Oiled roomie

When moving to a foreign country for the first time in your life, the list of stuff to worry about is pretty long. High on that list is where to live. I had been so fortunate to become a graduate student in an international collaboration, where I had to do my course work in my native Denmark, but the research project in a prestigious university in the north-east of the USA. And as the time to move to the US for a few years approached, I started to worry about securing myself a place to live.

There were possibilities on campus, but they seemed very unattractive. There were rooms to rent, but they were pricey and not terribly attractive either. I quickly found that the best option would be to share an apartment with other students, there were many apartments available and if we were two or three sharing a small one they were affordable. But figuring out which apartments were decent was kind of hard when located on another continent. Clearly the best would be to show up a month early, get a cheap motel room, and look for a decent apartment. So that was what I did.

It only took three days to find an apartment I liked. It was suitable for two students, pretty nice, and not too expensive. I signed a two-year contract and started looking for a roomie. Soon I had two people wanting to check out the place.

John was first, but while I could not put my finger on any obvious red flags, my instincts told me that we would hate each other within a month or so.

The second was Emma. In my mind I had always imagined sharing with another guy, but why not? She showed up on time, just after lunch; a tall and pretty good-looking young woman.

"Welcome, Emma," I greeted her, "I am Kim."

For a moment, she looked perplexed. "Oh, I thought Kim was short for Kimberley."

I smiled. "No, I am Danish. In Denmark it's a male name, it is not short for anything. I fully understand if you don't want to share an apartment with a guy. But you are welcome to look around anyway."

"Is that OK? I'll probably say a polite 'no', but it would be nice to have a look."

So I let her in. The main room of the apartment was living room in one end, kitchen in the other; I told her I imagined the living room as a combined living room and workspace. Two students could easily sit at the main table with their laptops. There was also a spacious bathroom, and two bedrooms.

"This is my bedroom," I pointed at the open door but did not invite her in. "And this would be your room. The lock in the door is broken, but I have just bought this sliding lock, I can install it in two minutes."

She looked at the room, and smiled.

"I like this apartment. What are you doing, by the way? You are a grad student, right?"

"Yes, my main research will be computer simulations of black hole formation. The physics is fascinating, but the math is horrendous."

"I am sure it is, probably coupled partial differential equations."

"Indeed," I say with a big smile. "Are you also in physics?"

"No, biology. I am modeling population dynamics, that's differential equations too. Probably not nearly as messy as yours, but still a bit daunting. Fortunately I am one of the few biologists who love math. And computers."

We sat down in the sofa, and talked a bit more about our research projects.

She looks at me. "You seem to be a nice guy, I could actually see myself living here. We could perhaps even help each other a bit with the numerical simulations, we probably have quite different approaches to that kind of stuff. I noticed the bathroom door locks. If you can install the slide lock on my bedroom before I move in, then we have a deal."

"I can install it now."

So I got my tools, and although I am not much of a handy-man I had the lock installed in ten minutes, without making a fool of myself. We went through the subletting agreement (that I found on a DIY law website), and she signed it.

"I'll move in tomorrow. See you, Kim!"

So Emma moved in, and the semester started. We would often sit with our computers in the living room, working on the research projects. We could not help each other much with the actually research, but having an intelligent sparring partner for the inevitable programming, debugging and general computer trouble turned out to be very valuable for us both, and we both spent a sizable fraction on our time working from home instead of on campus. During the first few months, we became friends.

I was single the entire semester, Emma got a boyfriend in October and dumped him without much drama in December. Otherwise the fall semester was productive but rather uneventful. We both celebrated Christmas with our families and were back in the apartment in early January.

In February I noticed Emma being uncomfortable. She smiled less, and was often scratching herself. One day, just after lunch she got up from her computer.

"I have an appointment with my doctor. I'll be back in an hour or two."

She did not normally tell me why she left; why would she, we were roomies not partners. But she was nervous and clearly not at ease as she left.

When she came back, she looked like she had seen a ghost. She sat down in the sofa next to me.

"Bad news?" I asked.

She nodded and began crying. I put my arm around her shoulder, to comfort a friend. We sat a while like that, she cried silently, I did not say anything. By then I knew her well enough to know that she would speak when ready.

"I have had itching rashes the last few week. I feared it was psoriasis, that is incurable and was about the worst I could imagine it could be." She sadly shook her head. "It's worse. Far, far worse."

"Do you want to talk about it."

"No, but I think I need to. My doctor think I have Kohmann's degenerative dermopathy. It's my immune system attacking my skin."

"That sound bad," I said.

"It is. He called a specialist at the hospital. She said she had no time to see me for the next two month. He said it could not wait two months, he suspected Kohmann's. I could hear her go silent on the phone, then she found a time for me tomorrow afternoon! That's how bad it is.

"I was scared, and he was clearly unwilling to tell me what Kohmann's dermopathy would mean for me. He said it wasn't sure, it could be it wasn't Kohmann. I pressed him. He told me that its incurable, but can be slowed down a bit with medication. But only a bit. Eventually, my skin will become more and more inflamed, and harder. Eventually it breaks down completely, and you cannot really live once your skin is gone. Even with medication I'll be lucky to live long enough to graduate."

She continued crying, and I could find nothing to say. But then, holding her was probably the best I could do. Eventually, she ran out of tears, I ordered pizza for both of us, and we ate them in awkward silence.

"Do you want a glass of wine or a beer? I don't think getting slightly drunk will help much, but perhaps a bit."

"No," she said. "Alcohol will accelerate it. I'll die sober." She tried to soften her words with a small smile.

A few hours later, we went early to bed. First, I could not sleep, and Googled Kohmann's dermopathy on my phone. I quickly stopped reading, that was not going to help! Eventually, sleep must have come.

The next morning, her eyes were red when she came out of her room. We ate breakfast, before sitting down in front of our computers. We stared into the screens for a few hours, without doing any real work, then we sat down on the sofa. I put my arm around her shoulder again, and tried to comfort her a bit. The hours felt like days, until it was time for her to leave for the hospital.

A few hours later, she came back. She was carrying a big bag, and put three bottles on the kitchen counter. Two were obviously white wine, the third looked suspiciously like a large bottle of olive oil. I had a hard time reading her facial expression, she was clearly in emotional turmoil. She found two glasses and began opening a bottle of wine.

"I thought you had to avoid alcohol."

She smiled a bit. "The good news is that I don't have Kohmann's. I am not going to die, and I can drink as much as I like."

"And the bad news?"

"The bad news require at least half a bottle of wine before I can even consider telling you."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I am your roommate and your friend, not your partner."

"Oh, I have to. Trust me, I have to."

She sat down next to me in the sofa, and poured two glasses of wine. I took a sip of mine. She quaffed her glass, and poured another. I had never seen her drink like that before. The second glass followed the first, then she slowed down and sipped the third glass like a civilized human being. I poured my second glass.

Eventually, she gathered her courage.

"Its an allergy, pretty rare. I'm allergic to cotton fibers. I am allergic to my fucking clothes!"

"I guess you can use woolens, or synthetics?"

She shook her head. "Eventually. But not while the rash lasts. It is started by cotton fibers, but any kind of fiber will keep the rash going. The doctor said I'll have to be naked for a few weeks."

"Oh my!" I honestly did not know what to say. "Isn't there some kind of medication that can help."

"Steroid cream helps, but it is kind of expensive and has lots of nasty side effects. She recommended olive oil instead, the fat itself helps and there is something in olives that fights the rash."

We looked at each other in silence for a while.

"How do we handle this?" I asked. "I could mainly work at the department, and if we both stay in our rooms and make sure we don't meet here... It would work for a few weeks."

"I would hate having to hide in my room. We could also act like sensible adults, its not going to kill either of us that you see me naked. Danes are not supposed to be prudish. And I know that I can trust you to behave."

I nodded. "I guess I'll survive the trauma," I said with a smile.

We sat for maybe another five or ten minutes in slightly awkward silence. Then Emma got up from the sofa.

"The longer I stay in these clothes, the worse my rash gets."

She went to her room, and locked the door. A bit later, she opened it and came out. Naked. I averted my eyes.

"Look at me, Kim. You cannot look away every time I am in the room."

I looked at her. She stood facing me, naked. Emma was maybe a foot shorter than me, and rather slim without being skinny. Her dark, almost black hair framed the light skin of her pretty face. Her breasts were medium sized, very shapely, and with large areolas. She shaved her armpits, but obviously not her bush, it was dark and dense. There was a big red rash on both upper arms, and on her left shoulder reaching almost down to the breast. I could see some on the side of her right leg, too.

She forced a smile. "I haven't died of shame, and you haven't had a heart attack. I think we will survive three weeks like this."

With those words she turned away from me. Most of her back was covered by the red rash, it looked really itchy. She grabbed the bottle of olive oil, and went to the bathroom. Soon after, I heard the shower. Then the shower fell silent, and nothing happened for a while. Eventually, she called.

"Kim, I am really sorry, but I need your help."

She opened the door a bit, and I walked over and entered the bathroom. Emma stood naked, with her back to me. Her skin was covered with oil, from her neck to her feet, except for a small area on her back.

"Can you put some oil on my back, I can't reach."

I took the bottle of olive oil, put some in my hand, and applied it to her back. Her skin was red, irritated and rough, and it almost sucked up the oil. I applied a bit more, until her back was as shiny as the rest of her.

"Thank you, Kim. I have done the front myself."

"You are welcome." I left the bathroom, hoping she had not seen my erection. Moments later, she came out, and I almost gasped. Her skin was shiny with oil, her breasts were shiny! I had to concentrate to prevent my erection from coming back. Sure, the rash did not look good, but from the front it was not too bad.

"How long will it take?" I asked her.

"One to two weeks before the rash is gone, but I have to continue treating it like this for at least two more weeks. Then I can start wearing clothes again, as long as I avoid cotton."

"Oh. I see. Well... let's make dinner. It is my turn to cook today, why don't you sit in the sofa and relax. It's fake leather, a bit of olive oil shouldn't harm it, I hope."

I cooked, and then we ate. It was weird, eating with a naked girl sitting at the table, but I would lie if I denied that I enjoyed it. Then I sat in the sofa with my tablet, while she sat down in front of her laptop. She turned it so I could not see the screen. I watched some sport, she did something on the laptop that made her more and more frustrated. After a few hours, she slammed the laptop shut.

"This is hopeless, disgusting, and way too expensive!"

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a male prostitute."

"WHAT?" I exclaimed.

"Well, its the bed. My sheets are fortunately not cotton, they are linen, but its still plant fibers and it will maintain my rash. The doctor suggested that I sleep on top of my boyfriend for a few weeks. I told her that I don't have a boyfriend. She suggested paying a prostitute to let me sleep on him or her. It's illegal, but it would help me recover much faster.

"So I was looking for male hookers. But they are dank, and they are very expensive. Like 120 dollars for an hour, and a thousand for a whole night. I cannot pay that for a week, and certainly not a month. And did I mention that they are yucky?"

She looked a me, with her arms akimbo. Naked, and with her skin glistening with oil.

"Kim, have you ever though about a side job as a sex worker?"

I laughed. "I can't say I have, at least not until a few moments ago. What do you propose?"

"Well, I don't want sex, I just want to sleep naked on top of you. I'll pay you 1500 for a week. No fucking!" She blushed as she said it.

I slowly nod. "I cannot promise that I won't get an erection."

"Of course not. Do we have a deal? Then let's go to bed before one of us chickens out."

We took turns using the bathroom, and I helped her once more getting oil on her back. Then I went to my room and undressed before going to her room. She was sitting on her bed looking uncomfortable but determined.

"Lie on your back, then I'll get on top."

I did as she suggested, and she laid down on top of me, face down. Her skin was warm and slippery, her breasts were sliding against my chest, and I could feel her mound. I instantly got an erection, my stiff member rose up between her legs and pressed against her taint. I suppressed a strong urge to enter her.

"This is awkward for both of us," she said. "But let's try to sleep. It has been a mentally exhausting day!"

She put her head to rest on my upper chest, and I lay there feeling her warm, slippery body against mine, and the warmth between her legs on my dick. I couldn't see how I could sleep - but I could not really complain, I could not imagine any more pleasant form of insomnia!

Emma was really exhausted, but it still took her half an hour to fall asleep. Her constant small movements stimulated my erection, which didn't help either of us sleeping. But eventually she was lying still, breathing softly. My erection slowly subsided, and eventually I fell asleep.

I woke up with morning wood, and Emma stirring on top of me. She opened her eyes.

"I guess we better get up before we do something we regret."

We got out of bed, and I rushed to the toilet to piss and get rid of my morning wood. I had to lean forward and put a hand on the wall, and still had to wait for almost a minute until the erection began subsiding before I could piss. As soon as I flushed and started washing my hands, Emma opened the door and rushed in. She sat down and immediately began pissing, she was obviously bursting. I finished washing my hands, and stepped into the shower. I was washing myself while she washed her hands and face, and brushed her teeth. She had her back to me, but I clearly saw that she was looking at me in the mirror as I washed. Once I stepped out to dry myself, she took my place in the shower. I left as soon as I was mostly dry, to prevent my erection from coming back.

We spent the day working in the apartment, me clothed, her naked and oiled up. She had a long zoom meeting with her supervisor, where she explained why she could not come to work, and why she kept her camera off. Her supervisor was clearly understanding. I tried not to stare too much, but my God! She did look good.

At the end of the day, we went to bed. The rash was already looking better, although still red. She was all oiled up as she laid down on me once more. And I could no longer prevent my dick from waking up, it once more pressed against her taint. I thought I could feel wetness from her pussy spreading in my pubic hair.

"I am getting so horny from this," she said, blushing. "I know we agreed on a price for a week, with no sex. Will you charge extra for a quickie?"

I couldn't help smiling. Kim the whore! "You can have a fuck for free, quickie or slowie."

She did not answer. Instead she raised her pelvis a bit, until my dickhead was at her entrance. Then she impaled herself on me, slowly and steadily. I felt her warmth and wetness surround me, and joined her slow, grinding motion. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. She opened her mouth to let in my tongue. We fucked slowly for a while, then she sat up, still with me inside her.

"Don't worry about coming inside me, I'm on the pill."

She began riding me, I reached for her glistening breasts, and massaged them while she fucked me. Then she moaned loudly as she came, and moments later I did likewise. She leaned forward again, to rest her head on my upper chest. I was still inside her.

"Thank you, I really needed that," she said. "Now I can sleep."

"My pleasure. Literally! And if you want to do it again, I'll be ready."

She kissed me, and soon after was snoring softly on top of me. I felt my dick go soft, and slide out of her. We were messy and sticky down there, but I did not care, and soon after I too was sleeping happily.

When I woke up, she was already awake, lying on top of me. As soon as she saw I was awake, she asked me if I wanted to fuck again. I said yes, and we both rushed off to the toilet to pee. When we were done, I put more oil on her back, this time she let me do all her back, and clearly enjoyed as I worked the oil into the skin of her ass. Then she turned around, and I oiled her front. I had a raging erection as we returned to the bedroom. We fucked eagerly, with her on top so she did not touch the sheets more than necessary. Then we laid together for half an hour or so, until we finally got up and had breakfast. I reluctantly dressed after breakfast, as I had meetings at the university.

I got home just before dinner. Emma had cooked for us both, and had opened a bottle of good wine. After dinner, we went early and eagerly to bed. As she was about to climb onto me, I had to ask.

"Should we try a 69? I would like to lick your pussy."

"Sure. But maybe I should shave down there first."

"I would prefer not," I said. "I like it better this way. But I can shave if you want, I am the whore, after all."

She laughs. "Get into the bed, you fool."

I did, and she climbed onto me in the 69. I still felt her oiled skin sliding against mine, but now I had her wonderful pussy just in front of my face. I felt her lips on my dick, and dived in. Her pussy smelled of woman and was wet with excitement. I have always loved eating pussy, but Emma's was the best, dripping wet and with a large clit. I began sucking on her clit while her tongue played with my dick. It did not take long before I felt small spasms in her body, and she squirted a bit on my face. She continued to lick me, while I slowed down a bit. Eventually I felt my climax approaching.