A Rent Problem

I'd been married for about two years when my husband had a minor accident. Up until then we hadn't had any real problems. We both worked, generating a decent income, were renting a very nice house at a reasonable rent, and the landlord was a kindly and friendly man. I'll admit that we'd been a day or two late with the rent a couple of times but he'd just brushed that aside because we were normally timely payers. He quite understood that these little hiccups sometimes occurred.

Joe's little accident was going to be slightly more than a slight hiccup. He was in hospital with a broken arm. True, he was getting out tomorrow, but he wouldn't be working for a couple of weeks. True, he'd get paid sick leave, but it would take a while for his claim to work its way through the system.

That delay in getting the sick benefits meant that he wouldn't receive his pay in the coming week and we were depending on that money to live. This meant that the money I had on hand to pay the rent would need to be redirected to essentials like food and utilities. Rent was due today and I was going to have to explain why I didn't have it and asked for a deferral.

Mr Adams turned up and I invited him in, asking if he wanted some coffee. He probably guessed straightaway that something was wrong as I normally reach for the rent as soon as he arrives. He stood just a little straighter and I became extremely aware of him.

Mr Adams was about ten years older than me, around thirty five would be my guess. I was also becoming aware of just how big he was. He stood a couple of inches over six feet and he was solid. The flesh on him was meat and muscle, not fat, and he looked as if he could hold up his end in a fight with no problems. Actually, the slight bend in his nose indicated it had been broken at some time, suggesting that he'd actually been in a fight or two.

I sighed and made the confession.

"Ah, Mr Adams I can't make the rent this week. Can I put it off until next week?"

He wasn't smiling any more but neither was he frowning.

"Hm. Why not? Has something gone wrong?"

"It's Joe," I told him. "He's currently at the hospital with a broken arm and won't get paid next week. We have to wait until his sick pay comes through and the request has to work its way through the bureaucracy of his work. It'll come, but things will be tight for the next week or so."

"That's most unfortunate," he sympathised. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Let us have that extra week before we pay the rent," I said hopefully, and he laughed.

"Yes, well that goes without saying," he said, "but I suppose you're happier actually hearing it. No, I meant anything else?"

"Oh. Thank you," I said, relieved. "Um, no, I can't think of anything."

"Mm. I was thinking that under certain circumstances I would waive this week's rent," he said, at the same time he calmly lifted the hem of my dress, tucking it into my belt and revealing my panties.

I was shocked. Totally and completely. For a moment I couldn't speak or move or do anything. Then I managed to find my voice.

"Are you suggesting that if I, ah, if I..." I couldn't get the words out and simply waved my hands towards my groin, blushing fiercely. "You'd forego this week's rent for that?" I put a very meaningful accent on the last word.

"As bright as you're beautiful," he said. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting. I get entertained for a short while and you don't need to worry about your rent for this week. I'm sure that you can use the money for more important things."

"Oh, I couldn't," I gasped, my hands on my hot cheeks. "I just couldn't."

At the same time, much to my horror, I found myself wondering what it would be like making love to someone other than Joe. Joe and been my first and only and suddenly I was curious. I wanted to slap myself.

"Hm. The signs indicate that you could with just a little bit of persuasion," Mr Adams told me, still smiling, damn him.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What signs?"

"This," came the reply.

He calmly reached down and stroked me through my panties. I was confused. How did him touching me so intimately show anything other than he was being rather crude? I then had a flash of the blasted obvious. The reason he could stroke me through my panties was because they were still on show. I hadn't pulled my dress loose from my belt where he'd tucked it up. How the hell had I missed doing that?

"You, ah, you can't do this," I managed to say, my voice sounding slightly funny to me.

The rotten man winked and smiled.

"Oh, I think I can do just a little bit more," he told me. "Make sure to stop me if I go too far."

With that he took hold of my panties and pushed them down. I could feel them slithering all the way down to my ankles. With them out to the way his hand was now touching me, rubbing against my vulva in a carefree manner. His fingers would dance lightly over my mons, making me want to swear at him, and then his hand was between my legs, probing at my hot moistness. Damn it. I wasn't supposed to be either hot or moist.

"Um, it's getting hot in here," I mumbled, one hand trying to fan my face. "I think I need to adjust the air conditioner."

"Later," he said, still touching me.

Why the hell hadn't I demanded that he stop? I'd just do that little thing. Maybe not right now but definitely in a minute or two.

I could feel the arm of one of the armchairs pressing against me. I guess I should say I was pressing against one of the arms because it wasn't the chair that had moved. Now I was leaning back against the armchair, his knee between mine, moving them further apart.

Looking down I could see I was wide open to him, his hand massaging me most intimately. I'd never been in a situation like this before and wasn't sure what I should be doing.

You should be telling him to stop, you idiot, I railed at myself, and slapping him a good one while you're at it. Right I'd do that. Probably not the slapping but I'd certainly tell him to stop. In a moment I'd do that.

I was still telling myself that (and meaning it) when Mr Adams unzipped his trousers. He slowly and deliberately pushed them down, his erection standing out. It occurred to me that his erection was like him, tall and solid looking. I desperately wanted to back away from it but I was pressed up against the chair. I wanted to tell him to back off and not to touch me with that thing but a treacherous little part of me was saying 'I wonder what it will feel like'.

Talk about having conflicting emotions. I was excited and appalled. The main source of the appalled feeling was the fact that I was also excited. I had no right to be. I should be shocked and demanding that he back off and back off now. If I did I'd be safe. The trouble was I didn't want to be safe. Mingling with my excitement was curiosity and the combination was making me stay right where I was, watching his cock come closer.

His fingers stretched my lips and he steered me into place. I gave a soft squeal as he simply pushed steadily into me. I watched with some trepidation but still found myself fascinated by the way his cock sank deeper into me. His cock was filling me, stretching me, taking me over. He was larger than Joe and I could feel the difference.

Once fully inside me he didn't wait around, simply pulling back and driving in again. Actually it was the first time he drove in. His initial entry was more of a gentle easing into place. He'd now achieved that goal and he was ready for a more energetic activity.

He pumped into me with me finding myself responding with some enthusiasm. I wasn't sure if I was responding because I wanted to, or if it was just an automatic reaction to what he was doing to me, but respond I certainly did.

I was wedged on the chair, partly on the arm and partly against the back of the chair, help firmly in place by his body crushing against mine. My legs came up and wrapped around him, shocking me anew when I saw my white panties dangling from my ankle, having me effectively waving them as a flag of surrender.

Mr Adams was putting in extra effort, driving in faster. Shorter strokes, I think, letting him do more in a shorter time. Irrelevant, really. All I really knew was that he was giving me the works and I was responding, my climax already bearing down on me.

I climaxed in a big way, hastily stuffing a hand in my mouth to stop myself shrieking. By the time I'd ridden it out we had separated and Mr Adams was doing up his trousers and looking incredibly smug.

To my surprise he whipped out his rent book and filled out a receipt for me saying the current weeks rent was paid.

"Have to keep my books in order," he said with a smile. "If I don't enter it my accountant might notice further down the line and that could lead to problems. I've learned it's easier to just keep the books the way they should be."

I was relieved. I'd have a receipt showing that we were up to date on rent and that was all I was worried about. It wasn't until he left that what he said registered. How had he learned the need to keep the books in order? Did he pull this type of stunt often? If so I wondered who with. Then I found myself wondering if he'd try to do it again with me. Well, if he did it certainly wouldn't work. Absolutely not.