We hadn’t been dating long, maybe about 1 month before he moved in, it just happened. He brought his things to my tiny studio apartment and stayed.
At the time he was working for his mother who owns breakfast restaurants inside of hotels. He would work from 8am until around about midday. His mother hardly paid him. He would bring home 100€ a week, leaving me to pay for everything. I earn very well so it wasn’t a problem for the moment.
The summer was upon us and I suggested he quit working for his mother as I could no longer afford paying for everything on my own. We both smoke, food and bills and it was starting to pile up. Everyday he would need money for lunch as I was working. I was starting to get annoyed.
He moved from his mothers breakfast bar to a pool bar she owned in the same hotel. However the pay stayed basically the same and he was working more hours. Growing frustrated with this I made him quit. Leaving him therefore jobless and leaving me fucked.
The sex was great. He would pull my body closer to his, and start fondling me. The sweat beaded off his forehead as he played with me as I moaned for more. I’d grab his big cock in my hand and squeeze it in my hand and start rubbing up and down his long shaft. Pulling my sex away from his hand I turn and place my ass on his knees and bend down and reach out for his cock and put in my mouth and start sucking, licking and groping it. He nearly came, and pushed me off him. I landed back down and legs in the air. He pulled me closer to him, and pushed his cock inside me. I was wet. And my clit was throbbing for him. I could feel him rubbing against my g spot. More intense every time. I cried out “harder” and he pushed in so deep i started to cum. He made my body tremble. As I came he came inside me.
I constantly nagged and moaned for him to get a job, and he would take up waitering or temping but could not stay in one place for long. I was growing more and more aggitated as the days went on, and he still had no money coming in. Occasionally his mother or father would lend him some money.
Our arguments were the worst. As I’d explain my feelings he’d get angry. He would say that when you love someone there is no my money or your money. It was OUR money. I should pay for him if I loved him. This made me nervous. A fire grew in my belly. He would call me selfish, a liar, a bitch. I’d hurt him even more by saying I don’t love you, I like someone else, it’s over, I fucked your mates. He’d viciously reply before me you was a whore, you had a bad reputation, guys only want you for sex. I felt degraded. I felt weak. I could never win an argument. He’d go on and on and on until I was too tired to talk anymore. I’d give in. I did love him but I couldn’t agree with his mentality. I had worked since I was 14 years old. And he at 25 years old couldn’t.
There was one particular occasion I can remember, and I am not proud of my actions. We were arguing one day, everytime I’d speak he would speak over me, not letting me talk. Constantly degrading me and belittling me making me feel stupid and worthless. An anger grew over my body and took over me. I pulled my hand back, and smacked him straight across the face. He pushed me, I’d push him back. I never thought I would be in this situation. I was wrong. I should never have put my hand upon him.