Drunk roommate

In my freshman year in college I shared a dorm room with my high school buddy Chris. I had such a hardon for Chris that I almost didn’t take him up on the offer to room together as I wasn’t sure I could handle being that close to him all the time.

Once I got used to it, it was OK. Chris and I knew each other well enough and had been friends long enough that it was easy to get along, and if I just ignored his naked body parading around our room after his shower each night I could handle it.

The Saturday before the Thanksgiving break some guys down the hall had a party, and Chris and I went. There was lots of beer and several guys were passing around bottles of harder stuff, so a lot of guys got pretty shit-faced. I don’t like to drink, afraid what I might do, for one thing, so I had a couple of beers, then stretched out on a couch to relax.

After I’d been on the couch for a few minutes, with my eyes closed, I felt the couch bounce, then felt someone slide onto it next to me, felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard Chris’s voice, “Hey Brad, move over so I can sit next to you.”