For the last few years I enjoyed a platonic relationship with my female roommate Cynthia. She was a beautiful blonde who was just finishing her second University degree.
In the past years she was unwittingly the star attraction to my voyeuristic tendencies over the past few years. She had begun and maintained a long distance relationship with Jason, a business major at another University. When he visited I would watch them having sex or playfully being intimate but cracking open the bedroom door. From the moment they began their relationship I had been there as well.
On the morning after the first evening together I was able to watch Cynthia perform a blowjob as her boyfriend lied back in bed. I snuck from my room and watched through the already open door. I was able to see Cynthia's spit on her boyfriends cock then continue to bob up and down on his member, the new day sun shining in through the window and passing through her blonde locks. This was the first time I was given the privilege of seeing the petite breasts she possessed. I admit I found her technique of giving head to be unappealing and unsatisfying as she finished him off with a hand job. The truth is in the last two years I had never seen Jason cum into her mouth.
They only saw each other about once every two months and during those times I was not with anyone, I would work my sneaky abilities to try and watch them.
Over time I was able to watch the tender moments of Cynthia's blouse being removed so gently, then her bra. Jason then would carefully toy with her perky breasts before moving on to suck on the nipple. I was there to watch them fuck in only a few positions. I knew my roommate to be a mite uptight about intimacy. It was either always the missionary position or with her on top. Only once did I ever see Jason have her up on all fours, taking her from behind with gentle force. I could sense that she wasn't satisfied, but almost afraid to ask to be taken harder. I wasn't able to see her face with her blonde locks covering it, but I could hear her tiny moans of pleasure. In recent visits I had eased off in my extra-curricular activity because I had almost gotten caught a few times.
Of course, over time my mind began to race of many sexual fantasies I would love to act out on her. I knew that under the right circumstance, basically her being drunk would be the only way anything could happen. We weren't particularly too compatible so I always felt the odds were against me. I had tried being nice, being flirty and even outright admitting to a "crush" on her. None of this was working. I knew that someday I would get to taste what slept one room over from me night after night.
Cynthia's and Peter relationship became uneasy, but both were still casually working on it. One evening I came home around two in the morning, pretty smashed from a night of celebrating a friend's birthday. I walked in to find my roommate sitting on our futon in the dark, only the flickering image of some Meg Ryan movie that was on the television lighting the room. I removed my jacket and shoes before I sat next to her on the couch. On the table I noticed an empty bottle of wine and a near empty glass, a sampling of red wine still available. Cynthia had been crying.
I really was in no mood to listen but... " What's a matter Cynthia?" I inquired half-heartedly.
"Jason, that Bastard. He is so fuckin' stupid sometimes." Her words were slightly slurring. She had an argument with Jason and was in need of relief. She chose the bottle and she seemed to be feeling better. I was sitting close to her, my hand innocently touching her bare leg.
I leaned forward and gave her a hug. I figured in the least she would stop crying, though I was aroused from her streaking tears.
"Thank you." She quietly said. I pulled back and we looked into each other's eyes. It wasn't a few minutes that passed before I tasted the inside of her mouth. I wasn't much of a fan of red wine but savored every taste drop from her mouth. Our tongues played with each other as my hand rubbed up and down her smooth leg. I sampled the skin on her cheek, a nibble from her ear and even a bite from her neck!
The night was hard to explain. In that moment I was exploding in sexuality but it never went further. As our tongues tangled together I tried going further, beginning by running my fingers at the hem of her plaid boxer shorts and trying to move them higher. My advances were stopped and once again I remembered Cynthia's prude-like attitude with the casualness of sex. My mind screamed out like a locomotive on a path for destruction. The urge to take her was strong but I still resisted. Was what I feeling natural? Was I feeling guilty for wanting to treat her how I wanted to treat her?
