âŠyouâre in a bind. youâre starting sophomore year at your college, but something went wrong while you were signing up and registering for the dorms; youâve got another month, max, to stay in the dorms before you have to leave. so naturally you get to looking for a new place, but its too late in the season for most places. youâre talking with your friends who live off campus, and your plug is the only person whoâs got room; you didnât even ask her, she just heard you talking to a friend at a party and shot you the same stupid smirk she always gives you and told you sheâd be happy to take on a new roomie. she could use the company, she says. you donât hate her, but⊠you just canât really bring yourself to let your guard down around her. she feels unsafe, dangerously unpredictable, and thatâs not even talking about what people say of her. you donât know if she even still goes her anymore, or if sheâs just in town now. so you check with your other friends: no. your acquaintances: no. you donât even hear back from some. so as much as it weirds you out, even if it makes your heart pound, you have to take her up on her word, and you move in within a couple weeks.
itâs pretty much exactly what you expect when you do finally come over, out of all your other options; a little messy, a few clothes and flannels left here and there draped over furniture. the whole place smell like her. and while sheâs not asking for a huge rent, of course, you recognize how her eyes linger on you, the way she smiles when she talks about having you here. youâre not dumb. you know what she wants. but she canât make you give it to her, and the lock on your door helps that peace of mind.
and then⊠embarrassingly, nothing. well, almost nothing, nothing to you; she doesnât linger around you, she isnât going through your things, she doesnt badger you to join her parties. almost a model roommate. but every weekend, sometimes in the middle of the week too, she brings home a girl or two. sometimes youâre out of your room and see them come home, catch that same dumb smirk she likes to give you as she leads them deeper inside by the small of their backs, but most of the time, you just hear them. you hear a lot. you used to try and tune it out, but you keep⊠forgetting lately. you tell yourself itâs because youâre looking out for the girls, listening into their laughter fading to quieter, sweeter sounds in case thereâs a cry for help. but it never comes, even when its people you know, people youâd never think would come here. but they just let her do what she wants, and you listen to every minute of their hesitation melt away into need, each little peak of their voice, the gasp when she pushes inside. youâve heard her with enough that you recognize it, one of the last clear sounds before it blurs together under the rhythm she pounds them with; something about it makes your heart go chill and race. your most common refrain as you lie against the wall beside your bed and rub yourself is why would she debase herself like this? she doesnât want this, she doesnât like this sort of thing, why does she come? why doesnât she stop? itâs all you can think about as you pant and listen to another strong womanâs voice shaking so weak between the slaps of flesh against flesh. sheâs using her like a hole, you think, and tingly heat pulses through you in a wave, clutches at your heart. shes a good, upstanding lesbian, and sheâs letting your pervy roommate rearrange her insides anyway. you cum all over your hand thinking about how good itd feel to be made into one of her bitches, her balls slapping your cunt while she thuds as deep inside as she needs again and again. doing whatever she pleases with you.
you bump into each other the next morning like you always do, and while you canât meet her gaze, you know the grin sheâs giving you. you try not to care, and you donât let show, but it still makes you squirm. so later that night you finally decide to confront her. you knock at her room and she welcomes you in; the bed takes up most of the space, and air in here smells strongly of her, incense, pot, sex. you stammer through your issue as your face reddens, telling her sheâs welcome to do what she likes but that you have to get up in the mornings, that you really shouldnât be missing this sleep. all you get at first is a laugh as she eases herself closer. really? you donât like what you hear? the question catches you completely off guard, and youre too scandalized to stop her as she coils an arm around you. i know how thin the walls are. you just get too curious? let your thoughts wander one too many times? it could be you, if you let it. you donât have to stay up late wanting if you get what you need. hands, hot and heavy on your hips, sliding up and laying you back. your hearts in your throat and you canât talk, so as much as you hate it, you just turn your head away and let her nudge your legs apart. you donât want her to hear you any weaker than she already has, and sheâs so warm against you, her dick almost feels like a hot iron on your stomach. you shouldnât be here; youâve never hardly thought about dick until these past couple weeks; but here you are. and gay or not, you give a sweet, pained gasp of need when it starts pushing inside, just like any of her other sluts. it makes your thoughts fuzzy and your cunt drip, too much to do anything more than lie back, pant like a bitch in heat, and let her claim every inch of your unused cunt. you didnât even realize you had the spots sheâs hitting, let alone how to hit them like her dick does, thick and eager, throbbing inside with its own want. when sheâs finally stretched you enough to take her deep and let her pound you right, all you can think of is how right it feels being full like this, how overwhelmingly sheâs taking you. how good it feels to be mated. youll hate how often to get off to this memory later, but maybe some things canât compare to the real deal after all đ
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