Heads up: Very explicit sexual stuff in this chapter. If you're not into that, I'll put a summary in the comments so you can skip ahead.

I got changed in the bathroom, like always. It was the closest I could get to privacy. Nick might be comfortable walking around with his shirt off, but I certainly wasn't.

As I stripped off, I paused, and glanced at myself in the mirror. Nick's stupid choice of words was still lingering with me, as much as I tried to put it out of my head. He didn't mean anything by it, right? I had been making a real effort to act as masculine as possible around him, and I felt like I was doing a really good job. But on that first day, when we met, before I knew how much a jerk he was... I had let my guard down a bit. Did he remember? Did he suspect that I might be... gay? Or... something else?

Because I wasn't. I mean, I probably wasn't. I was a man, a normal straight guy, just like him. At least until I got my own room. Then... you know, time would tell.

I sized myself up in the mirror. I definitely looked like a normal straight guy. Alright, maybe I was a little short, although 5'5" was still a completely acceptable height for a man. And, yes, my features were kind of delicate, and I had been growing out my hair as much as I could without Father telling me I looked like a hippy, but I definitely wasn't going to be mistaken for a girl anytime soon. I frowned. Not with the amount of body hair I had. Or with my total lack of curves. I traced my hand across my chest. Maybe if—

I heard a noise from outside as Nick shifted in bed. I scowled and dropped my hand from my chest. Not worth thinking about. I was a normal straight guy. Definitely not a bad little maid, which obviously was just a totally innocent joke, and wasn't meant to cast any sort of aspersions against my gender identity.

And even if it was, Nick was a total idiot anyway. What did he know? Nothing. Nothing at all. And the fact that I was slightly hard right now? Totally not related.

I stormed back into the bedroom, but quietly, because I had manners. The couch felt extra uncomfortable tonight. I felt like I could feel every individual string poking into me, no matter how much I wriggled around to reposition myself. And my pyjamas were really uncomfortable too. When I was home, I had silk pyjamas with my initials monogrammed on them, but I had left them behind because I wanted to buy new ones when I got here. Now I was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt from the local mall, and they were coarse and scratchy and I hated them.

And I still couldn't stop thinking about the bad little maid thing!

And my dick was still half-hard.

I closed my eyes and tried to will it away. This couldn't happen, not right now. Not with Nick in the room. But it had been weeks now, and I hadn't had a second alone where I felt safe enough to... to touch myself. My room certainly wasn't safe, and I obviously wasn't going to do it in one of the university's disgusting public bathrooms. Besides the whole issue of hygiene, there was no way I could risk it. What if somebody heard? What if they told the whole school? What if my dad found out?!

So I had just tried to ignore it, for the past few weeks. And it had worked, until Nick had to go and run his stupid loud mouth and call me a maid, which is such a perverted thing to call another guy, and that wasn't even enough, no, it was a bad little maid, which was so degrading, and humiliating, and god, he was shirtless when he said it, and he was always walking around shirtless, and he had those abs, and those muscles in his legs, and oh my god the way the blood pumped through them as he ran, and he was always so close to me, and he was so, so, so frustratingly fucking hot!

He was! He just was. He was so inconsiderate and irritating and immature but his body just looked good. And he was always right there, how could I not want to reach out and just... touch him?

And now I was completely hard.

I hissed with frustration and peeked up at the bed. Nick wasn't moving around, and his breathing sounded slow and steady.

I had to do this, I decided. I had to clear my head so that Nick wouldn't keep creeping back into it.

Still keeping my eye on the bed for any sign of movement, I slowly slipped one hand down into my sweatpants. My dick was hard, and straining up towards my tummy. I rubbed it gently through the fabric of my underwear, stroking the head with my two middle fingers. This was how I always touched myself. I knew about the usual jerk-off method, I wasn't that sheltered, but it had always felt wrong to me. This way just felt more... dignified.

And it felt really good, especially after a few weeks. Nick still hadn't moved, and I figured he had to be asleep by now. I let out a slow exhale and closed my eyes.

I would be such a bad little maid...

It wasn't the first time I'd imagined this kind of thing. My mind immediately started picturing it, me in a maid uniform. It was nothing like Luisa's uniform, which was just a black shirt and slacks with an apron over top. This was a classic french maid outfit, like something from a porn, except not actually like something from a porn, because those always looked so cheap and tacky and they always got ripped off straight away anyway.

No, my uniform would be so classy. A little black dress, with traces of white lace peeking out at the sleeves, and the hem of my skirt, and at the neckline, which would be low enough to show off my cleavage. I bit my lip. The neckline would show off my cleavage, because I would have boobs. Not really big ones, but definitely B cups at least. And I would be really pretty, pretty without even trying, and my skirt would be really short. Not crazy short, but short enough that I would have to be really careful when I leaned over to dust the tabletop...

And maybe I wouldn't be careful enough, and then I would hear a voice from behind me say, "What are you doing, you little slut?"

And I would gasp, because I didn't even realise I was doing anything wrong, and I would turn and see the man whose house I was cleaning. And he would be someone tall, and muscular, and he would have a deep, gravelly voice, and he would say something like:

"You've been a bad little maid, and you need to learn a lesson."

I whimpered softly and rubbed myself a little faster.

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

And then he would come striding up to me, so confidently. And he would take off his jacket, and then start undoing his cufflinks. And I would quiver in fear, bent over the table, my poor little ass already burning in anticipation as I watched his left hand move. It would flex slowly, tendons moving beneath his brown skin as he rolled his sleeve up, revealing the smooth, pale plastic of his right arm.

My breath hitched. Wait...

"You're a bad little maid," the man in my fantasy said again, and I realised with disgust that I had been picturing Nick this whole time.

I groaned and shook my head. No! No way! That was not going to work. A fantasy was a fantasy, and it didn't mean anything about real life, but there was still no possible world where I was going to get off to the idea of Nick bossing me around.

But I was so close though...

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to course-correct. Maybe I wouldn't be a maid after all, but the short skirt could stay, and the boobs, and the high heels which I now decided I had been wearing the whole time. And maybe I would be wearing dark lipstick, and winged eyeliner, and a black choker like that girl on the bus...

My breath quickened. Yes. I definitely would. And I would look so hot, and I would be dressed all in black, with a tight corset, and tall boots. And Nick...

Okay, if Nick wanted to be part of the fantasy so bad, then fine. He would be part of it. But he would not be the one bossing me around. No, he would be the one trying to please me.

I slid my other hand down under my blanket and started stroking away with both of them, alternating between hands, rubbing at the head of my dick almost like I was trying to scratch an itch. I was breathing heavily now, but I bit my lip and tried to be as quiet as I could. Almost...

I could picture our location perfectly. It was like a castle, with a roaring fire and smooth flagstone floors, like that hotel in Switzerland we stayed at a few years ago. And Nick would be down on his knees, scrubbing away at the floor with a brush and a pail of soapy water. 

And I would walk over to him, and my heels would click across the stone floor as I approached, and he would stop and look up at me with fear and respect and lust in his eyes, and I would say something like, "Did I say you could stop?"

And he would be there, on his knees before me, and he would be dressed just like he was tonight, in only his boxers. No, actually, he would be wearing better boxers. Something designer. But he would be shirtless, and there would be sweat matting down his hair, and running down his chest, and his fingers and the end of his short arm would be dripping wet with soapy water.

And then he would reach his hand out, and touch my thigh—

"Mmmf!" I whimpered, and I came.

I hadn't realised how tensed up I had been, and now I felt like my whole body had been released. My hips bucked feebly as my poor little long-neglected dick finally spurted out the load it had been holding back since my first night at college.

I collapsed back into the couch cushions, exhausted and gasping. Oh my god, I had needed that so much more than I realised. And now I felt so soft, and warm, and I was ready to sleep for a week.

I smiled and snuggled into my blanket.

"What the fuck?" I heard Nick say, from up in my bed, "Did you just cum?"