Roomate, The


By Richard Jasper

By the time I transferred to Vanderbilt in my junior year I was already a well-built 180 lbs. at 5'10 1/2 inches tall. I had gained 30 lbs. of solid muscle since graduating from high school two years earlier and, despite my definite academic bent (I was double-majoring in history and classics), there was nothing I liked better than to spend time hitting the weights in the gym.

Well, amost nothing. :-)

Consequently, my roommate, Frank, may have seemed a little mismatched. Fifth-generation Chinese-American from Santa Barbara, Frank was a junior transfer student, also, all of 5'8" tall and 125 lbs. soaking wet.

"Next to you," he said one day soon after we started rooming together, "I look like a piece of spaghetti..."

Actually, he was cute as a button. Dark, thick, straight hair, extremely good-looking features, perfectly proportioned for all the fact he was so small.

"If only he were gay," I sighed to myself. But he showed every sign of being determinedly straight--and I wasn't planning to give away any secrets.

I was a bit surprised, but not too surprised, when he decided to take up weight training, too. We really couldn't work out together, since I was at least twice as strong as he was, but I got him started, gave him pointers and so on.

In that first year of Vanderbilt, Frank put on 10 lbs. of solid muscle, which was great for someone his build. At 135 lbs., he was beginning to cause more than a few heads to turn.

Of course, in the same period I gained 20 lbs. of solid muscle, finally achieving what had been my goal since high school, namely an even 200 lbs. of muscular steel, with a 50 inch chest and 30 inch waist.

The last night of spring term Frank and I got pretty thoroughly soused and wound up more or less carrying each other back to the apartment. We both collapsed into my bed and spent the night with our clothes on, on top of the bedcovers.

When the sun came through the windows that morning, I awoke with a start--and found Frank snuggled up to my chest like a warm puppy, my arms clasped around his back--and my usual morning condition was, well, worse than usual.

"Jeezus," I thought, "I love this--but it's not what I expected and I think he's gonna have a cow..."

Gently, quietly I disengaged and cautiously slipped off the bed.

"Huh?! What? What's going on...?" he woke abruptly.

"Oh, nothing, Frank, I just over to check on you," I answered. "You're gonna have to get up pretty soon now, bud, if I'm gonna get you to the airport on time...."

He looked around.

"What the fuck am I doing in your bed?" he demanded, not quite realizing what it was he was saying.

"Uh," I said, "I think that's where you landed last night. I seem to have slept on the couch, myself. Neither one of us was in any condition to do anything last night."

He breathed a sigh of relief, then his eyes flew open again.

"What do you mean--'anything'?"

I snorted.

"You know--'anything,' idiot. Like get undressed. Go to the toilet. Brush teeth. 'Anything...'" I pointed out, thinking to myself, "Jeez, I hope he believes this crap."

With that, he got up and started moving--and I busied myself fixing toast in the kitchenette. I stayed out of his way.

The ride to the airport was in silence. I thought he was embarrassed. God knows I was. Not to mention hot. Fortunately it was one of those cold spring days that come across Nashville sometimes and I had on heavy pants and long jacket--he couldn't see my erection if he tried.

"Well," I said finally, as I set his luggage on the sidewalk. "It's been a great year. You've been a great roommate. I'm looking forward to next year."

And then he shocked the shit out of me by giving me a bearhug worthy of someone twice his size, one that went on a lot longer than I would have expected from a straight roommate.

"Yep, big boy, I know what you mean," he whispered--and then he pinched my nipple through the thin cotton of my Vanderbilt jersey.

"See you in August..." •

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