Anonymous' stories
01 - Coming Out of the Closet
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By Anonymous
Friday, December 7th 2001 - 09:56:16 PM
Coming Out of the Closet
Freshman year in college was a year of experimentation for me. First time on my own . . . well, sort of. I lived in the dorms, and I had a roommate. I'm an only child; I've never had to share a room . . . and anyone who has lived in the cubicles they call dorm rooms at the UO will understand what I mean when I say that in some ways living there was a taste of freedom, and in other ways it was restrictive as hell.
But I had a great roommate. She was a quiet sort, generally oblivious to the world, and took up so little space that we had few problems. She was also very organized. If I wanted some peaceful time alone I needed to look no further than the schedule she posted above her desk. At a glance, I knew when she would be coming home from work or going to class . . . and I could count on that sweet girl being home at all other times.
Time alone . . . well, maybe that's not being entirely truthful. I wanted to be alone with my boyfriend, really, learning the beauty of a parent-less love life. I met him almost as soon as I got to college, through some friends of mine. I had shed my "boyfriend back home" for a college guy. It was a heady feeling, being in love and on my own.
It was great. He encouraged me to try new things and damn the consequences, live life to the fullest, all that. Needless to say, this attitude extended into our sex life. We had fun. We both had fantasies, and together we lived them out. Within our means, of course. Living in fear that our roommates could walk in at any moment made it a little difficult, but bless her heart, my roommate had that schedule on her wall. My college boy had that very male time-sense - there's always enough time for "it."
So one early evening when we decided to play, we were feeling very experimental. Reason told me that it was 6:45 p.m. and my roommate was supposed to get home from work at seven . . . anything other than some mild-mannered making out seemed out of the question. But one look at the boy convinced me that with the extra fifteen minutes it took her to walk from work - well, the sooner we started, the more time we'd have!
Frenzied passion ensued. I was completely undressed and he was down to his boxers. At the same time we thought it would be fun to tie me up. Efficient and erotic; his hands would be free to roam. But what to tie them up with? His clever mind raced until his eyes landed on my hanging terry cloth bathrobe. Of course! The strap! I giggled at his ingenuity as he began to intricately wrap the thing around my wrists. He tied a knot. He tied another one. What thoroughness. Truth be told, I was kind of losing the mood because it was taking too long, but what the hell. I sighed to myself as I began to get into the moment. And we played. I was suddenly very glad his hands were free to roam, as he breathed along my neck and I closed my eyes. I was sitting up with my hands tied behind my back, and I leaned against the wall . . . and heard some steps down the hall.
My room was across the bathroom, so I was used to hearing footsteps coming perilously close to my door during heated moments . . . I glanced at the lock. Just as I closed my eyes again, reassured, I heard keys jangling and quickly enter the lock. I mumbled incoherently, "Just a sec!" but my innocent, oblivious roommate didn't hear a word. I jumped up.
"Damnit, untie me!" I whispered wide-eyed.
"I can't!" he said, absorbed in pulling on his pants and shirt. My mind jumped around the room. Put clothes on? Hide first? I really didn't have many options, as I wriggled my wrists, trying to make my hands useful. There was really only one option. I leaped into the huge closet, and maneuvered my still-tied hands so they pulled the door shut behind me. My ever-gallant boyfriend did nothing to help.
From the darkness of my closet, I heard my roommate walk in. "Oh, hello," she acknowledged my boyfriend with her usual happy blankness.
"Hey, Sarah, what's up, just changing in here, you know I kind of like these closets they're so big you could just hide in them I think this is going to be my special hiding place you should try it it's fun," I babbled, thinking that if I could get away with casual conversation, being in the closet wouldn't seem weird at all.
"Uh, okay," she laughed as I heard her shuffle over to her bed directly across from my closet going about her routine - sitting by her desk, propping her feet up and turning on the TV. Comforting, the way nothing fazed her.
I noticed that amidst all the frantic wriggling, my hands had nearly come free. Hmph. All that twisting and knotting, only to find out that he wasn't a very good knot tier after all. So I pulled some clothes off the hangers behind me, taking care not to bump the door open. I emerged, "So anyway that was fun, I think I'll have to do it again, don't you have to go to work, hon?" I said, in between nervous giggles.
All the while I thought my sweet innocent roommate didn't have a clue, that my boyfriend and I hadn't seen each other naked yet, and that was why I was "changing" in the closet. Of course.
I've wised up since then, and found that having a room of my own makes fantasies more fun. He and I are good friends, and the next year she stayed in the same room, but switched to my bed. That year, she went out with the "boyfriend back home" who met her through me, and probably ended up with some stories of her own to tell.
Anonymous
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Anonymous' stories
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Anonymous : 01 - Coming Out of the Closet (M/F)
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