hope ya don't mind about the beds," he said as I put my stuff down. "We moved 'em around to make more room for my stuff. It works better this way."

"No, that's okay. I don't really care." And really, I didn't. After all, I wouldn't mind sleepin' close to an incredibly hot college athlete. I figured most gay guys wouldn't. As he then went about the room putting more stuff away and putting the finishing touches to his stuff, I finally got an opportunity to really check out my live-in eye candy. He was about 5'11", which was short to my 6'6". It's a good thing I was right next to my bed when my eyes shot down to his feet---this time my jaw did drop, and I involuntarily fell on my bed in a sitting position. This guy was, like, 7 inches shorter than me---more than half a foot---and his feet were actually bigger than mine---huge! Of course I was dying to ask him his shoe size, and of course I couldn't. I didn't know if he'd think I was making fun of his feet or if he might wonder if I liked guys' feet if I was too obvious, or what. It was what I most wanted to do but I simply had to hold off. Unfortunately, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful---he hung out with some of his track buddies somewhere else, and I was with some of my friends elsewhere. But God, if I couldn't wrap my mind around this studly cocky jock and his big guy feet.

I got back into the room at about 1 in the morning and Jake was there. The windows were open (we had been with a heat wave the day before, and it was still in the 80s at night), the lights were on, and there was Jake sitting in his leather recliner in the middle of the room, facing the TV on the left wall. He was watching a sports channel, which I'm not into (just the hunky players, not the games). I had to really steady myself when I saw him. The chair was reclined out from the bottom---he kept the back of it up so he was still in a sitting position. His legs were stretched out on the foot piece with his great big feet crossed at the ankles, right over left---and bare.

He also had his hands relaxed behind his head, with his elbows sticking out on either side and his sweaty armpits exposed. I could see trickles of masculine sweat dripping from his damp blonde pit hair and running down his smooth, vulnerable sides. His feet were sweaty too, as I could see the sweat glistening in the light on his enormously long soles. He was really into his sports show, whatever it was. While gazing at his open college sexuality I simultaneously noticed a lingering odor in the air. It smelled better than any aroma I had ever taken in before, and I instantly fell in love---and started to get hard. I didn't know what it was, but I sure wanted to bottle it and keep it. I took in a deep inhale.

"MMMMmmmmm, man, what is that smell?!" I asked, filled with vigor. --> continue reading the story here