College Memories With Justin

This took place in the early 2000s during my second year of college and although it isn’t as outrageously hot and steamy as other stories here, it is a true recollection of events. It’s a slow buildup but 100% true.

Growing up, I’d been an early bloomer. My dad had 6 brothers (!), and he in turn fathered 5 kids. Clearly, there was some kind of horny/libido gene that was being passed down the male line of my family tree, which I’d also inherited, because I've jacked off more than you can imagine.

Basically, I became a horny fucker, with masturbation being my major sexual outlet. And boy did I jack off a lot, with my record being 8 times in one day. In particular, I was fascinated by cum, recognizing it as the liquid essence of a man and the product of his pleasure, and I loved depictions of semen in the various kinds of porn I perused back then, especially the look of absolute pleasure on guys’ faces as they ejaculated, and the aftermath of cum splattered over themselves and/or their partners. Semen was the embodiment of pleasure, and I was endlessly fascinated by it, always horny and needing to ejaculate regularly.

I had a JO buddy who was my neighbor, and I had some fun times with a different neighbor and a cousin, but I’ll skip those for now.

Freshman year of college was forgettable. I had 2 roommates, and all three of us were crammed into a tiny little dorm room. One roommate later dropped out halfway through the school year, and my remaining roommate was a great guy and we were good friends, but he didn’t strike me as the horny type, and I sensed that he wasn’t as into masturbation as I was (or at least he was very secretive about it), so I restricted my JO sessions to times I knew he was in class or I was showering in one of the stalls in the dorm’s communal bathroom. And we didn’t really talk about masturbation except in bland jokes.

At the time, student housing was scarce, so while freshmen had the option to live in the dorms, all other years had to live in off-campus apartments, unless they volunteered to RA for the next incoming freshmen.  So there was some churn in choosing roommates for sophomore year, and my freshman roomie opted to live in an apartment with some other friends.

I ended up with two guys who I wasn’t as close with but were still on good terms with. One of them was named Hank and was in the same hall as me, and the other was named Justin and lived in the adjoining hall. Although we weren’t close initially, I knew that we had the potential to be good friends, but of course, there would be a period where we’d have to get to know each other as roommates first.

Hank and Justin were different from my freshman year roommates in that although they were decent students, they weren’t necessarily great students, and their grades were just okay. They were also more athletic, and I got the sense that they were also more street-smart than my first roommates. Hank was tall and liked to run. His two other roommates during freshman year were only acquaintances to me, and they were strong and muscled and liked to play intramural football. His two roommates were so muscled, in fact, that I found it comical to picture them trying to squeeze into the tiny dorm room they’ve been given.

Whereas Hank was tall and lanky, Justin was stockier and around my same height. Justin was also more muscled and in better shape than me in general. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and his dad was a lifelong Marine, so Justin grew up on the outskirts of a Marine base in the desert, having only moved to go to college. Justin had a direct, down-to-earth demeanor that he must’ve picked up from his dad.

I got an inkling early on that my new roommates were rather horny guys. During the summer break, we were touring a potential apartment (which would eventually become the apartment we chose), and the tour was being conducted by a rather perky girl. Being new and inexperienced, having never rented an apartment before, we asked her to explain the application process, and she said that if we wanted to secure our spot, each of us on the lease would need to give a deposit. After the tour concluded and she left, we were discussing if this was the apartment we wanted, and Justin quipped, “Oh, she’s gonna get my deposit, alright. I’m gonna give her a protein shake.” I’d never heard of cum referred to that way before, and I found it genuinely funny, and all three of us laughed.

Because we were poor college students, the three of us ended up in a 2-bedroom apartment with 1 bathroom, which we all had to share. Hank was okay with paying a slightly higher portion of rent in order to have one room to himself, while Justin and I agreed to share the remaining bedroom. Although the apartment was quite small, it was a huge upgrade from the dorms. We even had a living room and kitchen, which we considered to be a major plus. At the end of summer, we moved our stuff in: beds, TV, couch, dinner table, chairs, all the usual. Justin and I placed our respective beds and computer desks on opposite ends of our room, and we settled in to start the school year.

One day, I was hanging out in Hank’s room, sitting in his study chair in front of his desk, while he was just idly laying in bed, and we were just chatting. I noticed he had a stash of Penthouses on his bookcase, about 8 or so issues. He wasn’t trying to hide the porn mags, but he wasn’t flaunting them either. They were just sorta there, like any other book or magazine.

“Oh nice,” I said, “you brought some mags.”

I picked one up and flipped through it casually, enjoying the pictures of cocks plowing pussies and pussies being spread. I was kinda hoping to find pages that were crinkled or stuck together, which me and my other friends liked to rib each other about, but unfortunately the pages were otherwise clean, so it looks like Hank wasn’t the type of person to shoot on the merchandise, so to speak.

Hank didn’t seem to mind me perusing his porn stash, and after a few minutes of this, while continuing to lay in bed and sensing that I was enjoying the porn, he said, “You know, I masturbated when I was high.”

I looked over. He mentioned it as casually as commenting on the weather, so I decided to keep it casual as well. “Oh yeah? What were you on?”

“Just pot.”

“Nice.” And wanting to see how open he was about talking about this stuff, I followed up with, “How was it?”

He grinned. “It was amazing.”

He didn’t elaborate beyond that, and I didn’t want to push our first conversation on the topic too far, even though I was keen to learn more. I admitted, “I wish I had porn mags.” Which was true. I’d always browsed the internet for porn but had no actual magazines, since they were easier for my parents to spot back when I lived at home, and I didn’t want to risk it.

Hank gestured towards his mags, “If you need it, use it. You know where to find them.”

Although this conversation was making me horny as fuck, I didn’t get the sense that Hank was inviting me to jack off right now and was merely talking about a future hypothetical, so I kept things casual and replied, “Thanks. I will.”

Nothing more came from that simple exchange that day, but I learned some things. Hank was a horny dude just like me, and he was open to talking about masturbation. I’d also learned that he was a pothead. And I had an open invitation to use his porn stash if I felt the urge.

As for Justin, the guy I’d been sharing a bedroom with, we were a study in contrasts. Justin loved to work out, and I wouldn’t start weightlifting until the next year, so I was rather lanky at the time. While lounging around in the apartment, Justin frequently opted to go shirtless, and usually wore blue or black basketball shorts. He also slept shirtless as well. I, on the other hand, was more modest and opted to wear shirts and shorts at all times.

One day, we were on our computers at our respective desks. I must’ve been finishing up a game of Starcraft or Diablo, cuz I ambled over to Justin’s desk to see what he was up to. He was on his computer working on some homework, and when he switched to the desktop, I saw that he had a folder on his desktop that said “PORN” in all caps.

“Is that actually porn?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. He didn’t click on the folder or show me its contents, but I believed him.

“That’s cool,” I said. “On my computer, I hide my porn.” Back then, internet speeds were still rather slow, and video streaming wasn’t even a thing, so the porn on my computer was locally stored after it was downloaded, just hidden in a discreet folder.

Justin said, “Ehh, my parents didn’t care. My mom gave me my first nudie mag when I was eighteen.”

“Whoah.” I was genuinely shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. My mom and dad had me when they were young, and my mom said, ‘I don’t want you to get a girl pregnant, so here’s a magazine instead.’”

Over the course of the conversation, I learned that Justin’s mom was some sort of stripper or bartender who lived outside the base, and his dad, being a young Marine, knocked her up, and they’ve been married ever since. Basically, his dad was a horndog, and his mom was well-versed in what testosterone-fueled guys needed to blow off steam, hence the mag.

So, within the first month, I learned that both my roommates were just as horny as me and pretty open about it, which was really cool. But like any new situation, it was still unknown to me how far they were willing to indulge, so I kept things slow and casual and let things unfold naturally.

Before I get to the fun parts of my recollection, I’d like to share some vignettes and snippets from memory.

The three of us roomies were eating at the dinner table one night, and the topic (I don’t remember how) turned to whether we were virgins. I found out that Justin and I were not, but Hank was still a virgin. No other details were mentioned other than how old we were when we lost our virginity. Ironically, Hank was dating someone currently (a fellow sophomore from our school), but things hadn’t gotten serious yet, whereas Justin and I were single. (Eventually Hank would make up for lost time. In the coming months he’d bring his girlfriend over, and Justin and I would frequently hear them fucking.)

A different night, Hank had two of his pothead friends over, fellow students who I was also acquainted with, and they were smoking and chatting. I was in my room studying for a test, and as I got out to get a snack from the kitchen, I could overhear parts of their conversation, and they were talking about masturbation, specifically if they ever got caught. The summary I gathered was that none of them got caught, but Hank did catch one of his old roommates in the act. I was reaching into the fridge, and without turning my head and making it look obvious, I overheard Hank say, “Pretty sure I heard Connor beating off at his computer one night." (Connor was one of his two muscled football roommates from the dorm days). "I don’t think Connor knew I was awake, so I had to pretend I was asleep so he wouldn’t freak out.” [Hank couldn’t have seen anything back then though, merely overheard the act, because our dorm rooms were arranged such that 2 of the 3 beds were up a ladder in a loft, while the third bed and Connor’s computer desk was down the ladder, out of sight.]

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JUSTIN

Remember that “Never Let Go” scene in Scary Movie 2 where Buddy and Cindy are trapped in a freezer, and Cindy gives Buddy a handjob to keep him warm until he blasts her with an outrageous amount of cum? At the time, the movie had recently been released, and Justin and I were talking about that scene while hanging out in the living room. Justin took weightlifting very seriously and was consuming lots of protein powder. Recalling his earlier quip about “giving a protein shake,” I joked that if he was ever in that situation, he would lose A LOT of protein. Justin laughed and said, “At the rate at which I spooge, that’s exactly what’ll happen.” Perplexed, I asked, “What do you mean?” Justin replied, “I rarely spooge. I don’t masturbate, so it only happens to me when I have a wet dream, and when it happens, it feels like the movie.” I was floored by his statement, and in my head I was skeptical and incredulous that any guy could resist jacking off. Unwilling to insult him by calling him a liar, I redirected the conversation. In what was a first for me with either roommate, I openly admitted to masturbating by saying, “Oh man, I don’t think I can do that. I need to jack off every day.” Justin said, “That’s cool. Most guys do.”

After his admission and claim of abstinence, Justin became my obsession, and I needed to learn more about this freak of nature who claimed to not masturbate despite clearly being consumed by raging hormones, same as me. I made it my mission to get him to jack off.

Another thing I learned about Justin was that not only was he open about porn, he was also open about talking about sex in group conversations. I remember one time a group of us friends were in the cafeteria, and one of our friends looked to be enjoying his meal so much that Justin quipped, “That food’s so good, looks like Kev is having an orgasm.” Then Justin pantomimed the act of orgasming, holding his body rigid with his mouth hanging open, which made the whole group laugh. He casually mentioned “orgasm” at various other conversations in the weeks and months after this, but I don’t recall the exact context anymore, only that he seemed to enjoy using the word.

One last relevant snippet happened when we were at our respective computers one day, and I looked over at Justin’s computer, and this time, I saw that he had the PORN folder open. He was idly browsing through it, and I could see various pics of guys fucking girls, cocks in pussies, etc. Based on Justin’s statement that he doesn’t jack off, I didn’t hold up any hope that he’d beat his meat now. He also didn’t seem to care that I could see him looking at porn. To him, it was as normal and open as reading a book. What caught my eye, however, was a cartoon image of an erect penis so large that it was being gripped by two hands, and from the angle of both hands, I could tell that it was the dick’s owner gripping his own cock.

Intrigued, I asked, “What’s that?”

Justin answered, “Jelqing.”

“You mean jerking.”

“No. Jelqing.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a way to make your dick bigger.” Without any hint of self-consciousness and as casually as if he were discussing the news, Justin flipped to the next few images that showed the technique. The cartoons basically depicted a cock being stroked in the same direction each time, with the aim of the strokes to stretch and elongate the penis.

I wanted to ask Justin if he does that, but held my tongue for fear that it would insult him, implying that he was undersized. I simply said, “That’s cool.” I appreciated the fact that by at least telling me about it, Justin trusted me enough as a roommate to at least admit that he wasn’t satisfied with his size, whatever that happened to be. In hindsight, it was a touching moment of closeness and vulnerability.

I went back to my desk and continued to study (we were college students after all, and studying was the point of the whole endeavor haha).

Days or weeks later, a big breakthrough occurred one night while Justin and I were laying in our respective beds, getting ready to sleep. Hank had his girlfriend over and they were in his room, and music was playing. Neither of us could really sleep because the music could be heard through the walls, and both of us were pretty sure that Hank and his girlfriend were getting frisky, or about to be, so we just stayed up chatting. Neither of us mentioned it, but I’m pretty sure we were both hoping to eavesdrop on any moans or sounds of lovemaking coming from Hank’s room.

As we lay in bed, our conversation turned to the first time we got laid, talking about the details this time. I told Justin how my first time having sex was basically a quickie in a friend’s bathroom, and how the girl who seduced me did it by basically asking if I wanted to know how a condom worked, and she conveniently happened to have one with her (it’s silly but true).

Justin’s experience was more involved but hotter. He was hanging out with three friends, two of them were girls, and the other friend was his wrestling teammate. All four of them were in one of the girl’s houses, and they got into some horny shenanigans that involved strip poker. Mind you, this was in a small town on the outskirts of a Marine base in the middle of the desert, so I guess teenagers out there were especially bored and horny.

Laying in our beds in the dark, Justin recalled his experience. “We got naked, and the girl wanted my dick, and the other girl wanted Zack’s [his teammate’s] dick. Unfortunately, I got to see Zack naked, but oh well. Before we started, I was so nervous that I had to go to the bathroom to jerk off just so I could get my dick hard enough to get the rubber on. It took me a while, but I eventually got it on. My girl took me to her room, and the other girl took Zack to another room. She told me to just lay down and let her do all the work.” In the darkness, I saw him gesture with his arms over his hips, as if he were holding someone riding him cowgirl style, and I got the picture. “She slowly lifted herself down, and I watched as her pussy swallowed my dick, and she started riding it. She knew what she was doing, and when I was about to cum, I closed my eyes to focus on the sensation. She said I came so hard that I bucked my hips and lifted her a foot off the bed. After this, Zack and I switched girls. I did the other girl doggy style, and this time I focused on maximizing my pleasure.” [These were his exact words, and it still gets me horny to this day.]

His narration ended, and all I could say was, “Wow.” We quieted down for a bit, opting to listen to Hank’s room for any telltale sounds of sex, but none were forthcoming. Maybe Hank and his girlfriend really were just listening to music.

Finally, I broached what I really was dying to know. “So you really don’t masturbate?”

Justin said, “Nah.”

“How come?”

“My coach told us we needed to abstain before matches, or we’ll get weak. And I kinda believe him. Plus, wet dreams are so much better.”

My ears and imagination perked up. Now this was a new avenue worth exploring, I thought.

I offered, “I’ve only ever had two wet dreams.” Which was true. Wet dreams were a rarity for me, given how often I jerk off. “How often do you get them?”

“About every two weeks,” Justin replied.

And choosing my words for maximum horniness, I asked, “What does it feel like? Do you wake up right as you’re ejaculating?”

Justin gave it some thought before answering, “It feels a lot like sex. And I wake up afterward, when my pants are soaked.”

I was hard as fuck by now and leaking pre-cum, but I didn’t make a move. And neither did Justin. (If this were fiction, this would be the part where he and I both whip out our dicks and we start jacking off, but alas, this is not what really happened.) Justin’s last statement hung in the air, and I was too nervous to initiate, and from the looks of things, Justin was staying true to his claim of not masturbating. We both eventually fell asleep, despite the music coming from Hank’s room. And, no, we did not hear Hank or his girlfriend fucking that night.

As I drifted off to sleep, I noted a few things. Although Justin mentioned some dismay at seeing a fellow guy naked, he didn’t seem to find the idea entirely revolting, because if he did, surely he would’ve omitted that detail. Second, he’s a pleasure-seeking guy, as evinced by what he said about the second girl. And third, he clearly enjoys cumming, but the reason he doesn’t masturbate is simply because he prefers the quality of orgasms given to him by wet dreams. Lastly, based on Justin’s research on jelqing, it seemed like he has an interest in male improvement and wouldn’t mind trying out things to enlarge his penis or intensify his orgasms. I had the beginning of a plan.

I’ve already mentioned that I love to masturbate and relish the act of ejaculation (what male doesn’t?). One of my interests was researching various ways to increase semen volume. A couple of the studies I’d read pointed to L-Arginine being beneficial to increasing ejaculation volume and intensity, with soy being a major source of the amino acid.

So, being the horny college student that I was, I decided to embark on a science experiment to see if this was true. I bought a bunch of cartons of soy milk during one of our roomie grocery shopping trips, when we’d pile into Hank’s car and all go shopping together, since Hank was the only one of us three who had a car. I didn’t make a big deal about why I had bought so much soy milk, and neither roommate asked about it.

My plan was to drink a bunch of soy milk over the course of several weeks, only masturbating every 3 days (which was tough, since I loved to jack off), but I had to stick to a set, repeatable schedule to ensure that any variations in cum volume were caused solely by L-arginine and not due to variations in masturbation frequency. Based on my research, 3 days was the minimum amount of time needed to ensure that the prostate and seminal vesicles were full, and also happened to be the same amount of time sperm donors are asked to abstain before giving a sample. I still had to measure semen volume whenever I ejaculated, and although a graduated cylinder would be the most precise way to do it, it was too obvious and expensive, so I settled for a perfectly clear plastic cup. My plan was to use a fine-tip marker to mark whatever level of cum I pumped out, tracking my progress visually the same way I used to track my height changes while growing up. I stashed the cup in the bottom cabinet of our shared bathroom, and if I ever was asked about it, I would say that I used it for mouthwash.

I was on this program for maybe a month at this point. I was on Day 2 of my periodic abstinence, and I was already horny. So horny, in fact, that I decided to finally let Justin in on my experiment. He and I were the only ones in the apartment at the time, and remembering his interest in jelqing, I casually mentioned, “I read a study that said soy milk can help make your orgasms more intense.”

He looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Soy milk contains L-arginine, and if you drink a lot of it, it can increase the amount of semen you produce. And the more semen you ejaculate, the more intense the orgasm.” This is such an odd thing to say to someone out of the blue, but based on what I now knew about Justin’s interests, I suspected it would be well-received.

Justin put two-and-two together, finally understanding why I’ve been drinking so much soy milk. He asked, “Does it work?”

“I don’t know. I’m still testing it out.”

“How do you test it?”

“I abstain for three days at a time, then I spooge into a cup,” I answered using his favorite word for cum. “Then I measure how much came out.”

There was a moment of silence while Justin considered this. He didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about my project, nor was he repulsed by it. If anything, he seemed neutral. “That’s cool,” he said.

I know I haven’t really talked about it much, but Justin is also a very funny guy, with a good-natured sense of humor. I bring it up now, because of what happened this same night. Although Justin didn’t seem to have much of a reaction when I explained my experiment, it must’ve had an effect on him, because that evening, I opened the closed door of our shared room to find Justin laying on his bed in the dark, with a very obvious and painfully hard boner tenting his basketball shorts. I quickly closed the door behind me for privacy, because Hank had his pothead friends over, and they were hanging out in the living room, and I didn’t want to embarrass Justin.

Justin’s head was towards the door such that I could see the top of his scalp, and although he was facing away from the door and couldn’t see who had come in, he must’ve sensed it was me who entered the room, because he quietly declared, “It’s so haaardddddd!” The tone of his voice carried both a sense of pleading and a sense of bemusement and humor at his predicament. Based on the size of the tent in his basketball shorts, I would guess Justin’s package was about 6 inches long but very thick. And his erection was absolutely rock hard.

Trying to ensure his privacy, I playfully whispered, “Looks like you need an orgasm.” Again I chose a word he liked to use. A sympathetic boner started to stir in my pants, and although I was getting horny, I was also laughing inside at the silliness of his situation.

Justin giggled. It was pitiful, yet heartwarming and funny. “It won’t go down. It’s been like this for an hour.”

“You should jack off,” I suggested. Although he couldn’t see me, I made the universal symbol for jacking off, pumping the air with my hand.

He seemed to consider it for a few heartbeats, and I awaited his answer in suspense. Will I finally get to see Justin masturbate? And was he willing to do it with me in the room?

After a long pause, Justin finally replied. “Nah, I’m good. But hopefully I have a wet dream tonight.” He whimper-laughed (if that isn’t a word, it is now) at his own predicament.

I debated what to do. I could stay with him to see if anything happened, but the guys in the living room would probably wonder where I went, and they’d barge in causing Justin to be embarrassed, so I opted to leave the room and give him privacy. Justin clearly needed to blow his load, and although I would’ve liked to be there for that, if my presence was preventing my friend from getting off, I wouldn’t be a very good friend or roommate. Sometimes you just have to leave for the greater good.

I rejoined Hank and his pothead friends in the living room, and when they asked what Justin was up to, I said, “He’s napping.”

When I joined Justin in our room later that night to go to bed, he was already asleep, and I have no idea if he was able to cum.

The next morning, when we both woke up but were still in bed, I looked over at him and asked, “Did you have a wet dream?”

“No,” Justin answered forlornly.

I followed up, “So, did you jack off?”

Justin simply answered, “It went down on its own, thank god.”

Damn, I thought to myself, what would it take for this horny dude to blow his load? Little did I know that today, on Day 3 of my abstinence, when I was scheduled to blow my own load, it would finally happen.

I will rewind the clock a little bit and say that we were pretty open about porn consumption as roommates. I’d taken Hank up on his offer to use his Penthouse stash when the need arose, and I let him know that. When I needed to rub one out and wanted to use one of his mags, I’d go to his room, and if he was there, I’d ask, “Can I use this?” “Sure, go for it,” he’d answer. Then I’d bring the mag back to my room, jerk off, then bring the mag back. No big deal.

Also, being the only one of us who had a car, whenever Hank would make a run to the local adult shop, he’d asked me or Justin if we wanted to come along. Justin usually declined, but I’d occasionally agree to go with Hank. He even got me a porn DVD on my birthday. We eventually reached the point where any of us could pop in a porno and watch it in the living room. While there was no open jacking, it was fairly common for any one of us to have a porn playing even when we had other close friends visiting. Some of my visiting friends didn’t mind it, and Hank’s pothead friends certainly didn’t care.

So today was Day 3, when I was scheduled to jack off and see if my body was producing more cum than normal. I planned to do it in the afternoon, and so leading up to it, I was watching porn on the living room TV, specifically the DVD that Hank had given me for my birthday. Hank was in class, but Justin was home. I was sitting on the couch, and although Justin didn’t normally join me, he plopped himself down on the carpeted floor and proceeded to watch with me. He watched intently, and I could tell that he was horny. His balls were probably close to bursting, especially after not having gotten off last night.

With the porno playing in the background, I tested the waters. “Today I’m going to see if the L-arginine works.”

More enthusiastically compared to the first time I explained my project, Justin responded, “I hope it works.”

We continued to watch in horny silence, and my pulse was racing. My dick was hard and straining against my shorts. Since I’d already seen him tent his shorts the night before, I didn’t make any effort to hide my boner. I said, “This porn’s starting to have an effect on me.”

Justin glanced at me and saw my tented shorts. He said, “Me, too.” He turned his attention back to the TV, then added, “It’s going down my right leg.” I glanced over, and sure enough, the outline of his thick penis was visible through his basketball shorts. His legs were straight out, and they were spread in a V-pattern as he sat on the floor.

Becoming bolder, I teased, “If you didn’t jack off last night, and if you didn’t have a wet dream, are you sure the plumbing still works?”

Justin laughed. “Good point. I need to find out.”

I held my breath. Was he going to jack off now? Was it really going to be this easy?

Justin stood up and announced, “I’m gonna shower.” He grabbed his towel and left for the bathroom, whose closed door was visible from the living room. I was 99% sure he was going to beat off, and it took a lot of willpower for me to stick to my protocol and not masturbate in solidarity with him while he was in there. Leaking pre-cum that formed a dime of wetness in my shorts, I could hear the shower run longer than normal, and my ears were attuned to any sounds coming from the bathroom. I was more interested in what Justin was doing in the shower than the porno at this point.

Finally the water shut off, and Justin stepped out. He was shirtless and wearing his blue basketball shorts, with his towel hanging off his shoulder. As he walked to the living room, I could see dick swinging, plump and semi-erect. He reached for one of the dinner table chairs, rotated it so he could reverse-straddle it, then sat down. There was relief in his voice, as he sighed. “Whew. I needed that. Looks like my pipes are clear,” he announced.

I smiled back at him, “Nice!”

Then he added, “It was good, but the orgasm wasn’t as intense as a wet dream.” Only Justin can critique his orgasm so casually.

Even though Justin seemed to be saying that he still preferred wet dreams, I knew that we had achieved a milestone. Not only had Justin masturbated despite his claims to the contrary, he did it while I was (sorta) there, and he was open to talking about it.

He was obviously in post-orgasmic bliss, because he was chattier than usual. “I faced away from the shower head when I spooged, and I kid you not, a solid stream of white just hit the far wall. It was so much.” He laughed, and I laughed too, getting incredibly horny hearing him describe his cumshot to me.

Then he added, “But I didn’t like how the spooge stuck to my feet afterwards, when the water started to carry it down the drain.”

“Was the water really hot?”

“Yeah.”

Based on my own experience, I said, “Semen is a lot like egg whites. It gets sticky and clumps together when the water is too hot. Try cooler water next time.” In my head, I asked, Was I really giving my roommate tips on the best way to wash away his cum?

Justin looked at the hardon tenting my shorts. “What about you? Weren’t you gonna do your experiment?”

I seriously considered whether I should jack off then and there, but not wanting to weird him out by going too far too fast, I said, “Yeah, I’ll do it in the bathroom.”

Justin said, “Cool. I’ll wait.”

I walked past him with the visible boner in my shorts leading the way. I closed the bathroom door, and overcome by horniness, I dropped my shorts and boxers and proceeded to pump my cock hard and fast. The fact that he was just on the other side of the door only 3 feet away and knew exactly what I was doing made me incredibly aroused. I glanced over at the bathtub, hoping to catch a glimpse of his semen that perhaps hadn’t washed off, but it was hard to make out white on white. After a couple strokes, I came hard, stifling my grunts as I exploded. I barely had enough time to reach for the cup as my cock pumped out spurt after spurt of warm jizz, coating the cup and creating a sizeable reservoir of thick white cum inside.

Panting, I had to catch my breath for a whole minute. I wondered how much of my masturbation session Justin overheard, but I also didn’t care. We had crossed over into something special, I could feel it. When my rational mind returned, I stared at my cup. The level of cum in it was noticeably higher than what I had marked previously. Although the extra cum was probably due to my aroused state, I nevertheless decided to declare the experiment a success.

Not entirely sure how Justin would like the idea of me showing him my cum, and realizing that this was probably the best and only opportunity, I got dressed and unlocked the bathroom door, cup in hand.

He looked at me playfully. “That was quick.”

I showed him the partially filled cup. “I think the soy milk works.” I pointed out the old level I had marked based on my previous ejaculation, and this new cumshot was quite a ways above that.

Justin studied the cup and my white protein shake, no hint of revulsion on his face, then he quipped, “Ahh, so that’s what the cup is for.”

There’s something intimate about showing another guy your cum, and not sure where I wanted to take this new bonding experience, I said, “Here, I’ll show you the best temperature to wash away spooge.”

Justin followed me to the bathroom. He watched me mark the cup with my new cumshot level using a black fine-tip marker. When that was done, I carried the cup over the sink, twisting the hot and cold water knobs until the faucet had reached the optimal temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. Basically, a temperature that felt soothing to the skin. I let Justin feel the water for reference, and afterward, he watched as I brought my cum-filled cup under the flow of water, and saw water instantly and perfectly dilute my cum with no clumping whatsoever, washing it down the drain. I did this until the cup was completely clean.

After I stashed the cup and we returned to the living room, Justin said, “I want to try the soy milk. All I have to do is drink a bunch of it?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “And spooge every three days to track your progress.”

 “Seems easy enough. Since I already had an orgasm today, does this mean the clock starts now?”

“Yeah, if you want.”

“Cool.”

Over the next days, Justin and I were drinking soy milk regularly, replenishing our stash of soy milk cartons in the fridge whenever we made a grocery run with Hank, who still didn’t ask about it. There was something mildly erotic about watching Justin drink soy milk knowing that he was doing it only because he wanted more intense orgasms.

On Day 3 of our first cycle, Hank was studying in his room, and Justin and I were hanging out in the living room, just watching normal TV (not porn) when he asked, “Should we do it now?” He actually seemed eager to do the experiment, and I took that as a good sign.

It was at least 72 hours since the last time we both came. “Yeah, we’ve waited long enough.”

I went first. Got in the bathroom, closed the door. I stroked my cock standing, my cockhead aimed at the cup only an inch away, waiting to catch my load. There was an odd sense of purpose to this masturbation session. With the cup in hand, it felt odd to realize that I was masturbating not only to feel good, but for the express purpose of filling the cup with my seed. Not only that, but this is the same cup my roommate would be using to pump his load after me. And that very same roommate was on the other side of the door and knew exactly what I was doing, which made me even hornier.

Under my steady stroking, I didn’t last long, maybe three minutes at most. I could feel the orgasm building, and when I reached the point of no return, I moved the cup closer and watched as my cock spasmed and pumped out what felt like several tablespoons of cum into the cup. When I caught my breath, I inspected my load. Not bad. I reached for the black marker that was stashed in the cabinet, with a blue marker next to it. When Justin agreed to try the experiment, I got him a blue marker so we could differentiate our loads. I marked the level my cum had reached, which  was about the same level as 3 days ago. After inspecting my cum (did I mention I’m fascinated by cum?) I dumped the contents of the cup and rinsed it out. I left the cup in the bathroom as I returned to the living room.

“About the same level as last time,” I told Justin.

“Nice,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom. “Time to establish my baseline.” This was accurate, because this would be Justin’s first load under the experiment, and we would track his progress from here.

Justin closed the door, and as I sat on the couch, I imagined him stroking his cock and pumping out his load. A few minutes later, he emerged, rinsed cup in hand. He showed me the blue line he’d marked. It was higher than my black line. Although I was disappointed that Justin had already emptied the cup, I was still impressed by the size of his ejaculation, based on his mark. Damn, I thought. This guy can cum a lot.

Justin seemed proud that he’d beaten me (he can also be a little competitive). I said, “That’s a pretty good first load. Let’s see if it gets better from here.” I returned the cup to its spot in the bathroom cabinet.

Over the next few weeks, Day 3 of each cycle was JO Day. It felt strange to realize that not only had I convinced Justin to masturbate regularly despite his previous habit of abstinence, but we were doing it (sorta) together. Our conversations at night became more candid. I mean, once you’ve started (sorta) jerking off with your roommate,  you establish a bond, and our conversations at night skewed towards the sexual side, sharing our experiences.

I learned about his masturbation history, including his dad gave him The Talk, but Justin  told his dad that The Talk wasn’t necessary. He already knew how everything worked. I also learned that he started abstaining early in his jackoff life, when he started varsity wrestling. That’s where his preference for wet dreams started. He also told me that the transition was rough at first, and he occasionally ended up rubbing one out despite his coach’s admonitions. As we talked, he actually seemed relieved that I had given him an excuse to start beating off regularly again. He definitely seemed to be enjoying it.

Throughout our talks, as we got horny, we’d oftentimes be sporting boners tenting our shorts, and sometimes we could see each other’s tents (depending on how much ambient light there was outside our room’s only window). There was no effort made to hide our wood, which made us even hornier. Despite this, we couldn’t (or rather, shouldn’t) jack off, as this would ruin our experimental protocol. And the thought of us both needing to ejaculate right then, yet knowing we couldn’t, somehow made us even hornier, and we both stewed in our beds in horniness. As I look back on the memory now, this was quite funny. Justin even repeated his line one night, exclaiming, “It’s so haaardddddd!” and I laughed with him.

Speaking of callbacks, it was JO Day one day, and I was as in the bathroom, stroking my dick and ready to blast my load into the cup, when I overheard our apartment’s main door open, and I could hear some friends stopping by to visit. Justin was hanging out in the living room, having already blown his load ahead of me. Through the bathroom door, I heard one of our friends ask where I was, to which Justin replied, “He’s taking a shit.” He covered for me the same way I covered for him that one night when Hank’s friends were over and I claimed Justin was taking a nap.

One day, we were watching porn on the living room TV. I’d gotten a different DVD this time during my last adult store run with Hank. I was on the couch, Justin was sitting V-legged on the floor (it seemed to be his favorite spot), and Hank was at the dinner table eating a snack while watching along with us. The porn started with the production studio’s opening montage, showing various scenes from previous productions before the main video started. Various scenes flashed by: women moaning in ecstasy as they got pounded, various blowjobs, and various handjobs. One teaser showed cocks cumming in quick succession, blowing their loads on various women’s faces. One cock in particular seemed to have rather watery jizz, because the cumshot sprayed all over the woman’s face in spectacular fashion.

Justin saw this and exclaimed, “That’s exactly what happened to me yesterday. It just exploded!” (Justin really seemed to have a habit of describing his cumshots and didn’t seem to have any hint of a filter or self-awareness.) Yesterday was our JO Day, and inwardly I smiled at the thought of Justin pumping his cock and watching it spray all over the cup, surprising him.

By now Justin and I had been doing the experiment for a little over a month, and I looked over at Hank, who seemed amused and also slightly perplexed by Justin’s statement.

I figured it was time to loop Hank in. I said, “We’re doing an experiment to see if soy milk makes you cum more.”

“Oh, really?” Hank said. His tone, however, conveyed disinterest. “That’s cool.” He’d been fucking his girlfriend regularly by now, and so I understood his lack of interest. His sexual needs were already being well-serviced, and Hank did not join our little experiment.

Ironically, it was some nights later, thanks to Hank, that Justin and I reached another milestone. By now, Justin had been doing the experiment for about 3 months, and we both noticed a plateau in the amount of cum we were pumping out. If I were being perfectly honest, I don’t think soy milk really increased the size of our loads in any objective scientific sense. I think we were just both horned up and saw what we wanted to see, and we had an excuse to jack off (sorta) together on a regular basis.

On this particular night, things would be different. Hank’s girlfriend was over, and they were screwing. The music in their room was on, but it wasn’t loud enough to mask his girlfriend’s gasps, moans, and occasional ecstatic screaming. Our lights were off, and Justin and I were laying in bed, listening intently with painfully hard erections straining against our shorts. As I said before, we were used to stewing in horniness by now, but tonight it was a whole new level. Hank and his girlfriend were really getting into it, and it made Justin and I horned up beyond the limits of sanity.

There was very little ambient light spilling through the window, and so the room was very dark, and it was difficult to see details in our room, just rough shapes. There was a patio light outside our window, and this patio light was controlled by a switch in Hank’s room. Since Hank was screwing his girlfriend, it was understandable that tonight he’d keep the patio light off, since having the patio illuminated while you’re fucking would seem rather distracting.

Perhaps it was this concealing darkness in the room that gave Justin the excuse he needed to jack off with me present. He whispered, “I don’t think I can wait another day.”

My pulse started to race, as I digested what he meant. I was already horned up and leaking pre-cum profusely, but what he said made my cock twitch and get even harder. After some nervous anticipation, I whispered back, “I don’t think I can wait either.”

Nothing else was said, and in the darkness, I heard the rustle of sheets and the sound of basketball shorts being pulled down. In the absence of sight, my ears became hyper sensitive, and I could hear every movement. Hank’s girlfriend and music were still audible, but I filtered them out so I could focus on the sounds Justin was making.

His breathing became slower, deeper, and I heard him sigh. In my mind’s eye, I pictured Justin writhing in ecstasy as his hand grasped his freed penis.

Within moments, I could hear a rhythmic squelching sound, the characteristic sound of a hand pumping a cock that seemed to be generously coated with pre-cum. Justin wasn’t being loud, nor was he being quiet, either. He was simply being himself, the same guy whose lack of self-consciousness made him so likeable.

Following his lead, I too, pulled my cock out. But whereas Justin was wearing basketball shorts, I was wearing cargo shorts, and so the sound of me unbuttoning my pants and pulling down my zipper was quite audible. By now Justin would know that I was masturbating with him.

If I want things to last, I masturbate with my left hand, and boy did I want tonight to last. I was horny as fuck, and tonight I had achieved what I’ve always wanted to do for months. My cock was also lubed from all the pre-cum it was leaking, and I joined the sound of Justin’s rhythmic pumping with my own.

From the sound of it, Justin’s strokes were slow and deep. He wasn’t rushing to orgasm, but rather seemed to be enjoying the slow buildup. I followed his cadence, both of us pumping our cocks at a slow but steady rhythm in the darkness. Although we couldn’t see each other, we knew what the other person was doing purely from the sounds we were making, and this hyper-awareness made our masturbation more intense.

I don’t know how long we were stroking, but the cadence of our strokes sped up steadily over time until we were close to the orgasms we were yearning for. By now Justin’s strokes were hard and fast, the squelching from his hand building up to a frothy crescendo, and I followed suit.

Justin’s breathing became ragged, almost panting, then it abruptly stopped while the sound of his pumping sped up. He held his breath, but continued to pump, pump, pump like a piston.