I stretched languidly in my bed as the morning sunlight filtered through my curtains. Another Monday in New York City. Another week of deadlines, client meetings, and being the only woman in an apartment with three very sexually active men. I smiled to myself, feeling the pleasant soreness between my legs from Daniel's unexpected visit to my room last night.
My name is Lily Chen, I'm 25, and I live in what most people would consider an unusual housing arrangement. I've been here for eighteen months now, and it's been the most liberating experience of my life.
I checked my phone: 7:15 AM. James would be up already, probably making coffee in the kitchen. Michael would still be asleep--he never started work before 10. And Daniel was likely already gone for his early morning gym session before heading to Wall Street.
When I first heard about the arrangement from Michael, I thought he was joking. A flatshare where the female tenant pays significantly reduced rent in exchange for being sexually available to the male tenants at any time? It sounded like the plot of a porn video, not a real living situation in Manhattan.
"It's completely consensual," Michael had explained, clearly uncomfortable discussing sex with his childhood friend but wanting to help me find affordable housing. "James started it two years ago. The rules are clear, and everyone respects boundaries. But yeah, the girl basically agrees to be... available. Whenever."
I'd been skeptical but desperate. New York rent was crushing me, and freelance graphic design wasn't exactly making me rich. After meeting James and seeing the gorgeous three-bedroom apartment that would normally cost triple what he was asking me to pay, I found myself intrigued rather than appalled.
"So I can be taken whenever, wherever in the apartment?" I'd asked James directly during my interview, surprising even myself with my bluntness.
James had smiled, his blue eyes assessing me. "That's the arrangement. You'd have your own room, but any of us can enter at any time. In common areas, you're always available. We don't ask permission, we just take. But," he'd added, "your physical safety is paramount, and if you're on a work call or meeting a deadline, we respect that."
I'd signed the contract that day. I'd always had fantasies about being used, being taken without preamble. And the financial freedom the arrangement offered was too good to pass up.
Now, eighteen months later, I padded naked to my en-suite bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard movement in the apartment--James was definitely up. I smiled at my reflection, admiring the cherry blossom tattoo that curved over my shoulder. My body had become an instrument of pleasure, both for myself and my flatmates.
After a quick shower, I decided to skip clothes entirely. It was a hot June morning, and besides, being naked saved time. That was the beauty of our arrangement--the honesty of it, the lack of pretense.
I made my way to the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. As expected, James was there in just his boxer briefs, his muscular back to me as he prepared coffee.
"Morning," I said, moving to the refrigerator.
James turned, his eyes appreciatively taking in my naked form. "Morning, Lily. Sleep well?"
"Very," I replied, bending over perhaps more dramatically than necessary to grab yogurt from the lower shelf. I heard James's sharp intake of breath and smiled to myself. That was another thing I loved about this arrangement--the power I still held, even as the "available" one.
I straightened up and turned to find James directly behind me, his boxers now tented with his obvious erection.
"I've got a meeting in an hour," he said, his hand already sliding between my legs, finding me wet. I always woke up aroused these days, my body conditioned to expect sex at any moment.
"Plenty of time," I replied, setting the yogurt on the counter and gripping the edge as James pushed into me from behind without further preamble.
This was how mornings typically started in our apartment. No dating rituals, no seduction games, just straightforward sex when the desire arose. James's hands gripped my hips as he established a steady rhythm, his thickness stretching me pleasantly.
"Fuck, you feel good this morning," he groaned, one hand moving up to cup my breast.
I moaned in response, pushing back against him. The kitchen counter was cool against my stomach as James increased his pace. This was what I loved--being taken for someone else's pleasure and finding my own in the process.
"You're so wet already," James murmured, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Were you thinking about this when you woke up?"
"Maybe," I teased, arching my back to take him deeper. "Or maybe my body just knows what it's for now."
James chuckled, the sound transitioning into a groan as I deliberately clenched around him. He responded by sliding his hand from my breast to my throat, applying just enough pressure to make my pulse quicken. This was a dance we knew well--he understood exactly how much pressure I enjoyed, how the slight restriction made every sensation more intense.
"God, the view from here," he said, his free hand sliding down my back, tracing my spine. "Your ass taking my cock... I could watch this all day."
I whimpered as he slowed his pace, drawing out almost completely before pushing back in with agonizing deliberation. Each stroke was measured now, designed to build tension rather than release it. The hand at my throat moved to my hair, gathering it and pulling just enough to arch my neck.
"Please," I gasped, my fingers gripping the counter edge so hard my knuckles whitened.
"Please what?" James asked, his voice rough with desire but still controlled. That was James--always in command, even when lost in pleasure.
"Harder," I begged, trying to push back against him, but his grip on my hip held me in place.
"Like this?" He slammed into me suddenly, the force pushing me against the counter.
"Yes!" I cried out, the pleasure sharp and immediate.
He established a punishing rhythm then, each thrust hitting perfectly deep. The sound of skin against skin filled the kitchen, punctuated by our increasingly ragged breathing. James reached around to rub my clit, his fingers moving in tight, knowing circles.
"I want to feel you come around my cock," he demanded, his breath hot against my ear as he leaned over me. "Show me how much you love being used like this."