It was the end of a Spring term in which I had successfully managed to stumble my way to good grades, late nights out, and to top it, somehow back to decent shape. It had been satisfying. I had done well and I knew it. Not exceptionally, perhaps, but well enough for me. We had celebrated it, my shared house and I, with a blow out party. As with any gathering of young people, music, and intoxicating substances from across the spectrum, we had a blast. People had laughed and danced, hugged and kissed, and most importantly, left before the sun came up so I actually got some sleep.
There had been a few nerves when I had moved in back in January. A small house can get quite tense, especially when you’re the new guy. The three girls I moved in with had been together since last year, but had had their last flatmate drop out at the end of the Winter term when she had spiralled down that lurking pit of academic despair. It was very lucky for me, though, because I had just been kicked out of my last house for sleeping with one of the guy’s girlfriends. Personally, I think it was pretty harsh to blame it all on me considering that she had been the one to hammer at my door at three am, but apparently they had been together since they were teenagers and everyone decided that I had committed cardinal sin by spoiling pure love.
There had been a moment when I thought my new housemates were going to turn me down from moving in over this. I had been open and honest about it as I didn’t want any suspicions hanging over me, and it had led to quite a heated discussion between them on the other side of the coffee shop table that they interviewed me over. I had simply sat with mild bemusement, torn between finding their earnest whispers humorous or terrifying.
Eventually, they had turned to me. The middle one, Emily, who had put out their advert on social media, looked at me with this deadly serious face. It took all my strength not to break out grinning. Holding her eyes, I had waited as she took a breath and told me that they “are willing to overlook your… past transgression, on one condition.” A pause. God, it was hard not to giggle. “No fucking our friends.” Oh man, it was hard not to. “We mean it. We have a lot over and you have to stay away from them. Go too close with even a hint of a hard on and you’re out, okay?” Heaven better reward patient men, because I fought demons in that moment as I held my mouth in a fixed line and responded in my sincerest tone that I would restrain myself. Honestly, I was mainly just flattered that they thought I was capable of seducing anyone and everything. With that, I was in.
From then, things were pretty much smooth sailing. I like to think I broke at least a couple gender stereotypes with how well I kept myself and my environment. Washed the dishes, hung the towels, and so on. If anything, I was a general improvement to them and we got along well. After a month, I felt we were friends and I was accepted as a relative non-threat. They stopped acting like I might trick one of them into bed in any moment, which Emily had seemed convinced of, and relaxed a bit around me.
Naturally, there were some fun accidents here and there, though it always seemed to be them walking in on me rather than the other way around. I think I’m just unlucky when it comes to unexpected women appearing in doorways. We always laughed it off, though, never a real biggie. It probably didn’t help that I’ve always had a habit of just wandering out nude in the mornings if I’m hungover. I don’t know why, but the idea of putting on clothes until I’ve cleansed my system with gallons of water just makes my whole skin crawl. Good news is that I was almost always awake significantly earlier than them after a night drinking together so I was only caught like this once. Of course, it had to be by Emily.
There I was, head tilted back and two litre, two week old, plastic bottle filled with water happily draining down my throat in the chilly March morning light coming through the window. Nipples hard, dick free, loving life. When I paused to catch my breath, I realised that I could hear what sounded like the microwave humming. Strange, I hadn’t turned it on. I turned to see what was happening, and there was Emily in her plush dressing gown staring straight at my cock and practically vibrating on the spot. Somehow, she was the source of the noise. Truly dazed and confused, I just stood and stared. She didn’t look up. She was very pretty in the grey light. More importantly, her dressing gown was cut really quite low and I could see a very nice swell around her chest. Safe to say, this made something else twitch and try to swell itself. And with that the noise stopped, she froze, and walked out. So I finished my water. Not a bad start to the morning, really.
Since then, Emily had been acting as if I had orchestrated the whole thing and for the last month and a half had been constantly ordering me to wear more clothes, no matter how dressed I already was. T-shirt and jeans? Put on a jumper. Gym gear? Wear this coat right this second. Whatever, her sincerity was endearing. It didn’t really bother me and instead meant that whenever she did something like leave her fucking slippers in the shower again, which I had to carefully step over to avoid getting wet, I would wait until she was alone and threaten to take off my top. Without a hitch, she would turn red and make that strange hum again and take them away. I guess we win some, huh?
Anyway, that’s how it ended up that April morning me walking into the kitchen at eight in the morning stark naked. Emily was nowhere to be seen and I hoped would stay that way. No way was anyone getting me dressed until I was purified. I got my water and started gulping like my life depended on it. Having emptied one bottle of cool, wonderfully clear and non-alcoholic water, I sauntered through the kitchen to the living room and collapsed on one of the worn leather sofas. I grabbed a rug and chucked it over my lap to keep the little fella warm as I flicked on the TV and started to tap through channels. Unsurprisingly, very little was on, and I ended up on one of those music video streams and watched whatever was uploaded. I let my eyes unfocus and just enjoyed the feeling of having survived another night of self-destruction.
After a while, I slowly turned my head and looked out across the wreckage of the room. Most of the trash had been taken care of, by me, last night but there were blankets and cushions all over the floor. They were strewn everywhere, and on the other sofa there was a big pile of them. As if someone had built a nest. As if someone was sleeping there. As if they were staring out at me with two big, rather shocked eyes. As if Emily had her friend from home over. And as if she had specifically told me to remember not to do “that weird naked thing around my friends.” Fuck. Shit, even. This was going to be rough.
I made to stand up and immediately thought better of it. Flashing her, now definitely awake, friend would probably just make things worse. I pressed back into the sofa and looked pointedly at the screen with its inane dancers. A moment passed. I glanced back at her. Yep, those were definitely a pair of big blue eyes looking out at me. Pretty eyes too. Mine returned to examine in detail the twerking lady on the screen. I coughed. “Mornin’.” It was written on my school reports that I was always able to make new friends.
A few minutes passed of nothing. I heard a bit of shuffling on the other sofa, but steadfastly refused to look over. My plan was to simply wait for it to go away. I was fairly sure that would work… eventually. The rustling continued and I heard blankets falling to the floor. Then the creak of the cold floorboards as feet settled on them. Then the sound of steps. And then I felt the sofa sink next to me as she sat against me. And, what was that? I felt the warmth of bare skin against my shoulder, followed by a soft cheek and hair falling over my chest. Finally, a large blanket being tossed over both of us. Another pause. “Morning,” she said. Cold. Real cold.
After a few minutes of this, I relaxed a little and rested my cheek on top of her head against me. In response, she nestled closer. This was nice. Cosy. Comfortable. I shuffled a little deeper into the sofa. Nice, warm, soft… very soft… ah. Her boob was pressing into my arm. I wish I could say that my calm stayed with me, but it deserted me without so much as a “farewell, fuck you.” My breath hitched and my dick twitched. She laughed. Actually laughed. And I had thought she seemed so small and innocent under those covers. I felt her turn her face to mine. I looked into her eyes, unable to keep from blushing at the contact. She grinned as I looked away. Her lips touched my ear as she whispered “I was masturbating under there, you big bastard.” I died.
I felt her relax her head against my shoulder again as she slowly slid a hand down my thigh under the blanket. It traced the inside, steadily inching towards my hardening dick. As her fingertips brushed over the base it was as if lightning shot all through my body. I gasped. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around the lower shaft, letting it swell in her grip until I was fully erect. She giggled again. Her other hand reached over, took mine in hers, and brought it between her legs. “Mine goes there, yours goes here,” she said in a gently teasing tone.
The heat coming from between her thighs was incredible. She really hadn’t been kidding, I could feel the slickness left from her half-session spread all over her soft skin. Her hand tightened a little around my cock. In response, I twisted my hand and fingers until they were spread resting over her wet mound. My middle finger traced around the edge, closing in on the top and circling until I felt the hard little bump of her clitoris. I paused for a second, matching the gentle pressure she was applying through her fingers wrapped around me. Then, I started to make small circles. In turn, her hand slowly worked up my shaft, to the very tip of my penis, and back down. My foreskin slid back and forth, stiffly at first, then smoother as my pre-cum began to leak.
The circles I was making grew more concentrated and I pushed in harder, pressing in on every angle, enjoying listening to her breathing as I did. Her pace grew quick for a minute, then slackened, then loosened, then tightened and moved rapidly. As her own pleasure quickly regrew to where she had abandoned it, her ability to hit a rhythm with me faltered. I didn’t mind though, I enjoyed hearing her gasp so much.
After a few minutes, I pulled her hand off me entirely, quickly pressed her deeper into the sofa and dropped down between her knees. Without a pause to let her cool, I pressed my mouth against her wetness and began to run my tongue in tight circles around her clit. She tasted amazing, coating the inside of my mouth and across my face within seconds. I ramped up the intensity further by using the rough, broad, part of my tongue in short strokes, building a rhythm. My head pressed against her, moved up and down faster and deeper. One of my hands pressed into her thigh, holding her in place as she tried to grind. The other reached up under the half-on blanket and massaged her soft breast.
She was moaning loudly by now, enough to drown out the music from the stream. I increased my pace further. My neck and tongue ached but I kept going. She gyrated to hard now that it took all my strength just to hold her to the sofa. Again and again my fingers sunk into her soft chest as my tongue pressed as hard as it could against her. I felt her begin to grab my head and pant. She was close. I held the rhythm, keeping it unchanging. Her moaning increased ever further and I knew she was about to cum. Regardless, I kept on licking, devouring her for everything I was worth. Finally, I felt her thighs harden as she tensed, her breathing seemed to completely stop for a moment as she and time froze. Then she let out a long, continuous, groan and her body began to shake from head to toe in release.
This was the sight that greeted Emily as she walked in wearing that big plush gown of hers. The first I knew that she was there was when I felt some lethally sharp nails sink into my shoulders, even as her friends fingers were still in my hair. I yelped. Those nails should be banned. I swear she sharpened them deliberately. Next they were grabbing my ear, pulling me up to my feet. I tried to look back as she furiously tore me from the room. The last I saw of her friend was her spread out, breathing deep, eyes screwed shut waiting for the sofa to stop spinning. Then I was in Emily’s room and the door was slammed shut.
The noise that came from her is impossible to describe. The best I can try is that it was a bit like hearing a hamster in a rusted wheel careen into a lake and drown itself. Good luck. What was easier to understand was the hail of fists that came at me again and again. Foolishly, I couldn’t stop myself and I laughed. Big mistake. Next thing she was literally jumping onto me and I fell to the floor as she continued to hurl her fists into my side and stomach. As fit as Emily was, they were not doing much damage. Nonetheless, I looked up at her with a big, dumb, grin as she straddled me and kept attempting to beat me to a pulp. I tossed my head back and laughed further. God, what a great day. And then it got even better as her dressing gown finally gave it up and fell wide open, exposing her hanging breasts which joyfully danced with each blow she delivered.
What I did next probably wasn’t wholly ethical, but I really couldn’t help myself. It was like a cat with a mouse on meth. Besides, she was hitting me. I reached up and cupped each boob in my hands. She froze and the screech stopped. Instead, there returned the microwave. My grin truly could have cleaned out the sewers. Man, they felt good. I gave a little squeeze and let my hands fall back, resigned to whatever came next in Emily’s attempt to make me a human pinata. I honestly wasn’t expecting her to reach down, grab my face in her hands, and near suffocate me by kissing me deeply.
Her noise stopped now, but the vibrations intensified as she pressed her body against mine, chest to chest, and kissed me again and again. Over and over her hands grabbed at my face, my shoulders, my chest. Those wonderful breasts pressed into me and I could feel the hardness of her nipples against my skin. She didn’t break contact once as she slid one hand down my side, between my legs, and line my cock up to her waiting pussy as it ground the air above me. Oh shit, this could be bad. It took surprising strength to push her off me just long enough for me to gasp “No condom!” Immediately she had thrown me back onto the floor and she hovered just a millimetre above my lips as she rapidly, angrily, rattled out “You fuck around like that and talk about condoms? You, the supreme player. The oohh, big stud, the jock, the whatever the fuck you think of yourself. Condoms? Fuck you. This is your one chance. Your one goddamn chance. I gave you the rules and you broke them. So either you fuck me here and now and you become mine for good, or you’re out there. No fucking, no house.” She paused and stared me in the eyes. I didn’t say anything. I let out a little whelp. What else could I say? I’m a simple man and if I didn’t slide in then I would die for the last time. Maybe. I nodded. “Good,” she said in a softer tone. For a second, she smiled. Then she slid down onto me and bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/12d63bo/the_chilling_case_of_a_serial_housemate_fucker_mf
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