When I was a senior in college, I helped a free-spirited ginger friend of mine arrange the reverse harem free use living situation of her dreams.

Liz sat straddling my naked hips, my slick cock still embedded inside her pink slit as she oozed my own cum all over me. After a good, hard fuck, her pussy had a tendency to get red and swollen, almost brightening to the same tone as the light auburn hair covering her messy crotch. Her face was flushed too, and her ample red curls disheveled in a frizzy way she’d certainly end up complaining about in the morning, but for now, our sweat dampened her hair enough to keep her mane just barely under control. A bruise was already forming on one of her petite, A-cup boobs where I had grabbed her hard while fucking her, and if past behavior were any indication, she’d want a matching bruise on the other boob sometime in the morning too.

“Fuck,” she said with a sigh, a sigh tinged with the slightest amount of regret. After a really rough fuck, she would want to be cuddled, sometimes allowed to cry softly in the nape of my neck, as though the bruising of her cervix had given license for other unrelated feelings to dribble out along with tears and cum. “That was good.”

“Mmhmm,” I murmured. I was about ready to go to sleep. It was well after three in the morning. Liz had actually woken me up with a text—serendipitously, my ringer had been on—sometime around one, asking if she could come over. This wasn’t totally unusual—we probably hooked up once or twice a month, sometimes more, depending on Liz’s dalliances with her other casual lovers.

This was sometime in autumn 2011, for reference. Liz and I were both seniors in college. Our last year had just begun and along with the excitement inflecting every moment, every night out, every “Oh, is this our last time to…” sort of thing, there was also a thread of anxiety. The recession was still palpable, jobs still seemed scarce, but we were still caught up in the Obama optimism of the era, and besides, the recession had made stuff cheap, at least. I think a chicken burrito at Chipotle was 4.95? Maybe 5.95? Just imagine.

Anyway.

Liz draped herself over me, her ginger curls forming a curtain around our heads as she kissed me lazily.

“You know what I like about you,” she said, softly, in between nips at my chin and cheeks. “Besides how good you fuck me—is that you don’t kick me out right away. I can actually, like, catch my breath after you rearrange my internal organs.”

I snorted. Yes, cute little Liz was absolutely an unrepentant slut. We’d lived on the same floor our freshman year in the dorms and after a bad breakup, she’d declared that she wouldn’t have another committed boyfriend until she was twenty-five, and proceeded to put out for virtually any guy who came knocking. I was one of the first, and I still remember the giddy teenage sex in her bed, where there were definitely stains left by other guys passing through.

I liked her; liked her a lot, actually, but she liked attention, and if you gave her attention when she was really craving it, she’d be yours for the night or even longer if you kept things interesting. But the thing with Liz was that she always moved on, and you had to be ready for that—so long as you could accept that this was just the way she was, all you had to do was to wait for her to make her way back around to you.

Liz placed her face in the pit of my neck and shoulder, and bit my collarbone gently, one of several places she liked to nibble. I ran my fingers along the prominent vertebrae of her back. She was always skinny, always just on the verge of being too skinny, but that wasn’t uncommon in the 2000s, and so I never really noticed, I’m sorry to say. My cock was still half inside of her. She liked to go to sleep with you inside of her if she could, and loved to be woken up by the hardening of a needy organ deep inside of her, and that’s what I figured she wanted tonight—to fall asleep on top of me, and wake up whenever I did to go for another ride.

“If I wanted to maybe stay here for a bit,” she said. “What would you say to that?”

“Like, tomorrow night too?”

“I was thinking more like the rest of the semester.” When I didn’t answer right away, she added. “And maybe next semester too.”

“Don’t you have an apartment? Like… a really nice apartment?” I was sure I’d been over to her place half a dozen times, since I was friends with some of her roommates as well, and always found myself jealous—especially because it sounded like the rent was only slightly higher than mine.

She raised her head to look at me, offering a bashful grimace.

“About that…”

I won’t go through all the details here, but the long and short of it was, no, she didn’t have an apartment—she’d been illegally subletting an extremely nice condo with friends, and the whole scheme had finally blown up. In the process, she’d had a falling out with a roommate—Liz’s fault, as far as I could tell, and I was obviously sympathetic to her—and most of her stuff had ended up flung down the trash chute a few hours prior to her asking me for a place to stay.

“Please? I don’t eat much.” You could say that again. “And, you know, we can fuck whenever you want. Literally whenever. I’ll pay my rent in sex.”

I made a face.

“Why wouldn’t you just pay rent in, like, money, like a normal person?”

There was more to the day’s events. I knew Liz had a difficult relationship with her parents and when they learned about the subletting fiasco, her dad declared that she was cut off for the rest of the semester—she could either come home and take the semester off, or find a way to earn money for rent.

“And so, you came over here to offer yourself as a sex slave in exchange for a bed?”

“Yeah, basically,” she said with a sheepish grin. I loved how ashamed she could be about how unashamed she was about sex. It was a long-standing joke-but-maybe-not-a-joke between us that she wanted to be my sex slave. I could never quite tell if she was serious when she said that I was her favorite guy to fuck, or if she said that to every guy who gave her attention, but every time we hooked up, she’d sigh and lament: “Babe, when are you going to put me in handcuffs and make an honest woman out of me?”

“I don’t know how my roommates would feel about that.”

I had two roommates: Bruno and Will. They were both nerds, but nerdy in their own way. In fact, we were all nerds, Liz included—to see her in class or the library, she’d give early 2010’s hipster girl nerd, with her thick glasses, her tight Matt and Kim t-shirt, her dog-eared copy of The Bell Jar or Song of Solomon.

Bruno had been my roommate starting freshman year, and even though we hadn’t known each other before coming to college, we’d hit it off well. He was your archetypical gentle giant. Hailing from Texas, he was a bit shorter than me, but had a linebacker’s build and he’d put it to good use for our DIII football team until an injury cut his admittedly lackluster football career short. In fact, I think he was relieved—he was a lover of ancient poetry, and much would have rather been left alone to translate Ovid or Sappho, but playing football had been all but required for husky boys in his small Texas town. Now, he finally had an excuse to quit it, and he couldn’t have been happier.

Except that this seemed to have precipitated the breakup with his long-term, long-distance girlfriend back home. He’d been in a gloomy mood for the last six months ever since it happened, and while I gently tried to suggest he get out there and talk to girls at parties, he tended to stay in playing video games with our other roommate.

This was Will, a nerd in a different way. He was, let’s say, autistic before it was cool. We’d grown up together, and I think I was the person closest to him besides his parents. He remains one of the two or three smartest people I’ve ever met. He was quite high functioning, and had a wicked sense of humor, but profound social anxiety and shyness. He rarely went out except to go to classes, and usually stayed in his room, watching anime, or played video games in the living room. Female friends of mine often asked what his deal was, because he was quite striking, visually—not exactly attractive, but not ugly, either. He was tall, with platinum blonde hair, and stark features, an intense gaze, and a dry wit that could easily offend if you weren’t expecting it. Needless to say, he was a virgin, and though he’d had girls interested in him ever since high school, he’d never been able to bring himself to actually consummate anything.

“I mean, would Bruno and Will want to… you know? Share me?” Liz asked. We regarded one another for a second as the plan blossomed out of thin air, appearing fully formed somewhere in the empty space between our two brains.

I didn’t think I really wanted to date Liz, and I was already comfortable not being exclusive with her. I had other girls I hooked up with, and I enjoyed the freedom of being single—the excitement of spotting a cute freshman in a coffee shop on Monday and having her in my bed by Friday. It’s a bit hard to explain now to Gen Z, I think, but Millennials had a promiscuity in our culture back in the day. Certainly not everyone, sure, or at all times, but there was a sense of openness that girls like Liz epitomized.

But on the other hand, I wouldn’t mind if she slept with me more, and with fewer guys overall. Having her live in the apartment could accomplish that. And what’s more, it was clear to me that both my roommates needed to get laid, and there were few people I trusted more to do it than Liz.

We stayed up another hour, hatching our plan, before finally falling asleep. The next morning, I summoned Bruno and Will into the living room, where Liz joined us. Liz was over often enough that Will knew her, but remained too shy to say much of anything to her. Bruno, however, had lived in our dorm and knew her almost as well as I did, though certainly not in the carnal sense. Yet, at least.

I gave them a run down of Liz’s situation, and Liz made her proposal. She’d even brought a white board out of my room to write on as she elaborated each point.

“I’ll live here, rent free,” she said, creating one column that read “LIZ GETS.” Underneath it, she wrote “place to live, food, etc.” Then, she wrote “YOU GET” over the other column opposite it. “And I’ll basically be somewhere between your live-in girlfriend and your housekeeper.” She wrote “SEX” in the second column, followed by “COOKING” and “CLEANING.” Then, when Bruno and Will just stared at her, she quickly, sheepishly wrote “FRIENDSHIP” under both columns, and then, after considering her chart, added the “SEX” to her column as well.

“So,” Will said, finally, licking his lips. “You’re basically proposing a sort of free-use sexual slavery situation?”

Liz and I both nodded.

“Essentially, yeah,” she said. “And I won’t have sex with anyone who isn’t in this room. Unless you tell me to. But even then, that’ll be a conversation. But for the record, I’m cool with girls.”

I hadn’t even though about that, and my cock quite literally twitched.

“So, you’d do anything we ask?” Bruno said.

Liz shrugged.

“Pretty much. Within reason.” She turned to me. “What’s off the table?”

“I mean, you should be the one to answer that.”

“But I can’t think of anything right now that I wouldn’t do if you really wanted me to,” she said. “I mean, okay—nothing illegal, so like, don’t ask me to fuck a dog or something awful like that? And I’m not, like, going to eat your shit or anything crazy. You can hurt me a bit, but if it’s, like, going to be permanent, we have to have a very long conversation about it first. But—” And now, she flipped up the shirt she was wearing—actually one of mine, since she had practically no clothing left—to show her bruised breasts. “This sort of stuff, I like a lot, so if you want to get rough with me, more power to you, beat me up.” She grinned, obviously pleased at the shocked looks on my roommates’ faces. “Or if you want me to be mean to you, I can do that. That’s not my first choice but I’m definitely down if you like it. Basically, you can whip me, or I can whip you, whatever you like, so long as I don’t have to pay rent.”

She dropped her shirt back down.

“I can’t help but notice,” Will said. “That there are but three bedrooms in this humble abode. Where should you sleep?”

“I figured I’d rotate between your beds. I’m pretty little, so I don’t take up much room, but if it gets annoying, I can sleep on the couch, I guess, or you can send me to someone else’s bed.”

Will nodded, a serious look on his face even though he was blushing.

“I think,” he said—this was the most I’d ever heard him talk in Liz’s presence. “I’d better discuss this with my co-habitants.”

Liz grinned.

“Sure, take all the time you need, boys. I’ll just be in the other room.”

She stood to leave but Will stopped her.

“One question, Liz, that will help me make up my mind,” he said, in a serious tone that I knew from experience was half-ironic. “You are… a natural redhead, correct?”

She gave him a faux-exasperated smile, much more affectionate than anything else, and tugged the shorts I’d given her to wear down to just above her knees, showing off her naked slit, and the tangle of bright orange pubic hair announcing the answer to the question.

Once Liz was gone, I turned back to my roommates.

“So,” Bruno began. “This is for real? I’m not just dreaming this?”

Will nodded seriously.

“She is highly attractive,” he said. “No offense intended to anyone here, but what does she want with us?”

Bruno and I exchanged apprehensive smiles. He remembered her meltdown freshman year.

“Liz is kind of messy,” I said, delicately. “I think she’s burned a lot of bridges.” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how much I was trying to justify this because I wanted it, wanted her—but I felt like this would be good for all of us. “I think having more consistency in her life would be good. And accountability.”

It didn’t take long to agree: Liz would live with us, and in exchange, she’d be our free-use sex slave. We called her back in and she punched the air when we told her what we’d decided.

We drew up a basic contract then, that outlined everyone’s expectations and responsibilities. I was honestly surprised that Liz was so into this—she wasn’t really one for rules—but she had plenty of ideas, especially for rules that would apply to her.

“I think it should like bed and breakfast,” she said. “So, I’ll make breakfast and dinner every night at a set time, and if you’re not here for it, I’ll save your portion and put it in the fridge. I’ll go grocery shopping once a week, but I’d like at least one of you to come help with that. You can decide amongst yourselves who goes when. And if you feel like I’m not fulfilling my responsibilities, you should feel free to punish me.”

“How, er, would we punish you, Liz?” Will asked, suddenly very interested.

“However you’d like, silly,” she said to him, sweetly, and leaned over the table to kiss his forehead. “That’s the point, right? It shouldn’t be up to me to decide. I can offer suggestions, but it’s not my call.”

Will swallowed heavily and nodded.

Beyond all that, we decided on a series of safe words. I’m ashamed to say that even though Liz and I had been having quite rough sex for several years now, we’d never really had that conversation—we were young and inexperienced, I guess, and what’s more, I think we knew each other well enough that we had a good sense when something was off.

I can still remember once, when Liz was sucking me off after a Halloween party during which I had imbibed way too much, when she paused and looked up at me, squinting—“Are you okay, dude?” she asked, and I thought I felt totally fine up until that moment, but then I realized she was right to ask, because I was not okay, Gerard Way, and ran to the bathroom just in time.

But the stakes here were much higher and so we outlined and practiced a red-green-yellow safe word system. Plus, we practiced checking in on Liz in situations where she couldn’t verbally consent.

“So,” Liz said, holding an empty beer bottle in front of her face. “If I’m here and I can’t say anything—I’m gonna’ do this—”

We watched in aroused awe as she swallowed half the beer bottle until we heard the gawking gag of it hitting the back of her throat. Drool collected at the corners of her lips. She winced a bit and then, looking intently at each of us, went “UH-UH-UH-UH” while shaking her head. It was pretty clear what the intent was. Likewise, she sat on Bruno’s lap and let him loop a meaty forearm around her neck and choke her. Her eyes widened in surprise—I did this with her from time to time, but Bruno was much bigger and stronger than me, probably than most of the guys she went to bed with. She quickly tapped his signaling that she wasn’t going to be conscious much longer.

We were just about to sign our names to the document when Will asked another question.

“Shouldn’t this all, perhaps, be contingent on all of us getting a clean bill of health? I mean—Bruno and I are not exactly Lotharios but you—” He turned to me. “Have been known to play the field. And Liz, er, not to offend you or anything but…”

She placed a hand on his.

“I know. I’m more than a little slutty,” she said, gently, squeezing his hand. Will blushed.

“Liz and I had unprotected sex last night,” I pointed out. “So this shouldn’t stop her and I from, you know, getting started today. But until we can prove that everyone is—clean—I think you two should, you know, wrap it up.”

With that final point clarified, all signed the pseudo-legal contract and sat back, feeling quite satisfied with ourselves, despite not having done anything.

“Er, what now?” Bruno asked, finally.

“I’m yours to use, I guess,” Liz said with a shrug and a smile. She beamed at us, waiting for someone to make the first move. I felt it only gentlemanly to give my roomies a chance to try her out first, since I was already well-acquainted with her body and its ins and outs, but neither Bruno or Will made a move.

That’s when it dawned on me—Will was a virgin, and Bruno, thanks to his long distance girlfriend and their recent break-up, had ended up practically celibate for huge chunks of college.

“Maybe it would help if we start off with a demonstration of some of the fun ways we can use our new Liz?” I suggested, and Liz herself grinned at the suggestion that she was some sort of appliance. She’d take this on eagerly, referring to herself in the third person on occasion, especially when it came to things “your Liz” could help with—insomnia, anxiety, and depression could all be banished with a few treatments from your new Liz!

I took Liz’s hand, and led her to our dining room table, in the same room—a fairly filthy piece of furniture Bruno and Will had saved from the trash. Most of our furniture, in fact, was scavenged. Bruno had a great talent for finding and spotting deals in the wild, and, well, Will and I were good at helping to haul them home.

Liz sat on the table’s edge and took off her shirt, and then shimmied out of my gym shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination as my roommates watched with mouths hanging open.

“So,” I said. “This is how you use her.” I’m sorry, Junot Diaz.

I leaned down to kiss her, and put a hand on her throat. I felt her stiffen at once, thrilling at my touch as I tighten my grip.

“Liz loves it when you choke her, but you’ve got to be gentle. Can’t show any bruises, or else people might start asking questions.”

Liz herself didn’t try to add anything to this explanation—she just lolled her head back in bliss as I kissed and choked her. Few things got her in the mood faster, and the feeling of her soft, vulnerable throat beneath my fingers, the way her pulse quickened as I held her tight, always excited me to no end.

“She loves to be kissed, of course. In general, even if you’re rough with her, she likes a lot of affection. Isn’t that right, Liz?”

Liz nodded from my grip around her throat, and thrust her chest forward, subtly indicating where she wanted me to explore next.

“You can be rough with her tits,” I said, and quite unceremoniously slapped her chest. She gasped and reeled slightly. A red handprint was quickly developing over her pale, slightly freckled boobs. “She doesn’t have a lot of meat here—” I continued.

“Hey!” Liz interjected, making a mock pout.

“But that just makes them more sensitive.”

I leaned down to suckle one of her nipples and she whimpered happily.

“S’more like it,” she murmured. I put my hand between her legs and she opened her thighs happily for me.

“Liz cums pretty easily, which is probably one of the reasons she’s slutty, so if we’re going to keep her satisfied around her, we’ve got to make her cum a couple times a day, at least. Otherwise, she gets moody and grumpy.”

Liz let out a moan as my fingers found her wet slit. Her pussy all but suckled me inside.

“Fuck you, but it’s true,” she grunted.

“Liz won’t necessarily cum from penetration alone, unless she’s on top or if you get lucky with the angle,” I said. As I spoke, I realized I actually knew a lot about her, sexually—more than I knew about any other girl, more than I knew about girls I had dated. I’d probably slept with Liz more than any other girl, and I’d accumulated something like three years of institutional knowledge with her.

“If she’s already cum once, you can get her off by fingering her G-spot and pressing down on her belly. She’ll probably squirt and make a big mess if you do that.” I demonstrated this, showing how to hook my fingers into her and rub the spongy nodule of flesh inside her pussy that, perversely, a post on a pick-up artist forum had told me about, and which I’d introduced to Liz one snowy night our freshman year.

“Th-they can find that out for themselves…” Liz whimpered. “You don’t need to give away all the cheat codes…”

Bruno and Will crowded around as I manipulated her clit, teasing the pink, meaty little nub without directly touching it. Within a few minutes, Liz was on the edge.

“Of course, you can just stop,” I said, and took my hands away. Liz had been squeezing her eyes closed but now they shot open and she reached for my hand.

“No, no, no, baby, no, please… Pwease…” she said, pouting, panting. I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my cock, quashing the feeling of embarrassment at doing this in front of my roommates—of old friends. But Liz’s pouting lips were inviting as ever and they parted as I slid myself inside of her.

“You can really face fuck her rough, but if you’re too hard, she might puke on you, so fair warning.”

Liz forced her face off my dick.

“They do NOT need to know about that,” she said, blushing fiercely before taking my cock back into her mouth and suckling at it angrily. I pushed forward, feeling it catch at the back of her throat as she gagged. When I finally let her go, she gasped as she pulled sloppily off my cock, a rope of spit still connecting her mouth to my swollen shaft.

“She should have calmed down enough, so let’s get up close and personal with another way to have fun with Liz,” I said, kneeling between her knees. “Bruno, you know all about this but Will, you might want to get a closer look. If you ever need her to cum fast for whatever reason, eating her out gets her going quick. Big surprise there, I know. Start by licking her slit and the, you know, pussy lips, for a while before you go for the clit.”

I demonstrated, taking her lips into my mouth and suckling at them as Liz moaned appreciatively, bucking her hips. I ran my tongue up and down along her slit, carefully avoiding touching her clit, and just as I had predicted, she was wailing before long. Once I finally allowed my tongue to touch her clit, she jumped, and it only took a few seconds of devoted tongue lashing before I felt her start to spasm in ecstasy.

“This is truly a masterclass,” Will said, in unironic awe as I pulled away from her fragrant ginger hole.

“Now for the fun stuff,” I said, standing up. I grabbed Liz hard by the hair, making her yelp through her post-orgasmic glow as I pressed a cummy kiss to her lips. I laid her back on the table and pressed my cock against her wet slit.

“Mmm, yesssss,” she hissed as I let my cock slide up and down her swollen lips before it finally fit inside of her.

“You should feel free to take her in any position you like,” I continued, grunting in pleasure as I fucked her. “And don’t think you have to make her cum before you fuck her. It’ll just make our lives easier if she’s kept properly, you know, warmed up and satisfied.”

“If you boys make me cum like that a few times a day, I swear to god I won’t ever complain about a single thing,” Liz moaned, wrapping her legs around my waist as I fucked her. Her pussy was tight, proportionate to her small body—I think she was 5’1 or 5’2, perhaps, though her mass of red curls often made her seem a bit taller. I leaned over her, putting my hand on her throat as I fucked her, and she winced in pleasure. I could tell she was close, and maybe even had a small orgasm right before I blew my load deep inside of her.

As I slid out of her, I grabbed her by the hair again and directed her face to my half-flaccid cock. She took me in her mouth without a word, hungrily slurping at my cock and cleaning me, even as she dripped all over our dining room table.

“And that’s really all there is to it,” I said. “Liz, clean up the mess you’re making.”

I pointed to the pool of my cum on the table and she cupped one hand over her pussy to keep more from dripping out before putting her face in the puddle, slurping it up obediently.

“Good girl,” I said, and spanked her affectionately.

Once I’d gotten her cleaned up with a paper towel, and once she’d cleaned up the mess she made, I turned her over so that she was bent over the table, ass up in the air. I spread her butt cheeks, showing off her asshole and the sloppy, swollen pussy I’d just ridden.

“Now, Liz is generally pretty open to anal,” I said, spreading her cheeks as wide as I could to spread her butthole, showing the glistening inner pink ring of the hole. It was already slick from her juices and my cum, but you’d be forgiven for being unable to imagine how the little hole would accommodate a man’s cock. “But lube or Vaseline will help. Liz, what do you think they should know about fucking you in the ass?”

“If you don’t use lube, then you have to be really, really, really nice to me afterwards, and also take me to the ER if my ass is gushing blood,” she said. I wondered if that had happened to her. Certainly not on my watch. “Um, and like, it is still my butt, so unless it gets really clean, there’s probably going to be a bit of poop.”

I let her butt cheeks clap closed and she made a soft noise of disappointment.

“You’re not going to fuck my butt?”

“You want me to?”

“Well, you got me all worked up, showing off my butt, I just thought naturally that’s what’s coming next…”

Suddenly, Bruno cleared his throat.

“Could I jump in and grab a condom and try out her ass?”

“By all means!” Liz said. I gave Bruno a thumbs-up. He produced a condom from his wallet, and stood, unzipping his pants. I tried not to stare too much at his dick, but I was impressed at the girth. Liz glanced back and let out a soft moan.

“Oh, Lord, Bruno, you’re going to murder me.”

“I’ll be, uh, gentle,” he said.

“Don’t bother,” she said with a shrug. “I’m yours to use, remember?”

I brought a tube of Astroglide from my room and Bruno lubed up his condom clad cock. I went to grab a beers for the four of us, and placed Liz’s off to the side.

“That’s your reward for taking it in the ass.”

“My reward is someone is going to snuggle me really good tonight,” Liz said as Bruno lined up his cock. Will watched silently from the sidelines, as did I, while Bruno’s cock inched into her tightness.

“Jesus Christ, she’s tight,” Bruno said with a laugh. “Kat never let me do this…”

Kat was his ex. Liz let out a moan between clenched teeth as Bruno’s cock slid slowly but surely into her soft, tight hole.

“That bitch,” she said, through gritted teeth. “This is what you need a Liz for!”

It probably only took a minute or two, but it felt like an hour or more before Bruno was fully buried in Liz.

“How’s it feel?” I asked her, gently, stroking her sweaty forehead and pulling some red curls away from her tear-filled blue eyes.

“It’s worse with a condom,” she said. “Skin… uh… slides easier, I guess. You’d all better get clean STI tests, I swear to god.”

I snorted and let her have a sip of my beer as Bruno began to thrust into her, making a lewd squelching sound. There’s no way around it—it smelled like ass. Porn always presents sex as being a clean, almost clinical experience, but in reality, there are a lot of pungent smells associated with bending a girl over and sodomizing her. Somehow, that almost made it better though—I wouldn’t have been turned on by the smell of her ass on its own, but in this context, it further drove home how taboo the act was, as though we were being punished in real time by making her do something so humiliating and painful.

Once Bruno found his pace, fucking her, he really got into it. I was so used to Bruno the gentle giant, I never imagined what he’d look like fucking. He pinned Liz down to the table, smashing his hips into her as she wailed. He forced a finger into her mouth, which she suckled on eagerly. Good move, I thought. Save that one for later.

Bruno didn’t last long in her ass, which is good, because Liz seemed absolutely destroyed by the process. She was crying and writhing, wincing in pain and pleasure right up to the end, and once Bruno slid his dick out of her butt, she hung her head and let out a long, low: “Fuuuuuuck.”

“How you doing, kiddo?” I asked.

“I’m good, I’m good,” she said. “That was just…”

And she said some truly heinous, disturbing shit that I won’t repeat here. We all guffawed as Liz hobbled into the kitchen for more paper towels to clean everything up.

“You,” she said, breathlessly, pointing a trembling finger at Will. “We doing this?”

“I believe I would prefer the, er, unmediated experience of Liz,” Will mumbled. We all stared at him for a moment.

“Oh,” I said, and interpreted: “Will wants to go in bareback once we’ve all been tested.”

“Yes, precisely.”

After that, it seemed a little mean to make Liz cook after getting her guts fucked out, and besides, we didn’t have much in the way of groceries, and so we ended up getting pizza and more beer to celebrate our newfound live-in sex toy. Since Liz had slept in my bed the night before, she went to bed cuddled up in Bruno’s big, hair arms. When I got up to pee in the middle of the night, I heard her passionate squeals and Bruno’s grunts and gave a silent thumbs up to his bedroom door in the dark.

It would be hard to overstate how much our lives changed in the next week. Everyone’s STI test came back clean, and so condoms were all but banished—I had a few girls I hooked up with that I promised to continue using rubbers with, but otherwise, no one else in the house would need them.

I wasn’t sure how Liz would do with the cooking and cleaning, but much to my surprise, she threw herself into it and seemed to really enjoy it. It definitely was not a tradwife thing—she was clean by our standards as college aged men who had previously never cleaned their bathroom and only washed their sheets when compelled to by our visiting mothers—but I think we showed so much genuine appreciation that Liz herself was surprised by how much she loved doing chores around the apartment.

That first week, after she excitedly showed me how she’d gotten a stubborn stain out of a shirt of mine, and I’d thanked her heartily and kissed her, she broke down crying in my arms.

“It’s stupid, but no one’s ever thanked me for something like that before,” she said. We talked about her family, about feeling unappreciated by friends and lovers, and before long, she was in my lap with her legs wrapped around me, riding me slow and kissing me deep.

I liked cooking, and so I ended up helping out with that more than was strictly necessary, as far as the pseudo-contract was concerned. Part of it, I think, was that we had fun playing house, going to the grocery store together and lugging everything home. I still felt a bit strange about the whole thing—in retrospect, I think maybe I was in love with Liz, but we’d both convinced ourselves that we couldn’t and wouldn’t date, and so this was a way to be together.

What’s more, Bruno, who had been terminally gloomy for months, perked up almost overnight. It turned out all he needed was to drop a load in Liz’s eager mouth or pussy a few times a day and he was chattier than I’d ever seen him.

The only odd thing that first week was Will. He occasionally groped Liz, as she reported to me, but always made an excuse if she dropped to her knees to use her mouth or tried to lead him over to a couch or his bedroom. He also willingly passed on his turn to have Liz in his bed for the night, and once he’d done that three times in a row, she came to me, perplexed.

“I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I even asked him if he wanted to shower with me, in case it was like a cleanliness thing.” Considering that Will had been fine with our disgusting bathroom in the pre-Liz times, I doubted it was that. “I just feel like, you know, I’ve gotten the sword and shield but I can’t find the bow and I can’t beat the level.”

Liz, as a conventionally attractive and popular girl who played sports in grade school and high school, despite her latent nerdiness, had never really delved into video games. Most evenings at our apartment featured at least one of us playing Xbox 360 or Switch on our comically oversized CRT TV, another of Bruno’s scavenges. At first, she showed little interest in video games but one night she stayed up late smoking a joint while Will replayed Ocarina of Time and it seemed to have made an impression on her.

I accompanied Liz to Will’s room to see if there was anything wrong. After all, I’d known him longer than almost anyone besides his immediate family.

I still remember Will lying on his bed, blushing and staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“You and Bruno,” he said, finally. “You have a very specific way of playing with Liz. I think I’d prefer something different.”

I didn’t immediately understand but Liz did. She pushed past me and sat next to him on the bed, leaning over him to fix his glasses and push his hair out of his eyes.

“Will, is it that you want me to take the lead? Maybe even… dominate you a bit?”

Will nodded silently.

“I won’t be mean, unless you want me to be,” she said, smiling slyly. “But I think we can definitely do that. You just need to tell me what you’d like, okay?”

“I…” Will began, and after several starts and stops, he got it out: “I want you to sit on my face.”

Liz giggled sweetly and kissed him.

“Baby, I’d love nothing more than to sit on your face.”

Liz stripped down and I leaned against the doorframe, watching, as she straddled his face. She gasped as she pressed her butt and pussy down onto his mouth and nose, grinding against him. A flush crept over her chest, a look that I knew meant she was particularly enjoying something.

“Oh my god, baby, you’re so eager!” she squealed. “I wish I’d known this is what you wanted! Fuck!”

And then Liz made eye contact with me and stuck out her tongue triumphantly as she rode my roommate into oblivion. After she came, I went to grab a beer and when I walked by Will’s room again, I saw Liz sitting on his lap, straddling him as she bounced and rode him. She held up three fingers, and I guessed that meant she’d cum three times.

That, my dear readers, was the beginning of my unusual housing situation my senior year of college. I have plenty more stories about Liz and my roomies: how we’d tie specific sex acts to games of Super Smash Brothers or Halo; how she was sucking my dick when I got the call that I accepted into Teach for America; how we got her nipples pierced for her birthday; how Liz straightened her hair and went to an anime convention with Will and me dressed as Asuka from Evangelion; how Bruno and Will built a number of curious bondage devices for her out of random scavenged furniture, and then tried to start a business building custom bondage gear from reclaimed woods and trash.

I know I’m bragging, but those were, unambiguously, the best days of my life, thank you Bryan Adams. And to head off the inevitable questions—yes, we are all still friends, but we’ve certainly grown apart. Everyone lives in different cities now. Liz is on her second kid now. Her husband looks suspiciously similar to me, so now I suppose I know which of us was her type all along. None of us every formally dated Liz, though she did end up dating a fuckbuddy of mine—a girl who absolutely did not approve of the whole free-use slave situation—after college, but that too is a story for another time.