Stories like the ones in Solo Touch have a special meaning for me. When I first started in college I was a rigid and I guess you could say nerdy kid. My father had been very strict and I tried very hard to please him. I was terrified I was not going to get good grades, or otherwise not make it through college, and that I would be a failure in his eyes. One result was that I could not fall asleep at night and that really made things worse. But my roommate in the dorm, 'Rodney', looked even nerdier than me. Besides that, he had mannerisms that made me believe he was gay (it turns out he was). Being as immature as I was then, I didn't want to have anything to do with him for fear that I would be ostracized if he became my friend. We spoke very little for the first few weeks, mostly because I acted so cold and aloof. But Rodney couldn't help noticing my torment every night trying to fall asleep, and my frustration and rage at myself when I could not. I felt I owed him at least a little explanation since I know my behavior must have been waking him up. This was the first real conversation we had, and I felt good because he was very understanding and a good listener.
We got closer after that and even went out for dinner a few times and to see a concert once. One night when I was really miserable, I woke him up with my punching the pillow and cursing about 2 AM, not having fallen asleep. He turned on the light and asked if I wanted to talk a bit. In the conversation he told me casually that if he can't sleep it helps him to masturbate. Actually I already knew that he masturbated a lot, as I would hear him doing it in bed, and there was enough shadow in the darkened room for me to get some visual clues as well. Although I was 18 I had never masturbated! My father frequently warned me about it, and as I said I tried to please him. When the pressure built up to where I was actually aching I found-when I was about 16-that if I put a pillow between my legs and fell asleep that way I would usually come in my sleep, which relieved me, and which I did not consider masturbation. I had not done this since coming to college. Rodney was surprised that I did not masturbate. He asked me how I would get to sleep when I was very little. I told him my father would tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story.
He said let's try it-not the tucking, but the story. By then the conversation had got me to relax some, and I thought why not? I laid back down and Rodney got back into his own bed and turned off the light. He was a creative kid and told me a relaxing story about driving along the ocean. He talked about the sun and the waves splashing and the wind, and introduced a girl hitch hiking. It gradually became very erotic but very relaxed as well. I was very hard, as I often was at night, and this story got my penis pulsing with every heart beat. I rested my hand on it under my shorts, but was not masturbating in any way. I was very relaxed and sort of in a semi-state between sleep and wake. I could tell that Rodney had gotten out of his bed--still telling the story he was making up--and had walked over beside me. It was surprising but relaxing when he sat on the side of my bed. The story was getting more intensely erotic, and as he made up a part where the hitch hiker put her hand on my crotch, he put his own hand on my crotch.
Now my own hand was under his since I was holding my hard dick, so it didn't scare me. Then he started moving MY hand. It felt great and since it was my own hand not his I did not feel it was so bad. Within moments cum started rolling out but I was not having an orgasm! That caused such a sensation I had to start yanking myself to get the rest of it out, and I had what was up until then, the best feeling I ever had in my life. I see this is getting pretty long already so I will just let you know it did not help me sleep that night because I stayed up the rest of the night masturbating over and over. But as Rodney thought, it pretty much solved the problem of my chronic insomnia. Rodney told me another story almost every night at bedtime, and after that first night, he started the story while sitting on my bed, with the lights out. I knew after the first night where this would lead, and made up my mind to go with it. When the story became very erotic he would peel down my shorts and give my balls and dick a great workout. All I had to do was lay back and relax. It got to where I would get in bed naked early before he was ready to turn in, and say to him, 'Tell me a story.' I would even do that some rainy Sunday afternoons when we both should have been studying. He was totally obliging and I got over most of my embarrassment over being seen with him. He never asked for anything back from me, except he once asked if I would hug him which I did. The bedtime ritual kept up until summer when we each went home. Rodney changed colleges the next year and I moved off campus anyway. We wrote a few times afterwards, but have not seen each other since. I remember him, his stories, and that year very well and very warmly.