The Roommate's Baby

By: Penny Wylder

I can already picture how it will be. I've fucked plenty of girls around this apartment, I know all the best spots. The shower in my room with the detachable shower head, the kitchen counter which is at just the right height for me to pick girls up and spread their legs around my hips. This couch, which is pretty comfortable to bend girls over the arm of, or the leather reclining chair where I could pull her across to straddle and ride my cock. I like that idea best, the thought of watching her sexy curves as she bounces up and down on my shaft, her head falling back with pleasure...

"I've got to shower, and I have work early," she stammers. "Tomorrow?"

My eyes are practically on fire when they meet hers, and I don't bother to conceal my grin when I agree. "Tomorrow it is," I tell her.



Oh God. Was this a terrible idea?

I'm standing in my bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. Already things are different. There's a charge in the apartment that never existed before. I went out of my room to get a glass of water before I came in to get ready for bed, and the whole time I kept stealing glances at Cannon, still sitting shirtless on the couch right where I left him. I could feel him watching me too, could hear the tension in his voice when he called out goodnight.

It just reminds me all over again of the way he looked at me tonight after my suggestion. With whole new eyes, like he'd never seen me before.

Not to mention how hard his cock got when I asked him to fuck me.

Impregnate me, my brain corrects. It's a business arrangement. Two people doing each other a solid. He likes sex, I'll give him sex. I need a baby, he'll give me a baby. Easy. Totally normal deal.

So why am I hiding in my bedroom like I'm terrified of him suddenly?

Well, for one thing, because I was completely unprepared to have sex with Cannon tonight. I stare at myself once more in the bathroom mirror—at the unshaven mess that I've let myself become because I haven't hooked up with anyone in... I count backwards. God, not for at least seven months. What's wrong with me? Am I becoming an old maid already?

But I couldn't exactly tell him that we couldn't hook up because I needed a long shower and to ready myself first. That's the only reason things feel awkward right now, I tell myself.

This arrangement won't change anything. It won't affect our friendship. We're good friends; we can do this. Keep things professional. Cannon is right. He might be more blatant about it than I am, but we're both pros at NSA. We'll just fuck, a lot, and then move on with our lives without complicating things for one another.

Oh God. Even just the thought of that—of fucking him—is doing things to my body. My already hormonal brain is running through scenarios, imagining his sexy washboard abs poised over me, the thick cock that I caught a glimpse of through his jeans poised at the entrance to my pussy. I imagine him in my bedroom, tossing me down onto the bed and tearing my shirt off. Flinging it across the room the way he throws his other hookups' clothes around, like he's wild with lust.

I imagine the look he wore in his eyes tonight on the couch, trained on me again, all white hot desire, and it's making me wet already just to think about it.

I need a shower.

I climb into the shower and turn the water on cold. But even that doesn't help, because as I go through the motions, scrubbing myself and making sure to shave my pussy closely, I'm already picturing why I'm doing this. I'm picturing that familiar, sexy half-grin of Cannon's poised between my legs, his tongue sliding between my pussy lips to lick me slowly, back to front, making me half-crazy with lust before he slides up to tongue my clit. I set my razor down and slide my fingers between my legs instead, imagining his mouth here instead, sucking and licking at my clit, all while keeping his eyes trained on mine, those dark, familiar eyes, hot with a lust that I'd never seen in them before.

Then I imagine him spreading my legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling me toward him, and positioning his cock at my entrance. Slowly pushing into me. A groan escapes my lips as I push one finger into my pussy, imagining it's him, his cock in me, his body pressed against mine. I push a second finger inside myself, pull it out and push them both back in, gasping as I pick up speed, rocking against my hand as I picture Cannon's perfectly sculpted body over me, the way his hips would look as he pumped his cock into me. The way his deep voice would sound when he moaned my name aloud...

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