Serendipitous Dominance

It was one of those oppressive late summer days. One of those days that feels like one-hundred and ten degrees in the shade at seven in the morning. A day when you can't get cool even when you're naked in a bathtub overflowing with ice cubes. She groaned as she rolled gracelessly off of her liquid magma mattress and on to the mercifully cooler wood floor. Her respite from the heat was only temporary as the sweat beading her face caused her cheek to adhere itself to the floor's resin. She heaved an irritated sigh, and slowly pushed herself up to a seated position. As she sat up, her big toe gently brushed against the side of something smooth, which began rolling away from her extended foot with the discordant jangle of glass on wood. It took her a few moments before her hazy, heat-fogged brain registered the beer bottle for what it was.

Just as her brain had worked out "beer bottle," and had begun working on the next question of what it was doing in her room, she heard the vague morning sounds of someone using the bathroom. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have thought twice—given that she'd been living with the same roommate for three years. However, said roommate had managed to score some vacation time, and decided to take a much needed visit home to escape from the last of the summer's heat tyranny. As she continued straining her ears while she decided what to do about the curious intruder currently in her bathroom...brushing his teeth?...the empty beer bottle managed to roll back against her foot.

The mysterious beer bottle was really beginning to annoy her. She wasn't what you'd call a "neat freak," but the concept of trash going in trash cans always struck a cord with her; there was no way she would've left an empty beer bottle in her room. Especially not on her floor. She glared at the offending beverage container, noticing as she did that it wasn't even her brand. Her initial irritation suddenly gave way to fear as she thought back to the intruder in her apartment. "Oh God..." her mind desperately supplied. She thrust her hand frantically under the nearest pillow on her bed, flailing her arm about, hoping to find her cellphone. Finally, her nails clacked against her phone's hard candy shell casing. The phone slid easily out from under the downy protection of the pillow.

Just as her finger was poised to perform the obligatory finger-swipe unlocking ritual, a text message from her roommate illuminated the screen. "Glad to hear my boy found the apartment ok. Sounds like you had a..." In her somewhat alarmed state, it took her eyes a few minutes to register the start of the message as it flashed on her screen, and it took her brain a few minutes more to understand what the message meant: there wasn't an intruder in her place! She finished the unlocking motion she'd started before being startled, and opened up her roommate's complete text. "...great time last night! Sorry I missed it. He's one of my best friends, almost like a brother really, so I'm sure he won't give you any trouble this week. I'm not responsible if you two decide to play any more drinking games though. 0;-)"

She rubbed her eyes as she tried thinking back to what had gone down the previous night. Somewhere in the back of her mind there was the vague recollection of receiving a phone call asking for directions to the apartment. Two mixed six packs of quality imports and microbrews being skillfully Tetrised into the apartment's already overcrowded fridge. The quasi-awkward introductions, and the brilliant idea of playing a drinking game as an icebreaker.

Although the fractured recollection wasn't ideal, she decided it was enough for her to go on as she rocked on to her knees and gingerly pushed herself to stand up. She took a minute to steady herself before bouncing on the balls of her feet. It was an odd morning ritual, and she wasn't really that sure when or how she'd started doing it, but she found the bouncing helped wake her up, so she did it. After a few seconds of jiggling, she reached over stiffly to pick up the beer bottle and began walking out of her room. It was only when she was halfway down the hall that it occurred to her—she was only wearing what'd she gone to bed in: her standard super mini boxers, half unsnapped, and a tiny satin bra that barely came up high enough to cover her nipples. As the realization took its sweet time to sink in, she stood dumbly in the hallway debating what to do: go back to her room and change, or figure "fuck it, what was the big deal anyway?"

Luckily for her pride, her brain was leaning toward the fuck it option given that it washerapartment and it was too damn hot for anything more decent, when she noticed his head pop around the corner of the kitchen. It took each of them a minute to recognize the other, but as she languidly took stock of his features, more of the previous evening began to come into focus. She remembered the slightly curly brown hair because it reminded her of one of her own best friends from college. His blue eyes held that quixotic property of being both blue and brown at the same time unless you looked really close under a good light. Her eyes began to drop lower to see the rest of him, but she lost sight of his body as the door of the refrigerator opened and he ducked into the fridge.

He regretted his decision not to put on pants when he woke up. While his black, blue, and gray plaid boxers were keeping him from melting in the unrelenting heat inside the house, they were doing little to help him shield his reaction to his best friend's roommate. His cock began swelling as soon as he'd seen her red head emerge from her room, her ponytail barely holding its form enough to be called such. Despite standing in the kitchen, he knew her clear blue eyes had to bleary from all the drinking they'd done the night before. As his eyes slid lower, they drank in the rest of her. Her full supple breasts were threatening to burst through the feeble dam that her black satin demi bra provided. The decorative lace edging on the top of each cup barely covered the perfectly pink nipples he could tell accented the creamy skin of her breasts. His gaze dropped to her pert ass as she turned her back to him to close the door to her room. The boxer shorts she wore looked she'd owned them for years from the way the thin material both covered her like a second skin and was bordering on translucent from being frequently put through the wash. As she turned around though, he could truly appreciate her choice of pajama bottoms: her unsnapped boxers not only accentuated her well-toned stomach, but they also showed off the top of her neatly trimmed landing strip as the one closed snap barely kept the pants from falling off her lithe body completely.

The brief glimpse of pubic hair did him in. As his brain registered that she was a natural red head, his own boxers lost the little remaining room they had left. Although he wasn't the type of person to be shy about his body or to be prudish about his sexuality, he did try to be a gentleman when he could. Since he wasn't sure if she meant to parade her partial nudity around a relative stranger, he decided the best thing he could do would be to become extremely interested in discovering if they had scrambled egg fixings...and hoping that the welcome chill of the fridge would diffuse the unquenchable heat radiating from between his legs. His tapered fingers closed around the cool neck of the glass milk bottle and his arm began its serpentine extraction from the fridge as he heard her muted footsteps come to a stop beside the open fridge door.

"I hear the oven is the more traditional method," she said. Despite her attempt at sounding light-hearted, she found her voice had taken on a much huskier quality. She saw his shoulders jerk a moment before she heard his surprised "ow"—a tell-tale sign of one of his body parts making unintended contact with the interior of her fridge. His momentary klutziness made his extraction from the interior of her fridge less graceful than he would've liked, but the slight throb in his elbow helped distract his mind from a different throb that had started when he heard her voice. As he straightened up, milk bottle clutched in his hand, she uttered a reflexive "sorry," but as her hungry eyes took in the rest of him, her mind blanked on why she'd said anything. His skin was that tawny color that looked like toasted marshmallow—it wasn't the type of tan a guy developed at the beach: you had to be born with it. She was a little surprised at the broadness of his shoulders given how narrow her fridge was, and how it looked like it had engulfed him when he'd buried his torso inside it. The back of her mind wickedly suggested that the type of flexibility that must've helped him navigate her fridge must be incredibly useful for other things as well, but the saner part of herself tramped that thought down before it got enough hold of her mind to embarrass her. His chest and arms were toned as were his firm abs, but she liked the fact that they weren't overly built up. It was the kind of body that made a woman feel safe within its embrace, rather than the type that made her worry that an involuntary muscle twitch might result in permanent injury. 'He isn't for sale,' her inner voice chided her, 'besides, he's your roommate's best friend. It'd be like sleeping with her brother.'

She seemed a million miles away, so he wasn't surprised that he had to repeat his question. "Can I get you something while I'm in here?" He knew he'd intruded on her personal discussion because a delicate blush had started working its way over the bridge of her nose as it rushed across the tops of her cheeks. As he watched her quickly lower her gaze to her feet, he noticed her unconsciously lick her lower lip before gently worrying it between her teeth. From the reflexive way she did it, he knew she didn't mean it in a seductive way, but he still couldn't help but briefly imagine what other faces she might make. His own reverie distracted him for longer than he thought since the next thing he knew he felt her smooth skin skirting past his ribs as she reached into the depths of the fridge for a cool bottle of water. As he glanced at her extended back, he noticed how her boxers practically burst due to their inability to keep the perfect globes of her ass adequately contained. He tightened his grip on the grounding chill of the glass milk bottle as his palm began to itch: he could just imagine how well her supple ass cheek would fit in the palm of his hand as he caressed it; how delightfully pink it would turn as he spanked her mercilessly for being such a naughty, naughty little girl. The barest of shudders worked its way down his spine just as she was extricating herself from the fridge, for which he was grateful, because he hoped her own exit distracted her from the effect the closeness of her physical proximity was having on him.

Just as her shoulder was clearing the edge of the fridge, she chanced a casual glance at his crotch, counting on the general positioning of her body to shield her actions from his view. If he had been able to see her face, she was sure he would've laughed because she knew her eyes must've grown as wide as those old time cartoon characters'. To say that he filled out his boxers nicely did him an injustice. Despite the dark colored plaid, she could plainly see his considerable girth through the thinness of the cotton that was currently encumbering him. Her breath began growing a little erratic as she closed her eyes, imagining what it would feel like to have him inside her. She knew she needed to get away from him soon or else she wouldn't be able to hide how moist she was getting thinking about his meaty cock, so with that, she quickly pulled the rest of her body out of the fridge.

Once she had a chance to step away from him, she quickly busied herself with picking out the perfect water glass in an effort to calm her raging hormones. He was thankful for her distraction as he shut the fridge door since it gave him a few moments to will his tormented dick into some semblance of submission only to be thwarted as she said, "Hey, do you need to use the bathroom? Since it's, like, beastly hot right now, I was planning on taking a shower, but I'll wait if you need to go first." He couldn't help his immediate distraction at her words: his mind instantly conjured up an image of her under a rushing stream of water, her hands fondling her breasts, pinching her hardening nipples. In his mind, he saw her slim fingers sensuously slid down the sides of her torso, over the tops of her luscious thighs before ever, ever so slowly penetrating the apex between her legs. His mind further supplied him a picture of her, head thrown back, biting her lip, as she fucked her eager pussy with her hand before finally calling out his name.

In the time it took his mind to play out its fantasy of her masturbating to him, she had procured a glass, emptied her water bottle into it, and drained the glass. It was only as she started to walk back past him to the hall to get to the bathroom that he managed to stutter out, "Nah, I'm good. I went earlier." As she nodded her recognition that she'd heard him, the elastic that had been attempting to hold her ponytail in place finally ceded defeat, causing her hair to drop until it just barely tickled the small of her back. He continued watching her for a second longer before she disappeared into the recesses of the bathroom, and then he turned his attention to making himself some breakfast and forgetting all about his uncharacteristic lapse in sanity.

As the door to the bathroom clicked silently behind her, she took a minute to rest heavily against it. Normally, when it got this hot, she wanted to strip out of her clothes as fast as possible so that she could feel the delightful chill of the cold water against her skin that much faster. Today though, she wanted to savor it a little as she pretended he was in there with her undressing her. As she raised her hands to the clasp nestled snuggly between her breasts, she took a minute to feel the heaviness of each orb as it rested in her hand. She ran her fingernails delicately around the lacy edging of her bra cups, allowing her fingers to deftly slip inside to quickly flick her rapidly puckering nipples. Her bra fell open immediately as she twisted open the clasp. She then quickly shrugged off the unnecessary piece of lingerie. Next, her hands easily popped open the last snap on her boxers. Despite their precarious balancing on her hips, the wet cotton needed help to fall from her frame, and as she slid her hands inside her pants to push them off, she couldn't resist slipping one, solitary finger insider her pussy, unsurprised to find that her finger was quickly covered in pussy juice. As her boxers hit the bathroom floor, she slowly removed her finger and brought it to her nose, inhaling her womanly scent deeply before quickly swiping her tongue around the top of her finger.

She leaned over the tub to get the shower started, and she moaned appreciatively as she felt her pussy stretch a little from the bending. Almost immediately, she found herself thinking, 'I wonder how much better it would feel if he were the reason my pussy was stretching...' Mentally, she gave herself a little shake before stepping into the stream of water whose temperature could best be described as "icicle inducing," but what was the only thing that seemed capable of cooling down her fevered body.

She wasn't sure exactly how long she stayed in the shower; all she knew was that when she stuck her head out the door as recon, he appeared to have ventured back into her roommate's room, where he was staying. Confident that she wasn't going to accidently run into him during her brief walk from the bathroom to her room, she wrapped a towel that left little to the imagination around herself, and rapidly walked the five steps it took to get her from the bathroom to the safety of the inside of her room. Under normal circumstances, she would've brought her change of clothes into the bathroom with her, but since she had nowhere to be for the rest of the day, and it was too ungodly hot for regular clothes, she decided she was going to just chill out in her room in the buff, laying on her towel on the wooden floor. As she unwrapped the microfiber towel from around her torso, she wondered about what he was doing. Her roommate had mentioned that he was in town for a few days as part of a writers' convention, so she figured he must've been in her roommate's room doing something writer-y.

While the cold shower had served to relieve her body from the oppressiveness of the heat index, it had done nothing to quench the burning flame that was turning her nethers into molten lava. Her roommate had been telling her for months that she needed to get laid since she hadn't had sex since her most recent breakup; however, unlike her carefree roommate, she couldn't bring herself to hit on a random guy at a bar, and she hadn't really met anyone that got her remotely interested, let alone excited enough to force herself on him. He was different though: he intrigued her. Without realizing it, she had laid down on the towel with her legs spread out as wide as they could go, and one of her hands had begun rolling and pinching her left nipple between two fingers. She felt her right hand ghosting over her toned stomach, down her body until the heel of her hand was resting right above the entrance to her eager depths. Her index finger slipped inside her dripping slit and readily entered her hungry hole. She knew it wasn't enough to satisfy her though, so she rapidly shoved her middle finger inside herself. It still wasn't enough though. Her fingers slid out of her easily as she began working her clit in slow, agonizing circles.

Her body was so focused on its need to get off that her brain failed to register the faint squeak of floorboards as he walked toward her room. He'd been working in his room for over an hour when he heard her get out of the shower. Since he was her houseguest, he figured it'd be the sociable thing to try hanging out with her, so he'd waited about thirty minutes (figuring that's how long it'd take her to get dressed) and then went down to knock on her door. Just as he got close though, he began to hear a very distinct buzzing noise. Although he knew it was rude to eavesdrop on people, his curiosity got the better of him as he sat down next to the door to her room, his ear straining for any additional noises. It wasn't long before his suspicions were confirmed about the source of the buzzing as his astute hearing picked up her throaty moans. As he sat listening while she fucked herself with her vibrator, he noticed her moans become more desperate and plaintive: she had reached a plateau and couldn't push herself over into orgasmic bliss. If it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to have to explain what'd he been doing outside her door, he would've gladly helped her out, as it was though, a small part of his brain hoped she stayed frustrated because then he might still get a chance to put his moves on her. Just as his brain was beginning to drift into its own fantasy realm, he heard something—something that shocked him.

Her vibrator was on its max setting, but it still wasn't enough. Keeping the thought of him firmly in her mind—so she could at least pretend she was talking to him, instead of to herself—she let the words she'd been bottling up spill out of her mouth. "Ooooo, baby, pleeeeeeeeeeaseeeeeeee," she dragged it out. "I neeeeeeeeeeed to come for you. God, you get me so fucking wet. I'm just a wet little slut for you. I just want to feel to fucking me with your cock, and your hand, and your mouth. I just wanna show you how tight and wet I am for you. Pleeeeease! I wanna come for you sooooooooooo badly. God. I'm such a wet little whore for you...Oh yeah, baby! Oh that's it. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God! Oh yes, baby!"