Permission 17

Rosie fell back panting. She had been trying for hours now: first with her fingers, then bluey, followed by her normally reliable penguin. But nothing could get her there. This was her third night hitting The Wall (as she'd come to think of it) and the frustration that had built up was starting to drive her insane. Her showers were long and... distracted, her housemates were looking more attractive by the day, and her fantasies were getting a little too deviant even for her liking. Well, she was liking them a enough.

Rolling over with an exasperated groan she reached over her head fumbling to grab her water bottle, disappointed by the negligible dribble it contained. Not nearly enough for the thirst she had worked up.

Damn it

she thought, shuffling groggily to hide her toys and dragging herself out of bed. She quickly threw on a loose T-Shirt and gym shorts and headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

It was new for her to struggle like this. Not that getting off had been a particular obsession of hers but when the need had presented itself she was practiced enough to get the job done. Hell she had even managed to cum a few times with her ex and lord knows that wasn't because of any talent on his part. There was The Wall now. A block no amount of physical stimulation or lurid fantasies could seem to tear down. She walked softly out of her room so as not to wake Becca and gently moved down the stairs.

The house was a bit too small for the three of them, a two bedroom mutated to three by the horror of student accommodation, but so far they'd avoided major drama. As she walked into the kitchen she was running through the portfolio of depraved fantasies that her mind had put together for to try to break though, hoping that if she found just the right combination of exhibitionism, forced edging, sla-

"Trouble sleeping?" Marc called from the living room jolting her from her spiral into degeneracy. She should expected him there: Marc had set up a near permanent evening residence there since finding a weed connection in town. Not that either of the girls minded. He wasn't a scrooge about sharing and he'd set up rather ingenious (by stoner standards) fan system that kept the smell from lingering. Rosie had been joining him more and more these past few weeks, often losing track of time and falling asleep there.

Why do I always forget he'll be here?

she thought to herself, snatching her hand away from between her legs and stepping away from the sink.

"Yeah, think it's going to be a late one. You got something on the go?" She answered, playing absent-mindedly with the bottom of her shirt as she leaned against the door frame. Marc gestured graciously to the ashtray, a half lit joint poking out. Beaming Rosie skipped over and collapsed onto the other sofa.

"Cheers, lifesaver" she said, pulling it over to her and taking a quick mouthful of that familiar, dreamy smoke. She chased it with another longer drag, letting the taste linger for a while before breathing out with a relaxed collapse back into the cushions.

Quickly she felt a sense of lightness settle over her. Marc was something of a daily user and made them pretty strong. Though she knew he would have made one more her level if she asked she liked the feelings being completely out of it the strong ones gave her. She enjoyed how her mind slowed down. How she could listen to Marc's cool and calm voice with an absent mind. How all the worries and aches of the day seemed to fade away. There was a lot of things she caught herself appreciating about her time with Marc lately especially after he had started making appearances in her midnight musings.

He'd been something of a late addition to the house share: a friend of Becca's that she'd recruited after their first choice had decided not to continue with her degree. He was tall, taller than Rosie in heels (no matter which of two was wearing them), had dark fluffy hair and focused deep blue eyes. Rosie used to think she didn't have a type until she had started spending more time around him.

The two girls had made a pre-emptive agreement not to let anything untoward happen in the interest of keeping things liveable in the tight space. But as she lay there breathing out another cloud, feeling her relaxation mix with pent up needs her inhibitions began to soften. The agreement began to find new flexibility in her mind. Was showing a bit of skin really out of bounds? Probably. But the implication of skin? Surely not. Marc was saying something as he often did as she lay back into the sofa letting the soft tides of relaxation ebb and flow over her. Normally he wasn't that talkative... but he seemed to open up when she wasn't paying attention. Not that she was being rude. She knew somewhere in her foggy brain that he didn't mind when she went to her dreamy space. Just like she knew Becca wouldn't mind if she had a little fun. As long as she stayed within the agreement and nothing happened

between

them it would all be fine.

"... awake" his voice suddenly sharply in focus. Had it been a question? How long had she been daydreaming? She felt a tinge of embarrassment but quickly pushed it down and took a long stretch. She let herself enjoy the movement before answering, savouring Marc's gaze as she lifted herself slightly off the sofa, arms and legs outstretched.

"Yeah sorry, just zoned out" she replied hoping it fit as an answer relaxing again into the sofa. She looked over to him as he turned back to watch whatever niche sit-com he was currently binging his way through. She gazed, trying to seem casual, at the slight but obvious tone under his shirt. Even while lying back into the cushions he seemed to have a firmness about him. The sharpness of his neck, the short well-kept beard, all of it felt wondrous to her. And of course his eyes. Their intensity, their focus, and the building desire she felt that they turn to her. To look at her body and encourage in him a desire to take it for himself, to wrap her up in those strong arms of his and pin her to the sofa, holding her down as he-

"All good over there?" He said turning to her, a big and all too charming smile lighting up his face. Rosie looked away quickly as if caught in some guilty act, wiping her mouth to make sure she hadn't been drooling. This was getting silly. And yet the tension inside her kept egging her on built up over weeks spent pushing against The Wall. The thrill of pushing the limits of the agreement just a little more.

"Just the heat." She replied eventually, managing a smile of her own that she hoped was ambiguously dismissive and seductive. Flapping her shirt while he was still looking (lifting it up slightly more than necessary for ventilation) she reached over for one of their blankets. "Mind if I get more comfortable?" she asked sweetly.

His head made same vague motion of affirmation so she covered herself in a blanket and shuffled out of her clothes as anyone trying to cool down would. First the t-shirt, taking it off in a fumbling clumsy motion while her other hand held the thin protection of her decency in place. She could feel the weed slowing her movements making the simple task a groggy slog. Luckily for both of them Rosie didn't mind if a few chinks were made in her dignity. In fact she was hoping for it. Next came the shorts, she arched her back intentionally as she removed them, so that the shape of her petite body made a clear impression against the fabric.

The sofas were slightly angled, curving inward, allowing her to face in the direction in the TV while keeping Marc in the corner of her eye. She slowly wiggled as she moved the shorts down her legs lethargically, as if distracted by the show. As she pushed them over her feet she leaned forward creating the distinct possibility the blanket would fall away. She caught it, looking up and smiling playfully at Marc's gave. Her nipples pressed hard against the fabric, two small firm points on a felt canvas. Her breath slow and controlled with a distinct edge that lurked in the back of her throat. It all felt so right. The teasing, the hazy horny cloud that had settled over her mind, but most of all Marc's eyes oh her. Even when looking away she could make out the shape of him and the way his head remained turned ever so slightly in her direction. More than that she could feel the friction of his observation prickling over her skin, as present against it as the fabric that hugged against her soft body. She didn't dare look over at him again. The thought of him looking away from the 'unintentional' performance she was putting on for his benefit was too tragic to bear. She was striking a beautiful balance she didn't want to end. And from the movement she saw happening beneath his waist neither did he.

Laying back into the sofa she let out a long sigh that danced dangerously along the border of a moan. Her right hand settled comfortable between her legs in a way that no outside observer or court in the country could prove wasn't a fold in the blanket. As she ran a finger along her slit the surprise at how wet she already was quickly overpowered by the indescribable thrill that ran through her. Whether it was how sensitive her clit was after the days of orgasm draught or Marc's observation what was unmistakeable was that the simple quick touch had struck something deep inside her. She gasped again as she slowly slid a finger inside quickly doing her best to disguise it as a yawn. No need to give the game away just yet.

Marc reached over and for a moment she thought he would pull the blanket away and spoil everything. Instead he picked up the ashtray placing it back down on his end of the coffee table. He killed the joint in one long pull, letting the smoke out in a thick cloud that swallowed his face for a second. Even that second where his eyes were obscured startled her. His observation of her had become essential. A need as pressing as breathing though even that didn't compare. Breathing didn't occupy her every thought like Marc did. He set to work rolling another his practiced motions confident and considered. God, everything he did was a turn on. Rosie had let her eyes drift back to him while her finger subtly circled her clit. The touch was sending intense shivers of pleasure through her body, the weed helping her lose herself more and more to the feeling. Entirely in the moment. Not a thought in her head but how fucking good this felt and how hot it would be if Marc noticed. She was already struggling to hold herself back. Her body was tense, trying so hard to seem at ease while she was anything but. She was held her breath to keep from gasping and the oxygen deprivation turned her on even more. Everything was getting more and more dizzy. She bit her lower lip hard, squeezing her eyes shut for a second, taking one long shuddering breath in at a time. But every effort just brought her closer to the edge.

While Marc was finishing the roll she moved her hand up to pinch her nipple. The sight of him running his tongue along the paper deliciously combining with the extra stimulation. Her hips bucked forward against her hand instinctively as she suppressed another gasp. Had Marc been looking there would be no mistaking what she was up to in that moment. Fortunately she managed to get herself under control again before he was done, a single finger rubbing gently yet consistently against her now swollen, throbbing clit. The blanket covering exactly what it needed to, the slight breve from the fan an easy explanation for any motion that could be seen from her movement. Her breath ragged but under control. At least sounding under control to the casual listener. At least to what her drowsy mind thought a casual listener would pick up on. The veil was starting to slip for her now, where she began to accept what was really going on here. Marc lit up and took a quick drag, his eyes returning to her but this time she didn't look away, instead staring blankly in return. Unable to form a single idea of what her face should look like in this moment while her hidden fingers worked away.

"I'll need to teach you at some point." He said, offering her the joint.

"Oh, you too." She replied, managing to squeak out the non-sequitur. Her mind had already filled with a soft pink haze of lust. System at capacity: unable to open new task. What remaining brainpower she had she was using to process the dilemma presented to her. On one hand she desperately wanted another lungful, another breath that would pull her deeper into her blissful trance, but on the other hand... well it would be best not to reveal what was going on there. "Could y- Wouldd..." she knew she was slurring now, knew she was a drugged out horny mess lying next to her housemate pleasuring herself, but that thought only increased her desire. "Canyou-holdit-forme?" The words finally tumbling out of her between her short sharp breaths. Her eyes widened. Hopeful, not only for the feeling of the familiar heat between her lips, but that Marc would be closer to her. Perhaps his fingers would brush against her as he held it there for. Perhaps as he leaned over her his hand would brush against her thigh.

"Yes" he replied simply, accepting it as if he had come up with the idea himself. He stood up and looked over her: the movements under the blanket undoubtedly visible now. Rosie had forgotten she was trying to hide them. Her legs spread as he approached, the blanket falling between them just barely keeping all the important bits covered. Without even looking down she could feel the presence of his erection, the way he moved evident of some obstruction.

"You can... see more... if you like." She said, her words finding a firmness as her mind solidified on what would happen next. Wanting him follow the script they had followed all those nights before. Wanting him to act on his desire for her. For him to reveal her nakedness and to hunger for her as she so desperately hungered for him.

He pressed the joint to her lips holding it against his knuckles while his hand nearly clasped over her mouth. He let her take in one last long transcendent drag while he pulled the blanket down. There was nothing restraining her now. As he pulled away, letting her breath out a long uninterrupted stream of smoke, he ran a hand down her body, light but firm. She moaned against his touch, her hands working faster now, fast enough that at any other time it would be over. But still, The Wall was in her way. Marc sat next to her, his legs close to her head. She shuffled quickly, laying her neck against his thigh. Her agreement with Becca long absent from her mind. He stroked her hair, the fingers of his other hand playing gently against her neck. Every movement he made seeming perfectly planned to enhance her pleasure. As if her mind programmed to observe his every action and to appreciate them in the utmost clarity, even as her consciousness melted away to a primal need. And in that state, with her thoughts dulled to nothing, her body knew what it needed. Those big eyes turned to Marc. Her body convulsed as it pressed back into him desperate for his touch but more importantly for him to let her through The Wall.

"Are you ready Rosie?" He asked, the words she had craved without knowing for all this time. She nodded in big jerky movements distorted by her intense arousal. She moaned. She pressed into him in desperation. Anything that could show to him how much she wanted this. Needed it. How in that moment there was nothing else she could imagine wanting again. Her hand moving in a blur now, the near stimulation overwhelming. Marc affirmed her need by pulling her into his chest and wrapping her into him. She could feel herself succumbing to him completely, the thought familiar and thrilling. After a few perfect seconds held against him, his hands exploring her body in a way that felt like ownership, he gripped her neck firmly. Leaning into her, his mouth millimetres away from her ear he whispered soft and firm:

"Then cum for me."

The orgasm ripped through her instantly. The crashing torrent of ecstasy jolted and contracted over her entire body and mind, each tensing pulse prompting gasps of pleasure interrupting the long sustained moan of her bliss. In that moment there was nothing else. The feeling of Marc's comforting restraint fading from her focus even as she spammed against his grip. Only the satisfaction of that primal need flowed through her mind carrying off the last of her thoughts and resistance with it. She could feel the vibrations on Marc's chest, knowing he was speaking again, but language had ceased to exist.

All higher concepts set aside as she rode the wave, Marc's words entering unfiltered into the deepest parts of her mind conditioning her to seek out this feeling again, to place herself under his control even when she didn't realise she was doing it, to show herself to him, to desire his gaze. The memory of this session just like the others stored as just another pleasant dream. Another fantasy to add her motivation to return again. She closed her eyes as the final ripples of her powerful orgasm past through her. Smiling contentedly as she lay back against Marc's chest drifting into something between a deep sleep and a deep trance. Whether because of Marc's words, complete physical and mental exhaustion, or the lingering effects of the weed she quickly faded into complete unconsciousness. The last sensation of being lifted up strangely comforting to her as she drifted dreamily down and down and down....

...Rosie woke to her alarm the next morning. Rolling over still half asleep she dug under the covers eventually managing to silence it.

Wait, how did I...?

, she thought trying to remember exactly what had happened after she had filled her water in the kitchen. The worry quickly slipped away as she realised she was naked, replaced by a thrilling idea. Unlocking her phone she quickly closed all the tabs of porn, bookmarked the lingerie for later, her excitement and nervousness growing by the second.

Am I really doing this?

For a second she doubted herself, a small corner of her mind compelling her to think things through, but then another thrilling pulse of excitement ran through her whole body.

Riding the impulse she hopped out of bed and went over to her mirror. She'd never taken nudes before, let alone sent them to anyone, though she had been fantasising about it for weeks now. And now felt just right. She posed, one arm squeezing her small tits together while the other held the phone close against her chest. She tilted her head down, a coyness settling over her. She crossed her soft pale legs slight, enough to hide the excitement dripping between them while making sure they still looked like she wanted him to find out what was between them. She had taken 30 photos before she was done, before selecting the 10 best for Marc to enjoy. Strangely the thoughts of his reaction to them didn't stay in her mind for long after she hit send, thrilling as they were.

Even the memory of what she had just been doing quickly slipped away leaving her in a soft dreamy daze before regaining her senses a moment later.

Why am I standing here?

looking around herself for something she couldn't quite remember looking for. She mentally shrugged, chuckling at her own ditziness. She walked back over to the bed and put her phone on charge and, resisting the urge to fall back into it to masturbate, started to get ready for the day. She was starting to feel truly at home in the room, sharing the house with Marc and Becca for the next year just seemed perfect. She couldn't wait to live out all the fun they were sure to have together.