CutiePie1997
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2016
- Posts
- 1,319
ON HOLD!
Tiffany
5' 7", 120#
35B-24-36
It was Day 3 of Tiffany's misadventure in London. Never in her life would she have imagined being in such a situation...
Her boyfriend, Connor, had gone off to Europe with friends after their high school graduation. Connor had been Tiffie's first and only kiss, her first and only fuck, her first and only blow job. She'd professed her undying love for him before he left. And Connor had promised to remain celibate until his return to Tiffie two months later.
Three weeks later, after monitoring his and his friends' social media, Tiffie came to the horrific realization that Connor was traveling with a slutty looking redhead from Salzburg who he'd met in Marseilles.
Tiffie panicked. She couldn't lose Connor. He was the love of her life, short as that life was at this point. Fearing she was losing him, Tiffie sent Connor multiple sexy pictures of herself, including some nudie pics she could only hope didn't end up on the internet.
Connor had thanked her, had told her (lied to her) that he was abiding by his vow of celibacy, and told her he couldn't wait to get back to her. Bullshit! she told herself again and again.
The only way to keep Connor was to meet him and dislodge the ginger slut from his life. Tiffie cleaned out her college fund, updated her passport and visas, and snuck off to the airport while her parents were away at the family's lake lodge for a week long vacation.
She'd arrived in London, the midway point of Connor's vacation, ready to reinsert herself into his life and his bed. Only Connor and his new lover had gone off to Austria instead, to stay with her family. Tiffie did all she could to contact Connor, by phone and by social media. But he had cut off communication with her. She couldn't even see his social media anymore. He'd blocked her from just about everything.
Two days of pitching a fit in every possible way and contacting all of his friends and family resulted in the last message Connor sent Tiffie: "Grow up!"
Tiffie was devastated.
And if that wasn't bad enough, her purse was stolen with all her cash, her IDs, and her passport. She had no credit cards. And she couldn't call her parents for help. First, they didn't even know she was gone yet. And second, they'd probably throw her out on the streets anyway.
As the sun descended this day, Tiffie realized she was going to be sleeping on the street. Desperate, she walked into a pub and started taking up conversations with a variety of men. She was hoping to find one kind enough to give her a place to sleep tonight. She would make them think they had a chance with her tomorrow, then disappear before she had to fulfill that suggestion.
Well, that went wrong, too. While talking to a man, she was offered more than just a bed to sleep in. Somehow, the transfer of money was mentioned, probably because Tiffie mentioned that she needed some. And before she knew it, she'd been arrested for prostitution.
Which brought her here, sitting on a bench in the local police station. She'd explained about her purse and passport. She was told that after she was processed, she'd be jailed through the weekend and arraigned on Monday.
Tiffie was once again thinking about calling her folks. They were the only family who could help her.
Or, were they?
Tiffie had totally forgotten that her mother's father lived here in London. She hadn't seen the man since she was 11 or 12. There had been an incident between him and her mother. After that, Tiffie hadn't seen or spoken to him again. Each year, she received a birthday card with $100 worth of English Pounds in it. She took them to the bank, exchanged them, and spent them on something fun.
Each Christmas, she got a box (or two or three) from Amazon with several hundred dollars worth of nice gifts in it. For reasons Tiffie didn't understand, her mom always opened the cards and boxes and looked through them. Mom never explained, and it just came to be the norm.
What Tiffie couldn't have known and still didn't know today was that her grandfather had what her mother politely referred to as inappropriate sexual tendencies, quirks, and deviancies. Her grandfather had never done or said anything inappropriate to or with Tiffie. Yet her mother hadn't been willing to take any chances.
She'd forbidden the man to get any where near her daughter. He'd protested, Tiffie thought. She could remember an argument out in the driveway on her 13th birthday. There was another one that Christmas and a third on her 14th birthday, too. After that, Gramps disappeared. All Tiffie ever saw of him were the cards, gifts, Dollars, and Pounds.
Her mother had even forced Tiffie to give over the passwords of her social media so that she could monitor from messages from the man. There hadn't been. Gramps had either gotten the picture or simply didn't know about Facebook, Twitter, and her other dozen social media platforms.
"I need to make a call," Tiffie called out to the officer who'd been watching over her. She explained that she did indeed have a relative in London and asked, "Can you call him and ask him to come bail me out?"
"Grow Up!"
(closed)
(closed)
Tiffany
5' 7", 120#
35B-24-36
It was Day 3 of Tiffany's misadventure in London. Never in her life would she have imagined being in such a situation...
Her boyfriend, Connor, had gone off to Europe with friends after their high school graduation. Connor had been Tiffie's first and only kiss, her first and only fuck, her first and only blow job. She'd professed her undying love for him before he left. And Connor had promised to remain celibate until his return to Tiffie two months later.
Three weeks later, after monitoring his and his friends' social media, Tiffie came to the horrific realization that Connor was traveling with a slutty looking redhead from Salzburg who he'd met in Marseilles.
Tiffie panicked. She couldn't lose Connor. He was the love of her life, short as that life was at this point. Fearing she was losing him, Tiffie sent Connor multiple sexy pictures of herself, including some nudie pics she could only hope didn't end up on the internet.
Connor had thanked her, had told her (lied to her) that he was abiding by his vow of celibacy, and told her he couldn't wait to get back to her. Bullshit! she told herself again and again.
The only way to keep Connor was to meet him and dislodge the ginger slut from his life. Tiffie cleaned out her college fund, updated her passport and visas, and snuck off to the airport while her parents were away at the family's lake lodge for a week long vacation.
She'd arrived in London, the midway point of Connor's vacation, ready to reinsert herself into his life and his bed. Only Connor and his new lover had gone off to Austria instead, to stay with her family. Tiffie did all she could to contact Connor, by phone and by social media. But he had cut off communication with her. She couldn't even see his social media anymore. He'd blocked her from just about everything.
Two days of pitching a fit in every possible way and contacting all of his friends and family resulted in the last message Connor sent Tiffie: "Grow up!"
Tiffie was devastated.
And if that wasn't bad enough, her purse was stolen with all her cash, her IDs, and her passport. She had no credit cards. And she couldn't call her parents for help. First, they didn't even know she was gone yet. And second, they'd probably throw her out on the streets anyway.
As the sun descended this day, Tiffie realized she was going to be sleeping on the street. Desperate, she walked into a pub and started taking up conversations with a variety of men. She was hoping to find one kind enough to give her a place to sleep tonight. She would make them think they had a chance with her tomorrow, then disappear before she had to fulfill that suggestion.
Well, that went wrong, too. While talking to a man, she was offered more than just a bed to sleep in. Somehow, the transfer of money was mentioned, probably because Tiffie mentioned that she needed some. And before she knew it, she'd been arrested for prostitution.
Which brought her here, sitting on a bench in the local police station. She'd explained about her purse and passport. She was told that after she was processed, she'd be jailed through the weekend and arraigned on Monday.
Tiffie was once again thinking about calling her folks. They were the only family who could help her.
Or, were they?
Tiffie had totally forgotten that her mother's father lived here in London. She hadn't seen the man since she was 11 or 12. There had been an incident between him and her mother. After that, Tiffie hadn't seen or spoken to him again. Each year, she received a birthday card with $100 worth of English Pounds in it. She took them to the bank, exchanged them, and spent them on something fun.
Each Christmas, she got a box (or two or three) from Amazon with several hundred dollars worth of nice gifts in it. For reasons Tiffie didn't understand, her mom always opened the cards and boxes and looked through them. Mom never explained, and it just came to be the norm.
What Tiffie couldn't have known and still didn't know today was that her grandfather had what her mother politely referred to as inappropriate sexual tendencies, quirks, and deviancies. Her grandfather had never done or said anything inappropriate to or with Tiffie. Yet her mother hadn't been willing to take any chances.
She'd forbidden the man to get any where near her daughter. He'd protested, Tiffie thought. She could remember an argument out in the driveway on her 13th birthday. There was another one that Christmas and a third on her 14th birthday, too. After that, Gramps disappeared. All Tiffie ever saw of him were the cards, gifts, Dollars, and Pounds.
Her mother had even forced Tiffie to give over the passwords of her social media so that she could monitor from messages from the man. There hadn't been. Gramps had either gotten the picture or simply didn't know about Facebook, Twitter, and her other dozen social media platforms.
"I need to make a call," Tiffie called out to the officer who'd been watching over her. She explained that she did indeed have a relative in London and asked, "Can you call him and ask him to come bail me out?"
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