Roommate Situation

Tony's mom shows up at 10 AM.

"He didn't tell you I was coming?" Veronica stands in our doorway, overnight bag in hand, looking annoyed. "I'm here to help rearrange his room. He wanted the desk moved before finals."

"He left this morning. Conference in Boston. Back Sunday."

"That boy." She sighs, pushes past me into the apartment. "Well. You're here. You can help."

I could say no. I could tell her to come back tomorrow.

But Veronica is fifty, widowed, and built like a woman who's spent her life enjoying good food. Wide hips, heavy breasts, a belly that strains her too-tight dress. I've been trying not to stare at her for two years.

"Sure," I say. "Let me get coffee first."

We're moving the desk when Brittany arrives.

Tony's girlfriend lets herself in with her key, calling his name, stopping dead when she finds us.

"Oh. He's not here?"

"Boston until Sunday."

"Damn." She slumps against the wall. "I was going to surprise him."

Brittany is everything Veronica isn't—slim, athletic, blonde, twenty-three. She's wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, fresh from the gym.

"I didn't know you were coming either, Mrs. Del Rosa."

"Veronica. And clearly my son has communication issues." She straightens, brushing dust from her dress. "Well. We're moving furniture. Want to help?"

Three hours later, the furniture is moved.

The three of us are sweaty, tired, sharing beers on the couch. Somewhere along the way, Brittany stripped down to just the sports bra. Veronica unbuttoned her dress to the waist, revealing a bra that barely contains her.

And I can't stop looking at both of them.

"He's doing it again," Brittany says.

"I noticed." Veronica takes a long sip of beer. "He's been doing it all day."

"Doing what?" I try.

"Looking at us." Brittany turns to face me, one leg tucked under her. "You think we don't notice, but we do."

"I don't—"

"You stare at my ass every time I walk past your room." Brittany's smile is sharp. "And you practically drool when Veronica bends over."

"Which I do more than necessary," Veronica admits. "Partly for the exercise. Partly to see how long it takes you to lose your mind."

They're both looking at me now. Waiting.

"This is a trick," I say.

"No trick." Veronica sets down her beer. "Just an opportunity. My son is gone. His girlfriend is here. I'm here. And you..." She reaches out, touches my thigh. "You've been waiting for something like this, haven't you?"

"I can't," I say. "Tony is my friend."

"Tony doesn't have to know." Brittany moves closer. "You think you're the only one who's been thinking about this? I watch you walk around shirtless after your showers. I hear you at night, through the walls."

"And I've been lonely since my husband passed." Veronica's hand slides higher. "A woman my age, with my... appetites. It's hard to find satisfaction."

"So we talked about it." Brittany grins. "Last Thanksgiving. After too much wine. And we've been talking about it since."

"About me?"

"About this." Veronica squeezes my thigh. "About sharing you. About showing Tony's friend what a real welcome feels like."

Brittany kisses me first.

Her mouth is aggressive, demanding, the kiss of a woman who's used to getting what she wants. Her tongue pushes into my mouth while her hand finds my cock through my jeans.

"Mmm," she murmurs against my lips. "He's ready."

"Let me see." Veronica's hands join Brittany's, unbuckling my belt, pulling me free. She gasps. "Oh my. That's..."

"Big?" Brittany laughs. "Yeah. I noticed the outline. Why do you think I kept coming over?"

"I thought you were here for Tony."

"Tony's fine. But this..." She wraps her hand around my shaft. "This is worth the visit."

They take turns.

Veronica's mouth first—experienced, knowing, taking me deep without hesitation. Then Brittany—eager, enthusiastic, gagging slightly but not stopping.

"That's it, baby." Veronica coaches her future daughter-in-law. "Relax your throat. Let him in."

I'm watching my roommate's mom teach his girlfriend how to suck cock.

This is insane.

This is the best moment of my life.

"Bedroom," Veronica commands. "This couch isn't big enough for what I have planned."

We move to Tony's room—freshly rearranged, ironically. The bed is in the corner now, bigger than it looks.

Brittany strips first, revealing a body that's all lean muscle and small curves. She's athletic, tight, every inch maintained.

Veronica undresses more slowly, letting me see each revelation. Her bra falls, and her breasts cascade out—heavy, maternal, nipples dark and thick. Her dress pools at her feet, and I see wide hips, soft belly, thighs that promise to smother.

"Choose," Veronica says. "Who do you want first?"

"Both."

They smile.

I fuck Brittany while eating Veronica.

Tony's girlfriend bounces on my cock while his mother rides my face, and I can hear them kissing above me—soft, familiar sounds that tell me this isn't their first time together either.

"Harder," Brittany gasps. "Fuck me harder—"

"Make him last," Veronica moans. "I want my turn."

They're competing for me but also collaborating, sharing notes, orchestrating my pleasure. Brittany comes first, clenching around me with a scream. Veronica follows moments later, flooding my mouth.

We switch.

Veronica takes my cock—slowly, savoring, her older body adjusting to my size. She rides me with a rhythm that speaks to decades of practice.

"So good," she moans. "So much better than—" She stops herself.

"Than Tony?" Brittany asks, straddling my face. "Don't be shy, Veronica. We both know why you're really here."

"Brittany—"

"It's okay. I've thought about it too. Comparing. Wondering." She grinds against my tongue. "He's not his son. He's better."

I should feel guilty. I don't.

We fuck for hours.

Veronica shows me how an older woman likes it—slow and deep, with attention to her clit. Brittany shows me how a young one wants it—fast and hard, from every angle.

By the time we're done, Tony's bed is wrecked. Sheets tangled. Pillows everywhere.

"We should clean this up," I say.

"Tomorrow." Veronica curls against one side of me. "Tonight, we sleep."

Brittany takes the other side. "And tomorrow, round two."

Tony comes home Sunday to find his room spotless, his desk perfectly positioned, his roommate exhausted.

"Mom and Brittany helped," I tell him. "We worked hard."

"That's great." He doesn't notice my smirk. Doesn't notice the look his girlfriend and mother exchange behind his back. "Thanks, man."

"Anytime."

Brittany texts me that night: Next weekend. Your room. Mom's visiting again.

I type back: I'll be here.

The roommate situation just got very complicated.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.