When Lovers Become Roommates

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Note to readers:

This story features the title characters from the five part "Laura and Don" series, posted here in 2019. It shouldn't be necessary to read the series first, because this story stands alone, and includes some description of what happened before. The author, however, would certainly welcome your interest in Laura's and Don's earlier adventures. You can find those stories through my profile (and directly from the 'stories' link above, if you have it), but be aware that Part 4, originally posted in Letters and Transcripts, was moved by the site to Romance.)

***

Laura liked her Sunday breakfasts to be just-so. Relaxed and casual, but refined. Don didn't mind, and he helped, because they were in his apartment. They approached this breakfast as they normally did, even though they were discussing a Life-Changing Moment.

There had been enough of these weekends that Don knew what to expect. After some playful wakeup sex, they cleaned up, put on bathrobes, and took to the kitchen. Today they brought poached eggs, melon slices, toast with preserves, pineapple juice, and coffee, to Don's card table. As they ate, they passed back and forth sections of the weekend edition of a major news source that still printed on paper.

"So we're agreed?" she asked. "We will live together, here? I can tell my landlord that I won't sign my new lease?"

Don spread his hands. "I welcome you to my humble abode. Or maybe grumble, or stumble. I will build you a freestanding wardrobe out of flatpack, and cram it into a corner that might not be in our way all the time."

She leaned closer. He was surprised to see worry. "I don't ever want to get mad at you," she said. "Or upset, or even impatient. Can I apologize in advance, now, if I ever do that later?"

He knew this was not the time for witty repartee. He took her hand and kissed it gently. "Not necessary. Yes, I understand that we'll be together at times when we'd rather avoid togetherness."

She looked fondly at the man to whom she had given her heart.

Or did he take it?

she wondered.

Some of both?

His smile showed great teeth, his nose was long, and his chin was narrow. His light brown hair was askew. His compact body felt very good when it pressed on hers, and his lovemaking was sensitive and thorough. He was also sharper than any tack, and the only man she'd met who could match her in wordplay and wit.

He enjoyed the sight of her at the same time, maybe because she was training on him so intently the hazel eyes that had stolen his soul. Even after amorous activity, her black hair was thick enough to hold its shape in this cut, curled in at the nape, with bangs. Her satiny white robe was cinched enough for him to perceive the contours of what he called her B-cup beauties, high on the long torso which she strangely thought of as unattractive. At any time, her sagacity and humor could keep him on his toes, giving him a challenge he hoped could last forever.

"We use different gyms," she said. "Let's keep it that way. We each get time alone, outside the apartment."

"Where you can get ogled by strange men," he bantered.

"Any man who wants to watch me perspire," she said, piling on more and phonier refinement, "is a creep who shan't get the time of day from me." She batted her lashes. "Besides, Darling, there's no man stranger than you."

"No argument," he said. Then he stroked his chin and added, "Wasn't it just a little while ago that you didn't mind sweating in my presence?" The thought of her energetic cowgirling gave him both his wolfish grin and a need to separate his legs.

She raised her head haughtily. "It's just as well you didn't ask me the time of day. And I'm confident that you'll disdain the attention of the floozies at your gym."

"When I wipe down the elliptical," he said, "the towel gets the drool along with the sweat. No evidence."

As they kept this up, Laura felt good about him being around, and even underfoot. She tried to find the right word for what she felt, and settled on contentment.

Don had never thought of this place as a mancave. He was too career-driven to pay much attention to bachelorhood. In the abstract, he could see no downside to living with a woman of superior brilliance and allure.

Ah,

he thought,

but who among us lives in the abstract?

Laura switched to the main topic. "Your place is bigger than mine, and you have unused space in your basement storage. Paying one rent will get us closer to debt freedom. I'll endure those times when I'm in the presence of a man, while I'd rather be alone." She smiled. "That would actually be easier with anybody else. You're my favorite source of fun, brain and body, so I'll always be in danger of distraction. Often I'll just have to say no to both of us."

Don nodded, agreeing with her calculus but resenting the practicality. He thought,

We should live together because we're in love!

But their focus, long before they had met, was to pay off their student loans and then get on with their lives. Splitting rent would get him to fifteen months from final paydown, and her to eleven months. Their careers kept them afloat during the COVID-19 lockdown, which cut down expenses like bar hopping. They had been steady and exclusive for a year. That had seemed to be enough. But he wondered.

"Maybe now is the time," he said slowly, "to decide what our rules are for accepting distraction."

"I'll dress frumpy all the time," she said, then pulled his hand to her mouth and lightly tongued his fingers. "You won't be interested." Then she swayed her torso slightly, and her breasts teased behind the fabric of her robe.

"I'm trying to be serious," he said.

"I know," she said, letting go of his hand. "And that scared me. But now I'm ready. Go ahead."

"Can we increase our fun frequency?" he asked. "Maybe one weeknight in addition to the weekend?"

"In theory, yes," she said. "But that'll depend entirely on workload. I always have a big conference on Wednesday, so never the night before. But I can aim for freeing up Wednesday night. You?"

"Extra work can show up without warning. I'll do my best to keep a couple hours open on Hump night, so to speak."

She smirked. "Any entertainment that has no monetary cost is a positive."

He could have let it drop there, maybe with a quip about the cost of condoms, and resumed their just-so breakfast. But he recalled the vagueness in their courtship that might have led to a bad outcome. "After we met," he said, "we were never really clear on whether we were exclusive. And we weren't."

She put aside playfulness. "We had agreed to step back and figure out how we felt about each other."

"Yes, and that worked," he said. "And the fact that we had sex with other people didn't break us up. But, still, we never discussed in advance whether we should or shouldn't. We're smart and communicative. Nothing that's important should ever be left unsaid."

"Agreed," she said. Then she softened a bit. "I wasn't ready, that first morning after, to trust you. Now I am."

"Good. We've been exclusive for more than a year. I'll pledge to stay that way."

"So will I." She smirked again. "Cheating would be more difficult while we're living together."

"No it wouldn't," he said, more sternly than he expected. He found that he was worried about this. "We're out of full lockdown, and we both put in plenty of hours at workplaces."

She got equally serious. "Which will make our lovenest more of a relief destination. My sex life has had some wild moments, but absolutely none connected with work. I keep that as a barrier. You've seen how I protect my public persona."

Indeed, he recalled how her correspondence during their month of non-togetherness was handwritten, going well beyond her policy against sexting. There was nothing in any electronic medium in which Laura Canfield appeared as anything other than a serious financial-planning professional.

Now she pressed on. "And you? Any workplace flirtations?"

"No. Including before we met. The tech realm is still mostly male. That's why I did the wingman thing, in the hope of finding someone who turned out to be you."

"So we agree," she continued, "that we're exclusive when it comes to partner sex. The Nasty is something that Don Pelfrey and Laura Canfield do only with each other. Does that state the matter unambiguously?"

"I believe it does," he said. With that, he relaxed enough to enjoy again the sight of her lips, skin,

eyes!

"Good," she said, taking a bite of toast. "But we're not done with this subject."

"We're not?" He asked. Their usual approach had been followed thus far: Long, drawn-out sex on Saturday night, the Sunday morning routine, then more long, drawn-out sex, then a snuggly shower, before her return to the apartment she'd soon abandon. "Do you mean extending weekend fun to start on Friday?"

"No, but we can address that first, if you like."

He almost grimaced. "I don't think it'll always work, for me. The data mining ties in to a lot of end-of-week reports, and sometimes they carry over to Saturday. Even when I can work from home, I'll have to focus."

"We can make Friday night to Saturday afternoon an option," she said. "But if you let me know beforehand that you'll be swamped, I'll see about taking on extra work on Fridays."

"Brilliant," he said. "So now I have to get through Friday nights, with you living here, and count down the minutes."

"I could go beyond frumpy," she offered, deadpan. "The hair has to go into rollers sometime."

He whimpered, not entirely in jest, then said, "What were you going to bring up?"

Her look was neutral. "Is it your intention to extend our exclusivity to solitary vice?"

She was pleased to see his brow descend. In delight she thought,

I confused him!

He settled for saying, "How do you mean?"

"Do you believe that you now own my orgasms?"

"Whaaat?"

She moved beyond her thrill at his befuddlement.

We've now agreed to communicate fully,

she lectured herself. "I'll be the subject of this example, perhaps assisting you towards our next activity. Let's say that we're home together, but both loaded down with work. I am a highly-sexed woman, often in need of release. You are a highly-sexed man, and if I breathe on you there would be an immediate erection. With the exceptions, now, of Wednesday and the weekend, we won't have time to commit to what we'd both want. But with two fingers I could meet my need in perhaps two minutes, limiting my lost time and not requiring any time from you. If I were to do this, would you be upset?"

After a moment, Don said, "I have to admit, this has never occurred to me." With a straight face, he eased his feet from his slippers. "I suppose it counts as a form of cheating, since you'd exclude me from your ecstasy. But it's also self-sufficiency, since you wouldn't depend on me. In a way, you'd be considerate, saving my time that I would gladly relinquish to you." He slid his foot onto hers, and slowly up her ankle. "Is it accurate for me to conclude that you already have frequent trysts with these fingers?"

She fought to keep her deadpan, while sliding her leg along his foot. "That is the lot of the highly-sexed woman."

"I believe I can accept that," he said, bringing his other foot into play. "If the converse also applies."

She grimaced, more than necessary, to make a point. "It would, but only with each of us attending to all necessary hygiene and cleanup, in this living space which we'll share." She leaned forward, showing more of the gap between her breasts. "In your case, this means only into the toilet. Or the shower, with water running."

His toes played with her knee. "How about into a condom, while I look at you?"

"Eeeuww!" she said, leaning back again. "Hands above the table, Mister."

Raising his coffee cup and forkful of melon, he indicated his manual innocence. "Like you'd never sneak a peek?"

"I won't even dignify that with a response," she said, even though both knew that she had rubbed out to letters from him. "Yes, I suppose that you may, if you must. But only if I'm completely unaware of it."

He admitted, "That might be tough. And should I be silent?"

"Please."

"Are your fingers all you need? Or do you also employ devices?"

"I've heard amazing things about certain objects. So far, when I look at their prices, I keep in mind how many seconds sooner I might be debt-free if I didn't spend the money."

"You're a demanding roommate," he said, withdrawing his feet.

"In every respect," she said, standing up. "We haven't even gotten to the difficult stuff, like combining laundry loads and allocating refrigerator space." She walked around the table, leaving food on her plate.

"You gonna eat that?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, throwing open her robe. She shoved aside his plate, sat on the table in front of him, and spread her legs. "After you eat this, Footsie Boy."

His laugh lasted only until he brought his lips to her vulva. Her clitoris was already swelling when his tongue pressed it wetly. She purred, glad that she hadn't already fingered it as a demo.

He reduced contact just enough to say, "Hold steady." She responded by closing her thighs on his head, and crossing her calves on his back. He wrapped one arm around her trunk, setting the hand firmly against the base of her spine. He raised his other hand to her bosom.

"Ohhhhhhh," she said, neck lifting, head tilting back. "Thank you, for the, warning!"

He kept his mouth where it was, tongue swirling the bud, lower lip sliding along labia, upper teeth barely touching her short pubes. The hand on her left breast, gentle then firm, flicked the nipple, then poked, then moved the meat with splayed fingers. Behind the breast, her heart raced.

Don saw Laura raise a hand to fondle her other breast. He had been about to switch, but now maintained his efforts where they were. The motion and taste of her clit hood, the stiffening push of her nipple, spurred his cock to open his robe.

After a time interval neither knew, measured, or cared about, Laura howled, and repeatedly pounded the table with her free hand. Heat coursed through her, spasms shook her groin, and her brain was bathed with certain chemicals that were there all along but seemed to erupt best at times like these.

After another time interval, she lowered her hand from her breast to his head, and stroked his hair. "Please tell me," she said, "that you haven't had the kind of fun that I just had."

"No, I haven't smeared the underside of the card table."

"To reiterate," she said, "Eeeuuww! But since you were a good boy...mmm...in many respects, you may now smear the inside of some latex."

They separated carefully, aware of the limits of a collapsible-leg card table. After seeing that the robe fabric had remained between her butt and the table, reducing cleanup, Laura was amused to find her table-pounding hand had closed into a fist, and that it contained a torn page of the newspaper's book review section. Then she reached to fork a bite from her plate while Don got a condom from the pocket of the robe he then doffed.

Given their respective conditions, missionary quickly had him close to the brink while she calmly enjoyed an afterbuzz. Yet he was able to speak cogently. "We had some more items just now," he huffed, "that are relevant to this discussion."

"If this makes you last even longer, my stallion," she said dreamily, "discuss on."

"We seem now to be in a state of assumed consent," he said, while feeling his dick swell to its maximum. "You didn't ask me to dive your muff. You ordered me."

"Good point." She felt him stretch her walls, which got wetter. "I think, within our planned fun times, that can be in effect, with no offense. B-but, uhhh, an order, can still, be re, refused."

"And a refusal, will be accepted, w-without, argument. Yeeeaaaggghhh!"

For a few seconds the bed was louder than either of them.

She grabbed his buns, thrilling to their sculpted firmness, and steered him while he pistoned. Her breasts shuddered and nipples tightened, but what she felt most was her vaginal orgasm, which outvoted all other sensations in her body, and made her holler in a way that wasn't at all refined.

He grunted and wheezed, brain on tilt, gripping her sleek sides, as ever pursuing the pointless desire to get more of him into the condom, and in turn into her, because if her heat and slickness and strength were this amazing here, they must be even better deeper. Then that lizard-brain logic drained away in a surge of dopamine, as his genitals also drained.

The lovers stopped moving. There was another time interval.

She rubbed his back. She stroked his hair. She kissed along his jawline, then moved her lips to his. This kiss was sweet and languid.

She said, "Please get out."

He stretched his torso to comply.

They maintained most of their contact through condom removal and wipedown.

"Here's another item," he said, stroking her cheek. "You're on the pill. We're exclusive. Do we still need scumbags?"

She sighed. Then she said, "That was an impatient sigh. Sorry. The answer is, I still need them, so you do too."

"Because?"

"Because the pill ain't perfect, Bub. If we go suspenders and a belt, I can get past most of the anxiety. Is the sex really blah for you when you're wrapped?"

"A video of the past several minutes would show that there was nothing blah about what I felt. But, bareback, I'd feel even more."

She propped up on an elbow to lean over him. "You remember how, when we got together again after the month apart, I said I gave you my heart, but not my uterus?"

He smiled. "One of your best lines."

"Getting pregnant still really scares me. It would throw off everything I've planned. I don't want just to get out of debt, I want to get ahead before I think about having kids." She sniffed. "And, damnit, maybe I will give you my uterus. But can it be at least two years from now?"

His eyes widened. "Laura, really? You'd..." He turned his head away, mouth open. Then he looked at her again. "Yes, absolutely, that can wait. Three years, five, whatever. That's way past what I was thinking about, as a narrowly focused male. Forget bareback. I don't need your suspenders and belt to be sexy lingerie. And...I hope, someday, when you decide about your uterus, that I'll be worthy of it."

She laughed, while misting up. "Awww, ya big lug!" She grabbed him by the ears and smooched him. "Mwah!"

Then she repositioned to put her head at his crotch. Lifting his withered prick, she said in mock pity, "Ohhh, does the poor penis not get enough contact with a lady's luscious insides?"

"That about sums it up," said Don, putting his hands behind his head.

"Well, we can't have the penis going somewhere else for that." She lowered her mouth and took inside all of his cock, and both balls.

Laura's 'refinement' wasn't entirely a pose. She had definite likes and dislikes, and to the latter group she consigned what she considered tasteless or gross. She exaggerated this when Don yanked her chain about it, and they had fun playing off each other. But when it came to putting his spent putz in her mouth, any expressions of disgust were belied by her obvious enjoyment. Don was a grower, and Laura was pleased by the fact that he was therefore also a shrinker. She had unmanned him to this extent with her vagina, while he had toiled for her ecstasy, and now she lavished upon his nice soft genitals the lusciousness of her insides. Also, unlike with every other lover she had, she liked the mouthfeel (if not the taste) of his jewels, and relished her power to restore their size and strength.

"Another, item, to consider," said Don, challenging himself to stay on topic, "Is what we do, for ourselves, during sex."