The Roommate Chronicles

What the f*ck is going on?!

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The sound it would make when he slapped the head of his d**k on my clit

The look he’d give me when I slowly encompassed his d**k in my mouth.

I hoped he would taste good.

I could hear me moaning his name and his soft little “Kree” moaning back to me.

I could almost feel him stroking me slowly.

Damn I hope his ego is big.

My thoughts were interrupted when my unsuspecting roommate burst through his door and here I was daydreaming exclusively about him.

He didn’t know and he didn’t need to.

The lust was mutual but for me it was the thrill of what he couldn’t have.

He, my roommate, had once asked me when he was drunk to please me.

His angle was that he could please me better than his best friend.

I doubted it.

… but JUST THE THOUGHT of someone wanting to attempt to make me c*m was enough.

I had been daydreaming in the day and playing with p***y at night to the thought of him.

He could never know. Not even in my afterlife.

The embarrassment would be too great

But I can’t stop. My p***y and my mind are not on cooperating with me.

What the f**k is going on?

You see before the realization that I wanted to fantasize about him I thought he was crusty, dusty, and musty.

And to some extent I still think that way.

But living with someone can give you perspective. One where I see him cook and clean. I see him take hour long showers daily *so sexy unless I have to pee ?* He pays the bills on time too.

The only thing that’s a turn off is his choice of friends. Namely the friend who I had relations with.

It’s not as if I didn’t know they were friends. They’ve made it abundantly clear since the beginning by dubbing each other affectionately “Pop.”

If only he could pop this p***y ?

Seriously though his best friend is a menace to society. No pun intended.

The reason why we even began relations involved coercion the day we met. At the time I’d undergone heavy trauma already and decided to look at the situation from an optimistic standpoint.

That is until drama ensued. I’d broken it off. He wasn’t making sure my big O was being taken care of. My pleasure wasn’t considered. So, he would no longer be considered in my life.

This was fine for me. That is until he began to show signs of obsession.

It was subtle yet obvious.

When we still spoke he’d let me know that he used to spy on me.

Very weird.

And now that his best friend was my roommate. He made it clear when he was in my house without saying a word to me directly.

Childish.

But it’s been quiet for a while now and my mind won’t stop thinking of the taste of his sin spilling down my throat.

As a “voluptuous” woman men look to us as tools for their desires without attachment.

I used to stand on my soapbox for these issues. Making sure all who saw me or heard me knew I was an advocate for the respect, beauty, and love plus size women deserved.

And now…. I wanna submit to the crusty dusty ?

I want him to assert himself in me and tell me it’s his.

No choice in the matter.

I want him to knock on my door in the middle of the night just to push me against the wall and ram into me like he needed it as much….

No..

MORE than I needed him.

In my head this game had two players but only one was in control. While the other was oblivious. Clueless to what I was yearning for every time I played with knot between my legs.

He had become my obsession.