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I knelt between his thick thighs, the carpet rough against my skin. I unzipped his pants with shaking fingers. The smell hit me first—musky sweat, unwashed skin. He helped shove his pants and boxers down revealing his heavy belly, and I fought the urge to recoil. His cock was soft at first, nestled in dark hair. I leaned in, lips parting, and took him into my mouth. The taste was salty, bitter. I sucked for what felt like an eternity—in reality it was only about ten long, humiliating minutes—until he swelled thick and hard. About six inches, but alarmingly girthy. My jaw ached.

When I pulled back, gasping, he told me to lie on my back and spread my legs. I did as I was told, leaning against the couch cushions, holding my thighs open. Vulnerability washed over me in waves. Please let this be over fast. He didn’t bother with foreplay. No kiss, no touch to check if I was ready. He simply positioned himself and shoved in deep with one brutal thrust.

Pain exploded through me. I gasped sharply, eyes squeezing shut. He was so thick, stretching me mercilessly, and I was barely wet. His heavy body collapsed onto mine, smothering me with his weight and the sour scent of his sweat. He pounded into me relentlessly, selfish and frantic, his beer belly slapping against my stomach. I tried pushing him up, but he was too heavy. Tears slipped down my cheeks as discomfort bordered on misery. This is what I am now. A hole for rent.

But my body, traitorous and desperate for relief, began to respond. Natural lubrication eased the friction, and unwelcome sparks of pleasure started building despite everything. When he finally pulled out and told me to get on my hands and knees, I obeyed, draping myself over the back of the couch. He gripped my hips with his meaty hands, his belly resting heavily on my ass as he entered me again from behind. This angle was different—better. The thick drag of him hit places that made my breath hitch. I hated how good it started to feel. I pushed back against him, chasing the sensation, my mind a whirlwind of shame and need. How can I be enjoying this? His rhythm grew more confident, and soon a powerful orgasm crashed over me, leaving me trembling and mortified as my pussy clenched around him.

It felt like hours, though it was probably less. Finally, he grunted loudly, announcing his climax. His strokes turned short and frantic as he pulled me back onto him. He came hard, flooding me with hot spurts. When he pulled out, his cum leaked down my thighs onto the couch. I sat there dazed, swollen and used, while he casually dressed. He hadn’t even asked about protection—thank God I was on birth control.

As he zipped up, he told me he’d pass my number to his friends. Don’t take less than one hundred fifty dollars an hour. I’d keep the money, but the weekly sessions with him were non-negotiable and were merely for access to his friends. I nodded meekly, too drained to argue. He looked me over one last time, then left. The door clicked shut, leaving me naked on the couch, his cum still dripping from me, forming a wet spot beneath my ass.

I sat there in stunned silence. I’m a whore now. Strangely, I didn’t feel the crushing shame I expected, the pleasure in my pussy betraying my mind. There was numbness, yes, but a strange acceptance, I felt empty with nothing stretching me wide. But survival had its price.

Lost in thought, I realized my fingers had drifted between my legs, idly rubbing my sensitive, cum-slick pussy. I yanked my hand away, cheeks burning, embarrassed even though I was alone. Standing on shaky legs, I headed for the shower. The hot water stung my skin, but the filth I felt wasn’t really about the sex or the money. It was him—his sweat, his smell, his complete disregard for me as a person. Maybe if he showered, trimmed up, or showed even a hint of care, I could tolerate it better. As the water cascaded over me, I wondered what the coming weeks would bring. Clients, not men, I’m not a whore, I was surviving. More of this. A new, darker chapter of my life.

But at least I had a roof over my head. For now.

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