Room For Rent [Part 3 - Flustered]

The first time he saw my breasts, it was a total accident.

In my defense, the weather was hot, very hot, and the heat always has the strange effect of diminishing my critical faculties. After a tortuous day of working on my laptop in the baking apartment, the sun had finally dropped behind the neighboring houses, leaving me lying face-down on my bed in the shade, the fan rattling on the windowsill. I grabbed my phone, opened my legs a little, and then hesitated. Peeking over the top of my screen, I checked my bedroom door. It was closed and the lock was twisted to the side. Perfect.

I believe they call it edging/gooning now, but to me, I always thought of it like de-stressing my body after a long day; taking some time to bliss-out to some illicit pictures, gifs, and videos, until I have no choice but to use my fingers.

And let me tell you, my body gets very stressed.

By the time I was finished, the house was dark and still. I looked at the clock. It was almost ten. I was thirsty and lazy and half-melted by the heat of the room and the heat of my orgasm. Without thinking, I padded into the hallway in just my panties, my skin still flushed and sensitive.

I was halfway to the kitchen when I saw him.

He was turning the corner, coming toward me, holding a plate with a sandwich on it. My stomach flipped, and for some insane reason, even in my panic, I noticed that the food looked delicious.

“Shit–” I gasped, stumbling backward a step, arm flying across my chest too late to do anything useful, only serving to push my breasts against me, bulging through my fingers and barely covering my nipples.

Jason covered his eyes. “Oh, fuck, Sarah, I’m so sorry, I–”

“It’s fine!” I shouted, realizing as I turned that my panties barely covered my ass, running back to my room in a way that was neither graceful nor dignified, my heart racing at the thought of him watching my butt jiggle with each erratic step, bare feet slapping against the floorboards.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I took deep breaths. I told myself it wasn’t that bad.

It was just my tits.

Who cares?

I cared! And the worst part was, I must have looked terrible! My hair was messy, my nipples were hard, and my body was flushed with sweat, my panties a little transparent and my pussy still slightly swollen from–

Fuck. I didn’t want to think about it.

YOU LIVE WITH SOMEONE NOW, SARAH, I chastised myself. YOU CAN’T JUST WALK AROUND THE APARTMENT WITH YOUR TITS OUT ANYMORE!

And Jason…

…Jason had seen it all.

Fuck and double fuck. How the hell was I going to look at him at breakfast now? We’d gotten into a nice rhythm of life since he moved in a few weeks ago, and I’d just ruined it by acting like a total slut, like I wanted to be seen by him, like I was flaunting my body…

I felt humiliated, but below it, buried somewhere deeper and more secret than the embarrassment, another feeling was growing; something hot and wrong and electric. I didn’t dare give it a name.

Instead, I climbed into bed, face still burning, my whole body buzzing. I switched on the TV for some background noise and scrolled my phone, trying to take my mind off it, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop wondering what he was thinking. Or picturing the look on his face the moment he saw my breasts, completely exposed and shameless and slutty and…

Fuck.

I buried my face in the pillow and let the fan hum away the silence.

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