Roommate Surprise

Roommate Surprise

MC, MD, FF, BD

Marsa discovers her new roommate's peculiar lifestyle.

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Marsha's old roommate took a new job in another state. The new job came with a significant raise in pay as well as an advancement in her job title. Unfortunately, the new company required all employees to work in the office at least three days a week. So she packed up and moved.

Marsha couldn't afford to keep the apartment to herself. She considered advertising on Craig's List for a new roommate but wasn't comfortable with having a stranger move in. She covered the whole rent herself for a few months, but it became clear she couldn't sustain that. So she started asking around the gym locker room to see if anybody had a room available.

Connie, a fellow gym rat at the local sweat zone, overheard her and chimed in, "I actually could use a roommate. I own a small townhome with an extra bedroom. Your bedroom would have its own full bath. I'll even clear out some junk so you can park in my 2-car garage. I think you'd fit in nicely!"

Connie was a gregarious little blonde, barely over five feet tall, with bright blue eyes. She seemed to be friends with everyone at the gym. She was super fit; she had a muscular back, strong legs, and small tits. Connie usually wore clingy outfits with open strap backs that showed she wasn't wearing a bra and sheer yoga pants without panties that fit so snugly between the cheeks you'd swear you could make out the outline of her asshole. Marsha had spied on Connie's workout routines for months now. It was quite impressive how much weight she could lift, considering how compact she was. She had also checked out Connie's tight little body in the locker room. Connie was not shy at all about parading wet and naked around the dressing area, smiling, chatting, laughing, and showing off her pierced nipples and the butterfly tattoo right above her carefully shaved pussy. Connie had extra piercings in her left ear, one in her left nostril, and once Marsha caught a glimpse of jewelry between her thighs. Routinely, Connie could be seen casually shaving between her legs in the common shower area, not even trying to be private about it.

Everybody liked Connie. She seemed to know everybody's name and liked to tell an endless supply of ribald jokes. She always turned to face someone squarely when she talked to them, standing uncomfortably close, holding eye contact, and giggling, wiggling just slightly enough to entice. Whenever the two talked, it made Marsha's nipples hard for the next half an hour.

Connie's locker room manners must have been infectious because there were a number of other women who hung out in the nude, gabbing, laughing, and making sexist comments about the male members of the gym. It was a sort of mini-nudist resort right there in the city. Even Jackie, the club owner, participated after her personal workouts. After a few months, the social pressure got to Marsha. She lowered her guard enough to linger after her shower before dressing, enjoying the company and secretly enjoying the view. She was quite proud of her body and privately hoped the others would notice. She found that if she pulled her shoulders back and pushed her tits out, she did get admiring gazes. Soon enough, strutting, posing, and preening became second nature. Besides, all the naked girls were doing it. The shared comradery of group locker room nudity became one of the most important reasons for daily gym attendance. The absence of men staring made it all the more gratifying.

Then there was the BB-gang, that group of six or seven blonde hotties who always hung out together, making a spectacle of themselves. They arrived about the same time. They worked out together. They showered and shaved together, laughing and chatting the whole time. They monopolized the dressing mirrors, doing makeup, brushing hair, and otherwise intimately grooming each other. They left together in a loud group, apparently unaware of the effect they were having on the men. It was obvious they were lesbians, though they never seemed to hit on anyone else. They just showed up, did their thing, and left. Connie seemed quite comfortable with the BB-gang. She moved easily in and out of their circle, but she never looked to be a member. Yes, she was a blonde. But she was short and small-breasted. The BB's were all tall skinny blondes with big tits.

Marsha was no slacker in the gym, either. She was built for it. Taller than average and broad-shouldered for a woman, yet with narrow hips and a tight muscular ass, she kept her full red hair in a thick braid that reached clear down to her britches. She had inherited her mother's tendency to hold onto extra weight. So she watched her diet and worked out like a fiend. Daily trips to the gym kept her abs flat, her arms strong, and her legs curvy. Twice-weekly yoga classes kept her as limber as a noodle. Luckily, the only extra weight she carried was in her breasts. They were large and firm, riding high with dark areolas and nipples the size of thimbles when hard. Marsha's breasts were as freckled as her face.

Marsha's thought processes got short-circuited when a giggling, naked Connie offered her a place to live. The tight little blonde was squirming like someone was dancing a peacock feather between her thighs. Then Connie softly set her fingers on Marsha's forearm, batting her baby blue eyes. All rational thinking came to an abrupt stop. A private bathroom and garage parking! A chance to live with popular Connie! How could anyone say no to that? Who cared how much it cost?

Without actually choosing to do so, a single word escaped Marsha's lips: "Yes."

Connie squealed and laughed and swept in for a full-on, wrap-around, nipple-to-nipple hug that lingered way-y-y longer than necessary. Connie turned her head to the side and rested her soft ear on the upper curve of Marsha's left breast. Clinging tight, she brought up several plans and laid out several conditions for being a roommate.

Marsha agreed to every item without thinking about or even remembering what she agreed to. By the time she returned from lunar orbit, Connie had moved on to chatting with other naked girls. Embarrassed, Marsha scurried off for a second shower to cool her jets. When she finally gathered her wits and processed what had just happened, she realized Connie had been humping her leg the whole time they hugged.

Even though Marsha had three weeks left on her lease, she must have agreed to move in the next day. Connie showed up with two muscle dudes from the gym to help. Both macho men drove trucks, which made things easier. Mike and Randy were familiar to Marsha. It turned out Mike was actually Connie's boyfriend, although she had never seen outward signs of affection between them. Mike and Randy were very friendly during the move, commenting on Marsha's workouts and physique. Marsha caught them checking out her body throughout the day, exchanging knowing glances. She didn't know whether to feel degraded or complimented. She figured men would be men. She decided to feel complimented. Randy's comments delved into come-on territory but never went any further than that.

Marsha and Connie hit it off like old pals. They had a lot in common: movies, humor, and even liking the same foods. After Marsha was all settled in, Connie pressured her to sign a rental agreement that included significant penalties for early exit. Marsha thought it strange to sign something so strict between friends, but she decided business is business. The feeling passed. Once that was signed, Connie revealed she was a full-time nudist at home. She encouraged Marsha to do the same. Marsha declined at first. After a few weeks, she again lowered her guard, but only when Connie wasn't around. It did feel strangely liberating to be free of clothing, and after another week, she stopped being dressed at home all together, alone or not. Besides, Connie had already seen her naked in the locker room. What was the difference?

Mike came over once or twice a week, usually spending the night. He was always gone before Marsha woke up. Mike apparently had his own key because he usually let himself in. He seemed quite respectful of Marsha's nudity, taking a good peek but never staring or gawking. If Connie was out of her room, they went straight to her room as soon as he arrived. Other times, he went right into her room without knocking. The sex started immediately, without enough time for foreplay. Mike and Connie were quite loud in their lovemaking, and the noise usually left Marsha wet between the legs. She had no serious boyfriend at the time and was quite comfortable with touching herself, so she often masturbated while her roommate was getting fucked. Marsha began flirting with Randy at the gym. He responded with likewise flirtatious banter that never seemed to go anywhere.

Mike started spending more nights at the townhome. The sex sessions became even louder. Marsha actually left the house a couple of times to get away, but soon tired of the dead-end men at the dead-end bar she ended up at. So she stayed home, listening and masturbating. One night, Mike actually brought another woman over with him. Her name was Helen. Marsha recognized her from the health club. The three of them raised holy hell that evening, but Helen left before 10, grumbling something about money for a babysitter.

Marsha became fairly used to masturbating while Connie and Mike fucked. Being naked made that a lot simpler. And since they fucked a lot, she masturbated a lot, several times every night, even on nights when Mike wasn't around. Touching herself became the norm. She tried to fantasize that it was herself having sex with Mike. He was quite handsome and well-built. But Connie's shrieks invaded her thoughts. All she could imagine was Connie and Mike together. She tried imagining sex with Randy. No use. Somehow, she could only see Mike on top of Connie in her mind.

Connie always kept her bedroom door closed. Marsha respected that, thinking it was a privacy thing. After all, the townhome was her property. One Tuesday afternoon, Marsha was collecting up her laundry. Due to their schedules, Marsha was home alone every Tuesday. Then they were both off on Wednesdays. Marsha's white load was a bit light, and she wondered if she should collect up a few undies and socks from Connie's room to add to her own. A friendly roommate gesture. She went into Connie's room.

Marsha was very surprised at what she found. Connie's bed was outfitted as a bizarre bondage bed. The bed was essentially a queen-size frame with specialized upgrades. The headboard and footboard looked solidly built, able to withstand some serious abuse. Pins and rings were fitted at the corners and several other places. Instead of sheets, the mattress was covered in a fitted vinyl slip. There were no blankets in sight. No wonder Connie kept the thermostat set so high.

Two lengths of solid climbing rope came out of a hole at the center of the footboard, rising and separating in a vee to the outer corners of the headboard, each vanishing into a hole at the corner. At the foot of the bed, where the ropes rose over the edge of the mattress, were two padded leather cuffs attached to knots in the ropes. Obviously, for ankles, they looked quite sturdy, although probably comfortable. Also near the corners of the headboard were two dangling ropes attached to another pair of padded cuffs. Similarly stout but comfortable, they were sized for someone's wrists. Now Marsha had an idea of why the late-night sex sessions seemed to get so rowdy.

The bed had four large under-bed drawers, two on either side. Marsh opened one and rummaged through its contents, finding an assortment of bondage gear. Much of it looked like nothing she recognized, but it was all obviously sexual in nature. One piece she did recognize was a ball gag. She had seen them in movies. It was a simple band of elastic bungee cord material joined together into a loop. The loop passed through a red rubber ball. Marsha wondered whether it would hurt to wear the gag for very long. She slipped the ball between her front teeth. The ball slipped easily past her front teeth and settled snugly, pushing her tongue flatly down. Her mouth was held open, but not stretched uncomfortably.

Marsa tried to say a few words. In the movies, a gag like this silences the wearer. She found she could make a fair amount of noise, but her words came out as unintelligible gurgles. Not silenced, but unable to speak.

Marsha looked up at herself in a full-length mirror mounted on the ceiling. (Of course, there was a huge mirror on the ceiling!) She had never tried anything like this before, and it felt strangely sexy. Kind of a wicked, forbidden sexy. Marsha slipped a hand down between her thighs to discover she was already moist down there. She tried to imagine tiny Connie wearing the gag, but her own image from the mirror persisted. She pushed with her tongue, and the ball popped right out. She put it back between her teeth and stretched the loop over her head. Now, when she pushed with her tongue, the ball stayed put. She had placed the loop over her hair braid, which was slightly uncomfortable. Using both hands, she pulled the ball out, slipping the cord under her braid. She left the gag dangling around her neck.

Marsha returned to the drawer to see what other treasures were there. The next thing she recognized was a strapon dildo. It was a big one, some 12 inches long and fat. The thing was way bigger than any guy she had ever seen. It was realistically shaped, including protruding veins, a spearhead tip, and a big pair of balls at the base. She held it up and examined the straps. She considered trying it on but tossed it onto the bed instead. There were more than a dozen other strange sex fetish items in the drawer. Three more drawers awaited exploration. The weirdness overwhelmed her for a moment.

Marsha decided Connie could do her own laundry and left the room, closing the door behind her. She certainly couldn't shake the image of what she had discovered in her roommate's bedroom. It added a whole new dimension to her fantasy of Mike on top of Connie. She found that, for now, her roommate persisted as the object of her fantasies. That was fine with her. She didn't want to think of herself in bondage. That was definitely too bizarre for her.

Marsha took her basket of laundry to the machine and loaded it, closing the hallway door to keep the noise out. She went to the kitchen to pour herself an afternoon cup of coffee, reheating it in the microwave. She sat down in the living room with her cup and, as her mind recounted what she had seen, her hand slipped between her thighs again. Since moving in with Connie, masturbation has become routine. She was home alone and figured, 'What the hell? Looking down, Marsha realized she still had the ball gag dangling around her neck. An image of Connie wearing the ball formed in her mind. She remembered seeing her own face in the ceiling mirror, but now she could only visualize Connie.

Marsha paused masturbating long enough to stretch the cord and let the ball settle into place. Immediately, her own face came into focus in the fantasy. That was a bit strange, but it seemed she had to be wearing the gag for it to be a self-fantasy. She got down to business, giving herself several great orgasms. She relaxed after the third one, or was it four? She closed her eyes with one hand cupped over her sex, the other nursing her coffee mug. Her mind slipped into a state halfway between lucid dreams and horny fantasies. In her dreams, she was indeed wearing the ball gag. However, she could only see Connie and Mike fucking. Now her fantasy version of Connie was trapped in various states of bondage while Mike plowed the ever-loving sh*t out of her.

Marsha woke up with a start. Glancing at the clock, she realized Connie would be home soon. She hopped up and returned the ball gag and the strapon dildo to the drawer and closed it, hustling back to her room. Just in time, as Connie came in the door just then.

The next day was pure torture for Marsha. She had to hold her secret knowledge close, keeping a straight face around Connie. She just couldn't admit to snooping around her new roommate's things. If it pissed Connie off, she could throw Marsha out without anywhere to live and keep the deposit. The day went on forever. Every time she saw Connie naked, her mind placed that sexy body in some sort of bondage posture. That night, she got little sleep. Images of Mike pounding Connie haunted her.

The rest of the week crawled by. Mike's visits were now nightly. Their loud sex became a vivid reminder of what she had seen. Images of Connie strapped down while Mike pommeled her drove her to fierce masturbation sessions. Try as she might, she couldn't picture herself on that bed. After a few days, she started longing to feel what it would be like to be held down helplessly while that hot guy, Randy, used her. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Connie and Mike. She bought a small rubber toy ball that was about the right size and practiced holding it in her mouth, pretending she was gagged. It helped personalize her fantasies but only made her hornier.

Even though she found the pornographic images disturbing, they were also inescapably compelling. Simply wiping herself after peeing in the restroom at work had now turned into a horny masturbation session. She carefully kept the noise contained, so no one else knew. The orgasms were becoming quicker and easier to achieve, while at the same time becoming stronger and more satisfying.

Marsha had earned a bachelor's in psychology. It was what made her such a successful salesman. She fully recognized the feedback loop for what it was. Frequent orgasms needed less and less work to achieve. They also provided ever-increasing pleasure. The amped-up pleasure reward induced a fixation on the fantasy that was driving the behavior. Nightly hot sex in the next room forged increasingly aberrant fantasies. The inescapable fantasies ensured more frequent masturbation. Smaller rests between orgasms guaranteed the next one arrived with reduced effort.

Marsha recognized she was trapped in what was called an obsessive-compulsive feedback loop. The pleasure reward had become addictive, and the environmental stimulant was unavoidable. She was loving it! No one was getting hurt. Her university training taught her that masturbation was harmless. She independently decided it was not just harmless. Rather, masturbation was pure good, a goal in its own right. Natural, wholesome nourishment for the soul. Marsha welcomed the behavior and actively chose to escalate her immersion in the cycle. She accepted the compulsion to touch herself whenever she had the privacy for it. Full-time domestic nudity encouraged the behavior. She embraced the sexual fantasies that now haunted her idle moments.

Marsha recognized that actually wearing her stand-in toy ball gag seemed to be required to fantasize about herself. She was becoming desperate to visualize herself in bondage. Marsha decided that this next Tuesday, when Connie was at work, she would experiment on that bed, hoping to see herself in these fantasies that were consuming her.

Marsha left for the gym at the same time as Connie left for work. Marsha put in a fierce session, even lifting a personal best on the mechanical bench press. When done, she sent her roommate an innocuous text, verifying Connie was at her desk. Marsha bolted home without showering and peeled off her clothes immediately, leaving them on the floor just inside the garage door. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was late in the morning. Connie wasn't due home until after work. Marsha had like six or seven hours left to explore all the weird paraphernalia. She drank a protein shake and padded barefoot down the hall to Connie's room, bringing her laptop to look up items she didn't recognize. She felt deliciously sinful, sneaking naked into her roommate's private space. Her left middle finger stroked slowly across her clitoral area as she looked around the room.