It was the summer of '05 and my college roommate and I were taking a backpacking tour of Europe. We'd underbudgeted and blown half of our savings on our first stop. For our money, we'd only really seen the inside of our hotel room and a couple of pubs in London. The night we left for mainland Europe was the last night we'd spent in a private room.
It was exactly the sort of plan Kyle would come up with. He was a stringy sort of guy with short dark hair and an incapacity to grow a beard--which, like most of his endeavors--never stopped him from trying.
His family had money, though, and when he proposed the trip, I knew he'd be able to bail us out when it went horribly wrong. Of course, I didn't anticipate any surprises that money couldn't cover.
We were nearing the third week of our trip and had well and truly exhausted our hotel money. Coming back through France towards Berlin after our trip through Iberia, we'd resorted to staying in hostels when we were lucky and sleeping upright on overnight trains most of the time.
What that meant for Kyle, who had never had a roommate other than me in his life, got no privacy. It was a real issue for him. We were in the company of at least four other strangers every night we were in Europe. It started to get to him.
One night, while passing through the eastern edge of France, we were lucky enough to score cheap tickets in a sleeping compartment on an overnight train. There were four bunks in our little cell but, stop after stop, hour after hour, no one came to claim the other two. Around midnight--and three beers later, Kyle and I decided we'd really scored and would have the place to ourselves. So, we stretched out.
"I'm going to be honest with you," Kyle said, finishing his can and setting it down with the other empties. "I'm super horny."
I nearly snorted out my beer.
Choking it down, I said, "Well, I heard the German girls are supposed to be freaky."
It was big talk. For all our plans for carousal on the plane ride over, neither Kyle nor I had really even attempted the locals. The truth of the matter was, the language barrier was proving to be much more of an issue than either of us had anticipated.
"When was the last time you masturbated?" Kyle said, with as much suddenness.
I could feel my face going hot. Whether it was from the questioning or the alcohol, I wasn't sure.
"Chicago," I said. "In the dorm. Like a normal person."
Kyle was quiet for a moment. He didn't take my bait. The train hit a rut and the car seemed to lurch to the side, reminding us that we were in motion.
"For me, it was in the UK," he said. "In the shower."
"Gross," I said. "I used that after you."
I jokingly tossed an empty at him and he swatted it away.
"Honestly, this is the most privacy I've had since then," Kyle said. "It's getting to me, man."
"Are you asking me if you can rub one out in our sleeper car?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
"No. It's fine," he said, quickly, reaching for another beer. "I'm just being honest."
It occurred to me that in the few weeks since Kyle and I had been away together, we'd seen more of each other than we'd ever had before. In all those weeks of staying in hostels and sleeping on public busses, we were lucky if there were only four strangers with eyes on us all the time. Now, with just the two of us in this car for the night, it really was like being alone.
"I mean, if you gotta do it you gotta do it," I said. "Just cover yourself up or something."
I allowed a twinge of a smile into my voice so he could play it off as a joke. But he didn't. Just as quickly as he'd played it off, Kyles's expression lit up.
"Really?"
"I don't mind."
Kyle laid back and threw the thin white sheet over his body. I looked away as I heard him wriggle his pants down. Before long, I could see the faint glow from his phone and hear the gentle sounds of a woman feigning an orgasm.
I hadn't expected him to get to work so fast. Now, I didn't know what to do with myself. I scrolled my phone, idly, looking for something to distract me. I cracked into another beer.
Before long, predictably, the sounds of Kyle's porn had gotten my dick up, too. It really had been a long time.
Almost without thinking about it, I reached a hand down inside my pants and began tugging at my balls, feeling my cock lengthen. I looked over at Kyle's bunk. He was turned away from me, facing the wall, but I could see his arm working furiously.
I let my dick flop out of my sweatpants and stroked along its length, listening to the porn and watching Kyle for signs that he would turn around. Soon, I began to close my eyes, imagining the tight curves of the Spanish women we'd seen in the bars.
"Oh, hello," Kyle said.
I opened my eyes. Kyle had rolled onto his back. I could see his hand still slowly tent-poling his blanket, but now he was watching me. I didn't stop.