Naive And Erotic Roommates

ALL CHARACTERS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OLDER.

This was it, this was the big day. You’re finally leaving the nest.

Checking your old bedroom mirror one last time you have a moment to take in your appearance, your name is Arthur Allan and wow, You truly are Mr average. standing 6ft tall with a slim healthy build, dark brown hair and eyes.

Your one great source of pride however is what’s currently trying to bore a hole through your boxers, a nice and girthy 6 inch cock set above a pair of heavy thick testicles. Perhaps still somewhat average, but your boy is more than meets the eyes. For as long as you can remember you have always had the stamina of a bull, taking ages to cum and have blown gigantic loads. much to the chagrin of your younger self, Now however, in your adult perversion you revel in it.

Thinking briefly of beating out one last load in your room for old times sake, you decide against it “plenty of time for that when i get to my new home”

Ah yes, privacy and independence.

Well, kinda.

A few weeks ago you had been browsing rental listings in your city, discouraged at all the ghetto hovels you were finding in your price range, when it had sunk in that you’d need a roommate.

Changing the parameters of your search a listing had immediately caught your eye.

It was for a room share in a two story, three bedroom house, fully furnished, for 700$ a month all inclusive. But surely this had to be some sort of joke right? It was in the richest part of town! Pennystone Lane was hot real estate, filled to the brim with rich Hollywood types attracted to its charming architecture, lush greenery and exclusive nature.

There just had to be a catch right?

Now, you can’t lie to yourself, the thought of living in such an area at such a low cost may have swayed your decision slightly, but no helping that now. you were set to move in today, never even having set foot in the place, or knowing who your roommate will be, everything was organized through email correspondence with the landlord, an aloof, mysterious figure whom was difficult to contact and is apparently living out of state.

Slipping into your least threadbare jeans and a longsleeve crewneck you grab the last bit of luggage yet to be carried to your car, a heavily scratched up and well loved guitar case, and practically sprint through your old home and out the front door.

Making for your car, a good ol’ efficient and reliable Toyonda, you say goodbye to your emotional and slightly relieved parents once more, putting your guitar In the back, and begin to make the drive to your new life.