Goonette Roommate Part 6
maybe it's too quiet
It felt strange being in the apartment without the sounds of porn playing. It also felt odd to be naked like my roommate. That part, though, was easy to get used to.
I cleaned the kitchen and put everything away. I tried to listen intently, but I couldn’t hear any noise from my roommate this time. She really had gone quiet. It was a little unnerving. I think I got used to her moaning and... the porn. Did I really get used to it? Do I actually miss it?
I tried to shake the feeling. I got what I wanted: peace and quiet. I’m free from the porn..free from her gooning... But I started to wonder if I’d hurt Michelle. I hope she hasn’t retreated into herself again. I hope she’s not slipping into a dark place.
I don’t know why I’m still naked, but I kind of like it.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Normally, Michelle would be naked, sprawled out on the couch in a goon trance by now. I’d quietly retreat to my room, slip into my own world with my headphones. It felt strange to take over a space that was hers. It’s our living room, but she did more living there than I did. It didn’t feel right to defile the TV with something that wasn’t porn.
Oh my God, I’m thinking like her. What’s wrong with me?
I think I’ll go to my room and clear my thoughts. I got what I wanted. So why do I feel like something’s missing?
I headed to my room to watch my usual shows—someplace safe, familiar. Then it happened.
A bikini try-on haul popped up in my feed. She looked a little like Michelle—fit, toned, with caramel skin. Not a pro-level model, but a step above the women you see in everyday life. I usually skip those videos since I can’t afford to travel right now. But for some reason, I kept watching. Then she turned around and bent over, teasing the camera. I’m straight... or at least I think I am. I started thinking about Michelle’s ass.
I can’t believe this is on a normal video site. How is this allowed? Is it because she’s still wearing clothes? She clearly knows what she’s doing. Why can’t I stop watching?
I took a few deep breaths to relax. It’s okay. It’s not porn. It’s just a woman reviewing swimwear. Lots of women watch videos like this. My hand slowly drifted to my crotch. Why? I touched myself. I was wet. Why am I wet?
A screen was making me wet... again. In less than 24 hours, a screen had betrayed me. I think my roommate has corrupted me. But I haven’t had sex in a while. This isn’t porn, so it’s fine. Right?
But, I don’t need to cum staring at a screen. I still prefer a real man. I still prefer a penis inside me... if I could ever get out of my head and actually date again. Living with a goonette roommate is so distracting. But she's perfect in every way besides the porn. She's so sexy.
Why am I masturbating to a woman trying on bikinis? Why am I watching another one of her videos? This isn’t happening. I can't believe I want to keep touching myself.
Just touching is okay, right? I’m not watching. I’m not gooning. I just need a little relief.
My fingers slipped deeper between my thighs. I put one finger inside myself... just for a moment. Just to ease the tension. This isn’t porn. Not filth. Just...a woman wearing a bikini...that has a nice ass...fuck.
Why does Michelle do this for hours? How can she stand it? The point is to finish, right? Why am I savoring the moment? Usually, I get myself off much quicker. It’s been over 30 minutes now. I’ve watched three videos on this woman’s page. Why do I feel so pathetic? Why can’t I stop? Why don’t I care?
Edging is dumb anyway. Who wants to be denied? The point is to cum. To finish. That’s what sex is for.
But then I felt it.
That low, wet heat. My body responded faster than it ever had, like it was waiting. Like it knew. The touch didn’t even feel foreign anymore.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else—someone else. A man. A real body. Hands on my skin. Kisses. Heat.
But instead, I remembered my last date.
How bored I was.
How quiet it was. Hell, it’s too quiet now. I think I miss Michelle—her porn, her moans, her grunts, her slaps, her giggles. Why do I keep thinking about her? I need to focus.
That last date was fucking horrible.
His voice faded into nothing while I kept wondering what moan Michelle might be making at that moment. I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. I just wanted to go home. Back to the noise. Back to the chaos.
Back to her.
I gasped—half horror, half pleasure. My fingers hadn’t stopped moving.
I was more than wet. I was soaked.
And I hadn’t even meant to be.
I put my phone down. The bikini lady was still talking about coverage and support or something like that. But then I picked it back up. I wanted to watch some more.
I kept rubbing. Slowly.
And I kept watching.
I’m doing it.
I can’t believe it.
I’m actually giving in.
This woman isn’t even naked, and here I am, ass naked and wetter than I’ve ever been. This can’t be happening. She feels so much more superior than me like this... I want to see more.... Is this how it starts? How Michelle started..? I hope she's ok. I'm very horny right now.
Why am I on this lady's Instagram? I should have never checked that link in the comments.. Why am I still staring at her ass? It's been nearly and hour now.. My room smells like pussy.
My God, her bikinis are smaller over here. She’s practically naked.
My pussy is so wet right now.
This isn’t what Christians do. This isn’t what good people do. But I haven’t been to church in months. I stopped going one Sunday because Michelle’s late-night pleasure sessions kept waking me. I got tired of nodding off in church, so I slept more. Eventually, I stopped trying to go back.
Now? I barely remember what it feels like to sit in a pew. I barely remember what my roommate looks like in clothes.
Has the porn world taken over?
It’s been nearly a year. A year of moans, of wetness, of quiet horror creeping under my skin. A year of slowly unraveling—until now. Until this moment.
I’m lying on my bed, naked, touching myself.
I’m scrolling Instagram, staring at black goddesses.
I don’t think I’m straight anymore.
I shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t right.
But my hand won’t stop.
It feels so strange not hearing Michelle gooning in the living room.
She’s always happy. All she does is watch porn and masturbate. You can’t reason with her. You could tell her to her face that she’s ruining her life, and she’d just stand there, naked, touching herself like you’re speaking a foreign language.
Why?
Why is she so happy? Why is her body always humming with life? Why does my own body, untouched by a man in months, feel more electric than it ever did during real sex?
I’m still scrolling. I didn’t know Instagram was basically porn.
Why is my mind screaming “stop” while my fingers move with purpose, like they were born for this?
I’m not addicted.
I’m not a goonette.
I’m not even watching “real” porn.
I’m not.
I can’t stop.
My pussy is soaked. My thighs are trembling. I can hear porn sounds in my head now. I’m making porn in my mind because it’s too quiet without Michelle.
I don’t want this. My mind is saying that.
This isn’t me. My mind is saying that.
But my body won’t listen.
I miss Michelle.
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keep touching yourself