Kaori doesn't live alone, she lives with her friend, a boy. What she finds out is that perhaps there is more to their relationship than mere friendship. But she will never tell him and maybe she will never have to.
Garret was my roommate of three years, a good friend and one heck of a party person. The only down side, the frequency at which he would stumble through the door at the wee hours of the morning, waking my sleeping bum up. Being the good roommate that I am, I would often help him to his bed where he would pass out in whatever position I decided was the best. Usually that meant head turned to the side just in case his body rejected the amount of alcohol he had consumed.
Typically, his so called buddies would crash through the door and subject each other to random acts of humiliation; taking pictures to post online or use as blackmail. It was not like they had complete disregard for my sleep, just that they were drunk morons looking for a good time. Okay, so maybe it was complete disregard. Over time, their activities mutated and one night they brought over a girl, just one, and had their way with her. At first I thought they had planned it, but after peeking in and taking notes, she seemed to be the most sober and was actually commanding the over eager boys. It was then I realized, she was having her way with them. It made me wonder if she was a professional.
Those nights blurred together, numbing me to the late night chaos that was sure to come home whenever Garret said, “Going out with the boys tonight.” I appreciated the gesture, and knew it was his way of apologizing for any inconvenience. At least they did not try and bring me into the crazy mix of sex and alcohol. Admittedly, I often watched and, drifted off to sleep wondering what it would be like. Just a passing thought with my own pragmatism bringing me back to Earth. I did not want to regret anything, and with this bunch of boys, I am sure I would have.
And so it happened again. I heard the clanging of the keys just before the door swung open and banged the wall, followed by loud cheers and shouts. Joe, Kent, Cameron and Garret, I knew their voices, but I waited for more. I heard two distinct girl’s giggling and making remarks about the place.
“Hey, where’s the alcohol?” One of the girl’s asked.
“In the,” Garret stuttered and failed to finish.
“Here, I will look for it.” Joe was the instigator of all things that ended badly.
“What a cute place. Who lives here?” She almost sounded interested.
“Dude, where’s the Vodka?” Joe was rummaging through the freezer, then the cupboard. He was not subtle and the trashing of our place easily betrayed his location.
“Shit!” That’s all Garret had to say.
“I have plenty at my place and my roomies aren’t home.” It was Kent, the one who lived in a nice condo provided for by his parents. Their way of saying, you are still our kid.
“Crap, is Rachel here?” Joe again.
“Who’s Rachel?” The other girl spoke.
“The roomie. Maybe we should go to Kent’s.” Thanks Joe, I whispered to myself. That was about when I heard the thud.
“Looks like Garret had a little too much tonight.” Cameron was sure to enforce the pass out rule. One that nobody wanted to be a victim of. Garret was usually pretty good about making sure he was not the first one to go down. But perhaps every dog has his day. I know, wrong context.
“Joe, give me a hand.” Some snickering, a few grunts and then nothing. The voices faded beyond the door, suddenly muted followed by a click. I wondered what had happened and what they did with Joe.
A few minutes went by before I cracked my door for a better listen. Silence. There was no way these drunks could be that quiet and no way they all passed out at the same time. I ventured out into the room. My first scan revealed nothing. I half expected to see Joe propped up, tied up, covered in some sticky substance or even better, taped up with some absurd statement written on his forehead. But nothing. Second look, I did notice a pair of jeans with boxers still stuffed in them, lying on the ground. Something had happened.
I walked into the room looking for more evidence. One more piece of clothing, it was Garret’s shirt. I figured they had stripped him and left him somewhere in the house. I searched his room, the bathroom and the kitchen. We had a small apartment and not to many places to hide a body. It was a mystery that had me fully awake and alert. I was on the hunt for any mistakes they had made, overlooked clues that would indicate what happened. Alas, I found it, the dead bolt on the door was unlocked. Garret never left that unlocked if I was home. Such a sweetie, but what did that mean?
I went to the door and cracked it open. The cool night air brushed past me, I had found Garret. They had put lip prints all over his body and sat him there, in a chair, in front of our place, for all the world to see. It was still dark so not many could have gotten a good look, but I am sure the pictures would hit Facebook soon.
“Shit Garret, you finally passed out.” I nudged him. “Garret!”
Nothing was working. I had to get him inside, but was not sure just how to do this if he wasn’t going to help. I grabbed an arm and pulled him over my shoulder. Most of his weight was still in the chair. I steadied myself and tried to stand with him. I was beginning to loose his arm. “Garret!”
I yelled in his ear. It was enough to stir him. He struggled to put his feet underneath his body, and with my help we managed to get him through the door and into his room. I gave one last heave and threw him. His body twisted and landed with his back on the bed. The inertia carried him a little after the bounce, just not enough. Most of him made it, but his legs trailed behind and awkwardly hung over the edge. At least the hard part was over.
I reached down, grabbed his legs and lifted them onto the bed. His body did not cooperate. His waist anchored him on the edge and I could not really get his legs to stay. “Geesh, Garret, I never realized how heavy you are.” I had not looked at him completely naked before and honestly was impressed with his physique. Reaching under his waist and thighs, and after several lunging efforts, I managed to scoot him to the middle of the bed. Without realizing it, at least not until it slapped me in the cheek, I had managed to put my face right next to his semi-hard maleness.
“Dude!” At close range it looked huge. Not fully erect, but not flaccid, it was impressive. “Wow, Garret Ishii, I had no idea.” Surprised mainly because I figured most Asians were on the smaller side. I slid my hands from under him and backed away. It still looked big. I starred at it, watching it grow softer. Then, a thought hit me. ‘How big is he?’
I left the room, grabbed a tape measure and rolled it out. “Hmm, six and a half inches.” But I wanted it to be hard and there is only one way to do that. Or so I convinced myself.
I grabbed, with my fingers, this chunk of lifeless flesh, thick and heavy in my hands, but not growing. Instinctively I stroked it. Slowly and surely, my hands began to massage life into it. The tape measure lay motionless on his stomach, verifying that my efforts of CPR were working. Much like getting gas and watching the fuel meter move to full, I watched him grow: 6.5, 6.75, 7.0, 7.25, 7.5. Hard on the inside, soft on the outside, and circumcised. Nice to look at and a complement to the body it was attached to.
“Hmm, let’s see if we can’t get this thing any bigger.” I knew guys could be stimulated while sleeping and knew that some things worked better than others. For me, that meant using my mouth. Either I was still tired or just caught up in the moment. I hesitated for a moment, attempting to rationalize what I was doing. But I had already committed to my curiosity and in a breath devoured it like a sinful dessert that was about to melt away. Never before had I even looked at Garret sexually, it was one of the things I loved about our living situation. No tension. We were both attractive people, at least I thought so, but we managed to stay away from anything compromising. Until now that is.
Tasting him was great. Something about him was different than the others; clean, soft, not really easy to explain, but good. It did not feel dirty. I was never good at deep throating, and was not about to try, just took my time, easy, not hard, pleasing. Maybe that is why it felt so natural. There was no rush, no pressure to perform, just the enjoyment of having this throbbing life inside my mouth, stroking him with my hands and caressing the softness below. I almost forgot why I was giving him a blowjob, almost, but not quite; eventually stopping and laying it next to the numbers.
“Lucky number eight.” It was impressive, but I knew that with a bit of fudging, I could manage to show he was almost nine inches long. Just shy. Sort of. Why not, it was impressive just to say it, “Nine inches!”
“Nice.” I held it up in the air and imagined what it would feel like. “Do the girls like it this big?” I was happy with five and six, this thing was a giant. It had my attention and my curiosity.
“You wouldn’t mind if a girl wanted to ride would you?” I actually asked it out loud. Not waiting to be turned down I slipped out of my panties and hopped up on the bed, straddling his thighs.
“Now, don’t hurt me, okay big guy?” I was still stroking him with one hand, while trying to get myself ready with the other one, but I guess the thought of this thing in me was enough to get me flowing. My heart pounded in my chest. Could I really do this? I rubbed my fingers together, testing my own wetness.
“Alright, ready or not, here we go.” I stood on my knees and scooted forward teasing the tip with my delicate lips. The heat from the soft mushroom was nice, kissing me on my most sensitive area of the moment. My wetness easily spread over him, up and down, sliding along his full length. I wanted an easy glide: One last time before positioning the head just inside. Once I felt my lips encase him, I released and lowered myself. I watched, as he opened me up, stretching me like an oil tanker cutting through the ocean. From my perspective, he looked bigger than what I measured; the head popped in, it felt bigger than the simple numbers on the tape.
I rested, breathed, and then eased him in a bit more. I took my time. There was no rush, I was in no rush, the feeling was too great to rush. Pause, pull back, ease down: Two steps forward, one step back. Deeper, one little bit at a time. That is until it hit my cervix. Crazy, but he was still not all the way in. I was amazed. I pressed down harder, but it was not working, not yet. I knew I had to work it for a bit.
“You feel so nice Garret. Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I knew he wouldn’t answer, nor would he, even if I asked him when he was awake. Such a quiet and humble guy, at least until you pumped him full of alcohol. My insides were swelling, allowing more of him to enter. My heart raced the more excited I became.
“Shit Garret. How much more.” I looked down. “Almost there.” I was beginning to sweat, my arousal was working and paying off. I finally absorbed all of him. He was inside of me, so deep it felt like he was in my gut. I relaxed on top of him, releasing all my weight. Everything he had, all nine or whatever inches, was inside of me. Awesome.
“I did it Garret. Just look.” I raised myself until I could see the swollen head then slid back down, burying him, to the hilt, as some might say. “Impressed?” I sure was.
“This will not hurt a bit my friend. Just relax.” And here I thought I was the one who would get hurt. I rocked my hips, feeling the length of him slide through me. Arching my back, pressing my lower abs into him, placing pressure on my nub. Perfect, the stretching teased it and his pelvis rubbed it. I was going to cum in no time. A bit longer and I knew it was going to be good.
Rather than the usual subtle washing over, my orgasm struck with a bolt of force, sending me into convulsions. I had no control as it pounded me from the inside out. I tightened my muscles bracing myself, not wanting it to end, riding the rollercoaster through the steep falls. My hips continued to rock, propelling me further along, continuing the ride, hitting bumps, curves, more steep drops. It felt like orgasm after orgasm. I just kept cumming and the harder I grinded, the better it felt.
My heart was about to leap out of my chest. I could not keep this up and was beginning to tire. I just couldn’t go on like this much longer, the ride had to come to an end at some point, but I did not want to be the one to throw the switch. I squeezed down on him, tightening my hold on his solid mass massaging my insides. I felt it, a twitch, it was alive and it was growing. He was going to cum.
I thought about it, about getting off, stopping before he could explode in me, but my body wouldn’t let me. I had no compulsion to dismount. I wanted to feel his orgasminside of me. That was the end I was waiting for. In a flash, I felt the swell before he gave his final climax. The violence of it, the explosiveness of his eruption inside, penetrated my core. The heat burst into me, I felt it, one after another, it filled me, sent me to the top of the final drop and then released me.
For a moment, pure ecstasy took over as I came one last time, gradually slowing to a fading end as he gifted me the last few drops of his milky white. Something I would carry with me for days, cherishing this moment that I secretly stole.