I didn’t even know her name… [MF]

“You’re not dressed yet?” I complain, “What am I supposed to do?”

“I dunno,” my sister shrugs, “Watch TV or something? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Few minutes my ass. My sister has never in her life got ready in less than an hour. I groan, plop down on couch, look around the place she shares with her roommates. It’s got that implacable blandness that on-campus housing always has.

Some woke flag hangs over the couch, piles of books and papers on the table. Kitchenette looking fairly gross with a stack of unwashed dishes. A shelf with potted plants someone has forgotten about. The window, a view of nothing but the bland beige of the neighboring building.

So there’s the TV she suggested. I hate TV. But whatever. I can’t find the remote anywhere. I kneel in front like I’m genuflecting, eyeing myself in the muted reflection. I fumble around blindly for the buttons. Find out how to change the channel.

And then I see it — an Nintendo GameCube. No way. I say it out loud, “No way!” It’s been years. What is this doing here? Who cares. It’s loaded with Smash Brothers, and I sit back on the couch, grinning like an idiot, controller in my hands.

It’s amazing, I’m suddenly in throwback mode. I barely even notice the girl that walks by. But my eye slides from the screen up her leg, and then I lose the round.

She’s a roommate of my sister’s, I guess. She’s petite, toned, like a bikini model, with this beautiful bronze skin. Curly hair pulled up into a tight, practical bun. A white shirt, loose across her, very short, flat belly exposed. Well, more than her belly, really. Except the shirt, the only other thing she’s got on are these lavender lace panties. They don’t hide much. I can see her muscle tone, the curve of her hips, the firmness of her ass.

She doesn’t look at me. No, she’s holding a phone to her ear, speaking into it, some language I can’t quite place. My sister will later tell me that it’s Brazilian Portuguese, but right now, I have no idea.

She’s walking through the room like I’m not there, not staring at her. Not that I mean to, I just can’t help myself watch as she paces and bends. She’s digging through the piles of stuff, looking for something, ignoring me.

She finds what she’s looking for and sits down on the far side of the couch, curling her legs beneath her, chatting rapid-fire into her phone. What she was looking for, it’s a little black book, and she opens it, then searches around again, digging through the pile on the end table, the coffee table.

There’s a pen next to me, a cheap ballpoint, and I hold it out for her. “Here.”

“Huh?” She gives me a confused look, the first time she’s acknowledged my presence.

“A pen?”

She frowns at it. “Ehhh, thank you, no,” she says with a clipped accent. She’d found a pencil somewhere, and scribbles in her book, once again busy with her phone call.

I shrug and return to the video game.

The next time the round ends, I turn to steal another glance of the girl. And I have to do a double-take, because without my noticing, she’s rearranged. She’s laying face down, feet towards me. Her knees are bent, her calves doubled up against her thighs, but I’ve got this breathtaking view of her ass.

It’s right there, right in front of me. Thick, juicy, round. Panties so tight they could be painted on. Beautifully supple and sculpted. Bronze and amazing. I start salivating, an animal response.

I’m ogling, jaw slack, eyes wide. That’s how she sees me when she glances over her shoulder. She grins and rolls her eyes as my gaze darts away, ashamed to be so blatantly ogling.

I shake my head clear and force myself back to the game. I’m halfway through the next round when the girl’s legs unfold. I see her foot swing past my face, and I pull my arm out of the way, not wanting to lose grip on the controller. Her ankle swings down, her toes landing directly on my crotch. I gasp as she wiggles them, pushing them against the fabric, against my dick.

I try to say something. “Uh, you’ve, um–”

But she turns and glares at me, pointing at the phone pressed to her ear. “Shhh!”

I blink and return to the game. But as soon as the round starts up, so again do her toes.

I’m pretty distracted, not doing well, keep losing, my Kirby falling off the platforms and being knocked over the horizon. But my dick’s growing stiff, her feet arched so elegantly. I lose the round and reach down to pull her off me. But I can’t help myself, I grab her leg, and I don’t remove her. No, I stroke her calf, her ankle, caress her smooth, taut skin.

She’s talking into the phone as she rearranges herself.

She lies down, shoulders across my lap, looking up at the ceiling. Whatever she’s chatting about, the conversation is still going strong. My erection presses into her back. What the fuck. I rest my hand on her belly. No response.

She doesn’t react when I start to draw circles with my fingers. And then again, nothing when I drag my hand up, daring closer and closer up her chest. My hand slips under her shirt and she doesn’t care. I brush against her tit. Nothing. Emboldened, I squeeze a breast, tweak a nipple. She just lets me, not even the slightest acknowledgment.

I have no idea what’s going on. I’m full-on groping this girl and she doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.

The game forgotten, controller discarded, I grow adventurous. Her tits are great, I love how they feel in my palm, how her nipples have grown stiff in my fingers. But I wonder how far I can go…

I slide my hand down, over her belly, pluck at the hem of her panties, and then I give her crotch a little rub. And if she hadn’t sucked in a quick breath, I’d have thought I was groping a manikin. That tiny concession was it all I needed. I press her harder, feeling her pussy through her panties. Still she chats into the phone, animated expressions, her hand sweeping to emphasize something she’s saying. I stroke her pussy crotch, and she giggles into the phone, the barest blush beginning to warm her cheeks. I grin, encouraged.

I slide my hand under her panties. She’s waxed, tight, smooth. My fingers slide between her pussy lips, my fingertips press against her opening. She bites her lips, looks contented. Her gaze is distant, she looks past me, a salvo of words into the phone.

I slip a finger inside her. She tenses, flushes, then controls her breathing, relaxing herself. I slip in another. She writhes, breathing deep, nodding. Whatever conversation she’s having, she’s engrossed, her speech energetic, excited. My fingers pump into her, and if it weren’t for the little things — the quickening of her breath, the growing wetness of her pussy — I wouldn’t know she was enjoying it. As I fuck her with my fingers, I bring my thumb to her clit, and then, finally, I get a proper reaction, her legs flexing, shuddering.

I’m delighted, and push her shirt up. Her tits are perfect, sexy. A tingle shoots up my spine. Her back is arched, head rolled back, eyes closed. I grab a breast, squeeze it, pinch a nipple. She hums, a contented little smile on her face.

I can hear the tinny voice filtering up from the phone, whoever is on the other end. Feminine, and she’s speaking fast. The girl on my lap’s responses have descended to nothing more than “mmhmms” and “uhhuhs,” but this hasn’t seemed to affect the conversation.

I don’t care why this hot girl is letting me grope her, I just know it’s thrilling. And I want more and more, I want to make her orgasm. I massage her tits, penetrate her with my fingers. I study her reactions, careful not to be too rough, not to be too gentle either. I push her and push her, running my grip down her arms, across her belly, up her thighs. Her whole body is flexed taut, open and inviting, eager for my touch. I give her what she wants, building her higher and higher —

Abruptly, she pinches her legs together and curls into a ball, gasping as she rolls onto her side. The climax arrests her, makes her writhe. The phone falls away, “Ola? Ola?”

Finally, she goes slack, blinks her eyes open. She picks the phone up and resumes chatting away, as if nothing happened.

I watch, wide eyed, hands hovering up in the air, unsure what to do.

But she answers without being asked, dropping down to the floor, kneeling between my legs. She grins, paws at the erection fighting to be free from my shorts. She fumbles at my fly.

I’m impatient, do it for her, pull my dick out. She wastes no time, grabbing it, rubbing her smooth palm and delicate fingers over it. She jacks me off, stroking with a surprisingly powerful grip, her little arm flexing strong. Her touch is cold but silky, and she’s so cute, staring at my cock while chatting away.

I’m panting, my chest heaving, and I’d like to say that I can draw it out, make it last, but I can’t. I go two minutes, maybe three, with her pumping me solid, thumb running down my vein. She’s not bothering to tease me, but tugging hard to get me off. And it’s working.

I groan and grab her wrist, but it’s too late. Cum shoots from my cock, launches into her hair. But she doesn’t miss a beat, jumping up, wrapping her lips around my shaft. She catches the rest of my load on her tongue, stroking the base of my cock, jacking me dry.

I’m spent, and she slurps up the last drips and leans back, looking pleased with herself. She dabs the spunk in her hair, sees my seed dripping off her fingers, and smiles at me. This is the first time we’ve made eye contact.

I’m still panting, and all I can manage is a weak grin.

She laughs at this, then her attention returns to her conversation and she walks away without a second glance. She slips back down the hallway, and I’m once again alone with Smash Brothers.

I pull myself together, and a few minutes later my sister is finally ready.

At lunch, I ask her, “Who’s that roommate of yours?”

“Which?”

“Uh, she’s–”

“No, wait,” she says, “Guys only ever ask about the one. Don’t even bother. Way out of your league. You don’t have a chance.”

I nod. “If you say so.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/tn2m3v/i_didnt_even_know_her_name_mf