The landlord showed up at my door on the first of the month, same as always. Thick arms crossed over his chest, keys jangling on his belt. "Rent, Jake. Youre two weeks late again."
I let him in. The apartment was small, one bedroom, and he filled it with his bulk. Straight guy, married, always smelled like motor oil and cheap aftershave. Id been short on cash for months, but I had something else to offer this time.
"Look, I cant pay cash," I said, stepping close. "But I can make it worth your while."
He frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
I dropped to my knees right there in the living room. My hands went straight to his belt. He stiffened, tried to step back, but the couch was right behind him. "Get off me, kid. Im not into that shit."
I didnt stop. I yanked his zipper down and pulled his cock out. It was thick, already half-hard from the surprise, heavy in my hand. "Just let me suck it. You dont even have to do anything."
His face went red. "Im married. I dont do cock. Put that away."
But he didnt push me off. His cock twitched when I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a slow stroke. I leaned in and licked the head, tasting salt and skin. He grunted, a low unwilling sound, but his hips shifted forward an inch.
"Fuck stop," he muttered, but his cock was getting harder by the second. I opened my mouth and took the head in, sucking slow and wet. His hands landed on my shoulders, not pushing, just holding on like he didnt know what else to do.
I worked him deeper, letting my tongue slide along the underside. He was fully hard now, thick and veined, stretching my lips. I bobbed my head, making it sloppy, spit running down his shaft onto his balls. Every time I swallowed around him he let out another reluctant groan.
"This is wrong," he said through his teeth. "I dont let guys suck my cock."
I pulled off for a second, stroking him with my fist. "Your cock says otherwise. Its leaking for me."
He looked down, saw the clear bead at the tip, and cursed. I licked it off and went back down, taking him to the back of my throat. His fingers tightened in my hair. He wasnt pushing me away anymore.
I reached up and cupped his balls, rolling them while I sucked.
His breathing got rough. After a minute he started rocking his hips, fucking my mouth in short, jerky thrusts like he couldnt help it.
"Goddamn it," he growled. "This doesnt mean anything. Just finish it."
I stood up, wiped my mouth, and turned around. I shoved my jeans down and bent over the arm of the couch, ass up. "You can fuck me if you want. No one has to know."
He stared at my hole, cock still out and shiny with spit. "Im not fucking a guy."
But he stepped closer. His big hand landed on my ass, spreading me. I heard him spit into his palm and felt the wet head of his cock press against my entrance. He hesitated, breathing hard.
"Just the tip," he said, voice tight. "Thats it."
He pushed in slow. The stretch burned, but I pushed back, taking him deeper. He swore again, low and dirty, and sank another inch. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck, youre tight," he muttered. "This is so fucking wrong."
He started moving anyway. Short thrusts at first, then longer ones. His cock dragged over my prostate and I moaned. That seemed to flip a switch. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, burying himself to the balls.
"Shit," he gasped. "Im fucking a guys ass. Im actually doing it."
He fucked me harder after that, raw and fast, the couch creaking under us. His balls slapped against me with every thrust. One hand reached around and grabbed my cock, jerking it in time with his strokes. He was breathing like hed run a mile, still muttering that he wasnt gay, that this was just once, that he needed to come.
I clenched around him and he lost it. He buried himself deep, cock pulsing as he shot inside me, hot and thick. The feeling pushed me over too. I came on the couch cushion, cock jerking in his fist.
He stayed inside me for a long minute, breathing against my back. When he finally pulled out, cum leaked down my thigh. He tucked his cock away without looking at me.
"Rents covered this month," he said, voice hoarse. "Dont tell anyone."
He left without another word. But two weeks later he was back, knocking on the door again, keys in hand, already half-hard when I let him in. He didnt pretend to resist the second time. He just bent me over the kitchen table and fucked me until we both came, raw and filthy, like hed been thinking about it every night since.
By the third visit he stopped saying it was wrong. He just walked in, locked the door, and told me to get on my knees and suck his cock like I owed him. And I did, every time.
