Goonette Roommate

### (she didn’t)

I thought I’d make a point.

It was spite. Pure spite. Michelle was on the floor again, legs spread, porn on three screens. She winked at me as I passed by, fingers deep inside herself, moaning without a care in the world.

I had a few days off. No work. No plans. No classes. My friends weren’t answering anymore. They were sick of hearing about the “perfect naked roommate.” It had never been the same when they walked in on Michelle. No one took me seriously anymore. If I was still living with her, clearly it wasn’t a problem. That’s the thing. It was. But she was literally perfect if you took away the porn.

I have not lifted a finger to do any chores for months now. She literally does everything. My only price to pay (it seems) is to live in porn with her. I could transition into far worse situations; that’s how I reasoned it in my mind. But I still couldn’t shake it off.

So, that day, I snapped.

“Fine,” I said aloud. “Fine. Let’s see how dumb this actually is. You can’t possibly get this much pleasure by masturbating to porn every day!”

I stripped slowly, deliberately. She barely looked up. I sat beside her. I mimicked her movements, one eye on the flickering screen. I moaned a little, mockingly. She smiled. But it was not any ordinary smile. It felt like a knowing. But I kept going.

“Now you’re getting it,” she purred.

“I’m making a point,” I said, hand moving with a jerky parody of hers.

But...

I didn’t stop.

At some point, the mockery blurred. The screen was so close, so bright, so loud. The room felt heavy with heat and slick, endless wet rhythm.

I felt it.

I hated that I felt it. I felt my pussy slowly but surely betray me. I guess it was my fault for neglecting my sexual needs while my roommate had an orgy in her mind everyday. I was so pent up. I really didn’t focus on dating because all I could think about was my naked roommate rubbing her life away.

It was just porn. Just actors. Just a screen. Nothing real. No one’s actually there. It’s not connection, it’s static. It’s supposed to be garnish, a spice. Not the meal. Not the feast.

And yet...

Something shifted.

I didn’t stop touching myself. Tonight ... my body continued to betray me. I would feel my mind fade as a deep arousal grew from within. I couldn’t stop. I liked this.

Michelle reached over and held my wrist, guiding the rhythm. She slowed my movements like hers as if silently telling me to savor this feeling. My hand continued to disobey every command to stop touching. Instead, my hand just followed Michelle’s rhythm. And it felt amazing. I was masturbating and watching porn while naked ... in front of my roommate. What has she done to me? In that moment, that question faded as I tried not to think about this. It just felt too good to stop.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. I didn’t stop. Deep down, I didn’t want to.

Eventually, I snapped out of it. My legs obeyed me. I ran to my room naked. Leaving all of my clothing on the floor, I slammed the door and buried my face in the pillow.

This isn’t happening. I’m not like her. I’m normal. I don’t want this. I was making a point. Porn shouldn’t feel like sex; Masturbating shouldn’t replace sex.

I’m in control.

Aren’t I?

--We will now shift the narrative to Michelle--