Posts Tagged ‘pimp’
All characters are over 18.
“Ola, hello, welcome to club 18 -22, I am Miguel and I am your pimp for the week,” the sun bronzed Spaniard announced as he walked into the girl’s room.
Sandra laughed drunkenly and said, “Oh right, Pimp eh, maybe your English isn’t too brilliant?”
“Pimp, he said Sand!” Irene replied equally drunkenly, “Because if he’s our pimp that makes us.”
“Prossies!” Sandra exclaimed, “Sluts, bring it on!”
“Que?” Miguel replied.
“Boys, bring ‘em on, that’s what we came for!” Sandra insisted.
“Boys, men, chop chop,” Irene laughed, “Just a minute I’ll slip into something more comfortable,” and she hoisted her tee shirt over head, “Never seen tits before?” she queried as Miguel stared.
“Call those tits, these are tits,” Sandra declared and she hoisted her tee shirt over her head and popped her DD breasts out of her bra cups, “What’s up Miguel?”
He looked very uncomfortable, “You want fucked?”
“Well we didn’t come for the ballroom dancing!” Irene declared, “Find us some boys!”
“Chop Chop,” said Sandra, “Bollocks, where’s the bog? I got gyp,” and she went off to throw up
It all started nearly two months earlier back in Yorkshire when Irene found a club 18 – 22 leaflet in the College Library, she showed it to Sandra, “Look, a week in the sun for just a hundred and fifty quid,” she laughed.
Sandra looked carefully and spoke her thoughts, “Sun, sex and,”
“Sunburn! It has to be better than Skeggy.” Irene jokingly made reference to the East Yorkshire North Sea resort of Skegness, famous for it’s icy winds and frequent rain.
“We’re going to Bridlington, to watch the sunrise.” Sandra said, “Again.”
“Maybe, now we’re eighteen, we could like?” Irene suggested, “In the holidays.”
Irene broached the subject of a week in Spain with club 18-22 when she took Sandra home for tea after before choir practise on Thursday .
“You’re not going,” Mrs Braithwaite told Irene straight out when she asked, “Club 18-30 holidays what ever next!”
“But it’s not our Mam,” Irene insisted, “It’s club 18-22 and its completely different, look there’s phone number and they do mentoring and everyone has to be in their room by eleven at night!”
“And its very reasonable price considering,” Sandra, Irene’s friend from college insisted.
“I wonder how they do it.” Mr Braithwaite said as he looked at the flyer the girls brought round, “You couldn’t have a week in Skeggy for that.”
“It’s cheaper out there Mr Braithwaite,” Sandra explained.
“Well,” Mr Braithwaite agreed, “We’ll sleep on it, see what Albert and Frieda say.”
Sandra stood up to go and Irene followed her, “Our Mam said the same,” Sandra said, “See what Harry and Ethel say, we’ll end up stuck in Filey if we aren’t careful.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have to borrow the money,” Irene sighed, “We should have saved up.”
“Maybe we could put it on the card?” Sandra said.
“Pay ten per cent interest, I should coco,” she said, “I’ll ring tomorrow and see what they mean by ‘Easy terms.”
Sandra rang the number, “Is that Club 18 – 22?” she asked.
Forty miles away in the garage of a typical English suburban semi detached house Justin and Sebastian were chilling over a game of pool on their miniature pool table.
The phone on the wall rang, Justin answered it “Yes Club 18 -22,” he agreed motioning Sebastian to be quiet, “How may I help?”
“Well we wants to go on trip to Spain next month, but we’re a bit short.” Sandra explained.
“Well, that’s difficult, would ‘we’ be your boyfriend?” he asked.
“No me mate Irene and me,” Sandra said.
“Well perhaps we can do deferred payment but you do need to apply on line, you must have a current Facebook account and a working web cam so we can make sure you sign the online form,” Justin explained, “You need your passport obviously, but log on and send an application and we’ll be in touch.”
Sandra sighed, “OK she agreed uncertainly, “But can’t you tell me the priceover the phone?”
“I’m afraid it’s company policy,” he said, “Everything done digitally so there is no confusion, no argument, just log on, its really very simple,” he explained.
“OK,” Sandra agreed reluctantly.
“I’ll look forward to your application, good bye,” Justin said and hung the phone up, “Minger,” he said to Sebastian, “Yorkshire accent as thick as treacle, yuck.”
“Probably thirty eight, thirty eight, forty two,” Sebastian laughed “Don’t hold your breath.”
Sandra saw Irene in the college refectory, “We have to apply on line,” she said.
“There’s computers in Library,” Irene pointed out.
They went to the Library after class, logging in was simple but the girls struggled
and it was only when the Librarian showed them how to input the web address instead googling it that they got on the club 18-22 site.
They filled in the forms, and pressed “Submit.”
Forty miles away the incoming email pinged loudly, “Oh,” Sebastian acknowledged, “Bingo!”
“Great, no web cam,” Justin sighed sarcastically, “Email her.”
Sandra and Irene switched off the machines and went home so they never found the emails requesting they use the web cams until the next day, and by then Justin and Sebastian had just about agreed that Irene and Sandra were a waste of time.
Irene phoned on her mobile, “Its Irene Braithwaite, I emailed and you wanted to see me on web cam, well its working.” she said.
“Minger alert,” Sebastian mouthed, “OK, yes, right,” he said as he frantically fiddled with the computer, “Oh got you,” he agreed as a slim if slightly top heavy brunette filled the screen.
“Me mate Sandra’s here,” Irene said helpfully as her friend ducked in front of the camera.
“Hi,” Sandra said.
Sebastian grinned as Sandra’s long blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders and her pert boobies bulged unnaturally as she craned around to look into the lens.
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, “Well that tallies with your Facebook acount, when did you want to go?”
“First week in August?” she suggested.
“Excellent,” he agreed.
“So how much?” Sandra asked.
“How much?” Sebastian replied, “Fifty pounds deposit and the balance by Christmas?”
“I don’t know,” Irene demurred, “Like how much.”
“We have a few spare rooms that week so a hundred and fifty?” he suggested, “Fifty deposit and ten pounds a week.
“You sure?” Sandra asked, “That sounds too cheap.”
“We make money on the food and drink, they aren’t included,” Sebastian lied, “Maybe the boys will buy your drinks.”
“Whooo boys bring them on,” Sandra laughed.
“Sand!” Irene said in mock outrage.
“Good, I’ll send the tickets,” Sebastian agreed, “Probably fly out overnight.”
“From Leeds?” Sandra asked.
“No an airfield,” Sebastian laughed, “Our Minibus will pick you up.”
Irene and Sandra stood outside Woolworth in their anoraks and jeans carrying their backpacks waiting for the Minibus, the town hall clock showed 11.30 like it always did since the clock winder was made redundant and it was actually only 10.32 when the Combined Training Corps minibus loomed out of the shadows.
“Sandra and Irene?” Justin’s girlfriend for the day Sabrina asked, while feeling a fool in her stewardess uniform, “Welcome to Club 18-22!”
They threw their backpacks in the back and joined another half dozen girls in the old Ford Transit van. Justin drove smoothly and carefully so as not to draw attention as didn’t have CTC’s permission, the right licence or any insurance and they were soon on their way to the airfield.
“What about Customs and that?” Sandra asked, as the drove straight past Terminal One and up to an elderly 747 airliner which stood outside the UK Mail building bathed by floodlights.
“Oh, we do that at the Spanish end,” Justin said breezily, “You do have your passports?”
“Yes,” they agreed and they had the novel experience of climbing the stairs to the 747s door only to find the cabin was actually full of containers.
“Passenger accommodation on the top deck,” Sabrina announced, “Help yourself to drinks,” she said pointing to the well stocked bar, “And don’t make too much noise or you’ll wake the pilots.”
“How’s this work then man?” a girl from Newcastle asked.
“Cost cutting, we use spare space on the freighter,” Justin explained as he admired her E cup tits, “Have you joined the mile high club?” he asked.
“Ask us again a bit later,” she replied.
“Where’s the emergency exits and that?” a nervous girl asked.
“Look have a drink, chill,” Justin advised, “Don’t be so negative, but they are at the back OK?”
Sabrina handed round some glasses of 35% proof fruit punch and quite quickly everything became blurred. so much so that Irene and Sandra remembered nothing of their flight, the taxi to the hotel or check in and only woke up the following morning in a strange darkened room illuminated only by the light of a TV screen as the blinds were tightly drawn . They found themselves dressed only in their underwear lying on a queen- size double bed…
Sandra and Irene woke to the sound of urgent knocking on their door, Sandra staggered across and opened it, “Yes?” she said as a sun bronzed Spaniard wearing swimming trunks and a tee shirt stood smiling at her.
“Ola, hello, welcome to club 18 -22, I am Miguel and I am your pimp for the week.”
Sandra looked at the and laughed drunkenly. “Oh right,Pimp eh, maybe your English isn’t too brilliant?”
“Pimp, he said Sand!” Irene replied equally drunkenly, “Because if he’s our pimp that makes us.”
“Prossies!” Sandra exclaimed, “Sluts, bring it on!”
“Que?” Miguel replied.
“Boys, bring ‘em on, that’s what we came for!” Sandra insisted.
“Boys, men, chop chop,” Irene laughed, “Just a minute I’ll slip into something more comfortable,” and she hoisted her tee shirt over head, “Never seen tits before?” she queried as Miguel stared.
“Call those tits, these are tits,” Sandra declared and she hoisted her tee shirt over her head and popped her DD breasts out of her bra cups, “What’s up Miguel?”
He looked very uncomfortable, “You want fucked?”
“Well we didn’t come for the ballroom dancing!” Irene declared, “Find us some boys!”
“Chop Chop,” said Sandra, “Bollocks, where’s the bog? I got gyp,” and she looked round helplessly for somewhere to throw up.
“Yes,” he said, “Bog is there,” he said pointing as Sandra rushed away, “You have en suite this room,” he said to Irene, “All very up to date at club 18-22, we have reputation!”
“Right,” Irene said, “No boys after 11 o’clock?”
“Oh no, door is locked after 11, boys can stay!” he said, “It keeps parents happy.”
“Oh, right,” she said, “Where’s the best place to meet boys?”
“Is all right, I bring them,” Miguel explained, “Is part of the service!”
“When’s brekky, I’m starving!” Sandra said as she returned.
“I have the toast and the fruit juices, on my trolley, momento,” he explained and he fetched his trolley, and “Ola!” he removed the cloth with a flourish.
“Oh it’s gorgeous,” Irene announced as she took a sip of 35% proof Orange Juice and Vodka
“MMmm,” Sandra agreed, “Gorgeous!”
“You want fuck now?” Miguel asked.
“Of course we want to fuck, we didn’t come for the ballroom dancing!” Irene chuckled drunkenly as her hand stole to Miguel’s crotch and cheekily twisted his balls.
“Hands off he’s mine!” Sandra said as she pulled her panties down to reveal a neatly trimmed blonde bush.
“I saw him first!” Irene protested.
“Ladies there is plenty for everyone!” Miguel boasted as Irene pulled his swimming trunks off.
“Oh,” Irene gasped as she found a woollen football sock stuffed in Miguel’s trunks, “Maybe not.”
“Momento,” Miguel said anxiously, “I look at porn, then you see.”
“No way shorty, we want a proper man,” Sandra insisted,
“Men,” Irene agreed.
“Want a proper men!” Sandra repeated.
“One minute,” Miguel insisted, “I find you big cocks, promise!” He rushed from the room. locking the door behind him, “Mr Sebastian, they call me ‘Shorty’ the want big cocks!”
“Not a problem, got a couple of Aussies downstairs,” he said and he flicked a button on his phone, “Send them up, room 14.”
“Good day, I’m Bruce and this is my mucker, Stanley.” Bruce announced as Miguel showed him into the apartment.
“Hi Bruce,” Irene said, “You got what it takes?” she asked as she stared at him.
He stared back, her tits were out of her bra cups and she had the gusset of her panties pulled aside and was was gently wanking herself, “Only shorty here came up short.”
“We aim to please,” Stanley explained as he unzipped to show ten full inches if man meat, “You never seen nothing like fourteen inches before.”
“It’ll do me,” Sandra agreed.
“Cause that’s nothing like fourteen,” Bruce said automatically before he did a double take, “What?”
“Do me,” said Sandra, “What you waiting for big man, do me!”
“No me first,” Irene said urgently, “I’m ready.”
“You still got your knickers on,” Sandra countered, “Do me.”
“One at a time ladies,” Bruce insisted, “Now who wants Grosser Knackwurst?” he asked as he unzipped to show his monster cock, not quite ten inches but bigger round than most girls fists.
“I go, you knock,” Miguel insisted.
“Ohhhh, that’s too much!” Sandra gulped.
“You know what they say Sand,” Irene gasped, “Too much of a good thing is wonderful! come here big boy!”
Bruce stepped forward and knelt down in front of Irene, “Where’s the condies ladies?” he asked
A key rattled, the door opened, Miguel stood there apologetically, “Sorry, I forgot, here is box of hundred, you tell when want more, is enough for now.”
“You got large?” Bruce asked.
“Is none your business,” Miguel retorted.
“Condies, large XL comprendi?” Stanley explained as he grabbed the plain unbranded box and pulled out a foil pack, “Oh they’re Mates, they’re fine, I can’t fit in a durex.”
“It’s all right for you!” Bruce complained as Stan chucked him a condom, “Yours is like a pipe cleaner!”
“Oi, don’t listen at the keyhole,” Sandra advised, “Dirty bugger!”
“It fits!” Irene exclaimed as she triumphantly peeled the condom down over Bruce’s straining shaft, “Stick it in me big boy.”
“Uhhhh,” Sandra sighed as Stan eased his length up her sopping hole, “Oh that’s so good, like a pint of Tetleys that.”
“Amber nectar English style,” Bruce confirmed, “Christ you’re bloody tight Sheila.”
“Try again,” Irene suggested.
“Bloody relax,” Bruce prompted, “Jesus its like trying to screw a keyhole.”
“So suck me tits or something,” Irene suggested, “I’m a woman not a blow up doll.”
“Jesus,” Bruce sighed, “Hey Stan can I have a poke at your’s?”
“Yeah, swapsies, why not?” Stanley confirmed as he humped away at Sandra’s ever loosening fuck hole, “Ready, three, two, one.”
Stanley pulled out of Sandra with an audible ‘plop’ “Hey,” she cried, “Don’t I get a say in this?”
“No,” said Stan and Bruce together as they changed places.
“Ohhhh fuck that’s too too big!” Sandra cooed, “Oh fucking jesus!” she exclaimed as the sheer size of Bruce’s cock overwhelmed her.
“Oh thats nice,” Irene exclaimed as Stanley slid his cock easily where Bruce’s had been too fat to go.
“Nice and tight like a Roo’s arse,” Stanley joked, “Hey I’m only joking,” he said, “I never poked a Roo’s arse in me life, never poked a Roo at all come to think of it.”
“Oh Bruce, that’s wonderful,” Sandra insisted.
“Oh Stan, that’s perfect.” Irene replied.
“Oh Bruce that’s better than perfect,” Sandra suggested.
“If we wanted marks out if ten we’d have gone on Australia’s got talent, put a sock in it the pair of you.” Stanley suggested.
“Couple of gasps wouldn’t hurt but,” Bruce added, “Maybe fake an O or something.”
“Fake one, gee I reckon I just had one,” Sandra insisted, “Come on cowboy ride me.”
“Wrong continent Sand,” Irene insisted before the waves of impending orgasm swept over her and her mind dissolved like surf crashing on the rocks.
“Right, better get some Tinnies in.” Stan said a while later as he wiped his cock and zippered up his pants, “See you round maybe?”
“Later?” Irene queried.
“Yeah maybe,” Stan replied, “Too ra loo.”
“Oh,” Irene exclaimed as they shut the door, “Right, no bloody box of roses then.”
Miguel knocked, “I have your lunch Misses,” he said as he eased the door open, “Just a light lunch, you like?”
“Salad,” Irene said disappointedly, “What do you think we are Rabbits?”
“You were bonking like one!” Sandra exclaimed.
“And after I have gentlemen to meet you,” Miguel exclaimed.
Sandra took a few leaves and a tomato and sat on the bed munching away while taking sips of Orange juice.
“It’s not bad for rabbit food,” Irene commented as she munched lettuce washed down with 35% proof Vodka and Orange juice.
Miguel returned a few minutes later, “You wanted to meet more boys yes?” he asked.
“On the beach maybe,” Sandra admitted as she tried to stand up, failed and sprawled across the bed again.
“I have Mr John Smith and his brother to meet you,” he said.
John stepped smartly into the apartment, “Charmed I’m sure,” he said, “Don’t waste much time eh!” he said as he admired Sandra’s bare tits.
“No, is best not waste time time is money,” Miguel agreed.
“I’ll hang my jacket in the wardrobe if that’s all right,” John said, “You’ve met my brother John I take it?”
“John’s brother, John?” Irene asked, “That’s weird.”
“Hi, I’m John,” John said as he came in, “That’s Mike my brother.”
“John’s brother John is called Mike?” Sandra queried.
“It makes sense,” Irene agreed drunkenly as she watched the Johns take off their jackets and hang them neatly before slipping their shoes and socks off and systematically undressing.
“You prossie strippers or something, only you’re all synchronised or whatever?” Irene queried.
“Sas,” John replied, “Sturrock Andersson Sturock solicitors!” he joked, “So which one of you lovelies is giving me a blow job.”
“Neither we want you cock inside us!” Sandra insisted.
“We came to get fucked,” Irene explained.
“Sea Sand and fucked,” Sandra added.
“Right?” John exclaimed in mild confusion, “Eenie Meenie Miney, Mo,” and by that time his brother John who was Mike really had Sandra pressed firmly against the en suite door post as he fumbled with a reluctant Mates condom as he tried to roll it on inside out.
“For fucks sake stick the bastard in me,” Sandra said seductively in her best Yorkshire accent as the other John rolled his condom neatly onto his shaft while gazing into Irene’s rather bleary brown eyes while trying to avoid the alcoholic fumes she expelled with every breath.
“Oooohhh that’s champion,” Irene agreed as John eased his cock between her eager cunt lips, “Squeeze me tits or something can’t you.”
“It’s all right for you, you got the bed,” Sandra complained, “You, Oooooh, want to, Agghhh, Oooohh that’s nice,” she said and she forgot about complaining and decided to enjoy her holiday instead.
John and John stayed a while, they put channel 4 (Horse) racing on the TV which surprised Irene as she never realised they could get UK channel 4 in Spain.
The 4.30 from Kempton Park provided the perfect build up to renewed love making, with John fucking Irene while John fucked Sandra, at least that’s what Sandra thought at the time.
John threw his used condom in the waste paper bin, combed his hair and pulled on his socks, “I’ll look you up again,” he lied as he continued to dress, and then he was immaculate as before, “Right back to the office and head for home!” he exclaimed, “Bye!”
Miguel brought food as soon as the Johns left, “Is good yes, Fish and Chip?”
“Might as well have gone to Skeggy,” Sandra admitted.
“I have the fancy dress and toys for you,” Miguel announced, “See,” and he held up two sexy waitress uniforms and a double ended dildo.
June married young, at twenty, and by the time she was twenty-five, she had 3 children under the age of five-years-old. Unable to afford any more mistakes, after a night of passion, she had her tubes tied. Now, thirty-years-old, her last child was in school with his brother and sister. Finally, home alone with time on her hands, she could hear herself think.
Her husband worked as a machinist at Machine Die Cast Tool and made $18.00 an hour. A good wage for this small town, but not nearly good enough to pay all the bills, never mind to pay for any of the extras. They only have the one car, a 2004 Ford Taurus with over 100,000 miles on the odometer and it runs like crap. Good enough for her husband, John, to make it back and forth to work, which, fortunately, was only a ten mile roundtrip. Unfortunately, once he takes the car, unless she drives him to work on those days she needs to run errands, she’s without transportation.
John works six days a week, half day on Saturday. The overtime that he makes, usually, 10 overtime hours a week, keeps them afloat. He plays the lottery every week hoping to win, but never wins more than a free bet. Forcing himself to quit smoking cold turkey, he buys his six pack of beer every Saturday, takes the kids to the park on Sunday, and does it all over again on Monday. Most times, it’s a good life with a good wife, until he gets to thinking that he wants more.
Now that all three kids are in school, June had hopes of finding a part-time job to make a little extra money to tie them over, until payday Friday. Only, with nothing more than a high school education and no office or computer skills, the only place willing to hire her was McDonalds or Wal-Mart, neither of which appealed to her.
That’s where Larry, her classmate from high school, comes into the story. He pimps on the side. Larry, a clerk at the sporting goods store rubs elbows with customers that have a few bucks. His main girl, Josephine, got knocked up and wants to keep the baby. His other girl, Daisy, after getting beaten and robbed by one of her Johns, has suddenly lost her appetite for the oldest profession and wants out of it. That’s where June comes back into the story, again.
“Hey, how ya doin’, Jane? What are you doing in here?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever so, is June a month that should mean something to me?” He looked at her with a smug grin that she wiped from his face with a stare, while speaking a language that even he understood.
“June is my name, asshole.”
“Oh, sorry. Can I help you find anything?”
“John’s birthday,” she helped clear his blank stare by crossing her arms across her breasts, when he focus his stare to her tits. “My husband’s birthday is coming up and I’m shopping for a gift.” She looked at Larry who started leading her to the high end fishing gear. “I only have thirty bucks to spend, Larry.” She vaguely surveyed the store. “What can I buy that looks like it costs more? Do you have anything on sale that’s a good value?”
“Well, what does he like to do? Does he like to hunt or fish?”
“He punches his bag in the garage. That’s about the only thing he has time to do. Between his job and helping out with the kids on weekends, he barely has time to watch television.”
“Boxing, huh? Do you know if he has a pair of bag gloves?”
“Bag gloves? You mean the gloves you put on your hands to hit the bag?”
“Yeah,” he said walking her over to the boxing section and picking up a nice pair of weighted Everlast gloves.”
“Yeah, he does, but they’re old, worn, and smelly. They aren’t heavy like these. I don’t think they’re even leather.” She stuck her hand inside the glove. “These are nice, real nice.” She smiled proudly. “He’s been teaching me how to hit the bag and how to throw a punch. He said that I have a good left hand.”
“Yeah, these are the best bag gloves we have, Jane,” he said and corrected himself, when she shot him another look. “I mean, June.”
“How much are they?”
“These are too much,” he said looking inside and pulling out the tag. These are a hundred bucks.” He held them up like he was holding a trophy. “These are what the professional boxers use.”
“Yeah, well, that’s way out of my budget,” she said pulling the glove off her hand and gently setting it down, as if it was an expensive dish of chinaware. She tightened the grip of her shoulder bag while looking off in other directions of the store.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said rubbing his mouth, as if he was a man dying of thirst. He had a thoughtful face, as if he was about to tell her a secret.
Larry took her all in with one look. He peered down her gaping sweatshirt, when he threw his arm around her shoulder. She had a nice set of C cup tits and with a little makeup, her hair cut and colored, and a proper outfit, she’d look pretty hot, hot enough for someone to pay big bucks to fuck and/or suck.
“When is John’s birthday?”
“Oh,” she said slithering away from his hold, “I have some time, not until next month, August 27th.”
“Good. That’s good,” he said, as if he was arranging his schedule in his mind to attend John’s birthday party, after being invited. Only, June hadn’t invited him.
He studied her figure again with a look that paid special attention to her hips. She had a nice ass and great legs for someone, who has given birth to three kids. Most of the women he knows have already started packing on the pounds.
“These are going on sale in a couple of weeks, marked down to $69 and with the employee discount that I receive; I’ll pick them up for you for your thirty bucks. Actually, I get a 20% discount and can buy them for $55.00.”
“I only have $30.00 to spend,” she said looking at Larry with suspicion.
“Don’t worry about it, June. I’ll make up the difference, as my gift to you for your husband,” he said with a creepy smile.
“Really? You’d do that for me? Why?” She looked at him with suspicion.
“Sure, we go way back, Jane,” he said her name wrong again.
“Yeah, sorry, whatever, I had a brain freeze.”
He looked at her face again. Had anyone known he was a pimp looking for a hooker to work the upcoming holiday season at the hotel downtown, June was certainly pretty enough to make him some much needed extra money and fill his stable of none. He handed her his salesman’s business card.
“My cell phone number is on there. Give me a call in a few weeks and I’ll drop off the gloves, when John’s not home.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said watching her ass wiggle away, as she left him and the store behind.
A few weeks later June called Larry.
“June? June who? I don’t know any dame named June.”
“Bag glove June from the sporting goods store,” she said with a laugh, ready to hang up the phone.
“Oh, June, yeah, hi. How are ya?”
“John works Saturday mornings,” she felt the uncomfortable silence, “my husband, birthday John.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m with you. You’re the birthday bag glove lady.”
“Yes,” she said relived that he finally remembered her.
“And you want me to drop the bag gloves off Saturday morning, while he’s at work?”
“Yes and I’ll pay you the thirty dollars for the gloves.”
“Yeah, you said that the gloves were going on sale for $69 and with your discount that you could get them for $55. You told me that you’d make up the difference,” she said with nervous anticipation, while thinking what else she could buy her husband on short notice, should Larry not come through with the gloves.
“Did I say that?”
Suddenly June was in a panic.
“Yeah, you did, Larry.”
“I thought I said $50.”
“Well, if that’s the case then forget about…”
“I’m just having some fun with you Jane, I mean, June.”
That Saturday morning, Larry was out to her house dropping off the bag gloves for John’s upcoming birthday party.
“Hi, Larry, come in,” she said suddenly having second thoughts about inviting Larry in her house, but the kids were in the living room playing video games. It wasn’t as if she was alone with him.
“Here are your gloves, Jane.”
“It’s June, Larry, like the month.”
“Yeah, right, sorry. I guess I have one of those mental blockades. Once I get something in my head, I can’t remove it. June, June, June. Okay, I got it.”
“Here’s your $30.00,” she said handing him a ten and a twenty with a smile. “Thank you so much for doing this for me, Larry. I very much appreciate the favor. Maybe I can do you a favor, sometime.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.”
He looked behind her at her bedroom and she responded by blocking the doorway with more of her body. Her small house was eternally cluttered with the toys of three kids playing everywhere in the house. She relented and stepped away from her opened bedroom door, when he insisted with his look.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She deflected his attention from her bedroom to the kitchen.
“Sure, I’d like that. We can catch up on old times,” he said following behind her.
She led him to the kitchen where he sat waiting for his coffee.
“Cream and sugar?”
“No, just black, please.”
She sat and sipped her coffee, while wishing she hadn’t invited him in her house, when her husband wasn’t home, but there was no other way to get the boxing gloves. She could have met him at the store, but she didn’t have a car. Wishing she never allowed him to do her the favor of getting the bag gloves, she wished he’d just leave. He gave her the creeps for some reason, probably the way that he looked at her, undressing her with his eyes. Her husband would be home soon and he was the jealous sort with a violent temper.
“So, do you like working at the sporting goods store?”
“Like it? It sucks. It’s just a job that I do to make contacts.”
“Contacts? What do you mean, contacts?”
“I operate an escort service.”
“Really? An escort service? Here in nowheresville?” She laughed. “I wouldn’t think there’d be a need to hire an escort around here with everyone knowing everyone and there’s no place to go, except for the movie theatre, the diner, the gas station, the strip mall, the factory, and the hotel,” she said pausing with the image of the hotel in her head. Now, she understood, why someone would need an escort.
“That’s right. We have a hotel and a convention center downtown. A man gets lonely and wants the company of an attractive female for coffee, dinner,” he said pausing, “and dessert.”
June quietly sipped her coffee wondering about the life of an escort. It sounded so much more exciting than keeping house and watching over three, small kids. John never takes her anywhere. There’s never any extra money or time for a movie. It’s always such a bother trying to find a babysitter for three kids and scrapping up the money to pay the babysitter puts them over their entertainment budget, when they can just barely afford the tickets to the movie.
“Just curious. What does something like that pay?”
Larry jumped at the opportunity to sell his service to her.
“It depends, June,” he said getting her name right, this time.
“It depends on what?”
“On the time spent together and the level of service you give the customer. Some of these out of town city slickers tip pretty good for women, who are extra nice to them, if you know what I mean,” he said with a wink and a sick smile.
“Nice to them? What do you mean by nice?” June was no dummy and could tell that Larry was holding back and not being forthcoming with information. “What would a girl have to do to make the big tips?”
“Well, you know, some guys get lonely and might want to spend some alone time with the escort in the privacy of their hotel room.”
“You mean sex?” She stood and shot him a look. “Prostitution?”
The thought of having sex with a strange man excited her, but made her sick to her stomach at the same time. She had only been with John. They were steady boyfriend and girlfriend, since high school. She’s never even seen another man’s cock, never mind touched one, other than John’s cock.
“It’s none of my business what two consenting adults do behind closed doors, June” he said raising his hands and waving them like little stop signs at a railroad crossing. “So long as I get my piece of the pie, everyone is happy,” he said taking a sip of his coffee. “Think of me as a facilitator, a matchmaker, a–”
“You’re a pimp, aren’t you?”
“I don’t refer to myself as a pimp. I’m in the entertainment business. I’m more of a provider of a lady of the night to a gentleman of distinction. There are those who travel the country and who appreciate the attention of a beautiful woman, when in an unfamiliar town. Traveling for a living is a lonely business and I’m here to help fill that need.”
“You dress it up all fancy like Larry, but it still smells like you’re just looking for a whore.” She gave him a hard look. “Is that why you came sniffing around me? Is that why you got me a good deal on boxing gloves for my husband hoping to get on my good side and hoping that I’d work for you?”
“Listen, June, everyone can use a bit of extra pocket money. The work is easy. You go only as far as you want. The rest is up to you. There’s no pressure. No strings. Some guys are so lonely for a woman’s companionship that they just wanna talk. Some guys just wanna feel and see your tits. Other guys expect a little more, a hand job. Some of my girls make as much as a thousand dollars a night for giving guys blowjobs and more.” He gave her his smug look. “Do you suck cock, June?”
“Get out of my house, Larry.”
“C’mon, June, it’s just sex,” he said wrapping an arm around her waist, in the way of a Boa Constrictor.
“Get out, Larry,” she said pushing against his chest and unwinding herself from his grasp, while pushing him out the door with a straight arm.
“Listen,” he said turning to face her and reaching out his hand to cup her tit through her blouse. “You have my card, call me if you change your mind and if you want—”
“My husband will be home soon,” she said looking down and watching his fingers find and feel her nipple, “and if you don’t want him trying out his birthday gift on your face, I suggest you leave. Now!”
Even though the thoughts of being an escort intrigued her, at first, she didn’t think of the sexual requirements of the job, until now. Sounding like fun, she thought only of the entertainment factors, going out to eat, attending shows, and having interesting conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Now, June didn’t think any more about Larry or about his escort business. She rationalized that when Larry presented her the proposition, she had just sent her last child to school and was bored with her life of housewife. Now, thinking more about and confronted with the reality of what was expected of her as an escort, she decided that she couldn’t sell herself for any amount of money.
It made her skin crawl to think about another man kissing her, touching up, and expecting her to give him a hand job, blowjob or to fuck her. Notwithstanding how she first felt about having sex with a man, other than her husband, when she thought about the feel of a stranger’s cock in her hand, in her mouth or up her pussy, she became sexually aroused. Maybe, she’d reconsidered, if the money was right and the man was nice. She could do it with an attractive man, someone more her age, but chances are that she’d have to escort a much older man, someone who wasn’t as attractive and/or appealing. Suddenly she thought of a bald, fat man in his fifties sickened her. She threw up in her mouth a little and her skin crawled again.
Besides, what would she say to John? How would she get out of the house? How would she explain the sudden infusion of money? In all the years together, she had never lied to him, not once, not ever.
Still, there was a flicker of excitement whenever she thought about Larry fondling her tit. Even though Larry was not much to look at, wasn’t her type, and she wasn’t attracted to him, his sudden touch of her nipple through her blouse and bra with his fingertips sent sexual shivers throughout her body that made her wet with desire for the attention of a man, other than her husband. She wondered what it would be like to make love to Larry and to suck his cock. She wondered what his cock looked like, if he was cut or uncut and how big he was. He had made her horny enough that day, but she resisted reaching down and feeling his erection. She knew that he had one because she saw it grow, as soon as he touched her breast.
Now, she wished he had forced her hand down on his erection and made her touch his cock and feel it. While she touched her wet spot in the privacy of her closed bedroom, she wished that he had forced her to blow him. She liked the attention that he gave her and the way that he looked at her was how John used to look at her. The realization scared her that she’d do anything to receive that attention again. Moving her finger away from her pussy, she quickly erased the thoughts of Larry from her mind.
John had steadily been working 50 plus hours a week and he was always so tired, too tired to do anything, even have sex, except for her giving him a blowjob. He was always in the mood for that. He was never in the mood to spend some extra time pleasuring her. Yet, when it came to reciprocating and satisfying her sexually, he had already turned over and gone to sleep. They hardly ever made love anymore, not since the kids were born, one right after the other. And now, with the things that had suddenly happened and changed their lives for the worse, John was depressed. Sometimes he had trouble getting it up and would suddenly go soft in her mouth. Tired of having to satisfy herself with her fingers, she was always so horny. She missed the feeling of a man inside of her humping her, while fucking her.
She missed the romance and the attentiveness that diminished more with the birth of each child. Now, with her days filled with drudgery and with one day melding into the next, until she didn’t know what day it was, except for the joy of her children, she felt that there was no purpose to her life. She was too young to give up her life to them and to relegate her identity to just that of wife, housekeeper, and mother. She wanted something more. She wanted some excitement in her life. Only, there was never any extra money for anything. She couldn’t remember the last time John took her out to eat or to a movie or bought her flowers. She couldn’t remember when there was money enough to get her hair done. forget about buying something new.
The next few months were rough. The manufacturing plant where her husband worked had fallen upon hard times with cash flow problems and he soon became nervous about his job. He had seniority, but it was not a union shop and they had just cut out all of his overtime to save money due to production cuts. Now, June was hard pressed to live on his regular paycheck without the overtime. They had continually counted on that extra money. The overtime is what kept them afloat. It was a trickledown effect and they were at the bottom of the trickle. General Electric, the company’s biggest customer, gave a large contract to India with some of the work that would have come his company’s way was now earmarked for overseas. Unless the company found new customers and more business, layoffs were inevitable.
Even the local McDonald’s and Wal-Mart weren’t hiring. Suddenly, everyone was tightening their belts readying for a recession. There were no jobs and those that had jobs were digging in and doing everything that they could do to keep them. People stopped spending money. Entertainment, movies and going out to dinner, were the first things to stop. Restaurants were shortening their hours or closing completely. Especially with all the mortgage foreclosures, everyone feared a recession that could last years.
Chapter 4: Little Red Riding Hood
Morgan grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me back. “I really don’t like this, Johanna.”
“I don’t care. You owe it to me.”
“Sweetheart, this will only lead you down a -”
“Spare me.” Just then I tripped on a groove in the pavement. I wasn’t used to wearing such immensely high hells. Morgan steadied me and I unfortunately had to look at her.
“I know you’re hurt. I know, okay? And it sucks that Tate let you down so much, and that I let you down so much. And it’s awful you’re seeing all the not-so-glamorous parts of this job. You just have to remember it’s a means to an end, not for fucking life! And if you meet Thomas and you get into the shit storm I’ve gotten myself into, you’ll be doomed forever. Please, let’s just go back home.”
Her words were valid. I knew I was doing something I would possibly never be able to get myself out of. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea. I was eager for self-destruction. I was inexplicably disappointed in Tate and I wanted to lash out. All I could think of was the way he shed the cultured facade he had and took me, treated me like a whore, and left me shaking on the sofa. If he wanted me to only be a whore, I’d be a whore. I wanted to ruin whatever was between us. I wanted a brutal reminder of what world I was in. Meeting Thomas would be that.
Perhaps I should just go get hammered or get a tattoo or pierce my eyebrow. Something drastic and damaging, but something that wouldn’t be equivalent to selling my soul.
And then the whore Rebecca stepped out into the street a few blocks down. She was far away but I could still make out her challenging stare. I ran hands down the red dress I wore, smoothing its wrinkles and its catches on some of my more unflattering curves.
Morgan followed behind, muttering something under her breath. Then, “You know Tate’s not going to like this, right? I know that’s the whole point of you doing this but I want you to understand he’s probably going to drop you. He doesn’t share, and he doesn’t deal with girls who have pimps.”
“I don’t care,” I said. My heels were going to wear off at the rate I was stomping towards the bar.
It was a tiny dive, smokey and cramped. The scents of cigarettes, spilled tequila, and shame assaulted me as I made my way further into hell. It was empty except for the tall, thin man I imagined to be Thomas, Rebecca, and two other girls. They were all so skinny I wouldn’t be surprised to hear they were on coke.
Immediately Morgan’s demeanor shifted. She grew quiet, tense, and submissive in a way I never saw before. She moved to stand in front of me and gestured to Thomas in greeting.
“Who have you brought me?” Thomas asked. He grinned at me but there was a calculating gleam in his eyes that made me shudder.
Morgan looked back at me, her eyes softening. She shook her head minutely and then turned back to her pimp. “Her name is–”
“Come here,” he ordered, his black eyes focused on me. “I want to see you up close.”
On shaky legs I crossed the floor. Rebecca snickered when I bumped my hip into a table. Thomas sighed.
“Rebecca, I’m sick of you. Leave the room.”
His words were apparently enough. Rebecca quickly made her way out like a frightened child, not sparing me another glance. Thomas’s grin returned.
“I don’t like it when my girls fight, and I don’t tolerate petty jealousies. Now come here.”
I finally made it to him and forced myself to hold still as his soft hands ran through my hair. He fingered my bangs and rolled his eyes.
“I really don’t like bangs. You’ll have to pin them back.”
Finally having a chance to get a good look at him, I wasn’t impressed. He looked about thirty and, though he was tall, he was extraordinarily skinny which gave one the idea he was weak. But that one glimpse of what lingered beneath that unsuspecting facade was enough to have me hold very, very still.
He circled around me, touching my hip, stroking my back, poking my stomach. He pressed his hand against my tit and barked out a laugh when I jumped.
“Sit down, baby. Let’s go over a few things.”
I sat down at a table that looked like any minute it might collapse. He plopped down across from me and gestured to one of the other girls. She quickly ran over to the bar and said something to the aging bartender cleaning up. He poured him a glass of beer which she nearly spilled in her rush to get back to Thomas.
All while this went on, Thomas’s black eyes never strayed from my face. He wanted me to see this display of power, I guess, and he wanted to watch every emotion and thought play across my expression.
“What is your name?” he asked.
I had to clear my throat of its nerves before I could answer. “Johanna.”
“Why do you want to work for me?”
“I need money. And I’m not making enough on my own.”
He smiled briefly. “Of course you’re not. You should know I take 60% of everything my girls make. 60%. Sounds like a lot but you’re going to be making more than you know what to do with. Understand? I have lots of rules. Going into this you gotta know so you don’t make a mistake. I don’t like mistakes.”
I just nodded.
“From now on I own you. I own everything you do. You’re not allowed to do anything without my say-so. You want to buy a dress? You call me first and let me decide if you need it. You want to take a shit? Not before some customer wants anal. You need to ask me first. Got it? You can’t say no to anything. I decide what you can do and what you can’t.”
It felt hot and small in that trap of a bar. I was sweating and probably visibly shaking. I should have run but I’d come this far. I felt Morgan’s clammy hand on my shoulder and I took a heavy breath.
Thomas watched the scene, watched my reaction, and nodded. “This is real shit, JoJo. I want you to fully understand what this is before you accept, because once you do there ain’t no going back. And one last thing– I get to sample the goods before I take you on.”
Now I knew I was shaking. My knees were knocking together and I couldn’t get them to stop. I couldn’t even keep up the brave face anymore; I’m sure I looked terrified.
Thomas reached over to cup my cheek. “You look like Little Red Riding Hood in that dress, baby. I like it. I like feeling like the Big Bad Wolf. I want you to wear red every day. That’s your first test, little Red.”
I swallowed down bile and forced myself to hold still. He brushed his fingers against my lips.
“I’ll try you in two days. Saturday. Be waxed. Come back here and I’ll take you. You can go, JoJo.”
I stood too fast and almost fell on my face. Morgan steadied me and took my arm. We started to leave but then Thomas called us back.
She slowly slid her eyes in his direction.
When we got back to our apartment I had three messages from Tate. All were asking me where I was, and that he wanted to do dinner tomorrow night at 7. I had a message from Lou, my boss from the diner. He wanted me to come in during the weekend to work a bunch of odds and ends shifts no one else wanted to take. I made the decision not to call him back. I didn’t need to work there anymore, anyway. That part of my life was gone. That Johanna was dead.
I headed straight for the shower, tearing off that red dress and jumping beneath the boiling hot spray. I wanted to wash off his handprint from my cheek, the sickening sensations of his touch on my body. I wanted to wash away the memory of that whole bar.
I thought about sleeping with him and dry heaved. How the fuck would I ever go through with it?
When it seemed I used all the hot water and I was pruning up, I turned off the faucet and pulled back the shower curtain. Morgan was there, leaning against the wall. Her face was so sad.
“Do you see now, Jo? Not as glamorous as you thought.”
“I never thought it was glamorous,” I muttered. My voice was unrecognizable.
Her lips twisted. “You want revenge, but like Hanzo says in Kill Bill, revenge is never a straight line.”
I rolled my eyes. “Leave it to you to quote a Tarantino movie.”
“Seriously. I know you’re pissed at Tate. Good. Fine. But don’t do this. You can still back out. I’ll find you someone else if you don’t think you can deal with Tate anymore and you can just be on our own. You don’t need Thomas.”
I sat down on the edge of the tub, still dripping from my shower. I was cold as the air blew against my wet skin but I didn’t feel like getting dressed. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I was bone-tired.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know who I am.”
Morgan laughed. “You’ll find that everyone feels that way, hooker or not. Now get dressed. Let’s go get drunk.”
I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because Thomas had instilled enough fear in me that he would somehow know if I complied. Maybe because it was the only outfit I had clean. Maybe it was because I was still punishing myself. Whatever the reason, I pulled on another red dress I had. It really suited me.
Because I felt like I was betraying him, I put Tate’s necklace on, too. That way I was equally paying tribute to two men who wanted to own me.
Morgan frowned when she saw me wearing red but she didn’t say anything.
The club she brought us to had lots of flashing lights and people who were barely dressed. It was the kind of place I’d never dare go to before. Now I walked up to it, not even thinking about being uncomfortable. Slowly but surely I was growing more confident with my body, and with those eyes that followed it. They were considerably less harmless than other monsters I’d encountered.
The bouncer let us in. We hauled ass to the bar. I ordered vodka; she got tequila shots for the both of us. We were already feeling loose-limbed and happy by the time we skated out to the dance floor.
A hypnotic beat began to vibrate through the speakers, humming through the floors and pulsing through our bodies. We writhed against one another, laughing when our breasts touched. Guys came and went around us, pounding their hard pelvises into us to the music. We paid them little attention; they were faceless.
Morgan moved away to dance with a handsome guy who asked to buy her a drink. She laughed, waving at me before she disappeared into the throng of bodies. I danced alone, winding my arms up above me and rocking my hips back and forth.
I felt the chest of a man press into my back. I rested against him. The exertion of dancing for God knows how long plus the vodka and tequila working its way through my bloodstream made me weak. His rough hands ran down my arms, resting when they found my own. The man intertwined our fingers and set us on a slow erotic dance that contrasted with the slamming quick song currently playing.
His hips pushed into my ass and I gasped when I felt him there, hard and hot. He was wearing trousers, not jeans, so it was much easier to feel the outline of his cock. In spite of not knowing who he was or what he looked like, my body responded. My nipples hardened, my pussy prepared itself, and every inch of my flesh wanted this man inside me.
I twirled in his arms, the liquor loosening my inhibitions enough to suggest just that. Then I saw who it was. Tate continued to dance, his glare murderous in the flashing lights of every color. He dragged my body back to me, grinding his cock against my stomach as the music went on. He said something but I couldn’t understand him, so he moved his wet lips to my ear.
We danced like that, angry but desperate for the feel of our bodies rubbing against one another, for what seemed like hours. He licked the sweat from my neck and I scratched at his back. He roughly stepped between my legs, fucking my hip as I rode my pussy against his strong thigh.
His lips found my collarbone. His tongue snaked out to wind its way up and down. Then he blew against the sensitive and damp skin and I shattered into pieces.
“Take me home,” I begged in his ear.
He moved away from me and took my hand, practically dragging me to the door. We took a cab and he mauled me in the back, heedless of the driver watching us in the rearview mirror. He murmured the address to the driver while I collapsed against the seat. Then Tate turned back to me, eager to exact his revenge on me avoiding him.
“I don’t like having to chase you,” he grunted. He popped my breast out of the dress, concealing me from the driver’s eyes. “Morgan told me you were going to a club when I called her. I didn’t know where you were, that’s why I called her, so don’t freak out about that.”
Dimly it occurred to me the cabbie might crash over the show we were giving him, but then I remembered we were in NY. He probably saw this all the time.
“I do like when you don’t wear a bra, however.” Tate’s tongue circled around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. It would have been painful if it were anyone else, but the sight of the back of Tate’s dirty-blonde head made my pussy even more drenched than before.
He took his mouth away. The cool air against my wet breast made me moan.
“You’re mad at me.”
I just nodded.
“Because of last night.”
I nodded again.
“I’ll have to fix that, I guess. But in the meantime…” His hand reached between my thighs. I tried to clench them, consciously aware we were speeding along city streets and stopping at endless red lights. I didn’t want anyone to see, in spite of how the thought of someone watching Tate fingering me surprisingly made me wetter.
He just shook his head and kissed my lips, pushing his tongue through them to dance with mine. His clever fingers tickled the soaked panties that were practically sticking to me now.
“How I want you. I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight you’re not going to remember anything in the morning but my name and my cock.”
Like the little whore I was, I made a whimpering noise. Tate snuck his thick middle finger around the side of my pants and slipped the whole thing inside of me. I shook around it, an orgasm just in reach. Then the cab stopped, and Tate stopped, and I nearly cried. Tate paid the driver with his sticky fingers and then he pulled me out into the blistering cold. It almost sobered me up enough to forget the delight Tate’s body could bring me. Almost.
Then I looked around me and realized I was not at my apartment building.
“Shush. We’re at my place.” He yanked my arm and dragged me up the stairs, nodding at his doorman as the older gentleman opened the large doors for us. My mouth dropped open. I’d never seen such a magnificent apartment building before. Not even my father lived in such a place. I was still a little drunk so I wasn’t even sure where we were in relation to my apartment.
And why the hell was Tate bringing me there? We got on the elevator with a few other couples. I stared at his profile the whole time, trying to figure him out with my clouded mind. While we made the ascent, I got out my cell to text Morgan.
“Am with Tate. Are you okay?”
She texted me back right away. “Figured. I’m home. Have fun. ”
We got out on the thirtieth floor. I followed Tate, completely mystified. He unlocked the door to his apartment and practically pushed me inside.
It was dark and he didn’t bother turning on the lights. He took my hand and lead me to his bedroom, tossing me on the soft bed. It was pitch black so I couldn’t see him, but I could sense him standing in front of me.
“You can snoop around my apartment tomorrow. I need to fuck you tonight, and I need my cock in your mouth right now.”
He turned on a lamp that shed a little faint light on his bedroom. It was simple and very masculine with dark grey walls and black bedsheets. A painting of a flower in full blossom hung above the back of the bed. A dresser with a large mirror on top was to the right of us. Other than that, the bedroom was unadorned. I liked it. It was very Tate– understated but refined.
He pulled my head toward him so I could refocus. He removed his shirt and lowered the zipper of his trousers to reveal the silk grey boxers underneath. I could make out the wetness his precum caused and I just had to squeeze my legs together. He smiled at me, cupping my face.
“Suck me,” he whispered. It was half-command, half-plea.
I was eager to. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking him in. I wanted to make him as unhinged in my hands as I was in his.
I violently tugged his boxers down, using much more force than I normally did. I was drunk with the desire to possess him; there was little room for bashfulness now.
His hard cock presented itself for licking, and lick I did. I even traveled down to his balls, sucking one and then the other. I licked at that tender spot behind them, twirling my tongue around and rejoicing when he thrust his cock into my face. I held his balls while my mouth made its way back to his cock. I kissed the tip of the head just gently with my lips. When I pulled away, a long stream of precum came with me. I glanced up at him and licked my lips, drinking it in. His whole face dropped with agonized pleasure as he groaned.
And then I took him in, squeezing his balls just as his cock lodged in my throat.
“Fuck, Johanna,” he screamed. His hand grabbed the back of my hair and he pulled me off of him.
I opened my mouth to complain and he took that moment to push me right back. It dawned on me what he wanted. He wanted to fuck my face.
“Fuck, yes. Take that cock.”
I did. I took it all the way down, lathering it with my saliva and loving it with my tongue. He really pumped his way in now, going too far down and making me gag. My eyes watered. He pulled out and muttered “sorry”.
We went on like this for a while until I felt his balls tightening. He was going to cum.
He ripped his cock from me. “I want to fuck you,” he panted. “It’s gonna be hard and fast.”
He threw me back on the bed and tore off my red dress, tossing it somewhere behind him. He stroked my necklace, his eyes glowing possessively. Then he savagely pushed down my panties until they just reached my thighs.
He hunched between my legs and penetrated me deeply in one slick slide.
“Shit!” I screamed, feeling that orgasm that had been taunting me peek its head back up.
His hands grabbed my sides. “Scream for me.”
I moaned every time he sunk into me. It was slow at first but he quickly gained momentum, slamming into me with a grunt.
One of his hands left my side to circle around my soaked clit. “You’re gonna cum around my cock, Johanna. And soon.”
He sucked on my nipple. I shook around him. “Oh God. Oh God, oh God.”
“Yes,” he yelled, fucking me with ferocity. “Cum now!”
My pussy trembled. Every muscle in my body tightened. My glazed eyes met his. I released, cumming and cumming. It wouldn’t cease. I could feel me leaking out around his cock, dripping onto my thighs.
Then he pushed further and harder into me, stopping and shaking all over. His cock leapt and then pulsed out streams of cum.
He removed himself after he caught his breath. He muttered something complimentary and ran a lazy hand over my body, catching on a nipple. I gasped when the sensation made my pussy clench again.
We rested for a while. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I was going to explain Thomas to him. He was going to be furious. My body was still buzzing from the fabulous fuck we had, but dread was thumping hard in my chest. I had to get rid of it.
“Tate. I did something. Something really–”
“Shut the fuck up. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Everything tomorrow.” He pulled me close to him, laughing when he felt his still-warm cum spilling out of me. “You’re such a good girl. You make me cum so good.”
“Tate. Seriously. I–”
“Tomorrow,” he mumbled sleepily.
A copyright of BlackMasterSHANGO’s Blog
BASED ON A TRUE STORY
Zee drove back to his pad after two hours of playing basketball at one of his friend’s courtyard. His apartment was situated in a condo suit overlooking the crystalline waters of Frisco Beach. The neighbourhood was quiet and ultra-modern, and though the price tag had been kind of a cut-throat to settle, he felt good having secured it, knowing a lot of brothers out there would be just as envious to be holed up in an area like this.
He entered his lush apartment, dropped his gym bag and face towel on a couch, threw his car keys on a coffee table and went into the bedroom. He showered then went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He put on a jazz album in his disc player then went into the kitchen to drink some water. Having cooled off a bit, he returned to his bedroom to sit at his desktop computer to check his online emails and correspondences. He smiled when he saw that he’d caught another woman’s attention with the thread post he’d made a couple of days ago at an interracial online forum site dedicated towards interracial dating and hook-ups. In the discussion thread he’d asked the question if there were any white women out there desiring a chance of wanting to be pimped.
Pimping was his game, and if any sexy women around felt the need for a taste of black experience and more, then they need not look any further. He’d left his email address at the end of the thread and wrote that they should give him a shout-out whenever they feel like it. Two women had already contacted him, and now here was a third. He clicked on the mail and began to read:
Hi there Pimp Zee,
My name’s Marilyn. I read your thread at the__ forum and would like to get in touch with you regarding it. I’ve got a ’36DD pair of tits, and I’ve got a thick ass to match LOL. Please write to me or even better call me at this number below. Can’t wait to hear from you.
Zee scribbled down her phone number on a pad then checked through his other mails before deciding to give her a call. The phone rang a third time before being picked up. The woman at the other end of the line said “Hello” into his ear. She had a nice sounding voice; Zee hopped that it was Marilyn and not someone else.
“Hi, my name’s Pimp Zee, and I’m calling—”
“Oh my God,” the woman exclaimed delight in her voice. “Hi there, Zee. This is Marilyn on the line.”
“Hi Marilyn. I just finished reading your mail that you sent me and thought I’d give you a call.”
“Thanks for calling, Zee. Tell me, is that really your name or something you picked up?”
Zee couldn’t help but laugh; it had been a long time since anyone thought it curious to inquire about his nickname. “My real name is Zeke Darren, but people know me as Pimp Zee. Pimping is what I do, which is pimp lovely white chicks.”
“White chicks who love tasting black meat, is that it?” she chuckled into his ear.
“Yep that’s it, babe. So how about you telling me a little about yourself?”
“Well, Marilyn is my first name. I’m in my mid-thirties, being married for thirteen years with three kids; I work part-time at an animal shelter and I enjoy knitting.”
“That sounds nice. In other words, you’re a homely type of woman.”
“Well, if you want to put it that way, yeah I am. I hope that’s not disappointing?”
“No, it really isn’t. I do enjoy hooking up with homely women. So now tell me about your love life. You enjoy having sex?”
“Oh yes, I love having it. Just that my darling husband can’t keep up with me at all, so I’ve had to look outside for assistance.”
“All right, that’s good to hear. So tell me why you’re interested in wanting to get pimped?”
Girlish laughter echoed in his ear before Marilyn answered. “Well it’s like this. As I said already, my husband has for a long time been unable to satisfy me in bed, and its been quite frustrating for me. He enjoys knowing that there’re men out there clamouring for me, and several times I’ve gone out of me to get other men’s attention. They’ve all been white, and though the few ones I’ve been with have been somewhat good … I still feel incompletely satisfied about it. Since I became a member at that forum, seeing naked pictures of some of the black men in there … and also picking interest in watching interracial porn movies (another pause for giggle) anyway, I just feel that I need to try me some big black cock. I can’t help picturing myself getting used like the white girls in those adult movies. And when I saw your thread post … well, you get the idea don’t you?”
“Yes, I sure do.” Zee was growing a noticeable erection just from listening to her chatter. He pulled down his zipper and unearthed his tool out of his shorts and began stroking it while at the same time nodding his head to her words. “So tell me Marilyn, ever deep-throated anyone before?”
“Err … well … I really wouldn’t know …”
“Alright let’s side-step that for now. How about anal sex, ever tried it?”
“No, no, I haven’t … not really looking forward to it yet … maybe in the future when I’m like ready enough. It scares me.”
“It’s always scary at first, but trust me later you’ll come to love it. Two other questions for you: where are you right now and what’re you putting on?”
Another round of girlish chuckle—Zee couldn’t help it—he was really liking this woman. Just the sweet sultriness in her voice was getting him hard right there. He reckoned she would go far by the time he was done breaking into her.
“I’ve just returned home from work and I’m in my kitchen right now fixing dinner, and I’m putting on a tank top and a brown skirt. Why did you ask?”
“Just trying to take note is all. Are you feeling randy right now?”
A pause. “Well … I don’t know if I should—”
“Well you should know, Marilyn,” Zee went on stroking his cock, his voice sounded serene as if he was talking in his sleep. “Let’s say a black man was in there standing right next to you right now and he really wanted to fuck you, tell me what would you say to him? Let your imagination run wild on this one.”
“I don’t know, I’ve never been surprised that way before … but since you asked, I guess I’d forget about cooking dinner and let him have me.”
“That’s not the appropriate sentence to use, Marilyn. Tell me you’d let him fuck you. Say that for me.”
“Okay, I would love for him to fuck me. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. When was the last time some guy made you cum? And I’m talking about explosive cum. The kind that rattles your inside all the way to your bones.”
She thought for a moment, then said: “I’m not going to lie to you, it’s been so long—maybe while I fucked one of those white guys a month ago. I can barely remember it.”
“Hmmm, too bad. I’ll bet you’re anxious to want to experience that again?”
She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Oh yes, yes, yes … very much, I’d love to.”
“Has your husband ever been there watching you getting fucked before?”
“Once, though the last time I did it was in a motel, though I did tell him about it afterwards. I know he wouldn’t mind seeing me getting fucked by a black man. I think he’d go crazy just to see me getting used.”
“What about your kids?”
“They’re away in college. The house is only me and Danny my husband.”
“That’s good to know. So you’d really like for me to give you the black cock hook-up, right? Better say it loud so I know you mean it.”
“Yes!” she affirmed. “Yes, I’d love nothing more than to have my first taste of black cock. I’ve seen, read and heard so much about it, I’d really love to try it for myself.”
“Very well then.” His hand left stroking his erection and reached for his pen and jotter pad. “I’m going to swing by your house and get a taste of that pussy first. That’s usually how I work, if you don’t mind.”
Another burst of giggles. “No, I really don’t. I’d really like to meet with you as well.”
“Okay. Let me have your home address, and tell me when you’d like me to swing by?”
“Well let’s see … today’s Thursday, how about we make it the weekend, Saturday. I’ll be at home all through and you can come by whenever it pleases you. Here’s my address; are you ready?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” Zee listened as she narrated her address out for him. He told her he would be in touch and for her to save his number in her phone so as to get at him anytime. They exchanged pleasantries before hanging up. His erection hadn’t died completely; he was still wired from the sound of her cute voice. He left his chair and went into the bathroom and jerked himself off inside the toilet bowl.
Zee went about his normal business that Thursday night till Friday. His mind shelved off anything that had to do with his impending meeting with Marilyn. It helped him to focus better when he didn’t think too seriously of his dates.
By Friday evening when he got back from work, he checked his mail and saw that she’d written to him again. This time she had attached a couple of snapshots of herself. There was one she’d taken some months back while on a holiday trip with her husband down at Yellowstone Park. Her body still looked firm, though not as curvaceous as a woman in her twenties, Zee thought, but who really cared, as long as the pussy’s good. She was a mature-looking lady—a cougar in the making. Her hair was thick and flaming red; she had a round face with a splatter of freckles on her arm and shoulder. She had jutting hips with a nice pair of round ass. Ass good enough to smack, he mused.
And her tits sure looked plump. The other snapshots (three of them) were of her naked lying on a bed striking different poises; photos had probably been taken by her man, he thought. One of them she was bent over, facing the opposite wall, her hands reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, showing the camera an up-close view of her glistening coochie. What a nice coochie that’s got to be, Zee licked his lips in anticipation of what tomorrow would bring. In the mail, she’d written:
Hope you like the pics. There’s plenty more where those came from. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Lots of love,
Zee couldn’t wait either.
Friday morning arrived. He’d called Marilyn informing her he’d be at her doorstep between eleven and noon; he was there in his Range Rover Jeep at 11:37 a.m.
Marilyn’s home was a simple brick structure with a well kept front yard. Zee parked his car beside their driveway and walked towards the front door. He didn’t make it in time before the door flew open and there stood Marilyn welcoming him with a brimming smile. She was wearing a knee-length purple bathrobe; Zee wondered if she had any surprises lurking inside it. It wasn’t long before he found the answer to that question.
“Nice to finally meet you, Marilyn,” he came and embraced her, feeling her ample breasts press against his chest, sending a ‘come alive’ signal to his crotch. He wore a tight sweat shirt and blue jeans, his desire to get her to acknowledge his physique which evidently she did.
“Nice to meet you too, Zee,” she caressed the muscles on his arm. “Hmm, you must really work out.”
“As much as I can. A brother’s always got to keep fit.”
She invited him into her home and closed the door behind him, turning in the key as well. Zee asked about her husband and she told him he’d gone out to get some late shopping and probably won’t be back for another hour or two. She would have gone with him, except she just had to attend to Zee’s coming over.
“Would you care for something to drink?” she
“Nah, I’m good for now, thanks.”
They sat close to each other on the long sofa. Marilyn raised her robe and folded her legs behind her, her eyes focused on her visitor. Her robe parted slightly to give Zee a good view of her meaty thigh. Zee felt another rise in his crotch; he couldn’t wait to feel his hands over the flesh of that thigh.
“You told your man that I’d be coming around today?”
“Oh yeah, he knows. I know he’d like to meet you.”
“As long as he doesn’t take all day to get the shopping done.” He indicated at her robe. “You got anything lurking behind that robe I need to see?”
She smiled and then got up from the couch, standing before him. “Actually I thought you’d never ask.” She loosened her robe and let it slip from her arms to reveal her nakedness underneath. She had on a purple thong and black thigh stockings and nothing else. Zee adjusted himself on the couch as he felt the pressure of his cock squirming inside his jeans, begging for its freedom. Marilyn turned around and wiggled her ample-sized bum at him; he nodded his approval at what he saw.
“Nice, very nice. How about you bringing that lovely body of yours over here,” he indicated at his lap. “Come sit over big daddy’s legs.”
Marilyn went to him dutifully. She crossed her legs over his thighs straddling him, as Zee adjusted himself further to make her comfy. Her ass pressed down on the tent that was his crotch while her breasts with their jutting nipples met his face. Zee didn’t withhold himself from kissing her tits, hearing her moan as he bit on her right nipple. He grasped her ass, loved the feel of their ample roundness in his hands. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You’ve got a nice ass. I know a lot of brothers are going to love hitting on you.”
“Really? You think so? I always thought they looked kind of rumpled and ugly.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. Though as your pimp in concern, I’m going to have to test your pussy out. Need to make damn sure your body’s just right. Hope you don’t mind?”
“Oh sure, I was looking forward to that.” she grinned lasciviously. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is it true about that talk that once a white woman goes black, she hardly ever goes back? I keep thinking it’s something that sounds kind of bogus.”
“Nothing bogus about that, babe. That’s the real truth. A good thing too that you’re about to find out just how true it is.”
She bent her head and kissed him. “Hmmm, I hope you don’t mind if I suck your cock first?”
“Hell no I don’t.”
She climbed off him to the side and watched as he undid his belt buckle and then and pushed his jeans and boxer shorts to his ankle. He extracted his feet from his trainers and jeans and then sat back to give her a better view of what he was packing. Marilyn gasped at the sight of his cock, noted the way it curved an inch towards the right, with the black vein throbbing to the side. By far it was a cock bigger than her husband’s and those of her former boyfriends. She came forward and wrapped her fingers around it, feeling its pulsing power travel up her arm like a wave of electric current. My God, so it’s a true what they say about black cocks after all, she thought to herself, noting the pre-cum fluid that came out of the tiny hole of his cock’s bulbous head. Zee relished the look of awe that was on her face. It never ceased to amaze him how a lot of white wives tend to transform once their eyes set of his dick. A good thing it was for him that he was doing what he was doing and loving it.
“Wow, that is a big cock,” she confirmed, leaning closer towards it. “I’m getting wet already just from looking at it.”
“Then you’d better not keep me waiting, slut.” He pushed her head down on his cock.
Marilyn opened her mouth in time and grunted when his cock jammed all the way into her throat. She wrapped her thick lips quickly around it and proceeded to suck it. Zee sighed at the warm, wet presence of her mouth; he kept jamming her head down on his dick, wanting her to suck him faster. He loved nothing like a good blowjob, and a woman who knew very well how to give good head in his opinion was a certified keeper … that included black women, white, Asians, or even alien Martians.
“Yeah, go on and suck that fat cock,” he murmured while he pushed her hair off from her face. “I want you to open your jaws up and deep-throat it all the way, and don’t come up for air unless you have to.”
Marilyn did as he ordered. She let in air into her mouth and then took as much of his cock that she could swallow. She could feel the round head touching against her tonsil. She held it in her mouth for a moment before pulling back off, gasping for breath while she did. She spat on his cock, jerked it a couple of times then returned her head down to it. Her back was bent in a crouch; Zee extended his right arm under her body and rubbed the outward flesh that was her pussy. Marilyn squirmed from his touch, but still she remained her attention on sucking him. Zee held her head and began pumping his hips up, fucking her mouth as he wanted.
“Yeah, I’m gonna teach you how to suck a black cock,” he instructed her. “You’re gonna learn real good … gonna learn how to become a black man’s slut. Going to dress you as one too. Anytime you see a black man walking down the street, the first thing you’re going to be thinking about is getting that black cock of his jammed down your throat. That what you want, bitch?”
She gave a muffled grunt.
He smacked her bum and snapped at her. “Answer me, bitch!”
She freed her mouth from his cock and cried out: “Yes! Yes, that’s what I want!”
Zee opened his legs further for her to work her mouth on his balls too. When he felt he’d had enough, he pulled her up from his cock and got up. She wasn’t too happy about it, but figured it was alright. Zee made her lie back on the couch, pulled her hips forward and pushed her thong to the side so as to sink his lips unto her wet pussy. Marilyn squirmed and gasped abruptly from the contact of his tongue; she took newfound joy with the way it slipped and licked over her clit and wiggled her crotch before him. Zee brought his hands under her ass and pushed it up to get an affordable taste of her pussy and her juice pouring out of it. He was very good at this. His lips slid up and down, perusing her sweet, honey juice through her inner walls, then returning up to nibble on her clit. The sound of her moaning rose and fell like octave music notes in his ears.
Marilyn whimpered breathlessly, her hands squeezing her tits. “Oh my God! Ohhh Zee … Ohhh master! Oh don’t stop! I’m gonna … OHH SHIT! I’M GONNA CUM! I’M GONNA CUMMM!”
Her body shook all over and she went into a cycle of spasms as she pushed her body up from the couch, but Zee remained in control of the situation and didn’t let up from the appalling ecstasy he’d unleashed upon her. Her hands left her tits and pressed down on his head. His lips still remained locked on her clit, his tongue swimming in the sea of her pussy juice as she exploded into orgasm. When finally he pulled off, he left her there to simper in her delight while he wiped her cum off his face with her robe.
Marilyn remained where she was gasping. How long it had been since she carved for such an orgasm and here it was. It felt so fantastic she wanted to remain like that to savour the experience. Zee didn’t make her wait that long. He knelt by her head and offered her his cock. Marilyn grasped it and sucked it with as much passion her lips could muster.
“You ready to take that cock right now?” he asked her.
“Oh yes, I want it,” she moaned as she jerked his shaft. “I want it right now, master.”
Zee brought her to lean on the couch facing the wall, feeling his hand over her ample buttocks as he pulled her thong panties down her legs. At that moment there came the rattle of a key in the front door and their heads turned towards it as the door came open and in stepped her husband.
Danny was of average height, had a slender frame with wide-staring eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses. He had some packages in his arm and after closing the door and turning to face the naked persons in the room with him; his eyes seemed to nearly bulge out of their sockets at the sight before him. Zee was unfazed by the man disrupting them. Numerous occasions he’d been surprised this way and knew very well how to handle things when they called for it. His erection remained rock hard and throbbing with blood pumping in his veins.