Truth or dare with my roommates

I saw the ad online. Roommate wanted. Sharehouse in Cottesloe. It was fairly cheap, and close enough to the beach to walk. I sent a quick message and soon had a reply.

Abby, her name was. A quick search of her profile told me she was from London. Dark hair, tanned, an athletic body. We spent a bit of time talking as she tried to figure out if I was a serial killer or not, and on a Tuesday after work I went around to check the place out. It was nice, just as the pictures had said. An older brick townhouse, with vines creeping over the walls, french-style shutters, and balcony railings made of wrought iron.

I knocked on the door and after a moment it opened. Abby stood there, a little shorter than me, in activewear. She smiled and we hugged. She told me she’d just come back from the gym.

Abby gave me a quick tour of the house, showed me the spare room, which had a view not of the ocean but toward the east, over countless rows of suburbia. She told me they wanted to find someone quick, since the rent was pretty high split between only two people.

“Who’s your other roommate?” I asked.

“Gia,” Abby said. “She’s at work at the moment. She’s lovely though.”

I thought to myself if Gia was as lovely as Abby I’d be a lucky man.

I left the house a little later. Abby told me she would speak with Gia and they would get back to me later. I didn’t have to wait long. That night Abby messaged me, and told me Gia had agreed and if I was still keen to move in it could be done on the weekend. And so I came to live with Gia and Abby.

Gia was just as beautiful as Abby, if not moreso. She’d been born down south, Margaret River way, and was a sterotypical surfer girl. Skin tanned to a deep bronze from the sun, blonde hair, a body shaped like a statue of Venus. It soon became quite obvious that I was in a difficult position: two insanely attractive roommates parading around in the same house as me. I started masturbating during my shower in the mornings only so I could clear my head.

Abby worked from home as a management consultant. I never quite understood what she did, no matter how many times she explained it. Her job left her with a lot of free time, which she filled with exercise. Abby was an exercise freak. She went for a run early in the morning, then went straight to the gym immediately afterwards. She would go again in the afternoon, and come back in the evenings to swim at the beach. I joined her for a run on occasion, and all three of us went for evening swims when our schedules permitted.

Gia worked as a waitress at a cafe during the day and picked up nights at a local bar. When she had free time she would load her surfboard into the back of her Suzuki and drive up and down the coastal road to find a spot where the waves were breaking well.

At that time I was bartending at another bar, not the one Gia worked at, and when I had free time I would write short novellas which I sold online and made a decent amount of money from. Not enough to stop working, but enough I didn’t have to worry about picking up extra shifts to pay rent. I had deep down, as all writers do, a desire to write something big, and spent a lot of time working on a novel drawn from my experiences living on a station. Of course I never finished it and probably never will.

It was a hot summer day when things changed between us, the kind of day where the heat shimmers in the air with a physical presence and the cicadas sing in the bushes. A day like that was one where you wanted to stay beside a pool or at the beach. I had gone for a swim that morning, then sat down to do some writing in the dining room, hoping the breeze would cut through from the ocean. Abby sat on the couch, watching some reality show on Netflix. The breeze we had hoped for had never materialised, and so we sat with the windows open, wearing the barest amount of clothes we could. Me in a singlet and footy shorts, her in a crop top and denim shorts.

My body was covered in sweat, and I had a water bottle beside me so I could keep hydrated. A little electric fan on the other end of the table provided some measure of relief, but not enough.

It was about ten thirty when Abby sighed, in a way which suggested she wanted me to notice. I said nothing, and a few minutes later she sighed again, more exaggerated this time.

I finished the word and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m bored,” she said. “This is boring.”

“Watch something else, then.”

“There’s nothing on.”

I heard her shift on the couch and glanced over. She lay on her stomach, facing towards me, her feet raised in the air behind her. There was mischief in her dark eyes.

“Let’s play a game,” she said. “Truth or dare.”

“Are we back in high school or something?”

“Just play with me, please?”

I thought for a moment, then put my pen aside. “Alright, fine.”

She grinned. “Class. I’ll go first. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What was the first time you were drunk?”

I thought for a moment, then told her it was at university, when I’d gone to a pub with some other students and drank until I was throwing up in the bushes outside.

“Truth or dare?” I asked her.

“Truth,” she said.

“Do you like me or Gia better?”

She laughed. “Gia, obviously. That was just a waste of a question. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever been in trouble with the police?”

“No. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you?”

Abby grinned. “Once or twice. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Abby paused, her legs kicking back and forth behind her. “Have you ever fantasised about me or Gia?”

I remained still, hoping she couldn’t hear my suddenly racing heart. Of course I had. I had even been thinking that morning as Abby had walked out of her room how much I wanted to bend her over the couch and pound her until she couldn’t walk.

I had gone too long without saying anything. Abby must have read the admission in my eyes because she cackled. “Oh, you have! Come on then, give us the details.”

“You didn’t ask for the details,” I managed to croak.

She pouted. “Spoilsport.”

“Truth or dare?”

The wicked look returned to her eyes. “Dare.”

My mouth went dry. I could sense the tension in the way my heart was racing, the way her eyes had not moved from mine, the way her cheeks were flushed from the heat. There was a line both of us were tiptoeing, knowing if we stepped across it something fundamental would change in our arrangement. I thought again of her draped across the couch, sweat beading on her tanned skin, and the nights I’d stroked myself to sleep thinking of her tight, warm, wet pussy.

“Take your shirt off,” I said.

Her lips parted slightly, and she smirked. She sat up on her knees, and, never breaking eye contact, took the hem of her shirt and dragged it up and over her breasts, then removed it completely and tossed it aside.

Her breasts were small enough they could fit into the palm of my hands. Her nipples were dark and already hard, though whether from the game or the heat I didn’t know. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin, and I had the desperate desire there to lick it off.

“Truth or dare?” She asked.

I seemed to be having an out of body experience. My mouth moved without my consent. “Dare.”

“Take your shirt off.”

I hestitated a moment, then the heat building in my loins made the decision. I pulled my shirt off in one motion. Abby ran her tongue over her lips as she stared at my chest, lean and with the slightest hint of muscularity. I was no bodybuilder or athlete, but I worked hard to keep myself in reasonable shape.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she said.

I stood, walked a few paces toward her. “Take my shorts off.”

She didn’t even hesitate. At once she crossed the room to me, knelt down and pulled my shorts down. My cock strained against the fabric of my underwear, and the bulge was plainly visible. Abby stared at it for a moment before she looked up to me though her thick dark lashes.

“Truth or dare?” She asked.

“Dare,” I said.

“Fuck my face like it’s a pussy,” she said, and she opened her mouth, let her tongue hang out.

I took hold of my cock and guided it into her warm mouth, then began to thrust in and out, slowly, still a little hesitant. Abby, naked on her knees before me, my cock in her mouth. I was half certain this was all some kind of vivid dream and I would soon awaken. But for the time being, I would enjoy it for what it was.

Abby’s hands trailed up my legs and settled on my quads. I reached down and put my hand on the back of her head, and began to thrust a little harder, a little quicker. I couldn’t help but give off a small groan as I felt her tongue flick against the underside of my cock.

Before long, I felt myself getting close. I glanced down and saw Abby looking up at me, and the look in her eyes was almost enough to send me over the edge. I tried to pull myself out but she gripped my thighs and held me in place, while she bobbed her head back and forth.

“Fuck,” I said. “I’m close. I’m going to come.”

She didn’t stop, only looked up at me from behind her eyelashes with a wicked look in her eyes. That look was too much, and I felt my orgasm coming like a wave. I grabbed the back of her head and pushed it down onto my cock as my cock began to pulse, spurts of cum shooting into her mouth. I groaned as the sensation overwhelmed me, the weeks of tension which had been building like a thunderstorm breaking in only a few minutes.

At last the wave subsided, and I pulled my half-limp cock from Abby’s mouth. She let me do so, and wiped her lips with one finger and a bit of a giggle.

I didn’t want this to end, not right then. My blood was still pumping in my ears, and I still felt the primal desire as I looked at Abby’s naked, sweaty body.

I bent down, picked up Abby and lifted her onto the couch. She squealed and I bent down to pull her shorts and panties off, then took a moment to appreciate the sight. Her pussy lips were glistening, from both sweat and arousal. Her breaths came heavy as she stared at me.

“Well?” She asked.

I leaned over and met her lips with mine, but only for a few moments. Then I began to kiss my way down her body, down her neck, to her collarbone, then down her sternum, lavishing her small breasts, sucking and gently biting the nipples until they were rock hard, then down the length of her navel. I stopped at her mound, only an inch or so from her lips. I went instead to her thighs, kissing one then the other, spreading her legs wide apart for better access.

When I finally got to her pussy she was whimpering. I started with one long, slow lick from the base upwards, eliciting a shiver from her. Then again, even slower than the first time, tasting the saltiness of her cunt. I sealed my mouth around her clit and sucked on it and she grabbed the back of my head with both hands, tangling her fingers in my hair.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “your mouth is fucking magical.”

I grinned and ran my tongue over her clit, back and forth, and each time I finished she rocked her hips forward and whimpered. It didn’t take long before I sensed her orgasm approach: short, quick breaths, her grip on the back of my head tightening, her movements becoming more frequent and frenetic. She moaned loud, loud enough I wondered if people down on the street below could hear her through the open window. The thought sent a perverse sense of pride through me, at the idea of other people knowing it was me who was making this gorgeous girl squirm and quiver. I increased my ministrations, and she became more vocal, rubbing herself against my face with more intensity.

When she did come it was like a hurricane. She dug her nails into my scalp and screamed, shouting my name. I kept sucking and licking until her hips stopped moving and she lay still, and only then did I retreat. She grabbed my face with both hands and pulled me in for a hungry kiss, biting at my lower lip.

“Holy fuck,” she said, when she pulled away. “Mark, your tongue.”

“Yes?”

“I’m never going to need a vibrator again. Not with that tongue.”

The beast within me, the lizard brain, howled at that, the monkey beat its chest with its fists. I kissed her and felt myself harden. One of her hands snuck down and wrapped around my cock and I thrust into her grip a few times before she guided me into herself.

She was warm and wet and tight, and I was glad I had already come once, because she felt so good I knew I would have burst at once. I started off with a slow roll of my hips, still massaging her lips with mine. The motion tore a little whimper from her lips and I began to increase my pace slowly.

“Ooh yes,” she said, “fuck me like that.”

One of my hands went down to grip her hip while the other supported my weight. I breathed heavy, like I was running a marathon, my focus more on Abby than anything else. The feeling of her pussy around me, the sight of her compact, muscular body, and of her eyes closed, mouth half open in pleasure as she whimpered and moaned, all of it was almost enough that I came again right there. I pushed the feeling away.

In the heat, I soon became sweaty, a layer of liquid building on my chest and back. I saw the same happening for Abby, and leaned forward to lick a trail upward from her abs up to the crevice between her tits.

“Fuck,” she said, more as an exhalation than a word. “You feel so good. Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

I grinned. “Wasn’t planning to.”

After a few minutes her body began to shake and her moans became louder. Again I wondered if anyone could hear us outside, perhaps someone walking along the path which cut through to the beach. It didn’t particularly matter if they did. I wasn’t going to stop fucking her for anything.

Her nails dug into my lower back, where she had gripped it in an attempt to pull me closer. She screamed my name as she came, her legs wrapping around me, making sure I couldn’t pull out of her. I slowed a little, so as not to overwhelm her, and waited until she fell silent and tried to catch her breath.

“Oooh,” she said, “much better way to spend the morning, don’t you think?”

I laughed. “One hundred percent.”

I bent down and kissed her, while still inside. I flexed a little, just enough to draw a moan against my lips. Then I pulled out of her and took hold of her leg. “On your knees.”

Abby obeyed without a word, turning so she was on her hands and knees. She adjusted her hips so her ass was pinning up at me and I could see her wet, glistening pussy. She gave her ass a little wiggle.

I took hold of my cock and pressed the head against the entrance of her pussy. Then I pushed in, slowly, until I was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” Abby said, her voice little more than a shaky breath.

I pulled halfway out, then thrust in again, and repeated the action. Soon I was pounding away like an animal. I grabbed the flesh of her ass and pulled her back against me each time I pounded her, and the sensation was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Each thrust made her moan or scream my name.

A hand slipped around and ran over my chest, and another one came down over my shoulder to do the same. The soft flesh of two breasts pressed against my back. In a panic I pulled out of Abby and glanced behind me to find Gia there, naked as Abby and I were.

She smiled. “Don’t stop on my behalf.”