ou’re sharing an apartment with a hot girl who doesn’t really have a boyfriend.
As the weeks pass, you get comfortable with each other. Clothing becomes more casual, even missing sometimes. Bathroom etiquette pretty much goes away.
You both find yourselves dateless on a Saturday, so you decide on movies and liquor and bitching about your sex lives. It’s August; it’s hot; you have no air conditioner.
By 10, you’re both wearing just undies. She has really nice tits. You’re half in the bag, so you tell her so.
She giggles and cups them; turning to you on the couch and duck-facing you.
Pop quiz, hot shot: what do you do?
Do you make a move? You’re both drunk, you’re both flirting. It’s a dateless Saturday night.
No brainer, right?
Let’s see what happens if you let lust and whiskey do you thinking for you.
There she is, lips puckering, eyes closed, breasts held out for your delectation, nipples erect. There’s a blush to her cheeks and her upper chest.
You lean in and lick a nipple, pinching the other with your hand.
She gasps and grabs your head, pulling it closer.
Your jockey shorts are suddenly way too tight.
She helps with that, reaching in and freeing your cock and balls. She stokes one and gently squeezes the others.
Giving her nipple one last nibble, you move up to her face. Her breath, quickening, smells of rum and coke. Her lips seem fuller. Her eyes are shiny and half closed. Her tongue gently wrestles with yours as those lips, moist and silky, slide along yours.
You let your hands wander down her back, under the elastic band of her panties (torn grannies she wears around the apartment; they’ve never done anything to distract from the magnificent heart-shaped ass you finally have your mitts on).
She breaks the kiss and pants in your ear.
All this while her hands; fluttering on your shaft, tickling your scrotum; have been driving you insane. Time for more decisive action. You lean back on the arm of the couch, taking her head in your hands. You guide her face down to you cock.
The first touch of her lips on the skin of your dick sends a tingling racing over your body. Her hand never stops its massaging of your balls. Her other reaches further into your shorts, looking for your anus. She’s having a bit of trouble. Impatiently, you pull your jockeys off, grunting. She hangs on to the shaft of your cock, looking up at you. The glaze of desire in her brown eyes; her lips slicked with saliva pull back from her teeth as she smiles at you.
Finally, you’re naked. You lay back and watch first the head of your erection, then the shaft slide past those lips; it is your fantasy come to life. Her tongue presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves just behind the head, with every pump of her head down you cock. Her hand continues to knead your balls. A finger of the other, moistened with saliva, works its way up you bumhole, where it begins to rub your prostate.
Delicious sensations from three points soon have you writhing on the couch, moaning and calling out her name and “yes”, “faster”, “right there!” until you know you’re going to lose it. You raise your head to see her short stroking the end of your cock with her mouth, eyes look up and right into yours.
“I’m cumming!” you pant, breathily, expecting her to withdraw her mouth. You’ve had fantasies of blowing a load all over that face for weeks, now.
Instead,she descends and you feel the head of your cock squeeze past the tight entrance of her throat. The finger up your asshole begins to punish your prostate and her other hand makes a fist around your balls, pulling on your scrotum—hard. She works your dick with the muscles of her throat, making sounds halfway between gagging and loud swallowing. She looks up at you; watering eyes and flushed cheeks push you past the point of no return.
You try, but fail to maintain eye contact as your consciousness is erased by ecstasy. You arch your back, head hitting the arm of the couch hard, and howl as wave after wave of orgasm overtakes you. You can feel blasts of semen shooting from the head of your cock directly down her throat.
After seven or eight of them, the wave subsides and awareness returns. Your dick is still buried; and now the head is very sensitive. It begins to hurt. You start to moan. She divines the reason and unimpales her face.
Gasping for air, saliva running from her mouth, she gives you a piercing stare and a grin. “My turn,” she purrs.
To Be Continued…
February 2013 e.v.
Pingback: Fucking Your Roomie, Part Two | Alchemy of the Word
Pingback: Fucking Your Roomie, the Conclusion | Alchemy of the Word