Three Men and a Slut Pt. 01

I stared at the house with some apprehension from the driver's seat of my little Honda Fit. The car was stuffed to the brim with my belongings, and that was the house I was about to schlep them into. I had just pulled up. The sun was shining. The late August temperature was still warm but not sweltering. It was an excellent day to move into a new place in a new town. But the prospect of this particular arrangement took a bit of nerve to build up to.

I was a new graduate student in chemistry at the local university in a small town in the Northeast. The town was so small, in fact, that the housing market got pretty competitive among the student population—a fact I learned all too late. When I got around to looking for a place to stay, there just weren't any options. Well, there were options, but they were all quite a ways out of my price range.

Except for this place. It was the only room left that I could afford. The only problem was that I would be sharing the place with three guys I had never met before. They had had a fourth housemate, but he graduated last year, and they needed someone to take the empty room he left behind. The rent was perfect for my limited budget, and I had been assured I'd have the best room in the house. The landlord insisted that the three current occupants had been model tenants. "Nice, quiet guys that never get into trouble." With no other option on the table, I had signed up without even getting to see the place first.

And now here I was, a confident young woman about to step into a completely new life experience.

"Confident, right. Here we go..." I mumbled to myself as I opened the car door and stepped out.

Walking up to the door, I reached out and gave the doorbell a short jab. The electric sound of a synthesized chime could just be heard through the thick wooden door.

A moment later, the door cracked open to reveal the face of a young man sporting a pair of thin-rimmed glasses and a slightly disheveled mess of brown hair. He looked at me with confusion in his face.

"Uh, hi. Can I help you?" He said.

"Hi. I'm Sam Richards," I responded with a smile. Then after a pause, I continued, "I'm your new housemate."

"You're my...? What? Oh! Sam. Ah... Oh..." he stammered a bit awkwardly. "We didn't know you were... well... uh..."

"That I was a girl?" I asked. "Yeah, I get that on occasion." Apprehension began creeping back up my spine.

"Uh, no, yeah, uh, I guess. Sorry. Oh! Hey... Where are my manners? Come on in!" He smiled and gave a little shrug as he pulled the door open wider, revealing a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt that advertised some kind of physics joke that I didn't have the wherewithal to grasp just then. Stepping aside to give me room to enter, he knocked over a bunch of odd-looking tubes that had been left leaning against the inside wall of the entryway. They bounced about noisily, spilling all over the floor. He frantically bent down to shove them out of the way.

"Damnit! Sorry. Come on in!"

I smiled and chuckled a little, feeling the ice somewhat broken. Stepping through the doorway, I found myself in a short hallway with stairs on one side leading to the upper floor, two closed doors spaced somewhat apart on the opposite side, and what looked like a living room at the far end.

"My name's Mike, Michael Higgins," he said and offered his hand, which I took with a smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"Well, um, welcome, I guess," he smiled. "Uh, hey, let me give you a quick tour. That's my room there," his fingers tapped the first door as he went past, leaving it closed.

"This is a half-bath," he said, knocking open the bathroom door. A glance inside revealed just enough space for a toilet, sink, and mirror. It seemed reasonably clean, but the fittings were definitely old and stained from long use.

"The living room," Mike continued as we stepped through the end of the hallway. The space was rather large and appeared to be functionally two rooms. It was furnished with a long sofa and a recliner chair on the near half of the left wall. They were facing an entertainment system pressed up against the opposite wall. On the far side of the room stood a dining table that looked like it could seat six but had only five mismatched chairs arrayed around it. There was a decent sized TV, several game systems, a stereo system, speakers, and a whole mess of wires, game controllers, and game cartridges littered about on the floor. Piles of books, loose leaf, and random used dishware were scattered all over a coffee table in front of the sofa. More books and paper were piled up on the floor here and there. And there were random articles of clothing strewn about on the furniture and some of the chairs at the table. The table, itself, was rather clear of refuse, aside from a small stack of board games standing on one end.

"The kitchen's through here," Mike led me through the living room to a door next to the dining table.

In contrast to the spacious living room, the kitchen was rather narrow, though long. Lots of cabinets lined the walls. There was a decent sized fridge and an old stove heaped with dirty pots. A sink stood nearby the stove with an apparently unused dishwasher under the counter between them. And a grungy old microwave in one corner appeared to complete the set of appliances. There seemed to be plenty of counter space, but it was difficult to see it beneath piles of plates and bowls, silverware, cereal and pasta boxes (some empty, some not), beer bottles and soda cans (some empty, some not), and random other kitchen paraphernalia. The one clear bit of counter space was currently in use by a guy who was making a sandwich.

"This is Rob Smith. Rob, this is Sam Richards. He uh, well, he's a she," Mike awkwardly explained.

"Uh, hi," Rob stammered as he turned and offered his hand. He stood a foot taller than Mike with darker, shorter hair. Jeans and T-shirt seemed to be the norm. Rob's T-shirt sported a large yellow smiley face on white.

"Nice to you meet you, Rob," I replied, shaking his hand firmly.

Mike pointed to a set of cabinets. "These are yours. Dishware is over here. Silverware in that drawer. The fridge is kind-of fend-for-yourself. The door at the far end leads to the basement. It's unfinished and rather dingy, but you're welcome to store stuff down there. And there's a washer and dryer right at the bottom of the stairs."

We turned and headed back to the front of the house.

"You're room is upstairs as are Rob's and Bill's. Come on, I'll show you," he said as he rounded the base of the stairs and bounded up. I followed at my own pace, carefully avoiding a stray pair of shoes and a light jacket left halfway up the flight.

At the top of the stairs, Mike pushed open a door to reveal another bathroom.

"Here's the bigger bathroom with the shower," he said as he continued along a hallway. I glanced inside and was impressed that it seemed rather clean compared to the rest of the house.

"This is Rob's room," he indicated the first door on the right. "Your room is the big one on the left, and Bill's is the one on the right at the end of the hall." The door to Rob's room was ajar, and I could see an unkempt bed, several computer monitors on a desk, a couple of keyboards, laundry all over the place.

Mike walked down to Bill's door, giving it a rap, "Bill, Sam's here."

I stepped through the door to my room and found a large bed, empty dresser, and a desk. There was a large window that looked out over the backyard and the backs of houses on the next street over. I opened a pair of doors embedded in one wall to find a fairly spacious closet with a smattering of hangars and some shelving. Turning around, my eyes wandered over the walls, my feet felt the soft give of the carpeting. It wasn't a bad room. It seemed comfy enough.

As I turned, Mike stepped through the door followed closely by another guy.

"Sam, this is Bill Davis. Bill, Sam Richards. He's a, uh..."

"He's a she!" I finished for Mike and stepped forward with a smile, offering my hand to Bill. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Sam. Welcome!" Bill said, "I hope you like the room. It's the best one in the house."

"It looks great!"

"Well, do you need help bringing stuff in?" Bill asked.

"Um. Sure," I shrugged, and we all headed back downstairs. Bill called for Rob to come help, and before I knew it, all my personal belongings were being schlepped in and upstairs by my new housemates, and I proceeded to settle into my new room.

-

Over the next few days, we all worked through the first few challenges of living under the same roof - figuring out when each person takes a shower, how to not step on each others toes in the kitchen, what times the washer and dryer spoken for, etc. If I had one word to describe the three guys I was living with, it would be "awkward". They were always nice and friendly, but they often didn't know what to say or do in my presence, stumbling in their speech or giving me a little wider berth than necessary.

Though conversation was sparse, I did learn that Mike was studying physics, Rob was a computer science major, and Bill was a mechanical engineer. They were all undergrads—Rob and Bill were seniors, Mike a junior. That left me being the "adult" of the house. However, as far as undergrads go, they seemed pretty tame. About the rowdiest they got seemed to be when they were playing some board game around the dinner table.

They were also somewhat messy. Books, clothes, dishes, you name it, were left haphazardly around everywhere. I mentioned it on occasion, and they would dutifully clean up specific items I'd point at, but new things would quickly fill in the gap. Oddly enough, they kept the bathrooms rather pristine, which I appreciated and found somewhat endearing. The only exception was one morning when I found someone's bike paraphernalia scattered around the upstairs bathroom when I went in to take my morning shower. And when I later came out of the bathroom, Rob was standing there apologizing for the mess. In the end, I decided I'd give them a pass on the rest of the house, though not without grumbling about it on occasion. And I had to admit to myself, overall, they were kind of cute in that awkward, nerdy sort of way.

Things at the university launched into full swing the Monday after I moved in, and I was quickly immersed in lots of other concerns—finding things on campus, meeting my adviser, settling into an office, meeting the other grad student I was to share my office with, figuring out where things were in the lab, and so on. Before I knew it, almost a full week had passed, and the trepidation I had felt about moving in with three guys I didn't know melted away in the face of the challenges of being a grad student. A week went by, then two.

-

It was late on a Friday. I schlepped myself home, tired after a long day in the lab. They certainly don't pull their punches as far as work load goes when you enter grad school. All I wanted to do was grab some left-over pizza from the fridge and climb into bed.

The house seemed dark when I walked up to the door. However, when I cracked the door open, I could see light coming from the living room down the hallway. It seemed like the guys were probably watching a movie with the lights down. However, it seemed rather quiet too. I wondered if they were watching something suspenseful as I stepped through the door.

Then I caught sight of Mike sitting in the arm chair. Well, it was part of Mike. From my position at the other end of the hallway, I could only see the lower half of his body. And though it took me a moment, the realization came that one part of his lower body that was visible was his erect penis. His jeans were unzipped and pulled open, and his penis was sticking straight up on full display with his hand wrapped around it. He was slowly stroking it up and down.

Porn, I thought. They were watching porn. I assumed the other two were there on the couch just out of sight. Or maybe it was just Mike by himself. I couldn't tell.

As quietly as I could, I closed the door behind me, and then, curiosity driving me forward, I slowly tip-toed down the hallway trying not to disturb them but intent on confirming my suspicion. When I got about halfway, my view expanded enough to see two other pairs of feet sticking out from around the corner, confirming that all three were in the room.

Craning my head a little further forward and turning it to the right, I could just see what they were watching on the screen. It looked to be a bathroom scene. The shower was running and presumably there was someone behind the shower curtain. As far porn went, it seemed rather tame at this particular moment. There was no sound, and there didn't seem to be much going on. However, as my eyes took in the scene, I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

A moment later, the shower curtain drew back, and that sinking feeling turned into raw shock and then flashed into anger as I realized it wasn't porn after all. It was video of our upstairs bathroom. And I was the one who was in the shower. I saw myself on the screen, nude, reaching out for a towel and then beginning to dry off.

"What the fuck!" I yelled loudly as I stepped into the room.

The three guys each wrenched their faces toward me.

"Ah!" Rob uttered.

"Sam!" Bill called out.

Mike grunted. His face contorted slightly. His eyes widened in surprise. And suddenly his cock jerked, launching a fountain of cum straight up into the air. The burst must have reached a good foot and a half of height in the air before falling back into his lap just as another burst followed, then a third, and a fourth. By the time the fifth salvo sputtered out, the ejaculations lost their oomph, and after that a thin drool of cum dribbled out of his cockhead with the last few spasms, spilling down over his glans. Mike let out a sigh and relaxed back against the chair. Then he seemed to realize the situation he was in, and his face blushed as his eyes looked demurely down at the floor.

A moment later, I realized I had frozen there watching him and his spasming cock. I snapped myself out of it and noticed the other two had turned to watch Mike's display as well. I also noticed that they both had their cocks out as well, though they appeared to have had the awareness and self-consciousness to try to cover themselves with their hands.

"What the fuck!" I repeated, remembering my anger. "You guys have been filming me!?!"

"Sam, it's not like..." Rob started.

"It's not like what!?!" I interrupted him. "It's not like you're sitting here jerking yourselves off while watching me shower?"

"We didn't mean..." Rob tried again.

"What gives you the right to film me!?! What gives you the right to invade my privacy!?! My trust! How could you do this to me!" I was practically yelling at them, tears now coming to my eyes. I paused a moment to turn back to the TV. The video was still playing, showing my nude form now laying the towel aside as I stepped towards the mirror, leaning forward to check something on my face. My breasts loomed large on the screen—presumably I was standing very close to the camera wherever it was.

"We didn't do it on purpose, Sam. It was an accident," said Bill.

"Can someone please turn the video off?" I asked as I turned back to them.

Rob quickly jumped up in response, forgetting that his dick was still sticking out of his pants. It bobbed comically in front of him has he jumped over the coffee table to get to the entertainment system.

"My god, put you dick away first," I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, and he awkwardly stopped mid-stride to stuff his dick back in his pants. Mike and Bill quickly followed suit as well, Mike sheepishly wiping some of the cum off his hands onto his jeans in the process.

Rob bent over to pickup a bicycle helmet that was lying on the floor next to the TV. It had one of those GoPro cameras attached to the top, and a wire was attached to the GoPro, running to the TV. Rob hit a button on the GoPro, pausing the video. Then he tugged the wire out, and the screen went blank.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

"You guys need to give me a real good reason why I shouldn't call the police about this."

All three pairs of eyes widened.

"Please. Please don't do that," Rob said. "I was just filming one of my bike rides, and I wanted to show the guys an interesting part of the route I took. Only I forgot to turn the camera off when I got back, because I had to pee badly. And then I left it all in the bathroom. Really, I didn't mean to film you, Sam. I was getting a change of clothes and was about to take a shower, but you beat me back into the room. I'm really sorry, Sam. We shouldn't have watched it. I should have just deleted it right away."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I wanted to be angry, but the rational, scientific side of my brain listened to Rob's explanation. It seemed reasonable. A mistake. Mistakes happen. But then the emotional side kicked back in with anger.

"Why, if this was a mistake, were you guys jerking off to it?"

For a moment, no-one responded. Mike looked like a deer caught in headlights. Rob lowered his eyes, staring at his feet. Bill looked like he was trying to form a response, but couldn't get his mouth to work.

Finally, he said, "Look, Sam. It was totally a bad choice on our parts. I don't know, I guess we just let ourselves get carried away. We're really sorry. I promise this won't ever happen again."

Mike nodded his head in agreement.

"I'll delete the video right now," said Rob as he began hitting buttons. "Here, you can check that it's gone." He detached the camera from the bike helmet and held it out to me.

Not really being familiar with a GoPro, I didn't know how I was supposed to confirm that the video had been deleted. I held the camera in my hand a moment and then just shook my head and handed it back.

I breathed a heavy sigh, not of relief, but of exhaustion. I was already tired when arriving home, and now my anger was being replaced with a sense of frustration and helplessness. I felt like my inner being had been ripped out of me and tossed away. Tears began welling up in my eyes. I decided I needed to get away from the room, away from the three of them. I needed to be by myself. Turning quickly on my heel, I hurried down the hallway and upstairs to my room. My fingers turned the small lock on the door handle after I closed it, and I collapsed on the bed, letting the tears flow freely.

-

The following morning I slept in as long as I could. Eventually, though, I found myself lying on my back, wide wake, staring up at the ceiling. I was replaying in my head what happened the previous night and thinking about what I should do. What was going to happen? How was I going to get past this?

I didn't want to face the day yet. I could hear the boys moving around downstairs. I didn't want to face them.

But I had to get moving. I had work to do on campus. And, I decided, I needed to find a new place to live. How could I stay here? It was awkward before, but now I just knew I would be embarrassed every time I encountered one of them in the house. And I couldn't just keep myself locked in my room all the time.

The thought of calling the police bounced around my head a few times. The thought was very tempting, but in the end, I rejected it. At least on the surface, I took their claim that the video was accidental at face value. And I knew that involving the police could possibly ruin their lives and quite likely cause myself problems as well.

My strategy, I decided, was to try to move out as quickly as possible, start fresh somewhere else, and put this behind me.

And then my mind drifted back to the image of Mike's cock spurting cum straight up in the air like some sort of fancy fountain. I don't know why it was so mesmerizing. I was quite familiar with the workings of the male genitalia having had several intimate partners during my undergrad days. I was far from inexperienced. For some reason, though, I felt captivated by the image. The ejaculation shooting with such force almost perfectly straight up in the air, then falling back as his cock spasmed again, the flesh expanding, pumping, ejecting another volley of cum almost nearly as high as the first. And then again. And again. My mind had been replaying it over and over all morning.