He was a thief. It shocked him really, because Cal never thought of himself as being a criminal. Least, not in things it counted. Okay, so he had taken that package of gum when he was a kid, but other than that he just never did anything remotely like what he had just done. Inside, he felt strange, sort of guilty, but also a bit thrilled.
The rush of sneaking into Peter's room, of invading his private space, of touching his stuff while searching for that illusive item, seemed so wrong, yet felt so friggin good. He couldn't explain it, really, but ever since Peter had moved into the spare room in the house, he had felt different. He was thinking things that he never really thought he could think about, let alone actually try. The whole notion of creeping into Peter's room, in rummaging through his laundry hamper, of touching his clothes, smelling them, were all thoughts he never believed he had. Yet that is what he had done, and the proof was in his hands.
Cal was just one of the four guys sharing the house off campus. He was a fringe football player, that had some talent, but knew he'd never be in the NFL. Most of the other guys sharing the place were on the same par, no real talent, but enough to keep them on the team. After all it wasn't like this was Notre Dame or UCLA. Still, it had its perks, and then Peter moved in.
Gord had left, and they needed someone to take his place. No one really talked about why Gord had just packed up one night and was gone, but the rumour was he had gotten caught with the Dean's daughter. Talk about being stupid. While his daughter was considered nice, the Dean was a real prude. He didn't even like to hear people talk about condoms, or anything remotely sexual. Still he would miss Gord, he had a nice body for a straight jock. The others were okay, just a bit on the chunky side for him. Then too, they were on the defence side of the line.
Now Peter, he was different. He was a transfer student and to Cal, he was the ideal specimen of not just a good football player, but a real hunk. The guy had those green blue eyes that seemed to always see into your soul, the lock of brown hair that would never quite move off the forehead, and the build of a jock. He had muscles that bulged when he moved, and God, his ass was like a pair of amazing orbs that Cal had trouble not drooling over.
When he laughed, it was like the room suddenly became alive. His face would open in this wide grin, his teeth would shine, but it was his look that made you just tremble. The guy was that gorgeous, and worse for Cal, he liked to walk around shirtless. Even the day he had moved in, he was parading around the house in just his boxer shorts, which made Cal quiver. You could see the outline, and each time he would walk past, Cal could smell his scent, the mix of the cologne he used with his body aroma.
It drove him nuts, which was why he began to hatch the plan. Now he had thought it out, and actually carried it out too. That was what had him feeling the adrenalin rush still. To have actually pulled it off gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. He looked down into his hands, to see the pair of solid blue boxer shorts that he had lifted from Peter's laundry basket. They were wrinkled, and more importantly, they smelled of him. He could smell the aroma as he sat on the edge of his bed, seeing the tall brown haired man walking across the living room, to grab whatever. He was always doing that, and it filled his mind as his hands held onto the boxers.
Everyone was out for the night, as he sat on the edge of his bed. His hands were lightly caressing the soft material, as he thought about Peter, about those pecs, the way his stomach was so well defined. The way he would walk so softly and yet with purpose. You saw the confidence in his stride, but it was the way that his dick moved in the shorts. You couldn't help but notice it.
Just this morning, when he had walked into the kitchen, yawning and jutting his hips out as he stretched. Cal had seen it, and licked his lips because you could tell, it wasn't soft. It was the morning stiffy, and he could see the little wet spot as well. Peter wasn't bashful, and he had that smile on his face when he greeted everyone, grabbing a coffee and just sitting down, his legs stretched out, open. You could see the hairs on his legs, slowly disappearing as you looked up towards his crotch.
The obvious tenting was there. It showed the hard rounded head pushing up, the growing little wet stain, that only made Cal tremble a bit more. He really couldn't believe how casual Peter was about showing up, with a hard on. The cock looked big too, not that Cal was an expert. It just looked that way from its size and the way Peter would adjust it, as he sipped his coffee.
Seeing that wet spot, that long tube outlined in the blue material, had been enough for Cal. He made up his mind, right there, to sneak in and steal them, to have them next to him. And now he had them, as he stared down at them clutched in his two hands. The smile on his face grew, as he breathed in deeply, smelling that scent, closing his eyes and seeing that wet spot growing, as if he was reliving the morning all over again.
He leaned back on his bed, his eyes shut firmly as he brought the pair of stained shorts to his face. He breathed in deeply again, feeling his body shudder a little as the aroma wafted past his nostrils. Cal could see it all, as his imagination took hold. It just wasn't a pair of underwear, it was Peter himself. He could smell him, even reach out and touch him, the vision was so powerful.
His hand let the pair of crumbled shorts rest on his face, as it began to caress his chest. He let his fingers roam across his body, tweaking his firm nipples. He smiled as he took another breath, relishing the scent as it continued to spark his imagination. He felt his hand moved across his stomach, feeling each muscle roll as the hand passed over it. His body was enjoying the thought, relishing it, as he kept breathing in deeply.
The nerves inside were tingling as his hand moved down, to grab at his own aroused penis. It pushed it to one side, then the other as he thought about Peter, about that lock of hair that hung down over his forehead. He imagined himself touching it, playing with it, as Peter would be smiling up at him. He would be on top, looking down and just enjoying the touch of his hand on Peter's skin.
The smell was overpowering. His hand took hold of his aroused cock, holding it under the stretched cloth of his own underwear. He pulled on it, stroked it as he thought about Peter, of how it would feel to let his mouth brush up against Peter's thin pale lips. How he would taste, as his tongue would lick at them, then drive inwards, past the guarding teeth. He felt himself shudder, as his hand pulled on his dick hard, the image of Peter firmly fixed in his vision.
The idea of how it would feel, to be resting on top of that long naked frame. To feel the press of that hard cock up into his own belly, while his pressed back into Peter's made him moan a little. He breathed in more of that aroma, as his hand moved up and then under his shorts. His fingers touched the burning pole inside, making him flinch a little. His mind was mixing it up, as if Peter was actually there, and that it wasn't his hand, but Peter's grabbing hold of his cock, of Peter's fingers slowly circling his blood gorged cock. That it was Peter's own fingers that would slowly grip the throbbing pole, and slowly wrap around, till it was squeezing the burning flesh.
His mind made him think of Peter's long fingers, of how they would feel as they slowly pushed down on his cock. Making him shake and tremble to the touch, as the hand made its way down, to push hard into his own crotch. He sighed, as he felt the press on his groin, groaned a little as he visualized the concentrated look that would cross Peter's face, if it was his hand.
Cal felt himself drifting off, as with his other hand, he brought Peter's soiled underwear closer to his nose, even letting his tongue flick out to lick at it, to taste what was left. He had found the wet stain, dried and crusty now, and he had it positioned over his mouth, as his other hand continued to fuel the fantasy in his brain.
He moaned softly, whimpered a little as pushed some of the blue material into his mouth. His teeth biting at it, holding it, while he breathed the aroma in several times. His body began to tremble even more, as his hand moved quickly up and down his throbbing pole. Just like Peter would do, if it was his hand. He could feel it, the fingers holding his cock tightly, stroking it slowly at the beginning but letting himself get carried away. He could feel the growing need in the hand, as it moved faster and faster with each stroke.
His breathing was ragged, but with each short breath he could feel Peter. It was like he was in the room with him, standing over him, as he felt his hand moving up and down in quick strokes, his own underwear stretching with each thrust up, with each push upwards. His body was aching, as he felt his eyes closing even tighter. The image of Peter, his eyes boring into his, the scent all around him, the feel of his flesh on his own, was making him squirm. The ache in his balls grew, as he could see Peter, feel the muscles rolling underneath his flat stomach. He felt them roll, as his hand was now a blur, despite his underwear. Each pull upward, then down would make the waist band stretch, would let it fall down onto his stomach with a smack.
The bed was bouncing, as his hand sped up. He felt it inside, smelled it, as he continued to stroke and see Peter there. One minute he was on top, then just standing over him, but always that hard cock was there, growing harder with each inhale that Cal took. He felt his presence, could feel it even as he felt the pain growing inside. His legs were spread apart, his toes began to curl upwards, cramping his legs.
Every muscle in his body was tense, as he stroked himself to the floating image of Peter. The whole room was shimmering before him, as he saw Peter floating in and out. The cock would be in front of his vision, then around his face. He could almost believe it was there, waiting for him to reach out and grab hold. He wanted to feel it throbbing as his own hand was just a blur now.
The ache inside, grew, as his body was reaching that point. His mind could only see the head of that cock, white cum was slowly oozing out of the cock head. He licked his lips, knowing how much he wanted to taste it. The room was beginning to cloud over, his legs were numb, as the blood was rushing to his own cock. He cried out, as he lifted his head up, to try and taste what wasn't there.
His hips shot upwards, as his cock exploded between his clenched fingers. Cal felt the hot milk as it rushed past his fingers. He cried out in a whimpering moan, as his body trembled and shook to his ejaculation. His hand was soaked, as his milk poured out. His mind was reeling, as the images became blurred, and he fell back onto the bed, soaked from sweat, and from his fantasy.
He held onto his cock, feeling it quiver, as the last of his milk spilled out, soaked up by his own underwear. He could feel the wetness as he slowly rubbed his groin, smearing his own cum across his dick, and now empty balls. He sighed, as he slowly opened his eyes, to see the blue shorts still over his face. Carefully he picked them up and took one more long breathe. They still smelled so good, that he grinned as he leaned back up, off the bed.
He might be a thief, he thought, but damn it felt good to hold those shorts. Quickly he pulled his pants back up, feeling the wetness of his own underwear, as he walked over to his drawer, and placed Peter's soiled boxer shorts, underneath the pants. He carefully folded them, and as he placed them in the drawer, he smiled, looking at his other collection.
The memories were there, as his fingers played over the other pairs of hidden underwear, but they kept going back to his newest addition to his collection. They were definitely going to be his favourite, he thought as he closed the drawer.