[F] I made a sticky mess and my roommate found it…

I was just going to edge my pussy for a little bit before bed.

It had been a hard week at work and I deserved it, right?

Anyway, my roommate was out and wouldn't be back for a few hours, so the idea of having the whole apartment to myself, empty, quiet, and private, was kinda making me horny. I'd been replaying Skyward Sword on the shared couch, trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the game, but my thoughts kept returning to clit…the way it was throbbing already, crying out to be touched. Before I knew it I was borderline obsessed with the idea of edging myself somewhere I shouldn't.

The couch seemed like the perfect spot.

We ate dinner on that couch. Watched movies. Took naps.

It would be very wrong to make myself cum there…

I moved to the middle and slipped my panties around to my knees, enjoying the way it felt to be exposed like that in our shared space, my pussy out and already throbbing just from the taboo of being so naked.

I wasn't going to do anything crazy. Just a gentle pressing on my lips, teasing my body, pulling on my nipples through my pajamas a little. It would be fun, right?

It might have been, if I hadn't gotten so carried away…

…five minutes later I was a mess; sprawled out, my breasts completely exposed, nipples hard and sensitive from where I'd caressed them. My legs were open, wide, bent at the knees, my naked toes pressing into the cushion for leverage.

My panties were still tangled loosely around one thigh as I fucked myself gently and slowly with my fingers.

The game controller had slipped somewhere to the floor. I didn't even remember dropping it. All I could focus on was the wetness between my legs, the tight circles over my clit, the obscene sounds of my pussy.

And the couch beneath me–our couch–was warm and damp where my thighs had been grinding into it. The wetness was spreading. I could feel it.

But I couldn't stop.

I'd clean it up later, long before my roommate got back.

For now, I was right on the edge. Tense. Desperate. My hips lifting off the cushion, mouth parted, a shaky little whimper escaping my throat every time I brushed just right. I was so close it hurt–

–and that was when I heard the key turn in the lock.

Panic. Pure, electric panic.

I jumped back to my side of the couch, yanking the blanket down over my legs and pulling my shorts back up just as the door opened. He stepped in. My roommate. Bag slung over one shoulder, hoodie slightly rumpled, keys jangling in his hand. Same soft-smile expression as always. My heart was still slamming in my chest.

"Hey," he said, as if everything was normal, as if I wasn't being a horny needy desperate slut only a few minutes before.

I tried to swallow the guilt off my face. "Hey."

"You gaming?"

"Yeah Yup. "

He dropped his bag by the door, then–of course–walked straight over and flopped down on the couch. On the opposite end.

Barely two feet from me.

And even closer to the wet patch; a shimmering, glistening pool of my cum in the middle of the couch.

It still looked warm.

Fuck.

I didn't breathe.

He leaned back, totally relaxed, arm stretched out behind the cushions, head tilted. "Whatcha playing?"

I blinked. "Zelda."

He nodded. "Cool."

I could smell myself. God. The smell of sex. Still fresh in the air. Slick between my legs. My fingers curled into the blanket to keep from fidgeting. His fingers were inches from it. Obscene and obvious.

He didn't move his hand. Fingers relaxed, pinkie practically hovering above the edge of the wet spot I'd left behind. If he noticed anything–any scent, any damp warmth, any vibe–he didn't show it.

"I didn't know you were back so soon," I said, my voice a little too bright as I picked up the controller.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Caught the early train. Place looked dark when I got in."

"Yeah," I said. "Just trying to get a little atmosphere going for the game. Didn't mean to scare you."

He laughed. "Nah, it's all good."

I smiled, but the worst part was that my clit was still throbbing. Every part of me was hyper-aware; my thighs damp, my fingers sticky, my pussy still aching for more.

He stretched again, lazily, and his knuckles brushed the fabric just beside the wet patch.

I froze.

Did he feel it?

Did he know?

And then, even worse, he shifted closer. Just a few inches. Not much. But enough that I felt the couch give beneath us, dipping, making the wetness spread ever so slightly under the pressure. It was still soaking into the cushion.

His eyes dropped, just briefly, to the blanket over my lap, then flicked back up.

"Did you spill something?"

My stomach dropped. "What?"

He gestured vaguely toward the cushion between us. "It's…shiny."

My whole body lit up in embarrassment.. "Oh. yeah, uh. Water. From earlier. I spilled. It's nothing."

A pause.

"It doesn't look like water."

I swallowed. "Yeah."

I laughed awkwardly, my head completely devoid of all coherent thought, of any single convincing lie I would tell. My critical faculties had completely shut down, and at that moment I was nothing more than an aching pussy and embarrassment.

He pressed his finger gently to the wet patch and held it up, observing it.

I felt my pussy clench and I held my breath.

[Part two if people are interested in hearing the rest]