Loosen Him Up

Hey Pink Fairy! My roommate and I have started to have some problems.

He’s actually a great roommate — he’s kind, considerate, clean, and always pays his share of the bills. He’s straight, but is pretty gay friendly.

He’s also one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. He works as a personal trainer at a gym down the street so his body is in spectacular shape — muscular and bulging in all the right places. Even in gym clothes his ass is a work of art. As if that weren’t enough he is seriously good looking with chiseled features, perfect dark hair, and piercing blue eyes.

Unfortunately, every time he walks in the room I get totally flustered and completely distracted. I can’t do anything but stare and stammer. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of his beautiful body.

I guess I stared too much because lately my roommate has started spending less time at home and covering up almost completely when I’m around. Before he would be relatively nonchalant about walking around without a shirt, or strolling from the bathroom in a towel. Now, he rushes to throw on a robe or a hoodie and track pants whenever I get home.

I’m bummed that I’ve caused him to feel uncomfortable. I know I kinda perved on him a bit, but it was almost impossible for me not to. Can you do something to help my roommate really enjoy living with me?

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The change happens little by little. It’s almost too easy to miss. It starts with him spending more time around you, at least more than he does now. He also seems a lot more relaxed, a lot more comfortable. Sure, he still goes to cover himself up when you get home, but at least it doesn’t look like he’s actively avoiding you. Conversations are still a bit awkward, a bit stilted, but they’re better. All signs at least point to the fact that your relationship is on the mend.

You’re not sure what happened. The only strange thing that happened in the last few weeks is that one day you woke up in a cold sweat, not sure what you had dreamed of but certain that you had dreamed of something. Even now as you try and grasp at that memory, those glimpses of a neon pink light and the sound of a bell jingling as you push open a door, it slips through your fingers.

Of course, trying to figure out what had happened to change his attitude doesn’t last very long because the moment that he starts leaving his shirt off around you is the moment that you feel your brain short-circuit. It’s like the first time all over again, and while you can’t help but feel guilty for eyeing him up and feel anxious that you might drive him away again, there’s no question that he seems to be enjoying this a lot more than he used to.

At first it’s just an occasional thing, but as the days progress he completely stops wearing shirts around the house. Whenever you look up at his face after ogling his sculpted body, you can see a small lopsided smirk lingering on the corner of his lips. It becomes such a distraction that you can’t stop thinking about him even at work. It’s starting to affect your productivity, making it difficult to think through the haze of barely-contained lust in your head.

When he loses the sweatpants, that’s when you lose it. It becomes almost impossible to think at all. The quality of your work takes a nose-dive, and the only thing that helps you take your mind off of him is going to the gym and working out. The mindlessness of the reps lull you into a strange sort of trance, but even then the effect is only temporary.

It isn’t long before you get fired, but the two of you have enough of a nest egg saved up that you don’t have to worry about being short on rent or groceries for a while. But now that you’re home around him more often, it’s like the fog that has descended over your thoughts is impossible to pierce through. Most days you sit on your hands, rocking back and forth, trying to resist the urge to feel him up.

It doesn’t help that the way he sits has changed, too. He always has his legs spread, his arms draped across the back of the couch and over one of the arm rests. It’s like he’s asking to be touched. So one day you do. And you can see the blush on his face. Your cock twitches. You can see his cock do the same. He tells you that he’s still straight, but that if you want to worship his body, if you want to touch him, that it’s alright.

It isn’t until a few days later that he admits that he wants you to do it because it feels so good. You’re not about to complain. You think it feels so good to touch him. You try licking his abs one day, but he pushes you away. He’s not comfortable with it, he tells you.

But you figure out the truth a week later when you try again, when you’ve got him really wound up, his cock pushing up the towel that he’s draped over his crotch. You run your tongue across the ridges of his abs and you hear his deep moan as you watch cum soak through the towel.

He’s enjoying this, the bastard. And while thinking is still nigh-impossible for you. You definitely know what you like to see. You ask him if he would be okay with posing for you, and much to your surprise he enthusiastically flexes his muscles in response. He’s become so much more of an exhibitionist that you wonder how he would feel if you brought some of your other thirsty gay friends over.

He performs majestically for them. In fact, he performs in the nude, letting all of you watch his muscled form ripple and bulge with every pose that he strikes. One of your friends beckons him over and gets a faceful of cum when he reaches around and squeezes those tight muscular glutes.

Of course, these days he never brings girls around. He never really goes out for dates anymore, either. He’s pent up and horny. You can tell. He’s started going around the house in the nude and you can see that he’s erect more often than he’s not.

Over the last few weeks the smarts had been drained right out of your skull, but you didn’t need smarts to know that a nice thick cock like his needs to be serviced regularly. So you offer yourself. Your throat. Your hole. You don’t quite feel so good as when you’re bouncing up and down on that nice long fuckpole.

He tells you that he’s still straight, though. That his body just enjoys being showed off. That his cock just enjoys sex. That a hole is a hole is a hole, and that fucking and helping each other out is just what roommates do. Of course, nowadays you don’t know much better so you go with it. After all, as long as you get to run your fingers all over that tight muscular body of his and get your own plump ass fucked with that massive cock of his, you’re happy.

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