How I Became my Roommates' Slut

Forty minutes later, standing in the bathroom, I came to a very clear conclusion: I have immense respect for people who shave regularly. Seriously. What a nightmare.

  • Score 9.1 (15 votes)
  • 422 Readers
  • 2550 Words
  • 11 Min Read

I woke up with a slow, spreading warmth low in my stomach.

It was still early: dark outside, the kind of quiet that lingers just before morning really starts. The heat had to be coming from the body curled up against me.

Right.

Adrien.

Tall, solid Adrien, tucked in close. Sometime during the night I’d ended up as the "big" spoon, him pressed back into me, relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before. When I’d come back to my room after turning Greg down, Adrien had already been out cold, lying on his side, looking… almost vulnerable. There was no way I wasn’t going to slide in behind him, wrap an arm around him, and just… stay there.

The guy was a furnace, though. Seriously. I don’t know how his metabolism (is that the correct word?) worked, but he was radiating heat like a space heater. Honestly, I could’ve slept naked in the middle of winter next to him and been fine. Big change from my ex, who always had freezing feet and used me like a human hot water bottle.

Do all guys run this warm?

Either way… it felt good. Skin against skin, someone right there, breathing steadily. Different from a girl, sure. Less soft, more solid. But not any less… comforting. Or sexy.

Sleeping next to a guy every night…

Yeah. I could get used to that.

And, well… there were perks.

Because right about then, I could feel my erection starting to wake up between my thighs. If I stayed pressed against him like that, he was definitely going to notice. And from what I’d seen so far, Adrien seemed more into receiving than seeing my cock or playing with it. I wasn’t even sure he’d want to feel me like that against him.

So I carefully shifted back, creating a bit of space, trying to calm things down.

Think. Think about something else.

Roman history.
Salt taxes. Olive oil tariffs.
Or—right—Sunday. Visiting my parents.

Maybe I should bring a bottle of red wine. Though… my mom didn’t seem as into it lately.

My thoughts drifted aimlessly like that, jumping from one topic to another, until sleep eventually pulled me back under, my hips angled away, keeping things… under control.


Sunlight.

Bright, aggressive sunlight pushing through the blinds.

I squinted, half-asleep, fumbling for my phone on the nightstand.

“9:10?!”

Shit.

Did my alarm not go off?

…Oh.

Right.

I hadn’t set one.

Light day today. I didn’t start until eleven, finished at one. Just a tutorial. And technically I had work to do in the afternoon, but… this was university. You managed your own time. Or didn’t.

My hand rested on the mattress beside me.

Still warm.

Adrien.

He was gone.

I hoped I hadn’t kept him from getting up, that he hadn’t missed anything important. He hadn’t had his phone when he came into my room last night.

Speaking of...

I checked my notifications.

A couple messages. Two from the flat group chat around 7:30.

Julien: “Yo, anyone mind if I stretch a bit with Steph around 8 this morning?”

Right. “Stretch.” Of course.

That's the expression he had proposed to say instead of asking for a blowjob.

I snorted.

Greg had replied fifteen minutes later:

Greg: “Looks like you’ll have to handle it yourself, blue balls.”

Julien had reacted with a middle finger emoji.

I couldn’t help smiling.

Guess the rugby guy was still taking his frustration out on others.

Either way, I had time. And apparently no one was lining up to “use” me this morning.

Perfect moment to finally do something I’d been putting off.

Shave.

Well.

More specifically—

My ass.

And my legs.

Saying it out loud—even just in my head—still felt kind of ridiculous. But the more I thought about Julien’s arguments… the more it made sense.

He did look good. His ass, his legs—everything looked sharper, more defined. And yeah… I’d tasted his shaven balls too. Smooth skin definitely had its advantages.

Maybe Adrien would like it too.

Greg?

…Okay, let’s not go too far.

Still.

Time to commit.


Forty minutes later, standing in the bathroom, I came to a very clear conclusion:

I have immense respect for people who shave regularly.

Seriously.

What a nightmare.

The ass alone? A whole operation. You had to be careful not to nick anything important—which, considering the area (balls and all), was a very real concern. The angles were ridiculous, the positions even worse. One hand holding things apart, the other trying to shave, and somehow still not being able to see what you were doing unless you dragged the mirror onto the floor.

Zero practicality.

And the legs?

Even worse.

You think it’s quick. It’s not. You go over the same spot two, three times, and suddenly realize 'wow, I have way more hair than I thought'. Not thick, not dark, but still. Enough to make this take forever.

And once you start one leg, you have to do the other. Otherwise you look completely unhinged.

By the time I was done, I almost ended up late for my tutorial.

Rushing to get dressed, I could feel the strange contrast of my freshly shaved legs against my jeans: cool, smooth, but also slightly irritated despite the shaving cream. A weird mix of sensations, not entirely pleasant, not entirely bad either.


I was definitely distracted during my history session. .

Something about late Roman taxation systems, supply chains, grain distribution… the professor’s voice droned on in the background while my mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Mostly… back to last night. The cum eruption from Adrien. The way his seed had landed almost everwhere in my bed, on me, on the side wall. Every fucking where.

Focus, Steph. History. Empire. Taxes. Not your roommate’s curved cock.

Yeah. Not working.

My phone buzzed softly against the desk.

I glanced down.

Right:the group chat.

I quickly unlocked it and typed under the table:

House slut: “Sorry Julien, just saw the messages. Overslept 😅”

I hit send, then tried to look like a serious student again, nodding slightly as if I understood anything about provincial revenue systems.

Buzz.

I looked again.

Adrien had reacted.

❤️

I froze for a second.

A stupid, small reaction. Just a heart.

And yet...

Okay why does that feel like a whole declaration?

I couldn’t help the small smile pulling at my lips.

Another buzz.

Jus2lien: “All good kept my load for later”

I nearly choked.

Jesus Christ.

Right there. In the middle of my history class?

A second later:

Big G: “Damn, bro’s stockpiling like it’s winter.”

I had to cough to cover it.

The girl next to me gave me a weird look.

I typed again:

Houe slut: “I’ll be back around 3pm.”

Send.

Barely two seconds later:

Jus2lien: “Perfect. I’m first on stretching today.”

Of course he was.

This guy has priorities.

Another buzz.

BigG: “Hey, leave some for the others.”

I shook my head slightly, trying to stay quiet.

Up front, the professor was now drawing some kind of diagram on the board. Arrows. Boxes. Probably important.

I glanced up.

Then back down.

BigG: “Can you leave some for the others dude? I want it too.”

A pause.

House slut: "Okay."

“—and this is why the redistribution system ultimately failed—”

Right. Class.

My phone kept lighting up every few minutes, pulling me right back out of whatever half-focus I was pretending to have.

Buzz.

I glanced down again.

BigG: “Just ate the hachis. Damn.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Ah yeah, I had left some in the fridge for him and Adrien.

Another message came right after:

BigG: “That was actually really good.”

I couldn’t help the small smile spreading across my face.

“Actually”? I’ll take it.

Then, of course:

Jus2lien: “Guess we got ourselves an official cook now.”

I huffed quietly, shaking my head.

Before I could even answer, another notification popped up.

A picture this time.

Adrien.

I opened it under the table.

A plate—generously filled with hachis parmentier, neatly served, way more presentable than anything I’d imagined. Typical Adrien.

Curvy:

“My colleagues say it smells amazing.”

I didn’t even think.

I reacted with a heart.

Then, after half a second of hesitation, another one on Greg’s message too.

Yeah. He deserved it.

Then Greg again:

BigG: “One of the guys at training almost stole mine.”

Oh no.

BigG: “Dude wanted a bite.”

I grinned already, knowing where this was going.

BigG: “Told him no. More for me.”

Buzz.

Jus2lien: “Protecting leftovers like it’s a national treasure.”

Jus2lien: “Steph, you’ve created a monster.”

I bit my lip, trying not to smile too much like an idiot in the middle of class.

House Slut: “I’m just feeding the troops”

Another heart from Adrien. And then Greg. And then Julien.

All of them.

Okay, yeah.

I'm blushing.


Back at the flat, I barely had time to close the door before I kicked off my shoes.

Empty.

Quiet.

Perfect.

I dropped my bag, pulled off my jeans and...

The sensation hit instantly.

Smooth.

Cold at first, the air brushing against freshly shaved skin, sending a light shiver up my legs. I stood there in my boxers for a second, just… processing.

That's just like my exe's leg, in a way.

I ran a hand down my thigh.

Then the other.

Slowly.

The texture was completely different. No resistance, no roughness, just skin. Clean, almost too sensitive.

There was still that slight irritation underneath, that faint burn from earlier… but it was fading, replaced by something else.

Something… kind of nice.

I did it again, absentmindedly this time, fingertips gliding along my leg.

Yeah… I get it now.

I let out a quiet breath, half amused with myself.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Maybe Julien had a point.”

Didn’t mean I’d ever admit it to him.

But still.

Standing there, alone in the apartment, in just my boxers, running my hands over my own legs like an idiot.

I had to admit.

I kind of liked it.


The door to the apartment creaked open down the hall, and that sharp chlorine scent invaded the air before I even heard footsteps.

Julien, fresh from swim practice, his body still humming with that athletic edge.

4:16 p.m

Shit, he went home early.

I was reading some books, chilling in my boxers, still new to this shaved legs condition.

Knock Knock.

"Yo Steph, you there?"

My heart slammed in my chest; I froze, hand still on my thigh, pulse racing.

What if he walked in?

But then I remembered his comments, pushing me to shave, to train my hole, to be his ready slut. No shame in this: he'd ordered it.

I swallowed hard, calling out:

"Yeah, come in, it's open."

He opened the door quickly, that chemical tang mixing with his natural pine smell invaded my bedroom as he stood there, blue shorts hugging his thick thighs and a tight sleeveless white top that looked so good on him.

His eyes locked on me immediately, that cocky grin spreading as he dropped his bag and hooked his thumbs into his waistband:

"Hey, slut," he said casually, voice low and commanding, like we were picking up mid-conversation. "Told you I'd use you when I got back. Got a fat load saved up just for you."

He shoved the shorts down, kicking them aside, then peeled off his sports boxers in one rough tug. His thick cock sprang free, already half-hard and heavy, swinging between his leg. It was veiny, uncut, the head peeking from the foreskin, right over a nice set of shiny balls hanging low and full beneath.

He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring as he scanned me sprawled on the bed. Then his gaze dropped to my legs, the smooth expanse gleaming under the light, and up to where my ass pressed against the sheets.

"Holy fuck, you actually did it," he growled, his approval dripping from the tone (even saw his big cock twitching right before me), as if he had just oppened the best birthday present ever.

"Shaved those legs clean? What about that ass?"

I nodded, almost feeling proud.

" Shit bro... I mean, bravo, you're my perfect little slut now. Smooth as a bitch."

I had an anxious swallow caught in my throat, but I was ready, my body buzzing with that submissive pull he always ignited.

"On all fours," he commanded, stripping off his top to reveal his ripped swimmer's torso, abs flexing as he climbed onto the bed behind me. "Need to see that pretty shaved ass up close."

I scrambled into position, my knees sinking into the mattress, my ass lifting high as I yanked my boxers down and off, exposing everything for him. When I removed them, I heard Julien whispering something about a thong, but I didn't catch everything.

I could feel the cold air on my cheeks, quickly repladed by Julien's warm breath.

I braced on my elbows, heart pounding, feeling his heat radiate against my back before his hands even touched. Julien's palms landed first: rough from laps in the pool, gripping my ass cheeks firmly, spreading them wide.

"Fuck, look at this," he muttered, voice thick with lust, thumbs digging into the soft, hairless flesh. "Looks so good."

He massaged deep, kneading the muscles, pulling my cheeks apart to stare at the hole winking at him.

"So smooth, so fucking girly."

I felt like a doll. Built to please him.

"My little smooth slut, all prepped and begging."

His breath ghosted over my skin even closer, then his lips pressed in: a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on one cheek, sucking lightly, teeth grazing the freshly shaved sensitivity.

Holy!

I gasped, blushing furiously, the wet smack of his mouth echoing in the room as he switched sides, tongue flicking out to taste the clean skin, lapping a slow stripe up my crack.

He grabbed harder, fingers bruising as he massaged in circles, commenting nonstop.

"These legs... shit, they're perfect now, sliding under my hands like silk. And this ass? Mine to wreck. You did good, kinda need you to keep it like that from now on, slut."

Each word made me flush deeper and my cock was leaking steadily onto the sheets below, I felt so submissive and feminine under his presence. It wasn't a game now, just pure lust for my ass.

His kisses turned rougher, nipping at the curve where thigh met ass, his tongue actually made me moan low and needy I didn't need to fake it. I trembled under him, the domination sinking in, his chlorine-scented body pressing closer, cock slapping against my thigh:hot, heavy, ready to claim me again.

"I want to try going further," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his hands stretching my cheeks open.

"How far?"

"I want to fuck you, Steph."

Well...

I had thought about this. I knew he would want to go that far, eventually.

But I had prepared myself.

I knew what to say at that instant:

"No," I blurted, hole clenching, body tensing. "Not today at least."

Julien paused, hand stilling on my ass as I felt the surprise in his tone:

"No? Why not, slut?" He squeezed my cheek hard, waiting, his cock throbbing against my smooth leg.

"Cause I want Arien to be my first."


If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.


Report
What did you think of this story?
Share Story

In This Story