My Roommates' Slut (CHAPTER 56) (Patreon)

It was definitely the first time I’d walked down the street with that much manly cream on my ass, and I had to admit it was a pretty wild mix of embarrassment, humiliation, and... excitement.

Yeah, I admit it. Walking through the streets with a completely relaxed Julien beside me, knowing I had his cum on me while we were out in public, was strangely satisfying.

“So, how does it feel?” Julien asked innocently, his hands comfortably buried in the pockets of his shorts.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, man. You know exactly what I mean.” He sneakily ran a hand over my ass. “That.”

The bastard pressed lightly against my butt cheek, which immediately made me shudder when I felt the dampness he’d left behind.

“Hey! It’s gonna stick to the fabric, idiot.”

“Oops.” He grinned playfully. “My bad, slut.”

“When exactly am I allowed to wash myself?” I asked, already anticipating the looks from the other roommates when I got home.

My T-shirt was pretty short and did absolutely nothing to cover my ass. I was already getting a little anxious about all the people looking at us on the way back.

“Don’t get worked up. It’s just my little guys that like sticking to you, nothing more. You can wash them off before bed. If you want. But try to forget about them for now. They’re there for a good reason.”

I could clearly feel his cum beginning to dry, which was both a blessing and a potential problem, considering I had no idea what was going to happen next. Maybe the friction would make his semen come off in weird little flakes?

No idea.

I don't have a PhD in cum and its consequences.

“You staying for dinner tonight?” I asked Julien, trying to change the subject.

“Oh no, I’ve got rehearsal. Forget about me, guys.” He gave my back a friendly little pat. “Actually, we’ve never really talked about it, but did you like my playing?”

“Your playing?” I was suddenly confused.

“Yeah. The way I played guitar. You said you liked the concert, but I never got any constructive feedback.”

“Well...” The main images that came back to me from that famous concert at Supersonic were of the singer, with her purple streaks and slightly punkish, melancholy look as she seemed to be addressing me from the crowd.

Célia.

Adrien’s ex, who had apparently left him with one hell of a broken heart.

“I’ll admit I was mostly focused on Célia.”

Julien looked at me with a strangely curious expression.

“Oh yeah? What do you mean?” He genuinely seemed surprised by my answer. “You didn’t look at me at all?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that... her voice captivated me. And her stage presence too. She had some serious energy.”

“I get it,” Julien murmured, absentmindedly rubbing his chest. “I don’t stand much of a chance against a pretty girl like her.”

This time, I was the one who was surprised.

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought my little Steph would only have eyes for me. Naively.”

“Tsss... I’m not the only thing in your life, you know.”

Julien sighed.

“Hmm, I know.”

Then he waved goodbye.

“Alright. I’m off. See you later at the apartment. We’ll have to decide when we’re doing our second session this week.”

“Okay. Later.”

I watched the swimmer head off to the right, taking his natural scent with him, along with that unmistakable hint of chlorine that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Phew... I’m exhausted.

As I dropped my bag in the hallway, I caught Adrien’s eye.

Yes! Finally, he was out of his lair and seemed to be doing pretty well. He was wearing a shirt, but I could see beneath the desk that he wasn’t wearing any pants. Kind of like during those first few weeks when he used to sit around the living room working in just his boxers.

Seeing him like that again actually made me feel better.

“Hey, Steph. How are you holding up?”

“Aha, I’m completely wiped out. I feel like I’m going to be sore everywhere tomorrow.”

Adrien stopped typing on his computer and asked with interest:

“That’s from training with Julien?”

“Yeah, the session was fucking intense, and then he wouldn’t stop...” I cut myself off, realizing I was about to share information that might make Adrien uncomfortable.

He didn’t dare ask any more questions, but I could tell he suspected Julien and I had done more than just swim.

“He made me swim for miles, I swear. I broke my record, but I might’ve broken my shoulders too.”

I grabbed my aching arms.

“I imagine so,” Adrien said thoughtfully, before going back to typing.

“You working?”

“Of course. I have some overdue papers to write.” He seemed to open another file, which immediately made him roll his eyes. “I’m going to be here for a while.”

“I... I’d like to help you.”

I offered as I took off my sneakers, a little shy but genuinely willing to help.

My concern seemed to please the neurologist, because he gave me a sincere smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, this is what happens when you don't show up at the lab for several days. I deserve it.”

“You weren't doing well, Adrien. It's normal to take a few days off when you're struggling.”

“Well...” He sighed heavily. “I guess you'd have to explain that to my supervisors. And I need to write an exam for my students too, come to think of it. And the emails...”

He continued quietly listing things he clearly needed to get off his chest.

Adrien always seemed particularly overwhelmed by his postdoc work. I really hoped the reality of the research world wasn't going to be this difficult for me too, especially for such a lousy salary and with so little security for the future.

And to think I was considering going down that same academic path!

“Maybe I can make you something to eat. At least that.”

I finally came up with an idea that wasn't completely stupid, considering how long preparing a meal could take.

His eyes lit up.

“Man. That would be amazing. But you can't do that every time. You already made the pizzas yesterday.”

“Oh... that was more Greg and me trying to follow his orders and avoid getting crushed every time he moved around the kitchen.”

I walked into the kitchen, checking whether there were any leftovers in the fridge.

“Take something from my shelf, Steph. I don't want you paying for dinner too.”

Adrien called out from his chair.

This open-plan kitchen was pretty convenient, actually. We could talk across the apartment without having to keep moving around while preparing food, and still stay social.

“Don't worry. It makes me happy.”

I opened a can of corn I'd found in my corner, above Julien's shelf. It could make a decent starter, and I was in the mood for something fresh with the heat.

“Steph?”

“Hmm?”

It was Adrien again, this time sounding more hesitant.

“Uh... are you okay?”

“Why?”

I turned around.

His eyes.

Adrien's eyes were fixed on my crotch. Or rather, they had been, because now he was looking at me, slightly embarrassed.

“Your jeans are all dirty.”

“Oh! Shit.”

I instinctively grabbed my ass and could still feel Julien's sticky dampness underneath the fabric. He'd soaked through my jeans with astonishing ease.

So no, the swimmer's abundant cum hadn't dried yet.

Quite the opposite.

It seemed more viscous than ever.

“Shouldn't you change?”

Adrien was absolutely right, but I had to keep my end of the deal with Julien.

“I... it's nothing. I must not have dried myself properly at the pool.”

“Okay,” Adrien said thoughtfully.

Of course he didn't believe a single word of that excuse.

Water wasn't supposed to leave shiny stains like that on clothes, especially not exclusively in that particular place, in that particular way.

The only problem was that the idiot Julien had cum so much that the others were going to think he'd done it inside my ass rather than all over it!

And that distinction was pretty damn important.

Julien hadn't fucked me yet!

Well... sort of.

Just the head. Does that count?

It was training for you, Adrien…

And Greg.

And… Adrien yeah.

Ahlala.

- - -

I ended up making something pretty simple for dinner: just enough to keep Adrien alive while he fought his endless pile of paperwork: some fast-made ratatouille with a little salad for the starters.

He'd settled back onto the orange couch with his plate balanced carefully on his knees, while I stayed standing near the kitchen counter.

I wasn't taking any chances.

After what had just happened to my jeans, there was absolutely no way I was going to sit down on that couch and risk leaving some mysterious stain behind.

“Steph, you can sit down, you know.”

“Nope.”

Adrien glanced at me over the top of his laptop.

“Why not?” He asked between two bites. “That’s delicious by the way, thanks again.”

“I like standing. And you’re welcome.”

“You've been standing for ten minutes.”

“It's good for circulation.”

He gave me the sort of look that told me he knew perfectly well I was talking complete nonsense.

I kept eating. Eventually, though, standing started becoming surprisingly tiring, so I lowered myself onto the floor, which made Adrien stare at me:

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“It's more comfortable like that.”

“Why not the couch though?”

There was a pause.

Then Adrien smiled:

“You're being weird.”

“I've had a weird day.”

“You do you, man.”

I kept eating on the floor, leaning against the side of the couch while Adrien went back to his computer. For a few minutes, everything was almost peaceful, then the front door opened and some heavy stomps made me shake.

Greg.

He came back from practice looking exactly like I'd expected: exhausted, slightly sweaty, and carrying his sports bag like he'd just returned from a military campaign, each one of his steps strangely going through me (the feeling was even stronger with me on the floor at that moment).

He stopped when he saw me:

“...What you doing down there?”

“Eating.”

“Yeah. Can see that.”

“So?”

Greg snorted.

“You turning Japanese or something?”

“What?”

“Or maybe you two had an argument?”

Adrien laughed quietly from the couch:

“Stop teasing him big G.”

Greg dropped his sports bag near his room and looked me over again:

“You're def’ acting weird.”

“Yeah, I just told him.” Adrien approved, suspicious.

I shrugged.

"By the way," Greg added before vanishing into the bathroom. "Nice ratatouille Steph."

He closed the door and a few seconds later I heard the shower start.

I finished my food while Adrien continued working. The apartment slowly filled with the familiar sounds of water running, keyboard keys clicking, and the occasional sigh from Adrien. It was weirdly comforting. After a while, Adrien spoke without looking away from his screen:

“Have you thought about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. What we could do.”

I swallowed:

“Honestly? Not really. I barely had time to think about anything today. Between classes, the pool and...”

I looked toward the little pile of magazines I'd left near my things.

“I'll look tonight, though. Maybe there's something in my copy of L'Histoire.”

Adrien finally looked up:

“Well… this time, I want to be the one bringing you the knowledge.”

I looked at him for a moment. There was something about the way he'd said it that made me smile:

“Oh… okay.”

“Gonna’ think about something then.” He said while scratching his messy hair.

Before he could say anything else, the bathroom door opened. Greg emerged from the shower in his usual evening outfit: a loose black gym tank, grey shorts and white socks. His bald head was still damp and he looked considerably more relaxed than when he'd arrived.

He walked straight toward the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed himself some mysterious home-made stuff he had prepared before and leaned against the counter.

For a moment, the three of us were simply there together: Adrien working calmly, Greg eating with the appetite of a starving man, me sitting awkwardly on the floor.

It was strangely nice.

Then Adrien suddenly stopped typing. He looked at me, then at Greg, then back at me in a funny way:

“I've got an idea.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

His smile slowly grew.

“This might actually be perfect.”

- - -

I collapsed into my bed, my body feeling like a heavy, leaden weight. I was wearing nothing but a new pair of boxer briefs (didn’t want to make my bed stink of Julien’s cum). I tried to focus on my history textbooks, the pages blurring as I read about ancient civilizations, but my mind was a chaotic loop of the day's filth.

My arms and legs ached with a dull, lingering soreness from the swimming session, a physical reminder of the exertion and the way I'd been handled. As I shifted, the fabric of my boxers brushed against my thighs. I looked down at my legs: freshly shaved, smooth, and glistening under the dim light of my room.

Might getting used to this feeling...

The sheer smoothness of my skin felt erotic. The sensation sent a sudden, sharp jolt of arousal straight to my groin, making my cock twitch and leak a bead of pre-cum against the cotton.

Fuck… why I am so horny again?

I couldn't stop thinking about them.

Well…

Specifically, I couldn't stop thinking about their cocks at the moment.

With trembling fingers, I reached into my bedside drawer and fetched the black plug Julien had given me. Just looking at the sleek, dark silicone made my breath hitch.

It’s been a while. Dark messenger.

Are you supposed to give a name to your plug?

Julien wanted me trained; he wanted my hole ready and for whenever he or the others decided to claim it. And I kept thinking back to the way he described fucking me.

I reached for the lube, my heart hammering against my ribs as I coated the plug in a thick, slippery layer. I rolled onto my stomach, arching my back and pushing my ass high into the air. I felt very submissive in that position, almost like if I was waiting for one of the guys to show up and actually plow me.

Damn… what happened to me?

Guess they really turned me into a bottom.

Right now, there was this weird force that made me crave to be filled.

I pressed the tip of the plug against my tight, puckered entrance and let out a shaky moan as I slowly pushed it inside. The friction was intense, the plug stretching my walls as it slid deeper, filling the void that had been craving attention since I left the locker room.

I didn't just push it in; I started to edge myself, sliding the plug halfway out and then slamming it back in with a greedy grunt.

Every thrust brought back a vivid image of Greg, Adrien then Julien, then back to Greg, in a ballet of faces I could barely control.

I wanna take Greg’s cock again.

It felt too much, too rough and too weird at the same time.

But I was kinda proud at the same time.

I actually made him cum.

With my hole.

I closed my eyes and could almost feel his massive, muscular frame pinning me down, the sheer weight of him crushing the air out of my lungs. I imagined his huge, heavy balls (his two warm kiwis I enjoyed licking) pressing hard against my perineum, the scent of his pungent, masculine sweat filling my nose.

"Fuck," I whimpered, my voice sounding small and desperate in the quiet room.

In my mind, Greg wasn't using a plug. He was plowing into me with that fat, thick cock, stretching my tight ass to the absolute limit. I recalled the feeling of his load filling me, the warmth of his cum radiating inside me even through the latex of a condom.

I remembered the sight of it too: the way the condom had popped out of my hole, still encased in a plastic bag, bloated and heavy with his massive seed, stretching my opening wide as it emerged.

Fuck!

Why did that vision alone is making me dripping precum right now?

I began to fuck the plug harder, my hips snapping upward to meet the silicone. I was obsessed with the idea of Greg using my ass, of being nothing more than a hole for his pleasure.

I imagined him growling in my ear, calling me his little slut while he hammered away at my prostate, and fucking me until his bed would rock against the wall and make the whole apartment shake like when he was fucking his regular girls.

He’s going to fuck you Wednesday.

Greg is going to do it again.

I looked down at my dripping cock and sighed:

Shit, can’t take it!

I needed something more. I didn’t want to just cum with the plug inside, that was something I had already done. I wanted more stimulation.

Fuck the rules!

I need a cock, and I need it right now!

Something organic.

Something thick.

Something curvy.

I needed…

Adrien.

The thought of his thick, curved cock, that heavy mushroom head that had stretched my throat, made my mouth water. I couldn't wait. I didn't care that it was Monday and that we were supposed to wait tomorrow night, I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and shot him a quick message:

Me: Hey. You awake?

The reply came almost instantly:

Adrien: Yeah?

Me: Can I come?

Maybe just a couple seconds before he asked:

Adrien: Right now?

Yeah…

Me: Right now.