The Oldest Profession

[pen_an_dink]

David Fennel, the newly elected alderman of district 5, looked warily up and down the dimly lit street before entering "The Juke Box". In his recently completed campaign, he had railed on about this and the similar establishments which soiled Willard Ave. He had vowed to close them all down. He had promised to clean up the red-light district. He had preached in the local churches about his intent to rid the 5th district of: peep shows, flop houses, pornographic book and video stores, strip joints. He would reclaim Satan's strip for the good people of the city. He was a man on a mission and a hoard of church going, moral citizens had rallied behind him.

"A city where a family can stroll the streets without fear of scandalizing our children," A phrase he had worked into every speech he had given for the past 2 years, echoed through his mind as he pulled the saloon door open. He had been drawn to make a clandestine visit to this most lucrative of dives before he really got busy lobbying the other council members to support his ordinances.

David was a young man who had dedicated himself to a life of political and social service. He had been the youngest law school graduate in State's history. He had served on committees and boards even in his high school days. At twenty-seven he was the youngest alderman ever elected to the city council. One might wonder about the sexual needs of single moralist campaigner like David Fennel.

He had dated girls since his junior year at JFK high but his ambitions kept him from any lasting relationships. No, David saw where he wanted to go and swept away any potential obstacle from his the path. There were nagging sexual urges which in fact seemed to surface and roar in lock step with the vehemence he employed in attacking immorality. For example, he would slap the podium and scream about prostitutes, performing unnatural, and humanly degrading acts in the seedy allies of Willard Ave. He would portray young, lost, damned, drug addled women on their knees performing in plain sight. On and on he would go and his cock would indeed begin to rise in his trousers more demandingly with each assault. He thanked God that he was behind a suit jacket and the face of the podium.

He would feel deeply distressed and angry after one of these episodes. Naturally, a man would be pulled into arousal by a woman's overt sexuality. That is reason enough to shut the district down. How was a man to concentrate and dedicate himself in the presence of such wantonness? He had taken to driving Willard Ave after his speeches just to convince himself of the disgusting filth of the mercenary sluts. Their blatant sexual dress, their exposed thighs, breast even protruding panties sent him into righteous fits of ire. They also caused his dick to stiffen like a pole. Before he could continue with his work or concentrate on preparing his next attack, he was forced to take to his bed and masturbate as quickly as possible into a handful of tissues. He would conjure up the girls he had seen strutting or standing so seductively. He would imagine approaching them or performing furious lewd sex acts with them. After he exploded into his Kleenex, he would toss them out in disgust and immediately begin writing his next speech.

Now, here he was, entering the "Juke Box". It was research he told himself. "Know thy enemy,” he kept repeating. But, once again his cock stirred in his trousers. He pulled down his suit jacket and found himself an isolated bar stool. Soon his eyes became accustomed to the dingy lighting and the haze of cigarette smoke. It was easy to spot the "working girls." Their attire and their brazen attitude identified them immediately. He was outraged with their overt flaunting of sexuality. Below the surface and conscious mind the embers of his lusting nature glowed relentlessly. Then, he noticed a captivating creature slinking across the floor. She wore a tight satin skirt with a revealing slit up the side. The garment extended only far enough to cover her crotch and he ogled her shapely legs and tried despite himself to catch a glimpse of her panties as she walked. She wore a scoop necked top which displayed the upper half of her glorious breasts. He saw her only in silhouette but he was smitten. In the dim and colored lighting he saw only that she had light hair but the color was a mystery.

She approached a table occupied by two men and rested her elbows on the surface. She bent over deeply in doing this and he beheld a spectacular behind which rolled enticingly as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. He was seated directly behind her at the bar. He could see a delicious wedge of material between her legs, an erotic pouch of lace stretched across her most intimate opening. He imagined the explicit view the gentlemen must be enjoying of her exposed breasts. David's cock rose hard and erect against his lower abdomen. "How lewd. How obscene. His mouthed the words to himself without making a sound. He was sweating visibly. He licked his lips and stared....

*******
This thread will be written by Ladacee and myself. Hope you enjoy it.

 

[Ladacee]

The city was not unfamiliar to Ladacee. She had grown up in suburbia where real world truths were kept far from the ears of children. Her family were those of church-going people who practiced what they preached... or at least it would appear so. Her mother was a nurse at a children’s hospital and her father was a politician of some sort. What he did Ladacee never knew. What she did know is that he wore blue ties, twill suits and drank coffee so much he might as well have injected it into his veins. For most of her childhood her father was not present. Her memories consisted mostly of those with her mother. She could expect her father to be at church on Sunday, and home sometime after she went to bed at night. As a child her father was a very mysterious man; always reserved and occupied by a newspaper or Political news show. She grew accustomed to laying awake in her child’s bed until headlights flooded the driveway and she heard the familiar sound of the door opening. He was a loud, ruthless and foul mouthed man when he got home. He would yell at her mother and demand things that Ladacee didn’t understand.

When Ladacee turned fifteen she entered High School. Over the summer she had blossomed into quite a lady. She was a late bloomer until this time and when she became a freshman she became very popular with the boys. What once were slightly protruding breast buds had developed into full, plump D-cup breast that she could hardly keep locked away unless she wore a oversized t-shirt. Her lips became florid and her curiosity towards make-up accentuated her taking facial features. Within the next few months she transformed from the award thin she was in comparison with her strikingly ripe breasts. Her hips and ass became wide and full, complementing her breasts and creating almost the perfect hourglass figure.

As the envy of most of her female classmates and the lust of the male, Ladacee found an uneasy popularity. She was never the cheerleader or the straight-A-student like her Mother had encouraged. Instead she began to party with upperclassmen and experimenting with alcohol. Feeling the urge to seem as old as she looked she began smoking and drinking on a regular basis. Through her experiences partying with the older boys she learned to french kiss and preform oral sex. However, her devout Christian upbringing kept her from sleeping with any of the boys. In accordance with this moral rule she became known as a “tease” which heightened the competition among the Junior and Senior boys to get in her pants.

Though her popularity was blooming quite nicely her once close relationship with her mother had become detached. Her Mother had become exhausted by the drunken late-night abuses of Ladacee’s Father and decided to work the late night shift. Now Ladacee only saw her Mother for a few short hours between the time she got home for school and her Mother left for work. In effect her Mother was no longer present when her Father had returned from his night of boozing and angry political talk... but Ladacee was. A few weeks after Ladacee’s mother changed shifts her Father found his way to Ladacee’s room.

He would come in, wake Ladacee and muffle her surprise with his massive masculine hand. Without warning he’d use the strength of his other hand to part Ladacee’s thighs and push his already hardened cock into her virginate pussy. It happened one night and then it stopped for a few weeks. Every night Ladacee would lay in fear that she’d wake to his rough hands on her face and inner thighs again. Soon enough she had begun to accept that her Father had simply made a mistake and that she should forgive him. She began to wonder if maybe he was punishing her for something that night and she’d behaved since?

But then it happened again. This time he had not been drunk. It was a Saturday afternoon and Ladacee was showering before going out to a party. She had just stepped from the steaming glass shower onto a towel when she saw her Father’s eyes peeping through the cracked door. Her long wet locks of blonde hair clung to her shoulders and dewy breasts as she grabbed absent-mindedly for a towel. Just as she’d thrown the towel around her shapely figure her Father had burst in through the door and grabbed her around the waist. The towel dropped to the floor as he tossed her over his shoulder like most Fathers did with their young children.

He carried her to his room and threw her dripping adolescent body onto the bed. Ladacee struggled against the mess of sheets to regain herself while her Father tore at his belt buckle. She nearly made it off the side of the bed but he was too fast and strong for her. Pressing her wet body against the mangled bed sheets he raped her and blew his load all over her breasts. When he had finished he stood up and didn’t look at her. She lay there with hot tears running down the sides of her beautiful face. “Daddy...” She let out a whimper. He did up his belt and left the house.

That night Ladacee never went to a party. She shoved some clothes and a wad of cash she found in her parents bedroom drawer into a backpack and hitched to the city. It wasn’t long before she fell in place with the other runaways and earned her sense of community among the homeless. A week later she discovered the only thing that made the hunger go away- drugs. Soon after that she discovered the only way to either get or pay for the drugs- hooking.

Some of the girls she knew took her to the “Juke Box” one night. The owner there kept the local slags around because it was good for business. He’d supply even the underage girls with free liqueur in exchange for private peep shows in the back room that he could jerk off to. He never slept with any of them. Why would he? He saw the men they came and went with. He usually heard the stories.

The bar became the most notorious bar in the city for picking up young prostitutes. It became a home to the girls. Ladacee learned almost every trick of the trade from the girls at the “Juke Box.” She built a thick skin and learned how to handle a trick. Her dependancy on various drugs grew as she experimented in the back of the bar. She often traded sex with drug dealers and dirty cops in exchange for her fix. Many of the other girls were jealous of Ladacee’s natural beauty. She attracted most of the tricks that came to the bar sober.

Now, here he was, entering the "Juke Box". It was research he told himself. "Know thy enemy,” he kept repeating. But, once again his cock stirred in his trousers. He pulled down his suit jacket and found himself an isolated bar stool. Soon his eyes became accustomed to the dingy lighting and the haze of cigarette smoke. It was easy to spot the "working girls." Their attire and their brazen attitude identified them immediately. He was outraged with their overt flaunting of sexuality. Below the surface and conscious mind the embers of his lusting nature glowed relentlessly. Then, he noticed a captivating creature slinking across the floor. She wore a tight satin skirt with a revealing slit up the side. The garment extended only far enough to cover her crotch and he ogled her shapely legs and tried despite himself to catch a glimpse of her panties as she walked. She wore a scoop necked top which displayed the upper half of her glorious breasts. He saw her only in silhouette but he was smitten. In the dim and colored lighting he saw only that she had light hair but the color was a mystery.

She approached a table occupied by two men and rested her elbows on the surface. She bent over deeply in doing this and he beheld a spectacular behind which rolled enticingly as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. He was seated directly behind her at the bar. He could see a delicious wedge of material between her legs, an erotic pouch of lace stretched across her most intimate opening. He imagined the explicit view the gentlemen must be enjoying of her exposed breasts. David's cock rose hard and erect against his lower abdomen. "How lewd. How obscene. His mouthed the words to himself without making a sound. He was sweating visibly. He licked his lips and stared....

It was a Thursday night and that meant one thing to Ladacee and the girls: married men. They usually came in with old bowling shirts on or carrying briefcases; a faccade that meant they'd told their wives they were with the guys or working late. It was one of the easiest nights for the girls too because they were usually just looking for a hand job or a quick fuck.

Ladacee had just left the men's room, a 30-something-year-old with male pattern baldness and a beer belly following her with a grin plasterd across his weathered face. Her heals clicked against the concrete floor and she swung her hips through the thick cigerette smoke over to a table where another girl was sitting, puffing a cigerette. She took the smoke from between her dragon-nailed fingers and took a long drag off of it and saying, "I fucking hate when their cum is bitter."

She threw her long blonde hair over her naked shoulder and leaned on her elbows, completely aware she was showing off her Little-Bow-Peep panties. These were a favorite among the Thursdayers-gave them a sense of fucking their babysitters or neices. Tugging at her tub top she took one last drag off the cigerette before her friend nodded in the direction of a man apparently checking her out from behind. Ladacee wasn't really ready to turn another trick so soon... she'd really wanted to have a drink and let her ass cool down but if she didn't take this oppurtunity another girl would.

Standing erect she turned and walked almost catwalkish over to the man. What a poor sap. He wore a dark gray suit and held a bottle of beer in his one hand. He was looking at her in a dreamy way - almost like a deer in the headlights. Being accustomed to men who were taken back not only by her youth and beauty but by the idea of being able to pay her for sex she liked to play with their minds a bit.

As soon as she reached the table where he was sitting she slid into his lap, immediatley feeling the stiffness of his manhood. Damn, it's not going to take him long..., thought Ladacee. Someone came here with a loaded gun!

She held a giggle in her chest and used one hand to loosen his tie and the other to pick up his beer. "I saw you lookin' at me, mister." She said, playfully. She brought the brown bottle up to her ripe lips and blew on it making it whistle. She looked down at the bottle revealing thick black eyeliner and fake eyelashes. Fluttering her eyes back up she caught his eye and held it. She let go of his tie and let her finger drift down the front of his shirt, landing in his lap. She did nothing more but let her hand rest there against the warmth of his groin.

"You seem happy to see me. Do I know you somewhere?" She played innocent. That's what he wanted. She could see it in his fear. She loved it.

 

[pen_an_dink]

The hypnotic girl then slid across the room to his barstool. She sat on his lap without saying a word and his obvious arousal caused her to smile and wriggle her luscious ass against his cock. She spoke, he knew that, but could not have told anyone what she said. She had run her finger down his shirtfront and rested her hand in his lap; directly on his throbbing prick. She whispered out another question. He saw her lips move. He pictured his cock pushing those lips open and imagined her pale cheeks hollowing as she sucked on his dick. He swallowed and croaked out.

“There is a beige Cadillac in the lot across the street. I am going to leave now and wait for you there. It is directly under the streetlight. She tweaked the head of his cock in affirmation and he stood, standing her back on her feet. He adjusted his suit jacket, to hide the tenting in his trousers. He flipped a ten on the counter to cover the beer and hurried out the door.

Once alone and in his car, he thought of peeling out of there. The sight of her pantied crotch, the lingering scent of her cheap perfume, the feel of her soft hand on his cock were strong enough impressions to hold him frozen in place, however. Then, he saw her framed in the door of “The Juke Box”. His cock once again rose to full length. He reached down and straightened it in his underwear. He would give her a good lecture on the evils of prostitution and a wasted life. He lied to himself. Even he was aware that it was a lie as he watched her heading to the car then eyed her reaching for the handle.

“There will be no talk of money.” Were the first words out of his mouth. “You will write a sum down on a piece of paper when we are done and I will pay without question. No talk of money, no list of services and prices. You understand that or we just stop here.” She looked at him and appraised the car, the situation, his suit. She took a chance and agreed. She had always been shrewd at appraisal.

David could not have stopped now if he wanted. He was in a furnace of lust. “We are gonna get a room,” he announced and drove out of the parking lot. He was emboldened by desire and reached across the console and spread her legs. “Sit like that.” He demanded. As he drove the four blocks to the Pine Ridge motel he kept stealing glimpses of her exposed crotch and groaning deeply in his throat. "I want to keep those panties," he whispered. She surprised him by slipping them off and over her high heels right then and there. She held them up to his face washing his nose and mouth with them, then she tucked them into his breast pocket like a hankie. She chuckled through the entire incident.

She made no attempt to close her legs but rather left her skirt hiked up over her tantalizing ass and her shaved pussy greeted his stare whenever he could take his eyes off the road.

He went in alone to book the room and she waited in the Caddy. When he returned to the car, she had one leg up on the dash and seductively stroked the stick shift, arousing him to near climax. There was that fucking smile again.

Once in the room He bent her over the bureau in the same position he remembered her assuming in the bar. He unzipped his pounding cock and fucked her hard and fast, like a rabbit. His thumbs both worked their way into her ass stretching it and penetrating her. She pumped and encouraged him to fuck, and give it to her, and cum baby, cum. He then pawed and pulled on her swinging breasts. He was sweating and pumping in a crazed fashion. He felt his nuts were ready to boil over and she reached back and massaged them for him... perfectly adept at bringing about an orgasm. She spoke an ongoing string of filthy language which goaded him to ram his dick, faster and harder up her sucking cunt.

Then he began to spasm. Deep gut wrenching spasms as his cock exploded in her lovely cunt. He kept pounding and she kept encouraging till he fell off her and collapsed on the bed behind him. After he regained his wits and his senses, he sat up on the bed. “That was disgusting.” He straightened himself out as quickly as he could and hustled her back to the car. “You are wasting a precious human life in the filthy act of prostitution. You live off the weakness and corruption of man’s basest desires. You are an abomination.” On and on he went all through the drive back to the bar. All through the payment process which they had arranged. “You deserve the hell you will undoubtedly live through were his parting words to her.”

He chastised and preached to himself repeatedly on the drive home. He hated what he had done. He tried to tell himself that he needed the experience to talk realistically about the situation but he did not fool himself. He made the never again promise over and over.

Then at two in the morning he found himself jerking off into her panties. And, at ten o’clock the next night. He was pulling into the parking lot across from “The Juke Box.”

 

[Ladacee]

“There is a beige Cadillac in the lot across the street. I am going to leave now and wait for you there. It is directly under the streetlight” the man said. His face was serious and Ladacee felt her brow ruffle. Despite the bulge beneath her lap it was clear to Ladacee that this man had no respect for her. She sat there in thought for a moment, scanning his porous face for a hint of violence but all she could see were wrinkles caused by smoking. For a minute she thought she had seen his face on a billboard somewhere. He certainly did look familiar but he wasn’t from her part of town... That’s for damn sure!

She jumped from his lap abruptly and watched him finger his billfold numbly as if he were about to pay for an ice cream. She almost said “You don’t have to pay me now...” but then she saw him smack a ten down next to the half full beer. His facial expression was flaccid and emotionless. She stood erect and watched him walk straight through the bar, fling the door open with a air of disgust and exit.

Unaware that the girl from the nearest table was standing centimeters behind her, Ladacee gave a startled jump when she said, “Shit, you can tell that man needs some ass.” Ladacee let out the air she’d been holding in her diaphragm since the moment the man spoke to her. Turning slightly to the African American hooker she said, “I dunno what he needs. Sounds like he wants a submissive little slut but... it’s just... he looks so familiar,” she said in an airy tone. The girl behind her raised her shoulders and then spotted a man looking at her. “Hey Suga...” she said, turning and swaying his way.
The atmosphere outside the bar was a much different one. The streetlight above her was buzzing and spilling gallons of yellow light into the street. Beyond the area that the streetlight illuminated there was not much light at all. Then she saw the headlights of the beige car flick of and reflect off of the brick building it faced. Ladacee heard a few drunk men down the street yell catcalls as her 6-inch stilettoes clicked across the cracked concrete.

When she got to the car her stomach did a flop. He was sitting in the car with his seatbelt already on and his pants rumpled over his groin. Tugging at the metal handle she let herself in and slid onto the leather seat. When she sat the material of her skirt didn’t cover her ass entirely. She looked over at him and crossed her pail extended legs. “There will be no talk of money. You will write a sum down on a piece of paper when we are done and I will pay without question. No talk of money, no list of services and prices. You understand that or we just stop here.” Ladacee looked at him ready to protest. Unlike most girls she liked the cash between her teeth while she bent over for men. It gave her a since of motivation, if you will. Her full lips parted slightly, ready to object, but then she took a look around. He clearly had the money and he looked like a no-nonsense sort of businessman. Against her best wishes she closed her mouth and nodded in agreement. She was going to milk this asshole for all he’s got.

Ladacee glanced out the window and watched the streetlights pass by. She saw other hookers girating their hips in the direction of the drunk men stumbling down the sidewalk. Ladacee noticed that he wasn’t playing any music and the car was silent. “We are gonna get a room,” he said without looking at her. Ladacee jerked her head from the view out the window and looked at him. Still staring at him he finally glanced over with a blank face. His eyes traveled down to her crossed legs. The stiletto platforms she wore made her thin white legs look much lengthier than they were. Without warning the man wedged his hand between her thighs and forced them apart. “Sit like that,” he demanded, forcing an open space between her thighs and revealing the white cotton Little-Bow-Peep panties tight against her crotch.

"I want to keep those panties," he in an erotic whisper and returned his eyes to the road. They were pulling into the parking lot of a crumbling motel called Pine Ridge. Deciding not to test the man who already seemed domineering she decided when he said something he probably meant now. Picking her exposed ass up off the leather seat she used her thumbs to pull down the tiny panties. Playfully she held them up to his face, exposing the crusty white stains left over from a previous evenings fuck inside the cotton crotch, letting him smell the cum that lingered there. She smiled at him seductively and she could see the bother spread across his face. Grabbing for the door release he shoved himself outside and went to book the room.

When she saw him nearing the door to the lobby Ladacee planted one heel on the dash of the car, fully exposing her tiny bald pussy. She reached for the gear shifter and began stroking it in a way to suggest a phallus. She smiled evily and he nearly glared at her but she saw that his dick had grown harder than ever.

She’d been to Pine Ridge several times before. It was a cheap motel and a favorite of men who really didn’t want to be seen with a prostitute. The carpet was green and shaggy and the bed looked stiff. She stepped into the room and started to look around. When she turned he was standing there, staring at her in a daze with his long hard cock in hand. Ladacee gave a smirk but was interrupted when he stepped behind her pushed her over the bureau. She could feel his rough, cold knuckles between the upper-most part of her inner thigh as he fished around holding the head of his dick, looking for her opening. As soon as he had reached the destination he pushed it into her pussy with force. Ladacee’s unprepaired pussy constrained against the pressure of the foreign limb and she threw her head down, gritting her teeth. Men had fucked her like this before... but never with suck aggression. It was almost as if he was driven by a hate the way he slammed his thick member in and out of her womanhood. She tried to spread her legs as far as possible, feeling unstable in the high heals. She arched her back and grunted and gasped in exertion to endure the fuck.

Deciding that getting this fuck over as soon as possible was the best idea. She some effort she thrashed her pelvis with the movements of his thrusts and began to moan meticulously. As she began to show “pleasure” he became very excited and she felt him force his thumb in her ass. “Oaaauuuoooo...” she moaned, mostly in pain. Withdrawing his digit from her he used both hands to yank down her top. Two massive breasts burst out and flopped against her chest as he thrusted deeper inside her. Gropingly he fondled her flapping tits with little care and she felt him loose energy. He’s about to fucking cum... a smile mixed with the look of grunt agony that had spread across her face. Using one hand she reached beneath her own legs and began massaging his balls.

“Oh, cum for me daddy... Come on, I thought you were going to fuck me?” she shouted viciously at the mirror that faced her. She could see him, thrusting from behind, his face looking towards the heavens, an expression of sheer bliss exploding across it. He rammed his dick into her from behind in fewer strides but with much more force. “Ughhhh, fuck! You like that fucking dirty pussy, baby? You fuckin’ that pussy now? Come on, I said FUCK ME!”

She felt his hands find her hips and he held onto her for support, his fingers digging into her pale flesh. “Ugh...uggghhhhh....” she saw his face screw up as he started to climax. “Mmmmmm...” he pounded into her fast and she felt his hot spray against her cunt. Finally... He pulled his throbbing cock from her abused pussy and fell to the bed. Ladacee remained in position, feeling the thick cum oozing from her crevice.

Ladacee straightened her back and felt it pop a few times. Grabbing a few tissues from her bag she began to wipe away the white goo from her thighs. “That was disgusting,” she heard him say from behind her. Ladacee stopped for a moment and chose not to react. She’d become numb to such comments and she knew it was just his conscience and own disparity getting to him.

When the started driving he was silent for awhile as if in heavy thought. Ladacee looked out the window again as they retraced the reverse route back to the “Juke Box.” Then like a knife he cut the silence with a slew of dominations. He chastised her for her chosen profession and told her everything she’d already knew. She saw the panties she’d removed sitting on the space between them. She remember his unmerciful, determined fuck.

Whatever, mister. You’re the one who came looking for a payed lay.


And he did pay her. Much more than she usually charged. She shoved the wad of bills between her moist breasts and he didn’t say anything more.

Without parking he pulled in illegally directly in front of bar. She had barely stepped out of the Caddy when he slammed on the gas and squealed out of sight. Ladacee’s friend leaned against the brick outside of the bar, drunk and sucking on a cigarette butt.

“So...?” She said without much enthusiasm.

“I think he might have been a preacher. He was some asshole, I’ll give him that.” She said and walked straight back into the bar for a stiff drink.

 

[pen_an_dink]

Filled with self-loathing David once again entered the darkened atmosphere of "The Juke Box". She was not here. He looked from table to table and was somehow relieved when he could not find her. He'd finish his Bud then go straight home. She was a filthy whore and nothing more he argued with himself; a disgusting piece of meat for sale to any reprobate who chose to abuse her. He tipped the glass fully and drained it. As he placed it on the bar, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see her standing behind him, her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. She spoke but he was too occupied, staring at the drunken stranger who had staggered in with her. Three equally inebriated slobs at the far end of the room. Whistled and catcalled to the man. " How was it stud?"..." Did you put the blocks to her?" ... "Can she still walk, hot shot?"... They slapped the table and called out for more beer. They were ignored by everyone but themselves.

"Same parking spot." David barked gruffly at her as he brushed by. He sat in the Caddy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. She was maddeningly dressed in a more provocative manner than yesterday. That he did notice. She wore a tube top fit for a child and a micro sequined skirt that appeared to be sprayed on. That he did notice. When she slid into the leather passenger seat beside him he heard the flesh of her thighs against the material. He looked at her and was angry. Angry at the lust she stirred in him. Angry at the way she looked. Angry that she had just been with a big fat drunken slob. He waited and she did not know what he wanted.

"Well, open them up. You know I like to look at your filthy cunt when I drive." He scolded. "And, yes, I want those." He prodded a finger into her crotch indicating the undies. This time he took the panties in his hand as she held them at him between her thumb and forefinger. She seemed amused rather than intimidated...smug rather than cowed. He held her panties to his own face this time and stared into her eyes as he did so. Then he reached over and flipped down her tube top. She leaned back against the door. Her legs spread and her tits openly displayed. She taunted him with her eyes. Soon they pulled into the Pine Ridge and he paid for the room. As he left the car he snapped. "You just fucking stay like that. Cunt."

He was out faster this evening and quickly jockeyed the car in front of the rented room. Once in the room he was in the same hurried and frenetic state as the night before. He stood with his legs apart and his hands on his hips. "Strip then suck my cock." He demanded. "Hurry for fuck sake"

She had merely to slip out of the wisp of a skirt and the slinky tube top and then he forced her to her knees. "Suck it. Yea suck it you fucking whore. How many other cocks have you sucked today? Huh? Rub my nuts like yesterday. Oh fuck yes. Fucking cunt. Suck that cock. Uh..uh..uh..uh," violently he pumped his hips into her face and took her hair in his hands. He was literally fucking her face. He was close to cumming. She felt his prick stiffen and his stomach tighten.

Suddenly, he reached his hands down to under her armpits and lifted her off the floor and flung her back onto the bed. He fell to his own knees and to her surprise he spread her legs and buried his face in her shaved pussy. He began to slurp and lick, kiss and suck. He emitted deep growling animal noises in his throat as he devoured he clit then buried his tongue deep in her cunt. He gnawed at her and pumped his stiff cock into the edge of the mattress. After five minutes of voracious eating he leapt up on the bed and over her chest. He took his engorged cock in his hand and his fist turned into a blur as he wanked himself over her face.

He threw his head back and roared as jets of cum fired out of his cock. "You fucking pig... You fucking whore of a cocksucking pig. You cheap fucking cum drinking slut." He covered her face and hair with his cum then collapsed on top of her. He panted and wheezed for a few minutes. He was still dressed in his suit and knelt up and did up his fly. "Hurry up you cheap tart. I'll be waiting in the car."

When she got to the car he announced. "You wont be seeing me again. I'm fucking cured. That is why I tasted your disgusting juices. I have taken the cure." He laughed but it was hollow and meaningless. She looked at him knowingly.

He delivered the self same speech as the previous night. At "The Juke Box" he stopped long enough to pay her then sped away. He would ensure that this place was torn to the ground. He would have her arrested. He would never return. This time he was resolved. A solemn resolve that in fact lasted for three nights.

 

[Ladacee]

Clara sat nakedly on the cold toilet seat in the men’s room. Her thighs were spread widely apart and she allowed her lax breasts to fall to the sides of her chest as she slouched back against the cold metal flush. Her brazen nipples stood firm and were distinctively the color of plum.

A small red dress lay on the grimy tiled floor in a ball, a tangled g-string topped it. Clara wore nothing but black patent leather calf-high platform boots. The man before her was grunting and tugging on his stubby red cock. He had a massive beer belly and thick black hair covered a majority of his body. Clara had never seen such a small cock. She slouched there nakedly and allowed him to masturbate himself with squinted eyes.

“Oh yeah, cum for me, daddy,” Clara would moan half-heartedly. A silver string of smoke coiled from the cigarette clamped between her nimble fingers. Her arms hung at her sides and she pumped her hips, playing peek-a-boo with her pussy. She lifted her thin alabaster limb and sucked on the thin stump of cigarette, her cheeks caving in. The mans arms jiggled as he voraciously wanked himself and then began to hypervenalate.

“That’s right, baby. I wanna feel that cum,” without much effort Clara sat straight up and dropped the cigarette between her thighs. The cigarette hissed as it was extinguished by the toilet water and Clara used her two hands to smash her sizeable breasts together to catch his streams of cum. “Eeeee...” the man squealed as he collapse against the stall door, nearly breaking it down. His hot white load pooled in Clara’s cleavage. The man panted, red faced and mopped his head with the neck of his t-shirt. Using one hand Clara gripped her breasts in place and mopped up the cum with a wad of toilet paper.

“Well then, that’ll be twenty,” she sighed, glad the task was over. The man opened the stall door and went over to the sink to cool his face. Clara stood up, revealing her entire ivory figure. Her milky white skin was ruined only by a new-school bleeding heart on her left hip bone and the plum color of her pierced nipples. Her stomach sunk in compared to her heavy breasts and wipe hips and her pussy was so small it was barely visible without spreading her legs. Her platinum blonde curls framed her chin in a 1940's pin-curl style. The man balanced himself against the sink, still out of breath and watched as Clara stepped into her short devil-red strapless dress. She pulled it up over her hips and puckered her breasts; the dress left only the vivid details of her body to the imagination.

The man fished in her greasy pocket and slapped a twenty on the wet sink. Clara clicked over and sopped up the twenty, tucking it into her boot. “Later,” she said without emotion and the man simply nodded. She pushed her way out of the mens room and her lungs filled with stale smoke. She made an immense effort to sway her hips and still stay up on her 6-inch stilettoes. Everywhere she looked there were men drinking heavily, most of them with a girl in their lap. She scanned the tables but before she could pluck up her next trick she felt a cold hand on her thigh.

“Hey there, Missy,” said a man with dark tousled hair and a thin nosed. Slouching in his metal folding chair he was dressed like he would going to a club to meet “real girls.” He owned a very nasal voice and a five-o’clock shadow. Clara hated his hand on her thigh. Looking down at him she formed her lipstick stained lips into a wicked smile. The man responded immediately with what could only be described as a shit-eating-grin.

“I’ve heard about you, honey. Heard you’re a feisty one...” she sneered. Clara disliked his altissimo tone and the way he was so possessive. His two friends already had pussy sitting in their laps and they were chortling appropriately. Clara had reprimanded the new girls so many times about their behavior. Get in and get out was her motto. Clara decided it was time to show the little bimbos how it’s done. With a glare she lifted her heavy booted leg and strattled him, her extra-short dress riding up until it barely covered her ass. She could feel the bulging material of his jeans against her boney pussy.

“Your heard, did you? Well, I guess you’ll have to find out, wontcha?” Clara poised the open-ended question while hypnotizing him with her snake-like stare. Her eyes were ice blue and carefully lined with thick black eyeliner and butterfly-like artificial eyelashes. She was a devil woman. She was dangerous and she had attitude. She laced her fingers around his neck and held him there transfixed. She was a spider, waiting in her web. A black widow.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the girls mouth to the other, “Bitch.”

 

[pen_an_dink]

Brant loved to fuck whores. He like the absence of pick-up lines, the compliments, the phony fucking smiles, the lies which dominated his other relationships. Let’s face it when he went out with the guys he wanted to get fucked. He wanted to get fucked hard and fast and filthy. He calculated long ago that when he dated some fucking tight-assed princess who had any looks at all. It cost him a dinner, a movie, drinks, driving about, and God knows what else to get his cock up her pussy… a thousand bucks minimum, minimum. Then the bullshit that followed. Fuck it.

He had buddies who said they would never pay for sex and he laughed like hell at them. They should sit down and calculate it some day. “The only free sex was Pam. The pam of your hand he would tell them. He liked filthy sex. He liked hard, bitchy but pretty whores. Tonight he grabbed two old buddies Frank and Darcy for a fuck fest at “The Juke Box.” He had been there several times before and banged a couple of the cunts in the men’s room and one in his car but as he was leaving last time he saw this bitch with real attitude, mouthin’ off to one of the other tricks. He was on his way out, but leaned on the bar and asked the bartender. “Who’s that?” jerking a thumb at her.

“That’s good ole’ Clara stirring the shit again.” The bartender replied. Brant filed the name away. Just his type.

Tonight the three of them had been approached as soon as they sat down. Frank and Darcy had grabbed a pair of the trio who sashayed over to their table. “I’m waitin’ on someone honey.” Brant had told the third girl. A couple of other’s had come over to the table as they drank and Frank and Darcy fucked around with the others. He had asked Darcy’s little chippy. “Is Clara in tonight.”

“yea, she’s got some John in the john. She wont be long. He just likes to wank and look. A twenty dollar special” He nodded not paying too much attention. When she did come out he grabbed her leg, up high near her cunt as she passed by. She gave the other two girls at the table some attitude and he liked that. She plopped herself on his lap, skirt hiked up one leg on either side of him her pantied twat pressed against his dick. She was gonna show the new girls how to get a cock off and grab your money and move on.

Brad started making fuck motions with his hips. “How much to fuck my cock right here? … Right at this table…. How much to drain my nuts right fucking here, cunt? She kept grinding her cunt into his raging dick.

“No fucking way. He’ll kick us both outa here. And he wont let me back for a fucking week. Fuck you. That won’t bother you but it’s my business. No fucking way.” They were sitting in a circular booth. Brant and Clara were on the outside. He stood up and she was forced to bounce off his lap.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out 200 dollars in a wad of bills. He put them in the middle of the table. “ 200 bucks… if I get too noisy or give us away you take the 200 and fuck off. We’ll sit in the middle and you can just sit on my lap and fuck me. No one will know but the six of us. How about it, slut?”

She reached for the wrist of the nearest girl and pulled her out of the booth. Frank stepped out with her. Then she slid over the vinyl to the middle of the booth. She kept an eye on Tom the owner and bartender. She cursed at Brandt and in effect told him to get his cock in here.

He slid in to join her. She hiked up her skirt and slipped her panties to the side. She sat sideways on his lap. Brad spoke constantly to entertain Frank and Darcy and to get himself off.

“Well, take it out you fucking bitch. Oh yeah slip it in there. Nice twat. Fuck yeah.” They were undulating together and the others at the table were listening intently. The guys were sweating and licking their lips and their ladies hands were in the boy’s laps.

Clara urged him on matching comment for comment.

“Milk it baby, oh yes use those muscles.” On and on he went. She reached down between her legs and began fondling his balls and the base of his cock. Her cunt felt tight, especially in this position. He was amazed at the muscular control she possessed. She taunted him verbally and felt him rising to a climax. He vowed to himself that he would get her into a bed soon and see what other little tricks she possessed. He tried to hold back from losing his load. He wanted to show the others his staying power. But, she was too good. Her warm pussy washed over his dick with wave after sucking wave of pleasure. “God she can fuck” he thought. He felt himself tightening with tension then she held onto his nuts just so and he exploded inside her. “Oh fuck…yes…he moaned and she smiled at him in triumph. The other girls were notably impressed as she sat on his dick milking the last of his sperm and at the same time scooped up the money on the table.

 

[Ladacee]

This trick is fucking crazy. Clara looked at the wad of bills in his hand. That was a lot of fucking money compared to the $20 wank she just did in the men's room.

Hmm... I guess I'm really going to show these bitches how it's done. Clara glanced over in the direction of the bar as the bloke uunzipped his pants and pulled his cock between the fabric of his boxer briefs. With two fingers she pushed her g-string to the side and shoved his cock up inside of her while sitting on his lap "side saddle". She felt him let out a low moan and place his hand on her lower back. Clara had to do little more but sit there while he bumbed his cock up and down within her. He was looking at his lap almost amazed that he was inside her. She used one hand to finger his balls.

His two friends found the entire situation halarious but Clara knew their whores were pissed. They knew the that after that night they'd go home and wouldn't remember them but the bitch who fucked their friend right at the table. Then when they returned they'd ask for Clara... just like it always happened.

"You like that?" Clara asked in a low tone. She turned to his friend and looked at him, just to taunt his girl.

"I'm being fucked right now. You wanna fuck me too?" She said with a sort of invented southern drawl. She saw the look of angry flash across the face of the brunette slut rubbing his cock beneath his pant. The guy laughed nervousley but Clara knew she was making him hard. The entire time she could feel his thick cock moving inside her. "Milk it baby..." he had been saying.

Oh, fuck yeah. I'm milking it for all it's worth.

"Oh shit," said the man. Clara wasn't sure if he was able to control himself anymore. His face screwed up as if he'd just tasted something sour. He squeezed his eyes closed and Clara got worried. Just fucking cum and don't make a scene. He put a hand on her lap and then with both hands he held her body tight onto his while he wiggles faster. Everyone else at the table cheered him on; even the sluts played up to their little game. Taking deep quick breaths he let out a long his and then exclaimed to the rest of the table, "Oh, fuck yes..." The entire time she scanned the bar, praying no one would make notice. But someone had.

An unshaven man sat at a table alone drinking a beer. He was looking right at Clara lustfully. Playing her game her let out a fake moan and smiled at the man evily. She was sure her current trick had no idea she was paying no attention to his throbbing cock with her.

Clara slipped his cock out of her and pushed her panties back.

"If your looking for more later, I'll be around." Clara took the money and slid out of the booth. When she was out in the open she readjusted the bottom of her dress and then bent over, exposing her ass to his friends. Still giving the other man all her attention she used a hand to scoop at her breasts so that they'd perk up. She shoved the cash into the booth and then clicked over to the end of the booths, hiding behind the last wall. The man watched her the entire time.

Clara stopped and cocked her hip to the side, leaning on it. Locking eye contact with the man she used one finger with a black nail to summon him. He pointed to his own chest looking shocked. Clara nodded, her eyes looking hazy. She watched as he nervousley picked up his beer and walked over to him, looking around.

 

[pen_an_dink]

Wilson was shy, agonizingly so. Shyness and sex drive however have no correlation. He worked downtown for the vast Harvest insurance company in their IT department. Wilson was a wiz at analyzing and quickly correcting the thousands of little glitches that arose weekly with the firms various PC’s. He was terrible on the “help desk” where he had to talk a person through a logical progression of steps but was a master at the keyboard, communicating with the computer directly. Bill Hendy, the head of IT would often call: “Okay, enough of the doctors, time to send in the surgeon.” - after another technician had failed to resolve a glitch.

He would meet and work with a wealth of women and young ladies on the job. Often checking wiring and catching upskirt glimpses as he did so. He would come home and imagine scenarios whereby, one of the gorgeous asses would turn on him and ravenously demand sex right there or in the washroom. He would wank a few times each night to these fantasies. He was always taken by the women. They would be lead through furious sexual adventures and controlled by them.

His porn collection was a study in passive males being devoured by an assertive nymphomaniac. His fantasy never varied and plagued him constantly.

He was famous at work for his genius with the computer, and for his reticence to speak. Many, of the girls took to teasing him, all innocently enough and for the amusement of their friends but they never failed to ignite Wilson’s lust. He would often have to relieve himself in the cubicles at work. The bevy of tightly bound asses and exposed cleavage sent his head whirling.

One afternoon at lunchtime, he was reading a manual and drinking his soup and three of the young guys were bragging and carrying on. One of them mentioned getting one hell of a blowjob at “The Juke Box”. Wilson pretended not to hear but looked the place up at home that night and entered the name into many of his wanking fantasies that week. He imagined surrendering to an aggressive deviant prostitute who would bring him to a thundering orgasm, as she handled and fucked him and spoke all manner of filth. The fantasy grew so powerfully that he found himself sitting at the bar in “The Juke Box.” Having a beer and too shy to talk, ask, even move.

In the booth directly in front of him however he noticed three men each with obvious hookers accompanying them. The girl in the middle, the more striking of the three girls was actually fucking the man as she sat on his lap. It was clear what she was doing and she spoke aggressively to the rest of the company as she screwed the man. Wilson’s heart stopped for a moment. Her control of the table, her unadulterated sexuality, her lewd mouth, fulfilled his every dark desire. He would be happy just to go home after his beer and wank to dreams of her for a week. When she left the table she sauntered over to the bar opposite him and to his amazement she crooked a finger at him and gave him a “come hither look.”

Cautiously Wilson picked up his beer and approached the girl thinking all the time. ' I don't know what to do, or say, or how to ask.' He was working himself into a state....

 

[Ladacee]

The man was ghost white by the time he made it over to Clara. He stood at a distance as if he would catch some terrible disease just by sharing the same air as her. Clara rolled her eyes and shot out her pale arm, clasping his hand. It was clammy and smooth. Apparently he worked at a desk job. Most of the men to frequent the bar were blue collar workers with callaused palms. The man looked sick as soon as she touched him.

Oh, God. What the hell is wrong with this bloke? Clara started to wonder if maybe he'd stumbled into the "Juke Box" unaware of the type of services they offered. The idea in itself made a smirk curl up and rest on Clara's face. She loved it when men seemed scared of her. She often wondered why it was always the shy ones who chose her; she was by far the most flamboiant of all the working girls.

Clara leaned in closer to the man, letting her hot breath linger on his ear. "You do want to fuck me, don't you?" she said in her raspy harsh voice. Pulling her head away to set up her vixen stare she saw the man loose all color in his face, as if there were any in it in the first place. The man gulped and then looked from side to side.

"Don't worry, stud, I've fucked almost half the guys in here at some time... and if I haven't fucked them they've watched me fuck someone else. Your not fooling anyone." Clara snickered and then turned, dragging the man.

Using the sole of her tremendous platformed boot she kicked in the green chipped door with the international symbol for 'men'. As soon as the two entered (the man being toted by Clara) they could here the grunting of a man in the handicap stall. You could see the stems of yellow stilletoes and the bottom half of a mans legs. His feet shifted every-so-often and and he started to grunt louder, eventually turning into a deep wail.

"Fuck, babe. Awwww shit...." The man was moaning in climax. Clara rolled her eyes and used a fist to bang on the aluminum door. The loud rattling of the nimble door filled the room and made the man jump.

"Could you hurry the FUCK up in there?!" Clara exclaimed with a tone that was clearly pissed off.

"Fuck, could you give me a minute, eh?" Replied a girl with a thick Boston accent. "I gotta fuckin' cock in my ass.... Jesus."

Clara let out a "Phhhsh" and turned to the cracked bathroom mirror to smudge her eyeliner a bit and reframe a few curls. After the sound of the toilet fush and a man's zipper a girl named Tesha flung open the stall.

"You know your not 'posed to fuck on the rag, right Clara?" The girl spit while stomping out of the bathroom, shoving a wad of bills into her cleavage. A large black man looked embarassed as he tried not to make eye contact with Clara's trick.

"Shall we?" Clara said pesimistically and looking at the man. She could tell the man was trying to pretend he wasn't in the situation he'd just put himself in. He followed her and stood there, unmoving. Clara paused for a minute and looked at the man standing in front of the open door. He looked like he was about to be sick.

Cocking a hand on her hip and making her eyes wide she said with attitude, "Do you want to be watched?"

The man looked around, apparently wondering if there was a camera or someone else in the room. He looked confused and shook his head. Clara's face smoothed and became calm and sweet. Then, without much warning she said, "Then shut the goddamn door."

The man was quick to follow order and when he turned back around Clara was slipping off her dress. The devil-red dress was simply a polyester tube that barely covered all the necessary areas. She didn't have massive breasts, but they were not small. As she pushed it down she revealed two perfect claw-fulls of breast with purplish nipples with black barbells through them. Her stomach which was a pale basin, perfect for catching cum, and a smallish little pussy that was barely visible with closed legs. A colorful tattoo of a bleeding heart marked her pronounced hip bone.

The man was frozen, practically pinned against the stall door. This is too much fun. Clara smirked and walked over to him, wearing nothing but her patent leather boots. She smiled and looked seductively into the mans eyes. She held his gaze, although his eyes fought it, and used her thin fingers to undo his belt. She let his pants fall around his ankles and then she got on her knees and pulled down his underwear at the same time.

Clara was kind of surprised to see that this man had a long dick. It was slightly on the thin side and curved up, but he had some length! Using her curved palm she rubbed his dick giving him a half-hearted hand job. Then she slid her O-shaped red lips onto his flesh. She immediatley produced saliva to lubricate him and she started to deep throat him the best she could.

Clara knew she was a natural at sucking cock but he was a little too long her her. Using both her hand and lips she began giving him vigorous head while looking up at him. He was looking down at her but the rest of his body was stiff. Sucking it hard she pulled her lips off of his cock and then stood to face him. She brought his hand up and placed it on her breast and looked in his eyes suductivley.

"Your not cooperating like I'd like you too. So now you need to tell me what you want to do to me."

Clara used her own hand to force him to massage her peirced breast. She kept her raised eyes on his, and spoke to him like a child. She knew she would have to open him up or they'd be in the stall forever.