I was her summer subletter. Here’s how she became my cumslut sub. [MF] [Long]

With warm weather and blue skies finally and truly here, I thought I’d relay an account of something that happened two summers ago. I’ve had a few memorable romps over the years (I’m 27), but nothing quite like this—nothing as intense, surprising, electric, and emotionally charged (the lady involved had a serious boyfriend at the time). And I thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to write it all out so it stays intact as a delicious, detail-rich memory. No embellishments in what follows, other than some “dialogue” and approximations (where I put my hand when, etc.) which are obviously not reproduced exactly as they happened below. Read on if you’re looking for a realistic retelling that doesn’t skimp on detail.

So—late May 2016. My lease ends at the end of the month, and I’m beginning grad school in another state in September, so I’m really just looking for a limited engagement type thing to cover my living situation through summer. My craigslist search was sort of a mess, and too many of the posts gave off too sketchy a vibe (as it would be my last summer in a city that I loved, I was really angling for a nice, quiet, and clean apartment in an okay-to-decent part of town).

Through a network that curates/advertises subletting situations on the nicer side of realistic options, I found Lauren (let’s call her that). Lauren had just graduated from a good local college (I was ~four years older than her), and was seeking subletters to fill two vacancies over the summer. Perfect. One of her roommates—her boyfriend of nearly two years—had accepted an internship on the other side of the country, while her other roommate was leaving to backpack across Europe and join *her* boyfriend somewhere in Germany (not Berlin, I forget where) where he had a residency of some sort. All in all, they were a professional and hip bunch—by extension, the apartment was exactly what I was looking for. (Towards the end of my stay, I found out I was paying a few hundreds dollars more than I should have. Lauren had a hard time finding a suitable third subletter, the only other half-decent one in addition to me also being a guy—and her and (*especially*) her boyfriend were leery about her spending the summer bunking with two dudes, so they agreed to bump up the rent a little for me and absorb the remainder of the difference between themselves.. something that couldn’t have worked better in my favor, even if I was out a few hundreds dollars more by the end of it all).

Back to Lauren. She was originally from Montreal, but didn’t have too much of an accent (this occurred in the States). She was a quarter or half Asian (the other side being white), so she had a silky, milky complexion (and a slight summer tan), with straight black hair, and hazel eyes, with sparkly hints of green. About 5’7” with cute little breasts (maybe a B cup?) and an ass—at once full and pillowy while also being tight and firm—that made me clench my jaw when I first saw her from behind (and the four or five times after that as well). She had this funny energy about her where she seemed simultaneously reticent—kind of shy and reserved or mature?—but also perky and sort of energetic for pockets of time. She also had these full, delicious looking lips, and the kind of mouth that leads you to believe she’s quite adept at taking dick with it.

But between the fact that the sublet room/apartment was such a great find and her early and sort of frequent mentions of a boyfriend who I’d essentially be subletting for, I was pretty respectable and circumspect with her from the start—not flirty in any obvious way whatsoever. Our first meeting (where she effectively screened me) was pretty buttoned up, and our first few weeks living together couldn’t have been less eventful. We kept to ourselves. We were both kind, gracious, and respectful, and almost never stepped on the other’s toes—when she was using the kitchen, I was taking a shower; when I was watching a movie in the living room area, she was in her bedroom face-timing her boyfriend. Our conversation was neither colorful nor involved. Her boyfriend and our respective academic concentrations/aspirations were the two things that came up the most.

Towards the end of June, our conversation opened up slightly—her laughs grew a little louder, and we began discussing different topics (living situations, friends and social circles, and even college romance—while her boyfriend came up less and less). I even caught her allowing her gaze to linger on me a second or two longer than natural a couple of times. But, even still, things remained relatively tame and reasonably innocent. As it was quite a hot couple of weeks that late June, I took to wearing tank tops and sporty, fitted sweatpants around the house. By no means buff, I (6’1” 170 lbs) was still definitely toned, and my arms showed nicely in my tank top, while the outline of my ~7.5” (and very, very thick — likely giving it the appearance, and sensation, of being larger than it actually is) cock was sort of unmistakable in the sweatpants I began wearing almost daily.

The last day or two of June, I was sitting up in bed on my laptop in the early evening, listening to the sound of the shower water hit my wall (my room shared a wall with the bathroom). Just as I was growing slightly distracted imagining Lauren running her sudsy fingers over her perfect nipples, her glistening ass popped out as she washes the backs of her upper thighs, the shower noise became a little weird—like the water was sort of sporadically hitting the shower curtain and a wall other than the one it normally faces and shoots water against. Then—a low whimper, followed by a soft moan. I was already hard and stroking myself before I consciously realized what was happening. I have no real way of knowing for sure if we came at the same time, but it sort of sounded like we did. After that night, I looked at her a little differently.

Over the next couple of days, we were increasingly warmer and more open/comfortable with one another—before she was headed out to see friends one night, she invited me to finish most of a six pack of beer she left behind in the fridge. I had to leave town for July 4th weekend around that time, and she expressed a half-polite, half-cute kind of regret when I let her know I’d be gone for a few days.

Upon returning, things were definitely different. I’ll go ahead and fast forward to the night they irrevocably became so.

I was finishing up some contract work one Thursday afternoon, and she’d casually swung by, asking me what I was doing that night. Work, I replied, thanking her for the offer and reassuring her “some other time.” Not even a full hour later and I was already regretting not taking her up on whatever it is I might’ve gotten up to with her had I replied differently. Another hour and I caved, texting her “what up,” and that I was freed up from work and was getting a little antsy holed up in the place, was looking to hang out.

She replied maybe a half hour later: “Come!”

“Where!” I reply, with a smily face—guessing she’d already been drinking.

She apologizes, “lols,” and gives me the address, telling me it “actually kind of sucks” and that she only knows “like two people here” but that there’s lots of free liquor and beer (a rich kid and rising senior at the college she just graduated from).

I arrived within the hour, and spotted her almost at once. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that, by the time I arrived, neither of us really knew anyone there, but we totally opened up to one another, almost immediately. Just exploded in a chatty exuberance, joking, laughing, flirting. Peppered throughout our conversation were various “tells,” which increased in frequency and intensity with the approach of midnight. She began to complain about her boyfriend, his busyness, and even his longstanding jealousy. I prodded her on the jealousy, which prompted her to grow sort of red in the face—turns out she’d told him I was “sorta hot” one night when she’d had a few beers, and he’s long had some confidence/jealousy problems, owing to his inability to last more than a couple of minutes in bed. Before I could fully take in all this information, and still on the topic of her boyfriend and sex, she also apologized to me if I had “heard her with her toy.” I definitely hadn’t heard her, other than that one time in the shower (which I hadn’t yet told her about) and proceeded to tease and press her, asking questions and so on. Apparently her boyfriend ordered her a dildo online a week or so after he left town, and that it was “around his size,” (about five inches or so), which again sort of pointed back toward his confidence issues (she didn’t have too much romantic experience before him, and he likely didn’t want her getting used to anything different from what he was packing).

I teased her that the size of her toy was “probably why I couldn’t hear you,” and then I advised her to size up so I could (hear her). She sort of rested her hand on my arm, grinning freely, red in the face, and let me know that I’d be the first, and likely only, to find out if and when she did (size up in toys). Almost as soon as she said this, she immediately apologized for “being weird,” and that she’d keep quiet going forward, etc. I assured her that I wasn’t kidding, and that I found it really hot when you “went at it in the shower before I went away for the fourth of July,” sort of intimating that I’d gotten myself off to listening her masterbate with the shower head. Up to this point she’d been simultaneously goofy, embarrassed, and giddy for the past half hour or so of conversation. Almost suddenly, though, she seemed to sober up. “I’m not sure it’s wise for us to go on talking like that,” she said, growing timid, even sort of stoic, before running off to get us another couple of bottles of beer.

Immediately I was regretting having taken a step too far. Hoping that I didn’t mess up the easy atmosphere we’d built up in the apartment over the previous weeks.

As she returned, I blurted out an apology (as I said, I was mainly looking to maintain an easy, stress-free living situation). She stopped me all at once. “Hey,” she said, her eyes lingering on my chest, rising them up over my face and meeting mine. There was a pause in her voice, and she wasn’t exactly smiling. “Let’s play a game,” she suggested.

She told me to go to the bathroom and wait. She said she’d finish her beer—“a few minutes,” she said. If she didn’t knock on the bathroom door and join me inside by then, we would forget everything we’ve discussed tonight — truly forget (she made me promise) — and we’d basically not hang out with any alcohol involved for the remainder of summer, agreeing that it sort of opened the flood gates on some stuff that was maybe best left untroubled. *But,* if she *did* join me, she said, drawing our her words slowly, “we’d see.”

Four minutes or so later she bursts inside, without knocking, and immediately started aggressively kissing me. This—this was my green light to drop the polite, accommodating roommate act, and inaugurate her into something else completely (later that summer, she told me she only intended to kiss me, and stop there). Her arms were resting on my shoulders, mine wrapped around her lower back at first, before drifting down to her awe-inspiring ass, which I squeezed to my heart’s content, letting out an audible groan as I did so. After a minute or so I was really starting to fill out in my pants—she wasn’t feeling me with her hands but was moving her hips around, rubbing herself against my hardening cock, sort of giggling and whimpering all the while.

All at once, and startling her no doubt, I spun her around, unbuttoned her denim cutoffs, and pushed my left hand into her crotch, softly feeling her up, almost teasing her at first, before I began messily smearing circles into her clit, over her panties, which prompted her to coo and wiggle in my embrace, while I brought my right hand up and wrapped it around her throat, holding her body firmly up against mine, so that her shoulder blades were pressing against my chest. When I began to hear a wet, sort of squishy sound from her warm, wet sex, I introduced my fingers into her panties, which caused her to quiver and moan, while I used my lips, teeth, and tongue, to devour her neck.

“Just you can’t fuck me, okay?” she managed between moans, before orgasming almost thunderously in my hands.

Her legs noticeably weak, I ordered her to get down on her knees. “Take me in your mouth,” I said, her look obedient and hungry, her eyelids heavy with after-tremors of pleasure. She took me out of my pants and just cradled my cock in her hands for about a minute, alternately planting soft kisses on my head, my shaft, and the base of my cock, just staring at it, and looking up at me, jerking it slowly.

“Take me in your *fucking* mouth,” I breathed, harder than I’ve been in ages.

She opened wide and took me in brilliantly, within a minute she’d already gotten more than half of me in her mouth, massaging the bottom of my cock with her tongue, letting me push down on the back of her head, helping her take in more, tears beginning to roll down her eyes.

A minute later and I was fucking her face—she was doing an incredible job, and much of what she was doing she was doing (I later found out) for the first time. I’d drank quite a bit, and so didn’t feel so close to coming—and since the knocks on the bathroom door were getting a bit loud, we sort of both spontaneously decided to duck out of the party. Saliva plastered across the lower half of her face, tears and redness from crying marking the upper half. She splashed water from the faucet on her face, and buttoned up her shorts, before coming up against me—“We can’t fuck but.. fuck..” she whispered in a breathy voice, grabbing my still-hard cock through my pants, and practically licked my face, prompting me to laugh.

In the uber home her hand was bolted to my cock, massaging me, though we barely said a word the whole ride.

When we got to the apartment—I’m not sure if she sobered up from the alcohol or sobered up to the realization of what she had done: effectively cheating, quite seriously, with her loved and loving boyfriend of two years. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she began to say, facing the other direction, as I had just removed my pants, throwing them onto the couch across from the TV. I hummed drunkenly, causing her to look back toward me, her eyes seizing on my bulge, widening, and she smiled, half rolling her eyes, quietly murmuring “Fuck it,” as she slowly approached.

I pushed her against the wall and dropped her shorts to her ankles, pushing onto the small of her back, causing her back to arch, and her ass pop out toward me. I buried my face into her from behind, running my tongue along her fragrant, almost floral smelling lips, and ate her out from behind. When she was dripping wet, I began fucking her with two fingers, at first softly, before long quite hard, alternating biting her cheeks and spanking her ass all the while (this drove her mad).

Spanking her one last time, letting out a resounding crack throughout the living room, I let out a sentence I couldn’t possibly have imagined directing her way just hours prior. I said it anyway, and without really thinking. With Lauren having orgasmed twice in about an hour already, and positively drunk from pleasure (if not also from the beer), it was not hard to see how I got away with it. “Now take me in your mouth like a good little slut.” I pushed down my pants and boxer briefs in one go, and she quickly spun around and felt to her knees in one smooth motion. Without any hesitation. With the utmost obedience . She opened her mouth as wide as she could, and ran her tongue under the bottom of my cock, inviting me with her eyes to take firm hold of her head. And so I did, grabbing a fistful of her silken hair.

I fucked her mouth and made her beg for my cum. I didn’t fuck her that night, but I came all over her dripping wet pussy. She went on to rub her pussy, smearing my cum all around (she was on BC). She later told me that the sensation of my hot cum hitting her sex like that was tantalizing, and was instrumental in wearing away at her resolve against allowing someone other than her boyfriend fill her warm, tight cunt.

After that evening she was addicted. As was I.

I’ll end here, as I’ve gone *way* longer than I anticipated. Not cutting my story up into segments to get more “points” — just, for me, so much of the sweetness is in the detail, so I’m not particularly inclined to briskly skip over it. And I’m also not really looking to write a novel in the space of one single post.

But, anyway: **TLDR — I sublet a room two summers ago in an apartment with a fairly shy, mature, and really sexy recent college grad, who at the time was in a longterm, serious relationship. After weeks of respectful politeness, we went from 0 to 60 in the space of about a couple hours. And I turned her into my little cum-addicted cockslut by the end of the night. Things only got better — crazier and more creative, more sordid and debuached — as the summer wore on.**

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8pyb8f/i_was_her_summer_subletter_heres_how_she_became