Rent Due
Copyright© 2026 by Dilbert Jazz
Chapter 4: The Next Due Date
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Next Due Date - In a rundown Kansas City apartment, unemployed Mia pays rent with her body. What begins as voyeuristic window shows for neighbor Caleb escalates when landlord Harlan blackmails her with hidden videos. Coerced submission turns into craving—first private, then courtyard, alley, street, bar. Double-teamed under strangers’ phones and headlights, Mia’s addiction deepens: vulnerability becomes power, shame becomes ecstasy. She begs for more exposure, more claims, until surrender is her only identity.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Blackmail Coercion Reluctant Fiction DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Rough Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Public Sex 2nd POV ENF
August arrived in Kansas City like a slow burn—humid air thick enough to chew, thunderstorms rolling through every few nights but never quite breaking the heat. Mia’s apartment had become a pressure cooker of anticipation. The fairy lights stayed on every evening now, blinds open, a silent signal she no longer questioned. Caleb still watched from across the courtyard—sometimes recording, sometimes joining her through the window in silent, mirrored rhythm—but the edge had shifted. Harlan’s visit had rewritten the rules. Every time she came now, she felt both sets of eyes: Caleb’s cool, precise gaze from above, Harlan’s heavier, possessive one from below. The thought made her wetter than she wanted to admit.
Rent was due again on the first. She left the envelope under Harlan’s door at 11:30 p.m.—eight hundred seventy-five dollars in crisp bills, exactly as agreed. She wore the same emerald silk robe, loosely tied, with crotchless lace beneath. No performance tonight. Not yet. She returned upstairs, heart already thudding, and waited.
The knock came at 11:52—three firm raps, same as before.
She opened the door. Harlan stood there, envelope in hand, unopened. Behind him, half a step back in the hallway shadow, stood Caleb—dark curls falling over glasses, hoodie unzipped, expression calm but eyes already hungry.
Harlan stepped inside first, Caleb following without a word. The door clicked shut. The deadbolt turned.
Mia’s pulse slammed into her throat. She looked from one man to the other—Harlan’s broad, weathered frame filling the space, Caleb’s leaner, quieter presence like a coiled spring. Neither spoke at first. Harlan set the envelope on the kitchen counter with a soft clink; Caleb leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her as he had for months across the courtyard.
“Strip,” Harlan said quietly. Command, not request.
Mia’s fingers trembled only slightly as she untied the robe. Silk slid down her arms, pooled at her feet. She stood in the lace—nipples already tight, skin flushed, the open crotch leaving her exposed and glistening. The fairy lights glowed behind her, haloing her in amber.
Caleb’s gaze dropped—slow, deliberate—tracing the lace framing her hips, the slick shine between her thighs. “She’s wet already,” he said, voice low, almost clinical. “You trained her well.”
Harlan chuckled—dark, satisfied. “She trained herself. Just needed the right audience.”
He crossed to the bedroom doorway, jerked his head. “Bed. Now.”
Mia walked past them—hips swaying—into the golden glow of the fairy lights. She climbed onto the mattress, knelt in the center, knees wide, back arched, ass presented the way Harlan liked. The sheets still carried faint traces of last week’s solo session.
Harlan moved behind her—jeans unzipping, cock springing free. Caleb stayed at the foot of the bed—watching, silent—then slowly unbuttoned his jeans, freeing himself. He stroked once—slow—eyes locked on her exposed folds.
“Touch yourself,” Harlan ordered. “Let him see how wet you get for this.”
Mia reached back—fingers parting her cheeks wider, showing everything—then slid two fingers inside, curling against that spot while her thumb circled her clit. She moaned—low, needy—the sound carrying through the open window into the night.
Harlan stepped closer—cock dragging through her slickness, teasing her entrance. “Tell him,” he growled. “Tell him what you want tonight.”
Mia’s breath hitched. “I want both of you,” she whispered. “Watching ... fucking me ... filling me ... please.”
Caleb’s stroke sped up—eyes dark behind his glasses. “She’s begging already,” he said. “Didn’t even need to ask.”
Harlan pushed in—slow, relentless—stretching her wide until his hips met hers. He fucked her steadily—deep, controlled strokes—while she rubbed her clit in time. The fairy lights haloed them both; shadows danced across his clothed chest, her arched body, the wet shine where they joined.
He leaned down, mouth at her ear. “Tell me you want it. Both of us. Next month. Here.”
“I want it,” she cried—voice breaking as the orgasm built. “Both of you—watching—fucking me—please—”
He groaned—low, guttural—and drove in harder. She came first—walls clamping around him, cry raw and echoing—wetness flooding out around his cock. Harlan followed—hips snapping once, twice—flooding her deep with hot pulses that spilled out when he finally pulled free.
He stayed above her a moment—breathing ragged—then eased back. Wiped himself on her thigh. Zipped up.
“Next month,” he said quietly, standing. “Bring him. Or I will.”
Caleb tucked himself away—slow, deliberate—then leaned down, kissed her forehead almost tenderly. “You were perfect,” he murmured. “See you tomorrow night. Window. Lights on.”
They left together—door clicking shut—leaving her sprawled on the bed, cum leaking onto the sheets, fairy lights haloing the mess.
Mia stared at the open window—Caleb’s light still on across the courtyard. She knew he’d seen everything. Knew he’d watched Harlan claim her. Knew the invitation had just been extended.
She smiled—slow, wrecked, already wet again at the thought.
Next month couldn’t come fast enough.
*The Courtyard at Night*
The courtyard at night was a black void between the buildings—narrow as a coffin, hemmed in by high brick walls that seemed to lean inward under the weight of the sky. Moonlight struggled to penetrate, filtering through the dying maple’s skeletal branches in weak silver shards that scattered across the cracked concrete like broken glass. The air hung heavy and still—humid, carrying the faint, metallic tang of distant rain and the closer rot of overripe trash from the alley dumpsters. Weeds—tall, wiry, gone to seed—rustled faintly in a breeze that barely stirred the leaves, whispering against the chain-link fence like secrets too quiet to hear.
The dying maple stood at the center—trunk twisted and gnarled, bark peeling in long gray ribbons that exposed pale, scarred wood underneath. Branches clawed upward, thin and brittle, dropping occasional yellowed leaves that spiraled down in slow, lazy falls. The ground beneath was littered: cigarette butts ground into the dirt, a crumpled beer can glinting dully, shards of green glass from a broken bottle winking in the faint streetlamp glow spilling from the alley mouth. Shadows pooled deep here—blacker than night—turning every corner into a hiding place.
Two facing windows glowed above like mismatched eyes in the dark: Mia’s unit spilling soft golden fairy light downward, haloing the brick facade in amber warmth; Caleb’s across the divide burning steady white, a desk lamp casting sharp edges. The light from Mia’s window spilled into the courtyard—golden flecks dancing on the weeds, turning rain stains on the walls into shimmering veins, catching on the faint mist of humidity in the air.
Harlan’s silhouette emerged from her door—broad shoulders blocking the hallway light briefly before the door clicked shut. He stepped into the courtyard—boots crunching gravel—pausing under the maple’s canopy. Smoke from his earlier cigarette still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the rot. He tilted his head back—cap brim shadowing his eyes—and stared up at her window. The golden glow caught the side of his face: jaw set, faint stubble rasping when he swallowed, mouth curved in quiet satisfaction. Caleb’s light burned steady across the way—unmoving, watching.
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