22. Roommate 5 (7)
“Can I take a photo?”
His voice is so soft, like it might vanish if he steps back even a little. I can tell at a glance there's no one around, but hearing him whisper like that sends a weird thrill through me. No, the real issue is what he's asking.
“P-Pphotos... my face can't show, so no...”
“I'll shoot from the neck down, no face. Promise.”
Just like I thought earlier, even if he did something way dirtier, it'd be fine... but he's only asking for a photo, and he'll even hide my face. No matter how I look at it, he's not a bad guy. Sending nudes to a stranger is scary and humiliating... but since he's not bad, what's the harm? That thought creeps in. Plus, imagining my shameful pics in the hands of someone I just met today makes my lower belly clench tight.
Just the face hidden... a photo or two... should be okay, right?
I have to leave how he shoots it entirely up to him... and even that feels like handing my body over to a man, a delicious betrayal that doesn't feel bad at all.
I steel myself to nod—then a brilliant idea flashes. I grab the trash bag I set down, tugging open the tightly knotted top that Yeji tied.
If I empty this out...
I flip the now-empty black bag right over my head.
“N-Now... you can take photos...”
A choking, foul stench assaults my nose. It's the kind that makes me think the food I just ate might come right back up. But Yeji's words flash through my mind, sending electric shivers over my skin.
'Trash bitch.'
Just like she said—I'm a trash bitch now. Not content with stepping out naked, I dump a used trash bag over my head and offer myself up for pics. Truly trash-worthy.
Every time that contemptuous word echoes in my head, excitement surges. My mind goes blissfully white. My waist trembles without me realizing.
“Taking them.”
No countdown, no warning—just click. The shutter catches me off guard, my body twitching instinctively. And it's not just once. I thought it'd stop at one or two, but the clicks keep coming. Click, click, click.
Even through the plastic, the camera flash strobes, tension coiling through me, chills racing over my skin. What if people see the light and come running? But that'd feel good too. Do I really want to get caught and end my school life? But this dizzying pleasure...
Hot breath fills the bag fast, heating up, intensifying the nauseating smell. Yet the thrill doesn't fade. Each shutter snap, each proof of my perversion captured by a stranger, makes my lewd hole twitch.
You know what might happen to those photos, and you're just handing them over?
The question echoes inside me. But no answer comes. Thoughts chain together, reason blurring, prickles of pleasure tickling my whole body. A tiny moan slips from my parted lips.
I forget everything, lost in the moment—like hurling myself into ecstasy.
I stretch my index and middle fingers into a V-sign. A pose anyone might strike for a photo. Except I'm naked, with a filthy trash bag on my head, hands pressed to my chest sides—that tiny difference.
At this angle... not just my thigh-soaking slut juices, but proof I'm a pervert who loves this.
Proof I'm a filthy trash slut who gets off on being photographed. ...I want them to see me that way.
I can't control where these pics go, but I want everyone who sees them to know instantly what a pervert I am.
I spread my legs for a lewder pose—then footsteps echo from afar.
My body jolts in shock. Excitement vanishes, replaced by creeping horror swallowing me whole. I knew someone might come. But nothing had happened, so I'd let my guard down. In an open outdoor space anyone could pass through, blocking my own sight with black plastic... Stupid, even if it's to hide my face.
I yank off the bag—far off, a flashlight beam sways closer.
Something slimy from the bag clings to my hair, but no time to care. Dorm guard, probably. Does he patrol here? What do I do? Heart pounding wild.
Too open—no hiding spots. Even the guy flails in panic ahead of me, which makes me more frantic.
Glancing around, something catches my eye. There—perfect hiding spot.
I wave the guy away frantically, then dive into the trash heap, scrambling deep into stacked papers. Lucky—a gap just for me. But no breather; rotten stench stabs my nose. Food waste bin right next to me? Can't even breathe.
Ugh, gonna puke.
Saliva pools, stomach twisting, but I can't leave. Run and get caught... stay put.
I stifle retching gasps. Talked big about being trash, disgusting slut—now buried in actual garbage.
The stench and tension choke me, but it feels fittingly pathetic for me. Through trash gaps, I see the delivery guy bolt away clothed—he'll be fine if spotted. Just don't catch me like this. No excuse for such lewdness. If found... that light hits me. My naked body exposed to the guard.
That'd excite me insanely... but he's around the dorm forever. Too risky.
Trash bags and paper cling disgustingly to my skin. Late spring night, yet damp chill sticks. Breathing brushes my chest tips against paper, scraping nerves. Can't move or rustle—endure the gross tactile torment of trash groping me.
Like filthy garbage molesting my tits. Objects don't move, I do—but it feels like I'm the victim. ...The rough scrape on my stiff nipples feels good. Ravaged by mere trash heap—total ruin turns me on huge.
I clamp my mouth to stifle moans. Guard's light nears. Footsteps amplify silence—even tiny cockroach skitters audible. One moan and I'm done...
Tingling fingertips from tension. Please, just pass by. Don't want to be caught.
But I'm already a photographed pervert—hiding this desperately? Too late?
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. Wish I could stop it—can't.
Guard at the heap now. Light sweeps—grazes my body. Breath stops. Eyes squeezed shut, waiting. Any second, he'll yell, curse me out.
That'd thrill me... but no. Can't expose. Strangers are one thing—this guy's different.
Dry swallow—Did he hear? Fleeting panic fades.
Want to stand. Offer myself to the light, show everything. Let the filthy trash-hiding pervert bare all...
Crazy sudden shift, but surging anticipation soaks my box, echoing the whisper in my heart.
Feels good. End-of-world good. Can't hold back. Fuck it. Just a little...
Eyes closed, I slowly rise from the heap. Haa, all exposed. Trash rustles behind. Can't open eyes—terrified he'll be right there, staring in contempt.
Hands grope down as remembered—bare feet hit asphalt unnoticed, trash shedding.
Probably fully visible now. No bag on face—guard knows exactly who, where I live. No other early dorm girl to confuse with.
Endless shame torments. Ruin crashes into uncontrollable pleasure, echoing through me.
“Hnnngh...! Hah, hnng...! Nn... ah...!”
Dizzy fall into abyss floods my body. Just as imagined—terrifyingly good. Caught, ruined, and it feels amazing. No excuses, known to him, all shown... bliss...
Waist twists broken, spurting lewd fluids. Gonna cum... cumming while caught!
Beyond imagination—horrific ecstasy whites my mind. Cumming hard, wondering: Now what? Police? Dorm kids swarm my slutty state? Pervert girl rumors?
But no reaction from the guard ahead. No shout, no gasp.
...?
Puzzled, I peek—nothing. Empty heap, just lewd pervert me. Light fades far off—guard passed oblivious.
Not caught? I geared up to show all... nobody saw. Lucky. Kept this filth hidden.
Strength drains; I slump to the ground. Relief and disappointment tangle—can't tell them apart.