I had a college roommate, James. James was very muscular, blond, blue-eyed, short, and hung like a horse. James wasn't body-shy, but he was embarrassed by the size of his cock and balls. His testicles were as large as plums (no exaggeration there, and hung down nearly four inches from his crotch. His penis was four inches long when soft, and extremely fat. His penis was nearly nine inches when fully erect, and doubled in thickness. He was cut, but didn't look it when flaccid. That's because his penis shrank so much when limp from its gigantic erect size, and the soft, pliable, heavy skin of his cock folded forward over his large, smooth, pink knob like a foreskin.

His erections were very powerful, and often painful for him. Unlike many well-hung men, he could cum pretty fast. His penis and balls were extremely sensitive, and he could cum in under three minutes if he used both hands to masturbate. I watched him fuck his girlfriend, and I had sex with him several times. I know that he could cum just as fast when fucking, no matter how much or how little of his cock he used or how fast he fucked. (He fucked girls with only his knob and an inch or two, and fucked them slowly. He fucked me with his entire cock, and slammed it home as fast as he could.) He had a very thick bush of golden pubic hair, and his balls were somewhat furry, too. But his legs and body were almost naturally hairless.

James always wore white briefs. In bed, he never wore anything but white briefs. When he'd get ready for bed or wake in the morning, I'd always get a good, solid look at his massive, hanging pouch.

James was a neat-freak. His desk was always in order. He rarely put dirty clothes on the ground, but in his laundry bag. Even his t-shirts he hung up on hangers ("I don't like wrinkles in them from folding"). When masturbating in bed at night, he'd remove his shorts and hang them on the bedpost before stroking. James had a pretty large cumshot. He spurted perhaps has many as eight to ten times, in very thick and heavy streams. He had good distance, too, and at least half the shots would land on his huge, ripped pecs. The rest would fall on his six-pack abs. He was totally quite while having sex, never moaning or crying out even during the most intense orgasms. He would breathe hard, and that's it. After jacking off, he'd wipe his body with tissues and then put his briefs back on.

After sex, James would usually shower. When a shower wasn't possible, he'd usually find a restroom and wash his cock and balls in the sink.

James was so conscientious about hygiene, he'd often shower three times a day. Of course, he always showered after working out. He'd shower each morning, and each evening. But, if James had a long day of classes, he'd often come back to the room and shower before heading out for fun.

I had a total, unrequited, deep crush on James. He was one of the few muscular men I found attractive. I liked him for his gentleness, his huge penis, his sexual skills, his husky giggle, his blond hair and blue eyes, his ability to intensely care about other people. I liked how shy he was about his penis and balls, even though I wanted to see him naked all the time. I most liked how he never used his body or looks or genitals to take advantage of others. It was as if he was still a skinny boy not a muscular sex-god. He wanted to please people and attend to their needs first, and rarely thought of his own needs (even when they were strong and urgent, even desperate).


Why this lengthy reminiscence about James -- who I haven't seen in two decades?

Because I remembered something today. It came totally unbidden to my mind. But, I remember how James would come back from parties or from a night out. He'd often be drunk, and he'd be depressed because some girl had turned him down. He'd come in quiet, almost silent. And he'd take off his clothes. He'd turn the lights down low, and then turn toward me...cupping his gigantic pouch with one hand. His cock would begin swelling, and he'd squeeze it and look at me with an almost pleading look. I would make him ask me for sex; I wouldn't volunteer it. I wanted him to admit he had desires for men, and I didn't like being his closet-case bitch.

Once he'd asked, I'd kneel in front of him. His hands would drop to his sides, and he'd just breathe hard. I would pull down his briefs. His monstrous cock would slap against my face, and I'd bury my face into his thick pubes. His sweaty, steaming balls would press against my chin.

And I would smell this smell. A clean, sweaty smell. James was always so horny, and I knew he masturbated several times a day. I could smell the faint tang of his day's masturbatory sessions. The smell of soap and warm water. The smell of his denim jeans. The smell of his clean briefs, and bleach (James always bleached his whites), and perfume-free laundry soap. It was a clean, hot, sweaty smell.

And I could smell the sharp odor of his precum, and feel it oozing against my cheek or ear where his penis had slapped me.

I would take his cock as swiftly as I could into my throat, and feel the pressure of his hands on the back of my head (it was an indication of his need).

I don't know what triggered that memory of the smell of James' crotch. But it has haunted my mind for hours now.