I masturbated with my roommate and she admitted something to me that turned me on like crazy

The red wine splashed on the cheap sofa when I let out a louder laugh. Lara, my roommate, tried to dab it up with the corner of a napkin, but I pulled her by the wrist.
“Leave it, we’ll clean it later. This story is too good to interrupt.”

The apartment smelled of cheap pizza and the sweet aroma of wine. It was December, the campus was empty, and we were the only souls in this concrete cubicle, wrapped in old blankets with some random romance movie serving only as background noise. Lara was the opposite of me: brown hair always tied in a low ponytail, baggy clothes that hid her body, a quietness that sometimes bordered on untouchable. But after almost three years sharing the same roof, I knew her. I knew the way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous, the gleam in her eyes when something truly interested her.
“It’s not possible that you never, I mean never, touch yourself,” I insisted, resting my glass on her leg over the blanket. “Me, for example, I can’t go without. It’s like brushing your teeth. A basic necessity for mental hygiene.”

She blushed, averting her gaze to the screen where a couple was kissing in a cheesy way.
“It’s just… it’s different for me. And you are… loud, Adriana.”
I let out another laugh. It was true. How many times had she caught me? Not from spying, but because the walls were thin and I was never one to disguise my pleasure. Screams, moans, the distinct sound of a hand hitting bare flesh. She always pretended not to hear, but I saw that blush rise up her neck the next day.
“And you, queen of discretion? How do you do it? Teach the master. Because I, apparently, was born without the shame gene.”

She shook her head, a timid smile playing on her lips.
“I don’t… I don’t do it that much.”
“Liar!” I shouted, poking her waist under the blanket. “Everyone does it. Even the holiest nun must have a vibrator hidden under her habit. Tell the truth, Lara. Have you ever touched yourself thinking about me?”
The shock on her face was almost palpable. Her eyes widened and she choked on her own breath. That… that was interesting. A pang of sickening and exciting curiosity ran down my spine.
“Adriana, for God’s sake!”
“What? It’s a valid question! We live together, we see each other naked in the bathroom, we share dirty laundry… curiosity is natural. I’ve thought about you.”
It was a half-truth. I thought about everyone at some point. But seeing her shock transform into something deeper, darker, was my cue to persist.

“Let’s make a deal,” I proposed, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. No judgments. Just two friends… exploring.”
She froze, looking at me like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. I didn’t wait for an answer. Slowly, I pushed the blanket covering my legs aside and slid my hand inside my cotton panties. My fingers found my swollen clit, already throbbing with the forbidden tension of the situation. I kept my gaze fixed on her.
“Come on, Lara. Don’t be afraid. It’s just a body. It’s just pleasure.”
For a moment, I thought she would run away. But then, with a hesitation that was almost painful to watch, her trembling hand disappeared under her own blanket. Her breathing became ragged. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with an electricity that hadn’t existed minutes before. The movie was just a blur of colors and meaningless sounds now.
“Talk to me,” I ordered softly, moving in slow circles over my own skin, my eyes glued to her embarrassed and excited face. “What do you imagine? What makes you whimper softly at night?”
She opened her mouth, but only a sigh came out.
“Talk.”

“I…” her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “I hear… the sounds from your room.”
My fingers stopped for a split second before resuming their movement, faster. My heart pounded against my ribs.
“What sounds?”
“The… the moans. From the girls you bring over. The sounds of… of spanks. The way they beg. And I… I lie in my bed and…” she swallowed hard, her hips beginning to move in a small, unconscious rhythm.
“And you what, Lara?” My voice was a thread of silk, pulling the confession out of her.
“And I get wet.” The confession came out in a whisper, as if it had freed her from a prison. “I get jealous of them.”

A shiver ran through my entire body, so intense that my orgasm seemed to hover right there, in front of me. Jealousy. That word, coming from the mouth of that quiet, demure girl, was the most erotic thing I had ever heard.
“Jealous of what?” I pressed, leaning forward, my burgundy V-neck exposing my small breasts. “Talk. Be specific.”
“Of the courage. Of the way you… dominate. How you make them beg for more. I hear the moans, the spanks… and I imagine it’s me. That it’s my ass that’s turning red. My mouth that’s begging for more.”
I couldn’t take it. I pushed my blanket away completely and stood up, standing in front of her. She looked at my body, at the soaked panties I barely covered with my hand.
“Stand up.”

She obeyed, hesitantly, letting the blanket fall onto the sofa. Her eyes were glazed, full of a desire that frightened her. I pulled her to the center of the rough living room rug.
“Turn around.”
She turned, and I placed my hand on the nape of her neck, pressing gently so she would lean forward, bracing her hands on the sofa. Her back formed a tense arch. I positioned myself behind her.
“You want to know what it’s like?” I whispered in her ear. “You want to know what my spank sounds like on your body?”

She gave an almost imperceptible nod, a moan trapped in her throat.
The first spank wasn’t hard, but it was precise. A dry crack that echoed in the silent room. She let out a small cry, a sound of surprise and pain and absolute pleasure.
“Did you like it?” I asked, rubbing my palm over the area that was now hot and red.
“Y-yes…” she moaned.
The second spank was harder. Her white skin was marked with the shape of my hand. She buried her face in the sofa, and her hips writhed.
“Is this what you hear? Is this what you imagine? Being my little slut?”
“Yes!” The word came out like a sob. “Please, Adriana…”
“‘Please,’ what?”
“More… spank me more.”
I obeyed. A series of quick, firm spanks, alternating between her buttocks. The room filled with the sound of impacts, our ragged breathing, the guttural moans she could no longer contain. I was drenched, my own pleasure a throbbing ache begging for relief.
I stopped suddenly. I pulled her up and turned her to face me. Her eyes were filled with tears, her mouth slightly open. I led her onto my lap, sitting on the sofa with her lying face down on top of me. Her hot pussy pressed against my thigh.

“Now say it again. What do you think of me?”
She whispered, her mouth against my neck: “I think you’re a slut. The worst and the best I’ve ever known.”
“And you? What are you, after asking for all this?”
She trembled violently, and I felt her warm wetness on my leg.
“I… I’m a slut too. Your slut.”
That was the trigger. A brutal orgasm exploded inside me, so strong it bent me in half. I screamed, holding her tightly, as endless waves of pleasure electrocuted me. I saw stars, the room spun. And she, sitting on my lap, grinding against my leg, moaned and convulsed through her own climax, a long, trembling howl of liberation.

When the dust settled, we stayed there, a tangle of sweaty, panting limbs, the smell of sex and wine permeating the air. She collapsed on my chest, her heart beating erratically against mine.
And I smiled, looking at the ceiling. The quiet and demure Lara had a secret so dirty and delicious. And now, it was all mine.