Paying The Rent - Sex Stories

Paying The Rent

... flows almost seamlessly into the cleavage of her ass and her asshole lies nestled in its cozy niche. There is a hissing sound that I can’t quite explain, until I feel a gust of warm air venting against my palate and I’m choking on a cloud of foulness in my mouth. Then Carol’s foot comes up against my shoulder and while I sail through the room and land on my back, I realize I just got farted into the mouth. ‘This is ridiculous. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Tell Paul to come down.’ Carol is on her feet. There is a foul, slightly bitter taste in my mouth. ‘Paul?’ Edna knows exactly who Paul is. So do I. ‘Yes, Paul. Mr. Benson from eleven. I need to get fucked by a real man.’ ‘But what about Mr. Peterson? You can’t just…’ ‘I don’t care. I need a real cock up my cunt and I need it now. Go get him. Now!’ Edna hesitates for a moment, then rushes out the door and up the stairs. Carol lights another cigarette, then she steps up to where I’m still lying on the floor. Puffing smoke, she looks down on me. ‘I want you out by noon tomorrow.’ ‘B-but…’ ‘No buts. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess…’ Then Edna comes in with Mr. Benson from eleven in her wake. Benson is a gym instructor who in his college years was a promising quarterback, but never made it into the NFL. He is forty now and despite a protruding beer belly still quite a lady’s man. ‘Oh, Paul. Great. Come here, you stud. I need you.’ Benson looks at me lying naked on the floor Carol’s feet. But he is not shocked. He ...

... grins, then walks over to Carol’s side. ‘Sure, lovely. What can I do for you?’ ‘Would you mind showing Mr. Peterson here what a real dick looks like? You see, somehow he has come to believe that this is as big as they get.’ She’s pointing down at my lap with the hand holding the cigarette. Ash flitters down and settles in my pubic hair. Benson is flashing that grin again. I have seen that grin in movies. ‘No problem. Always glad to be of service, Mrs. Johnson. You know that.’ Benson looks down at me, grins his grin again and slowly unzips his pants. He reaches inside his fly and pulls out a thick dark sausage. When he lets go of it, it slightly jiggles while it hangs down with a rounded arc. It must be over six inches in length, and about an inch and a half thick. Even in this flax state, it is larger than mine in full deployment. ‘Impressive, isn’t it? Wait till you see it when it is hard. Come on, Paul, get it up. Or aren’t you happy to see me?’ ‘No problem, Mrs. Johnson, no problem at all.’ Benson cups his dick with is right hand and starts to rub it up and down. The almost black foreskin retracts and reveals a purple glans penis. His dick starts to grow in length and thickness, until it stands out a full nine inches from his fly. ‘Don’t be shy, Mr. Peterson, take a close look. You might never see anything like it again in your life.’ Carol prods me in the ribs with her foot without taking her eyes off Benson’s proud phallus. I don’t feel compelled to oblige, but at the ...