r/rs4cishetmales

So, I was living in a flat (apartment for Americans) in London about a year after I graduated from uni, I was 22 (f, lol), and I had a bit of a crush on my flatmate’s bf.

She was very type-A organised and dowdy, an Oxbridge grad, and could be quite snooty and annoying. He was good looking (obviously), athletic but not bulky, had a quite chiselled face, and naturally very cheeky/confident/flirty.
It was hard to tell, actually, if/when he was flirting with me or if this was just the way he was with everyone.

He would come into the house fresh from running a 10k and be there, topless in his shorts, smiling and drinking water and chatting away with me, encouraging me to go running too, that I should go for a jog with him sometime. “Well, if you’re going to have your top off the whole way”, I’d say, trying to be cheeky back. He’d wink and stroll off.
I would then feel quite anxious/guilty/embarrassed about even saying something like that. And horny, of course.
A bit of a confusing conflation of feelings, really.

There was one morning I woke up quite hungover from a night out with workmates (I was working at a bookshop at the time, nothing too wild), and I’d literally had a dream about him that I had to have a wank about when I woke up.
The dream was nothing too complicated — we had sex, I felt guilty and worried throughout about his gf finding out (I do see a therapist, lol). I was thinking at this time that despite fancying him and despite him seemingly flirting with me a bunch, I wouldn’t sleep with him because you really just shouldn’t fuck someone who’s in a relationship, it is a bit of a sacred thing.

When I was done I went into the kitchen to make myself some coffee and saw he was there, again back from an early morning run, again topless in shorts, white socks and running shoes.
I think he did this deliberately. I was in my pyjama shorts and a white t-shirt without a bra. I noticed him peeking at my tits, and then pretending not to (psa: we can always tell, you know. Although of course sometimes, some of us like it, as long as it’s the right guy).

“Can I make you coffee?” I asked.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Black? With milk?”
“Splash of milk, that’s perfect.”
I filled the kettle and turned it on, then hummed and tapped my finger nails on the counter while I waited. I’m quite awkward person lol. He just smiled. I really, really liked his smile. It could put you at ease.
“Good run?” I asked.
“Great, thanks, yeah. 10k in 50 mins” he said, and pulled out his phone to show me on this GPS running app.
“Impressive!” I said. I didn’t really know: I guess running continuously for 50 minutes alone was impressive enough. And he had a very nice body: six pack, nicely toned arms. He had a face I would describe as pretty, which is what I like in men.

“I should really exercise, shouldn’t I. It’d probably make me less anxious.”
“Oh yeah, everyone should. I could give you a workout, if you like?”
“Yeah?” I said, and I literally involuntarily gulped. I was very conspicuous.
“Yeah, show you some yoga positions and that. It’s very calming, really helps me unwind after a run.”
“That’d be great, we should definitely do that sometime. Where’s Erin by the way [his gf, my flatmate, my sort of friend sort of enemy]?”
“Oh, she’s out for the day — having tea and cake with some uni friends, all girls, I’m not invited. I should have a shower and get changed and head on back to my actual home soon, but I always need a bit of a wind-down after a run before I can brave the fucking London Underground network.”
“Ah” I said. “Just me to keep you entertained then.”
“Well, I’m sure we can find something fun to do?”

Someone a bit more socially adept than me would have been able to think of something sexy to say to that. Instead I asked if he wanted to watch Mad Men with me.

So we wound up lying on my bed on a hot day, him in his shorts, me in my shorts and a shirt with my big round frame glasses on (if you want to picture me, I’m a smallish skinny brunette arty hipster sort I suppose, lol, with small tits), and we were half-watching a show on my laptop. And I was still adamantly thinking that I wasn’t going to fuck him, that I wasn’t trying to fuck him, and yet I’d engineered us into this situation.
I suppose all the psychoanalysis I read comes in handy here — we’ve all got conflicting selves and desires, and our deeper repressed intentions do tend to give themselves away.

Mad Men got a bit sexy — Don was flirting with an unbelievably pretty teacher. Me and Tom (let’s call him, lol) agreed that we both wanted to fuck her.
“So you’re a lesbian, then?”
“Bi.”
“Are you one of those girls who says she’s bi to be edgy but then never actually fucks another woman, or one of those fun threesome girls?”
“Oh Jesus.”
He laughed. I laughed too, despite myself. I flipped on my stomach to stare at him. He was staring at me. He had a sly, suggestive grin — but then he always did.
“Is that what you like, fun threesome girls?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not everyone’s into group sex, I think.”
“Are you?”
I paused for a moment. I had a bit of a tight, awkward smile. I was staring off at the wall. He was still staring straight at me, confidently, as if holding me with his eyes.
“I am. And I’ve done it, actually.”
“Have you? Bit of a dark horse, Rosie.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What, so you can wank off thinking about it?”
He laughed.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“God.” I said, and shook my head. I don’t know why I was acting like I was appalled by him: I was actually turned on. I guess it was that inner-conflict again.
“Me and you and Erin. Should we do that sometime?”
I performatively sighed in exasperation.
“I don’t think that’s Erin’s type at all, to tell the truth.”
“It is interesting though, isn’t it, what turns people on. I think it’s an under-explored part of human psychology.”
“Mmm” I said, sincerely, and stared back at him.
“Like, what turns you on?”
“Ah.”
“No, seriously, it’s interesting. Do you watch porn?”
“Well. Yes.” I said, awkwardly.
“And do you ever find yourself surprised by what actually turns you on?”
“I do sometimes, yes.”
“So give me some examples.”
I grinned involuntarily and buried my face in the sheets. I don’t know why I felt so awkward.
“Ok” I said, raising my head back up. “I’ll say a few things. Because it’s interesting.”
“Out of cold, objective interest. Yes.”
“Out of sheer scientific curiosity.”
“Precisely. We’re just trying to uncover the mystery of human sexuality.”
“Ok. Certain words around sex. Hard, monosyllable Anglo-Saxonic words like cunt and slut rather than pussy, which I hate.”
“You like being called a slut?”
I shivered and opened my mouth involuntarily.
“I’ll take that as a yes” he said, and smirked.
“And, like, when a guy arrogantly takes his cock out in porn. And the girl’s all shocked before she starts sucking him off or whatever.”
“Really? Oh my god.”
“Yes! As long as there’s, like, consent. I don’t like non-consensual sort of stuff at all.”
“Right. No rough stuff?”
“Well. I like spanking.”
I knew — I knew — we really shouldn’t be having this conversation. He’d been dating Erin for two years.
“Do you?”
“Yes. Lock me up and throw away the key.”
“Or maybe I should spank you for it.”
I laughed.
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
And then he did.

“Ow!” I said. “Oh my god!”
“Did you like that?”
I was smiling, despite trying my hardest not to smile. He smacked me again.
“Ok, that was quite nice. But we really shouldn’t be doing this.”
“It is a bit bad.”
“Erin wouldn’t be very happy if she knew you smacked my ass.”
“No. So we shouldn’t tell her.”
“Nah.”
“We’ll keep it a secret from her.”
“Exactly.”
He smacked me again, quite hard. I gasped.
“God” I said.
“Why don’t you be a good slut and pull down your shorts so I can smack you properly?” I could see through his shorts how hard he’d gotten. It was ridiculous.

I did as I was told, pulling my shorts and knickers down around my knees, my stomach still on the bed. He smacked me again.

“God, you’re terrible, aren’t you?”
“You’re pretty bad yourself.”
“God, we really, really shouldn’t be doing this” I said, and I tugged my shorts back up.
“Oh, it’s just that you said you like being smacked.”
“And I do…”
“And, if I recall correctly, you like it when guys whip their cocks out?”
I laughed a bit bashfully, and then found myself automatically looking at his crotch, which he of course noticed.
“So do you want me to?”
“Look. I would find it hot, yes. I would like it. But we really shouldn’t. I mean, have you cheated on Erin before? Is this just something you do? Because it’s pretty cruel if that’s the case.”
“It’s not, actually. I promise you: I’ve been on the cusp of cheating with her before, at parties and stuff, but I’ve always resisted. I wasn’t trying to — you know — get us in this situation. But you’re just very cute. So.”
“Thank you.”
“And you think we shouldn’t.”
“We might regret it. We might feel bad.”
“If I did this?” He asked. And he pulled down his shorts a bit, and his hard cock sprung out.
“Oh my god” I said, laughing. I couldn’t help but look at it.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“That is a nice cock. That is a nice cock, to be fair.”
“So…?”
I was grinning and covering my eyes with my hand. I looked again and giggled.
“You’re awful. You’re actually awful.”
“Yeah?”

I licked my palm a few times to get it wet, then started rubbing my hand around the head of his cock.
“Oh fuck” he whispered.
I then started wanking him off.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, you’re good at this.”
“Yeah?”
“Jesus Christ…”
“I’ve seen you hanging round the house without your top on, or perving down my dress. You are a bit of a perv, aren’t you?”
“Yes, God—“
“Trying to fuck your girlfriend’s younger flatmate. Awful.”
“Yes…”
I was then wanking him off quite quickly.
“Can you show me your tits?” He asked.
I sat up a bit and pulled my top up enough to show them.
“These tits?”
“God, fuck they’re nice—”
“Yeah? You wanna come all over them?”
“God yes…God, you’re so fucking hot…” (I love when men become incoherent from horniness lol).

And then we heard the front door open.
“Hey Rosie. Tom are you still here?” said Erin coming in.
“Oh fuck” he said. I was still wanking him off and maintaining direct eye contact. I was trying to look judgemental. I knew he found it hot.
“Hey Erin!” I said.
“God I’m going to come — baby, I’m gonna come” he whispered.
“Yeah? You gonna come for me?” I said quietly.
I put my face near his cock and started going faster. And faster. And then he came. He came a lot. I could feel his cock pulsing in my tight grip. It splashed on my face, on my neck, on my chest, on my tits a bit, and in my hair.
I smiled at him, rubbed a bit off my tits, and licked it off my finger. He clearly loved this. Perv.
We could hear Erin walk into the kitchen. She turned the kettle on.
“Could you make me a tea?” I asked.
“Sure!” She said. I smiled at Tom, who was smiling at me, and looking a bit worried. I got up and got some tissues and cleaned myself off in the mirror. I pulled my top back down, and found a large man’s shirt in my drawer to throw to Tom. He put it on.
“Tom’s just in here” I said “we’re watching Mad Men, he just got back from a run”
“Oh!” She shouted. “Hi Tom!”
“Hi babe!” He shouted.
“Babe?” she said, questioningly. His head must have been all over the place.
“Hey Erin” he said, normally. I’d just cleaned the last of his cum out my hair with a wet wipe when she came in, entirely happy and unsuspecting (I think.)

[I’ve got more to say on this whole saga, but I think I’ll pause for now lol]