How I got a free-use roommate [M26/F23] [sex] [oral] [blue ball relief]

I’m laying on the couch, forcing my way through another dense academic article, doing my best to understand why my thesis advisor thought this would help me, when Theresa says, “What do you think of these pants?”

Vaguely, in the part of my mind that filters out distractions, I’d been aware that Theresa’s door had opened and she’d strutted out. I blink as the information percolates into my awareness, and I see that she’s stopped in front of me, her butt in my face, her shoulders and head twisted around to look down at it. “How does my ass look in them?”

Theresa’s ass, I am seeing, is perfect. Round yet firm, plump yet toned, it curves out majestically from her tight little waist, down to her longer, slender legs. Wrapped in these new workout pants that cling to her skin and show off every contour, I am suddenly reminded that it has been far too long since I’ve gotten laid. “Uhh…” I mumble, searching for words.

She adds, “They’re not too tight, are they?”

My mouth waters, language abandoning me. “Umm…” Her pants are shimmery olive green, but it’s their texture which is more important to me, the way it gives definition to her figure, the way it emphasizes her perfect shape. If she were wearing underwear, they’d be outlined through the fabric. But she’s clearly not.

Theresa frowns. “I don’t know, I’m thinking of returning them.”

“Why?” I say, nearly panting.

“They’re too snug, don’t you think?”

“Snug’s sexy,” I mutter.

She rolls her eyes. “Will! They’re for the gym. They’re not supposed to be sexy.” She rolls her hips to one side, then the other.

Lust dictates my speech. “Pull them up a little.”

“Why?” she says. But she hikes her shirt up and grabs their thick waistband, yanking them up even tighter. Her ass could not get any better shaped.

I stare. “Goddam.”

“Will,” she giggles, “You’re not ogling me, are you?” She pulls her long brown hair into a high pony tail, slipping a scrunchy from her wrist to hold it in place. It swings against her lime green shirt. “What are you doing?”

What am I doing? I’m leaning forward, arm outstretched, lifting her shirt back up, sliding my fingers along her pants’ waistband. “Just checking the hemming,” I say.

“That tickles!” she flinches.

I do not, as a rule, think about Theresa in this way. It was nine months ago when she became my roommate, and Jimmy had only brought her around the first time a few weeks before. I was in my bedroom, studying as usual, when he knocked on my door. “Hey, I gotta ask you something.”

The place I was renting was odd. It was above a cheap tourist art gallery and had two bedrooms, each with their own private front door and bathroom. Bridging the two was a shared living room and kitchen. The apartment was dated, sporting a very 70s feel with dark wood beams for a ceiling and orange linoleum countertops, but it was great for me. I could sub-rent the other half, getting a roommate to pay half the rent, and Jimmy could do whatever the hell it was he did without interrupting my intense study schedule.

“What’s up?” I said. I’d met Jimmy because we both bought drugs from the same guy. I think that was all we had in common. Him wanting to ‘ask me something’ was a rarity.

“You know that girl I’ve been hooking up with? Theresa?”

I didn’t. “I guess,” I shrugged.

“Cool if she moves in?”

“What, like, ‘moves in’ moves in? You just said she was a hookup.”

“I know, man. But she’s losing her place, and she’s over here all the time anyway.”

“She is?”

“Yeah.”

I said, “Well, sure, she can move in, I don’t care. Seems like nobody you know stays living in the same place all that long anyway.”

“Thanks, man.”

And Theresa I guess moved in, not that I noticed much different. An extra car parked out front, a few different things in the pantry, and that was it. My graduate program was taking up most of my waking hours, and I don’t think I ever spoke more than three words in a row to Theresa. Yes, she was cute, but she was Jimmy’s girlfriend or something, and so her cuteness was just trivia, same as that she seemed to eat a lot of grapefruit, or that she drove a blue sedan.

My comment about Jimmy’s fluid living situations proved prophetic, when, a month ago, I came home from TAing a class and all of his stuff was gone. Theresa was splayed out on the couch, blankets pulled up to her chin, some stupid brightly-colored musical on the TV, the stink of an indica heavy in the air.

“Uh, yo, Theresa,” I’d said, “What’s going on?”

“Jimmy and I split up,” she said, “It wasn’t good. We moved in together too quick.”

I shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Guess you’ve got me for a roommate now.”

“Uh. Guess so.” I considered asking how they decided Jimmy would be the one to leave, but then I decided I didn’t care enough to bother.

“That a problem for you? Being roommates with a girl?”

I shook my head. “So long as you pay your rent and clean up your stuff, I don’t care who you are.”

“What if I bring by, like, tons of guys?”

I shrugged again, already heading back to my room. “You do you.”

She didn’t, though, bring by tons of guys. It was two weeks before anyone came home with her. And it was this doofus called Trevor who I’m not sure who he was friends with despite him always being around. I reckoned she could do better than him, but I wasn’t going to judge.

I was in my usual spot — the couch — doing my usual thing — reading yet another headache-inducing technical text, when I was interrupted by a door slamming so hard the walls shook and dust drifted down from the rafters. Theresa wasn’t without her occasional moods, but when her bedroom door flew open and she stomped out and into the kitchen, fuming and seething, it was the maddest I’d seen her.

I sighed and braced myself for summoning up some empathy, setting my book down. “You, uh, need anything?”

“No,” she growled, stomping back to the doorway, leaning against the jamb. Her makeup was smeared down her cheeks, her hair disheveled. “Men are such fucking jerks,” she said, then shook her head and stomped away, back into her bedroom, carrying a bag of chips and a carton of ice cream. She closed her door behind her and I thought I could hear her crying.

I wiped my hand across my face and went back to my text, mentally filing away the incident — whatever had happened — as yet another strike against Trevor. And as far as Theresa, well, I never know what to say, never know how much to push myself on others, so I let her be. And I really had to get that paper absorbed — the amount of reading my program requires is practically boundless. There is always something more to digest, some additional insight to consider.

Theresa woke early the next morning and came in the kitchen while I was eating cereal at the little table squeezed in the corner. “Will,” she said, “Tell me. Why are guys such assholes?”

The previous night’s drama resurfaced in my memories, including my ambiguity over what exactly had taken place. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I had only a couple minutes to spare, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

She collapsed in the other chair like a rag doll, face buried in her arms. “I just wanted to get laid, right? Someone to push me up against the wall and fuck my brains out. And I thought, ‘Well, Trevor’s an idiot, but he’s always talking about how much ass he gets, so he must be good for a least a quick fuck.’ But no, that stupid asshole just wanted me to blow him while he called me rude names. Who the fuck does he think he is? Gah…”

I grimaced nervously, unaccustomed to such frank discussion of sex, my eyes wide.

Theresa looked up at me, her expression equal parts anger and amusement. “And his dick was small, too!”

For lack of knowing what to say, I chuckled, a nervous sound.

“Will,” she said, “I know you’re super busy with your grad program and all, but do you date? You must get laid sometime, right?”

Suddenly, my cheeks were warm, my tongue awkward in my mouth. She’d been honest with me, though, so despite my reluctance, I felt I owed her an answer. I thought back, dredging up the memories, organizing my story. “There was this one girl, uh, last year. She was in the grad program with me. We hung out a bit, I guess.”

Theresa leaned in, interested by this rare insight into my love life. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “She dropped out of the program. Moved away for a job.”

“Oh,” she frowned, “And that was it for you?”

“Well,” I said, “If you’re counting, there was that girl at Jimmy’s birthday party, uh, Amy, I think? We fooled around a little, but we were both pretty drunk.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Who hasn’t Amy fooled around with? But anyway, Jimmy’s birthday was like six months ago. You haven’t gotten any pussy in half a year?”

“If you say so.”

“You need to get laid even worse than I do.”

Maybe she’d been hinting something when she said that, but I’m bad at taking hints. And anyway, I had an advisor meeting to get to. Even though that was the longest conversation I’d up til then had with Theresa, the weight of my looming thesis deadline didn’t afford me the energy to dwell on it, to dissect what she’d been saying without saying.

Which brings me back to now, when Theresa’s standing with her ass in my face, my fingers tracing the waistline of her pants. I run them around her side, over her flat little belly. I’m a fool, but she must want something more, right? I guide her closer to me.

“What’re you doing, Will?”

I play her coy game. “Checking these pants for flaws,” I say, “You’d hate if there were any imperfections in their manufacture.” I run my hands down her hips, expecting her to swat me away.

She doesn’t. “And are there?” she says, “Imperfections?” Her head’s turned, she’s looking down at me.

Our eyes meet as I bring my hands around her butt, squeezing her ass. “None.”

“Good.”

I grow more bold, really digging my fingers into her, groping her with nervous glee, aware that while she’s not told me to stop, neither has she granted me permission.

Theresa drops to her knees, then leans forward so she’s on all fours, spreading her knees and arching her back. Her eyes are on mine, her lips moist and parted, but I can’t look away from her crotch, can’t bring myself to stop staring at her pussy pressing through the fabric of her pants.

It may not be verbal, but if that’s not an invitation, I don’t know what is. I follow her onto the floor, kneeling behind her, running my hand down her crack and over her sex, then back up.

My dick throbs hard.

“What are you going to do?” she says, arching her back, pushing her ass out.

I grab the hem of her pants, and like a kid unwrapping a birthday gift, pull them down to her knees. Her ass is even more perfect bare, and I caress the smooth, flawless skin of her round cheeks. Her pussy lips are swollen and wet and when my fingers reach them, she gasps. I massage her clit, listening to her suck in air, seeing her chest heave.

Wordlessly, I unzip my fly and pull out my erection. I slide it against her sex, teasing her.

Her pussy reacts by growing even wetter, a bead of fluid stringing down, dripping onto the floor.

Slowly but firmly, I push myself inside her, watching her pussy lips spread around my thick shaft. Her ass slides down my meat until it rests against my hips. She’s so tight I shudder a little.

As we stay like that for a moment, she mutters, “You’re so deep.”

Reality catches up to me. I’m really doing this, I’m really fucking my roommate. This is all kinds of messy, all sorts of complicated. There will be capital-C Consequences. I grab her hips and fuck her, fast and vigorous and full of pent-up need, not caring.

She moans, sweat trickling down the small of her back as I pound away. My skin thirsts for hers, slick and full of need. My cock is in heaven, surging hard in tight, wet pussy and I guess she’s liking it, too. “Yes,” she moans, “Yes, yes, yes…”

I’m tireless, my endurance surprising me, fucking her on and on, soaking in the smell of her arousal. The novelty burns off, and the thrill of the new is washed away by a sea of pure pleasure. Crossing the boundary — sticking my dick somewhere it shouldn’t be — made me hard. But now that we’re here, doing this, there’s a naturalness I never anticipated, a harmony I would never have expected. My dick isn’t just enjoying fucking her, it’s in love.

This is why I’m not good at casual hookups.

“Turn me around,” she moans, giving me a smile that makes my heart flutter.

I have her on her back, having pulled her pants and shirt off along the way, and her smile remains. “You’re so gentle,” she says.

It’s not a complaint, I don’t think, yet neither do I think ‘gentle’ is what she wants. As I slide my cock back inside her, I grab her wrists and pin them to the floor above her head. She gasps and giggles, her chest pressing out into her white sheer bra. It’s a powerfully sexy look.

She writhes as I fuck her, but I hold her fast, and she enjoys pulling against my grip. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, “This is so hot.”

I don’t know where it comes from, but something about seeing her squirm makes me growl and fuck her rougher. I slam my hips down into her on each thrust, my balls slapping her thighs.

We fuck face-to-face, the pleasure on hers plain to see. Strands of hair plaster on her forehead, her cheeks run flush, her lips part even as they curl into a smile she can’t stop herself from making. “Where are you going to cum?” she moans.

“Where do you want?”

“Use my mouth.”

I arch an eyebrow.

Theresa giggles.

I pull off her and sit back on the couch, way back, my legs spread and cock standing slick and stiff and tall like a veiny skyscraper at my hips. She crawls forward obediently, kneeling between my thighs, running her tongue over my balls.

I grunt, pushing my dick to her mouth. She takes me in, sucking me down, licking her own pussy juice off me, and my cock swells, getting somehow even harder. I grab her ponytail, guiding her. I’m not rough, or at least, not very rough, but I control her pace, fucking her face at my own speed.

And finally, the orgasm is coming and I can hold back no longer. I push her head down as my eyelids flutter and my balls clench. I feel it, the jet of semen spraying into her mouth. Her eyes widen and cheeks bulge.

She mumbles something unintelligible as my cock surges, another powerful stream pumping into her, and then another. As my balls drain in her mouth and my shaft runs slick with its own ejaculate, she swallows trying to contain it. But when I let her go and she sits back, panting, her chin is coated in my spunk.

“Fuck…” she mutters.

I pull her up onto my lap, one hand on her ass, the other her pussy, massaging her, finishing her off with my fingers.

“You don’t have to,” she says. But she moans in rhythm to my strokes on her clit, and soon I’ve got her shuddering and writhing. It’s a sight to behold, Theresa sweaty and delirious and dripping with cum as she climaxes.

As she collapses to the couch next to me, sucking down air, she says, “What was that?”

“You needed it,” I say, “We both needed it.”

“Yeah, but…” she trails off. “Don’t make me wait so long next time. I know you’re too busy for a relationship or dating or whatever. But I’m just as horny as you, and right next door. If you want me, there’s no reason you can’t just take me.”

I’m about to object, to tell her that that’s ridiculous. But what I say instead is, “Whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want.” And she looks so earnest, so cute.

I stroke my cock, rubbing it stiff. “What if I want it again, right now?”

She spreads her legs and grins.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/12sqas3/how_i_got_a_freeuse_roommate_m26f23_sex_oral_blue