Loading...I slipped into my dorm room after my calculus class. Sunlight poured through the blinds in narrow streams that set the ambient dust aglow in the air. Tiny motes of golden light curtained the room, made it hard to see. I stumbled towards my bed, tripping over clothes and shoes.
Guys’ shoes.
I wasn’t able to stop the gasp when I saw my roommate.
Sara was lying on her back with her legs splayed. Her boyfriend, Jeff, laid off to one side, his knees around one of hers. They were both naked, and the sheets lay pushed at the foot of her bed. The signs of hot, steamy sex were everywhere. Sweat, both from the sex and the heat in our room, cast a sheen on Sara’s skin. Her naked sex gleamed from her wetness and Jeff’s semen. I could see it trailing from her, pooling on the sheet beneath her ass. I’d seen her naked in the shower, of course, but I’d never imagined her open pussy to be so beautiful, especially with her boyfriend’s love smeared over her. Trails of his cum followed her stomach up nearly to her breasts, which meant he must have spent part of his ejaculate outside of her, and still more trailed along her thigh towards the knee he was straddling. His flaccid manhood lay shriveled and wet atop her knee.
The sight paralyzed me. I’m not normally turned on by other people having sex. Or the aftereffects. My own experiences were pretty limited, and disappointing. Yet here I was, transfixed by the sight of a woman, my own roommate, in all her sensual glory. When I looked up at Sara’s face again, her eyes were open, watching me. Her face was blank. Was she not yet awake? Did she simply not know what to think? Or did she not care?
I dropped my books on my bed, pulled my backpack from the bed-post, and grabbed my tank-top, shorts, and running shoes. I could change in the shower.
Ten minutes later, I stood outside the dorm, still mesmerized by the carnal vision of my roommate. I wasn’t bi. I swear. I liked porn about as much as any other horny twenty-year-old, but I watched for the guys, for the sex. I’d never really paid attention to the women, except perhaps to wonder if my breasts were as appealing to men or not, or if when I moaned, I sounded as silly as the girls in the movies. Lame, huh? Well, I wasn’t into women.
But damn, she was pretty. What if I had touched her? I imagined sliding my finger through the furrow of her cum-smeared pussy. What would it taste like, their mingled juices? How would it feel if it was my pussy? My boyfriend? There’s a stretch. I’m too athletic and assertive for most men. I like to joke that I give them penis envy. Funny, though, sometimes, from their reactions to my attitudes, I think I might be more right than I know.
When I saw some freshmen staring at me, I realized I had drifted off right in the doorway. I shouldered my pack, then set out for the gym at a jog. It’s close to two miles there, so I enjoyed a good run. When I got there, my genitals felt hot, and my nether lips slipped across each other a little more freely than normal. Even while I ran, my mind continued to return to the scene of Sara on the bed, her boyfriend’s seed on her body, in her body. My own fluids rose like honey squeezed between bread. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. In the gym, I worked out on a bike, did some light aerobic weights, and played three games of racquetball. An hour and a half later, when I was signing out, the brunette attendant gave me a grin.
“You must have been enjoying yourself.”
Her eyes were on my tank, where my nipples jutted proudly in spite of my small breasts. I shrugged.
“He was cute.”
And with that, I left.
In what must have been some sort of cosmic joke, it started to rain while I walked home. I shook my head against the heavy, cold drops and walked onward. I was too tired to run more, and to a point, the cool rain felt good. Soon I was drenched. I forgot about Sara for a bit as I made my way down the street in the downpour, but I remembered on the way up to my room, so I knocked before entering.
Sara wore a thin bathrobe when she opened the door. I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I followed her into the room and dropped my soaked pack on the floor at the foot of my bed. Other than my vivid memories, there was no sign of Jeff. I gathered some lose clothes to spend the evening studying and without a word started for the showers.
It was dark in my room when I returned. Sara sat on her bed with the desk-lamp burning and the curtains closed. She was reading a novel. Her robe parted in the front, and I could see one of her nipples. Small and light in color, it peaked out as if to watch me. Her robe was thin and short, so with her knees drawn up, I might have been able to see more. Only, the stark shadows of the lamp left her pussy shrouded in darkness. Was it disappointment I felt?
I put my dirty clothes in the hamper and pulled out my calculus book. I knew I should do the assignments while the lecture was fresh in my mind. The only thing was, Sara had completely flushed away the lecture, and all I could think about was her naked beauty. Why? Why did it stick with me like that? It was like something I’d expect a guy to do. It was weird. And somehow, it was exciting. Sinful. Like that one time I’d given a boyfriend the birthday present of a blow job.
Thoughts of Greg turned sour quickly. He’d cheated on me, and then dumped me. Bastard. It was so easy to hate him, but a small part of me wondered why I hadn’t been enough for him.
“What are you thinking over there, Amber?”
Sara had sat up, now on the edge of her bed, and straightened her robe to a semblance of propriety. I still couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Differentials,” I lied.
“Calculus,” she laughed. “Yuck.”
She got up, walked over, and sat on my bed. “Listen, about earlier…”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I knew my face must have been ten shades of red.
Sara laughed. “It’s okay, Amber. I swear.”
“I should have knocked.”
“No, it’s alright. We shouldn’t have gone to sleep. It’s just…we were so relaxed after. Jeff doesn’t know you saw him, so don’t say anything.”
Wait. She wasn’t mad? She didn’t even sound embarrassed. And she hadn’t mentioned it to the boyfriend?
Sara’s face reddened. “Now, there’s another matter we need to discuss.” She looked down, keeping her eyes on the floor beside my bed.
I waited. Her face darkened more.
“I’m curious,” she finally began. “What were you thinking while you were staring at me?”
I swallowed. Was I that transparent? It figured. The most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me, and there was no way I could cover it up. I gritted my teeth and prepared for the worst dose of teasing I had ever gotten. Would she spread it around campus? I had never thought of her this way, but with this one question, she made me doubt everything I knew about her. I had to take control of this situation, somehow.
“You’re pretty – down there,” I told her. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
There. That was it. A compliment, first to distract her and then to make it okay that I had been looking. Now if only I didn’t turn into a faucet and leak out all over my bed.
The look Sara gave me lingered somewhere between stunned disbelief and a sort of excited pride. Had I pleased her so much with my compliment?
“I can’t believe you said that about me,” she whispered. Her face darkened. “I’ve always thought I was so…so…normal. Everywhere.”
I grinned at her. It wasn’t completely false.
“If I were a photographer already, I’d love to take your picture.”
Her picture. Nude pictures? Was I going down a good road, or one that led to danger? The kind of danger where everyone in the dorm laughs when my back is turned. I could hear it already. Amber, the dyke pornographer.
Sara laughed, but it wasn’t the harsh laugh I expected. “I could never pose like that. It’s so…dirty.” Her “dirty” sounded like “wickedly sinful” to me. Where to go with it?
I put my books aside and sat on the edge of the bed with her. She smelled fresh, of lavender and a soft spice I couldn’t make out.
“How did you feel,” I asked her, careful to not actually touch her yet, “when you were lying there, all full of sex and contentment, and I was standing there watching you? You weren’t upset. You weren’t shy, then. You were on display. How did it feel?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Kind of exciting, I suppose.”
“Exciting? How? Like if Jeff had been watching you?”
Sara frowned gently, thoughtfully. “No, not really like that. I’m comfortable with Jeff. If it had been him, I would have wanted to touch him and…well, you know.”
Was that disappointment I felt? She didn’t want to touch me, the way I so desperately wanted to touch her. What, then, did she want?
“I felt glamorous,” she said. “Like a pornstar, only the kind all the men drool over.”
I nodded sagely. “You could do it. You’re already liking the idea, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re beautiful, Sara. I’d love to see pictures of you, if I were a guy.”
Her eyes narrowed, her blush faded, and her mouth went flat, with the quirks of a smile on one side.
“It looked to me like you weren’t concerned with the fact that you’re a girl.”
It was my turn to blush. My face grew so hot it almost stung. I looked down at the floor. “Like I said, you’re pretty, down there.”
She bit her lip, giggled. “Let’s do it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Take pictures. I’ll do it, but you have to let me take pictures of you, too. At least one.”
Could I do it? Could I strip like that? Show her my body, let her take a picture? More?
“I have an idea,” I said, after nodding my agreement. “I have a project where I have to shoot something in the rain. Let’s go up on the roof, where there’ll be no one else, and we’ll do the pictures there.”
Her eyes widened delightfully. “Outside?”
“On the roof,” I said quickly. “This is one of the tallest buildings in the complex. No one will see us, I promise. I’ve worked up there before.” I considered what I had just said. “Well, not like this…”
Sara laughed. “Uh huh. Yeah, right. I get the feeling you’ve been a naughty girl.”
Not really. It seemed I was turning into a naughty girl, but up until this point, I’d been fairly simple. The vision of Sara’s semen-filled pussy returned, vividly, and I suddenly found myself short of breath. Not so simple any longer.
I got up and got my rain coat, my trusty digital camera with the clear, waterproof rain guard. When I was finished, Sara was still sitting on my bed.
“What should I wear?”
I pursed my lips. “The rain isn’t that cold. Go like that. I’ll grab some towels.”
She got up and re-tied her robe for going outside. I saw a flash of pink. I trembled with the excitement of what we were about to do.
I’ll never know how we got to the top of the roof without being seen. I had a key because I had permission to be on the roof for certain photography assignments. When I had locked the door behind me, the full effect of the rainy roof hit me. It was colder than I had remembered, and Sara bit her lip and lowered her head against the downpour. It wasn’t a deluge, by any means, but it was constant enough to make looking around uncomfortable. I guided her across a narrow walkway to a spot sheltered from the wind and much of the rain by a large air-conditioner assembly. Lucky for us, it also hid us from the upper floors of the other tall dormitories. The only people who could see us would be on distant sky-scrapers, and then they’d have to have powerful telescopes. Or a helicopter. I figured we would hear a helicopter long before they could see us.
Sara stood in front of me, crossed her arms. Her robe was drenched, and I could see the peaks of her nipples through the thin cotton. Her face showed a mixture of cocky defiance and self-indulgent patience. I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her.
“What do you want me to do?”
I had her stand with her hands clasped behind her, and with her head down, almost as if in prayer. I turned on my camera, adjusted the settings for the type of light, and the images I wanted to capture. I snapped off a few shots of her like that, mostly for my project. I had her lift her face to the rain for a few images, then tilt her head to one side, for shots where her wet hair partially obscured her left eye. I asked her for different expressions, some happy, some sour, some blank, and some sultry. When I asked for sultry, she smiled softly, then touched her upper lip with her tongue and lowered her head just a little. She looked at the roof between us for effect, the raised her eyes right to me, almost demurely. Perfect. I told her so.
Sara blushed. “You’re only saying that because you want to take dirty pictures of me.”
I shook my head. “I’ll show you some awesome portraits after we’re done, I promise. This is going to be for my grade.”
She giggled, but said no more.
“All right,” I said. “Are you ready to spice this up.”
She bit that lip again.
“Run your fingers down the inside of your robe, but go slow, so I can get a lot of pics.”
She did what I asked. When she got to her belt, she slowly untied it. I waited, knowing that the untying would not be so appealing on camera. In video, maybe, but not pictures. Not for me. Sara’s robe parted with the gentle breezes and the rain. While I snapped image after image, her right breast came into view, at first just her nipple, then more. Why did I salivate, then? She looked perfect for suckling, tilted upwards just a bit, neither too large nor too small. A smallish ‘c’ cup, maybe. Perfect. Juicy. Quivering slightly as she moved.
At my suggestion, she parted her robe more, showing me an excellent view of both nipples, then put her hands down and turned partially to the side.
“Tease one of your nipples,” I told her.
“Oh, no,” she laughed. “You have to show as much as me, first.”
I giggled, felt a rush of heat between my thighs. Could I do it? Expose myself so blatantly? To a woman who was doing the same?
I lowered my camera, let it hang by a strap. My pajama shirt had buttons, so I started at the bottom and un-buttoned them, slowly, pausing between each one. Sara blinked the rain out of her eyes and watched me with a sort of hungry patience. Her eyes devoured my navel like a man’s would have, like a starved wolf eyeing a hock of ham. Did I look like that to her? I found that I hoped I did.
I was wearing a bra under my pajamas. It was a plain, white thing, with a thin fringe of lace over the tops of the cups. Before my breasts came into view, I reached behind me and unfastened the clasp. I pulled first one arm out of my sleeve, and out of the bra, then reinserted it in the sleeve. I dropped my bra to the roof. Sara grinned at me.
I smiled back at her, then unbuttoned the last two buttons. I pulled my top apart over my chest, letting either side drape down beside my breasts. It was wildly exhilarating to be bare-breasted atop the roof, out in the open in the pouring rain. Sara laughed.
“I knew you could do it.”
I lifted my camera. “All right. Let me see you tease that nipple, bitch.”
Sara cackled, but she complied. She brought her finger up, lifted her nipple with just the edge of her finger until the sweetly hanging mass of her tit pulled it back down. It jiggled after it fell. I captured as much of process as I could, but the jiggle was consigned to memory alone. It was beautiful, and I gasped.
“Your turn,” she said as she made little pinching motions on her breast. Some of them pinched only her nipples, while others caught quite a bit of her breast, as if she held it out to be sucked. How I wanted to close my lips around her rain-streaked skin. Where and when had I transformed into such a lesbian slut?
I held my plastic-encased camera aside with my left hand. With my now free right hand, I stroked my fingertips up over my ribs to my right breast. Sparks of electric lust shot up my chest, tracing up my neck like invisible shadows of my own fingertips. More raced down through my core to the already surging heat at my cervix. My breath came short, so I panted through my mouth. I’d never done this with a man. How could I want a woman so intently? Before today, I’d never even really thought about same-gender sex, except for the sparse ‘gay-jokes’ that forever haunt certain unfortunate people.
How could my pussy be so hot for this room-mate of mine?
Soon I was pinching my nipple like she was. Sara lifted her other hand and did the same with both breasts.
“Hey, wait,” I laughed. I raised my camera again and started taking more pictures. “Pull your robe off your shoulders,” I called.
She grinned lewdly, blew me a kiss, and pulled the collar down off her neck, off her shoulders. The loosening belt let the front of her robe come apart even further, and I could see a line all the way down past her navel to the pocket between her lower abdomen and her left thigh. I could just barely see the rise of that side of her pubis. I snapped more shots of everything, then tweaked my nipple again. My fingers were hot, and the contrast between the cool rain and my own heat was intoxicating.
“Are you ready,” I asked.
“For what?”
“Show me the rest. Let’s have it. My camera is hungry for you.”
Sara lowered her head slowly. “I told you, not until you join me. Take your pants off.”
I bit my lip. “You take them off. I’ll take pictures.”
She strutted towards me. Her belt loosened again, and I could almost see her groin as she swayed across the roof to me. I took pictures as she walked, quickly adjusting my lens. She knelt in front of me and brought her hands up to my hips. I kept on taking pictures, but I knew I had messed some of them up because my attention wavered when her fingers slipped into the waistband of my pants. She didn’t just grab my pajama pants. She grabbed my panties too, and I knew it was on purpose. I tried to keep taking pictures as she slowly tugged first one side and then the other down until she was past my hips. My pants and panties hung free at that point, and her hand rose back up my thigh as I stepped out of them, my pussy and ass mostly naked on the rooftop. I squealed as her hand grazed the hair on the side of my vulva, but I was backing away as I stepped clear of my clothes, so she missed. Sara bit her lip as I kept snapping pictures of her.
“Now it is your turn,” I yelled, laughing.
She shook her head. “The stakes are going up. If you want to see more, you’ve got to do more.”
Payment for sex. Which one of us was the whore?
“Like what?” My pussy dripped as I wondered what sorts of sinful ‘more’ she had in mind.
“Well, for starters, I get to take pictures of your lovely ass, girl.”
I blinked. I licked my lips. With shaky hands, I lifted the camera strap off my neck and over my head. I handed it to her. She took it with a pleased smile, dropped the strap over her head, and lifted it to her face. I found myself staring into my own camera. She moved slightly to one side, to get me from an angle as I stood there. Because she was so close, I knew she was taking a picture of my face.
Then, after three or four shots, she backed up. She snapped another picture. I sucked in a breath. My naked breasts were now saved on my camera, right alongside the pictures of Sara. If possible, it made me wetter.
“Take off your top,” she commanded. “I want to see you completely naked.”
She wanted? Was this just to recompense her own stripping and seductive playing for my camera? I hoped it was something more.
I glanced around the rooftop. I couldn’t help it. The reflex notion that someone else might see me naked was overpowering. It was also seductive. There was a risk, and the risk was appealing, almost like I wanted to be seen. That’s what lust comes down to, I think. To see, and to be seen. To touch and be touched. To taste… right. Anyway…
Sara took several photos of me while I pulled my pajama shirt down over my shoulders. I dropped it behind me on the wet roof. I was wearing only my wet socks. She took more pictures, then handed me my camera.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, sliding her soaked robe off her shoulders and dropping it behind her much as I had. I adjusted my lens and snapped several quick shots. I wasn’t ready to respond to her praise. I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“Stretch for me,” I said.
She lifted her arms and reached towards the sky, her hands together but not clasped. Elegant. Demure. I photographed the way her breasts stretched with her, the way one of her feet slid behind the other as she stood on her toes and arced her back, the way her thighs closed over her sex as if to hug it tightly. The rain was not heavy, but it washed down over her skin, magnifying every curve, every teasing glimpse of her nipples. I thought I might drool when she turned her back to me and I watched the rain stream down into the groove of her ass.
I said, “God, Sara, you look so fuckable.” I wasn’t even thinking. The words just poured out.
I was watching her through my lens, so I got her reaction on film. She had been watching her hands, but she lowered her head as she lowered her weight to her heels. Her face was down, low, almost angry, and she looked at me through her thin, arched brows. Her face darkened with a sultry hunger, her eyes fierce and bright, her lips parted to pant. I tweaked my lens and squeezed the shutter button on my camera, taking image after image as she tilted her head slightly, lowered her arms, and stepped towards me. Her feet moved like a cat’s, picking her way across the rooftop with an agile grace I imagined resembled that of a dancer. I loved her feet, and I took more pictures of her arches and toes on the wet roof.
I lowered my camera when she came close. By then she was walking faster, her hips swaying, again as if in a dance. When she was close enough, she pushed my camera to the side with one hand, caught the back of my neck with the other hand, and pulled me into a kiss. Her lips were hot beneath the cool film of rain-water dousing her face. Hot and soft, and they parted, hungry, to let her tongue pass. Into my mouth she drove, and I into hers. Her insides scalded my tongue, seared me as if by flame, and she pushed me backwards with the force of her kiss. Pausing long enough to hang my camera from a bolt on the rooftop machinery, I returned to her arms and her kiss. She pulled me tighter, and my nipples grazed the tops of her breasts. When she pulled me even closer, her nipples slid beneath my breasts, teased the soft undersides of my mounds. One of her knees slipped between mine. One of her hands swept from my shoulder blades, down along my spine, to my buttocks, where she kneaded me with light, hungry strokes. My own hands drifted across her spine, from shoulder to her soft, very touchable ass. I was an athlete, so my body was firm, perhaps overly hard, but she was soft in all the right ways, soft and beautiful.
Sara broke the kiss, trailed her lips along my cheek, down the side of my neck. My breath came short, and I tilted my head back in enjoyment of the soft caress of her lips drifting to my shoulder. She guided me to a small component of the air conditioning unit, where she sat me on the cold metal. She guided my hips so that I sat on the edge of the machinery. I spread my legs for her as she knelt between me. Her face was at chest level, so I leaned down to kiss her more.
With one cupped hand, Sara held the back of my neck, pulling my lips to hers with gentle but determined force. Her hunger infected me, pulled at me. She wanted me, and so I wanted her more. Her lips drifted away from me again, sucking at the rainy wetness on my neck. She slurped her way down to my collarbone, then kissed to my left breast. I sucked in an urgent breath as her lips closed around my nipple. It was a small bite with her lips, at first, but then she sucked me into her, where she lashed her hot, wet tongue across the rain-cooled skin of my tit. I squirmed in agonizing ecstasy. My pussy surged with my own inner wetness. Had we not already been soaked, I think I would have left a puddle on the painted steel of the machinery where I sat.
She squeezed my other breast with her free hand, then pushed me into a reclining position so that she leaned over my groin. I felt her breath on my pussy just before her tongue slipped into my fur and lightly teased my clit. I was already so hot and wet, I couldn’t feel the moisture on her tongue. Just hot, pressure, the gentle, urgent lavishing o f a woman’s need. It was the sort of thing I’d never felt from any of my boyfriends in the past.
At first she simply touched the tip of my clit. I’m pointed, there, almost, and perky, like a tiny fin of sensitive flesh that, while smooth, is hardly even pink. My hips rocked of their own accord as she trailed her tongue down over my pussy lips. They’re darker than my clit, more pink, but nothing like my insides. I felt her trace over them, as if she silhouetted a butterfly’s wings. How much did she taste with that light touch? My lips had grown thick with my blood, swollen and hot, and surely it would take but the lightest penetration to taste my inner syrup. I squealed when her tongue came to rest at the back of my slit, where my lips are non-existent and I was basically an open hole, waiting for her to come inside. Waiting for her to swim inside…
But she didn’t. Back up she went, back to my clit. Up and down across my point, up into the tufted curls of my pubic hair, down to the delicate split where my clit parted and became my lips. Up and down. And then she pushed a little harder. I moaned, heedless of the rain on my face. Her tongue dipped into the fold beside my clit, rode that furrow to my pubis, then down the other side. She repeated this for what seemed like an hour, just going in circles around my clit, sometimes with pressure, sometimes with such a light touch I wondered if she had stopped.
Then she kissed my pubic hair above my pussy. I thought she was done and ready for something more. Before I could lift myself up, she slammed her tongue down across my clit and stabbed into my pussy like a little cock. She pushed in so fast and so hard I could feel her teeth grazing me. My hips bucked, and I screamed. I tried to control myself, in case someone heard, but then she started driving her tongue in circles on my insides. She pushed against my pussy walls, sliding through my wetness with her darting tongue, before pulling back out. And that was her pattern. Soft, teasing of my clit until I was a mixture bored edginess and eager lust, then a dive-bomb into my pussy to fuck me with her tongue until I was squealing again and ready to cum. It took forever, but by the time my orgasm hit, I was shrieking and writhing on the rooftop like a madwoman. I suppose we were a little insane, having sex in broad daylight on the top of our dorm. At least it was raining and no one was likely to see or hear.
When I opened my eyes again, Sara was leaning over me, smiling as I panted in the aftermath of my orgasm. She teased one of my nipples as the falling drizzle of rain made cold splashes on my seared clit. I pulled her down to me, kissing her, and tasted my hot, frothy cum on her lips. It was great that we were in the rain. I was a mess anyway.
After she let me lick myself off her tongue, Sara rose up, straddling my leg. I could feel her thigh pressing against my pussy. Her own wet sex slid luxuriantly on the smooth skin of my upper thigh.
“Did you like that?” she whispered in my ear.
I nodded, still unable to speak.
“Would you like some more?”
Another nod.
“Good. When you make it to our room, I’ll let you fuck me properly.”
And then she was gone. I blinked, my brain far too gone to register what was happening. I sat up slowly, in time to see that she had gathered our clothes, without putting any of them on, and ran towards the door with them bundled in her arms. I watched her run across the roof, bemused by the wicked grin on her face, until I realized that she was going back to our room while still naked and that she had taken all our clothes with her, which would force me to do the same. I started to laugh, then got onto shaky feet, grabbed my camera, and followed at a slower pace. I had wanted to avoid being seen by anyone but Sara. Now, it was the luck of the draw. How many people would be in our hallway and stairwell this late in the afternoon?