The fantasy was supposed to be anonymous.
It wasn’t—not to me, anyway. To anyone else, it would seemed completely random, and there was nothing the professor was reading that would give away the identity of the person. Hell, they didn’t even say if they were a man or a woman, just that their roommate was a guy. A sexy guy who, in the writer’s words, looked like he should be in a motorcycle gang, not going to college.
If that had been the only thing to sound familiar, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. Just because my roommate’s friend had asked me what bike I rode when we’d first met didn’t mean anything.
There were a lot of guys on campus who didn’t look as upper class as people expected to see at a college. But there was only one person I knew who rambled on when they were nervous and who looked so vanilla it was almost painful.
I’ve never written anything like this. Hell, I’ve never even whispered it out loud. But you challenged us to be honest. You said you wanted to show people that fantasies come in all kinds. That just because the person sitting next to us looked vanilla, it didn’t necessarily mean we could guess what was going through their heads. Well, no one would ever guess what’s going through my head.
I never thought I’d write this. I feel stupid because I feel so stupid. That probably doesn’t even make sense. Everyone else in class has been so open, I feel like I have to as well. I keep telling myself I should just lie. But that doesn’t seem right.
I kept telling myself it was just a coincidence.
However, as the teacher continued to read, it all came into focus.
She was describing a scene I’d already lived through—last month with my roommate. I just didn’t realize how he’d seen it until that moment.
I like to be humiliated.
At least, I think I do. In my fantasies, that’s what I want. I’ve just never done it in person, or I should probably say with another person. You can’t get humiliated on your own, can you?
I’ve had this fantasy lately about my roommate. He’s sexy and strong and looks like he should be leading a biker gang, not running from one nerd club to another. In my fantasy, he comes into our room and sees me lying in bed, holding his well-worn jock. He’s walked in accidentally because I’ve “forgotten” to lock the door.
His eyes widen, but he politely tries to back away. When I don’t stop, he sees what I’ve got in my hand and he storms over. He’s not angry, but he clearly thinks I’m a perv. That shouldn’t be hot, but it is. In my fantasy, just the look on his face is enough to make me come. Right there while he watches.
When I’d walked in on Christopher masturbating, he’d blushed and stammered. Then he’d awkwardly said he was sorry. I’d just backed out of the room, calling out an apology too. I hadn’t thought much of it. I’d known something like that was bound to happen; dorm rooms didn’t provide enough privacy.
I just used the bathroom down the hall to jerk off because I wasn’t shy, and there were individual shower stalls. But Christopher had always come across as painfully embarrassed about anything to do with his sexuality.
Until that moment as I listened to the teacher, I hadn’t even realized he was into guys.
The first day he’d moved in, I’d spelled out the fact that I was gay. He was a short, nervous little thing, and I hadn’t wanted any surprises down the road. He wasn’t big enough that I worried about his reaction, but living with someone who was always putting me down or making jokes at my expense wouldn’t work.
Christopher had just blinked up at me and nodded with a stunned expression. When he didn’t seem to be homophobic, I’d chalked it up to stereotypes. I didn’t exactly look like most guys’ versions of gay—especially innocent ones from small towns like Christopher.
I was starting to think it was something more.
The professor stopped reading the paper and started a long commentary about different types of fantasies and not being ashamed of what aroused us. Glancing around the room, I tried to see if I’d missed him. I hadn’t thought he was in the class, but it was a huge lecture hall, and it would have been easy to miss him.
Had he talked about the class before?
As I thought about it, I had to admit I didn’t know what his classes were. He always mumbled something about math and gen ed requirements without getting specific. As a sophomore, that made sense, but I was starting to think we needed to have some actual conversations.
I just wasn’t sure about what.
Could I talk to him about it?
He’d gone into the class expecting privacy and for his fantasy to stay anonymous. On one hand, I knew I should respect that, but on the other…he was fantasizing about me. About me humiliating him. He wanted me to humiliate him.
I wasn’t so inexperienced that the idea was shocking. I’d taken the human sexuality course as a way to understand some of the things I found interesting. I was just surprised Christopher wanted it. He was so…quiet…vanilla.
Well, evidently not as vanilla as I’d thought.
I hadn’t even talked about the people I was dating or anything that veered into personal because it seemed to make him nervous. The one time a guy I’d hooked up with had stopped by the room, he’d gone three shades of red, and I’d been concerned about his blood pressure.
I’d clearly misunderstood the signals he was sending out.
As the professor droned on and started reading some girl’s fantasy about being chased through the woods by a guy in military fatigues, I tuned out. It’d been an interesting assignment, but I’d stumbled on a project that was a lot more fascinating.
I just wasn’t sure what I should do about it.
The logical option would be to do nothing. He was obviously conflicted about what he wanted. Even if he understood and acknowledged his kink, that didn’t mean he was ready to embrace it. Hell, the guy didn’t even seem to be ready to embrace being gay, and that wasn’t the biggest problem.
He was my roommate.
I pictured going to housing and having to explain that I needed a new room because I’d confronted my roommate about his fetish and it hadn’t gone well.
Yeah, that would work out brilliantly.
But I wasn’t sure I could just ignore it. I’d always been a confront-the-problem kind of guy. Even when that problem had been my own sexuality, I hadn’t let anything stand in my way of figuring it out. Still, the last thing I wanted to do was make some kinky closet case uncomfortable.
Even if that would probably turn him on.
Hell, that didn’t help either.
I wasn’t the type to go after a nervous straight guy. I didn’t set myself up for problems or come on to people when it was clear I wasn’t welcome. I’d mentally acknowledged he was cute in a geeky, too-preppy kind of way, but that’d been it.
After listening to his fantasy, I wanted to start stripping away that country club exterior and see what was really underneath. He looked so fucking sweet and vanilla. But that paper had been anything but tame.
As the professor had gone through a handful of them, it’d become clear that she’d made sure to pick an assortment. It’d been interesting to see the different types of personalities and desires. I liked variety. I wasn’t a Dom or anything, but shaking things up was fun sometimes.
When I tried to picture how that would look with Christopher, it was entirely too easy.
His fantasy came back to my mind in full color. I pictured stomping over to the bed once I’d seen my jock instead of backing out of the room like I’d actually done. How would he have reacted? In his fantasy, he’d made it sound like just the fact that he’d gotten caught and the embarrassment from that would have been enough to make him come.
What would have happened if I’d called him names?
What would he have done if I’d made him keep jerking off with it?
I was too easy to forget it was just a fantasy…just a paper for class. Maybe he’d made it up? Some of the fantasies she’d read off had been so bland it’d felt like they’d been printed off the internet or so out there they sounded like a bad porn script. Had his been some random mash-up of fact and a fantasy he thought was so ridiculous that he’d been trying to be funny?
That just didn’t seem like Christopher.
Sure, I had other friends who would’ve done something like that just to be an ass or to get a laugh, but that wasn’t my shy roommate. The guy who’d almost had a heart attack when I’d walked in on him tugging one out wouldn’t have made fun of something sexual.
He especially wouldn’t have used me as the basis for his joke.
I’d made the guy jump by walking past him too quietly. As I thought about it, I couldn’t help but wonder what had been going through his head all those times when he’d been too nervous or too freaked out to be reasonable. Could he have been thinking crazy, dirty stuff about me?
Shit like that was why I liked straightforward guys. No hidden agendas and no closets to worry about. I didn’t care if they were femme or alpha looking, a twink or a jock with a thing for lace, as long as there was no bullshit and no lies. Sexy came in all kinds of packages, but I knew better than to even think about getting involved with someone who was hiding—or someone I lived with.
But it was Christopher…and I’d have to look at him day in and day out, only guessing what was going through his head. My imagination was way too dirty to put up with something like that. Just hearing the fantasy read out loud in a room full of students had made me hard. I could only guess how frustrating it would be when there was no one else around but the two of us.
He might like the audience, though.
If he liked being humiliated, what would he have thought about us listening to his fantasy? Would he have gotten off on it? Would he have been sitting in class so hard he’d wanted to come? It was so easy to picture him running back to the room after class to jerk off from all the delicious humiliation.
He would come so hard.
The walk to the dorm would be painful. There were too many people around to adjust my cock, but it was painfully trapped, and I didn’t think it would get better anytime soon. The image of him running back to the room, slamming the door and then jerking off was too clear.
I’d never even seen the guy fully naked, but the quick glimpse of his dick seemed to have been burned into my memory. Filling in the gaps was easy. I could see him shoving his pants down just enough to free his cock, probably feeling dirty and embarrassed by how lewd he looked.
I was going to have to find a place to jerk off. Soon.
Sometime during my wicked fantasies, the professor had started wrapping up class. I tuned in just in time to hear her giving some instructions on the next assignment and telling everyone what a good job they’d done. There was a collective sigh of relief when she dismissed us, and I couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else was as aroused as I was.
As the room began to clear, I hung back a few minutes. I had to know where the stories had come from. When the lecture hall was almost empty, I stood up and started making my way down to the front. There were a few stragglers, but by the time I reached her, they’d asked their questions and left.
She looked up from the papers she’d been focused on. “Yes?”
“I just have a quick question. I’m not asking to know who anyone is.” Hell, that secret was well out of the bag anyway. “However, were the fantasies you read today from people in this class?”
She studied me for a few seconds. “Normally, I don’t answer specific questions about the fantasies people shared for privacy reasons, but I’ll answer this one. I’m not sure if I mentioned that specifically or not, but yes, they were from people in this class. May I ask why you wanted to know that?”
Tell or lie?
Hell, she taught Human Sexuality; she wouldn’t be shocked by anything. “Because one of the fantasies was about me…I mean…I was the subject.”
Her eyes widened. “I made sure there was no identifying information about the students in the essays I picked.”
I shrugged. Christopher’s hadn’t been the only fantasy to vaguely mention people like roommates or friends, so she probably wouldn’t know right off the bat which one I was talking about. “One of the situations that was described was…based on a true event. I just didn’t realize how…they saw it.”
She watched me closely, not saying anything for a few seconds. “How did it make you feel?”
“Um…let’s go with uncertain…uncertain about what to do next.”
She cracked a smile and nodded. “I can understand that.” Then she grew more serious. “These papers were done under the idea that they would be anonymous.”
But part of the instructions had specifically said not to share a fantasy that was so specific people could guess someone’s identity—Christopher had either been too obsessed or too horny to pay attention to that part.
“It wasn’t.” Not. At. All.
“The purpose of this class is to explore human sexuality and get an idea of what makes people…unique.”
“I’m not upset or anything, and it’s not my intention to make…them feel bad.” I didn’t want her to think I’d completely missed the point of the class.
“I’m glad.” I got another one of her long looks. “But what is your intention?”
“I don’t know.” That was probably why I’d spilled my guts to her to begin with.
I got a small nod from her like she understood. “Is ignoring it and moving on a reasonable option?”
“No. I just…no.” I had no idea what I wanted to do or should do, but ignore it…that would be impossible.
“Sometimes there are fantasies that sound good in theory but are dangerous or just not a good idea in reality.” She’d already gone over that in class, but evidently she was worried it hadn’t stuck.
From her concerned look, I thought she was picturing some of the odder ones or something that could get me arrested. No, I wasn’t planning on chasing somebody through the woods while wearing fatigues. “It wasn’t dangerous or anything to worry about.”
Just hot as fuck.
“Then I guess you’re just going to have to decide how to handle it. Remember how personal a lot of the fantasies were and put yourself in their position. You probably wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know what your fantasy was about.” She was right, but I wasn’t sure that helped me any.
“I will.” I took a step back. “Um, thank you.”
She nodded and gave me a hesitant smile. “I’m here if you need me. Especially since this came out of my assignment.”
She honestly seemed upset at that, and it made me feel better for some reason. It felt a little like it was all my fault in some twisted way for realizing it was me. Her taking some of the guilt too shouldn’t have helped. But if anyone should feel guilty about this, it was Christopher.
There was always the possibility he hadn’t known I was in the class, but that seemed unlikely. The only way I wouldn’t have noticed him was if he’d stayed away from me on purpose. At the very least, I would have seen him as we’d left or he could’ve asked to study together. I knew I’d mentioned taking the class. Hell, I had my schedule up on the wall over my bed.
He’d known…and he’d put the fantasy out there deliberately.
Had it been his way of coming out…of hinting not-so-subtly that he wanted me?