Lusting After My Housemate

When I moved out of my parents' house to study, I eventually found a place with four others -- 3 girls and another guy. We immediately got on very well, and I managed to maintain a coherent conversation with everyone despite my shyness.

The girls were all very attractive, and one in particular I thought was stunning. Slim but with quite large breasts, slender limbs and pale skin. She had thick brown hair that she tied back in a pony tail and when she smiled at me I would melt a little inside.

I started going out at night with my housemates, trying to dance and drinking too much. But I still hadn't had a girlfriend (although I told them that I had lost my virginity years ago). I was way too shy to approach any of the girls for something more serious, and as usual tried to compensate for my lack of communication skills by staying fit and working out.

My addiction to porn continued to develop, and when I wasn't being sociable or working or studying, I spent my free time masturbating and fantasizing about my housemate(s). I felt ashamed about this, but the shame actually became part of my fantasies. The more perverted I felt, the more intense the pleasure as I played with myself.

The exhibitionist monster had well-and-truly awoken in me, although my shyness prevented me from fully developing it. When I returned from the gym or needed to shower early in the morning, I started walking from my room to the bathroom naked, with a towel at hand in case anyone suddenly appeared. This was a very short distance, but the sense of danger and the thrill of being naked and possibly being seen always made me very excited.

Arriving naked and turned on in the bathroom inevitably led to masturbation. I knew from experience that attempting to clean up my pubes in this situation led to mistakes. However, as I was constantly turned on, and the experience of shaving was becoming increasingly exciting for me, I frequently ended up attempting to tidy up as I masturbated.

The same pattern repeated itself again and again: I would lather up my groin area, starting with my balls and shaft. As I progressed, I would remove a little bit more on one side than the other, and would have to shave a bit higher on the other to even it out. With one trembling hand stroking my shaft as the other shakily operated the razor, I would keep trying to even things out until the only reasonable course of action was to remove all of my pubic hair and wait for it to grow back out.

The day after one of these shaving sessions, I was feeling ashamed and incredibly aroused as I tiptoed naked from my room to the bathroom. As soon as I stepped through the door my eye fixed on something out of place -- tucked in the corner under the basin was some underwear. Going by who had used the bathroom last, it had to be my favorite housemate's.

I closed and locked the bathroom door, my heart racing and my cock already hard and dripping. I bent down and lifted up the underwear. It was a very small thong -- two small triangles of fabric connected by thin cotton bands. I examined them carefully. They were used, and there was a fine silvery film where her pussy would have been. I drew the thong to my face and breathed in deeply, my head spinning with arousal as I stroked my cock with my free hand. I couldn't get enough of her. I stuck out my tongue and licked the fabric. The taste was electric, I felt a jolt pass through me and thought I would explode with desire. The next few minutes were a blur as I licked the thong, rubbed it over my body and stroked my throbbing cock feverishly. The more contact with the thong, the closer it felt to actually touching her body. But of course, whatever I did fell far short of the real thing.

Eventually I decided I needed to be in the thong. I stepped into it and pulled it up. It was far too small and my cock and balls spilled over the top and out of the sides. I felt the string pressing against my asshole, and as I looked in the mirror felt a new, intense wave of arousal. This was so perverted.

I turned to look at my ass in the mirror, then bent over and spread my cheeks. The line of the thong was visible between the hairs between my cheeks, my smooth balls neatly separated and dangling out the sides. It made me feel really hot and dirty, but I knew instinctively that she wouldn't have hair sticking out the sides like that. I stepped into the shower, lathered up and shaved all the hair between my cheeks. I stepped out of the shower and slipped the thong on again, admiring the difference in the mirror. The sight of the thong pressed against my shaved asshole made me very excited.

I came in waves into the bathroom sink, before coming to my senses and removing the thong. I left it where I had found it, although it must have been stretched totally out of shape.

I was no closer to being with a real woman, but this was to date by far my most intense sexual experience. I had added two new elements to my sexual repertoire: (clean and dirty) women's underwear, and shaving my asshole.

Over the next few months I would develop these kinks, taking more risks and refining my technique. I might describe these experiences (including getting caught) in a later story.