Breakout
The moaning sounds resumed. They weren’t loud, but I found myself wanting to pick up my boot and hammer on the wall with the heel. I was annoyed. I was jealous. Not of either one of the participants, but of the fact that they – Emma and her partner of the week – were able to have sex, and I wasn’t.
Even if I could persuade Cameron to visit me on the weekend, we’d have serious trouble both fitting in the small bed that was all I could fit in the tiny room. And for what? Fifteen minutes of foreplay and another fifteen under him before he fell asleep? Emma and her friend had been making love for at least two hours now. There were gaps between the peaks, for sure, but each peak lasted longer than Cameron could.
Cameron’s endurance and my slower response is why I usually had to finish myself off after he went to sleep. Which was okay, and necessary, but hardly intimate or fulfilling. That was even more true of my solo outings, here at my off-campus room. They occasionally met a need, but they were never really satisfying.
Emma, next door, was clearly being satisfied, and satisfying her partner, even though it was – most likely, according to what Emma had said before – a one-night stand. And so I was jealous. Not of my roomie or her partner, but of her ability to find passion in this shabby apartment.
Still, it wouldn’t keep me awake. The sounds themselves weren’t so loud. I was frustrated, and too out of sorts to feel a need for self-gratification, so I closed my eyes, and within a couple of minutes the frustration no longer affected me.
~~~~~
The shower was running when I returned from my run in the morning, so I brewed coffee, and had just seated myself at the kitchen table with my cup when the shower door opened. A tall blonde girl emerged, towelling her hair. If she lifted her arms any higher I’d be able to tell if she was wearing underwear beneath the tee shirt she wore.
She looked up as she turned and did a double-take as she saw me. “Oh, hey,” she said. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your shower. I didn’t think anyone would be up yet.”
I grinned. “It’s six-thirty. I just got back from a run.”
Her eyes had opened wide. “Damn, that late? I really didn’t mean to stay over… oh, hey, I’m Margot. I’m a friend of…” She clearly was having trouble with my roomie’s name.
“Emma?” I suggested.
“Yeah, right. Yeah. Emma,” she said, her expression chagrined. “I’m just on my way out.”
“Want a coffee before you go?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Let me just go get dressed.”
As she headed back to Emma’s room, her tee hugged her butt close enough that I could answer the underwear question in the affirmative.
~~~~~
“Thanks for the coffee,” Margot said, as she tipped a blue sweetener packet into her cup and began to stir.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m Tiffany. Tiff.”
“Nice to meet you, Tiff,” she said. “Are you a friend of Emma’s?”
I shrugged. “I guess, though really I’m just a roomie. A service put us together and found this place. It’s cheap, but everything works.”
“I’m sure the walls are thin,” she said. “I hope we didn’t keep you awake.”
“Not so’s you’d notice,” I lied.
“Do you and Emma ever…?” She glanced at my roomie’s closed door.
Shaking my head, I said, “I have a boyfriend back home in Chicago.”
“Chicago’s not here,” Margot pointed out, helpfully.
I rolled my eyes. “What I mean is, I’m straight. I’ve got no problem with Emma’s choice of company,” – well, other than she gets to have company – “but it isn’t for me.”
Margot pouted. “Shame. If you’d been avoiding roommate drama rather than avoiding women, I’d have asked for your number.” Her eyes took a quick tour of what she could see over the table – short brown hair, which badly needed washing and brushing out, hazel eyes, small nose, black C-cup sports bra likely visible through my thin white tee – and sighed. “If you ever feel like changing teams, Emma knows where to find me.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Thanks, I think, but I’m good.”
~~~~~
When Margot left, I showered. Not long after I was done, Emma emerged from her room, blinking, her golden brown curls in complete disarray. She was in her pajamas, a bottle-green cami with lace trim and matching ankle-length pants. “I smell coffee,” she croaked.
“Sit down,” I said, “I’ll get it.”
She looked up at the table, still blinking. “Did I hear voices a while ago?”
“Margot had coffee before she left,” I said, as I presented her with a cup.
“Margot?” She blinked again, staring at me, and I realized she probably didn’t have her contacts in. “Oh, right, Margot.”
“Jesus,” I said, expelling my breath in a laugh. “She had the same trouble with your name. I take it you aren’t that close.”
“We’ve moved in the same circles for a while,” Emma said. “Never got together before, Üçyol travesti though.”
“And never again?” I suggested.
She shrugged. “Probably not.” Then her eyes drifted away, and she said, “Although…”
“Tell me about it,” I groused. “I was wishing I could move my bed to the far wall.”
Emma blinked at me again, then grinned. “If you had a bed like mine, it would be easy.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I guess it would.”
I’d seen Emma’s room. She had a mat with a Japanese futon bed rather than a bed frame.
“And it also means no creaking bed springs,” I added.
“Were we really so loud?” Emma asked. There was concern in her voice, but her expression was hard to tell with her eyes screwed up for focus.
“Nah,” I said, with a sigh. “Just made me wish I could find something like that.”
“Well, you could,” objected Emma.
I snorted, then got up from the table to pour myself another coffee. I topped Emma’s up before I sat down again. “Yeah, Margot implied she’d personally help me to ‘switch teams’.” I made air quotes as I said it.
“She did, did she?” Emma’s tone was dry, and her eyebrows were raised, but she was still trying to focus.
“Go put your glasses on,” I said. “You don’t make much sense when I can’t see you.”
Emma humphed, then frowned slightly. “Don’t you mean when I can’t see you?” she asked, as she stood.
“No,” I replied, “because the vacant look when you’re trying to see makes you seem not there.”
She grinned. “Fair point,” she said, and headed to her room.
She returned a moment later wearing dark green-framed glasses. She had pulled her hair into better shape, and she seemed far more alert now that she wasn’t scowling at everything. “But you could,” she said, continuing her earlier point. She sat and picked up her cup. “You do have a vibe?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve always felt it’s… second best, I guess. Too impersonal. I don’t usually get there with Cameron, but when I do, it’s better.”
Emma considered me for a moment, then took a sip of coffee. “I could help you out,” she said.
This time I blinked. “That wouldn’t work. You know it wouldn’t. Like I told Margot earlier, I’m straight.”
She shrugged. “You don’t need to be attracted to a person for them to give you the big O,” she said, quite casually. “Especially if they have some skill.”
I felt my face warm, even though the idea was kinda squicky. “You… uhh… have skill?”
Emma breathed on her fingernails and pretended to polish them on the strap of her cami. “You heard us last night, right?”
I made a face. “Ugh. Just, no. And what would you get out of it?”
“The satisfaction of helping a friend,” she said, piously.
“Jesus,” I responded, shaking my head. I took the rest of my coffee to the sink and poured it out. It was time to get to my first class.
~~~~~
Monday was usually the day Emma brought a girl home. There was a social event every week at a club that catered to LGBT patrons. Sometimes she came home in the wee hours, and once or twice she’d returned alone, but usually, Monday was the day that I wished I’d picked up earplugs at the pharmacy.
The rest of the week she was a diligent student. She worked at the desk in her room. It was more comfortable than mine, since she could roll her bed up and give the illusion of space. We shared a TV in the kitchen, but neither of us used it often.
And, sure enough, the next Monday found me trying to ignore the sounds from Emma’s room.
I tried not to let it bother me. And mostly, it didn’t, or at least I tolerated it better than the previous week. I mean, I understood that I had nothing to be irritated about. I wouldn’t begrudge Emma her pleasure. I just wished I had even a fraction of her opportunity.
Deciding that this time I’d be able to ease my frustrations, I did so, with help from my vibe. It wasn’t great, but it was adequate, and I slept well afterward.
~~~~~
Whoever my roomie’s evening companion had been this week, she’d left in the night. The shower was mine when I got back from my run, and Emma was less bleary when she came through. She’d even managed to get her contacts in.
“This’ll never do,” I said. “You’re awake at a normal hour. It must have been a boring night.”
“Not so boring,” she replied, taking the coffee I offered her. “Maybe not as… energetic as, umm…”
“Margot,” I said, with a roll of my eyes.
“Yeah. But good.”
“So tell me,” I said. “Why would it be any better to let another person get you off than to do it yourself? If you’re not attracted to them, that is?”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about it, are you?”
I shook my head, though I couldn’t entirely deny it, since I wouldn’t have asked if it hadn’t been on my mind. “Just answer the question.”
She smirked briefly, then asked, “Are you ticklish?”
“What the hell does that have to do with Üçyol travestileri anything?” I asked.
She pitched her voice low, to imitate me. “Just answer da question.”
“A little,” I admitted. “Why?”
“Have you ever tried to tickle yourself?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve tried to figure out exactly where I’m ticklish, so I know what to avoid. It’s uncomfortable.”
“And it doesn’t really tickle, does it?”
“Right.”
“Same thing,” Emma said. “Kinda the same. When you touch yourself you know what you want. You know what you’ll do. You do what you like, sure, but there’s no novelty. Novelty and a touch of the unknown, and the involvement of another warm body, they all add up. Even if you don’t much like the other person.”
“I didn’t say I don’t like you,” I objected. “I just don’t feel anything for you. Which would make it weird.”
“Would it?” she asked, her expression seeming genuinely curious. “Yeah, maybe it would.”
~~~~~
What she said stayed with me. I didn’t like being tickled, but I could see the correlation. Another person tickling – like Cameron, the ass, even though I told him no – affected me much more than if I poked at the ticklish places. If I tried, it was just irritating until it became painful.
It would certainly be weird, though. Especially considering what she might be feeling, since she was attracted to girls. What would she be wanting to do to me?
Maybe nothing, of course. I hadn’t asked her if she would feel anything for me. I didn’t think I’d want to know, since any answer would probably make me uncomfortable.
~~~~~
“I can’t believe I’m even thinking this far,” I said, next morning. “But what about, maybe trying, but not all the way? Let me go do my own thing in my own room at the end.”
“Tiff,” she said, “I am a master of edging.”
“Master?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
She grinned. “If I say mistress it has entirely the wrong implications. Just say, I can leave you wanting more, which you can then find yourself.”
“So, uhh, just fingers, right? No mouth, no, uhh, full body contact, or whatever you do with your girlfriends?”
“However you want,” Emma agreed. “Bring your vibe, if you like. Or don’t. I won’t need it. Tonight?”
I shivered slightly at the sudden substance of her offer. “Uh, yeah. If I don’t decide to back out. I might.”
Emma shrugged. “Up to you, one hundred percent.”
~~~~~
I found myself nervously preparing for the evening during the couple of classes I had, and was clumsy during lab. This was a stupid idea. But if I could get even a small part of what her girlfriends got… I wanted that. Or something like it.
Was it being unfaithful to Cam? It wasn’t being faithful, I guessed, but was it really wrong, if there was no affection and no sex? Especially if I finished the job myself? Really, was it any more unfaithful than solo pleasure? And that’s something I pursued even with Cam asleep beside me.
What about clothing? I had a skimpy sleepshirt that was mostly for if Cam was around, and a tee that I usually slept in. The sleepshirt was little more than a negligee, which could give Emma entirely the wrong idea, and the tee might be long enough to be okay around the apartment, but if Emma were to have access to work she’d have to pull it up over my panties, so the length wouldn’t make it any less revealing. I wore a robe around the apartment, but that wouldn’t be an option. Pajamas would work better. They could be partly unfastened without being removed.
So after lab I headed to the department store and bought myself lightweight pajamas. Royal blue silk-satin – for the low price the claimed material was dubious, but it felt good, thin and soft – with a button-front top, more modest than Emma’s cami, and drawstring shorts. Weird situation or not, they’d be good to have.
~~~~~
Emma made mac and cheese. That and ramen were fundamentals of our cuisine, though one or other of us occasionally experimented on the weekend, if we didn’t eat out separately.
Then she asked, casually, “Are you backing out?”
Her expression was neutral. If she’d looked either eager or apprehensive I probably would have done. Instead, I shook my head.
“Come through when you’re ready, then,” she said, and went to her room.
I washed the dishes, since she’d cooked, then changed into my new pajamas in my room. They were so comfortable that I wished I’d had them all semester.
~~~~~
Emma’s futon bed was considerably larger than the bland metal frame in my room. Since she would roll it up every day it could take up much more space. Lowering myself onto it was a strange experience in several senses. It was so low that sitting on it felt odd. It was softer than it looked. Most of all, though, there was a girl lying on the right side, propped up on her elbow, dark golden curls spilling out behind Travesti üçyol her, watching me through green-framed glasses.
I lay on my back, stretched along the futon. I assumed that’s what Emma would want me to do, and she didn’t redirect me. The pillow was small, and felt almost like a lightweight beanbag. I sat up again and picked it up.
“Wriggle the back of your head into it,” Emma advised. “It will keep its shape. They’re really comfortable to sleep on.”
So I lay back down, and the pillow worked as she’d claimed.
The duvet was coiled up behind Emma. She unrolled it over us. Then she took off her glasses, folded them on the mat at the head of the futon, and shook her hair out behind her. “Last chance to chicken out,” she said.
I shook my head once, then said, “But you promise you’ll stop in time.”
“Mmhmm,” she said, then lowered herself all the way onto the bed, facing me.
~~~~~
The duvet was pulled up to our shoulders, so I couldn’t see Emma’s hand, but I saw her arm move, then felt her fingers against my belly. She walked them down my body to my shorts, then slipped them inside, extending them over my panties.
The waistband of the shorts tightened around me. “Let me loosen them,” I whispered, and unfastened the bow, as Emma’s hand cupped my pussy and began to squeeze.
She was gentle, but the pressure of her palm against my sex was insistent, and I felt myself start to tingle with the stirring of arousal. Although as I felt the sensation, I realized that I’d been feeling something akin to it for a long time. The anticipation of Emma’s fingers on me had been more thrilling than I’d admitted, and had prepared me better than I’d realized. So when I began to feel my breathing deepen, I knew that the excitement had been building within me for some time.
Emma’s eyes were locked onto my face. I glanced over at her, but the intensity with which she was studying my reactions was unnerving. Clearly she was taking great care not to make me uncomfortable, but the result was that her efforts to avoid that outcome were causing it. So I stared at the ceiling and tried to remember not to glance over toward her.
The rhythm of her hand was slow and sensuous, and I was anticipating each squeeze with a slight press of my hips, but it still felt to me that my arousal was mild. If I’d been using my vibe I’d have been much further along. So, when Emma drew her hand higher, I was surprised to realize that my panties were slick against her fingers.
Then she pressed her hand back lower, but this time it was inside the waistband of my panties. She hadn’t even gone inside me, but her fingers against my pussy lips made my belly churn with desire. The heel of her thumb pressed to the mound of my clit, and she rolled her hand from side to side as her fingertips slipped just barely inside.
My heart raced as I continued to stare at the ceiling, but it was hard to tell whether it was directly the result of Emma’s touch, or my unease at the whole situation. Even though I’d overcome the squick factor, it wasn’t entirely absent, and a girl touching me inside felt wrong.
But it didn’t feel bad. Quite the opposite. Especially as one finger slipped a little further in and began to circle.
Each motion of her finger inside me set up a counterpressure against the sensitive place under the back of her thumb. To every action, there’s an equal and opposite…
I snorted.
Emma’s fingers stopped moving, though she didn’t withdraw them. “You okay?” she asked.
I shook my head. “School on my brain. I’m good.” I was surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded. I glanced over to see Emma nod before she resumed her work.
The accidental interruption had broken some of my resistance to the situation. I guess a moment’s normalcy had set my feelings in better perspective, and I was able to relax. At least in that one sense, because the sensations building in my clit were far from relaxing. I parted my lips to ease my deep breathing, my chest rising higher under the duvet.
If Cam would treat me like this… I mused, then felt a pang of resentment. If he had been a little more persistent with foreplay like this, I might have been able to climax with him. Had that ever been important to him?
Emma’s hand shifted a little, and I felt a light caress directly against my clit. “Hnnn…” I grunted, the muscles in my lower belly tensing. The caress became a steady roll, and I began to pant. My thighs had begun to tighten, pressing my sex against Emma’s touch. God, this feeling was pure arousal, perhaps even more so than if there’d been attraction and lust. Not wanting the feeling to end, I managed to suppress a moan, but it made me shudder. My breasts felt warm under the duvet, and I wanted to push it back, but I didn’t want to reveal the depth of my arousal to Emma’s intense scrutiny.
It didn’t help. She must have had a pretty good handle on my state. I felt her palm slide up my body, fingers slipping out of me. She lightly pinched my clit before withdrawing completely, and I squirmed, letting out the moan I’d been trying to hold back.
“I think it’s time you went back to your room,” she murmured. “I hope your toy is charged.”