The Dessert My Roommate Asked Me for in Private

I’m incredibly turned on by Marina, my roommate. She’s not some cover-girl stunner, but she knows how to play her cards and always manages to seem much sexier than a photo of her would suggest. Her lingerie hanging to dry on the inner balcony is a constant temptation. When I’m alone, I sit in the little sitting room where the drying rack is too and let my imagination run wild, waiting for something more than imagination to take flight.

More than once I’ve even taken one of her garments to heighten the pleasure, then put it back exactly as it was, so she never suspects a thing. Her blue bra, her lace panties, that burgundy set I’ve barely ever seen on her… all those pieces have done me more favors than she could ever imagine. And the best part is, she has no idea at all.

Her underwear betrays a coquettishness she doesn’t show much otherwise. Though something had started to change. It was summer, it was hot, all right. But for the first time in two years living together, Marina started moving around the common areas in a bikini.

The apartment kitchen is tiny, and if we happened to be in there at the same time, she no longer waited for me to finish. We cooked side by side, she didn’t worry about avoiding contact, she’d bend down shamelessly to get something from the lower drawers, putting that tight ass of hers wrapped in that little triangle of fabric right at eye level. If the heat was up, she turned it up even more. And not just the apartment’s: her own too.

The weekend before, something happened that I didn’t understand until a couple of days later. I came out of my room to drink a good gulp of cold water and, while I was at it, to throw away an empty bottle I had lying around. I crushed it almost when I reached the kitchen and noticed she jumped. She started closing every tab on her phone in a hurry, as if she were watching something I wasn’t supposed to find out about. She was a little red. I figured it was some fling and didn’t think anything of it.

It wasn’t that. After the awkward moment passed, Marina went back to her new normal and, amid little touches and brushes, she kept stroking my arm, my chest, praising how I cooked. It looked like she was about to ask me for a favor. But she didn’t say anything, and we sat down to eat on the sofa, like we did on those days when we were both working from home. Me in swim trunks, her in a bikini.

It’s the most awkward thing we do. I want to look at her, but sitting side by side means any glance forces me to turn my head on purpose. There are no accidents there. That day, though, she finished first and reclined on the sofa while I finished my plate. She lifted a foot and started stroking me with it.

She clearly wants something, I thought, and my cock started to show in my trunks just from feeling her foot moving up and down my thigh.

I finished as fast as I could without seeming desperate, grabbed her foot and started stroking it. At one point she sneezed, lifted her leg with the jolt, and I took the chance to pretend I was dodging a blow I was actually dying to take. I caught her foot, gave it a soft kiss, and said:

—Hey, you’re hitting me! Hahaha.

—But you’re getting something better, aren’t you? —she replied with a little laugh.

The other foot went straight to the bulge in my trunks, pressing my hard cock against my own belly and rubbing up and down. I told her I preferred kisses to violence, she said I was dangerous, and she sat up.

—Want to have dessert? —she suggested.

—Sure —I replied.

***

I always go for ice cream. That afternoon I had a tub of chocolate in the freezer. Marina’s more into sports and came back with a bowl of cereal, which struck me as a weird dessert, but I kept quiet. We sat back down and she put her feet back in my lap and the smile back on her face.

—They’re really good, though a little dry —she said, chewing.

The first thing that occurred to me was to offer her some ice cream, so I spooned a few scoops into the bowl. While I leaned toward her, she didn’t relax her foot for a second: she kept it planted right where it affected me most, pressing down hard. Her attack was coming now, I could tell.

—The chocolate is really good. But it probably has sugar. Natural milk would be better —she said, and punctuated the words with a proper foot battle between my legs that ended with her right foot at my lips, asking for another kiss.

—Should I get you milk? Or…?

—No, stay —she said, as naturally as could be, with no special tone at all, but it put me through the roof.

We both already knew what was going to happen. So, finally, she told me what she’d been watching on her phone that day.

—Do you remember when you came into the kitchen and I started closing everything like crazy? I was watching a video a friend sent me as something disgusting. But I loved it. Well, not all of it. —She paused and looked at me—. In the video, they pissed in the cereal bowl. I don’t want that, mind you. But I do want you to come in this bowl for me. I want cereal with milk. With your milk. Would you jerk off in front of me?

She said it while offering me the bowl and running her foot up my leg to my already hard package, pressing the tips of her toes against the head showing through the fabric.

—If you help me… —I tried.

—No. I want you to do it by yourself, for me. With me right here in front of you.

—It won’t be hard for me to jerk off for you…

—I hope not. Have you never done it before?

—Why?

—I don’t know, it’s normal. We’re a guy and a girl, we live together… —she let the sentence hang there, like an invitation to confess.

—Your laundry on the line is pretty sexy, to be honest.

Marina’s face showed a flicker of surprise before she slipped back into the game. If for a moment she had thought this was all revenge, at that instant my doubt vanished. She really wanted what she was asking for, and my confession had pleased her.

—You think it’s sexy? What do you like best? Maybe I can hang more things out. Or… do you want me to bring it to you now? —she asked, biting her lip.

—I was talking about the bikini you were wearing —I lied half the way, because it wasn’t what I liked most, just to see how far this would take us.

—Just the bikini? —she pressed, narrowing her eyes—. Come on, tell me the truth. Every time I hang laundry, I know you’re lurking around the sitting room. I’m not as clueless as you think.

I was speechless for a moment. For two years I’d been convinced my little thefts were a perfect secret, and it turned out she’d been playing with me all that time. The idea that Marina knew about her blue bra, about the burgundy set, embarrassed me more than it excited me. But embarrassment, at that moment, also pushed me on.

—The lace ones —I finally admitted, my mouth dry—. The black lace ones.

—I knew it —she said, and the smile that spread across her face was anything but innocent—. And what did you do with them, you little perv? Did you rub them on your cock? Did you come in them?

—Both —I confessed hoarsely—. I wrapped them around my cock and came with your smell all over my face.

—Fuck… —she murmured, and I saw her nipples tighten under the top of the bikini.

Marina took off her bikini with no preamble and stood naked in front of me. Her tits bounced free, small but firm, with nipples so hard they looked like they were asking for a mouth. Between her legs, her shaved cunt showed swollen lips shining with wetness. She took the bowl in both hands as if pleading, and I could only answer the way she expected. I yanked my trunks down and my cock sprang up, hard, thick, and already pearled at the tip with pre-cum.

***

Marina’s eyes widened when she saw the size of it, and she let out a sigh that sent my ego soaring. I closed my hand around the shaft and started pulling the foreskin back slowly, so she could see the reddened head clearly, glossy, dripping from the tip.

—Fuck, what a beautiful cock you have —she said, kneeling on the sofa in front of me without letting go of the bowl—. And so thick. I never saw it this hard before.

—Careful with those words, or I’m going to finish right away.

—No, hold out. I want to see you work.

I was so turned on that the first transparent drops came almost immediately, sliding down my head and lubricating me completely. My hand went up and down with a wet, obscene sound that filled the silence in the sitting room. I tried bringing my hand to her mouth so she’d give me a lick, even if only for a second, even just the tip.

—No. We already said this time you’re on your own —she cut in, turning her face away but not taking her eyes off my cock for an instant.

This time? Does she plan to repeat it? If I was doing this for her —however good it felt—, I wanted something out of it too. But her tone allowed no bargaining, and the image of Marina naked in front of me, tits out and knees apart, holding the bowl with her eyes fixed on my hand, was worth any sacrifice.

I went slower on purpose, stretching out the moment, gripping the base tightly and gliding slowly up to the crown, twisting my wrist over the tip the way I like. I watched her breathing break every time I sped up. She didn’t even touch me. She just watched, with an intensity that turned me on more than any caress. Every so often she ran her tongue over her lips, and each gesture pushed me a little closer to the finish.

Then the filthy bitch spread her legs even wider and slid one hand between her thighs, without letting go of the bowl with the other. She started rubbing her clit in circles, and for the first time I could see her cunt properly open, pink, glossy, with a thread of discharge running down to her asshole. She shoved two fingers all the way in and pulled them out soaked.

—Keep going, don’t stop —she panted—. Imagine you’re fucking me. That you’re splitting my cunt open with that thick cock of yours.

—Fuck, Marina…

—Tell me how you’d fuck me. Come on, you little perv, tell me.

—I’d put you on all fours —I blurted, working myself faster—, and I’d shove it all the way to the hilt. I’d grab your hair and bury my whole cock inside you until you screamed.

—Yes… yes, like that… —she murmured, two fingers sliding in and out of her cunt at the same rhythm as my jerking—. And you’d come inside me, right? You’d fill my cunt with cum.

—All of it, I’d leave it all inside you.

Hearing her talk like that, dirty, with no filter at all, brought me to the edge in seconds. My cock swelled even more between my fingers and I felt the tingling climbing up from my balls.

—Tell me when you’re about to come —she asked softly, placing the bowl right under the head.

—Almost… almost there. I’m coming, I’m coming…

Just then, when I warned her I was about to blow, Marina grabbed the bikini panty and stuffed it into my mouth in one quick motion. The fabric, still warm and soaked with sweat and the juices she’d been releasing onto the sofa, filled my tongue with her smell. Those seconds of restraint, of keeping myself from blasting while she moved the bowl away and set it back in place, erupted into a brutal explosion. The first jet shot out and struck the bottom of the bowl with a dry smack. The second was even longer, a thick white rope curling over the cereal. Three or four more followed, shorter, finer, until I’d filled almost half the bowl with hot cum. The panty in my mouth muffled the groan that escaped my chest, and with her smell clinging to my palate I came harder than I’d in a very long time, shaking all over the sofa.

When the last drops came out, she still gave me something more: only then did she lean in to clean me with her mouth, sucking me slowly until I was spotless. She licked up every last trace of cum left on my head, gathered it with the tip of her tongue, and swallowed it while looking me in the eyes. Then she went down the shaft, licked my balls one by one, took them into her mouth and sucked them lovingly, until my cock and the whole package were clean, shining with saliva. Once she’d finished, she pulled out a pack of wipes so I could clean myself properly and calmly went back to eating her dessert, stirring my load into the cereal as if it were supermarket milk. She took the first spoonful into her mouth, closed her eyes, and moaned softly. My chocolate ice cream, meanwhile, had practically melted, turning into a milkshake.

—Hey —I protested, catching my breath—. You’ve got dessert, but mine’s turned into a puddle.

—Fine, here… —she said, lifting her foot back up toward my mouth, while she slid her free hand between her legs, ready to return the favor. Her fingers sank back into her cunt, this time without the bowl in the way, and she started rubbing her clit with her thumb while she shoved her foot down my throat, forcing me to suck each toe one by one.

And then I understood that that hadn’t been the dessert. It was the appetizer.