Desire in Room 403

What I'm about to share remains my closely guarded secret. It all happened a couple of years ago. It was my first year out of high school, my first year at college. I was financially strained, balancing a work-study job with six or seven hours of classes each day before returning to the small apartment I shared with three roommates.

The house situation wasn’t perfect. My dad had expressed strong reservations when I had told him what I had planned. It was far from home, my family was super conservative, religious and their little girl was wandering halfway across the country on her own for the first time.

“Sophie, really? A house with 3 guys, all strangers? What are you thinking?” He and mom had both called me multiple times. They had done everything just short of begging me not to sign the lease.

Yet the house exceeded my expectations. It had been built in 1920’s a monster with four big bedrooms, three and half baths. The home boasted intricate woodwork, gleaming hardwood floors, and abundant natural light. We all had our own room, every door had a lock, and the place was quiet and clean.

They may have protested when I signed the lease, but at graduation, when they had flown out to see me, they warmed up to each of my roommates upon meeting them.

But I understood the worry. By general standards, I was attractive and athletic. I ran track and field in high school and then played volleyball my senior year. Looking back, I mean, I understand, moving into a house with three guys when you are a week past 18 – doesn’t seem like the best idea.

For the first week or two, the four of us moved around each other carefully. Dante and Travis were the only two with a prior acquaintance. They were the two I saw the most of, because our class schedules lined up Monday through Friday.

The second day, they ceded the bathroom closest to my bedroom. They graciously designated that bathroom as mine and doubled up in the other one that was wasn’t the master bathroom – which belonged to the oldest in the house, John, a teacher’s assistant in grad school who had been divorced for two years.

I didn’t even meet John until like the third week in the house. His unconventional schedule made him an elusive, he was usually gone before us, back at some point during the day when no one else seemed to be around, and then gone until late in the evening. For those first few weeks, it had been like living with a ghost. Every day, subtle shifts in the household signaled John's ghost-like presence. Chairs would be pulled out, there would be a couple dishes in the sink, or mail on the calendar.

The anonymity lent a unique charm to our living arrangement. We were like people at a hotel for those weeks. Our interactions were mostly confined to fleeting glances in the kitchen or brief exchanges in the hallway.

We each retreated behind our securely locked bedroom doors.

And maybe we did. At the beginning, leaving home at 18 and wandering to a new city where I knew absolutely no one, left me crazy lonely. It also didn’t help that getting out from under my religious parents – amped up my sexual energy.

My second week in the house, I gave up on my vibrator and picked up a soccer player who had been hanging out in the student center. I brought him home, fucked his brains out, and then he found an excuse to leave.

For about a day, it stunned me. I found myself grappling with the unfamiliar landscape of casual encounters. It had been my first one-night stand, and I hadn’t even realized it

Following my experience with the soccer player—Tom, was it? I took home an older guy whom I had struck up a conversation with on a late-night bus ride. It was like leaving home had made me horny all the time and the one-night stands gave me the opportunity to blow off steam without getting distracted.

It worked, and I liked it.

But as usual, uncertainty clouded my mind. The roommates had never crossed a line, but did they discuss amongst themselves about our encounters? I was lost in my thoughts one evening when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my mother. "Your father and I are worried. We haven't heard from you in days. Are you okay?"

Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave, overwhelming me for a moment. My family, staunchly conservative and deeply religious, had no inkling of the life I was leading. They had sent me off to college with blessings and reminders of the values they had instilled in me: purity until marriage, modesty, and devotion to faith. I could almost hear my mother's voice, preaching about the sanctity of the body as a temple, and the ache inside me deepened. It was a stark contrast to my present, where a string of tantalizing texts from Dante popped up on my phone, each message hinting at another late-night rendezvous, another chapter in my secret life.

That's when it struck me—what was I really doing? I felt torn between two worlds, each with its own form of judgment and liberation. There was a moral complexity to my newfound freedom. Was I empowered or was I drifting aimlessly into a sea of emotional detachment? What was I looking for?

My fingers hovered over the screen, torn between responding to my mother or to Dante. I felt a growing realization that as much as I was in control, I was also at the mercy of my choices. For the first time, I wondered what it meant to cross so many boundaries.

I locked my phone, leaving both unanswered, and took a long shower. The hot water didn't wash away my uncertainties. Instead, it made me realize that living on the edge had its thrills but also its own set of risks.

It wasn’t until the end of the third week, that all four of us ended up at home on a Thursday night – all at the same time. That was the night I really met John.

It just sorts of all came together. I had come home and found Dante and John sitting on the couch talking about sports. Dante had introduced me to the grad student that I had been thinking of like the house’s personal ghost and we had talked for a while.

He was tall, in his late twenties or early thirties. Older than me by at least ten years. He had these little round glasses that made him look like a smart supermodel, you know, tall, the perfect hair, the chin, the body, and then you put glasses on him and he could solve world peace – or you wish he would.

Over the course of a takeout meal and half of a forgettable movie I discovered that he could scratch my “older guy” itch. The movie had ended, and everyone had wandered off to their own rooms. But that night, I had wandered from my room over to Johns and relieved some stress, you know, therapeutically.

John had made it effortlessly formal, a fact that left me wondering. The moment the last drop of his orgasm had fallen onto my back, he had gotten up, tossed me a towel, and told me good night.

The perfect fuck buddies.

Naturally, over the course of the semester, other opportunities arose. On a Sunday night when John hadn’t come home, and my vibrator just couldn’t quite get me where I had wanted to go, I had wandered over to Dante’s room, gently tapped on the door, and after dropping my bathrobe to my ankles, received similar treatment.

Then a stray Friday night, after I had been out with a couple of girlfriends, I had found Travis in the kitchen with his shirt off, getting a glass of water. It turned out his girlfriend had had the flu and he had just gotten back from an extra workout. His muscles had been swollen; his body covered in a sheen of glistening sweat.

And I had been a little drunk, perhaps a lot, wrestling with the newfound freedom that left me both liberated and confused.

I told no one about anyone. It was an unspoken thing. I never mentioned it any of them and they apparently hadn’t talked about it either.

This intricate web of liaisons remained my closely-guarded secret.

The night that shifted everything came near the end of my first semester. The scent of rain mingled with fallen leaves in the air, signaling that winter was imminent. It had been a Saturday and the guys had been watching football all day.

While I had alternated between studying and playing around on the internet in my room, I had also been keeping up with the day drinking just with wine rather than the cold beers the boys had. That night, with all of us pretty toasted, we had ordered a pizza and sat around laughing and telling stories.

Dante had been sitting on the arm of the couch, John had just said something about one of the cheerleaders. “As hot as Sophie,” Dante had smiled,

Then John had chimed in. “Bet she fucks like her too.”

I had been mid bite with a massive slice of pizza folded and sticking out of my face. My heart had stopped for at least three beats. At that moment, all eyes flickered towards John, and the room's energy palpably shifted.

“I bet you’re right, probably likes it doggie like Sophie.” Travis had smiled.

“Everyone enjoys a slut," Dante said, chuckling.

But then, every eye swiveled towards me, as if I were a specimen under a microscope. What I was going to do next. Cry? Apologize? Laugh? But I merely sat there, meeting their gazes with a serenity that belied my inner turmoil.

Slut.

The word brimmed with a mix of shame and liberation, echoing in my mind like a challenge. It was packed with potential energy.

In the days that followed, an unspoken alteration occurred in the dynamics of our house.

I came down stairs one morning and decided to get coffee before I wandered off to the shower; so, I was padding around the house in my underwear and a long t-shirt, you know, I wasn’t indecent, but I also wasn’t dressed.

While I poured coffee into a cup, Dante came up behind me and pressed his body against mine which sandwiched me between him and the counter. His hands wrapped around me and grabbed both breasts through my shirt. “Morning, sunshine.” He kissed the top of my head.

It took my breath away. I leaned back into his sculpted frame, his hands skillfully kneading my breasts. Instant arousal flooded through me.

I spun in his arms and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

“Feel like making it a morning to remember?” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I would, but I have to get to class,” He pressed a lingering kiss on my lips, gave my behind a playful pinch, and dashed off to class.

I relished the attention. The thrill of the attention was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the way things had been. For months, I'd been in the shadows, camouflaged as everyone's kid sister, a platonic fixture in the lives of those around me. But now? Now I was the epicenter, the core of desire, the focal point of fantasies and I reveled in it.

It felt like the shackles had been lifted, the drab cocoon shattered, and I had emerged as someone new. Someone more daring, more captivating. For months I had been like background music, a filler in the lull of conversations, the tagalong in weekend plans. I was the one you confided in but never really saw, the go-to for advice about other women, but never the woman you actually wanted. It was the kind of invisibility you don't realize you're enduring until it's suddenly lifted, and you can breathe fully, taste the air, and savor the richness of being seen, truly seen.

The change was as abrupt as it was welcome. It's as if one moment, I was wrapped in an opaque film, my essence muted and my form undefined. And the next, I had burst forth in high-definition, impossible to ignore, a to be reckoned with.

I no longer felt like an afterthought or a side character in my own life. This was a new chapter, and in it, I was the protagonist, painted in bold strokes, in shades of complexity and allure. It wasn't just about being desired; it was about being acknowledged, celebrated even, for the multidimensional woman I had always been but was never recognized as. And I savored every single, electric moment of it.

Dante hadn’t been gone ten minutes when John walked into the kitchen, looked at me sitting on the counter drinking coffee and swinging my legs and grinned. “Can I fuck you, real quick?”

I looked him over. Of the three, he might not have been my favorite, but I did love the way he fucked me. He hadn’t ever been gentle, he'd been thorough—always the gentleman, he had always made sure that I had cum before he did.

It was so strange to suddenly just be, out in the open about all of this. But I said yes, I mean, I was still flushed from Dante's lingering kiss and the way he had grabbed me. I was about to set my coffee cup down and walk to his room, but he stepped over to where I was sitting.

I looked around. I was embarrassed, I mean, what if Travis came in? But then it was also kind of sexy. What if he did walk in, what would happen then?

John stepped up to the counter, reached between my legs, and pulled my underwear to one side.

“Not here,” I gave into my fear.

“Quiet now, you know you want this.” Then he took out his dick out of his boxers, pulled me to the edge of the counter, and his cock into me with one thrust.

I know Travis heard me cry out and then moan. Fuck, I’m pretty sure the neighbor heard. But John was singularly focused. With a hand planted on the small of my back so I couldn’t slide back, and my legs curled around his waist, he hammered my pussy like there was no tomorrow.

Our previous trysts had always been efficient, but now there was a raw, unfettered energy between us. He didn’t ask me if I had cum, that part of our friendship was gone. Now I was his, a tool to please him.

He kept on rough fucking me for like ten minutes. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, his thick cock banging away at my pussy, slamming his pelvic bone into my clit. He slapped my rear, each slap reverberating like a lewd symphony, as he called me degrading names before he dumped his cum into my pussy without warning.

As soon as the last shiver subsided, he withdrew, then gently spread me open with his fingers so he could watch his cum drool out of me. He grinned. “I should make you lick it up.” He said and stuffed his slowly shrinking cock back into his boxers.

Travis rounded the corner, catching our eye, a hint of his yet-to-be-revealed desires flickering in his gaze. His eyes wandered over me; the neck of the over-sized t-shirt was pulled over the breast John had been nibbling on. Then he saw the milky puddle of white between my legs.

A torrent of emotions engulfed me in that raw, exposed moment. First came humiliation, a scalding tide that washed over my entire being, leaving me feeling like an open book with its most intimate pages torn out for all to see. The sensation was overpowering, as if my vulnerabilities had been stripped bare for the world's judgment.

Embarrassment followed, close on the heels of humiliation. It was a biting, self-conscious feeling that made me want to disappear, to morph into something smaller, less noticeable. I was keenly aware of every eye on me, every judgment rendered, and the weight of it all felt almost unbearable.

But then, just as swiftly, came a rush of something else—something powerful and electrifying. It was an unadulterated sense of sexiness, a raw allure that I had never felt so profoundly. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my humiliation and embarrassment, I felt invincible, irresistible, as if I'd tapped into a primal energy source that had been dormant within me.

This newfound sexiness was like an intoxicating elixir, erasing my earlier self-doubt and replacing it with a voracious appetite. For the first time, the sheer power of my own sexuality dawned on me.

After that day, the sexual encounters were daily. All three of them considered me their sex toy. They no longer needed to please me, instead I was there for them whenever they wanted and however, they wanted.

And I reveled in every taboo second, every stolen moment of pleasure.

All day I sat in class and thought about the next orgasm. Who was it going to be from? How and how much longer was I going to have to wait?

As the weeks rolled on, passing through the holidays of Christmas and New Year’s, our intimacy deepened and our knowledge of one another expanded.

The boys were respectful of each other’s time. I was never faced with more than one of them at a time, but there were two or three times that I took all three of them in a single day.

***

Sex with each one of them changed. They each had their own secret kinks that they suddenly felt they could experience. After all, I was their willing slut. I complied with every wish without complaint.

Because being a part of their secret was my kink. Knowing them in ways I wondered if anyone ever would again was such a turn on. I mean, one night after John had thoroughly and completely fucked me, he pulled a large purple dildo out of his dresser drawer. It was the kind that had a hard curve that slipped inside me and then a life-sized cock that pointed out like I had a dick.

“Now I want you to fuck me,” he got down on his hands and knees and spread his thighs.

I examined the purple dildo before me, letting my fingers glide along its smooth, almost velvety, plastic surface. The bulb at the end was fat and long, something a pussy could squeeze down on to hold in place.

Dante’s kink was the most interesting. One night while we were fucking, he had me up against the wall and said he wanted to tie me up. I remember thinking: I wonder how that’ll feel? Three days later, while Travis was in class and John was at work, he took me down in the basement and showed me the knots he knew.

In half an hour, I was suspended from the ceiling in the basement, literally hanging from the rafters in a position that had my arms behind me and my legs tilted back. Dante meticulously adjusted the ropes so that my head and posterior were aligned perfectly for his intimate touch. And once he was sure everything was in place, he stepped up to me, grabbed the back of my head and told me to open my mouth.

Over the span of thirty minutes, he explored each of my erogenous zones, climaxing three separate times. I lost track of how many times I orgasmed. I had cum three times before he finished tying the knots.

Travis wasn't into kinks, but his versatility was an attraction in itself. What he liked was try all kinds of things. I wore a butt plug for him and then a tail when we were alone. He tied me to the bed a few times and made me cum multiple times before he would fuck me. He blindfolded me and then I blindfolded him. We played with nipple clamps and candle wax, cock rings and all sorts of dildo’s and vibrators.

My favorite thing with Travis was the fact he liked to watch. That he liked to talk dirty while we fucked. I loved the way his words made me feel. There was something about being his dirty little whore, the fuck toy that would do anything without question to please him.

Travis, more than anyone else, made being a slut feel sexy, powerful. It gave my overwhelming sex drive a task. The thrill of humiliation flooded my senses, elevating my arousal to new heights.

The house became a place where I could let everything go. I walked through the front door and I belonged to them, to their desires. All three of them, but Travis brought something truly special out of me, he found my fetish, my kink.

I loved to talk dirty while we fucked. He would push his cock down my throat until I couldn’t breathe, leave it there until I began to struggle, and then ask me to tell him what I was feeling once he pulled out and I was gasping for air.

“Tell me why you love my cock so much.”

I would pull the long strings of pre and saliva from the end of his dick and greedily lick into my mouth again. “It’s so big, it feels so good.” I would look up at him. “Fill my belly with your cum.”

“I want it to spray out your nose.” He would feed me his length.

This was a seductive form of torment.

Buried in my ass and pumping with all his might he would lean down to my ear. “Oh, my little cum dumpster. I’m going to drain my balls in your ass.”

Being his slut, being his to play with, always made me so hot. And his cum tasted the best.

By spring, when the bushes near our mailbox began to put out little neon green leaves, I had completely become theirs to use. I was their slut. body and mind. And it worked so well, we didn’t even think about it.

When I wasn’t in class, one of the boys, at the very least, had me doing something lewd – cleaning the house naked, pumping my breasts with the breast pump James had gotten for me to fill bottles with breast milk and put in the fridge. Or just sitting in the living room chair with my favorite dildo. “Pleasing yourself until someone else decides they need you to please them.” As Travis had put it one day.”

I took a week a month for myself, the week of my period. That week, the boys sent me to the spa every day after work. Dinner was at whatever restaurant I wanted. They treated me like a queen.

But the rest of the time, I was theirs to use whenever they wanted. Sex with any one of them became as common and routine as having lunch or drinking a glass of water.

Until one Friday night, I was browsing the internet when John came to my room. He looked serious, more serious than usual.

“Hey, what’s up?” I rolled over in bed. I was wearing a black lace thong and a t-shirt that barely covered my tits. It was their favorite thing for me to wear around the house.

I had been home from classes for two hours with John and Travis home, and no one had asked me to do anything…yet.

John’s eyes wandered over me and he grinned. “How about you get that sexy little ass of yours in the living room?”

I jumped up out of bed. My barely covered breasts bouncing as I slipped free of the tiny shirt. I laughed when I saw John staring as I pulled the shirt down again. “Do I need to grab some lube?” I pulled out the nightstand draw and grabbed his favorite, red bottle.

“And the other one too.” He nodded toward the green bottle. The lube Travis liked to use when he wanted anal.

I looked at him and then at the bottle. Since I had decided to be the boy’s slut, they had always used me, one at a time. It had never been a thought or a conversation. I was first-come, first-served.

Although, I could be reserved for special occasions. Birthdays and the like. John had created that rule when it was his birthday and he wanted me all to himself.

I picked up the other bottle and walked out into the living room.

As I walked down the hall, I saw Travis sitting on the couch, facing the television. Beside him was a woman with blonde hair. I froze.

John leaned down. “What’s the matter?” He whispered. “She can’t wait to meet a real slut.”

I looked into his eyes and could see the excitement. It was like he was proud of me. That’s when I understood what had happened over the past months, my transformation from little, midwestern eighteen-year-old to a well-seasoned slut.

Pulling down my little shirt, I stepped out into the living room. “Well, hello.” I leaned over the back of the couch on the side opposite the young woman, and kissed Travis on the mouth. I may have been a slut, but I was his slut.

The girl next to him smiled when she saw me. “Oh, she is pretty,” she looked me over and I noticed she stopped on my cleavage. She liked my tits.

Travis chuckled. “I told you.” He reached up and gave me a slap on the ass before he pulled me into his lap.

“Hey baby,” I laughed as he cuddled me in his arm, “who’s this?” Now it was my turn to do the appraisal.

She was the exact kind of woman I imagined Travis looking for. She was about his height and well put together. She had a Gucci shirt and a Baldwin shorts. She was stylish with large breasts and a trim waist.

Her heritage had to be Spanish because her hair was black, but she had that beautiful permanent tan and thick lips. I imagined Travis loved to look down and see her dick sucking lips wrapped around his shaft.

“Sophie, this is Sarah.”

Sarah offered her hand, but instead, I climbed from Travis’ lap to hers and then kissed her luscious, tempting lips.

Sarah’s body became putty in my hands. I kissed her and then slipped my tongue between her lips.

I heard John chuckle, he had taken a chair on the other side of the room, facing the couch, where he sat watching us like a show.

I was their slut, but they had brought me a gift, a woman to play with.

Travis and I took turns taking Sarah’s clothes off. I unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, and exposed her bra and gorgeous breasts. Travis and I took turns kissing her skin and massaging her before moving to the next article of clothing.

She didn’t know what to do. At first she tried to kiss and fondle us like we were doing to her, but she couldn’t keep up, there was two much for one person and so she laid back.

It was so intense, pleasing her with Travis. Both of us moving around her body, kissing and sucking, squeezing and pinching. He was at her nipple while my fingers played between her legs.

She laid still, her breathing ragged, her body trembling under our touch.

John pulled his cock out of his pants and slowly stroked himself.

I slipped to the floor and slowly spread Sarah’s thighs. My pussy was drenched, and I slowly swayed my hips until I heard John get up from the chair.

“No way I can’t take advantage of that,” he chuckled as he got down on his knees, pulled my panties aside and shoved a finger in my asshole.

I moaned as I kissed my way toward Sarah’s little mound. I could smell her sex. See the wrinkled petals of her pussy lips.

John spit on his finger and began to spread my asshole open. “Come on, baby.” John sat up on his knees and pressed his fat cockhead against my puckered asshole.

I pushed and felt him begin to work his way in.

Sarah looked at Travis in awe.

Travis sat up and kissed her passionately while I buried my tongue into Sarah’s wet snatch.

John grabbed my hips once he was halfway inside my ass and pulled me upward. He slid his hands between my legs and started playing with my pussy. I came immediately, and he slipped a finger inside me from the front while his cock banged into my asshole.

“Tight little asshole,” he groaned. “Look how wet you are.”

“Wet?” I heard Dante’s voice. “Let me help with that.”

I felt hands on the front of my thighs and then I felt Dante’s hot mouth move across my clit. He had climbed between John’s legs and then mine, on his back, to lick my drenched pussy.

My hips ground my hardened little clit against his eager tongue.

It was too much for John. I felt his cock throb inside of me and then his fingers dug into my hips.

I pressed back and took all of him.

Sarah moaned, and her thighs tightened around my head.

“Oh fuck, Sophie!” John exclaimed as his cock pumped me ass hole full of cream.

I trembled. “Dante, oh…fuck.”

His tongue sucked my clit between his teeth and the orgasm exploded behind my eyes.

I heard Dante moan and his breath caught.

Then I realized Travis wasn’t up on the couch anymore. He had Dante’s cock in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down.

John pulled out and stumbled over to the couch where he collapsed next to Sarah. “Hi,” he smiled. “Super nice to meet you.”

Sarah didn’t say a word, she simply bent over and pulled John’s shining cock into her mouth.

For the next two years, the four of us were roommates. I moved out after graduation along with Dante and Travis. John stayed behind, excited to see if he could teach a new slut. And that is my secret. I was slut for four years to three roommates and their various partners. I never told anyone, not even my current husband – and now you.