The Roommate

In college I roomed with a guy named Keller. Keller was a cool guy, always sort of the clown of a group.  He'd joke about how much of a loser he was with the ladies, but it was just self-depricating humor. The girls at college loved him. He always seemed to have a new girl who was never a "girlfreind," but just a "friend." They were never the blonde big-boobed cheerleader types, but the almost always the girls who has a very natural, simple beauty to them, almost granola, but maybe more small town girl, with great figures hidden under outdoor backpacking clothes, long strait brown hair, brown eyes, and maybe soft freckles. Basically, girls I was totally jealous of him getting. The ones that got good grades, could hold down a conversation, could hang out and have beers at barbecues, and the ones that seemed to scream loudest and get the most into having sex.

Keller had this one girl that was perhaps the best he'd ever found. She was tall, almost as tall as him at probably 5'10". She wore jackets and sweaters in the winter, but when she'd be at our place and wearing a long underwear shirt at the breakfast table over coffee, I could clearly see the outline of her beautifully-shaped breasts and nipples pinching in the morning cold.

At nights, I could hear the bed springs creak and her moaning and knew that lucky bastard Keller was experiencing something he may never get again, and I may never get at all. I had such a crush on that girl. So I can't really excuse what I did. But I did it anyway. One night, when I heard the slapping of the headboard and the bounce of bedsprings and her huffing and moaning, I "accidentally" walked in on them.

She was on her knees, and Keller was ponding her from behind. He said something like "hey dude," but didn't stop. She looked up, half with panic, and half still in the mood of being fucked silly. Keller didn't even seem to care as a mumbled my "apologies" for interrupting. 

It was almost surreal. Time seemed to slow down. I felt like I was standing there, frozen, for a good minute. Keller pounded away, and she looked at me, while still getting fucked, the look in her eyes saying, go away, but her brain being so swirling in the act of sex that her body, too, seemed frozen and unable to change position or her mouth about to form words. It was like time was passing and I was watching her get fucked and she was acknowledging that I was seeing this, but neither of us could do anything about it. 

Then I shut the door and left them to finish. The image of her long body on her hands and knees and her beautiful breasts hanging down, jiggling as Keller drove into her, made a permanent image in my mind. 

The next day Keller didn't care at all. She seemed annoyed, but didn't say anything. After a few weeks, she and Keller weren't seeing each other, and he'd moved on to another plain, but attractive girl. I never walked in on him again.