When I started college, I lived in the dorms with three other guys. We were all freshmen but that was pretty much where the similarities ended. The guy straight across the hall from me was some crazy mix of goth and emo—he wore eye makeup and dark clothes but listened to whiny Fall Out Boy and was vegan. The guy next door to him was a dorky dork—you know the type, watches a lot of anime, sketches a lot of anime, has Samurai swords up on his bedroom wall and a poster of Neo on his door. Then there was the stereotypical jock that was next to me. Brock. Our college didn’t even have a football team but I swear to you Brock carried a football around all the time, just like in an 80’s teenage rom-com. He worked out at the university gym a couple of hours every day, the food in the fridge of his was your standard baked chicken and broccoli with brown rice. He was working on a communications degree, or something like that, and was always very friendly and happy. He maybe wasn’t the brightest but that was fine with me. I could tolerate rap music through the wall if it meant having one semi-normal person in my dorm room. We ended up getting along so well that we roomed together our sophomore and junior years at college as well. Come senior year we decided to keep a good thing going and get an apartment together. We worked really well as roommates because we didn’t hang out socially, we both cleaned up after ourselves and we were both respectful to one another when we had exams coming up or company coming over. Senior year flew by and we both graduated. He had an internship at the local radio station as soon as we graduated, so he wanted to keep the apartment. I had a job lined up as well so we agreed to keep living together. Halfway through the first year after college, he got a girlfriend. Not just any girlfriend. A really fucking hot girlfriend.
This girl, Kelly, was exactly what you’d imagine a guy like Brock to be with. She was tall, tan, fit, blonde hair, a nice rack and a snotty personality. Brock was a cool guy. Maybe a little dumb, like I said, but nice. For that reason, I always secretly wished he’d dump her because she really didn’t treat him (or anyone for that matter) all that well. But in the meantime, I enjoyed looking at her.
Many mornings I’d wake up, wait for my morning wood to go away, take my morning leak and come out of my room toward the kitchen for my coffee. When she’d be in the kitchen, in nothing but a crop top and black lacey panties, I’d double back to my room with no thought of coffee at all. I wanted to have that vision of her but I also didn’t want to talk to her because she would definitely ruin the vision.
Fast forward to now. I’ve been living with Brock for about four years now. We still get along just fine. My job has me commuting daily so I don’t get home until about 7pm. By then he’s either gone to bed or to the gym (again). So it still works. And he’s still with Kelly. A couple of times I caught wind of them having troubles but they’ve stayed together. Brock is now working in the fitness world, creating content for a virtual streaming work out service for a start up company. He travels a lot to meet up with other people to film workouts with. Sometimes Kelly goes with him and sometimes she just stays at our place. I don’t ever want to ask if she even has a place of her own anymore—it feels like she hasn’t spent the night away in years. She works locally so she’s around the apartment all the time. She’s less of a bitch than she was before but still bitchy. She’s somehow a lot hotter now, too.
A couple of weeks ago, Brock got notice that he’d be flying to New York to run the Brooklyn Bridge with some of his colleagues. It was just a handful of days after he left that the governor gave the orders for everyone to shelter in place. Brock had told Kelly that he was stuck there, for at least a few days until they could figure out how to get the footage they needed while being safe. Kelly, who works as an assistant in a real estate office, was deemed non-essential so she was going to be “home” for a while. I have the capability to work from home, as I have a technical job, so I too would be home for a while. I wanted to ask Kelly if she was going to shelter at her apartment but before I could, she announced to me that her apartment wasn’t safe—apparently, she had a roommate and that roommate was sick and self-quarantining. That meant Kelly was stuck with just me until Brock could make it back. *Great.*
I had work, I had TV shows I wanted to binge, I had bowls of weed waiting to be smoked, video games to play, and enough porn saved on my computer to get me through even the longest of dry spells (it had already been six months since my last girlfriend and I had broken up). Day two of shelter in place rolls around and there’s a knock on my bedroom door. “It’s Kelly.” Uh, no shit. Who else would it be? “Yeah?” I call to her. I’m working from my room and I’m in no mood for her to complain about the flavor of sparkling water I bought. My tone is already showing impatience. Sometimes I just try to picture her naked so that I’m nicer to her. It works half the time. “Can you come out to the living room and help me with something?” she was being nice, I imagined her behind the door, completely nude.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, lightening my tone.
I didn’t describe myself before. I’m tall like Brock, about six feet. I’m strong but not bulky, I have dark hair and dark eyes and wear black glasses. I have no problem meeting women so between my personality and my looks I must be doing something right. When it comes to relationships, the type of woman I look for is usually not like Kelly. I’m prone to brunettes, they’re usually sharp-witted and intellectual, fit but not overly so, and happy staying in and playing games or watching movies. Kelly was the opposite of my type. She needed to go out and she needed people to tell her she’s beautiful, to tell her she’s fit—she needed validation from others to be happy. Kelly isn’t stupid but she certainly didn’t peg me as a type to be a deep thinker. In the 4 years that I’d known her, we hadn’t had too many great conversations. I think she viewed me as older when in reality we were the same age but I was just far more mature. I owned an electric car and paid taxes—in her mind, I must’ve been ancient.
I walked down the hall and turned the corner to the living room. She was standing facing both me and the TV. She was wearing a tiny tank top with no bra and a pair of shorts that looked more like underwear than shorts. “I can’t get the TV to turn on, can you turn it on?” I looked at her then looked at the TV. It worked fine last night. I hadn’t watched it but I could hear her Desperate Housewives through the wall while I was playing Call of Duty. I walked to the TV, tried a few things and couldn’t get it to turn on. I went to check to see if it had somehow come unplugged and voila. The cord was completely severed. “There’s the problem,” I said to her, kneeling behind the TV and pointing to the cable. “Your cat chewed through the cable.” She gave me a look of annoyance. “Todd is not my cat. Todd is Brock’s cat.” I didn’t actually know that. “Okay, well that’s why it doesn’t work.” I stood there for a moment, Kelly looking down at the cable. She looked up at me. “Brock doesn’t have a TV in his room,” she said, “and I have some videos I need to watch and write copy for—do you think I could do it on your TV? It will only take me half an hour to watch the video, tops.” Kelly watched the footage that the realtors would record while creating their virtual home tours. Then she’d write a description of everything she saw in the home so their voice over person would read her work and it would go with the tour. It was the bitch work of her industry, but she was working her way up and had to do it. I didn’t want her in my room but another part of me did want her in there, so after she left I’d have her perfume in the air. “Eh, yeah, OK,” I agreed, reluctantly.
She came into my room started her DVD. They still put virtual walkthrough footage on DVDs, which told you the age of who were the realtors at her firm. “Can I sit on your bed?” she asked, while fiddling with the remote to turn the volume down. “Sure,” I said, retreating to my corner desk where I promptly went back to work. I tried not to look up at her but the idea that hot Kelly was lying across my bed felt… strangely good.
She was lying on her stomach and I could see between her legs because her shorts were so microscopic. I saw her panties and the outline of her lips pressed against them. Fuck. I felt myself growing hard. Kelly has never expressed a huge interest in me but she has befriended some of my girlfriends over the years and told them that I’m a nice guy. Maybe she’s secretly in here to get screwed? The more I thought about it, the more it became a real possibility. Fuck it, I thought, I’ll just ask. “Is this work really important right now?” I asked, closing my laptop. She flipped to her side and propped her head up on her hand. “Why?” she asked. I couldn’t get a read on her expression. It was either playful or flatline, I couldn’t decide. “You’re in my room on my bed. I just… I don’t know.” She smiled.
Within a minute she had taken off her tank top, shorts and panties and was lying on her knees on my bed. “I don’t want to cheat on Brock,” she said. “Do you want to watch me masturbate?” I wanted to say no. I really like Brock and I don’t want to disrespect him. But Kelly is fucking hot—have I mentioned that? And watching a girl masturbate is something every guy wants to experience and if they tell you they don’t—they’re lying. None of my girlfriends have ever been ballsy enough to do it for me like this—completely naked on my bed. So I said yes and even though I immediately felt guilty, my dick was throbbing in my pants and I wasn’t going to actually touch her so I told myself it wasn’t that bad.
She laid flat on her back and let her legs fall apart. I was looking directly into her pussy and could see the tops of her breasts, jiggling back and forth. She put her hand down over her gap and slipped two fingers in and out briefly. I could see she was already very wet. I wondered if she would leak onto my bed and if she did, would I taste it out of curiosity? She started rubbing small, slow circles around her clit and moaning quietly. Her legs lifted and dropped as she rubbed herself. I could hear her pussy juices as she pressed her button. My dick was so hard I thought if it hit my desk when I stood up it might just break off my body.
I stood up, quietly, and unzipped my jeans then sat back down at my desk. She didn’t seem to notice that I had started jerking off too. My seven-inch cock was throbbing, precum oozing out of it, giving me some lube to work with. I was very quiet but out of nowhere she sat up and saw me. “Let’s sit together” she said, sitting up and scooting her naked ass to the edge of my bed. I put my cock away and went and sat next to her. “Don’t touch me,” she said, and she began fingering herself. We were sitting so close I could feel the heat radiate off her body. “Keep going,” she directed. I pulled my cock out of my jeans and kept jerking off. I looked at her, her eyes were locked on my dick. I wondered if I was bigger than Brock. She was either very interested in me or just extremely horny. Either way, I was ready to go wherever it took me. She opened her legs wide and started putting fingers inside herself as she watched me jerk off. Watching her put fingers inside herself made me crazy. “Touch me,” I said to her. “You came in here. You want to touch me,” I was never this insistent with anyone. Something told me to take charge. “Put your hand around my dick and make me cum,” I commanded her. And as she started stroking my extremely rigid cock I leaned over and put one finger on her clit and started dragging my fingertip up and down against it, first softly then with more pressure.
She arched her back and tilted her head, writhing under the touch of just one finger. “If you think just one finger feels good, you would love what I can do with my cock,” I told her. Dirty talk was obviously something she was very into because as soon as the words left my mouth, she began to orgasm. She came for a minute before turning to me and dropping to her knees between my legs. “Your turn,” she said as she swallowed my cock. She sucked me so deeply and with such passion that I blew my load in a couple of minutes—an embarrassing amount of time. After I blew, she excused herself to my bathroom where she spit, washed her mouth out and came back to my bed.
“You know what,” she said, “I want you to fuck me a ton before Brock gets home.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gsh03s/the_roommates
That’s so beautiful
Part 2? I’m hoping!!!