James and I had planned to get married for the longest time. It seemed to take forever for him to find the romantic moment for him to kneel and ask me to be his bride.
The ring was perfect. I said YES!
I was so excited to finally plan my wedding. I had been imagining every detail since I was seven or eight. I knew the kind of dress I’d wear, the church we would have it in, the way I would look as I walked down the aisle to become Mrs. James Hook. It would be beautiful. I would be beautiful. It would be perfect and would be etched into the memory of every girl in the room. They would aspire to match it in their own weddings.
The day of the wedding came and it was everything I could have hoped for. Everything was perfect and I remember every single moment: getting up, getting dressed, frantically looking for a missing bridesmaid, walking down the aisle, James slipping the ring on my finger, the thrill as he lifted my veil, the smell of Angie’s perfume as he kissed me.
I didn’t make the connection to that scent until much later. The honeymoon was romantic and moving into our condo overlooking the river was just another part of my dream.
I settled into my married life. But, unlike in my dreams, James did not.
Not only was he carrying on with my friend Angie but I learned that he had been cheating with Marie, and he had gotten some stripper pregnant. I was livid.
James ruined my dream of perfection and didn’t seem to care. I kicked him out, filed for divorce, and moved on. I wasn’t going to let his low life ways ruin my happiness. I moved on. Sure, I still wore the ring because it was pretty and I was keeping it and the other crap he had left behind as a reminder not to let anyone get under my skin again. Ever again.
My life would move on and he would have to deal with his baby mammas and whatever else on his own.
A few months passed and I was meandering through the quaint shops that line a section of town that everyone calls the “Alleys”. Really they were just a couple side streets that got blocked off to become a hipster open air mall. It wasn’t much but sometimes I could find some good deals.
I was looking at some locally made pottery when I heard a familiar voice calling my name.
“Hey Audrey!” It was Lena. Lena wasn’t an ugly girl by any means. She just had a bad habit of picking unattractive trends. This was exactly the type of place she would spend time in. “I haven’t seen you since… in a while.” I tried not to focus on her uneven eyebrows as she clumsily referenced the farce my once perfect wedding had become.
“Hi Lena,” I said and she pulled me in for a hug and I relented. Simultaneously I tried to be friendly but not have her mess up my hair or pass the smell of whatever she had stepped in on to me. She was the type who liked to touch.
“How have you been?” she asked insisting to hold my hands. I could tell by her voice she was mocking the failure of my short, doomed marriage to James. I could feel her fingers fiddling with the ring on my finger. I tried to ignore the feeling that she might try to pull it off. She looked at my hand and then back to my face. “Did you get married again?” Already, so soon, even though you couldn’t keep a man interested… She didn’t say those last things but I felt them.
I shook my head. “I like the ring. It would be a waste to keep it packed away,” I said what should have been obvious. She tilted her head and nodded quickly. She squeezed my hands.
“I heard that you were looking for a roommate for your apartment,” she blurted out. I assumed she was done trying to humiliate me about my failed marriage. Or perhaps she was trying a different tactic.
“Condo,” I corrected her. I ignored the fact that she had clearly been gossiping about me to someone. I had long since realized that people delighted in talking about me regardless of circumstance. But I was above this kind of pettiness. “I have the space and it could help a little with fees and utilities. Nothing major.” It wasn’t like I needed someone to pay to keep it but the utilities had been a shock when I got the first bill in my name.
Lena nodded and continued holding my hands. “I have a friend that is looking for a place to live. She’s sweet. She’s been sleeping on her aunt’s sofa since she moved back to town.” She didn’t sound sweet. “Let me introduce you to her. Maybe…” She didn’t bother to finish her thought but started looking around down the row of shops for her friend. She started flailing about with one hand while keeping me anchored next to her with the other. People were beginning to stare at her but thankfully she stopped.
A girl who looked like she should still be in high school walked towards us.
“Audrey this is Megan. Megan this is Audrey,” Lena said trying to sound regal. “Megan, Audrey has a condo and needs a roommate. It is a gorgeous place with a view of the river.” I was about to correct the “needs a roommate” part but Megan jumped in first.
“Oh? That sounds interesting. If Çakmak Escort you’re serious about a roomie, I’d like to talk. I don’t want to impose on anyone,” Megan was a little taller than me. She had long black hair that she wore fairly plainly. If she put in some loose curls it would be pretty. Actually she looked quite pretty even if her hair wasn’t perfect. She was beautiful even though she wasn’t wearing much makeup. Big blue eyes, long lashes, full sexy lips, a cute nose, and a few freckles on her cheeks. To top it off her eyebrows were perfect unlike Lena’s. She reached out her hand to shake mine. Her nails were clean and well kept.
Her hands confused me. I was expecting very soft hands but hers felt slightly rough. A bit boyish but not in a bad way.
I shook her hand and smiled. I could feel her looking me over so I looked her over as well. She was dressed casually in jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, and some practical boots. I imagined she attracted quite a few lingering gazes at the pool or dressed for a night on the town.
If I let her move in I would have to lay down the law about boyfriends and such.
“Sure. We can talk about it if you want,” I said and she nodded while shaking my hand. Lena of course was delighted.
We exchanged numbers and we agreed that she would come by at the end of the week. I showed her the condo. She was excited to see that her room had its own bathroom and balcony. I told her what I expected from a roommate: rent, food, cleaning, and guests. She agreed to everything and moved in just a week after we met. She didn’t have much, just a few bags of clothing, a computer, and little else. She had no furniture, which I was thankful for as I had personally decorated every room in the condo, including the guest room. She didn’t have a car but bought a motorcycle from a friend not long after moving in.
She was indeed sweet and quiet. Sometimes I forgot she was even there. She did request to paint her room because everything in the apartment was so white. I didn’t want her painting the walls something obnoxious. I agreed to let her hang more stuff from the walls and ceiling. I tried not to look into her room as I walked by.
We settled into our routine of living together.
I’d gotten accustomed to living alone so didn’t really think about changing after she moved in. Why would it matter? I’d walk from my room to the kitchen with barely anything on and catch her blushing and looking away. Sometimes she would glare at me when I stood drinking my coffee with just a towel over my shoulder. She would make these little exasperated noises and then pretend she hadn’t seen.
I didn’t get the impression that she thought I was gross. She just seemed annoyed with me.
I had begun to wonder why she never brought anyone home. Sure I had been adamant that I wanted to be safe in my own home; I didn’t want to be attacked by a drunken or angry boyfriend of hers. I liked to enjoy the peace and tranquility so I wasn’t upset that I didn’t have to deal with her guests. I thought she might be gay but whenever she was on the phone she was talking to some guy. Perhaps she was too busy for that sort of thing. She was always working on something. I was sure she had told me what she did with her time but I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t paid attention or had just forgotten.
I was also sure that I felt something when I made her blush. It scared me. It made me feel nervous and happy. I liked the feeling and I wanted to make her blush more. So I made a point to walk by her every day.
She, on the other hand, never left her room except when she was fully dressed. I was impressed that she was more fanatical about keeping the place clean. She always would clean up after herself and would even clean up after me. Not that I was messy. I just sometimes forgot to put something away because I was focused on something else.
Aside from wanting to paint her room she was quite the perfect little roommate.
Well she seemed to be at first, but then the blushes and exasperation turned into mean comments. She seemed to think that I was obsessed with James because I was holding onto his stuff, wearing his ring, and still using his last name. But there were quite legitimate reasons for all of that.
Then she began to complain about my walk-bys. She accused me of being an exhibitionist. According to her, every time she saw me I was half or mostly naked. I told her if it bothered her so much she could just look away rather than building up ammo to complain. She didn’t have to gawk if she didn’t want to. I pointed out that I didn’t complain about her or didn’t butt into her personal life, if she even had one.
I could hardly believe it when she rolled her eyes at me.
The cold war began.
I had always pictured Saturday mornings as time for James and I to spend in bed making love until noon. We’d lounge around our perfect home, him in his shorts, me in his shirt. A perfect match. He’d make coffee while I made us something Çakmak Escort Bayan to snack on.
Instead I got up around nine and SHE was sitting at the table eating her dry cereal and staring at her laptop with her earbuds in. This wasn’t how the Saturday mornings in my dream life was supposed to be.
We were in the fifth day of our mutual silent treatment. I walked toward her until she looked up at me then turned toward the counter. I heard her make a rude sound. Most likely because I was only wearing one of James’ shirts and she probably caught sight of, well, everything. I didn’t care. If she got off looking at my nakedness more power to her. She was never going to get the real thing.
I stepped up to the counter and poured some coffee. I wiggled my toes on the soft white carpet. At least she had made enough for both of us. If I’m honest, I liked her. She could have been the perfect roommate if she didn’t complain so much about something so trivial. I could feel her looking at me over the top of her laptop. When she was looking the crunching of her cereal would get slower or sometimes louder. I knew if she stopped chewing completely she was taking a good look. I reached up for a banana that sat in a basket hanging over the counter. I had to stand on my toes and stretch to reach it. I could feel the shirt slip and knew my bottom was staring her right in the face. I was sure she could see my pussy and that thrilled me. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and back.
The crunching completely stopped. I thought she would say something and prepared my come back but instead I heard her close her laptop and push the bowl to the side then take her laptop to her room. She didn’t slam the door. I couldn’t tell if she had closed it but I wasn’t going to look.
I took a bite of my banana and chewed it but didn’t really taste it. I was distracted by concern that maybe I had pushed it too far. I knew how annoyed I got when people were rude to me. Self- consciously I pulled down my shirt to make sure my bottom and pussy stayed covered. I was too nervous to go back to my room to change. I had felt a thrill at aggravating her and it was dawning on me that I was enjoying exposing myself. At least, I had been. Now, however, I didn’t feel so good about what I had been doing.
I swallowed the food in my mouth and pushed aside the remains of the banana. I would have to find a way to apologize to her. I really didn’t understand my behavior. I felt frozen there by the counter, too nervous and afraid to walk by her room to change.
I heard her moving from her room to the dining area. I stared and poked at the banana as I heard her approach. I refused to look at her. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I felt my face turning red as she walked over to the table and picked up her cereal bowl. I could see the faint blur of her out of the corner of my eye. I started to turn towards her but forced my eyes to look away. I locked my eyes on the banana as she passed behind me. I felt the breeze from her movement lift the shirt a little and I nervously tugged at the shirttail to make sure that it was covering as much of my bottom as it could. I felt so exposed now. She was an indistinct blur as she passed around the other side of me and into the kitchen. I clenched my teeth and tried not to breath; I could feel her seething at me from across the room as she sat the bowl next to the sink.
She seemed to pause a moment at the sink. James’ ring on my finger felt heavy on my hand and I fiddled with it while I tried to find words to say to her. But the words didn’t come out and she was moving out of the kitchen but she didn’t go back to her room. She just stood silently behind me and I prepared myself for her to say something. I knew anything she said at that moment would cut me and I would cry.
I was practicing my apology in my head when I felt her step towards me from behind. I knew I had to say something before she did. But before the words could leave my mouth she leaned against me and pressed me against the counter. I was confused and wondered if she had lost it and was attacking me, but then I realized that she was naked and pressing her body against mine.
“Megan, what are you trying to do?” I demanded, trying to push and turn, but unable to.
“Don’t try to turn,” she said. “I’ve had it with your antics Audrey. What kind of spoiled brat are you?”
“I’m not a spoiled brat!” I growled and tried again to push back against her.
“You might not like the results of that,” Megan warns.
That was when I felt something against my backside. What was going on?
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Look down,” was all she said. I looked down as she grabbed the back of the shirt to pull it tight against my chest. It squeezed against my tits and belly. I felt her move a little then felt something pushing between the cheeks of my bottom. Then it nudged its way forward between the lips of my pussy. It was sending sparks through my body Escort Bayan as it pushed forward. I saw the black tip emerge. For a moment I thought I was growing a shiny black penis. It finally stopped when her hips were pressed against my bottom.
She was wearing a black strap-on and I felt certain that she was going to use it on me.
“Just no,” I said. I started to reach down to push it away from me. She slapped me hard on the right side of my bottom.
“Please keep your hands on the counter. No touching,” Megan said quietly. “Yet…”
“But you’re touching me?” I protested.
“You wanted me to notice you. You wanted to be touched,” was Megan’s response. “I noticed and now I’m touching.”
“What makes you think I wanted you to notice me? Or touch me,” I felt like I should be trying to get out from under her but part of me worried I would get hurt. She had me bent over such that my chest was pressed against the sharp edge of the counter. I started to worry that my nipples might be scraped off. They were becoming hard and the sensation was painful.
“Every day you show me your ass. You show me your pussy. You show me your tits. You want to be seen. You want me to see your perfect body. You want me to know what your perfect world might have been…” She trailed off and I completed it in my head: if James hadn’t been a jerk.
“So?” I wanted to say something more but fear at what she would do if I said the wrong thing made me suddenly very nervous.
“So I got this. Just for you.” She rocked her hips pressing the dildo against my pussy. I looked down at the dildo emerging from between my thighs. I could feel it squeezing against and past my pussy.
“I’m not gay,” I protested.
“What makes you think I’m gay?” Megan asked me. “I know that’s what you think.”
“Well it doesn’t matter to me if you are or aren’t I’m not. So could we please just stop?” I asked.
“Do you really want me to stop?” She asked quietly. I thought she might be giving up on this weirdness. She began to slide the dildo back along my pussy. The feeling was distracting. I hesitated too long and she started pushing it forward again. On reflex I gasped. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked again. Once against she began to pull her hips backward. But I didn’t say anything and she pushed it forward more quickly.
She grabbed my hair when I didn’t respond and pulled my head back towards her. She pushed the dildo forward past my opening. I could tell it was moving freer now. I knew that my body was spreading wetness over it with each push and pull.
Megan jerked my hair a bit. “You need to answer me,” she demanded. I thought I caught a glimpse of her face as she yanked. Her expression wasn’t an angry one.
“I didn’t hear the question,” I responded and Megan’s pushes and pulls got faster and more emphatic. At any point it could slip into me. I shivered at the thought and had to use all my will from arching my back and sending the dildo deep inside. My body felt like it was humming and every time Megan paused when she changed direction, my body was filled with gleeful anticipation for the next thrust or pull.
I gasped as she moved her hips back and forth against me. I tried to stop myself from pressing down against it, from squeezing it against my opening. Her thrusts seemed to become more insistent as I began to move to meet her thrusts.
I gulped hard at the realization that she knew that I was beginning to give into the feeling. I tried not to look down at the head as it disappeared and reappeared between my thighs. Each time she pushed it past my pussy I thought I would collapse. My heart beat faster. I knew she was in control but I didn’t care.
“I’m not gay,” I blurted out again. Embarrassment washed over me but was interrupted by the slap of her hand across my bottom. Once. Twice. Three times. Each harder than the one that preceded it. I cried out but the sound that came out wasn’t the sound I had expected. It wasn’t from pain but from pleasure. She pulled her hips back then slammed them against my bottom. Again and again. I looked down thinking how wet the black dildo had become. I was making it wetter each time she pushed it between the folds of my pussy.
“Does this even feel gay to you?” Megan laughed then continued. “Does it even matter?”
The feel of Megan’s body pressed against mine, the feel of her dildo torturing me, told me it didn’t matter. My nipples raked against the edge of the counter each time she slapped her body against mine. I felt the smoothness of her legs against mine. Silk against silk. I felt her belly and breasts against my back through the shirt. The fabric no longer felt soft and comfortable to me. I wanted to feel her skin against mine. Her left arm moved around my waist and her fingers pressed against my belly. Her right hand gripped my shoulder and her thumb gently stroked the side of my neck. She moved her face next to mine and her breathing blasted harshly next to my ear.
The dildo caught for a moment and I thought it would go into my pussy. I shivered and groaned. “You need to stop,” I demanded.
“Is that what you really want Miss Audrey Perfect?” she rasped, her lips to my ear. She bit my ear lightly, teasingly. I felt my will melting away. I wanted her to kiss me but instead I lied.