Missing the Point


Emily and Hannah were roommates. Almost strangers. They shared little in common, and Hannah came and went as she pleased. Emily stuck to herself, reading curled on the couch in the living room.

Every day Hannah timed her showers for when Emily was reading in the living room, which would have been unremarkable under normal circumstances. Hannah undressed in her bedroom but walked – bare naked – down the hallway, past the kitchen and living room to the bathroom. Her breasts were small and firm, her smile warm, and her bush wild, furry, and dark. Emily tried to keep her eyes lowered but failed. Hannah walked with a naked confidence that Emily admired. Neither said anything to the other.

Every day this naked ritual continued. It was completely unnecessary. Hannah could have undressed in the bathroom, or worn a robe, or wrapped herself in a towel. Any of those choices would have been… normal. But Hannah stripped down and walked the whole way, in full view of Emily, in full frivolous nudity. Emily was puzzled and intrigued.

Maybe she’s a lesbian, Emily thought. But Hannah brought home a man and the bed banged hard against the bedroom wall that night. Or could be bi, Emily conceded. Emily blushed when Hannah strolled naked to the shower, trying to keep her eyes on her book, but still stealing glances at her trim roommate. The idea of kissing Hannah unsettled Emily – she hadn’t thought of making out with a girl before – but the more she imagined, the more exciting it seemed.

How far would she go? Emily thought she would go all the way, if it came to that. The idea of tasting Hannah’s nipples, and kissing her way south made Emily get all dewy herself, and she salivated at the thought of her tongue dipping deep. She masturbated every night, licking her fingers and imagining the taste was Hannah’s juice and not her own, cumming so hard she buried her face in her pillow to muffle her moans.

Hannah, on the other hand, had no idea that Emily was growing infatuated with her. Hannah had had a very religious upbringing, and while she’d thrown off many of those inhibitions after leaving her father’s house, her childhood had left fundamental desires buried. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she went out of her way to strut naked by Emily. It felt to Hannah like she was trying to prove something to Emily by her nudity – daring her roommate to take a good look. She had the strongest urge to force Emily to admire her body, to compete with Emily’s books with her bare flesh.

Hannah strolled by lazily each day, nude and tingling, and Emily sat dutifully on the couch, hiding behind a book. If she’d felt uncomfortable, Emily could have avoided the ritual by staying in her room. Hannah hoped that Emily felt something at seeing her naked body, but Emily was good at pretending not to notice.

Hannah wanted to stride over and rip the book from the young woman’s hands, toss it flapping across the room, and wrestle her down on the couch. Emily would fight her, but Hannah was strong. She would grab her wrists and straddle her, pinning her, Hannah’s pussy pressed against Emily’s belly. Her shirt would ride up during the struggle, and Hannah’s folds would leave a trail of wet heat against Emily’s soft, undulating belly.

They would wrestle, panting, but Hannah would win. She would punish Emily for resisting by grinding her naked hips against the girl, biting Emily’s lips as she kissed her.

But Hannah never tore the book out of Emily’s hands. She walked past every day, feeling Emily’s eyes on her nakedness, excited by the tension in her tummy. And Emily would curl on the couch, nipples tightening and breath catching in her throat, imagining the feel of Hannah’s tongue tracing her navel as she arched her back.

Day after day nothing happened. Hannah denied her own desires and entertained fantasies of restraining Emily, forcing her to do things Hannah was sure Emily couldn’t reciprocate. She would tie her up, spank her, and make her lap at her pussy. She didn’t know that Emily made herself come imaging Hannah’s cunt slipping messily over her gasping lips and tongue. Emily wanted to bathe in Hannah, and Hannah to smother Emily, but neither was aware of the other’s desire.

Hannah brought home man after man. They plowed her thoroughly, and she came jarringly to the feeling of cock-thrusting deep in her heat, the men bouncing her breasts and slamming the bedframe against the wall. On the other side of the wall, Emily gasped into her pillow, fingers deep and dripping with her juices, as she jealously consumed Hannah’s well-fucked moaning rhythm. She imagined Hannah finger-fucking her, or with a dildo, making her own bed knock against the wall. Emily imagined Hannah’s date fucking her own pussy from behind while Emily devoured her roommate’s cunt. The thought made her come with a vengeance, squirming over her sheets at the very thought of such a threesome.

Emily and Hannah lived together for the rest of that year, but they never touched. When Hannah moved out she left a note for Emily:

I was naked but you couldn’t see the real me.

Emily held the note in her trembling hands. She didn’t cry. She used the note as a bookmark, a reminder of a longing she barely understood. A new roommate moved in, a shy fellow from Arkansas with a wispy goatee. He liked to sit and read on the couch with his stork-legs tucked up beneath him.

Emily undressed in her room. She walked confidently, naked, down the long hallway to the bathroom for her shower, lingering in full view of the couch. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, and the tingle which felt both familiar and fresh. She ran her finger idly through the tawny curls on her mound, knowing that his gaze followed her every move. A grin flashed like a passing ray of sun across her face as she graced him with the sight of her simple, eager curves.

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