My roommate, Kent, was the best wingman I ever had. He was a good looking blonde to my brunette and even though I was in good shape at six foot and 185 pounds, he had a few inches on me with my same weight. Every female I knew asked me about him and I would have been jealous if he weren’t so gracious and such a cool guy. The thing is when he answered my ad for a roommate and moved in I quickly became aware of him being heartbroken over Robin who he had been with for three years.
I was a little shocked as Kent was so funny and outgoing and good looking that I figured his ex must be the hottest babe on the planet. I didn’t ask for pictures, I just let my mind run wild. Despite his breakup he seemed ready to get back into the game quickly and since I was single we became a perfect match. He knew about clubs I had never been to with women far hotter than the dives I hung out in. I quickly became self conscious which was not normal for me but Kent assured me that I fit right in. He even mentioned I was a hottie and should work it. Normally I’d smack a guy for that but I realized that through all the moaning and groaning of pussy under me, very few women ever told me I looked good even though they wanted my nine inches. One woman did say I looked good, like “Saint Germaine”, whoever that is but when I’m pounding away I don’t need to be thinking like a saint because I ain’t.
So bottom line I’d take a compliment from a guy over nothing. Besides Kent was a cool guy except for one thing – he was a Yankees fan. I hate the Yankees!!!!! There are two forms of torture I probably could never take: 1. being covered in honey while fire ants do their work and 2. being told the Yankees beat the Red Sox again. I wanted to hate the bastard for his taste in teams but he had a confidence that I lacked and due to his looks was what some call a babe magnet. Every club we went to I noticed more women than I could imagine coming up to us and the coolest thing about him was when they would do their mutual bathroom disappearing act and we would have to discuss which one we wanted, he always let me have the hot one.
So for our first three months as roommates our weekend routines were the same, going home with a couple of hotties. Normally we’d split up and got to their individual homes for the night but I have to admit I enjoyed the rare nights when we would bring the girls back to our place as the walls were paper thin and we could here each other going to town. I don’t know what Kent was doing in there but the screams were out of control no matter which woman he was in bed with. Both women would have multiple orgasms, probably playing off each other’s screams. As for me it was a guy thing, I refused to let go until Kent did. Now either the bastard was good at what he does or he was trying to outlast me but those nights next to Kent I lasted longer than I ever have in my life.
Knowing Kent could hear me I tried to hold back when I finally allowed myself to come but Kent either didn’t care to keep quiet or couldn’t as his grunts and groans were electric. They always seemed to get both women to shoot off one more time. Having sex in rooms next to each other could have been a weird thing but Kent was totally cool about it. Every morning after it was like nothing ever happened so we kept up the routine figuring why mess with what works. We never talked about it because we never had to.
Things subtly changed about three months into the roomie situation though when Kent went to town on himself on a weeknight. I guess he couldn’t wait for our weekend scoring. I went about my normal business until I realized he wasn’t a quick comer even when he was masturbating. I don’t know what he was doing but his breathing came in quickened gasps that first got my heartbeat pounding, followed by my dick.
