Your Rent is Due - Now it’s Paid

This chapter happens when Sophia and her husband run into Sophia ex boyfriend. She dated him when they were both 18, was one of the first boyfriend's she lived with. Told in her ex-boyfriend's voice. This chapter contains power dynamics, gay sex, bi sex, threesomes, and leads into her early hotwifing adventures prior to meeting her now husband. Please leave a comment and vote if you like it, your feedback inspires me to write more.

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The backyard was dim, lit by a bonfire tapering down, the low, flickering firepit lit the skin of couples huddled in sleeping bags. Red solo cups in hand. Staring in a gaze.

You could smell it... sweet smoke and something sharp beneath. A summer night that felt like it was buying time.

I hadn't seen Sophia in years.

She was across from me now, legs folded beneath her, a blanket draped over her lap. Her husband, new to me, but not recent... sat beside her, beer in hand, posture easy. She looked good. Soft in the face, sharper in the eyes. That look people get when they stop pretending to be who others expect and just start being.

There was a lull in the group chatter. Some people peeled off for more drinks or a joint out by the garage. Someone asked how we knew each other.

Sophia smiled, sipped her wine.

Then turned to me.

"Want to share the story of what happened when we were younger?"

She said it like an invitation... or a dare.

Her husband's brow lifted slightly. Curious. Still smiling.

"This is my ex boyfriend, we dated for a few years when we were 18, until..." Sophia shared with her husband, then made I contact with me.

"... Until about 20. We went our separate ways."

I leaned forward, setting my glass down by my feet.

And I started.

I saw Frank first while taking the garbage out. He was bent over a flower bed near the front of the building, sleeves rolled up, sweat darkening the back of his collar. He worked slow, heavy movements, like everything he did had weight. Late 60s, maybe older. Silver hair, skin like leather, arms veined and thick from decades of hard labor. The kind of man who didn't speak unless he had something worth saying.

I nodded as I walked by, I met him when I dropped off my first cheque.

I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of my parent's house when I turned 18. I applied to over 30 places, but this was the only place I got approved to sign a lease. It was basic, old, but clean. It was all my job could afford, but I planned to leverage rent payments to build up my credit score and maybe move to another place.

He looked up, eyes shaded beneath his cap. Held my gaze just long enough.

I was wearing grey joggers. No underwear. My cock was hanging loose, still fat from the gym. I hadn't even realized how obvious it was until I bent over to drop the garbage and caught him looking, his stare fixed on the swing of my bulge, then slowly dragging up to my ass. I felt it. Not shame. Not quite pride either. More like... electricity.

"You work out?" he asked, standing, wiping his hands on his pants.

"Yeah," I said. "Couple times a week."

He looked me over again, head tilted slightly, eyes lingering on my thighs, the way the fabric clung to the curve of my ass.

"You don't waste it."

He grabbed two bags of mulch and grunted. "Give me a hand."

I followed him around to the maintenance door, carrying bags up the side stairs. The sun hit hard that day. My shirt clung to my back. I could feel my cock half-stiff from nothing but his silence.

When we reached the door, he looked over his shoulder.

"You drink?"

"Yeah."

"Come in. You earned one."

Inside, the air was cooler but smelled thick, cigarettes, floor cleaner, sweat, and something heavier... like damp fabric and old sex. His unit was simple. Bachelor-style, tucked behind the janitor's closet. One twin bed, wood-paneled walls, tools on the floor near the baseboards. The kind of place a man lives in when he's been alone a long time.

Frank cracked two bottles and dropped onto the bed with a grunt. He spread his legs wide, like he owned the air between them.

That's when I saw it.

The silhouette of his cock down one side of his pant leg. Resting heavy. Thick. Long. Not even hard, just always like that. Like it lived in a permanent state of full. My mouth dried out. My stomach knotted.

Sophia's husband shifted. Still silent. His fingers flexed around the neck of his bottle.

Sophia's eyes hadn't moved from mine. She didn't blink. Just listened. Like she'd heard it all before. Maybe dreamed of it.

I went on.

He noticed me staring. Didn't flinch. Just took a sip and said, low, "You like dick, don't you."

Not a question. A fact.

I didn't say a word.

He stood up. Undid his belt. Let it fall out.

My knees nearly buckled.

That cock looked unnatural. Like something stolen from a bull. Uncut, veiny, thick as a beer can. The head was flushed dark, resting against his thigh with a weight that made it look alive.

He stepped forward, towering over me.

"Get on your knees."

I dropped. The moment my lips touched the head, I tasted everything... sweat, piss, salt, work. He hadn't cleaned up. He didn't need to. I was the one who needed to prove myself.

I opened wide, took him slow, but he was too much. I gagged, eyes watering, spit running down my chin. He grunted low. His hand grabbed the back of my head gripping onto my hair, holding me steady.

"Yeah... take it. Let me see what kind of rent boy you really are."

My cock throbbed untouched. I moaned around his shaft, tongue swirling the base, trying to open wider. I wanted to show him I could handle it. That I wanted to be useful.

Suddenly, he pulled out.

"Get up. On the bed."

I obeyed, climbing on all fours. The second I was on the mattress, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my joggers and yanked them down in one hard tug. My ass bare. My hole twitching.

I asked "Are you sure, I just worked out and haven't showered."

He didn't go straight for his cock. No. Frank dropped to his knees behind me and buried his face in my ass.

"I like it dirty." Frank grunted.

The first swipe of his tongue made me cry out. It was rough, wet, greedy. He spread me wide and ate like he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. His face pressed in. Sucking, licking, spitting. His beard scratched the inside of my cheeks, soaked in spit and sweat. I arched my back, pushed into him, lost all shame.

"Fuck... Frank... oh my god..."

"You've got a perfect fucking hole," he growled between licks. "Tight little rent hole."

I whimpered. My cock was leaking onto his sheets.

"You want this old man's cock, boy?" he said, tongue flicking the rim. "You want me to ruin this ass?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Please..."

He stood. Tore the condom open with his teeth. I heard the click of lube, the rustle of pants dropping.

And then the head was there. Thick. Pressing.

No one was talking. The night had gone still. A breeze moved through the trees. Sophia leaned into her husband's side, hand on his thigh now. Not to calm him. Just... anchored.

Her husband's jaw was set. But he wasn't pulling away.

He was listening.

Hard.

He didn't tease. He pushed. Hard. One slow, brutal stroke until I felt him inside, deep, wide, stretching me past the edge of sanity.

I clawed the sheets.

He began to fuck me.

Slow. Deep. Brutal. Like an oil jack. Each thrust steady and relentless. My body jolted. My hole burned. My cock dripped.

"You want your rent covered, don't you?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes," I moaned. "Please..."

"Let me blow my cum in you and you're set for thirty days."

The filth of it broke me.

I wasn't just fucking. I was earning.

I began to talk. Moan. Beg.

"Please, Frank... fill me... cum in me... I need it... I want to pay our rent... my girlfriend doesn't know I let you fuck my ass for rent..."

I reached back pinching the tip of his condom, tugging it until it snapped off.

"You're her provider, huh?" he growled. "But here... you're my fucking hole. You're my cum-dump fag tenant."

"Yes," I cried, "I'm your hole, your tenant whore... use me..."

He slammed in raw. Fast. Deep. The bed shook. I could barely breathe.

"You want Daddy's rent check in your ass?"

"Yes... yes... please..."

"You want it dripping out of you while she kisses your mouth goodnight?"

"Yes, sir..."

He shoved in to the base. Roared. I felt the heat flood inside me. His balls unloaded into me. Spurt after spurt. I whimpered as his cock twitched, locked in place, stuffing me with rent.

He didn't pull out right away.

"April's Rent is paid," he muttered, panting against my back.

Then he pulled out slowly. His cum immediately began leaking down my thigh.

"Next time," he said, tucking himself away, "you do my laundry too."

I thought I wouldn't see Frank again for a month.

It was four days until the end of the month. Frank made his presence aware.

I walked through the building, catching glimpses of Frank in the stairwell or outside hosing down the pavement, his shirt pulled tight over his belly, his cock always, always, casting a heavy outline down one leg.

I spent the month trying to fuck my girlfriend missionary, memories of his cum leaking out of me.

Guilt so loud I started to confuse it with arousal.

So when I saw him outside the laundry room that Friday, shirtless, holding a ring of keys, his eyes locking on mine without a word, I followed.

He walked ahead of me, his boots echoing against the concrete basement floor, passing the furnace, past the fuse boxes, until he stopped at the boiler room door.

The key turned. The door creaked open. No cameras. No sound, except for the distant hum of pipes and the low groan of the water heater.

He stepped in. Left the door cracked.

I hesitated.

He turned slowly, met my gaze. "Get the fuck in here."

I stepped in. The door shut. Locked.

It was hot. Damp. Smelled like iron, oil, and old socks.

He grabbed my shirt and shoved me hard against the boiler tank. The metal hot against my back through the fabric.

"You been thinking about me?"

I nodded.

"Speak."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir... I've been thinking about you."

He grabbed my face in one hand. "You know I fucked another hole yesterday."

My stomach dropped. "Okay."

"Some desperate whore from 2B. Her man was late on rent."

He let the silence hang.

"But she didn't beg like you. She didn't moan like you."

He unbuckled his belt, slow.

"She didn't gag on my cock like it was her last meal."

My knees gave out. I dropped.

His cock was already half-hard, swinging heavy. The heat of the boiler made everything feel more raw, more real. I wrapped my lips around him, tasting sweat and steel. I let his cock slide across my tongue, from root to tip, sucking him clean.

He groaned low.

"I should record this. Let your girlfriend see how you really earn your keep."

I moaned around him. My hands gripped his thighs, desperate for more.

He pulled out suddenly.

"Turn around. Bend over that stool."

The stool was metal, rusted, unsteady. I braced myself, hands on the top, knees spread. He pulled my joggers down, then grabbed both cheeks and spat directly onto my hole. The spit dripped down slowly as he crouched behind me.

Then I felt it... his tongue.

His fucking tongue.

Lapping, flicking, pushing into me with obscene slurps, louder than should've been possible in a mechanical room.

"You come back down here to pay your rent again?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I know my rent is due."

He licked deeper, faster, shoving two fingers in beside his tongue.

"You're addicted, aren't you?"

"Yes," I gasped, pushing back into his face.

"You want Daddy's load in your guts so you can feed your girl pasta and pretend you're a man?"

I almost came right there.

Then suddenly, silence.

He stood.

And shoved himself in.

No warning. No condom. No mercy.

The head punched into me with force, the shaft following. I cried out. The metal stool wobbled beneath me.

He grunted and slammed forward again, pounding me into the steel over and over. I could hear my own wetness. Hear it. Slop and suction.

"You like being my cum bucket in the basement?"

"Yes, Frank. I love it. I want it."

"I should bend you over the dryer next time. Let the building hear you."

"Please..."

He fucked harder. Meaner.

"You want my rent? You take every drop. But this time..."

He yanked out.

I gasped.

Then he grabbed my hair and pulled me down to my knees again.

"Open up."

I opened wide. He shoved his cock in... still slick, still steaming from my asshole.

"Lick it clean."

I gagged, but didn't pull back. My lips slid along his shaft, tasting myself, filth and salt and sin. I moaned like a back-alley hooker.

"Atta boy," he said, thrusting lazily. "ATM as a ATM is how I mark my favorite tenants."

He held the back of my head and let loose, one long growl as he emptied his load into my mouth, still tasting my own ass. I swallowed as fast as I could, cum splashing against the back of my throat, some dripping down my chin.

He pulled out, wiped the head across my lips.

"You're a good tenant," he said, zipping up. "But you're still behind on utilities."

He opened the door.

I stepped into the hall, still dripping. Still dizzy.

And there, at the top of the basement stairs... was her.

My girlfriend.

Just standing there, holding a laundry basket.

She looked down at me.

I froze. My lips still wet. My heart stopped.

"Hey," she said. "You scared me. What are you doing down here?"

"I... was helping Frank," I said, voice cracking.

She blinked. Smiled. "That's sweet. I didn't think you even talked to him."

Frank walked out behind me, grinning.

"He's one of the good ones."

I nearly collapsed.

May 30th. I hadn't texted Frank. Hadn't seen him. My girlfriend and I had dinner with her parents, came home, watched Netflix. She was lying on the couch in pajama pants, legs draped over my lap, scrolling Instagram like nothing had changed.

Like her boyfriend wasn't a cum-hungry tenant slut who got fed in the boiler room.

I excused myself. Said I needed air.

My heart was already racing as I opened the side stairwell door. I didn't know if he'd be there. I didn't even text.

But I knew he would know.

The concrete stairwell smelled like dust and iron. There were three floors in our building. Not many tenants used this side... it was always a little too dark, a little too cold. The light flickered.

And there he was.

Frank.

Leaning against the railing two floors up, smoking. Eyes locked on me before I even saw him.

"You're late," he said, flicking ash.

"I couldn't get away."

"You're always mine. You don't 'get away.' You get summoned."

He walked down the steps slow. Deliberate. Every footstep echoing off the walls.

By the time he reached me, I was already hard.

He reached out. Cupped my balls through my sweats.

"You've been saving up for me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your girl getting any of it?"

"No."

He smirked. "Good boy."

He flipped me around and pushed me in towards the cold cinderblock wall. Took a finger in his mouth, pulling it out, coated in saliva he slid it deep into my hole.

"Don't make a fucking sound."

With his other hand he yanked my sweats down, pulled his finger out, buried his face in my hole.

I nearly screamed.

The cold air on my skin. The feel of his beard. His tongue slapping, swirling, pushing deeper with each pass. He placed two fingers from each hand inside me, combined 4 fingers total spreading me wide as he moaned like he was eating dinner.

It was disgusting.

It was holy.

I gritted my teeth, eyes rolled back, legs trembling.

Then he stood. Unzipped. His cock was hard, thick, red, engorged with blood. He spit in his palm, stroked it once, and shoved it in raw.

I saw stars. My legs collapsed as I rested onto his cock, taking him deeper inside me.

He covered my mouth with one huge hand and started fucking me like a man who didn't care if the neighbors heard.

"I should fuck you until your girl starts wondering why you wince when she hugs you."

I whimpered against his palm.

"You like being my secret cum dump, don't you."

I nodded.

"You like my old cock buried in your ass while she's upstairs watching her shows."

I nodded.

He pounded harder. The stairwell echoed. Pipes groaned. I swear I heard a door creak above us.

He didn't care.

"You're not a man," he growled. "You're not a boyfriend. You're just a hole. My hole."

I was drooling. I couldn't breathe.

"Say it."

"I'm your hole," I gasped. "Yours."

"My rent bitch."

"Yes."

"My little backdoor cum vault."

"Yes, Daddy."

He grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me up against the wall, still buried in me.

"You know I could ruin you?"

"Yes."

"Fuck you in front of your girlfriend while she begs me to stop?"

"Yes..."

"You'd let me."

"Yes, please..."

He groaned, loud, primal. Then his cock started twitching.

"Take it."

He shoved deep and came hard, stuffing me full in the dim stairwell light. His grip on my neck stayed firm as he emptied every drop into my guts.

Then he pulled out.

I dropped to my knees. Instinct.

He shoved his cock, slick from my hole, into my mouth.

I cleaned him like the good little tenant I was.

As I licked the shaft, I heard it.

Footsteps above.

Someone descending.

Frank zipped up without urgency.

He looked down at me.

"Run.... Consider May Paid."

I bolted, pants half up, cock leaking, ass dripping his cum, heart slamming in my chest as I darted through the exit door and up the back stairs, praying I didn't bump into my girlfriend or some other tenant on the way back.

I didn't sleep that night.

I smelled him on me.

I tasted him in my mouth.

I came twice in the bathroom... crying... whispering his name, my hole stretched, puckering.

The month flew by, June 30th. I was starting to look forward to paying my bill.

The laundry room was brightly lit. Fluorescent hum, washers churning. Sunday afternoon. Safe. Ordinary.

I came down with a basket full of sheets and towels... and buried in the bottom, a pair of Frank's cum-stained briefs I had stolen. I didn't tell my girlfriend. I told her I'd do the laundry while she had a bath.

She kissed my cheek. Trusted me.

I slipped out, hard already. Half from guilt. Half from what I needed.

When I entered the laundry room, Frank was already there. Standing by the sink. Smoking, even though it said not to. Shirtless, belly out, sweat staining the waistband of his work pants.

"Couldn't stay away," he said without turning.

"No."

"June's rent is due."

I nodded.

"Good."

He flicked the cigarette into the sink and walked over. I dropped the laundry basket. My hands trembled.

He looked me up and down.

"You been thinking about how loose I'm getting you?"

I swallowed.

"Yes, sir."

"How you're starting to open for me like it's nothing?"

I nodded.

"How you moaned last time when I shoved three fingers in without lube?"

My cock throbbed. I didn't speak.

"Strip. Face the machines."

I obeyed.

My joggers hit the tile. Shirt off. Ass bare. Exposed to the hallway behind the half-glass door. Anyone could walk in.

Frank stepped behind me and spat on his fingers.

I braced against the washing machine.

He started slow--two fingers. Then three. Then four.

No warm-up. Just depth. Pressure. Ownership.

I moaned into the sleeve of my shirt. My hole burned, then surrendered.

"You're getting addicted to this, huh?"

"Yes..."

"You love being stretched. Love knowing I'm reshaping you."

"Please go deeper..."

"Say it."

"Stretch me open, Frank. I want to be wide for you... empty unless you fill me."

He shoved in a fifth finger. My knees buckled. My eyes rolled back.

I felt him up to the knuckles. His fingers curved, exploring the walls of my body. Like he was searching for something.

"You're almost ready to take the whole fucking fist."

I whimpered. I wanted it.

Then, his fingers pulled out, soaking wet.

He stepped closer.

"You ever been pissed in before?"

My brain stalled.

"What?"

"I said..." He grabbed his cock, thick and veiny, uncut. "Have you ever had a real man drain his fucking bladder inside your used hole?"

"No..."

"You ready?"

I hesitated.

He grabbed my hips. Pulled me open.

"I don't wait."

Then I felt it. Warm. Steady. Violent.

Frank began pissing inside me.

I gasped. My mouth hung open.

The sound of his stream hitting my raw walls filled the room. Hot. Endless. Claiming.

"You're my toilet now," he said. "You take my cum. You take my piss. You take anything I give you."

"Yes, Daddy... fill me..."

"You love it. You sick little hole."

"I fucking love it..."

My cock was dripping on the floor. I hadn't even touched it.

Then, my phone buzzed on the laundry table.

I turned my head and saw it:

[Sophia] ❤️: "All good down there? Come back soon?"

I froze.

Frank saw it. Smirked.

"Answer her."

"What?"

He grabbed my neck.

"Pick it up. Put it on speaker."

I did.

"Hey..." I said, trying to sound casual.

"Hey babe," her voice came through. "You've been gone a while. Everything okay?"

Frank grabbed my ass cheeks, slapped them.

"Yeah," I stammered. "Just... took a bit longer to start the machines."

"What was that noise?"

"Oh, that was the laundry basket, I just set it on top of the machine.

Frank shoved two fingers back inside me. I gasped silently.

"Oh," she said. "Okay. Well... hurry up. I miss you."

"I'll be right up."

He kept the fingers in me until she hung up.

Then pulled out, wiped his hand on my shirt, and kissed my lower back once.

"Next time," he said, "you're gonna jerk off while I watch her FaceTime you."

I moaned. Shame rippled through me... and I came. Hard. Spilling across the front of the dryer without even touching myself.

Frank didn't speak.

He just looked down at me, leaking, dripping, shaking, and smiled.

"You're almost broken in."

July 31st. It was near midnight. My girlfriend had fallen asleep on the couch mid-movie, TV still flickering on her face, blanket tucked around her like a child. I kissed her forehead and told her I was grabbing a smoke from the glove box.

She mumbled something. Never even opened her eyes.

The parkade was still. Dead quiet. Just the hum of a distant light and the clink of pipes expanding in the cold.

I descended the stairwell slowly, heart pounding, jeans tenting. I didn't have any cigarettes on me.

I just needed to be near where he might be.

Where he had been.

I walked past the column near the south wall and stopped.

He was already there.

Frank. Silent. Waiting in the dark beside her Civic.

"Right on time." he said.

He stepped out from the shadow. Sweatpants on. No shirt. Covered in dust like he'd been working late. Or waiting.

"July's rent is due."

I nodded. His comments were repetitive, but I looked forward to him saying it.

"Pants down."

I obeyed. Cold air hit my thighs, my cock swinging free, already stiff.

He stepped close, no words. Grabbed the back of my neck, and spit directly into my open mouth.

I swallowed.

Frank took my cock in his mouth and sucked me off. Gobbling, slurping, aggressively swallowing my cock.

He then stood up, I dropped to my knees.

He unzipped. His cock slapped out. Heavy. Already half hard.

"Say thank you."

"Thank you, sir."

Then he grabbed the sides of my head and fucked my face like it was rent due ten minutes ago.

His hips slammed forward. The sound of gagging echoed against steel and cement. My eyes teared. My nose ran.

"You're not even a tenant anymore," he growled. "You're just part of the building now."

I moaned around his shaft, desperate for air, for more, for nothing.

When he finally pulled out, spit and drool stretched from my lips to his tip.

He grabbed my arm. Dragged me across the floor. Dust coated my knees.

Then he pointed.

"Bend over her car."

Her Civic. Silver. Clean. I had just washed it for her that morning. She'd been so thankful.

I laid across the hood, chest on the metal, ass in the air, bare.

Frank stepped behind me. Spit once. Spread me wide.

Then his fingers.

Two. Then three. Then four. Wet. Rough. Merciless.

"You're taking me easier every time," he muttered. "You want to be opened."

"Yes, Daddy..."

"You want me to ruin you here. On her fucking car."

"Yes... please stretch me for her..."

"You'd let me fist you if she asked, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

His fifth finger slid in.

I screamed into the hood, forehead pressed against the glass.

Then I felt it.

Hot.

Steady.

He pissed inside me.

"Rent's cutting close to being late," he muttered. "You don't just take cock. You take my waste."

I groaned. My hole fluttered.

He pulled his fingers out, then shoved his cock in, still wet with his own piss.

I took it.

Like home.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I froze.

He reached around. Pulled it out. Looked at the screen.

"Girlfriend," he said. "Wanna say hi?"

He answered it.

I panicked. Tried to reach.

He shoved me down.

"Hey sweetheart," he said smoothly. "It's Frank... yeah... he's just helping me check on a noise down here... no no, he's fine. I'll send him back up in ten."

Then he hung up.

And started fucking me harder. Piss slurping and gushing in and out of my ass while he fucked me.

"Now she knows we're together," he said, pounding into me. "But not like this."

He didn't cum inside me that time.

He pulled out, wiped his dick along the side mirror, and said:

"Rent's Paid. Next time, she's gonna see."

September 1st. It was the first of the month. I hadn't seen Frank to pay him for August yet.

Frank always collected rent in person.

Except this time, he sent a text.

[Frank]: "Bring the envelope. Both of you. 10PM. My unit."

I froze.

My girlfriend was across the room. Reading something on her phone.

I walked over. Gave her the message. Told her Frank was doing some kind of lease check. Inspections or updates. Whatever.

She shrugged. "Kinda late, but okay."

We went down together.

Frank's door opened before I knocked.

He didn't speak.

He looked her over once, then turned and walked back inside.

We followed.

He sat down in the single chair. Legs spread. That same pair of sweatpants. His cock already casting its long, familiar shape down one thigh.

"You brought August's rent?" he asked me.

I handed it over.

He didn't even open the envelope.

"You know this building runs on favors," he said to her. "Not just money."

She looked confused. "Okay..."

Then he turned to me.

"Show her."

My heart stopped.

"Frank..."

"Now."

I looked at her. She stared at me. Calm. Curious. Maybe even knowing.

I turned.

Faced away.

Pulled my pants down.

Bent over.

Revealed it all. My gaping hole.

Her breath caught.

Frank stood. Walked over. Pressed one massive hand to the back of my neck and pushed me lower.

"Your boyfriend's been paying me in this hole for months," he said. "Every time rent's due."

She didn't move.

Frank spit. Spread me. Shoved three fingers in. Then four.

I whimpered. As they slid in easily.

He looked at her.

"You didn't know?"

She said nothing. Just... watched.

"You want to see how far he goes?"

Still, nothing.

Then he grabbed my hips. Pulled me back.

And pushed his cock in.

I cried out while making eye contact with my Sophia.

He started fucking me right there, bent over in front of her.

He moaned. Deep. Possessive.

"You think he loves you?" he grunted. "Look at him. Taking me like a bitch in heat."

She stood still. Our eyes locked.

Watching.

And then... she spoke.

"Don't stop."

Frank grinned.

Slapped my ass.

"See? She gets it."

He kept going. Faster. Louder. I moaned. Cried. Came untouched.

And when he finally came inside me, she still hadn't moved.

She walked over.

Took the envelope off the floor.

And whispered in my ear...

"Next month... we pay together."

September 30th.

Frank texted both of us this time.

[Frank]: "My place. Now. I want to see who earns rent harder."

I read it out loud without thinking.

She didn't even blink.

Just said: "Grab the envelope."

"No, leave the envelope. Take off your underwear."

Sophia slid off her thongs under her summer dress.

By now, I had stopped pretending I was the one in control. She didn't ask questions anymore. She just followed instructions.

We knocked once. The door opened before our knuckles hit it twice.

Frank was sitting on his old couch, shirt off, legs spread, sweatpants halfway down already. His cock was draped lazily across one thigh. Half hard. Thick as ever. Already claiming space in the room.

My girlfriend inhaled when she saw it.

He didn't say hello.

Just nodded toward the couch.

"Sit."

We sat.

He looked at her.

"You know he's been my rent boy for four months."

"I know," she said softly.

"You like watching?"

"I do."

Frank smiled. Slow. Heavy.

"Show me."

She stood up.

Turned toward me.

And pulled her dress over her head, exposing her gorgeous naked body.

No bra. Her tits swayed as she walked towards Frank.

I froze as straddled Frank without a word, facing him, placing her hands on his chest.

Then she reached down. Grabbed his cock.

Lined it up.

And sat down.

All at once.

Her breath caught. Her mouth hung open.

"Fuck..." she gasped.

Frank grunted like he was stretching into his work boots.

I watched, frozen, cock painfully hard, hands useless, as his cock disappeared inside her.

She rocked her hips slowly, adjusting, moaning.

Frank just sat there, hands behind his head, letting her take him inch by inch.

"Jesus," she whispered. "You're splitting me open."

He said "You know he calls me daddy." Watching her face. Letting her do the work as she was getting more aroused with every pump.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I watched her get filled by the same cock that broke me month after month. Watched her body tremble the way mine did.

She started riding him.

Slow at first. Then faster. Her thighs slapped against his. Her tits bounced. Sweat built between them.

She looked at me, right at me, and said:

"Is this what you've been taking?"

I nodded. My throat tight.

She grinned. Then gasped.

Frank grabbed her hips and took over.

Started thrusting up into her. Hard. Deep. Brutal.

Her moans turned into cries. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

I watched him stretch her pussy like he did my hole, relentless, thick, owning every inch of her.

"You're both fucking built for this," he grunted. "Both of you take me like you're meant to."

She was shaking. Near tears.

"Cum in me," she begged.

"You want my rent check?"

"Yes. Fill me."

He shoved up, deep, and groaned.

His body tensed. His arms held her locked down as he pumped his load into her.

She gasped. Froze. Collapsed onto his chest.

Breathing heavy.

Frank let her sit there. Still filled.

Then turned to me.

"You watching?"

I nodded. My mouth dry. My cock leaking.

"Then get over here."

I crawled forward.

His cock slipped out of her slowly... her pussy swollen, stretched, glistening with his cum.

"Earn it," he said.

Sophia sat up, I placed my head under her butt and I took Frank's cum soaked cock in my mouth.

Tasted her.

Tasted him.

Tasted us.

I moaned as I cleaned him, running my tongue along the shaft, sucking the head, swallowing everything.

My girlfriend watched me. Her legs still spread across Frank's lap. His cum dripping out of her freshly fucked pussy onto his thighs.

When I finished, he leaned back.

Put one arm around her waist.

Looked at me.

And said:

"Rent's paid."

I didn't say anything else.

The story didn't need a tidy end.

Sophia's husband stared at the fire now.

Sophia looked at him.

Then at me.

And said softly...

"It was never just a phase."

He didn't answer.

But he didn't look away.

And in the silence, something flickered.

Not in the flames.

In them.

The three of us.

That same old heat.

Still burning.