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After delaying me for so long, student housing at the University of Iowa finally found me a bed and a roommate. And, after meeting them both for the first time, I wanted to drop to my knees and thank the gods of housing for my fate. But dropping to my knees was also what I wanted to do for Tony, the hotest damn fucker I had ever seen.

As a high-school baseball jock who had seen, and been naked with, other jocks since I sprouted pubes, I had hairy-palmed knowledge of many amazing physiques. I knew how to publicly hide my feelings, while privately beating my meat raw. But with this All-American wrestler, the ultimate jock-stud, I didn't know if I could keep up my practiced front. In reality, keeping down my front, rather than keeping it up, was my biggest concern. "Up" happened, whether I wanted it to or not.

And meeting Tony seemed to be all about sex from the get-go. What an introduction I had that first day! Lying on his bed, Tony held an opened Penthouse magazine with his left hand, while the right rested tentatively on a muscled, hairy thigh. His every pore dripped maleness and sex. And what's more, he was panting. His breathing was fast, short and shallow. I had barged-in on a jack-off session!

Tony attempted to brush aside my interruption of his sacred ritual. He smiled bravely and nodded a greeting. But all I saw was a man-stud in the throes of sexual self-satisfaction sprawled before me. I'd never been so horny for anyone in my life. My senses sucked-in the sight and smell of sex-aroused sweat that glistened on Tony's perfectly-muscled wrestler's body. I felt like I just had a hit of poppers. My knees went weak, woozy with desire.

Tony was wearing nothing but tight, white jockeys which were half-pulled down, exposing a good inch of wiry, black pubes, and barely concealing his thick, bulging log beneath. One of his plum-sized balls dangled free from its cotton chamber, begging to be released of its juice.

I was afraid he knew my every thought and desire. How would I study? How would I keep my eyes off of him? How would I hide my lust when my boner betrayed me? But, in no time, we settled into a routine. I pretended to study and ignore my sex-cravings for Tony. He pretended not to notice and go about his business as usual.

For Tony, business as usual always included wearing nothing but jockeys in our room, and reading every copy of Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler he could get his hands on. Many nights, no more than five feet from Tony, I pretended to read my textbooks lying in my bed, all the while stealing glimpses of the almost naked, man-stud beside me--the perfect speciman of all things masculine I watched as his cock would swell, aroused by the magazine images of wet-split beaver and over-sized tits that hypnotized him. His bulging cockhead would pop out for me to admire. Often I could see a few drops, then a steady flow, of clear, syrupy pre-cum oozing seductively from the tip of Tony's beautiful beer-can cock. The more the pictures of pussy turned him on, the bigger the wet spot became in his shorts.

Typically he jacked-off only when the lights were out or I wasn't in. But he wasn't at all shy about letting me see his goods. Once Tony even offered to share his mags with me and suggested we read them together. But that freaked me out. If he knew the truth, knew how much I lusted after him, how much I wanted to lick his pits, sniff and nuzzle those sperm-engorged balls, wrap my lips around that thick, veiny wrestler's cock and suck every last drop of life out of him, he'd be furious. He might even get me thrown out of the dorm. I had to hide the truth. So I told him "no thanks," I wanted to study.

One day when Tony was at wrestling practice, I noticed the pile of dirty laundry near his bed and got an idea. Confident that he wouldn't return for at least an hour, I began to go through his clothes and in no time came across some of those lucky jockey shorts that carressed and nuzzled his cock and balls daily. I put the dirty shorts to my face and took a deep whiff. Aaaaaaah! Instantly, I spermed my pants. It was the most intense, ball-draining, pleasurable cum-load I ever shot in my life.

So this became my regular, secret release. Whenever Tony was out of the dorm, I went through his laundry. I sniffed and licked the yellow-stained pits of his t-shirts and underwear. I rubbed my face on the inside of his jeans and gym shorts. I savored every inch of his tight, wrestling jersey==searching it for spit or sweat stains which belonged to him or his opponent.

But his worn jocks and jockeys were the real prize. At first I just sniffed them until their smell was gone. But soon I looked for hardened, crusty spots that I knew were Tony's dried pre-cum or maybe even sperm. I licked those crusty spots until they were no more. I went after yellow piss stains, too. If I was truly lucky, I'd come across a few pubic hairs. I'd keep the little treasures in my mouth and roll them around my tongue. Then I swallowed them down. I even began checking Tony's jockeys for the occasional little brown skid mark. If I found one, I'd lick and lick the cotton until the mark was gone. I loved the taste of every bit of him. I couldn't get enough.

However, one day I found something completely unexpected. There, amid Tony's dirty laundry, was a wet, gooey, wad of latex. I studied it closely. At first I was puzzled, then it hit me. It was a used condom--one of Tony's! Without hesitation, I popped it in my mouth and began to chew. The cum from my wrestler-jock's balls in his used rubber was delicious. I chewed and chewed, and when I was sure I had gotten all of the juice out, I removed what was left of the latex from my mouth. I was in cocksucker heaven.

Just then, the door opened. Tony had returned! My wrestler jock roommate caught me smack in the middle of the dirtiest of my dirty deeds.

(to be continued)

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