Page 41 of Run, Run, Roommates
I stand up and strip my clothes off. I have condoms under my bed and I fish one out, praying it’s not expired.
Whew, next year. I slide the condom on and look down at my dick.
Okay, I think at it. This is a time to be slow and steady and not blow my load right out of the gate. Her first time shouldn’t be over in ten seconds.
I have concerns about my ability to perform because it feels like I’ve had Brin rubbing up on me for hours and the smell and taste of her inside me for almost as long. But when my already-sex-blissed virgin roommate tells me she wants me, by god I’m going to deliver the best I can.
Climbing back on the bed, I crawl up to Brin. “Just so you know,” I say. “I’m on PrEP and I’ve been tested since the last time I was with someone.”
Brin looks up at me, a bit more awake now. She reaches up and traces the line of my jaw with a delicate touch. “I’ve got an IUD. And I haven’t done this before, but I’ve done other stuff.” Her eyes skitter away. “I probably should have gotten tested at some point, but it’s, uh, been a long time. Sorry.”
I move my head to meet her gaze. “Don’t apologize.” I kiss her quickly and line myself up. I have to curl my back to keep my head next to hers to watch her as I press inside. At first she stills, but then her eyelashes flutter and her breath quickens. She hums in pleasure, and I stroke a few times, easing my way in until I bottom out.
Beneath me, Brin’s quiet. We’re gazing at each other while we catch our breaths.
“Does it feel okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah.” She shifts, and I hold my breath while her body tightens around me.
My elbows are on either side of her shoulders, propping myself up. “No pain?”
She shakes her head. “Full. You’re . . . ah . . . a little bigger than my vibrator.”
“I don’t have as many functions, sorry to disappoint.”
She laughs and my breath hitches.
“It feels more different than I thought it would. My vibrator is supposed to be lifelike, but it’s really not.” She says it with wonder in her voice.
“Better or worse?”
“Oh, definitely better. I don’t know—” She gazes out over my shoulder, her eyes going unfocused. “I can’t describe it.” She arches her back, wriggling against me, and I groan. Then she lifts her knees up and circles her legs around my waist and I press in even deeper. “Oh,” she says. “Do that again.”
I brace myself and rock gently. Her eyelashes flutter and I do it again and again.
Brin grabs on to my biceps, her fingers digging into the muscles. “More,” she pants.
I shift so my forearms brace on the bed next to her ears, my triceps against her shoulders to give me leverage, and I thrust harder. Her breath hits my throat and my lips are on her forehead as I give her the shallow grinds against her body that make her fingernails dig in deeper and deeper.
Fuck, I don’t think I’m going to make it.
I grit my teeth, dig my own fingernails into my palm, do anything I can think of to stave it off, because I want Brin to come again so badly.
Finally, I feel it first on my dick. It’s a flood and a squeeze and then Brin’s body curls up to mine and her head falls back on a silent scream. Then I can finally let go.
I press my lips tight as my body shudders in climax. The snap of pleasure is sharp and snatches my breath away. I can’t tell if the quakes come from me or her.
Either way, when my brain comes back online, I’m still above her, my body sagging but my arms still holding most of my weight. Brin’s legs have flopped to either side; her hands have let go of me and rest on the bed. I ease off carefully, pressing a kiss to Brin’s lips as I disengage.
“How do you feel?” My throat is coarse, my voice coming out like gravel.
She grunts, and as soon as I’m clear enough, she turns onto her side and buries her face into the pillow.
I get up and dispose of the condom. I clean myself up, and as much as I don’t want to disturb her, she’s gotta get up and take care of herself too.
“Brin.” I kiss her hip. “Hey. You should go pee to prevent a UTI. Come on.”
I tug and murmur at her until she gets up, unsteady, and help her walk to the bathroom.
