For the record, my name is Matthew. The story I am about to tell is true, though I'm not sure I believe it myself anymore. In the beginning it all seemed so innocent.
When John and I first moved in together it was supposed to be a temporary thing. His old roommate bailed on him and I needed a place to live that was closer to where we worked. He was a warehouse jock and I was a nerd from logistics. We ran with different crowds and were interested in different things, at least we assumed. We never would have thought that we'd want to stick around each other, and yet the second night after I moved in John came home while I was sitting in the living room playing Madden on Xbox. He sat down next to me, picked up the spare controller, and we've been friends ever since.
It turned out that John really only had two interests; video games and women. As it turned out, those were two things I was quite fond of as well. Of course, John was more successful with both, in fact in the area of women he was a master. On average, five nights a week he brought someone home from the bar or the club and not typically the same girl twice. His hobby didn't bother me. He would take his dates quickly to his bedroom and I was free to go out or stay and listen to the show through the paper thin walls. John didn't care, and if the girl he was with did, well, John didn't care. He even took me out with him at least one night a week. We'd hang out and drink until something caught his eye and then he'd politely excuse himself. Sometimes he would pretend like he was there to get me a date, but his needs always came first. I didn't mind, though. John was John, and even if he was his own first priority, he always stepped in if someone tried to harass me or I got too close to another fight already in progress.
That's why, when the company we worked for decided to buy a new, bigger warehouse across town two years later and John got laid off, I wasn't upset that he couldn't pay his half of the rent. He was more than a roommate, he was my best friend. Besides, I made way more money than he did and could pay all our bills easily. The only reason I stayed in the apartment was because we were friends. I could have moved out and gotten my own place a long time ago if I really wanted. I had faith he would find another job and didn't mind having his back while he looked.
John remained unemployed a lot longer than I thought he would and despite being broke he managed to hit the clubs just as much, those that didn't have a cover charge, and still brought home the same volume of strange women.
After two months had passed I started to worry if my roommate was taking advantage of me. It didn't feel like he was, but I didn't want him to think I would take care of the bills forever. I considered talking to him about how his job hunt was going, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship. One morning I tried to start the conversation but couldn't go through with it. I was his friend, not his father. That was the first night I got a knock on the door in the middle of the night. It was one of John's girls. She didn't even wait for me to answer, just crept in quietly and pounced on the bed, sliding down my pajama pants and proceeding to fellate me like it was no big deal. Just as quickly as she arrived she left, never saying a word. From that day on, once, sometimes twice a week that knock would come, each time a different girl came in and went down on me. John never said it, and I never asked, but I knew that was his way of paying the rent. I didn't mind it, in fact, those girls were better than money to me. My sexual experience was limited, and I'd had no luck with women since moving in with John. There he was, taking care of me. I felt relieved. I didn't care what John did anymore. He could get a job or not, he was more than fulfilling his obligations as far as I was concerned.
John eventually got another job and was able to start paying half of the rent again, but the late night knocks didn't stop. Maybe he just got used to propping up his dates to give me a thrill, or maybe he was just sharing the wealth; I don't know. It wasn't until Cassy-bella came around that I stopped getting my midnight visits.
The first time I saw her, five feet, one hundred and no pounds of tits and ass I didn't think anything of her. She was just another one of John's girls. The second time I saw her I took note, but a two-night stand wasn't completely out of the question for my roommate. It wasn't until the third or fourth time that I started to take her seriously.
That woman had some kind of spell over John. She started coming over practically every night and always seemed like she was in a bad mood. She would complain about John's job, or about the small size of the apartment. She would yell at him for looking at some other woman or not looking at her enough. It always turned into an argument, and then the argument turned into sex. Cassy-bella wouldn't go quietly into John's bedroom though, she preferred the couch for their makeup romp and it didn't matter if I was around or not. At first I would get up and leave the room but it didn't take long to realize I didn't have to. The couple was not shy about stripping and fucking right there in front of me. Even though I had grown to despise Cassy-bella there was something about watching her ride his cock that turned me on more than anything I had ever seen. Still, I skipped most of their shows and even during the ones I stayed in the room for I pretended to be doing something else. I didn't want to seem like a creep.
Cassy-bella eventually disappeared like all of John's other girlfriends, but not for nearly a year. There was no big blowout argument, no slamming of doors or threats of excessive violence to mark her passing. One day she just didn't come over, and my roommate didn't seem to be expecting her. I knew something must have happened. Despite pretending to be the same John that could care less about the current woman in his life, he was clearly not his normal happy self. He didn't pick up where he left off going to the bar. He just hung around the apartment with me after work, playing video games or watching movies. Months passed, and then one day John didn't come home from work.
His job was further away from home than mine, so I always got home before him. Typically I'd pick up a movie or rent a game and we'd spend the evening drinking beer around the entertainment center. Maybe it wasn't as exciting as the days of John's girls and their midnight blowjobs but we had each other, best friends. I wouldn't say that I worried when he didn't come home, but I noticed.
At nine o'clock he finally walked through the door, cursing. "Do you know what that stupid cunt did?" He asked me, rage in his voice.
The question caught me off guard. "You mean Cassy?" I asked. Neither one of us had spoken her name since the last time she came to the apartment.
"Yeah, how many other stupid cunts do you know?" John threw his coat at the wall. It hit with a loud clap and slid to the floor.
"I thought she was out of the picture," I said.
He laughed and slumped down on the couch. "Yeah, she's out of the picture alright. But first she went and told all the ladies at the bar that I've got some kind of horrible sexually transmitted disease. And they believed her! I was there for an hour trying to convince them I wasn't infectious. I even showed one of them my cock to prove it, but that just got me kicked out."
I laughed despite myself.
"And then I went over to the club, and I don't know what she told them but the bouncer wouldn't even let me in. I asked him what I ever did, and he told me 'You know what you did'." He deepened his voice in imitation of the bouncer. I wasn't sure if I should be amused or not. I was somewhat happy that John was trying to get his social life back to where it was, but a little disappointed he had left me behind to do it.
"She couldn't have turned everyone against you," I said.
"No, but she turned enough of them. It's going to take me forever to fix this. I need to get laid now." His voice was almost desperate.
