She woke up to the sound of a sharp knock at the door. With eyes half closed and auburn locks mussed by slumber, the sleepy teenager slowly came to her senses and dragged herself out of bed. A second impatient, yet equally intimidating, knock reverberated loudly as she trudged across the diameter of her shamefully small student apartment.
Opening the door a slit to peek outside, she saw her landlord standing there with a smug, yellowed grin plastered to his unbecoming face. She didn't bother greeting him, just left the door ajar as she turned around and lethargically scuffled back to bed.
Flopping forward on the bed, she picked up her phone. It was slightly past 9AM, Sunday morning. She skimmed her notifications and messages, but determining there was nothing interesting that needed her immediate attention, dropped the device and rolled over on her side to face Steve, the landlord, who had invited himself in. She was wearing nothing but an over-sized white T-shirt that hiked up just high enough to reveal the perky underside of her round bottom.
Steve began undressing. It was their routine. Every Sunday morning, when most people were either sleeping in or getting ready for church, she got fucked by an awful man twice her age. How had she ended up in this mess? She had been stupid. Everybody in the building knew the landlord was a creep. There were ten dorms in the building and girls occupied eight of them, all of them attractive and lacking the trust funds necessary to afford better housing. The two rooms occupied by guys were merely just for show, and they weren't even cute. They were geeks that none of the girls wanted anything to do with. Steve would have it no other way. He was a disgusting hound.
No one had proof, but most the girls suspected Steve was snooping through their stuff while they were in class. Sometimes, items seemed to shift with no explanation, and there were rumors about lingerie mysteriously disappearing for a day or two before magically reappearing again.
Considering this, she never should have agreed to hold drugs for her friend. It was a foregone conclusion that Steve would find it. When he confronted her, she felt entrapped and extremely stupid. He threatened to throw her out, and though she tried arguing that he had no right to go into her room, he countered with some bullshit about finding it during a "routine inspection" of the plumbing. The repercussions were clear. If his story stuck, she knew she could be expelled from school and end up on the street. It certainly did not help that she was also two months behind on her rent.
They haggled for two days before reaching an agreement. In the end, Steve would forget about the narcotics and forgive her late rent in exchange for her consenting to have sex with him every Sunday morning when he came around. They had even shaken hands on it, effectively signing her soul away to the devil. The bargain had no out-clause, and the first Sunday it was consecrated marked a turning point in her life.
The memory was rather gruesome to think about. She had kept her eyes closed as her body was defiled, and Steve's nasty cock rooted its way into her tight cunt. Afterwards, he complained she was really stiff and a lousy fuck. It took a few weeks before her body started responding better to the unwanted intrusion, and Steve became more satisfied with her performance.
Her clothes from the night before lay on a chair by the bed; a tight tube top and yoga pants. Steve dropped his stained gray T-shirt and baggy jeans on top of her clothes. She was 110 pounds soaking wet and he was well over double that in weight. Even his clothes dwarfed hers. He kicked off his shoes and socks and peeled off his underwear, tossing the sweaty rag on top of her bra and panties. Had he even bothered to shower? She watched his flaccid cock dangling like a deflated balloon. It was five inches long, but she knew from experience it would gain several inches as it became aroused. It would also get substantially thicker, more so than any other cock she had ever seen. A thick cock for a thick guy she thought ruefully as she rolled over to make space for him in bed. The bedsprings creaked as he settled onto the twin mattress.
He insisted they start by making out. She was still reluctant kissing him, though it had become easier over time. Kissing was such a loving, intimate act, that it had felt horrifying and extra wrong to share with such a bad man. Not only was he more than twice her size, he was also more than twice her age. She was only 19 and he was 46. She was less aware of the age difference while they fucked but tongue wrestling and caressing him always made her conscious of how old he was compared to her.
She had read somewhere that the maximum acceptable age difference without being creepy was half your age plus seven. Or for a younger girl, your age minus seven, times two. That meant he shouldn't be with a woman under 30 and her ideal man was under 24. He was almost twice that.
As usual, he took his time unhurriedly French kissing and caressing her. He paid a lot of attention to her large, sensitive breasts. In this sense, he was identical to every man she had let past first base. He fondled her firm tits through her T-shirt until his hands slipped under the fabric to feel her smooth skin. After enough teasing, her nipples hardened as he played with them. His large hands and chubby fingers were surprisingly delicate and tender to the touch.
