You hear a lot about how kids these days are staying at home, they can’t get jobs, lazy-ass bums. Well, mine weren’t like that. My kids were born when I was pretty young, and by the time I hit my forties they were out of the house. I don’t want to dwell on it but I lost my wife before we got to twenty-five and I raised four kids on my own. I got a great job and a fifteen-year mortgage and so there I was, forty-two years old with an empty house, paid-for. The job had a deal where if you stayed twenty-five years you got the full package, and I had a few years left, so I didn’t want to move out yet.
The house is a split-level with five bedrooms, if you can believe that. I converted the basement for two of them, and there are three upstairs. I have always believed in having a “lived-in” house, not a showroom, but I did quite a bit of work on it. I’ve got a family room in the back, carpeted with the entertainment center and some exercise equipment and a little bar, the living room is on the middle level, there is a library near the front of the house, ground level.
At this age I am not really excited about the idea of spending money going out to meet women. I love women, but the whole dating game is crazy. Everybody is on their best behavior, trying to impress each other, and the sexual thing is awkward as fuck. They don’t want to be slutty and you don’t want to be a perv or, these days, a predator, so you start slow and eventually decelerate until there is no fire left at all and nobody gets what they really want. Not my style. Unfortunately the scripts that society provides us by default all steer a relationship away from passion and toward marriage, which I am definitely not interested in.
I don’t even remember how I got the idea but it instantly made sense. Here I am with a big house in the suburbs, a good job, and no lovin’. I had no desire for the commitment of a relationship, but like I say I love women, and I don’t mean just sexually, I mean I like them as people. I love the conversation, the joking, the challenge, and warmth of a pretty smile. So, I thought, what if I had a woman move in with me? Not as a lover, though I would hope it would be sexual, a woman to move in and share the house and fuck me now and then. She would be getting a deal, free rent, and I would have some companionship and a little pussy now and then.
I had to think it through. For instance, I could advertise for a maid or live-in cleaning lady, and somehow make it clear I was expecting more, but … I didn’t want a cleaning-lady. I wanted a woman, a smart, sexy, grown-up woman, my equal. I didn’t want a whore, either, a woman who considered sex a professional service. What did I want?
I sat down at the computer and tried some wording, and came up with this: “ISO Uninhibited woman 20-35 to share house rent-free. References, please.”
I decided on the reference thing so I could check on them and so I wouldn’t get somebody who would come in and steal my shit and disappear.
I left that on the screen for a while and thought about it. It kind of sounded like a fantasy but hey, I’m single, I’m self-sufficient, I can’t see anything wrong with it. But as I considered it I realized I had just cracked open the lid of this Pandora’s box and peeked in. Was this what I really wanted, a woman to live in the house with me?
Actually, no, if I let my mind go a little bit, I realized, I actually did not want to solicit some random person to be my roommate and live-in lover. I have five bedrooms. One for me, and four for…
I changed one letter: “ISO Uninhibited women 20-35 to share house rent-free. References, please.”
I slept on it, and next day posted it on Craigslist.
Man, I did not anticipate the response I got. Within three hours I had received more than forty email replies. A lot were stupid, women who wanted to have sex for money mainly but also some that were simply inappropriate. I narrowed it down to about ten and crafted personalized replies to them.
One wrote: “I am 25 y/o and college grad working as intern. Can’t pay rent. Quiet, a reader, and yes uninhibited. Merrie.”
My reply would set the foundation for a relationship and I wanted it to be right. Not lecherous but I needed to make it clear that sex was part of the deal. “Hi Merrie. I am a single man, 42, with a big house. I would like to share my life with happy loving women. Please send details and references. Mike.”
Merrie wrote back within the hour. “Hi Mike. I am interested but need to be careful. Are you expecting to have sex with these “uninhibited women?” And is any woman living there now?”
My reply: “Yes, I want this to be a sexual thing, and more. I am not looking for a wife or even a lover but want some joy and love in my house. This is not a personal commitment on your part, though I would not want you to bring men here.”
Merrie replied with a smiley face and some names of three people who lived in the city. I did not call them. My reply: “When can you come for an interview?”
Her bahis firmaları reply: “Tomorrow is good.”
Now, I am telling you about Merrie but at the same time I had eight other women responding. Dolly was a thirty-year-old divorcee; Debby was twenty-two and sounded immature to me; Wendy was twenty-six and worked in an office … and so on. Some sounded better than others and I prioritized my replies.
The next day, Wednesday, I took an “alternative schedule” day off to meet with Merrie. I found I was actually a little nervous. I have never been a “wild and crazy guy,” I am stable, normal, boring even. I knew that I could interview someone and then decide to blow the whole thing off, but still it was a very strange feeling to have someone coming over to apply for the job of live-in fuckmate.
At two o’clock, as planned, a slightly older Toyota pulled into my driveway and parked, and Merrie got out. She looked so young. She wore blue jeans and a kind of peasant blouse and sandals. Her hair was blondish, hanging to her shoulders. Not a lot of makeup. She looked like a college girl… as I recall them.
I opened the door before she knocked.
“Oh,” she said, looking surprised, her fist poised to tap the wood.
“You are Merrie?”
“Yes, and you are Mike, I take it?”
I offered her some iced tea and she accepted. I could see her eyeballing the house, looking it over for clues that I am a crazed axe-murderer-slash-sex-fiend, and also evaluating whether she could live here. I keep the place pretty neat. There are shoes in the corner and a newspaper on the couch, a couple of dishes in the sink but you know, it’s lived-in. We sat in the overstuffed chairs in the living room.
She kicked it off. “Well, this seems like an unusual arrangement you are working on here.”
“I suppose,” I said. “My kids are grown, it’s just me, I thought I might as well have a happy life here. I can live a dream, can’t I?”
“And it’s not just me, you are planning to have other women here too?”
“And they will have sex with you, too?”
“I don’t know how it will work,” I said. “But yes. I don’t want to own anybody, don’t want to marry anybody. I imagine a nice, open, loving group.”
“And will they have sex with each other, too?” Merrie asked.
“Huh, good question,” I responded. “Great question. Would you want to?”
Merrie smiled. “I see, so you are not going to be, like, in charge. Does it matter to you if we want to have sex or not?”
“Yes, of course.” I was a little shocked and disoriented. “This isn’t like slaves or something.”
“Okay, so what if a lady moves in and then doesn’t want to have sex with you?”
I had not thought about this. Of course, I had my little fantasy where everybody was happy but … “I guess she would move out again.”
“So sex with you is a requirement for living here.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So it isn’t really like sex-slaves but they kind of owe you.”
“Merrie, it isn’t like sex slaves at all. If they want to stay here and have sex with me then good. If they don’t, that is also fine. They can move on.”
“And what if we want to have sex with each other?”
“I don’t see how that could be a problem,” I said. “In fact, it sounds like fun it two or three wanted to come spend the night in my bed with me.”
Merrie was watching me. “It could be fun,” she said. “Depends on who it is.” She did not smile, though I felt like giving her a big kiss.
“That’s always the case, isn’t it,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to go to bed with just anyone.”
“I have an idea,” she said. “When you have chosen the first woman, let her help you pick the next one. Then let them help you pick the next ones and so on.”
“Would you like to see the place?” I asked. I was pretty sure Merrie would work out.
“Yes,” she said.
I walked her through the house. She had a definite preference for the front bedroom. She looked into the shower stall, opened closets in the basement, walked through the back yard.
“What are your neighbors going to think?”she asked me.
“The neighbors. They are going to see a bunch of people here, a bunch of cars.”
“They won’t care.”
“Uh huh,” she said, ominously. Back in the living room she asked, “So are you going to want to audition me?”
“Yeah, maybe we are incompatible.”
“Sexually, you mean?”
“I had not thought of that,” I said.
“I don’t want to move in and have to fuck you if we aren’t into it,” she said.
“Well to tell you the truth I do not like the idea of auditioning someone sexually. It sounds creepy.”
“Yeah, it does,” she said. “But nobody is going to want to move in on those terms, if they don’t know.”
“Oh, so you’d be auditioning me, actually.” I am a little slow sometimes.
She smiled finally. “Yes. It would be that.”
I scratched my head like a bumpkin. “So how do we go about that?”
Merrie had kaçak iddaa a paradoxical expression on her face. She was partly laughing at me and partly nervous. “Well, Mike,” she said finally. “I guess your bedroom would be the place to start.”
“You want to have sex right now?”
“Dude, it’s your fantasy,” she laughed. “I just answered an ad. You want a houseful of women to fuck, you gotta start somewhere.”
I should say, Merrie was actually a beauty. Or a cutie maybe. She was slim and healthy looking with big brown eyes and a few freckles. An all-American hometown girl, really. She seemed like the kind that would cross a flooded river on a slippery tree-trunk, just to see what was on the other side. She was looking at me. It was my move. “Okay,” I said, “You up for a roll in the hay?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said.
I took her hand and led her into the bedroom and kissed her gently.
“So that’s part of it – kissing?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Definitely.”
“Good,” she said, and we kissed again. She opened her mouth and our tongues came out and there was a moment where neither of us knew what to do. That moment quickly dissolved though in a deep, passionate kiss. “Good,” she said again as we pulled apart.
I had my arms around her and began caressing her back, her ribcage, eventually her breasts, and I kissed her again. She reached behind herself to unhook the bra and my hands came up under the front of her blouse. It was a cotton top with lace around the sleeves and throat and I pulled it up from the waist to toss it over her head. Her bra fell on the floor and she stood before me like a shy goddess. I had to stare. Her small breasts were hard and the nipples puckered in a most inviting way. She watched me watching her, with a sense of vulnerability that made her irresistible. I touched her breasts and lowered my head to suck one and she pulled me tight with a gasp.
She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off, with her cotton panties, while I was preoccupied, and she stood naked in my room. I stepped back and looked at her. “You are beautiful,” I said. She did not reply. Her arms were slender and her thighs were strong and long.
“Your turn,” she said, reaching for the snap of my trousers. She popped it open and pulled my pants down, leaving my underwear. She unbuttoned my shirt and threw it on the floor. “Better,” she said.
It had been a few months since I was with anyone. It’s like riding a bike, you don’t forget, though you might fall off the first couple of times back. I walked Merrie to the bed and pulled down the covers, I kicked off my underpants and we lay down.
I did feel like she was auditioning me. But at the same time I did not want to go all-out with my best game and set a precedent I couldn’t sustain. We lay together and I kissed her and rolled her onto her back so that my hand could move over her skin. She had a perfect flat tummy and breasts that pointed at the sky, a narrow waist and she flared nicely out at the hips – a head-turner, the kind that causes accidents and doesn’t know it. She closed her eyes when we kissed but had them open otherwise, watching me.
I cupped her breast and stroked it, closing my fingers over the nipple, and she shivered visibly. Her hand came down to my cock and she held it and stroked it, pumping lightly. I think I am statistically average there, I have never had a complaint but actually nobody has ever said anything about my penis. It works, I think, normally. It meets the minimal standard, and that has been good enough for everybody so far. The touch of her fingers on me was thrilling and I sprang to full length right away.
I let my hand wander to her pussy. She had a sparse tuft of pale pubic hair that framed thin, dainty labia and a tidy little clitoris under a perfect little soldier’s-hat of a hood. She shifted her hips to respond to me and gave a little moan.
Then, surprisingly, she rolled onto her side, facing me, which forced me onto my back. She had my cock in her hand and began jacking it off slowly, looking at it. Then she threw her legs over my body and sat on my stomach.
I figured she was ready to fuck, but that was not actually what she had in mind. She raised her body and worked her way forward until her pussy was over my mouth. She reached her hands out to brace herself against the wall at the head of my bed and lowered her pussy to my mouth.
This was definitely not what I had expected. Her pussy had a sweet smell with a hint of musk, a clean smell. It was not dripping wet but moist, and she leaned forward over me so that her clitoris was right over my mouth. I extended my tongue and gave it a flick and could feel the earthquake ricochet through her body. “Mmm,” she moaned softly, pressing her pussy against my mouth. My nose was buried in her flesh but I found I could breathe through my mouth as I opened it to tongue her clitoris. After a few seconds she shifted her hips and I found my flapping tongue was licking between her labia, and kaçak bahis then she dropped her vagina on my tongue and pressed down. She let me munch on her vaginal opening, which was becoming very wet, for a minute or so and then quickly slid back so I had her clitoris again. I flicked it hard with my tongue and sucked it and she brought her hands to my ears and held my head as she let out a sound that I can only describe as resembling a wolf’s howl. Her body froze and she howled and then I could feel her thighs trembling and quaking, and after about a half a minute it settled down again.
Merrie lifted herself off my face a few inches and scooted back on my body. She reached under herself and took hold of my cock and began rubbing it against her pussy. She smiled down at me, smirked really, and said, “Oh, I like that.” She kept doing it for perhaps a minute and then her eyes glazed over and she once again shivered and shouted with an orgasm.
It only took a twitch for her to slip my cock into her pussy, and she sat back on me, taking me deep. I was watching her face and she was watching mine, I think she was checking to see if I was going to lose it, shoot my load – I am sure she would not want to make a commitment to move in with a premature ejaculator. I was good, and she rocked her hips subtly at first, getting used to the feel of me, testing me, and then her movements grew in amplitude as she fucked more of my length. She pumped me at a medium tempo and began grinding her clit against my pubic bone, at first paying attention to my reaction but then allowing her own self indulgence until she exploded once more. Even during her orgasm I could see she was watching me, checking to make sure I did not go over the edge.
Then she slid forward and my cock came out of her. “That was great,” she said, toppling forward with her head on my shoulder. “What do you think? Do I get the front bedroom?”
“Well, uh,” I began. “Are we finished?”
She lifted her head and looked at me. “This was an audition, right?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “I guess.”
“So, let me guess, you wanted to come.”
“Well, I, uh, it is kind of the usual thing.”
“You are talking about having what, four women living here? Banging them all?”
“Yeah, well I don’t know.”
“Mike you don’t want to come every time.”
“But, ” I paused, searching for words, “Isn’t that the point?”
She sat up, cross-legged, and looked seriously at me. “You don’t really think so, do you?”
It was throwing me. I didn’t have an answer. “I do expect to have my fun, too,” I said.
“Do you know what Karezza is?” she asked me. I did not. “Karezza is a kind of sex they practiced in the free-love communes in America in the eighteen hundreds. Everybody was fucking everybody, and so the deal was, the men just didn’t come. Women could have as many orgasms as they wanted, but the guys, no.”
“And the men thought that was okay?”
“Dude, they were banging as many women as they could handle. They were not complaining.”
“How do you feel after you come? Are you ready for more?”
“Well, no, not for a while. Like, maybe a few hours, or the next day.”
“Yeah, after a guy comes he is a pain in the ass. He loses interest in the girl, he wants to sleep, I vote that you don’t come.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Sure. Do you want to? I can make you come right now if you want.” She took my still-hard cock in her hand. But it seemed like a dumb idea, like she was treating me like a little kid.
“Naw,” I said. “You have a point. I’m not quite buying it, but like you said, it is just an audition.”
“So I can get the front bedroom?”
I smiled and pulled her face down to kiss me. “That sounds good,” I said. “Number One Girl, front bedroom.”
We showered and looked at her room. It had a bed in it, and she said she would bring her things over the next few days. “Who else applied?” she asked.
“Oh I have a list,” I said.
“Let me see it.”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’ You aren’t just choosing roommates for yourself now.”
Merrie and I sat at the kitchen table and I went through the names, describing each one as far as I knew. I had exchanged texts with a couple of them. She listened intently and had some questions. She liked the idea of an older woman, thirtyish, and honestly I did too. So while she was there I composed a note to Dolly, explaining the situation, that I had one roommate so far, and we waited for a response.
It didn’t take long. Within a minute my computer beeped and Dolly had replied. “This sounds exciting,” she wrote. “I am a kind of conservative girl but I look forward to something more interesting in life.”
“Conservative in what way?” I wrote back. “Trump?”
She replied within seconds. “Oh no, are you kidding?”
After conferring with Merrie I typed, “OK, good. So can you come over tomorrow to meet us?”
We agreed on ten the next morning. Merrie teased me: “See, you could have auditioned her this afternoon if you’d wanted.”
“Point taken,” I nodded.
“Tomorrow we can audition her together,” Merrie said.
I looked at her and she laughed. “What, you don’t get to have all the fun,” she said.