Breaking our only Student House Rule [MF] (p.1)

I think it’s quite fair to say that even after all the meetings we had had and all decisions we had taken, we both, and I think by extinction the whole house, knew that this was inevitable. There simply was too much alcohol, carelessness and attraction to keep us from gravitating towards each other. Now, a few years later, I’m able to look back through the fog of time, unearth some of these scenes and examine them within the context in which they are supposed to be looked at (and not only through that sleep deprived head of those days, which I carried upon my neck as a crown). But I’ll start at the beginning, that is; a suitable beginning. My birth, nor my first day to school, nor my first orgasm are all of little importance to this story. I’ll start after dinner. With the sun sinking through the trees and the wind whispering with fallen leaves across the asphalt. Autumn had arrived, 2019.

We (E and I) were both 22 and we’d been living in a student home (18 people, mixed) for about a year. A third girls, two thirds were guys. A really fruitful symbioses that only worked properly (so I was told) if the household doesn’t turn into a cesspool of bodily liquids and skin and meat (etc.). So in order to make the machine function, there was a single, almost holy rule, that was imparted from generation to generation of students living in our student home. The oil between the gears. The foundation on which all other things were built: No sex between housemates (or as the oldest roommate would say: thou shalt not fornicate amongst thyselves ).

Why? That might be a reasonable, albeit not entirely complete, question. Oil and gears and foundations might seem a bit too abstract to base such an unbendable rule on. And I agree. But my questions about the one rule in the house were only answered with some examples from ages ago. Stories told and twisted into evidence that supported the truth of the one rule. Alright, I thought. I was a young lad when I entered that house and let’s just say I was malleable enough (and drunk) to accept, nod and admit the truth was where the majority thought it was. But the times changed with her (E) coming. By this time I had been living there for three years. And when the season changed from summer into autumn and the day turned into night, so did I also feel my views on the one rule were starting to pivot.

E came back home with one of her friends that day after dinner. They were both smiling, and running giddily towards the bar in our house (between the kitchen and the living room). Seconds later, I heard the first caps of beer flying off and in our house, this sound was powerful enough to rally the troops. The referees had blown on their whistles and drinking would commence. The sprint was on. People came crawling from their own places and took a seat at our bar. The red and yellow and blue lights above the bar were fired up. The music (ABBA and friends) blasted through the room. The beers, like soldiers, lined up at the edge of the bar and the army grew as the night grew dimmer, the feet looser. The sprint was on, but no one was really set on winning.

Later, E and I were outside, smoking. I asked her where her friend was and she told me she didn’t know. Probably asleep (by this time it was 00:00). Now, I guess I’ll paint you a picture of E. This is what she looked like (from this haze from the future at least): She’s about 1,70 cm tall (I’m around 1,80 cm). She wore a pair of jeans, cuffed at the bottom, with white sneakers. She wore a black top, really tight, sticking into her jeans. Her waist looked like my hands could be wrapped around her. Her hair lay against her soft shoulders. Her ass was perfect and round. A part of me wanted to slap it as hard as I could whenever she walked by, the other part wanted to take a nap on it. But as great as her ass was, it wasn’t better than her knowing how good it was. She had a kind of truth at her side, a lifetime of compliments, that granted her an unbreakable confidence about it. She’d have this ritual, whenever she forgot to wear a belt, of standing up, jumping and pulling her pants up as far as she could. I’d be sitting at the breakfast table, sneaking a glance over my book. I think she knew I looked at her as she was doing it. I think she liked me looking at her.

‘What are you thinking about?’ She asked me on the balcony. I had drifted off. I came back and saw her again, shooting away her cigarette butt into the black abyss below. Her hand was pale and moved like something elegant and hidden.

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell.’ I said.

‘Why not?’

‘It’s against the rules.’ I shot my butt down. Sparks flew.

‘You know I don’t like these secrets of yours.’ She said. Her face turning serious. Her brow crumpled. Her eyes focussing on mine. But I knew she was straining and behind that frown was the tension of a laugh, waiting for an excuse to spring out and make the façade she had conjured up collapse.

‘It’s forbidden. I’m sorry.’

‘I didn’t know you were so keen on following rules.’

‘Ah, but it’s the only rule we have, E. Without it, the house would derail.’ At this comment, her face changed. Where I suspected a break into laughter, I instead received a blank face, bewildered from ear to ear. The comments, which I thought were nothing more than light-hearted, were being received completely different.

‘Tell me.’ She said. No joke in her voice. No smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

I leaned into her ear, making sure no one inside would notice me. People inside were still drinking and singing. We weren’t missed. At this time I was too drunk to tell her anything but the truth. Anything else would bore me. I was ready to face the consequences, whatever they were. ‘I was thinking about your sleeping friend and about how it would be rude for you to wake her up.’

‘So?’ she said it in my ear as I was still leaning in. Still nothing in her voice that could betray what she was feeling. I could feel her breath against my skin. I felt her breasts rising and falling against me. She was leaning backwards and waiting.

‘So I think you should sleep in my bed, later tonight.’

I waited there, against her. Not looking into her eyes. Not really daring to. She pushed herself against me. Her chin angling up, her lips against my ears. One of her pale hands was on my hip and kneading me. The next three syllables that came from her mouth hit me like a truck and gave me an erection like lightning: ‘Why later?’ She pulled me close and kissed me. And after the initial shock of passing a forbidden boundary, I kissed her back. Her lips were soft and it was only when she stopped and I withdrew that I could see her face and the smile that had finally erupted.

We tried sneaking off to my room, but, as they say, life gets in the way. This time in the form of one of our roommates who invited us for another game of cards ‘unless we wanted to go and fuck!’. This was, of course, a joke, but the truth of the comment seemed to dislodge our way to my room and we gave in to play. And with the playing came drinking.

All this time E and I were sitting at the bar, and I was afraid that the moment had (or would) pass and be lost. But from time to time, I could feel her hand on my leg (her face would show no sign of this, she was quite the actress). I felt we were dancing behind enemy lines. But luckily, all eyes were focussed on the cards on the bar. No one would notice my hand going up her legs, going up, up, up. Until she would show something, anything at all. Her eyes rolling up or a deep breath through her nose. And then I would stop and wait for her hand. It would always come and every time it came, it went higher and higher, until I could feel her on my erection. Until she was rubbing it softly, still with her eyes and comments on the bar before us. Under her touch I grew harder, hard enough to disregard the game. Throw nonsensical cards in the game, losing. But I was secretly winning. No one knew as they were laughing at my tactics.

There was this one moment that broke the camel’s back. I will describe it swiftly before doing anything else. She had gone to the toilet. I was next, hoping for a brief encounter. Between the bar and the toilet is a short piece of hallway without windows. Without anything at all actually, except for a whirring lightbulb and some stolen road signs. She came out of the toilet and looked at me as if she was expecting me in that hall. I pressed her against the wall, pinning her wrists beside her. She moaned. Her eyes grew dark as she looked up at me. Her mouth was open, moved as if she had lost control over it. I kissed her lips, felt her tongue moving in my mouth. Felt her body moving like a snake against me. My cock was throbbing harder with every movement she made.

‘You think they’re missing us already?’ I asked her.

She couldn’t say anything, only shake her head. Her hair twisted and fell over one of her eyes. She couldn’t say a word. At once, she pulled one of her arms free and her hand flew down, landing on my pants . She stared at me as she massaged my cock over the fabric, feeling how hard it was and smiling.

I looked back at the door that led to the bar. Muffled music was seeping through. But we felt invisible. Felt like we were in a different little world.

‘Turn around.’ I said.

She did, biting her lip. I pressed her against the cold tiles of the wall and I could hear her moaning (if it hadn’t been for the music, the others would have heard it too). I pulled her pants down over her ass. Then grabbing the skin with both hands and kissing her in her neck.

‘We have to be really quiet.’ I told her.

She nodded, hair flying. My finger went down and I could feel how wet she was, how ready she was for me. I unbelted, held my cock in one hand and took one of her hands. I let her touch it, letting her see it with her fingers. She jerked it slowly, guiding me towards her.

‘Do you have a condom with you? Mine are in my room.’ I whispered in her ear.

‘We don’t think we need one.’

I pressed her harder against the wall, took her by her hip and slowly slid myself into her. Bit by bit, I could feel her deeper and deeper. The muffled music was swelling and the singers were singing louder, so she screamed as I went all the way in. my right hand on her mouth. She bit me and I thrusted deeper and deeper. Her hand was on the back of my head, pulling at my hair, trying to pull me in. the sound of her perfect ass banging against me filled the little hall. Flesh on flesh. Until, suddenly, the music stopped and our names were called. Apparently, the next game of cards had begun. ‘E, you’re up!’ came through the door.

I kissed her and pulled her pants back on (big kiss on her buttcheek). She turned around and kissed me back. She made herself ready to go back into the world. Before she disappeared, she turned back and mouthed without making a sound ‘see you later’, finishing with a single pale finger against her lips, signalling that I better keep my mouth shut. I did.

That was how it started. And I think you can guess that this wasn’t at all how it ended. Not by a long shot. The spell was cast. And a dangerous one it would proof to be.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/prig6i/breaking_our_only_student_house_rule_mf_p1