[MFM] A conference hookup gets a little wild when [M]y roommate starts to watch.

This happened several years ago, in my late 20s. Names, dialogue and details have been adjusted to preserve anonymity and story flow. A bit about me: I’m average height, weight, and dick; long wavy brown hair, a beard, and big blue eyes. Teddy bear vibes. I’m a licensed massage therapist, and every so often I’ll find myself at a conference of fellow professionals. During the day this involves seminars, classes, demonstrations, sales, etc. At night things sometimes get a little nuts.

This particular conference was for a luxury spa brand I worked for at the time, a training weekend for myself and 50 of my colleagues from around the country on new services and products for the coming year. The company had me sharing a room with a quiet dude from Maryland named Tom. Nice enough guy but we didn’t really make a solid connection at first. First night of the conference there’s an open bar cocktail hour that I and almost every therapist there make the most of, so we’re all getting very comfortable with one another pretty quickly. Massage therapists can be a pretty physically affectionate crowd, and I’m never great at picking up signals, so it takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize that this red-headed therapist named Jess has been flirting with me.  

Watching [M]y Roommate Have Some [F]un

I shared this story in a PM with someone who liked my first one and wanted to hear about another voyeur experience. This happened a few years ago, and had never been told to a soul before. Enjoy!


A sound stirred me from the hazy confines of half-drunk sleep. I knew what the sound was as soon as I heard it again.

The night had taken our group of friends from bar to bar; new friends were made and others wandered into the night. My roommate, Sam, made one of those new friends. She was blond, short, and possessed of generous curves. Her face dimpled when she smiled and her eyes were blue like mine. She made me wish I was single. I stole glances at her as Sam worked his charm, I could tell she was into it. More drinking, wandering, and eventually five of us pile into a cab. The details at this point are blurred. Two friends crash out on my futon downstairs, I fall into my bed, and through my door I can hear Sam take the giggling blond (Ashley? Alison? Something with an A) into his room next to mine.

Sleep.