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(please paste first part here with no break so that it forms one continuous story)
A couple of years ago, I had to spend three months as a junior doctor in
Southampton General Hospital as part of my medical training. This meant that,
because of the long hours and irregular shifts, I had to move into the cramped
student accommodation located at the back of the hospital.
I ended up sharing a room with another medic called Peter. I must admit that I'm
not too keen on sharing, but some of my mates ended up in rooms with two or even
three other guys, so I guess that I was actually pretty lucky to end up as I
did.
While Peter and I wouldn't ever have been natural friends, he was a decent guy
and we got along reasonably well as imposed roommates for the couple of months
of my stay. He tended to use the room entirely for the bed and the wardrobe:
when he wasn't sleeping or changing clothes, he was out. He played a lot of
rugby and I gather he spent most of his free time either on the rugby pitch or
in the pub with his mates. So the temporary loss of my privacy wasn't such a
blow.
One thing that was pretty clear from the start, though, was that Peter saw the
room very much as venue for masturbation, regardless of whether I was in it or
not. He made no secret and no excuses about that. In fact, he made no references
to it all: he would just habitually masturbate, without shame or embarrassment,
before he went to sleep or when he woke up. Neither of us ever said anything
about it; it was just something he did.
Even though our shifts only occasionally coincided and so he often was at work
when I was sleeping, I soon became familiar with his routine. He was very much a
lad of habit and rarely ventured from his established pattern. If he was pissed,
he'd usually just go straight to sleep and have a wank when he awoke. If he came
in straight from work, he'd usually pull himself off before sleeping and make do
with just a coffee when he got up. But if he was talking to his girlfriend on
the phone before bed, he'd usually have a wank both before sleeping and when he
woke up.
One weekend his girlfriend came down from Birmingham, where she was working, to
stay over with him. I was kind of interested to see how that would affect his
routine but decided I really ought to give him a bit of privacy and so spent
that weekend staying with Helen, my girlfriend, even though it meant an hour's
trek across the city before and after every shift at the hospital.
I remember being kind of surprised when I first saw Peter wanking. It must have
been on the second or third day of my stay in the hospital accommodation, and
I'd just returned from a fairly rigorous fourteen-hour Friday night shift on A &
E. It think it was about seven in the morning and, as I was getting into the
bed, feeling shattered, Peter's alarm went off: his shift was about to start.
I got into bed and tried to relax despite the lingering affects of the caffeine
and adrenaline I'd been living on throughout most of the night. I turned away
from his bed, towards the pock-marked wall, with a pillow over my head to try
and block out the increasing brightness coming in through the curtains as the
sun rose in the sky. I expected to hear Peter get up and leave the room to make
coffee and use the bathroom or whatever, but he stayed in bed, apparently in no
rush to get up for work.
I guess I left him ten minutes or so, thinking that he was maybe dozing or had
pressed the snooze button on his alarm clock. Then I figured he'd gone back to
sleep and so turned over to face him, intending to call over to him and wake him
up.
I found, as you've probably anticipated, that he was in full swing. He'd pushed
the duvet aside, and was lying there, totally naked, masturbating his foreskin
up and down his fairly impressive looking cock, totally devoid of
self-consciousness.
At first I felt pretty surprised, maybe even a little embarrassed. I should say
that I'm no prude - I went to a boys' boarding school and so masturbating with
another guy in the room is hardly new to me - but I guess I was taken aback by
the sheer candour of the guy. If I was going to have a wank while sharing a
room, I'd do it under the covers, as quietly and discretely as possible; or,
more likely, would wait until I was in the toilet or taking a shower. Not so
Peter: he just kicked the duvet to one side and jerked away at his dick as
openly and unworried as if he were stretching or scratching himself.
I felt an immediate instinct to look away: to leave him to get on with it
without a spectator. But then I noticed that his eyes were closed. In any case,
it occurred to me that, as he'd obviously heard me moving about in the room
after his alarm had gone off, my presence was clearly irrelevant to him.
So I took the opportunity of watching him for a while. Out of curiosity, you
know.
His bed was on the opposite wall to mine and so I was looking at the length of
his body from his left side.
He was well-built, reasonably muscular guy and his chest and legs were covered
fairly thickly with black hair. His feet, like mine, protruded from the end of
the mattress and so I'd guess he was slightly over six feet tall. His expression
was serious and his rhythm was moderately fast: he was obviously intent on
reaching his orgasm fairly quickly and without any unnecessary delay. In fact, I
think the idea of a guy savouring his masturbatory pleasures was pretty unknown
to Peter.
He just lay there for a couple of minutes: his hand doing its thing on his cock,
his face expressionless and his breathing apparently normal. Looking like he was
just doing it for the sake of it: almost like it was a chore he was attending
to.
Masturbation as a bodily function: that's what it looked like.
I took a good look at his cock. It was large - about seven inches or so - and
fairly thick. His foreskin made a slap-slap-slapping sound as he jerked it up
and down his length. His bell-end wasn't especially defined - it was about the
same thickness as the shaft of his cock and seemed to blend in with it, instead
of being bulbous and clearly separated like a mushroom head as mine is. His
balls were large and, like the base of his cock and the lower part of his
stomach, densely forested by a tangle of wiry black pubic hair.
I noticed that his bell-end remained fairly dry as he masturbated, as mine does.
There was a crude joke back then that my mates used to say about their cocks
"dripping" when they saw an attractive girl, and for a while I'd wondered if my
cock was somehow odd because it leaked so little precum it was hard. But Peter's
looked pretty similar and it was kind of reassuring to see that.
The smell of his cock was subtle yet unmistakable in the warm air of the room.
It was the familiar smell of male excitement: as sharp and distinctive as the
smells from girls and women when they get horny. I find the smells from females
during sex an overpowering turn-on, and here the smell of Peter's male
equivalent made me feel equally aroused. I felt my own cock stiffening rapidly
in my briefs.
I rubbed myself discretely under my duvet as I watched him. The sight, smell and
sounds of his cock were really turning me on.
I was surprised that he didn't use his other hand to caress his body, as I do
when I masturbate. I fondle my balls, play with my nipples, rub my stomach,
sometimes even play around with my arsehole a little. But Peter just wanked
himself with his right hand and his left hand lay motionless at his side. I
considered that it might be because he was aware I was watching him, but, like I
said, he seemed so disinterested by my presence that I don't think it would have
affected his performance one way or the other. I guess that it was just his way
of masturbating: relieving himself in a workmanlike and mechanical way.
He started breathing very quickly about ten seconds before he came. That also
turned out to be part of the established routine. His strokes then became very
rapid as he headed into his orgasm. With his free hand, he grabbed his discarded
briefs which I guess were lying amongst the bedding at his side, and, as his
cock started squirting, he cupped them over the top of his cock to catch his
semen.
He kept gasping as he milked his cock into his underwear. His orgasm was fairly
copious: some of his cum dribbled from his briefs and leaked onto his stomach.
After his climax had subsided, he just lay there for half a minute or so, still
holding his cock with his right hand and his briefs over the head of it with the
other, recovering his breath. The strong smell of his cum, thick and
mildly-cloying, filled the air.
Then he threw his sticky briefs to one side and got up. I closed my eyes,
pretending to sleep.
After he'd gone for a shower, I pulled off my briefs and masturbated my own cock
underneath the duvet. I was really turned on by what I'd just seen and relieved
myself urgently and breathlessly. I squirted into my dirty briefs, as he had
done, and then threw them onto floor next to my bed.
Then, aware that the room now smelt even more strongly of semen, I fell almost
immediately into a deep sleep.
******
I watched Peter masturbate a few times over the next week or so. Like I said, I
soon got the hang of his habits and my presence or absence in the room didn't
seem to matter to him. Sometimes, when we were working the same shift, our
alarms would go off together and I'd get out of bed, starting to get ready, with
Peter masturbating openly as I did so.
He seemed totally comfortable about doing it, and never talked of it nor made
any references to it either while he was doing it or at other times. He
mentioned that he had four brothers and so I guess his attitude came from years
of sharing a bedroom at home.
I always became hard when he started wanking and would initially attend to my
arousal either in bed after he'd left the room or in the toilet or shower behind
a locked door.
But then, during the second week, I thought about joining in with him.
I kept wondering, over a few days, how he'd react to having me masturbate
alongside him. I thought it most likely that he'd just ignore me but kept
worrying whether, as an unquestionably straight guy, he'd view it as being "gay"
behaviour. He obviously regarded masturbation as being just something guys do,
not even worthy of comment, but maybe the etiquette of masturbating while
sharing a room is to do it separately, waiting your turn.
One day at the hospital while mulling over someone's medical records, I found
myself thinking about it again and realised that I was starting to become
fascinated by the idea of joining in with him.
I thought about the two of us jerking our cocks together; just lying in our
beds, without any discussion, relieving ourselves in unison. I became aware that
I was smiling and that one of the nurses was staring at me. The records were
spelling out the details of some hideous illness and here I was smirking over
them like a Cheshire cat. Jesus, get a grip, Wallace.
That night he was out with his mates and came back at about midnight, stinking
of alcohol.
I was lying awake when he returned, knowing that he wouldn't masturbate since
he'd been out, but nevertheless hoping he would. Even before he'd closed the
door and took off his coat, my cock was stiff as a board in anticipation that he
might.
But he didn't.
Next morning, though, his alarm went off first, and, as I expected, he switched
it off and got to work on his dick almost immediately. He pushed the duvet to
one side and then, in one swift movement, pulled down his briefs and threw them
to the side.
His cock was already hard, its seven inches throbbing and demanding attention.
He lay back down and, closing his eyes, wrapped his fist around it immediately,
gratifying it with a moderately fast rhythm.
I was watching him, waiting for my alarm to go off.
After a minute or so, it did, and I turned it off. He didn't miss a beat: he
just lay there, eyes closed, now undeniably aware I was awake, but quite happy
to relieve himself in my presence.
I lay back down and pushed my duvet to the side of me. My cock was already hard
and I released it from my briefs, pulling them off with one hand without getting
up.
Then I took my cock, about an inch longer than his, in my fingers and started
gently and slowly masturbating myself, relishing the sensation of doing it in
front of Peter. I deliberately made my wrist slap rhythmically against my hip as
I did it, so that he would be aware that I was joining him.
He looked over at me almost immediately. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.
His hand didn't stop wanking his cock, he just looked over at me to see what I
was doing.
I just kept working at myself, peeling my foreskin right back so he could see my
large, swollen bell-end and then rolling it back over the head, slowly but with
a confident, regular rhythm.
He kept watching me and that made me feel more excited; made my cock swell
harder in my hand. His own hand kept doing its thing, its rhythm up and down his
cock totally unaffected by what I was doing, but he kept on staring at me,
watching my cock.
Maybe it was the first time he'd seen another guy masturbate - or, at least,
seen a guy outside his family do his thing, assuming my theory about him and his
brothers was true. I guess it could even have been the first time he saw another
guy's erect cock. Whatever, he seemed totally fascinated by what I was doing and
kept looking at it for a minute or so as I played with it in front of him.
Then, as my rhythm increased and my excitement grew, I looked over at him,
checking out his cock first and then looking up at his face. We made eye contact
and, as we stared at each other's faces and continued masturbating ourselves, he
betrayed a small grin and sort of shrugged. Like he was trying to say, "When you
gotta go...".
I looked back down at his cock and was aware that he did the same to mine. I
watched his hand sliding up and down its length, its rhythm a little faster than
that which he normally liked to maintain. My rhythm was a lot faster than his,
but that could have been because I don't usually masturbate as much of my cock
with each stroke as he did. I guess I usually pump only the top half of my dick
whereas he seemed to rub most of the length of his, making long sweeping motions
with each stroke.
We just lay there for a while, masturbating together, in silence. Both of us
continually looking down at our own cocks and then over at each other's; both of
us being fairly mechanical in our actions. Like this was just something guys
did; just two roommates relieving ourselves before getting up for work.
The casual manner with which we masturbated together on that first morning
really turned me on. It was like semen release was simply a biological necessity
that we were both attending to: two guys impassively pumping their cocks with
the same disinterest that they'd show if they were urinating alongside each
other.
But towards the end, as my climax approached, I couldn't help but break my own
mental image and reached out to caress my balls with my other hand. My right
hand just wasn't enough: my left really needed to get involved.
Then I broke the silence by gasping in pleasure, and my right hand sped up on my
dick, becoming almost a blur as I felt my orgasm beginning to consume me.
Peter stared over at me, no doubt fascinated to see another guy in this state.
I grabbed my discarded briefs and managed to catch all but the first few squirts
of my white cum with them. Peter kept staring; watching the liquid spurting in
short brief bursts from my fat purple cock head into the white material of my
underpants. Even when it had subsided into a thin, weak dribble, he kept
looking.
Now the smell of my semen filled the air of the room.
When I'd recovered, I stood up. Peter was still looking at me and still
masturbating, the head of his cock looking a deep angry purple colour from the
friction of his foreskin.
I walked over to my alarm clock and reset the alarm. My cock stood out in front
of me at almost a right angle to my body: still hard, but not hard enough to
curve upwards. I noticed that a thin string of my cum hung from my piss slit on
the broad purple bell-end.
Peter kept looking at it and then, as I turned my arse to him and walked over to
pick up my towel, he started breathing quickly and I realised he was cumming.
He spent a few seconds squirting his own sperm into his underwear, staring at
the white jets as they shot in spasms from his cock.
Then, bleary-eyed, he looked up at me watching him.
I said, "I'll get a shower first, then, mate."
He nodded, still breathing quickly. And then I left the room.
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