Roommate Rule Number Three

When Kara had invited me to move in with her after I had responded to the "Roommate Wanted" ad she'd placed in the local paper, she laid out some simple ground rules: pay your rent on time, don't eat food that's not yours, and don't bother me during my workouts. She never said anything about not trying to date her, though maybe that was because she didn't think she had to state the obvious: super-attractive, college-educated women with well-paying jobs and homes of their own didn't usually fall for average-looking, thirty-something, out-of-shape recent divorcees renting a tiny room and working at the car wash to make ends meet until something better came along.

I had been living with Kara for a couple months and life had settled into a fairly simple routine of work, eat, sleep, and repeat. When I did see Kara she was cordial, but that was very rarely. She always seemed to be working and when she wasn't, she was exercising in the garage or sleeping. No guys (or girls, for that matter) ever seemed to stop by, so I assumed that she was single, or at least fairly anti-social, though I'd never been bold enough to broach the subject.

One night after work I padded through the kitchen into the laundry room, a beer in one hand and an armful of laundry in the other. I filled the washing machine with my sweat-and-soapy-water-soaked work clothes, added detergent, and began the cycle. Thunderous hard rock emanated from the garage, so Kara was obviously in the midst of one of her workouts. To this point I'd always respected Roommate Rule Number Three and never intruded on one of her exercise sessions, but tonight curiosity, loneliness, and considerable progress through my third beer got the best of me.

Confident that the blaring music would drown out the sounds of my entry, I carefully opened the garage door just wide enough to sneak a peek at Kara, but I didn't immediately locate her. The spacious garage was big enough for two cars, but there were no automobiles parked inside at this time. Presently unused workout gear littered one section of the garage: yoga mat, bar bells, a bench, a stack of free weight plates, and jump ropes. The section of garage directly in front of me was illuminated by one ultra-bright overhead light and had four extra-wide-and-high partitions set up so that it was impossible to see what was going on within the partitions.

I let the door partially close behind me and crept closer to the partitions. There was just enough space between one of the partitions for me to look inside. My bewildered eyes feasted on the unexpected sight of Kara, completely naked, lying spread-eagled on a rumpled sheet-covered mattress. Her trim, workout-toned body was lightly and evenly tanned from either nude sunbathing or time spent in a tanning booth. Her straight, mid-length strawberry blonde hair spilled onto an oversized pillow. Her breasts, which she was firmly squeezing, were just as round and full as I'd imagined they'd be from furtive glances I'd enjoyed while Kara was fully clothed, but not out of proportion with the rest of her body. Her flat belly, with just the hint of a soon-to-emerge six-pack, led to a neatly trimmed, reddish pubic mound.

Kara had set up a video camera on a tripod at the foot of the mattress and a full length mirror leaned up against one of the partitions. Since I was only able to see a side view of her body I had to glance at the mirror to fully appreciate what was going on between her legs. Three fingers on her right hand moved slowly in and out of her pussy, emerging wet and shiny with each stroke. Her left hand was slowly rubbing her clit, but she was evidently applying lots of pressure as the muscles in her left forearm strained. I was a little perplexed by the mirror because my ex-wife, and all the girlfriends before her for that matter, had been fairly shy about looking at their privates. Given the excitement I got from it, I could never understand their reluctance to check themselves out.

Kara's mouth was in a permanent O, though I couldn't hear the moans that must be coming from her mouth because of the overwhelmingly loud music. She had managed to work a fourth finger into her pussy and she was methodically massaging her clit with her thumb. With her left hand she took turns squeezing each breast, hard nipples now in clear contrast to the slightly-larger-than-expected areolas. What I wouldn't have given to lend a hand, but I had to remain undetected. Kara had what looked to be a mind-blowing orgasm, head and hair thrown back, hips bucking up and down, left breast clenched firmly in her left hand, while her soaking pussy vice-gripped the four right fingers moving in and out of it. Whoever Kara was filming this sexy spectacle for was going to get years of pleasure from viewing it.

The show wasn't over yet, though. Barely taking a breath after her orgasm, Kara reached into the folds of the disheveled sheets covering the mattress and produced the biggest dildo I have ever seen. It was milk-chocolaty in color and heavily veined. It must have been a foot long and at least as thick around as an empty paper towel roll with a pair of balls that looked like small avocados from my vantage point. I looked intently at the mirror as she began pushing the monster dildo into her well-lubed pussy, one leisurely inch at a time.

I saw Kara's mouth utter the words "Oh fuck" as she reached the halfway mark on the dildo. She had taken in at least six inches of the rubber giant and it didn't look like she could take much more. She began slowly pushing it in and out, coating the huge brown toy with foamy wetness, all the while stroking her engorged clit. A minute or so of this and Kara was gradually able to work more of the toy into herself until only a few inches separated her from the imposing ball sack at the end of the toy. Kara's head kept raising off the pillow and her stomach muscles tightened with each inward thrust.

Kara suddenly got up on her knees, the brown behemoth till halfway inside of her. She placed the base of the toy on the mattress and her hands on her knees, lowering herself even further onto the giant fake cock. She rocked back and forth, tossing her hair from side to side, her round boobs bobbing up and down. She rubbed her clit furiously and narrowed the distance between her pussy folds and the rubber ball sack. Kara had almost run out of room on the toy when an orgasm overtook her, clearly much stronger than the first. She appeared to lose control of her legs for a second and dipped even further onto the toy until only the bloated balls were visible. Then she fell over in an exhausted heap like a human bowling pin. I found myself staring at her ass and exposed pussy, which continued to spasm, slowly pushing the toy of out of her and onto the sheets.

As Kara continued to rest, I figured she would probably be done for the night so I had better get back to my room before I was discovered. I tiptoed to the garage door and closed it back quietly behind me, though all attempts at near silence were probably unnecessary given the still-blasting boom box and Kara's seeming deadness to the world. I don't even need to tell you what I thought about that night while jerking off or that my laundry never made it to the dryer. Or that I was, from that point onward, a lot less respectful of Roommate Rule Number Three.