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About six months ago I was out of money. Inflation had burned away more than my monthly surplus, the heating bill had cost me a gigantic chunk of my savings. I was fucked, I was panicking because rent was due, I clearly didn’t want to loose the place I was living in. Because I liked it, and moving sucks ass when you haven’t got the funds to do so.

So I asked some friends for advice – not for money, because lending money from your friends, that just isn’t good for your friendship – and I got plenty of ideas from them: They ranged from moving in with them over to asking my parents if my old room is still available or to begging my landlord for mercy. And some even suggested taking a loan.

At first glance all their suggestions sounded reasonable. Some of them even more than just doable. But only at first glance. After thinking about most of them for a longer than a few seconds, most of their ideas fell aside.

Moving in with a friend, it sounded tempting, it sounded doable because some of my friends had decent sized houses on their own, but I decided against it. I liked those guys – and girls – but living with them beneath one roof, better not. Because you never know what secrets they were hiding. And fucking up a friendship because of different cleaning standards, tidea I was thinking about was asking my bank for a loan. Probably totally doable because thirty two year old me went to college with the guy that was running my bank – not the whole corporation, just the local branch in the small town I was living in. But paying it all back with inflation still running wild gave me nothing but nightmares. So asking my bank for money, it was a risk I wasn’t eager to take back then.

Then I seriously wondered about moving back in with my parents. My old room was still there, they had turned it into a hobby room, but there still was a guest bed in it and they were living in the village next to the small town I was living in.

I wondered a lot about it, I even made a pro and con list, in the end I decided against moving back in with my parents. Sure a fridge filled with free food, a free laundry and cleaning service called mom, those things sounded more than just tempting. But giving up a gigantic chunk of freedom and only having one room for myself, that just had no appeal to me at all.

So there was only one option left. It was asking my fifty eight year old landlord for mercy. Asking her to allow me to pay later or to lower the rent. I didn’t really want to go down that road, but it was the last option available. So I had to call her. Or maybe knocking at her door, hoping that she was home? After some thinking, I went for the call.

And well, don’t ask me why no one came up with the idea to ask my boss for a raise. It just didn’t happen. Sometimes the obvious things are those no one really thinks about. It just is how life works from time to time.

It took me a couple of days to be able to call my landlord. Luckily there was some time left until payment was due. I had my phone in my hands more than once. I even had scrolled down to her number. But I wasn’t able to press the button. Something inside me was terrible afraid of doing so.

I really struggled. I even contacted my best friend to talk with him about the issue. He listened, he asked a few question then he told me to get my act together. Because according to him it was either moving in with my parents of camping in a nearby forest. And winters are pretty cold where I am.

He knew how to motivate me. We agreed upon going on camping trip in early summer together, then the call was over. And as soon as our conversation was done, I dialed my landlords number.

I didn’t told her exactly what I wanted. I just told her that I needed to talk to her. She let out a sigh, but she didn’t asked anymore questions. Then she told me to show up at her place, tomorrow, after I was done working. I thanked her, then the waiting began.

I was thinking about the meeting on the following day for the rest of the afternoon and through the bigger part of the evening. To me my fifty eight year old landlord was at all times polite and kind. But I have heard different stories from different people in town.

They told me that she was tough nut. That she was unlike able, that she crushing everyone’s balls, that she at all times said no, that she never showed any mercy and that she maybe had killed her husband, who died in a terrible yard work accident four years ago. Yes, the public comment was totally different from how I had experienced my landlord.

And that to be honest made me more than just nervous. I didn’t wanted to head over to her place, to knock at her door and to ask her to reduce my rent. Or to allow me to pay her later in the year, when things hopefully would have gone back to typical. It took some time until I finally was able to fall asleep.

The next day after work I hurried home. I took a quick shower, I put on a fresh set of clothes then I walked over to my landlord’s house. No, she wasn’t living in a fancy mansion. It just was an typical house like many other in the neighborhood: The house itself had two floors and a basement, a very tiny front yard, a decent sized back yard with a swimming pool and a two car garage. And a secret hidden in the basement, as I would figure out later.

Then I rang at her door, hoping that my landlord would be home. Which she mostly was, because her husband, and her father, had left her enough property so that she could make a more than just comfortable living by renting out those places.

But it took her a minute or two to open up the door. She probably was busy doing something when I rang the doorbell. When she opened up, her looks blew me away. She was wearing some leather boots, not too high, some tight fitting jeans, a broad belt and a buttoned up skirt that was tucked away into her pants. She had some dark red lipstick on and her long her tied together in a knot on the back of her head.

It took me some time to get a “Hello” out of my mouth. I just had to stare at her, I had to check her out from tip to toe and I had to lick my lips while doing so. I had the honor to deal with her more than once in the past, but I never ever realized how hot she actually was.

My landlord realized what was going on. She knew, she saw that I was checking her out. She liked what she saw. It put a smile on her face. And then she asked me in. She led me into her kitchen, there she showed me my place – the chair she wanted me to sit down on, nothing sexual, not ye – and we began to talk.

At first we were gossiping about the small town and our neighborhood. She had heard things, I had heard things, everyone practically knew everyone, it turned out to be an interesting and entertaining conversation, because we shared plenty of views on many people in town. While chatting, she offered me something to drink and even put some snacks on the table.

After about an hour – we both really got along with each other, it being that way surprised bot of us – she all of sudden turned from casual private into deadly serious professional mode. It was the first time for me seeing my landlord that way. And it drove a shiver down my back. But it also was somewhat arousing.

Then she looked at me. Her eyes were piercing me and asked me a simple question: “So why are you actually sitting here? It isn’t because the chit chat and the snacks, am I right?”

She was right. I was here to ask her about my rent. A few moments after she had asked me her question I told her about my financial situation. And to my surprise, she was very understanding. She listened. She nodded with her head while her facial expression went from ice cold and intimidating to something warmer and nicer. When I was done talking she opened her mouth: “No problem. Pay me as much as you can.”

Her answer totally caught me by surprise. I was ready for some arguing. I was ready to defend my case, but she just said yes. But she wasn’t done speaking yet. She explained her decision to me: “You are a good tenant. You pay on time. You don’t wreck my place. You don’t go on my nerves because of nothing. Tenants like you are hard to come by. And I want to keep you as my tenant. And to be honest, financially speaking, giving you a discount on your rent for sure won’t kill me.”

I still was surprised. And more than just impressed by her doing. I wanted to hug her, I wanted to kiss her, but something inside me told me that this wasn’t an appropriate reaction. But she wasn’t done with surprising me. No yet.

After she was done speaking she unbuttoned her skirt. She revealed her cleavage. She was showing off her body, even bending forward into my direction to give me a perfect view: “How about sealing the deal with something a little more exciting than just shaking hands?”

Besides showing off she had a more than just encouraging expression on her face. Luckily single and horny me immediately checked what she was up too. So I just stared down her cleavage and nodded with my head while licking my lips. While my dick was getting harder and harder with every second.

Once she saw my reaction she stood up and told me to follow her. We went over into her living room. She shook her hot ass for me on the way over. My mouth was watering while I walked after her.

After arriving at our destination, it was gigantic living room, comfy sofa, TV and one decent sized chair standing against one wall of the room. She placed herself onto it. Then she told me to stand straight in front of her. I just followed her order

Then she checked me out from tip to toe. And while doing so, she gave me my next order: “How about getting out of your clothes?”

The moment she sat down on the chair, I realized what she was up too. It wasn’t a first time for me, and it for sure wasn’t a first time for her. I was more than just excited about what would come next, and once more, I complied: I go rid of all my clothes. But I took my time doing so, because I was in no hurry at all.

The moment my hard one popped out of my underwear a more than just decent smile appeared on her face. She was licking her lips, she approved, she liked what she was seeing. Then she opened her mouth again: “I think my boots need some cleaning.”

A moment, maybe two later I was down on my knees and my tongue was on her already more than just clean leather boots. I took my time while licking them clean, she watched me all along and my doing more than just pleased her: “I see, someone had already taught you some manners.”

I nodded with my head. I looked up to her and confirmed her saying: “Yes, ma’am. Someone already had taught me how to behave when being around a woman.”

She loved the “yes, ma’am.” She also loved my doing. Once I was finally done with her boots, she gave me my next order: “Stand up for me, please.”

A few seconds later I was standing in front of her again. With my rock hard dick pointing towards her. And that was something, that didn’t went unnoticed: “I see you like serving me. You like cleaning my boots for me. I think I should reward you for following my orders.”

Hearing the last words coming out of her mouth filled me with excitement. Excitement and curiosity about she would ask me to do next. When she told me, when she allowed me to play with myself, inner me was celebrating. Outer me confirmed her order and my right hand began to go up and down on my rock hard dick.

But I went in too fast for her taste. She made me slow down. She made me touch myself in more gentle way. I was barely able to feel the hand going up and down on my rock hard dick. She watched every single stroke, she allowed me to keep on going.

It took some time until my moaning was filling the room. It took some time until I was able to work myself closer and closer to an orgasm. But it felt nothing but good.

Then she told me to take care of my balls too. To squeeze them. Gentle first and harder with time. Doing so made my moaning more intense, doing so did nothing but to enhance my pleasure. I was slowly but steadily drifting off elsewhere.

A few minutes, or maybe half an hour later, I lost track of time, all that mattered for me was the sensation of one of my hands going up and down my hard dick and the sensation of me squeezing my balls. She knew that I was getting closer and closer to an orgasm.

But she forbade me to cum without her permission. She told me that her punishment would be severe if I cum without her allowing me to do so. I was more than just close when she set up that rule. I wanted nothing but to cum.

I pulled myself together. I focused myself. I tried to think about something totally non sexual to push my orgasm further away. Luckily it worked. I was able to keep up the pace, to enjoy every hard squeeze I gave myself while constantly being one stroke away from cumming.

After some time watching me fighting the urge to cum she showed me mercy: “Cum for me. But be carefully, catch every last drop of your filth.”

I gave myself a couple of thrusts. It felt so good. Then I squeezed my balls really hard. And then, one last stroke. My balls unloaded themselves. My body was trembling when it happened. It came really good. And I managed to catch all of my cum with one of my hands.

She gave me some time to regain myself before she gave me another order. She did with a very satisfied and pleased expression on her face. But her tone was a very dominating one: “Now clean up after you.”

Moments later I was licking my own spunk of my fingers. I was very careful to not miss any drop of it. Then I swallowed it all. To show her that I really had cleaned up after myself, I showed her my empty mouth.

She was more than just pleased with my doing. She even commented onto it: “I see, someone has trained you well. Maybe this here has a future.”

Again, I nodded with my head. I told her that serving her was nothing but a pleasure for me. That I’d love to do so in the future. This time she nodded with her head. Then she allowed me to get dressed again.

When all my clothes were on my body again, the game, the sexual act was over. We looked each other in the eyes. We both had more than enjoyed our time together. But somehow no one was able to talk, to initiate a further conversation. And no, it wasn’t awkward of anything, we just were out of words.

Once we realized that we had nothing to say to each other anymore – at least for the day – she walked me to the door. At the door we looked each other in the eyes again. Something was going on between the two of us. But back on that evening, no one made one step further.

We wished each other a good night. When I was already out of the door she made an offer: “If you have trouble with paying your rent again, just hit me up.”

I told her that I would do so. Then I left her house, her garden and went back into my place. There in my bed, it hit me hard: You damn stupid moron, you missed a chance to make more out of that awesome evening. But luckily, it wasn’t my last chance to do so.

NSFW: yes

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