1. Waking Up To Find My Male Roommate Sucking My Dick

Once, many years ago, I was living with a pal of mine, Bob. We had this two-bedroom apartment with nice freeway access. Anyway, Bob and I became friends while working at that hotel. He was a food server in one of the restaurants, which was situated right next to the bell desk. My ex-girlfriend at the time, Ashley the Redhead, got a job there after I broke up with her so she could stalk me. And she did. She threatened every girl she saw talking to me (oh, this poor little Vietnamese girl – "She said she'd destroy me if we went out!"), and frequently ran up to my desk and shrieked at me for whatever was driving her obsessive paranoid fantasies at the time. "You know what? I don't want a ride from you! Go off by yourself and fuck one of those skanks I know you're fucking!! AAAHH!!" This came a few hours after I offered to give her a ride because her car had broken down. Anyway, she fucked Bob, and then through an odd turn of events we all hung out together for awhile. So Bob and I became better friends over time, bonding (apparently far more than I thought we did) on mushrooms, even. Anyway, a few months after we moved in together, we came home drunk one night (as we often did). I passed out. Then I woke up some time later to find Bob...bobbing. On my cock. It's a little difficult to remember the exact conversation we had, still drunk as I was and traumatized to boot.

"What...what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" In addition to the sensation of a five o'clock shadow rubbing my nuts, Bob also infused me with his dry wit.

He stopped, and then sat up and offered some kind of rationalization that almost everyone is at least bisexual. Yeah, Bob, but it's a far cry from the occasional homoerotic dream to placing your erect penis into another man's mouth. And might I add that I was doing so wholly unwillingly, you sneaky fag? Anyway, several moments of awkwardness followed, since both of us were naked and my dick was taking too long to detumesce, and his stayed hard. He eventually slumped off to his bedroom, and I lay dazed in my bed until I finally passed out again. We never talked about it. I moved out later, but there were other mitigating factors at work, although I would have used any excuse at that point ("Oops! Hangnail! Got to move out, Bob. Sorry.").