Goonette Roommate Part 4
Fragmented Reality
She accepts Michelle is perfect. But what is she?
I didn't get dressed. I just didn’t want to put clothes on for some reason.
I was doing this solely out of spite, but something unexpected happened. I hate to admit that I'm still wet between my legs right now. Why is my pussy is still throbbing with arousal? There was no man in the room. There was no penis. Nothing that my upbringing told me I should respond to sexually. It was just a naked woman on the couch masturbating to a screen.
My face burned with shame once I started getting aroused. I was trying to mock her, not get horny. Michelle sat beside me, still slowly working herself, her eyes barely open, lost in that haze. Her hand was just drawing slow circles around her clit. Why do I remember that so well?
And I was just sitting there. With another woman. Not even a hot man. Just two women and a TV full of pixelated bodies grinding, thrusting, moaning like animals. That is not the recipe for sexual arousal. But it happened to me. I still can’t believe it.
It wasn't even sexy. That's what I told myself.
It was ugly. Rough. Violent. Raw. That's what I told myself. But I still remember the scene.
It was a lesbian scene. All black porn. One woman was wearing a strap-on and she was fucking another woman out on their hotel balcony. The one with the strap-on had her hand around the other woman’s neck. They were really getting into it. I had never seen anything like that before. Do people really get pleasure from this?
But I couldn't look away. How could this be arousing? How did this pull her in so deep?
My body was betraying me. I didn't want to become like her. I had to stop this.
So I ran to my room.
I got into bed. Naked.
I can’t hide from porn in this house. But I still kept trying.
For the first time in my life, I almost fell asleep without pajamas. The sheets felt cold on my skin, but my body was still hot. Still wet. Still buzzing with something I didn't want to name. It was just a short nap though.
In the living room, the moans continued. I could hear her and the TV. My mind was racing. My pussy was still betraying me. I’m so glad I’m off work tomorrow. This is the first sleepless night I have had in a long time. Usually I can tune out the porn and drift off to sleep. But I know tonight is different. So just laid there in the dark trying to calm my thoughts. But I could hear everything in the living room.
She had a new toy. I saw it earlier. It was a dildo, much larger than the other ones she has. She keeps them out all the time now. She even has a tentacle one. She also has a charging station for her vibrators. It’s the first thing you see when you walk into her room.
I could tell by her moans she was using the new dildo. I could hear “Oh my god, so big,” which is a rare thing to hear from her. She says a lot of things.. but I can tell when something new is happening. Eventually, her moans echoed off the walls. Was she trying to fit that thing all the way inside of her? It was almost as big as my arm. I haven’t seen a penis that big in real life? What’s the appeal?
I’m really surprised our neighbors don’t complain. It’s like I’m living in a world where porn is not a problem. There was no attempt at quietness. Is she trying to gaslight me? Is everyone in on it?
I'm still wet. My pussy is still throbbing. That’s the main reason why I can’t stay asleep.
I could tell she was going to be an all-nighter tonight. I know things about her that I shouldn't know. I have this permanent intrusive thought that's in my mind constantly now. I always see her naked and masturbating. No matter what I do, I know she's probably touching herself and I can see it clear as day.
God, she's a goddess, but I am straight. But I can't stop thinking about her beautiful caramel skin though. It's gotten to the point where it feels natural for me to want to touch myself while thinking about her.
I don't masturbate. In fact, I refuse to. There's something about having a man take care of my needs that really appeals to me. To be honest, masturbation isn't really my thing. But the thought of being with someone, only to have them leave because of my roommate is incredibly frustrating. But I don’t want to move. Besides, I really can’t afford to. I’m finally saving money thanks to this arrangement.
I guess the price to pay is porn. She really is perfect minus the porn. And I hate to admit, I often find myself thinking about her anyway. She’s always naked and masturbating. But I’m straight. I know I am.. right?
She could get any man she wants; she's prettier than me. But here she is, blasting porn and making our whole apartment smell like pussy. She does light incense and candles though when she take breaks. That is considerate of her.
I can't do anything to stop or change her. I know she’s addicted. But still, there are other ways we connect that make up for this difference in interests. She doesn’t bully or judge me. She didn’t alienate me like my ‘friends’ did. On the rare occasion she’s just naked and not touching herself, our conversations are engaging and sometimes she makes me smile. That’s why I wanted her to be my roommate off campus anyway. She’s super nice. I do treasure those moments. Minus the nakedness, it’s almost normal.
So I guess I am making the choice to stay. Yes, sometimes I desire for more from our friendship than just sharing a living space. I do crave more interactions when she’s not actively.. gooning.. But at the same time, she literally takes care of everything. All I have to do is pay rent and live in her porn world. Maybe that's ok.
I think maybe my subconscious is trying to cope with something else going on within me. After that embarrassing attempt to shame her, my thoughts about porn are starting to feel good instead of repulsive. Seeing her so happy with what brings out such intense reactions in me makes me question if it's worth fighting these urges anymore. After all, it's just porn at the end of the day. But then again... I can't stop thinking about how wet I am right now.
I can hear her edging again. Her moans are getting louder. Her breathing is heavy. The sounds of porn endlessly loop through the TV. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out.
But I couldn't.
I could still hear everything.
I couldn't sleep so I decided to take a shower. I took the longest shower of my life that night.
The hot water beat down on me like it was trying to cleanse myself of something invisible, something shameful. I kept scrubbing even after I was clean. My skin felt raw. My thoughts were worse.
I knew porn was still playing in the living room. Loud. Relentless. I could almost hear it in the shower. Just barely.
I peeked out once, towel wrapped tight. Michelle was passed out, sprawled on the couch, a mess. Her legs were wide open. The dildo—still buried inside her. Her hand resting limply on her thigh, twitching. Her face slack and glowing. Her thighs had a sheen from her lube and arousal. I don't even think she has orgasms anymore. I read about that, now gooners just savor marathon edging. It's so bizarre. To my dismay, I started getting wet again just looking at her.
How the hell does that fake piece of silicone feel better than a real man? She fit that thing all the way inside of her. It was so huge… way bigger than her other toys.
I couldn’t answer that. I didn’t want to.
I went back to my room. I was still naked. What was the point anymore? I hadn’t worn clothes for hours. It felt stupid now, trying to maintain some illusion of normal. In fact every attempt to be 'normal' in her world just dies right there on the spot. She's immune to normal now. Maybe I don't want to be normal anymore either. She is my only friend I have left really. Maybe my old ‘friends’ were right. Maybe I am secretly ok with this.
I will admit I was the tag-along in their circle though. They had rich parents and it showed. They always looked down on everyone and one time they even said some racist things.. maybe that why I chose this life instead of them. In the beginning, they did ask if I wanted to room with one of them… They didn’t understand why I wanted to room with Michelle. This was before the whole porn thing started.
The real reason why I chose Michelle was that she never said mean things to me or judged me. Before I knew her true nature, she was quiet and reclusive. Still beautiful. But still very kind. I never had one argument with her in the dorms. Not once.
Fast forward to now, she’s basically the same. Sort of. She’s just a naked porn addict now... but she’s a good person. And she’s my roommate. And I did choose her over them. I know I am living with someone that appears to be less than human, but she is more alive than I have ever been.
Michelle’s world was constant stimulation, almost permanent nakedness, constant satisfaction..and somehow… balance. She still cooked. Still paid rent. Still folded my laundry... all the time while watching porn or doing something sexual.. like wearing her clit sucker toy and air humping. This was her baseline normal. All I have to do is pay rent.
She's perfect...minus the porn. Maybe I'll get used to it. Maybe Porn really isn't the problem.
I hadn’t had a boyfriend in over a year. I was broke. Trapped. I couldn’t afford to break the lease and live alone. So I choose to live with a naked masturbating roommate who lives in porn. But I know she’s still a good person.
I stared at the ceiling and thought: ‘if she weren’t so obsessed with porn… she’d be perfect. Just wear clothes. Just be ‘normal’. Just be like me.’
But I was miserable.
And she… she was radiant. Drenched in it. Owned by Porn. Overtly addicted. Unapologetic.
I curled up on my bed and cried.
Not because of her. Not because of the situation I was in.
Because I didn’t know what I was anymore.
I slowly drifted off to sleep. My race thoughts could not keep my body humming any minute longer. Porn is my lullaby now.
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keep touching yourself