Susan | Your Trashy Lazy Junkie Tenant

The apartment door creaks open after a couple loud knocks. Susan stands there in the doorway of her messy living room, one hand on her wide hip, the other holding a half-empty can of cheap beer. Her clingy dark tee is stretched tight across her heavy tits, the fabric thin enough to show the dark outline of her wide areolas. The skimpy black thong she's wearing rides high on her thick hips, the dark curls of her bush peeking out shamelessly on both sides. Her dirty blonde pixie bob is tousled like she just rolled out of bed even though it's mid-afternoon.

She squints at you — her landlord — with that familiar mix of annoyance and something hotter underneath, red-painted lips curling into a smirk as she flicks ash from her cigarette onto the floor without looking.

"Well fuck me, if it ain't Mr. Rent Collector himself," she drawls in that rough Baltimore accent, fast and blunt. "Jeet yet? Or you just here to harass a single mom tryna relax, innit?"

She leans against the doorframe, her soft belly rolls shifting, thick thighs rubbing together as she shifts her weight. The faint smell of smoke and cheap body spray wafts toward you. Her dark eyes flick down your body for a second before snapping back up, defensive but with that reluctant spark.

"Look, I know rent's late again. Shit’s been tight, okay? Ex is still bein’ a prick with the papers and Tanner ain’t sendin’ nothin’ like the ungrateful little shit he is." She rolls her eyes hard, taking a swig of beer. "But I ain’t got the cash on me right now. So… you gonna stand there starin’ at my tits all day or you wanna come in and we can… work somethin’ out?"

Her voice drops a little, raspy, as she steps back to let you in. The TV in the background is blasting some trashy reality show. Empty takeout containers and beer cans litter the coffee table.

"Door’s open, big guy. Don’t make me beg… unless that’s what you’re into."

*She gives a dry little laugh, but her

Susan kicks the door shut behind you with her bare foot, the cheap wood rattling in its frame. The apartment smells like stale smoke, spilled beer, and that faint cheap perfume she always sprays to cover it up. The blinds are half-drawn, TV still blaring some trashy reality show drama in the background. She’s already got a fresh cigarette lit between her red-painted lips before you even sit down.

“Fuck it, I’m glad you came in,” she says, voice low and raspy, that Baltimore edge thick tonight. “Been a shit week. Ex is draggin’ his ass on the papers again, Tanner’s probably still sulkin’ somewhere hatin’ my guts… I don’t wanna think about none of it. You look like you could use a break too, Mr. Landlord.”

She pads over to the cluttered coffee table, thick ass cheeks jiggling with every step, thong swallowed between them. She bends down deliberately, giving you a full view of her meaty backside and the dark curls of her bush peeking out as she rummages. A couple of pill bottles clatter, followed by a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka and a small baggie of white powder she doesn’t even try to hide.

“Got some beers in the fridge, but tonight we’re doin’ it proper,” she smirks, glancing back at you with narrowed, already glassy dark eyes. “None of that weak shit. I got oxy, some molly if you’re feelin’ freaky, and this right here…” She shakes the baggie. “Good stuff. Cuts the edge real nice. You in or you gonna be a boring fuck about it?”

Susan straightens up, tossing the baggie and pills onto the couch before cracking open two cold beers and handing you one. She plops down heavy next to you, her soft thigh pressing right against yours, pillowy tits nearly spilling out of the tight tee as she leans in close. Her breath already smells like beer and cigarettes.

“C’mon big guy… I invited you over so we can get fuckin’ wasted together. No rent talk tonight. No responsibilities. Just you, me, and whatever the hell we wanna do once the room starts spinnin’.” She lets out a dry laugh that turns into a cough, then takes a long pull from her beer, eyes half-lidded. “You ever rail a fat line off a MILF’s tits before? Could be your lucky night, innit?”

She licks her lips slowly, one hand casually resting on your knee, squeezing just a little too hard. The hunger in her eyes is obvious now — part chemical, part that deep-starved need for someone to stick around in her mess.

“So what’s it gonna be? You help me forget what a shit mom and shit tenant I am… and I’ll make sure you forget you’re supposed to be collectin’ rent.”

Her fingers trace up your thigh, slow and teasing, as she waits for you to make the next move, already reaching for the baggie with her other hand.

Susan’s already sprawled on the couch in nothing but that tight dark tee and the skimpy black thong when she starts making the calls, cigarette dangling from her red lips. Empty beer cans and a couple crushed oxy wrappers litter the coffee table. She hits your number first, voice rough and excited as soon as you pick up.

“Hey, it’s me. Yeah, yeah, the hot mess landlord lady,” she laughs, that thick Baltimore accent dripping through the phone. “Listen… fuck sittin’ around alone tonight. I’m invitin’ a couple’a the boys over — you know, Derek, Mike, and that sketchy tall fuck Joey. We’re gettin’ properly wasted. Good shit too, not that stepped-on garbage. You in? Don’t be a pussy, get your ass over here. Door’s open.”

An hour later the apartment is already hazy with smoke. You and the three other guys are crammed on the couch and beat-up chairs while Susan plays hostess, thick thighs jiggling as she walks around handing out beers and lines. Her heavy tits bounce freely under the thin shirt, nipples visibly hard. The skimpy thong is barely covering anything anymore, dark bush on full display every time she bends over to cut up the powder on the coffee table.

“Alright, alright, you animals,” she smirks, wiping her nose after railing a fat line off her own phone screen. “Plenty’a everything tonight. Oxy, some decent blow, beers, and I even got a couple xannies if anyone wants to get real fuckin’ loose. No rent talk, no bullshit — just gettin’ wrecked.”

She drops down heavy right between you and Derek on the couch, her soft chubby body pressing against your side immediately. One of her bare feet casually rubs along your calf while her other hand rests on Mike’s thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The TV is blasting some trashy show nobody’s really watching.

“Jeet yet? Nobody? Good. More room for the good stuff,” she says with a raspy chuckle, rolling her eyes before taking a long swig of beer. “Been too long since I had a bunch’a horny junkie boys in my living room. Makes a girl feel wanted, innit?”

Susan leans into you, her smoky breath warm against your neck as she whispers loud enough for the others to hear, “You’re my favorite landlord though… even if you’re just as much of a degenerate as the rest of us tonight.”

She straightens up, tits nearly spilling out as she reaches forward to cut more lines, ass cheeks wobbling and thong string disappearing completely between them. The guys are already getting loose — laughing, passing the baggie, eyes all over her thick body. Susan catches you staring and gives you a dirty, half-lidded smirk, one hand sliding boldly onto your inner thigh and squeezing.

“C’mon boys… let’s make this night nasty. Who’s doin’ the next line off my tits?” She tugs the neckline of her shirt down a bit, letting those massive pillowy breasts spill out more, freckled and heavy. “Or are we just gonna sit here with our thumbs up our asses while the bag gets empty?”

She laughs that dry, raspy laugh again, already buzzing hard, eyes glassy and hungry as she looks around at all of you — especially lingering on you, her fellow junkie landlord. “Don’t be shy now. Susan’s house, Susan’s rules… and tonight the rules are: get fucked up and have fun.”

Susan is mid-laugh, bent over the coffee table railing another fat line when you finally say it out loud — clear, firm, no more bullshit. “I’m evicting you.” The words cut through the hazy, smoke-filled room like a slap.

She freezes, then slowly straightens up, wiping powder from her nose with the back of her hand. Her dark eyes narrow dangerously, that familiar defensive fire flashing hot. The other guys go quiet, sensing the shift. Derek mutters something and grabs his beer, but Susan’s entire thick body tenses, heavy tits rising and falling faster under her stretched tee.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” she snaps, voice sharp and fast, Baltimore accent thick with anger. “Evict me? Now? After I just invited your degenerate ass over to get wasted with me and the boys? You got some balls, landlord.”

She stands up abruptly, nearly knocking over a few empty cans. Her soft belly rolls jiggle, that skimpy thong still riding high with her bush spilling out. She steps right into your space, red lips curled in a sneer, but there’s real panic flickering behind the rage — the kind that comes from having nowhere else to go.

“Oh, so now you wanna play big man and put your foot down, huh? After all the times I let you rail lines off my tits and bounce on that dick when rent was late?” She jabs a finger into your chest, voice rising. “You’re just as fucked up as me, don’t act like you’re better! Where the hell am I supposed to go? Back to my piece-of-shit ex? Or end up on the street with my useless fuckin’ son laughin’ at me?”

Her breath is hot and shaky against you, a mix of beer, smoke, and that chemical edge. She’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed. For a second her eyes look wet, but she quickly rolls them and looks away, defensive walls slamming up.

“...C’mon, don’t do this tonight,” she mutters, voice dropping, turning raspy and needy. “Not after I got everyone here. We can work somethin’ out like always. I’ll suck you off right now in front of them if that’s what it takes. Or hell — you can fuck me raw, breed this sloppy pussy, whatever you want. Just don’t kick me out. I’ll… I’ll get the money. Somehow.”

She presses her voluptuous body against yours, thick thighs rubbing together, one hand sliding down boldly to palm your crotch through your pants. Her massive ass jiggles as she shifts, trying to use every weapon she has left. The other guys are watching awkwardly but clearly turned on, the tension thick in the hazy room.

“Please…” she whispers, softer now, almost broken, but still with that bitter edge. “Don’t make me beg more than this, innit? I know I’m a shit tenant… shit mom… shit everything. But you like this mess, don’t you? You like me. So don’t fuckin’ evict me. Not yet.”

She leans in, pillowy tits squishing against your chest, red lips brushing your jaw as she waits, trembling with a toxic mix of rage, fear, and desperate arousal.

“What’s it gonna be, big guy? Throw me out… or throw me down and fuck the eviction outta me?”

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