The Spareroom

Staring out of the window, over the River Thames, from the simple but clean single rented bedroom Paul sighed deeply. He felt alone, completely alone, and felt the panic in his chest as the thoughts ran around his head.

"You are no good. No one wants you. No one cares. You are all alone in the world"

The thought was well worn now. It has it's own groove in his mind. He almost felt comfortable hearing it play on repeat. Overriding other thoughts, even suicidal thoughts, might have been a break from the repetition in his head.

As was his habit, his go to way of soothing, he lay wanking. Absentmindedly almost, his hand played up and down his mostly firm cock, hard erections no longer possible after the second orgasm, for the third straight hour in a row. Not fully hard he wondered if he would cum again. The four lots of semen he had already extracted from his balls lay dumped and drying on his stomach or sheets. Mostly dry now -- but from time to time he would move and feel the wetness of his cum. Everytime he felt that wetness he would feel the volume in his head increase.

"You are no good. No one wants you. No one cares. You are all alone in the world"

The increase in volume only ever helped drive his, now, sore arm and wrist onwards. Pulling at his raw skin he continued his sinful masturbation. He knew, from experience, he would cum again. He knew this would continue until sleep and exhaustion got him and stopped the thoughts and the wanking. Six wanks, or rather orgasms, before sleep or exhaustion got him. It was all one long wank after all, sometimes lasting hours or even a whole night or day. If he was not working, he would lay on his filthy bedsheet trying to hide from the loud repetition in his head, working his cock and balls with arm and porn avoiding life outside his room.

"You are no good. No one wants you. No one cares. You are all alone in the world"

A month into his new job, university now in his past, a week into this flat. He had thought he would be much happier than he was.

The long awaited step into the "real world" heralded so much more freedom and fun was not what he expected. The loneliness of university was replaced with the loneliness of work. Potentially he now realised it was worse as there was a great deal more stress in work with his colleagues than his old classmates.

The joy of moving into a flat, out of Bed and Breakfast and university halls, was supposed to be the start of a more social life. Surely, in the real world, he would be OK. Surely he was a decent human being. Surely people would become his friends and he would have a social life. Surely, surely, surely was often the thought that triggered the repetitive chant in his mind. If only life was as he thought it surely should be.

"You are no good. No one wants you. No one cares. You are all alone in the world"

Struggling at work was bad enough. It caused lots of his anxieties and belief that he would be forever lonely. Now, to add to that, he felt a need to keep to his room in the flat rather than spend time with his new flatmate Gemma. He was no sure why but he sensed he was just a burden to have in the flat and every time they spoke he very quickly got the sense that she was irritated by him and with the boyfriend around more often than he expected it felt like he was not wanted. Rather than keep feeling that way, he kept himself to his room -- a self-imposed prisoner of sorts, unless hunger or the need to use the bathroom was too great. Loneliness was getting him, and he knew he was slipping back into the depressions of old, from school, that he thought he would have put behind him by this stage in life. Surely it should not be like this.

Though he kept in touch with the family that he had stayed with from the B&B that he initially moved in when he moved to the city. Mrs Smith checking in every few days that he was ok in the "big city" there was not one else who knew he was here or how he was getting on. No one seemed to notice his existence. His Mum long since silent once he moved out of the house at 17 to go to university.

He was proud of himself for having finished and done well in his degree. Securing his first job, with a large global company, getting this room secured after only a few days in this new city he had thought he could make it all work. What money he had saved during university was rapidly running out -- as he was yet to get his first wage - he was delighted at the cost of £600 a month for a central London single bedroom flatshare.

The first visit to the flat had been very pleasant chat with Gemma - the owner and the only other person staying there he had thought. At 28 she was only a few years older than his 23 and he had felt comfortable with her, and they chatted easily about university, work, and living in the city. She was quietly spoken, obviously polite and well mannered, he had immediately harboured some sexual attraction to her. Gemma was pretty, by most standards, though she dressed in a way that hid her figure with long loose sleeved jumpers and joggers when he had met her. Still a virgin even after four years at university he had masturbated more than once - before he had moved in and since - about the thought of perhaps catching her in the bathroom or getting changed.

She had got back in touch after that first meet to say he could have the spareroom but her boyfriend wanted to meet him. He was OK with that and, though a little sad to learn she was not single, it sounded a sensible move for a woman living on her own. She had explained that he stayed over some times - which he did not think would be a problem in the two bedroomed flat.

Though since he had moved in last Sunday Mark, the boyfriend, had been here every day. He had quickly picked up from Mark that he was not welcome in the living room at all and tolerated in the bathroom and kitchen. Paul was not happy and had been annoyed when Gemma explained Mark was married and only stayed here if things were not working well at home. Things were not well at home at all and Mark was here an awful lot.

That was bad enough but since Mark had been here every night this first week in the flat there had been constant arguments between him and Gemma. They never argued with him in the room -- but it was impossible not to hear them in such a small flat. The flat felt an unpleasant place to live. Mark, being older and slightly aggressive in his language made Paul feel threatened. It started from the way he shook his hand when Paul entered the flat with his worldly goods over his shoulders.

Shaking his hand more painfully than firmly before closing the door on him in his room as though that was where he was to stay.The initial meeting with Mark had felt more formal than the initial chat with Gemma but Paul accepted that he wanted to know "his girl", his words, would be safe with a stranger moving in.

Mark was taller than Paul and quite a bit older - at 50 - so Paul found himself deferring to Mark's authority in the initial meeting. He had accepted, though finding the demands unsettling, to use the bathroom and kitchen only at set times so he did not impact Gemma's life too much. He was welcome to use the living room - he was told - but the fact of mentioning it the way he had meant that Paul felt he should not use it. That was at the first meeting but the reality this week had been much more strained. He was not happy and had started to browse for other places to stay but no where was there a flat in this neighbourhood for only £600 a month all-inclusive room rental. He was feeling really trapped and more anxious every day in his new, supposedly great, place.

Lost in thought, in only his boxers, Paul noticed he was cold and crawled back into bed. It was only 8am on Saturday and he had expected to be able to get up and have some breakfast and relax on his first day off. The harsh tones of the argument on the other side of the door said otherwise. Pulling off his earphones to check if they were still arguing he heard silence - until listening more intently he now recognised, porn films his only experience, the sounds of fucking.

The immediate "good boy" in him went to pull on his earphones to give some privacy but then he paused. Finding himself aroused he wanted to hear what was happening. It did sound like they were trying to be quiet but he was certain they were in the living room - only feet away from him on the other side of the door - fucking. He could here the, almost regular slap of flesh on flesh, the breathing slowly becoming heavier and unhidden confirmed that Mark and Gemma now felt they could ignore him sufficiently to fuck outside his door. He did not matter.

The gasping breath getting louder though meant that it was easy to find his hand stroking himself as he realised he was as close to real sex as he had ever been.

Then silence.

The suddenness of the silence making Paul pause, not moving, as he gripped his cock tightly under the covers. Wondering what had happened he heard one small word, obviously intended to be a whisper, "swallow now!". Though the underlying harshness in that phrase could be heard through the door -- Paul came at that intensity of power and sex so close. He imagined what was happening and it was enough -- semen spurted onto his hand, into his boxers and over his lean stomach.

The front door closing abruptly brought him back to his senses as he felt the wetness on his hand.

The quiet knock on the bedroom door made him freeze, "Mark - are you awake?" was the quiet question from Gemma immediately before his bedroom door was opened. Looking up from his seating position in the bed - hand still on his wet cock under the duvet he could see that Gemma was obviously crying.

"Are you ok?" he asked though his own position and sense of being caught made it sound more shocked than perhaps the caring and compassionate way he wanted it to sound.

"I am so sorry - you would have heard that I know and if you want to move out, I would totally understand", she stood tears no longer running but obviously waiting for a response from Paul.

She had opened the door a little wider and Paul's eyes could not help notice she had on pj shorts, revealing much more of her than he had seen so far in his weeks stay, but it was the strapped pj top that dragged his eyes to her breasts. Always hidden until now he could not avoid staring and, also acutely aware of his hand on his cock under the covers, he found himself getting aroused. He could only stare in silence, blush growing on his face, as his mind screamed to find something to say.

"Are you OK?", he asked again. The silent few seconds making him very aware that Gemma could not have missed the fact that his eyes were unable to meet hers. She nodded and stepped into his room - now standing in the middle of the room - his eyes stared intently at this, almost naked, woman in his room.

"Mark has asked that I apologise for him staying all week and...", the blush rising in her chest noticeable even to Paul's limited ability to focus, "that he is sorry that ...", blushing intense now as Gemma paused struggling to find a way of saying what she had intended to say.

Paul, not moving for fear of letting Gemma know his hand was on his cock also blushing deeply, noticed the redness spreading down over her chest and the sight of Gemma in front of him blushing in her pjs and his hand on his cock meant that he was getting hard again.

"He is sorry that he has been in a bad mood this week", she took a big breath as though summoning courage, "and wants to know if me being naked in the flat is an acceptable apology?". Paul's body responded before his words. His cock now fully erect in his hand. His mouth dry. He could only nod in response.

The silence, the intensity of the moment, meant that he noticed the blue flowers on the waistband of Gemma's pj shorts as they slid down. As though he needed to focus on something - not believing a woman was right in front of him naked from the waist down - his eyes stayed glued to the shorts and the shape of the flower as they shorts rested on the ground.

The absence of words, the absence of response, meant that Gemma just continued and he knew she was naked. He could see her naked, but his eyes still focused on the flower on the waistband of her shorts on the floor.

He started to raise his eyes, travelling up her legs, staring at the first cunt he had ever seen - stunned to see it shaved bare. His eyes resting there in the silence before taking in the full sight of Gemma standing, head bowed, full breasts and bright red erect nipples stood in front of him. It was the words written on Gemma though that shocked him. Her shame evident now she started openly crying as she stood in front of Paul naked. The silence continued. Paul unable to find words. Gemma, not sure what she was supposed to do having obeyed her owner, stood in silence naked being looked at by Paul.

The words - written on her by Mark now reached into Paul's awareness as he read the words written across Gemma breasts, stomach and thighs. The words as though said by someone else spoken loudly as though the shock of the words needed said our loud.

Paul read the bright red words on Gemma's naked body out loud as she stood and sobbed in front of him. "Apologies Paul. Please use this cunt as an apology. Back in a week. Best - Mark" written on her breasts, stomach and thighs

It was on the final words on her cunt that Paul did not say aloud and only stared at Gemma's bare sex fixated on the word. Not like the other words more like a tattoo.

"Cunt"