From: user@dev.nul.edu (CCSO Sites Services client)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.masturbation
Subject: Masturbating with Roommates' Semen
Date: Sun, 03 Sep 1995 00:46:53 GMT
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana

There were some previous posts on this topic a couple weeks ago, but
my network connection went down before I could reply.

Out of my many college roommates, there have been two whose
masturbation habits interested me and who left enough evidence lying
around to satisfy (and magnify) my curiosity.

Part 1 of 2:
ROOMMATE #1--"J"
Shortly before we began sharing an apartment, we spent a week together
at a conference.  We were housed three people to a dorm room (one
rollaway bed set up in the space between the two beds normally in the
room).  The beds were no more than two or three feet apart. Each
morning, as J got out of bed with at least a partial boner, I could
clearly see its outline in his sweats.  J's normal routine was to walk
over to the closet, wrap his towel around his waist, and then slip off
his sweats and underwear.  But on one morning near the end of the
week, J uncharacteristically stood in the middle of the room and
removed his sweats and underwear BEFORE putting on his towel.  He
wasn't rock hard, but it was still standing about 45 degrees away from
his legs and still pretty big.  The glimpse I caught probably lasted
only a second or two, but it was permanently seared into my memory.
That night, after J and our 3rd roommate went to sleep, I quietly
masturbated in my bed in the middle of the room, not three feet from
two other guys.  It was explosive, partly because of what I had seen
that morning and partly because it had been over a week since I had
had a moment alone to take care of business (I still wasn't alone, but
I couldn't last any longer); the whole left half of my underwear and
shorts were soaked, and I was intensely aware next morning that I
could still smell the semen as I removed my stiffening underwear and
tried to find somewhere to hide them in my suitcase.

Motivated partly by guilt (I came from a pretty conservative
background, as did J) and partly by the thought that my confession
might bring a similar confession from J, later that day I confided in
J that I couldn't seem to keep from masturbating (although I didn't
tell him that I had done it in the same room with him the previous
night!).  As all of the statistics would predict, J confessed that he
had the same "problem."  Now I knew (as if it wasn't already obvious
that virtually any male in the world would say the same thing), and it
was only a matter of time before I could find out more details.  How
often?  Where?  What sort of techniques?  My first clue came when,
before school started, I stayed at J's house for a weekend to go to a
friend's wedding.  I went through J's laundry basket and found a pair
of underwear (tighty-whiteys) bonded to a pair of flannel shorts by a
yellowed stain in the left front panel.  Yes!  Now I knew that J
wasn't going to thwart my curiosity by always jacking off in the
shower and washing all the evidence down the drain.

We had 3 people in our 2 bedroom apartment, so J and I shared a room.
We had bunkbeds.  I started routinely inspecting J's laundry basket to
try to figure out his patterns.  To my surprise, I only found stained
underwear about once a week, with an occasional extra pair just before
something stressful, such as a big test or a job interview.  It was
unusual for me to last two days without going at it, so I initially
suspected that I must not be finding everything.  But J's loads of
semen were usually so big that I finally concluded he was really doing
it only about once a week.   I continued to check out the laundry and
eventually determined that J typically masturbated on a weekend
morning while I was in the shower.  He almost always shot off directly
into what he wore to bed, which was usually tighty-whiteys plus a pair
of cut off sweats or flannel boxers over them [he was actually quite
modest, and I seldom saw even the bulge of his boner during a whole
year as roommates--and never again his bare flesh, not even soft  :-(
], and he would always change to a different pair of shorts the night
after he shot off.  When I knew J hadn't masturbated for a few days, I
would quietly reach into the bathroom as soon as he got in the shower
and pull out his underwear so that--if this had been the day--I could
get them while the semen was still wet.  I didn't dare keep them long
enough to masturbate, fearing that J would finish his shower and find
his underwear gone.  Occasionally, J would use a sock.  I figured this
out one morning when I came back to our room to get dressed after my
shower.  J got out of bed, pulled the sheets up (which was unusual),
and walked to the bathroom--wearing only one sock!  As soon as he was
in the shower, I pulled down his sheets and found a sock injected with
fresh semen.  Knowing that I could hear the shower turn off before J
returned, I added my own load to his sock, and when I put it back in
his bed, I left it sticking out of the sheets slightly, hoping that J
would see it and wonder whether I had seen it, or maybe even say
something to me.  He didn't.

J was pretty uptight about masturbating anyway, plus I think that he
thought he should quit because he was getting married in a few months,
so I don't think he ever really learned anything more than a quick two
minute "jerk jerk spurt" sort of technique, shooting it into his
shorts where it was sort of out-of-sight, out-of-mind.  I always
wished I could know what would happen if he would really go at it
sometime, building him self up slowly and then backing off, over and
over, until he finally exploded everything he'd saved up for a week as
far as he could across his washboard abs and strong chest (or beyond).
My fantasy was to walk back into the room just as he shot off and
watch him soak his face, neck, and chest with wads of the semen which
had always been soaked into a pair of underwear by the time I found
it.  But I honestly don't think he ever did anything like that.
Nonetheless, even his quickie technique summoned up some pretty big
loads; I still remember the two biggest loads I ever found of J's.
Once, much to my disappointment, I didn't find it before it dried.  I
knew it had been a while since J had done it, so I was checking his
laundry pretty regularly.  I came back from the shower, and I noticed
when J got out of bed that he was wearing a pair of boxers that he had
worn a few days ago, not the ones he wore to bed.  (It was unusual for
J to have worn only boxers to bed in the first place.  I think he
usually avoided them fearing that his morning boner would escape
through the fly.)  As soon as he was in the shower, I went for his
laundry.  Sure enough, the ones he had worn to bed were in the basket,
but not with the mother lode I expected to find.  There were just a
couple spurts on the left front panel.  A day or two later, I was
going through his laundry again, and stuffed down in the bottom I
found another pair of boxers; they had obviously been almost totally
soaked, for now they were stuck together into a stiff, rumpled ball of
cotton.  Apparently he had shot off onto another pair of boxers, and
what I found originally was just what he didn't catch.  Man, I was
sick not to have found them when they were fresh.  And I was surprised
that J had actually ejaculated almost in the open rather than with his
throbbing boner under two layers of clothes or sheathed in a sock.

The other really big load came one morning when I apparently was in
the room but still asleep.  When we got up, our other roommate was in
the shower, so we went to the kitchen and ate breakfast.  J was
wearing a pair of white athletic shorts (the kind made out of t-shirt
material that you wear under satin basketball shorts) which were thin
enough to reveal evert seams of his underwear and the orientation of
his penis (it was pointed up and to his left, but was not hard); he
had to piss pretty badly, so his periodic grabs to his crotch
repeatedly drew my attention.  He left the apartment before me that
morning, so I went ahead and checked his laundry.  To my surprise, his
underwear and shorts were totally soaked with semen.  I don't know how
I could have missed seeing or smelling it while we fixed breakfast,
but I did.  His underwear had been saturated from the middle of the
front to the far left side of the hip; they were still wet in the
double-thickness front panel.  The side panel of the underwear and the
shorts had that stiffness characteristic of a really thick load of
semen.  He had exploded right underneath me in bed that morning and
then walked around with it still wet in his shorts, yet I had missed
both.  Damn.

In fact, in one year, there were only two times that I ever "caught"
him.  Once, he was sleeping in the living room because he was working
strange hours on a project, and the nylon of his sleeping bag gave him
away, but his semen had mostly dried by morning, so I didn't get full
benefit of it.  The other time,  he was leaving very early in the
morning for a trip, so he couldn't wait until I was in the shower and
he was alone.  The weird thing is, it just sounded like he was rolling
over, first one way then the other.  I never heard a rhythmic
stroking.  Maybe he had already jacked off by the time I woke up and
_was_ just rolling around, or maybe by waiting a week he was so worked
up that all it took were a few rubs (which might have been his way of
convincing himself that he wasn't really masturbating--who knows?).
In any case, as soon as he was out the door, I put on his semen-soaked
underwear and, wringing some of it out onto my boner to slick it up, I
proceeded to inject two loads of my own before I left for class that
morning.  I wanted to shoot mine in a different place on his underwear
so that I could keep his separate from mine, but I was afraid that it
would give me away if he noticed that the underwear he had come in
once had two stains.

I'll post this now, soon to be followed by my description of my
roommate E's masturbation habits (and my obsession with his habits).


Part 2 of 2
ROOMMATE 2--"E"

My other roommate whose masturbation activities I followed was "E."  E
was much less guilt-ridden than J about the practice.  Somehow or
another, I managed to turn conversations to the topic about it from
time to time, and although he wasn't willing to discuss details such
as frequency or techniques, I learned that he definitely did (or
rather that he admitted to doing what he almost certainly did) and
that he pretty much took it as a given that guys would.  As with J,
E's laundry provided me with answers to the details of E's practices.
E masturbated an average of about 3 times a week--still less than my
6-10 times, but more "normal" than J's once a week.  E and I had
separate rooms, so I never got to hear/see him at work, but I was able
to figure out pretty well how he went about it.

E wore very loose shorts to bed--either boxers or cut off sweats or
Umbros without underwear.  He would always  take something to bed to
shoot off into when he masturbated:  those that I remember included a
sock, a pair of underwear, a t-shirt, a hand towel, a bath towel, a
cloth napkin, and a pillowcase.  It seemed that his usual technique
must have been to spread the chosen cloth across his chest and stomach
and to shoot off across it (rather than shooting on his chest and
later wiping it up).  I could tell this because there would be a
series of distinct stains on the cloth at various distances where the
wads of semen had landed rather than a smeared streak wiped off his
chest.  E was pretty potent--even with only 2 or 3 days between
jack-offs, he would usually spray pretty well to the top of his chest,
and he obviously shot a pretty big load virtually every time.  I could
also always find on his shorts or boxers the last little dribbles
which had seeped out as he softened up after coming. Unfortunately, E
usually masturbated at night, so by the time he was in the shower the
next morning and I could go into his room, his semen had often dried.
He had a sort of drying rack beside his bed that he hung all of his
clothes on to dry out before throwing them in the laundry basket, and
he seemed pretty unashamed to toss his come-rags in among his other
clothes on the rack.  But at least it was easy to find the evidence.
And eventually, I started to recognize in advance signs that he was
going to masturbate that night.  We usually had the windows open and
would sleep with our bedrooms open for a breeze, but E would close his
door when he went to bed (often opening it a little later) on
masturbation nights.  Also, if  his hand towel suddenly disappeared
from the hall sink just before bed, that was a pretty good clue.

One weekend, E and I took a camping trip.  My laundry inspections had
told me that E hadn't masturbated for almost a full week. On the
morning we were to leave, E came out of his room with a more
persistent boner than usual.  (Normally he was down enough for it to
tuck in downward, but this morning I could see that he was still
pointing to the sky in his grey cutoff sweats.)  As he pissed, I could
hear that he was still pretty darn aroused--pissing briefly but then
pausing as he clenched up, over and over, so that it took him about 90
seconds to empty his bladder.  (If any of you guys have checked, I
think you'll find that even your fullest bladder rarely takes more
than 45 seconds to empty--60 tops--unless hindered by a relentless
boner.)  When E got in the shower, I went into his room and confirmed
what this high state of arousal suggested--he had not jacked off that
night.  This left me eager for what opportunities the next three
nights in a tent might offer.  Was he deliberately saving himself up
in anticipation of this trip?  I could only hope!

Strangely enough, we could not find a campground with vacancies the
first night, and had to stay in a motel (which was unfortunate on
college students' budgets).  The next morning, I sacrificed my last
hour of sleep as I stayed discreetly on the lookout for a peek at his
morning hard-on through the gaping fly of his boxers.  I had no such
luck, seeing only the suggestion of it through the material as he
arranged himself before climbing out of bed.  The next night in the
tent was even worse--for the first time I had seen, he kept on his
shorts and underwear from the day as we slept.  Finally, on night 3,
he slept in boxers again, and the night was warm enough that he slept
on top of his sleeping bag.  A faint light in the campground
illuminated the tent just enough for me to see E clearly as he slept;
once, as he rolled over onto his side (facing me), E's hand slid
across the front of his boxers, revealing that he had a boner in his
sleep.  So close!  That gaping fly which, somehow, he never seemed to
accidentally slip out of, was so close that I lay awake for hours
wondering whether I could gently pull it open so that he would pop
out, yet without him noticing.  He must be so horny after a week of
not masturbating that even a slight stimulation from my hand might
bring him off, spraying his semen all over him and me.  But I couldn't
muster the courage.  I didn't even have the courage to masturbate
myself with him so close; I just held my rock-hard-on and gently
stimulated it by squeezing it.  But I had been hard and intensely
aroused for so long that when I rolled over to my front to try to go
back to sleep, almost like a wet dream, I ejaculated instantly with no
more stimulation than the pressure of laying on my hard-on.  I just
seemed to keep coming and coming.  I was wearing flannel boxers, and
they were drenched.  Semen even soaked through onto my sleeping bag.
The whole tent seemed to smell of semen, at least to my hypersensitive
senses.

It began to rain during the night, and water ran in under E's sleeping
bag, soaking it through and waking him.  We pushed his wet bag to the
side to soak up any additional water and spread mine out flat and both
slept on top of it.  (In the morning, I discovered that the
semen-soaked spot on my bag had ended up under E!)  Now he was even
closer, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything.  The next day, I
told E that I had had a wet dream for the first time in a long time.
I told him partly because, fearing that he'd smelled my semen in the
night, I didn't exacly want him to think I'd laid there beside him and
whacked off (although my hope had been that somehow we would silently
communicate our [mutual?] desire and do it side by side).  Also, I
wanted to find out whether he ever had wet dreams anymore and
hopefully steer the conversation to other stimulating topics.  A few
weeks earlier, I had found a pair of his boxers that he had obviously
come in during the night.  This was just one day after I had found a
towel or something that he had shot off into, and since he usually
waited at least a couple days, I had concluded that he either had a
wet dream while wearing the boxers or that he sort of surprised
himself by masturbating again when he hadn't planned to and hadn't
taken anything to bed with him to catch it in.  Since he said that he
hadn't had a wet dream for years, I concluded the latter.

We got back from our trip late at night, and our apartment was really
hot, so we turned on the air conditioner and went straight to bed.  I
figured that E was bursting to masturbate--indeed, he closed his
door--so I was going to stand in the hall outside his room to listen,
but the AC was too loud for me to hear anything.  As soon as it seemed
to have run a normal amount of time, I sneaked down the hall and
turned off the thermostat.  But he was either already finished by then
or he was pretty quiet about it.  The next morning, I found his dark
blue pillowcase on the floor by his bed, folded in half and plastered
together with a huge wads of dried semen.  He had come like crazy, and
the pillowcase revealed every spurt--I could even see where he had
wiped the last drips from the head of his penis.  To this day, I use a
similar pillowcase of mine when I know I'm going to blast off with an
unusually big load.

Unfortunately, there were only a couple times when I found E's semen
still wet and aromatic.  Usually this was when he had used a sock,
which dried slower, and I would then usually jack off into the same
sock, sometimes with a pair of his sleeping shorts on.  Once, he must
have departed from his normal routine.  Suddenly, his bedspread was
reversed to the side that he never used, and not in connection with
doing his laundry or changing his sheets.  I looked on the bottom, and
sure enough there were semen stains on what was normally the top.
Some were where spurts had landed, but there was also a spot that
looked rubbed in, so it seemed that he had laid on his stomach and
rubbed against his bedspread until he shot off.

Now I live alone, and I really miss following my roommates'
masturbatory lives.  There is a large college near where I live, and
sometimes I wish I was a maintenance man who could go through rooms
and search out evidence of guys masturbating.

Please post your experiences with your roommates' masturbation,
jacking off with their semen-soaked clothes, etc.!!