+++While the title suggests financial investments, it is
quite different emotional investments, I guess. You
may find this story interesting, perhaps arousing, but
I as author disclaim any mischief that may result from
reading it. But you must be 18 years of age or more to
continue.
Betty had the apartment and advertised for a roommate. The location was perfect for me, as my job at the bank was just down the street. When I called she seemed dismayed.
"I didn't put it in the ad, but it did say I was a single female and I assumed..."
I told her about my job and age, "Besides," I said, "It's good to have a man around the house for protection and...moving heavy furniture."
After that speech, her voice seemed to soften. She began to ask me some intimate questions. It was a little troubling, but intriguing. We got past the obvious, age 24, but why height and weight. I guess she didn't want any fatties, but then, "Are you handsome?"
Wow, I hadn't expected this to be a relationship, other than roommates. "I guess I am," I said, "My Mother thinks so."
Then it went downhill or uphill after that. "Are you muscular? Hairy? Do you have big feet?" Then the question or questions, "Are you gay?"
"No."
This was a strange person, this Betty, but whether I take the share, or even offered it would depend on a personal interview. It was set up for the following morning at 8:00AM, before work.
Am I handsome? What a question. While I don't dwell or my appearance and even try to counter my good looks by dressing very plainly and am careful not to over groom myself, my face in the mirror at my morning shave is pleasing. My hair is reddish blond, my features classically cute and my blue eyes are laser like in their color and intensity.
Then there's my bod. I am naturally toned from my morning runs, no gym, too expensive in New York City. She asked about hairiness. I am singularly not hairy, even my arms and legs are smooth. As if to compensate, my pits and crotch are luxuriant with that reddish blond hair like my head. I never clip or shape my pubes. Hey, how come she didn't ask if I smoke. An odd girl to be sure.
One thing about me that she didn't ask: my sex life. It stinks. I had a steady fuck girl friend for the last two years but it broke up because she is getting married. I have been in forced celibacy for the last six months and have had to resort to self release, otherwise I'd go nuts. It's a poor substitute, but at least I know my partner.
Here I am standing at the bottom of a small flight of stairs that leads to the front door. On the right are four bells and four mail slots. I press the bell. A small speaker above the bell crackles and a distorted voice asks: "Is this Manly?" Yep, that's my name, and hopefully a description.
The front door buzzed open and I went up a flight. There were only two doors on that second floor. Hers was the front apartment. That's good. I rapped on the door and she opened it.
There stood a sweetie of a girl. I'd say about twenty to twenty two years old. She had a Beetle, or Buster Brown hair comb. The bangs emphasized her big eyes and frank eyebrows. Her skin was luminous and best of all, she had a wide humorous mouth.
She was wearing a floppy sweater that blocked out any evaluation of her boobs, but the short shorts showed off her hot legs.
"Hello (accent on the 'o') Manly." She appraised me so searchingly that I glanced down to be sure my fly was not open. "You are quite dishy." Oh, I detected a slight English accent. Nice.
When I stepped in, I saw she was about my height, 5'10" and that seemed very sexy, but I cut off that kind of thought as she was my future landlady, not fuck buddy.
She smilingly took me around and showed me the place. This was a great flat. The rooms were large and the second bedroom (my future one) was as large as the master bedroom and looked out on a rear garden.
"You have use of the livingroom just like a real tenant, (she laughed) and we will make up rules for the kitchen. There is one disadvantage of these older apartments, only one bathroom. I suggest when it is in use that the occupant hangs a towel on the door. The lock is broken." Then making a quick transition, she said, "Do you drink or smoke? How about weed?"
"All of the above, moderately. I hope that doesn't knock me out of the running."
"No, that knocks you in." She held out her cold, slim hand. "You can move in after work today if you like the place."
Did I like it, it was great and she was making my trunk area buzz with pleasure.
The first few weeks were a honeymoon between us. Her relationship stance was like a younger sister. She was cutely inquisitive. For instance she hung at my elbow while I unpacked and asked all kinds of questions about my clothes and underwear. "Why do you wear boxers, aren't those Guido briefs sexy and supposed to offer, er, support. But then, perhaps you don't need support."
"Look here nosey, I like boxers because you hang free, and I have large hanging balls for your information."
"Can I see them. It's just scientific interest, you know."
I pushed her out of the room, but I was smiling because she's fun.
She already knew about my defunct girl friend, in fact she has a talent for mining everything about me. She knows a bit about my sex life and interests.
"Are you good in bed? I'm not auditioning you, just curious."
I said that I was outstanding, but I didn't go into details. The details are that I'm big cocked, I have a long tongue and like to use it, and finally I have that rare ability to hold off cumming as long as I like but can spew at will.
A few days later she made dinner for us. We drank a lot of wine and were too wrecked to clean up. We fell onto the couch and had a wonderful slurring conversation. She asked, "What is your favorite kind of sex."
"I like it all. Fucking is great, but that's a big deal. I guess for everyday use, oral is great."
She clapped her hands, missing twice, "G-r-r-eat! I love getting and giving oral, it's my schrong point." I guess she meant 'strong', but I was overjoyed in hearing that.
"Betty, we must oralize each other soon, but right now, I gotta go to bed."
I staggered to my bed, didn't undress, and fell into a coma-like sleep. It's funny, I can drink the hard stuff without losing too much control, but wine kills me.
About six in the morning I woke up with Betty sitting on my bed and examining me. She had pulled the covers down and was checking out my body clad nothing. That's the way I sleep.
"Get off, I have to take a wicked piss."
"Can I watch? Can I hold it while you do it?"
I stood up, naked, a quarter hard, my hands on my hips. "Is this another science experiment."
"How did you guess."
I know you may not believe it but she followed me in and as I stood at the bowl, she took hold of my cock and ordered, "Let it fly."
It wasn't easy, but I managed to empty my bladder. She loved the feeling of my piss flowing down the shaft and hitting the water in the bowl. Then she vigorously shook out the final yellow drop while I groaned appreciatively. She swatted by ass and warned me not to enjoy it too much.
"You're so lucky to have this fun every time. Girls never see their urine, it's like a secret."
Gradually I began to see that Betty was crazy for guys, everything about them and I had become the inflatable doll for her to study. She'd admire my feet and even sniff them and nod gravely. She said my hands were outstanding with no knobby knuckles. And my ass, she talked about those side dimples and the way the cheeks stood out and formed a shelf at the base of my spine. She made no discourse on my ass hole. I guess that was just too...something.
I countered her admiration by checking out her assets. She had a lovely bush, naturally shaped with a straight line on the top. I didn't yet get to check out her cunt. Her ass was sleek and her breasts were outstanding, smallish but with prominent nipples. Wait 'til she feels my hot tongue on them, she'll be reduced to a helpless mass of passion.
What was all this? Pre-foreplay, if there is such a thing. We were getting to the point that just looking at each other made me hard, and I suppose she became wet. I swear, I could smell it. It was intimate and a grassy fragrance.
Things came to a head (my head) when she finally asked me, after one of our wine dinners, "You want a suck?"
"Sure," I said agreeably, not expecting this to be a big thing. I was wrong. This girl could suck like no other girl I had ever tendered my cock to. Her tongue never stopped flicking and her mouth was dripping with spit. She gave me a hummer as she sucked. My usual ability to hold on was sabotaged. She seemed to know when I was peaking.
"Come in my mouth," she ordered. I unloaded immediately, like a good child.
She swallowed gamely and when there was no more at the fountain, she smacked her lips. "That's a good year. Tomorrow I'll taste the new wine."
She just knocked me out. I lay there weak and panting. If I had this treatment every day, I'd have a heart attach and die, but what a way to go.
"Would you like me to...?"
"Not tonight, tomorrow yes."
Tomorrow came, I kissed her inner thighs. That brought goose pimples and sighs. Good sign. The as I kissed her outer lips, her hand went to my hair and she twisted it almost painfully. For a moment I thought she was signally me to stop, but when I did, she smacked my head. Her non verbal communication was eloquent. I resumed loving every minute. She was a gusher girl. The brine was delicious. I was glad I could get her going so easy. Later I found out that she orgasmed easily. What luck for her. She could come multiple times and only stopped me because she was exhausted from the intensity of our cums.
I unfurled my long tongue past her outer lips and liked and kissed the inner ones and found her g spot easily. Now we were off and running. It was such a great experience for me that I had to be careful that I didn't shoot off.
Well the first try was super. The next one better as she wheeled around and got my prick and sucked away while I licked her sweet cunt. We were as happy as pigs in mud.
Both of us, at least at this point, wanted it nightly. Sometimes both of our faces were puffy and swollen from the effects of the heavy passion. Fuck it, we didn't care.
I thought about friends with benefits. This was a landlady with benefits, but no fuck buddy. She made it plain that this was our game, but no fuck. I missed it slightly, but hardly.
This Nirvana continued for several weeks, and as far as I was concerned, could continue indefinitely. But our homeostasis was altered forever, because of Jeff.
Jeff, you ask? Jeff lived across the hall, with his parents. He was eighteen years old. Even I could see that he was a great looking kid. He had that square jawed jock look and he was really built, and was at least 6'4". He had one of those deep deep voices that came as a surprise from such a baby face. We had met in the hall several times and he chatted with me. I was not fooled that these chats were geared to get info form me. He now knew that Betty wasn't my wife or girl friend.
"Why you ask?" I said.
"Honestly I have a long distance crush on her. She sure is hot." Then looking at me worriedly, "You don't mind me saying that, do you?"
I assured him that I didn't. The shit took that as an okay to pursue Betty's hotness.
What I mean is that I worked late on Thursday. When I came home, there was Jeff sucking Betty's boobs (sounds funny, huh). His eyes were closed in delirious happiness. I came close to the bed and I gave Betty the up palm sign for "What's up."
The boy's eyes flew open as Betty said in a clear voice, "Manly, join us."
End Part One