And They Were Roommates

It had been a long day. A wonderful, exciting day, filled with pretty buildings and paintings and strangers to take pictures of, but a long day nonetheless. Later, back at the hotel, I'd have wifi to post them to all of my socials, but for now, on the metro, all I could think of was getting off as soon as I made it back to my room.

The only problem was my roommate. I looked across the cabin to where she was sitting, looking out the window. Miranda had olive skin and long, curly brown hair. I knew her from other classes but we hadn't really talked much before we took this spring break trip/class. She seemed chill, so I wasn't worried about sharing the room with her, but well. I was sharing the room. Miranda seemed like the kinda girl I'd end up casually swapping nudes with, but we weren't on that level of friendship yet. She stood up, and I watched her plump ass as she walked toward the door.

"Brittany, you coming?" she asked, and I abruptly realized we'd reached the metro stop for our hotel.

"Oh yeah!"

I made an effort at small talk as we left the station, but watching her climb the stairs three steps ahead of me left my train of thought completely wrecked. By the time we arrived at the hotel, I made up my mind that I had to get off in the bathroom as soon as I got to the room. I just had to make it a quick one.

I hurried past Miranda, dropping my bag at the door, and slammed the bathroom door. My jeans were at my ankles a moment later. Taking a seat on the toilet, I got right to work, running my fingers over my pussy, rubbing my hood. Closing my eyes, I let the horny thoughts I'd been ignoring all day wash over me: the girl in the museum with the booty shorts and crop top, all the perfectly painted boobs, Miranda, Miranda's ass, Miranda's face looking up from between my thighs...

I needed something to grind on. At home, I usually used the arm of the couch or a pillow. Opening my eyes, I looked at the vanity. It wasn't the weirdest thing my pussy had touched, I decided. I kicked off a shoe and tugged a foot free of my panties, then eased my hips up to the corner of the vanity. Grabbing the faucet, I started rocking, pressing against the cold marble edge. I squeezed a tit with my free hand. I was so close to cumming when I heard Miranda pounding on the door.

"I know you're getting off in there!"

I froze.

"And I don't care! I need to PISS!" she yelled, opening the door. Our eyes met. She saw me grinding my pussy against the counter top, jeans bunched around one ankle, and I saw that her fly was already down. Then she rushed past me to the toilet. I heard the lid clack open, followed quickly by piss hitting the bowl hard. She let out a sigh, and I felt her breath against my naked ass.

I didn't move. I tried not to breathe out loud. Even if I didn't have a bit of an exhibitionist streak, I'm not sure if I could've removed myself from the counter without accidentally cumming right in front of my roommate's face. If I was cooler, maybe I would've come back with a slick, "you should've let me know, I don't mind sharing. You mind if I finish?" If my libido was lower, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation. But what I managed was:

"Is it, okay...?" with a gasp that made it quite clear what I was asking.

"I'm not looking," Miranda answered. "I don't care."

I had no idea how much I wanted to hear my roommate give me permission to orgasm. I gave my clit one last hard press against the corner of the vanity, and came harder than I had in months.

I wanted to collapse in a puddle and catch my breath, but I was painfully aware that Miranda had just flushed. She hadn't even shut the bathroom door, and now that my brain wasn't awash in lust, that made me feel irrationally exposed. Mumbling apologies, I shuffled past her into the shower, shut the glass door, and couldn't decide if it mattered if Miranda saw me take off my shirt or not until she washed her hands and closed the door behind her.

I wanted to make it a quick shower so it was extra obvious I wasn't rubbing another one out after what just happened, but I also had a lot of feelings to work through before I could make eye contact with Miranda again. Good feelings: the orgasm was great, and it turns out that assertive girls are my thing, even--well, maybe especially if they embarrass me? Bad feelings: everything else? If I'd just covered up when she knocked, Miranda would probably understand and just not want to ever speak of it again either. But then I came while she was sitting there, so she must think I'm a perverted freak.

Once I finished my shower, I realized I didn't have a change of clothes. Normally, I'm no prude, but my roommate had probably seen enough of me without clothes for one day. But the alternative was putting on the clothes I'd worn all day and also been (at least partly) wearing when I came in front of Miranda. Could I really look her in the eye again? I didn't really have a choice, I realized, and it's not like with a towel wrapped around me I'd be showing anything she hadn't seen already. I re-wrapped the towel, took a deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.

And Miranda was on her bed, masturbating. I took it all in: her jeans deliberately folded with her blue panties on top; her comfortably spread thighs; her ass cheeks squished under her pelvis; her shaved pussy and her fingers casually tracing over it; her shirt pulled up out of the way. She didn't cover up, but I turned right back around.

"Wait," she said, "you don't have to leave."

I stopped.

"Since I've already seen you, this makes us, you know, even."

Looking over my shoulder, I met her eyes. They weren't apologetic; they were eager. I felt a fluttering, mainly between my legs. "I don't have to leave," I asked, "or you want me to stay?"

Her fingers were still moving, I noticed. "Will you please stay and," she blushed, "watch me? Oricouldjusttakeashowerandforgetaboutit."

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. "I guess I really shook you up earlier."

"I figured if you were grossed out when you saw me, you'd just give me some space, we'd be even, nothing weird left between us," she said. "But you almost seemed like you were into it earlier?"

"I was totally into it earlier," I admitted, sitting down on my bed, facing her. I put my hands on the edge of the towel, pausing to enjoy the hungry look in her eyes, then tugged it open. Leaning back, I spread my legs to give her a good view, and watched the show.

Miranda moistened her fingers in her mouth, then started fucking herself in earnest. I couldn't decide which was more fun to watch: her fingers pleasuring, pink peeking out between her labia, or her eyes roaming over my body hungrily. Her lips parted as her breathing quickened, then her eyes met mine. I grinned. Miranda made a series of soft sounds, ending in an adorable squeal as she came.

"Wow," I breathed, "that was hot."

She brought her legs together, but she didn't cover up. "You're pretty sexy yourself."

"I know," I smiled.

"I'm gonna take a shower now," Miranda said, unbuttoning her shirt, "but I'll leave the door open in case you wanna watch."

"Good, you wouldn't want someone to have to bust down the door to take a piss," I teased.

"Listen," she started, and I busted out laughing. "I am sorry about that, for what it's worth."

"Don't be," I assured her. "I deserved it. Besides, clearly I should've just stripped down in the room so you could watch."

"Maybe next time?" Miranda said, hopefully.

"Definitely next time," I agreed.