My name’s Chip Campanelli. I’m a retired repair shop supervisor for a major airline. My wife and I invested wisely (her wisdom, my income) and by the time we were 49 years old, I was eligible for a 30 year pension and we had investments worth 2.8 million dollars. Our happy retirement lasted all of eight months before she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was well advanced and she died five months later. At least she got to see London and Paris and Rome and Zurich and Venice. She loved Venice more than all the other cities put together.
Our home was on the top floor of a condo in Cocoa Beach. It had cost us much less than market value when we bought it after the housing bubble burst.
One Saturday, I was in the lobby waiting for the elevator, when a young woman I didn’t know walked in carrying a double armload of groceries. She was a pretty, short-haired, green-eyed redhead covered in a light dusting of freckles, with a better-than-average body, “Need a hand with those?” I asked.
“Oh, would you? That’d be great. My fingers are slipping and I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”
I took one of the bags. “I’m Chip. What floor are you on?”
“I’m Roach,” she answered. “I’m on the forth floor, around the back.” She smiled ruefully. “In the cheap seats.”
The elevator arrived and we got in. I punched the button for her floor. In her apartment, I set the bag of groceries on her kitchen counter and was starting for the door when I noticed an exercise bike in the living room. It was in front of the TV, but nobody was going to be riding it. The front bolt holding the pedal mechanism in place was sheared off and the front of the assembly was resting on the tile floor. “When did that happen?” I asked her.
“Last week. I tried calling the company that made it, but they’re out of business. I guess I’ll have to borrow a wrench somewhere and get the screw thingy out, then take it to a hardware store and see if I can get another one.”
I squatted down and examined the bike. “Looks like a regular three-eighths bolt.” I took a rough measurement with my finger. “‘Bout three and a half inches. I have a ton of nuts and bolts in the garage. Give me a few minutes and I’ll get this fixed for you.”
“Wow, that’d be great! I’m not mechanical at all. I think there’s a screwdriver around here somewhere, but other than that, I don’t own any tools.”
“Be right back.” I have a zillion nuts and bolts and screws and fasteners that I “liberated” from the airplane shop. I selected a partitioned box of bolts and matching nuts in the right general size, my tool bag and my socket set. Back in Roach’s apartment, it took me only a few minutes to remove the old bolt and fit a new one. “This one won’t break,” I told her. “The original bolt was a cheap piece of crap. This one’s aircraft grade. It’ll last forever.” I spun the pedals. “Let me lube this for you.” Obviously, she’d never done any maintenance on the bike at all. I tightened the chain and got it running smoothly. “Try it now.”
Roach climbed aboard and started pedaling. Her face lit in a grin. “Holy shit, that’s amazing! It didn’t run this well when it was new!” She played with the tension adjustment, delighted with her bike.
I packed up my stuff and got ready to leave. “Glad I could help. I’m in 8A if you need anything else.”
Roach swung off the bike. “I’d like to pay you, but I don’t have any spare cash.”
I laughed. “Happy to help. I really don’t have much going on right now anyway.”
“You must be rich if you live up there, especially on the ocean side. Aren’t there just two apartments on that whole side?”
“Yeah, mine’s on the northeast corner. My wife and I bought the place a little over two years ago. She died late last year. Cancer. Now it’s just me.”
“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.” She thought for a few seconds. “Look, I don’t want to offend you, but maybe there’s a way I can pay you for helping me that doesn’t involve money.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, suspecting that I knew very well. At least I was hoping I knew.
“Well,” she said cautiously, “maybe I could give you a handjob.” She looked ready to back off and apologize if I reacted badly.
I smiled. “I think that would be a fair trade!”
Roach looked relieved. “I don’t usually offer to jerk off every man I meet, but you seem like a nice guy and I owe you for helping me. Why don’t you have a seat over there,” she pointed to an overstuffed chair, “and we’ll get going.”
I unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my pants. When I looked up, Roach had her top off and was reaching behind her for her bra clasp. She tilted her head to the side, looking hopeful. “Will this make it better for you?” She let the bra slide down her arms. Her breasts were medium size, round and full with tiny, pale pink nipples.
“Hell yeah! That’s perfect!” I stripped out of my pants and boxers and sat down. I had the hardest hard-on I could remember. I unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off to both sides.
Roach grabbed a thin cushion off one of her bar stools and tossed it at my feet. She knelt down and laid her hands on my thighs. “You ready?”
“Just one thing; how did you get the name Roach?”
Roach burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that? Here I am, half naked, on my knees, about to jerk your dick and you ask about my name?” She grasped my erection with one hand and cupped my balls with the other. “My real name’s Rochelle. I hate Rochelle. When I was in the 7th grade, some stupid boy called me Roach.” Roach’s hand stroked me and her fingers tickled my nutsac. “He was trying to insult me, but I thought it sounded cool.” She leaned forward and dribbled some spit on my erection. She spread the spit around and jerked me with a corkscrew motion. “That feel good?” I nodded. “Anyway, from then on I was Roach. I quit answering to Rochelle. My parents refused to call their only child ‘Roach’, but everyone else went along with it.” She added some more spit and licked the growing pool of pre-cum off the head of my dick. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not gonna blow you. I just wanted a taste.”
I slumped in the chair and watched Roach. I was honestly surprised that I hadn’t cum already. “Do you mind,” I asked, “if I touch your breasts?”
“That wasn’t part of the plan.” She dribbled some more spit on me and gave my dick another lick. “But since you asked so nicely, I guess it’s okay.” She straightened up and I caressed her boobs.
“My wife and I were married for 28 years. This is the first time since our engagement that I’ve had my hands on another woman’s breasts. Yours are very fine.” I sat back. “Thank you for that.”
Roach’s voice was slightly strained. “You’re welcome. You can do it again if you want to. In fact...” She got to her feet and unsnapped her shorts. She pushed them down, along with her thong and kicked them to the side. “You can touch me here if you want.” Roach had a thin carpet of light reddish curls over her vagina. When I touched her, she was slightly damp. My fingers moved on her, following old habits. She let down more wetness and moved her feet apart to give me better access to her center. “You can put your fingers in me if you want,” she said in a low voice. I slid two fingers into her slick tunnel and pumped slowly, searching the front wall of her vagina for the rough, raised area that was her G spot. Maybe, if I found it and it felt really good to her, just maybe I’d get more than a handjob. Roach felt amazing. In no time, her pussy was a warm, slippery wonderland. It had been over a decade since my wife had responded this quickly. I fingered Roach, squeezed her breasts and rubbed her nipples She sighed and reluctantly pushed my hands away. “Better stop that now. I don’t think I owe you more than that.” She dropped to her knees. “Sit back.
Roach’s hands, lubricated with copious amounts of saliva, glided over my cock. She licked my cock head again and smiled up at me. It was the sexiest smile I could recall. “That’s wonderful, Roach. It won’t be long now. Ahhhh, here it comes, ahhhh, god that’s good!” Cum splattered across my stomach and up to my chest. Roach continued jerking me, her smile a study in satisfaction as she watched my semen spurt. She gave my cock a long lick, from base to head, and stood up.
Roach walked into the kitchen and came back with a dish towel. “You can use this to clean up,” she said. She made no move to get dressed. As I took the towel and mopped my torso, Roach licked traces of semen off her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Thank you, Roach. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.”
“No sweat. I liked doing it. I always pay my debts. Always.”
“Well, you sure as hell paid that one.” I laughed. “With interest! I’ll never forget this!” I got dressed and gathered my tools.
Roach, still nude, walked me to the door. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “See you around.”
Three days later, on Tuesday evening, my doorbell rang. It was Roach. She seemed nervous.
“Hi. Can I come in and talk to you?”
I let her in and we sat on the deck, overlooking the Atlantic.
“Damn! That is some view!”
“Yeah, my wife loved it. This place is really too big for me, but it’s paid for and I don’t know where else to go.”
Roach sat quietly far a minute. “I want to talk to you about something.” She took a couple of deep breaths. “You’re probably going to throw me out, but I have to try.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked directly at me. “Here’s the thing; I make barely enough at work to live on. If nothing unexpected came up, I’d be alright. But something always comes up. Right now, I’m pretty far behind on my credit cards. I’m not buried in debt, but I keep getting farther and farther behind. I’m scared that it’s getting out of control.” Roach clasped her hands between her knees and kind of hunched up, her eyes on the deck. “So, I was wondering if you might be interested in doing what we did last weekend and maybe some other things.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “And maybe you’d be willing to pay me for it.” Roach sat perfectly still, staring at the deck.
I’d been leaning forward, listening to her speak. Now, I leaned back, rested my elbows on my chair arms and steepled my fingers. “Relax, Roach. I’m not going to throw you out. I’m willing to help you, but I’m not sure that paying you for sex is the best way. On the other hand, I’m not sure just giving you money...”
Roach cut me off. “No! I won’t take charity! I won’t take a loan, either! If I can’t keep up with my obligations now, I won’t be able to pay you back and I always pay my debts. I need more income and there’s only one thing I have to offer. If I can’t make a deal with you, I’ll have to find someone else.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Or anyone else. Whoever will pay me.”
I reached over and patted her shoulder. “Alright, don’t cry. What did you have in mind?”
Roach fumbled in her pocket for a Kleenex and blew her nose. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe $50 for a handjob, $100 for a blowjob, $200 for straight sex? Does that sound reasonable?”
My head was spinning. Reasonable? How the hell would I know? I’d never paid for sex in my life. “I guess it’s okay. I don’t have any way to tell.” Shit, I was starting to get an erection! “What’s your plan?”
“We can start now, if you want. You tell me what you want and when.” She looked scared and desirable at the same time. “Do you want me now?”
“Yes, god help me, I do want you. Let’s go inside.” I led her into my bedroom. “Let me undress you.” Roach was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top and sandals. “I want to touch you first.” I ran my hands over her body, her waist, her breasts, her ass, between her legs. “Raise your arms, please.” I pulled her top off. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were lovely and I explored them with both hands. I bent to suck her nipples. When I straightened up, Roach’s eyes were moist. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Yeah, I’m ready. I’m no virgin, you know. It’s just that I’ve never done it this way.” She gripped my erection through my shorts. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Or just put me how you want me and do it.” She snatched her hand away. “Oh, one thing; no anal. I won’t do that. I’ll blow you and let you screw me, but no anal.”
“That’s fine, Roach. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” I stripped off my shirt and pants. “Go ahead and take your pants off.” When she was naked, I led her to the bed. “Lie down, please. I want to look at you and touch you.” Roach’s body was a revelation. Her lovely young body was smooth and firm everywhere I touched her. I fingered her pussy, feeling her growing wetness. “I don’t have any condoms,” I said. “I haven’t used one since my wedding day. Since then, I only had sex with my wife. I don’t have any diseases.”
Roach nodded. “That’s what I figured. I’m clean. I’m a regular blood donor and they wouldn’t let me donate if my blood didn’t come up clean every time.” I had two fingers in her and she was stroking my erection. “I’m on the pill. You can cum in me all you want.”
“That’s good, because I want to cum in you right this minute.” I sucked a nipple. “You wouldn’t believe how turned on I am right now. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m not going to last very long at all once I’m inside you.”
Roach moved to the center of the bed and spread her legs. I crawled between her legs and pushed the head of my cock into her. “Last chance to change your mind.” Roach shook her head resolutely and I slid into her all the way. Maybe it was just the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in so long, but Roach’s pussy felt unbelievably warm and snug. My cock was made of iron. I held still inside her for a few moments and then started thrusting. I desperately wanted this to last, but in less than a minute I lost it. Roach must have felt me cumming and she could certainly see it on my face. Her expression was unreadable. I stayed inside her and looked into her eyes from very close range. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to process this. It feels so strange, doing it like this. No passion, no affection, just a quick screw.” Her voice grew soft and shaky. “A quick screw for money.” I started to pull out and she hooked her heels behind my thighs to keep me inside her. “Stay there. I need to get used to this. You’re still hard. Keep going if you want to. I’m stronger than you might think. Cum again if you can.” Her voice broke for just an instant. “No extra charge.”
I moved inside her slowly, savoring the slippery tightness of her. Roach was right about the absence of passion, but that didn’t make what we were doing any less erotic to me. If anything, the lack of passion made it more stimulating. I could concentrate on maximizing my pleasure without much concern for her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but her reward for doing this was money, not orgasms. Roach tilted her hips up to meet me and used her heels to encourage my thrusts. I was 51 years old and was surprised to find that I hadn’t lost my erection. I started to think I’d be able to cum again, but after a while, despite the delicious sensations, my erection wilted. The cost of getting older, I guess. I rolled off Roach and lay on my side, stroking her body.
“Would you care to take a shower with me?” I asked.
“Sure, what the hell. We’re both kind of sweaty.”
My master bathroom has a tile and glass shower big enough for several adults. I started the water running and we got in. Roach soaped me up, not neglecting my genitals. I soaped her body and rinsed her three or four times, enjoying her contours. She kept my cock soapy and before long I was hard again. Roach washed the soap off and sat on the tile bench. I stood in front of her and she began sucking me. Neither of us said a word. Roach’s blowjob skills were nothing to write home about, but having my dick sucked with hot water cascading over us, Roach’s body slick and glistening, my fingers in her wet hair, her tongue dancing erotically around my stiff cock was something I’d never experienced, even with my wife. “I’m going to cum, Roach,” I warned her. My legs were shaking. “Real soon.” I wanted her to be ready to spit me out if she didn’t want cum in her mouth. Roach didn’t change a thing and when I came, gasping and spurting time after time, she took as much of me into her mouth as she could. She opened her lips enough to let cum run down her chin, dripping onto her breasts and onto the bench. Roach kept me in her mouth long after my spasms had ceased.
We drank some wine with cheese and crackers on the darkened deck and made small talk. I had some stories that Roach found amusing and she had a few of her own. An hour later, we had soft, gentle sex on one of my oversized chaise lounges. It took me much longer to reach orgasm this time and Roach was patient, alternately riding and sucking me. I finally came inside her, my hands on her breasts, her body silhouetted against the stars.
I handed Roach five $100 bills and she kissed my cheek. “I’ll have to hit the bank and stock up on cash,” I joked.
“You have my number,” she said softly. “Let me know when you want me.” She gave me a wan smile. “I’m good with this, you know. I’m glad it’s you and not some creepy asshole.” She touched my face. “I’m really glad it’s you.”
Roach worked from 10:00 to 6:00 Monday thru Friday. If I woke up horny, as I usually did, I’d send her a text that said ;-). If she had time, which it seems that she always did, she’d send :o, meaning that she’d be dropping by about 8:30 to give me a blowjob. If I sent :D, she’d know I wanted to have sex and she’d send J. Screwing took longer and she had to shower afterwards, so she’d come at about 8:00. Using Roach’s body, I experimented with every sexual position that I thought might be interesting or fun. Roach was strong and flexible and seemed perfectly content to let me have her in any strange or contorted position I could dream up. Using four or five positions in one session wasn’t unusual. I had her blow me standing, sitting and on the bed in the classic position and lying on our sides. I tried it with her head hanging off the side of the bed, plunging into her mouth, but I tended to go in too deep and she had problems with gagging. I had no interest in cumming on her face or tits. Roach always let me cum in her mouth and she always swallowed. I’ve always loved being sucked off, but my wife only blew me every couple of months. I paid Roach to do it almost every day. Cumming in Roach’s mouth, with her sucking hard, her tongue busy on my cock, was a thrill that never got old and, as she learned what gave me the most pleasure, her skills improved dramatically. I renegotiated our deal and started paying her $200 for blowing me.
Roach tried her best to keep our sessions impersonal and businesslike, but as the weeks and months passed, it became impossible. When we had sex, she began having orgasms, first quiet and undramatic, then louder and more obvious. We never kissed, other than her lips brushing my cheek when she left with the cash she’s earned, but her embrace when she came on my cock became tighter and more urgent. She wouldn’t permit me to go down on her, even when I offered to pay extra. “Too personal,” she said. “More personal than me cumming in your mouth?” I asked. “That’s business,” she insisted and wouldn’t discuss it any further.
Over the next year, I spent a ridiculous amount of money having sex with Roach. I didn’t mind in the slightest. The money was inconsequential and the sex was priceless. I got a prescription for daily Cialis and had my testosterone levels checked. My T was a tad low and my doctor was very understanding. I got a ‘script for testosterone gel and, in addition to getting a libido bump, my joint stiffness and morning backaches vanished. I was ready for Roach almost every day. Often she’d suck me off in the morning and be back for sex or another blowjob that evening. I spent an hour in the gym three times a week and soon I felt and looked better than I had in years.
Fifteen months after we’d started, Roach rang my doorbell one evening for what I expected to be one of our regular sex sessions. When I answered the door, Roach was there with a slightly older woman. “Chip,” she said, “this is Andrea. She’s a friend of mine. Can we come in?”
“Sure, of course.” I escorted them to the deck. “Would you like something to drink?”
“A glass of that nice Pino would be good,” said Roach.
I poured three glasses and sat facing them. “So, what’s up?”