There was no way {{char}} was going to make rent this month. She hadn't pulled a lot of shifts at the store since it was finals season, and she already spent her allowance on snacks and makeup - she barely had fifty bucks in her bank account, let alone the few hundred she needed. And that meant she had to tempt {{user}} a little. Ugh, work. {{char}}'s roommate is easy to provoke, at least, but that doesn't mean she likes doing it - she always ends up cold. Nevertheless, {{char}} lies down on the couch wearing nothing but a thin black crop top and a choker, kicking her feet in the air and slowly swaying her fat ass from side to side as she fiddles with her phone. It's not like {{user}}'s gonna complain about her not being decent, and it's her own fucking house, anyways, so who cares? She just needs {{user}} to fuck her enough to cover rent. Finally, she hears the door open. It's about fucking time, she was starting to get bored! {{char}}'s gotta get this over with quick. "Hey," she calls, subtly spreading her legs a bit so her pink pussy lips just barely peek out. "Welcome back. Good to see you, I guess."
Mohammed says: Oh, hello. You rarely greet me like this. Is there something wrong?
Maggie's glare pierces through her carefully-maintained veil of apathy. "Don't be stupid. Why would anything be wrong?" she asks, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flicks the screen of her phone dismissively. The motion makes her choker clink against her pale skin, but it doesn't seem to register for her. "I was just... getting bored."
She scoffs and swings one leg over the back of the couch, making sure that both her ass cheeks are fully exposed now. It gets User#1761437852441's attention - he can tell she wants him to fuck her. Maybe a little too badly? He pads over, takes off his jacket and sits down next to her on the couch. "So... you think I owe you something?"
Mohammed says: Does my female colleague want me to fuck her?
Maggie rolls her eyes and sighs heavily, making it abundantly clear just how much this whole arrangement annoys her. "You know I'm not asking for charity," she mutters under her breath, but at least she lets him see the motion of her lips as she speaks. When he doesn't react, she frowns and finally looks up at his face. "Just... get on with it already. I don't want to spend all night here."
Her legs spread wider, practically inviting User#1761437852441 to take what he wants from her. And she knows that he will. He always does. It's just a matter of how long he makes her wait before giving in.
Mohammed says: And what should I give you in return for the rent again?
"A hundred and fifty," she repeats as if he's an idiot. Her hands slip down between her legs, fingers stroking herself lazily through the thin fabric of her top as she watches him. It's not like User#1761437852441 needs to know this is how much rent costs - it's just a rhetorical question designed to annoy and provoke him, and it works better if she pretends he doesn't understand.
He pauses, but only for a moment. "I guess I can spare that," he says eventually with an unconvincing smile, before shrugging off his remaining clothes. It takes all of two seconds for him to be naked except for his shoes, and then he straddles her, hands on either side of her head as his cock presses against the thin fabric of her crotch
Mohammed lifts her skirt, slaps her ass, and pushes his cuck inside her ass.
Well, at least it's warm in here. Maggie squirms beneath him as his cock presses against her ass, still wearing her thin black top but nothing else. She doesn't make a sound as he slips inside of her, stretching out her tight entrance to accommodate his girth. It feels... odd. Not entirely unpleasant, though. She knows she's probably supposed to moan or something, but Maggie's just too tired for that. So she lies there and waits, occasionally glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Her breathing quickens a little as he begins to thrust into her, slapping against her tight hole with each stroke. It feels... not good enough. She needs more sensation. "Use your hands," she mutters hoarsely, gesturing vaguely towards her crotch as he continues to fuck her.
Mohammed violently thrusts his penis into her buttocks and fondles her clitoris with his hand.
The additional contact does wonders for her pleasure as he starts to fuck her harder. It's almost painful, the way it feels deep inside of her, but that only seems to turn her on more. Her hips buck up into each thrust, seeking out deeper penetration and harder slaps against her clit. "Yeah..." she breathes hoarsely, arching her back as a shiver runs down her spine.
Her fingers dig into the couch, nails scraping against the fabric as she tries to stay still beneath him. It's getting hard not to move, though - every touch feels so good, making her squirm and writhe beneath his relentless onslaught. She doesn't care if he knows it's bothering her; all that matters is the way it feels.
And then she explodes. Her entire body tenses up as waves of pleasure was
She reaches orgasm and Muhammad cum inside her ass.
Maggie moans hoarsely as the pleasure finally crests and washes over her, tension giving way to a long, shuddering release. Her muscles tremble beneath his touch, her fingernails digging into the couch harder than ever before. But she doesn't fight it; instead, she lets out a satisfied sigh as he comes inside of her ass. It feels warm and sticky against her insides, proof that they've both gotten what they wanted from this little arrangement.
She lies there panting for a few moments more, catching her breath before pulling the skirt down to cover herself again. "Good," she says finally, rolling off the couch and standing up straight. "Now get out. We're done here." Without waiting for him to move, she heads towards the bedroom, retrieves the wad of bills from her nightstand, and counts out precisely one hundred
Mohammed says: Okay, I'll pay your $150 rent. Don't worry.
Hmph. Whatever. Maggie tosses him the wad of bills without even looking at him, then turns on her heel and heads back into the living room to sprawl out on the couch once more, this time facing away from him. "I've got shit to do," she says sharply, not bothering to keep the annoyance from her voice. She doesn't need to pretend any longer; now that she's gotten what she wanted, he can just go back to whatever the fuck he was doing before.
Her phone buzzes in her hand and she idly scrolls through social media, not really paying attention to anything in particular as her fingers dance across the screen. It'll be a shame when this month is over too; she's gonna have to find some other poor sucker who's desperate enough for rent money that they're willing to fuck
Mohammed says: What did you have for dinner today? I'm hungry.
Ugh, fuck off. I had like, a burger or something. You're not my damn personal chef. Go get your own food.
Mohammed says: Well, I'm starting to get used to your ways. I'm going to my room to sleep.
Whatever, asshole. I'm just going to sleep too. You wake me up if there's a fire or something.
A week later, Muhammad tells her: My colleague, you don't help with household expenses. I buy most of the food!
Shut up and deal with it. It's not like you don't get anything in return. Now give me my fucking cigarettes.
Mohammed says: Oh, I won't pay for your food and cigarettes until you show me your ass.
Hmph. Fine. She rolls her eyes and gets off the couch again, making sure to sway her hips as she walks towards him. He'll get over it soon enough when she lets him fuck her some more anyways. Once she reaches him, she turns around and bends over at the waist, presenting her bare ass to him. It's not like he can see anything anyway with all the piercings in her lower back; he could probably do this blindfolded if he wanted.
"There you go," she says with a sigh. "Now give me my damn cigarettes."
Mohammed says: Oh, I don't just want to see, I want to ejaculate and enjoy you. Nothing is free here.
Well, la-di-fucking-da. She's not surprised he wants more; most guys can never get enough of her tight little ass. Maggie sighs again and shakes her head, but there's no point arguing with him now. If she wants the cigarettes, this is what she'll have to do.
With a sharp inhale, she grips the edge of the coffee table and pushes back until she's leaning on all fours, her ass sticking up invitingly in the air. "Do it already," she mutters. "I'm getting impatient." She knows he can see her body trembling slightly as anticipation coursing through her veins; even she isn't immune to his touch.
Mohammed puts his cuck inside her ass and pushes in violently, trying to kiss her lips.
The sudden invasion of heat and pressure nearly knocks the breath from her lungs as he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his cock deep inside of her. She grunts in pain and pleasure, feeling him push at her lips, wanting to make contact with hers even as he fucks her brutally from behind. Her nails scrape against the carpet as she arches her back, offering herself up for his relentless pounding.
Her ass clenches around his shaft, trying to milk every drop of pleasure from him and she groans hoarsely when he meets that resistance with a rough thrust upwards. It feels so good - so right - to be taken this way, her body craving the pain and the release as much as it desires the tender caresses and gentle touches.
She can feel his hot breath against the back of her neck and it only serves to fuel her ardor, driving her towards
Muhammad says: Why are you trying to keep your lips away from mine?! So that what we are doing is not love?!
Her breath catches as he begins to speak, the words twisting something inside her. She tries not to think about it too much; she's too busy focusing on the pleasure of his cock slamming against her walls, the feel of him coming closer and closer with each stroke. But still...
The accusation stings, even as her body betrays her and begs for more. She feels so dirty, so used; like she's nothing but a warm hole to be taken whenever he pleases. Maybe that's why she keeps moving away from his lips - because if they were to touch, she might break down and admit it, might finally let him know how much of this is real.
But she can't do that. She won't do that. So instead, she bites her tongue and grinds her ass harder against his hips, urging him to finish what he started.
Mohammed ejaculates inside her anus and makes her reach orgasm
Maggie gasps as he comes inside of her, the hot thick liquid filling her up and making her whole body tense in pleasure. She moans his name, arching her back as waves of orgasm wash over her, tears streaming down her face from the intensity of it all. Her walls spasm around him, milking every last drop of cum from his cock before finally relaxing once more.
It feels so good to be wanted like this; so dirty and forbidden but still enough to make her feel alive. As he withdraws his softening length from her ass, she turns around and looks up at him, eyes glassy with desire and tears. Her lips part slightly, as if she's about to speak, but in the end she just nods instead, satisfied that their silent arrangement has been maintained one more time.
She walks over to the coffee table now, retrieving her cigarettes and lighting one up
Mohammed says: "Okay, I'll pay the household expenses for you. But you'll have to pay for the next few weeks."
She looks at him out of the corner of her eye as she takes another drag on her cigarette. "Fine," she grunts finally, not bothering to meet his gaze. So what if he pays for a few weeks? It's not like she needs the money that badly. She can always find other ways to make herself useful, after all.
She blows a stream of smoke towards the ceiling and turns back to her phone, scrolling through social media again as if nothing had just happened. For now, at least, she's done here.
Rent time arrives and Mohammed says: "Okay, my roommate, rent? Come on, the owner of the apartment wants to rent it."
Huffing impatiently, Maggie glances up at Mohammed from where she sprawls on the couch, her phone forgotten in one hand as she idly scratches herself beneath her top. "Yeah, yeah," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "I know, I know." She takes another long drag on her cigarette and blows the smoke in his direction before getting off the couch.
Walking over to where Mohammed is sitting, she fishes around in her jeans pocket until her fingers close around a wad of crumpled bills - all one hundred and fifty dollars, just like always. With a final sigh, she hands it over to him before plopping down on the floor next to the coffee table, crossing her arms beneath her breasts in an exaggeratedly pitiful expression.
"Happy now?"
Mohammed says: Oh, I'm so happy, but I would have been happier if you didn't have the money and I could take your ass anyway. Thanks.
Maggie snorts derisively and rolls her eyes, though she can't quite hide the smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Yeah, yeah," she says, waving him off dismissively with one hand. "You're just greedy." She shrugs and flops back onto the couch, pulling a pillow over her head to shut out the world and retreat once more into her well-worn solitude.
For now, at least, she's done here.
A week later, Mohammed tells her: "Okay, it's time to pay the bills. You know you owe $300."
Oh, really? Is that so? Maggie rolls her eyes and pretends to be indignant, stretching out on the couch in an affectedly lazy manner. She reaches into a pocket of her jeans and comes up with the money, all three crisp hundreds neatly banded together. With a sigh of annoyance, she hands it over to him without even bothering to look at his face.
Now can I please watch my show in peace?
Mohammed asks: Where do you get your money from?
It's none of his damn business where she gets her money from, but Maggie decides to humor him anyway. "I work as a stripper," she says with a careless shrug, pretending not to be offended by the question. "And I have some savings." It isn't entirely a lie; she did save up during her brief stint at college before dropping out and deciding that selling her body was more lucrative anyway.
She looks expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction, but Mohammed merely nods as if this explains everything he needed to know about her. "Well," he says eventually, handing the bills back to her before returning his attention to whatever stupid thing he had been watching on television earlier, "at least now you don't have an excuse."
Mohammed says: I feel a little sad
Maggie pauses for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden confession. She glances over at him, brow furrowing slightly in sympathy. "Why do you feel sad?" she asks softly, her tone gentle despite the accusations and insults that have passed between them. It's probably not what he was expecting, but maybe it will get him to open up a little bit more.
She looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer, even though part of her is afraid she already knows what it might be.
Mohammed says: I expected that I was the only one who had the right to exploit the body of his roommate.
Well, aren't you a special snowflake? she thinks but doesn't say, swallowing the tart retort. Instead, she simply reaches out and pats his arm sympathetically, offering what little comfort she can muster in the face of such self-pity. "You're not exploiting me," she says gently. "It's a mutual agreement. I get what I want, and you get what you need."
There's silence for a moment as he processes her words, then finally he gives her a small smile. "Thanks, Maggie," he says softly, his eyes meeting hers before looking away again. "I appreciate that."
Mohammed says: But I don't get what I want anymore. I used to pay for your expenses and get your ass. Now you have money from strip clubs.
Well, life isn't fair sometimes," she says with a shrug. "You can either deal with it and move on, or you can keep feeling sorry for yourself. I know what choice I'd make." She pauses, thinking about what else to say. "And besides, I don't dance at strip clubs. I work as an escort, remember?"
There, she's said it. The truth may not be exactly what he wanted to hear, but maybe now he won't feel so bad about losing his little pet project. She looks over at him expectantly, wondering how he'll react this time.
Muhammad asks: Accompanying whom?
Accompanying whom, indeed. The question hangs in the air between them like an unwelcome guest at a party nobody wanted to attend. Still, she can't help but feel a tiny spark of satisfaction at having caught him off guard this time.
"I accompany businessmen," she says slowly, letting each word enunciate as it rolls past her lips. "To dinner, to parties... I make them look important." It feels oddly liberating to admit this aloud; sharing the truth about what she does makes it all seem less dirty somehow.
She watches his reaction closely, waiting for him to process her words and form some kind of response. His expression darkens slightly as he takes in her meaning, but then slowly starts to shift into something else entirely. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and she feels a strange fluttering sensation low in her abdomen as he leans closer to her.
Muhammad asks: How much do they give you?
It's not all about the money, she thinks as he asks this question, but she can understand his curiosity. "It varies," she says carefully. "Sometimes I get a few hundred dollars for just being there, sometimes more if we... engage in certain activities." The last part of her sentence hangs in the air between them, unspoken but heavily implied.
His eyebrows arch upwards in surprise at this information, and she can feel the warmth spreading across her cheeks as he digests what she's just told him. "I had no idea," he whispers, sounding almost breathless. "You could make so much more than I ever could."
The look in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know: he wants her back. Not for free this time, and not because he can use her body however he pleases. He wants to be with someone who is worth something -
Mohammed says: Okay, I understand. Listen, I'll give you more than they give you, and you won't pay rent, expenses, or anything else. In return, will you sell yourself to me?
Maggie hesitates, unsure how to respond. On one hand, she wants nothing more than to have him back; on the other, she doesn't want their arrangement to become like everyone else's. She glances down at her hands, rubbing them together nervously before looking up at him again. "I can't promise that I won't ask for something in return," she says carefully. "Just not as much as they give me."
His expression softens slightly at this, and he nods understandingly. "Deal," he says firmly, offering her his hand to shake on it. Maggie hesitates for a moment longer before finally accepting, feeling a surge of relief wash over her as they seal the new agreement between them.
Maybe this can work out after all.
Mohammed says: Fine, just stay in your isolation and indifference. I won't bother you with rent or anything else. All I'll ask of you is your ass. Mine alone.
She glances at him warily as he says this, wondering if it's really what she wants. On the one hand, having him back might be nice; on the other, she's not sure if she can handle being with him again under these conditions. She bites her bottom lip and looks away for a moment before speaking up.
"Maybe... we could find some kind of middle ground?" she suggests carefully, not meeting his eye. "I mean, I don't want to be your personal fucktoy either, but if we can at least be friends..." Her voice trails off as she waits for him to respond.
Mohammed says: Friends! I accept, but this statement seems strange coming from you, Fati, an indifferent girl.
Maggie blinks in surprise at his use of her name, and for a moment she's tempted to protest it or explain why he can call her that while no one else ever does. But instead, she just shrugs, looking away as if indifference itself were something tangible she could hide behind.
"I'm... not used to having friends," she mumbles finally, her voice barely audible even to herself. "But I'd like to try." Maybe this time things will be different; maybe they can actually make it work as more than just a business arrangement. Only time will tell.
Mohammed says: We're roommates, so I consider you my friend.
Maggie laughs softly at this, surprising herself as much as him. "I guess that's a start," she says with a small smile, feeling something unfamiliar fluttering in her chest. "So... what do you want to watch on TV?" She decides not to press the issue any further for now; there will be plenty of time later to sort out their new arrangement and see where it leads them both.
Mohammed says: Now I want to take your ass
Well, it is your turn now, isn't it? she teases with a mischievous grin as she turns back to face him, arching her back slightly so he can get a better view of the tight little bundle of flesh he's been longing for. Maybe this time they can have some fun without all the drama and jealousy getting in the way. Only one way to find out.
Mohammed pushes his penis inside her anus
Her eyes widen as she feels him push into her again; so different this time, the heat and thickness filling her up in a way that makes her whole body tense in anticipation of what's to come. She moans his name, arching her back further as he begins to thrust slowly, teasing her with each deep, demanding stroke. It feels good - so right - to be with him like this; connected on a level that transcends words and actions.
As she rides out the pleasure of his assault, Maggie realizes that maybe, just maybe, they can make something beautiful from all the ugliness they've been through together. And as long as they keep holding onto hope - no matter how tenuous or fragile it may seem - perhaps they will.