Straight Arab Roommate on HotGuySecret
The college where I studied Medicine had a shabby free dorm where students (from different branches) lived together in groups of two. After my low-profile, nerdy roommate of two years graduated with a degree in IT, I was to be assigned another roommate. This of course sucked as I had no social skills and wasn’t interested in getting to know and learn how to live with another guy all over again. My previous roommate was respectful and as a result we got along just fine. Both of us studied a lot, didn’t talk or interact much beyond saying good morning and it was just perfect. You can imagine my horror when a 20 year old Arab guy knocked on my door and introduced himself (in a thick accent) as my new roommate.
Abdul, was every stereotype about hairy muscular Arab men into one nice looking package. He physically towered over me so much that I had to crane my neck or give up eye contact, which felt more natural. I groaned inwardly at the thought of sharing space with what appeared to be a third-world jock. But its not like I had a choice, it was either this or a student load. Abdul and I exchanged formal pleasantries. His English was bad and my Farsi was non-existent so our conversation didn’t really get anywhere. I gave him space to settle into the room, which he seemed to need a lot of, even using my bed to empty his luggage. With a concentrated look in his face that I found funny he worked up a sweat putting his things in place as what he seemed to lack in organization skills he made up in physical effort.
The small room that we are assigned in the dorm is really only meant for one human but because no one cares about students, they somehow fit two beds in it and a tiny shared bathroom. While Abdul was claiming part of the dorm as his, I sat on my side of the room at my desk pretending to study to avoid the tense and uncomfortable silence of having absolutely nothing to discuss and lamenting my loss of freedom.
Eventually, he cleared my bed of his clothing where I promptly say on to not cause any misunderstanding as to whose bed this was. Once Abdul finished up he sat on what he correctly assumed to be his bed. His face was now visibly relaxed as if the work of separating his shirts from his socks was taxing him mentally, and he had this expression like he wanted to get to know me, which I always found uncomfortable. He asked me if I had a girlfriend, to which I simply answer no. I never had or wanted to have a girlfriend (or a boyfriend for that matter). We continued trying to make conversation, I asked him about his plans and personal aspirations, but he didn’t have much to say, when I started talking about mine Abdul replied by yawning massively while rubbing his eyes saying “sorry I’m sleepy my friend, it was a long day”.
“Yes, of course, I do not make any noise or require light beyond my laptop screen.”, I replied. Still wanting to make a positive impression, almost as if by survival instinct if nothing else (living with a foreign guy that could kill me in my sleep was a newfound fear of mine). Throughout our conversation I found myself unable to hold eye contact, staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper or eyeing the floor (where his hairy calves were in view).
He simply nodded as he got up, knocked off his shoes, removed his shirt and shorts in front of me (keeping his white briefs on that have seen better days) and shuffled back to his bed. He had this gait, almost like a lumbering bear. This guy was much bigger than me, not just taller but also thicker and with a lean stomach. He then climbed on his bed and stretched out with a sigh, one large foot dangling over the edge because of his height. Not having any modesty to cover himself with a bed-sheet or the decency to take a shower, the bulge of his sweaty underwear, the pubes sticking out from the sides and top, his dark hairy chest and legs, his masculine body etc looked obscene to me and I had to look away. The contrast between him and me couldn’t have been more stark. I was a thin, white nerd with pale skin with astigmatism from studying too much. Even from his scent which was incredibly pungent and, erhm, manlier, you could easily tell us apart.
I tried to sleep but it was impossible due to anxiety, fear and disgust. My eyes kept glancing over at Abdul’s bed, unconsciously studying him while he slept. The dirty pile of his clothes was littering the floor.
Above all, I considered myself a scientist. I was a medical student and able to control, study and understand my emotions through reasoning. I tried to calm myself with thoughts of drifting into space (even though Abdul’s rude snoring kept pulling my back into reality) before finally getting pulled into a bizarre dream-filled sleep.
In the morning, when I woke up, Abdul was already gone. There was a note on his desk that read: “Happy Morning! I leave early for Gym”. Great. What kind of loser spends their morning in the gym? I got myself ready for the 9AM class. The bathroom was cramped and tiny, Abdul had left his things without much consideration for others. I went to to gather my laundry basket to put in the washing machine before heading out and was shocked to find foreign objects in my personal laundry. I picked the aforementioned items up by the tip of my fingers, not wanting to touch them at all, and looked at them more closely. They were Abdul’s sweaty socks, underwear and shorts. He left his dirty clothes in my laundry basket which I found incredibly infuriating. As I seethed in anger, items in hand, the stench of his clothing hit my nose like a brick. It was a very intense blend of smells. Because of my inquisitive nature, I brought them closer to my face and took another sniff. I still couldn’t identify everything I was smelling. There definitely was the sweaty stench of an Arab guy in there but it felt like something more. I was getting aroused. Fuck my life. I, of course, being of a scientific mind with a passion for knowledge, had to get to the bottom of this. Why was I getting aroused? I would characterize myself as asexual first of all. In my life, I’ve been equally uninterested in both men and women. Abdul was a manly dumb jock in my eyes, which I looked down upon.
I started by separating the underwear from the socks (the two most pungent items on the list) and with a heavy heart decided to smell them individually to ascertain what may have stimulated me. Of course, these items were only a proxy of arousal, and directly inhaling Abdul’s smells from his unwashed body would be the ideal scenario, as well as freely touching him/exploring his body and checking my responses to that. That is, however, insanity and even I in my pursuit of knowledge and understanding wouldn’t go that far, not for any moral qualms but more so because I think Abdul would stone me alive for even thinking that.
So anyway, with the underwear and socks in front of me, I picked up what looked to be the least gross item (the sock) and brought it to my nose. I was confused by the outcome. Instead of the usual disgust or revulsion, my heart began to race and my cock twitched. It smelled like dirty feet but somehow my body was reacting to that in this abnormal way. I brought my nose even closer to his smelly socks, holding now both of them against my face and pushing my nose deep into the fabric and inhaling as much of the scent as possible. My mind’s eye drifted to Abdul’s sleeping sprawled-out form, going lower to his hairy legs and his dangling Arab foot. I gave my imagination free reign as I started fantasizing about sitting quietly on the side of his bed and smelling his unwashed foot, wanting to feel his hole against my face but not being able due to fear of waking him up, salivating at the thought of his big toes–I abruptly interrupted myself and threw the socks away from my face in revulsion. This was not right. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean morally and I don’t consider myself a person to be influenced by taboo or populist opinion but this… wasn’t that. It felt humiliating even if I was the only witness to it.
Nevertheless, I allowed myself to move onto his underwear, which I believed would be worse due to the visible sweat and intimate proximity to his genitals. To my dismay, my reaction was actually stronger. His crotch must have been soaked in sweat all day yesterday from travel, creating a unique, heady smell that seemed to call out to my most primal instincts. The manly scent was overwhelming, but instead of repulsion, I felt a deep, gut-wrenching desire. My dick throbbed with need. My imagination took me to last night again, when I tried but failed to avoid looking at Abdul’s fat middle-eastern bulge covered by the very briefs I had on my face. Again, I let my imagination run wild and I pictured pushing my nose against Abdul’s bulge, feeling the shape of his member on my face through his underwear, the size of his fat Arab balls against my mouth and cheeks while I snuggled between his hairy manly legs… Oh god. I was disgusted and turned on beyond words but I didn’t allow myself the relief of masturbation. I was being hypnotized into a reverie of lust and need by the smell of him alone. I needed to know why. I needed to satisfy my curiosity.
After a cold shower and changing into clean clothes, I spent my time in class preoccupied with thoughts of this new discovery about myself. A hypothesis popped into my head, involving hermaphrodite animals that evolved the ability to effectively switch genders when a bigger, stronger male was around, thereby ensuring that they will not compete with him (but instead, get fucked by him I guess). It irked me to think that something akin to that could be happening to me. I spent my whole life thinking I was asexual (and evolved beyond such lowly needs) only to find my sexuality “switching on” at the presence of a smelly Arab. I dismissed the idea as product of my anxiety but I couldn’t dismiss the facts – the intense unprecedented lust I felt when I put Abdul’s dirty laundry in my face.
After class was finished, I headed back to my dorm for a quick snack and to study in time for my afternoon class, I dreaded the prospect of seeing Abdul and getting turned on again but I tried to push these thoughts away and compose myself as I opened the door and prepared for a normal interaction. But my worst fears were realized – Abdul had seemingly just come back from the gym and he was in a state of undress as I entered the room. I said good morning in a small voice and looked away immediately. I could feel my face blushing, it was pathetic. He didn’t seem embarrassed or try to hide at my entrance as he walked around in some in thin worn-out underwear that did little to hide his sweaty ass and crotch. A sheen of sweat clung all over his body, highlighting his dark body hair. And his smell… it was ten times stronger than the one from his underwear, but this time I didn’t feel a hint of disgust, instead I had the most Pavlovian response to his primal musk by getting horny and producing saliva immediately.
Abdul tried to make eye contact and said something to me (that I didn’t pay attention to) but I kept my gaze defensively at the floor as I made my way robotically to my desk and opened up a random book. I thought that felt cold so I braced myself and looked at Abdul, trying to act like a normal roommate, which shouldn’t be that hard but apparently a semi-naked Arab warrior in my room can be a bit distracting. I asked him to repeat what he said because I was preoccupied with my thoughts. He laughed (mockingly or not, I couldn’t tell) and said “I asked you how was class?” as he was now bending over and taking off his socks (my eyes were transfixed by his sweaty feet and I picked up an odor that traveled over to my side of the room). Abdul of course wasn’t going to apologize for smelling like a man. I couldn’t stand it. Of course, I loved it but I had to know what this was, what was causing this reaction within me. This wasn’t normal. Was it pheromones? If so it felt like I was exposed to a near lethal dose of them.
“It was a good introduction to calculus, I thought, but I’m already familiar with the subject so I didn’t pay much attention. Did you just come back from the gym? You were there a really long time!” I said, my voice sounding higher and more nervous than I was meaning to. Abdul, clearly having zero modesty, hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweaty underwear and casually lowered them down while answering my question, exposing his fat hairy Arab cock and balls to me. I immediately looked away but the image of his thick shaft and heavy low hanging balls flopping out as they were released from constraint was etched permanently on my brain. But even as I was looking away, I couldn’t not get a strong whiff of ball sweat that men who work hard produce copious amounts of.
I was feeling weak on my knees, my heart was pounding hard, my dick was throbbing with need and my mouth was watering. My mind raced trying to understand my response. There was no denying it. I was in heat. The hard reality was that I wanted nothing more than to to throw myself at his feet, to worship every part of his body, to please him as he needed, no matter the consequences. I wanted to kill myself. I prayed to God, Allah, or whoever, that Abdul didn’t notice what was going on with me.
“Yes, I train more because this gym is very good. Lot of machines for every muscle, that is why I take so long.” Abdul said, smiling, butt-naked, while picking up his dirty clothes and exposing his hairy crack to my virgin eyes just when I thought it was safe to look back. “Oh,” I said, trying to compose myself, “that’s good.” I don’t know what I was even responding to at this point.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence, Abdul took a shower, put on some very comfortable (and loose) old shorts and chilled on his bed watching something on his phone before drifting to sleep and snoring softly in the afternoon heat. That allowed me to ogle at him freely from my side of the room.
I sat on my bed with my face in my hands, trying to comprehend my feelings. I hated myself for being an animal. For the first time in my life, I understood why men are animals, why they cannot control themselves in the presence of something they desire. It was terrifying. I had no idea what to do. My mind kept circling back to fantasies of submitting to my instincts and with Abdul next to me it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. From the way he was sleeping with his legs splayed open I could tell he wasn’t wearing any underwear, but thankfully before I was tempted to have a “closer” look, Abdul’s phone rang and woke him up. He spoke lively with someone in Farsi and I found it really hot listening to him speak in his native tongue. I guess I was in love with him at this point.
[To be continued]