It was my freshman year in college, and I lived in the men’s dorms. I was paired up with my roommate just because we were both a little older (22) than most of the other freshmen. Also, we were both pretty studious, and didn’t get into the party scene very much.

It was a tiny room with two beds, two desks and a micro-closet where we piled our clothes. There was no place for privacy in the room, so it was common to see one another in some state of undress. We were both modest to some degree–we didn’t sit around nude, but often in just our underwear.

I have always slept in the nude, and each night I slipped off my underwear before I got into bed.

I should say at this point that I am a serial masturbator. Ever since that time when I was 12 and discovered how good it felt to touch my penis, I’ve been hooked. I love to masturbate, sometimes daily, and I still find exquisite pleasure in it.

One evening, during the first week of the semester, after we had turned out the lights, I was lying in bed, wide awake, holding my erection and trying to jack off as quietly as possible. My knees propped up the blanket and formed a little tent where I could quietly stroke myself. The closer I got to cumming, my breathing became more rapid, and even though I tried to keep it all quiet and control my breathing, I wasn’t very successful.

I could hear a movement from my roommate’s bed, and he asked, “are you beating off?”.