Ah, there he came, a black van. “I’m coming with my bus, so we’ll have enough space,” my client had written. I was looking forward to it—it promised an evening without contorted maneuvers.
When he stopped close to me, the large sliding door opened automatically and gave way to a large level space. The floor was covered by an inflated mattress and a large bath sheet, very inviting! Very convenient for the extended exercises in lust we had agreed upon—two hours flat rate, as often as my client could, for two-hundred-and-fifty Euro, blowjob and assfuck included. That was okay, as I didn’t trust myself to come each time for two hours.
“You can start undressing,” he demanded, “and show yourself in the mirror.”
Well, why not? I sat down cross-legged and pulled up my pullover while he drove us to the deserted side road.
“Very niice,” he commented my bare tits.
I rolled on my back and kicked my sneakers away. Next, I rolled the first sock down and wiggled my toes in the mirror. He laughed. The second sock followed, and then I only had to remove the skirt. Meanwhile, he shut the engine down.
Swiftly, he climbed to the back between the seats. Oh, you’re pushing it. He wore a decent pullover, but underneath only light shorts with open front, with his lance poking out.
“Show me first,” he advised me and pointed at my crotch. Obediently, I leaned back and spread my legs. Without much gentleness he began to touch my intimate zone. “You like that,” he assumed—sadly not entirely true. This way it wasn’t much fun for me.
“Waaait!” I stopped him, when he was about to throw himself on me and into me. “Always with rubber!”
“Yes, well.” Without much conviction, he applied the condom that I handed him. Then he approached me again and performed a brief fuck that didn’t give me anything. When he was done, he pulled out, reclined on his back and commanded, “So, now suck my cock.”
It’s just sex, I told myself once again. Why, of all possible clients, had I had to schedule an extended number with such a jackoff? I spontaneously decided to offer the flat rate only to known clients. Then I gave in to the inevitable, removed his rubber, and began to suck his gooey cock.
The inexperienced schoolgirl role didn’t work here, I soon realized. This guy wouldn’t tell me how he liked it most, he simply let himself be served. So I had to apply all my experience and use all the tricks I already knew. Those weren’t many, but I could arouse him once again and then make him come.
With this guy, I didn’t want to swallow. The larger share of his load went into my face, the rest landed on my neck and my tits. “Oh, you can offer a lot,” I praised him, whispering. “Come, there’s more!”
“Make me hot. Show off.”
As well. I stretched myself and shook my apples. His lecherous grind showed me that I was on the right path. Only his cock wasn’t convinced yet. So I kneeled over him with my spread legs and began to help myself. If he didn’t care for my fun…
As soon as I saw his cock stir, I took it into my hand.
“Be a hard guy. I need your stiff bone.”
It sufficed to unroll a condom. Then I sat down on him and began a fast ride. I was finally horny and wanted my climax—soon, before he could come without me again. But just that made him hot, too, and he came right after me, when I cried out my lust.
“Hot,” he judged.
We both knew that he needed another rest. No, not he—his cock needed the rest. His hands wanted to reach for my tits and my crotch now. Okay, touching was part of the deal, but his hands still felt uncomfortable to me. For him, I was the cheap whore, not, as with my other clients, the young woman who wanted to give them pleasure.
So his next idea didn’t surprise me. “Get on all fours.”
That’s what I did—after I had applied the next rubber. Moreover, I gave him a tube of lube. “Here—else you won’t get in. It’s extremely tight.”
He first tried without anyway. If he’d been really hard, it would have been a real pain for me—this way it was rather unpleasant for him more than for me. With the lube, it worked then.
I couldn’t say that an assfuck really pleased me—with the right, considerate client it could be arousing and entice me to rub my clit—but it was an option when I wasn’t ready again yet and my client still was under pressure. Or when he meant he’d have to make the most of his time.
He had the stamina, as it felt like half an hour until he finally came. Of course, I couldn’t simply endure the time—showing the highest excitement and lust was part of the show, so I had to moan a lot.
Finally it was over, and he let me go. Oh damn, the next half hour I wouldn’t be able to sit! What was the time? Three minutes exceeded—okay. I smiled at my client and grabbed my socks and my handbag. “I hope you liked it. My fee, please.”
I didn’t like his mean grin at all. He simply let the door slide open and commanded, “Get out.”
“Pardon?” I still didn’t understand.
He took my pullover, the skirt and the sneakers and tossed them on the road. “Out,” he repeated. Then he pulled at my arm and pushed me through the door.
That maneuver could have painfully hurt my knees, but I already had learned to fall in my martial arts course. I rolled over my shoulder—which still was unpleasant enough—and watched the sliding door close.
Through a veil of tears I watched him climb forward, start the engine and drive away. Damn Dragon poo! Two hours for nothing! Two-hundred-and-fifty, which I urgently needed for my courses, were simply gone.
It’s just sex, I prayed my mantra, but this evening it didn’t work. I felt used, abused, humiliated. Tainted. I found a paper tissue and wiped his dried sperm off my face and my chest, then I tried to clean myself between the legs before I quickly put on my clothes—after all I was standing naked in the open, and the nights damn soon became damn cold.
Chapter Eighteen
“What are you doing here?” a harsh female voice barked at me from behind. Oh crap! I hurried to pull up the second sock—and for this time without showing my bare pussy—and turned around. What was that? Red mini skirt, black fishnet stockings, a black lace corsage and a plush fur jacket, okay—that was more or less a colleague. But the face—thick skin cream tried in vain to cover the traces of aging, and lipstick and eye shadow created a garish mockery of make-up.
“I’m changing,” I tried to interpret my situation. At least I had managed to stop my tears.
“Don’t try to fool me. You’ve just worked the streets, I can smell it.”
“Okay. Yes, I had sex. But I didn’t work.”
The whore assumed a threatening stance right in front of me. I didn’t have enough room to stoop and put on my sneakers, so I stepped back.
“I said, don’t fool me. You had a john. Don’t tell me about a friend—he wouldn’t throw you out naked and then drive away. And decent young girls don’t run around with a mini and crotch-free. You’re hooking.”
“Yes, okay. But that didn’t work out.” Left shoe.
“What didn’t work out? He came, I can smell it. So everything worked that had to work.”
“He didn’t pay.” Right shoe. Finally I was completely dressed again. Now I felt ready to face the confrontation.
The whore grabbed my chin and pulled it up. She had an astonishingly firm grip, it really hurt. “Didn’t pay? You’re poaching in my district and for free? Did you lose your mind or what?”
“He cheated on me,” I protested.
“After shooting? Are you too stupid to demand advance pay? Do you want to spoil the price for us all?”
She tightened the grip on my chin and reached out with her free left hand.
No!
I blocked her blow with my right, beat her arm with my left, so that she had to let me go, then I dashed past her and ran away.
“Don’t show up here again!” she angrily yelled after me.
No, I surely didn’t plan to do that. Just the opposite—I’d avoid this district like th
e plague, if only not to have to remember this failure. First, I covered a decent distance between us running, then I reduced my speed to an easy trot toward the city.
Chapter Nineteen
At a bus stop, I sat down. What could I do now? I still urgently needed money. But I couldn’t schedule a new appointment so quickly—the half-anonymous acquisition via Internet took time. Moreover, I still carried all traces of my mission.
Crap. It was obvious that such had to happen to a loser sooner or later.
“Ey, gal.”
I looked up. An old-fashioned hip-hopper had stepped in front of me. Baggy pants, bomber jacket, gold necklace, woolen cap—and underneath he probably already lost his hair. He made a friendly face, winked at me and grabbed his crotch. “Would you like?”
“Why do you think so?” I asked cautiously.
“Ey, sorry, don’t wanna bug you.”
Did you treat a prospective client like this? Bad for business. I couldn’t afford to be picky. “Nah, it’s okay. What if I’d like? What about you?”
“I’m in the mood.”
Okay. I gave him a smile. “Would you like it quick and dirty?” His smile widened. “Would you like a wet, tight pussy that’s still creamy from the last fuck? Do you like tits that are still covered by a stranger’s cum?”
Instead of an answer, he grabbed the bulge in his pants and adjusted the fabric, so that his covered erection clearly showed. This kind of pants simply offered a lot of room, and this guy needed a lot of room—man, that boner was long! “Ey, gal, are you ready for the ride of your life?”
I rose and touched the fabric covering his glans with one hand. “I can hardly wait,” I whispered. “I’ll take all you can give, once we’ve agreed on the terms.”
“Oookaaay—Oh!—what do you want?”
Damn—that guy would soon come, as heated up as he already was. “Fifty for a fuck. The same for a blowjob before. Advance pay.” I left my hand where it was.
“Agreed!” He dug in his pocket and produced two wrinkled notes. “Hundred. Where do we go?”
I took his money and looked around. Currently no cars were coming, and there were no pedestrians around. The bus stop was lit, but it could only be observed from the lane side. I grabbed his waistband. While I sat down again, I pulled him tight and opened his zipper. Then I swallowed his member and sucked. All that happened so fast that he couldn’t start to protest.
Instead, he came almost instantly—before I could pull back, he had already shot his load. Oh well. My hand held up his cock, and I showed him his sperm on my tongue before I licked my lips and visibly swallowed it all. Then I pulled at his boner, milked the remainders from his barrel and wiped it off at my cheek. The old-fashioned hip-hopper moaned.
“Now come with me,” I ordered, rose and pulled him at his cock after me. The shop windows of the next-but-one house on the road were dark, in front of it a van parked next to a trash bin. That was cover enough.
His member was still—or again—hard. I applied a rubber, then I stooped, pulled up my skirt and showed him my bare ass. With my free hand I pulled my pussy lips apart and mused how this big bone would feel.
It felt good, and most of all it felt large. Shit. Only just before I had let an absolute shithead reduce me to a piece of crap that you could use and then toss away, and now my self-esteem was so far down that I let myself be fucked for money on a public street. And while his hard cock pumped in me, I worried if his money sufficed to pay my courses. Probably it didn’t.
Nevertheless, I reached the climax. Yes, darn Dragon shit, I wanted to have my fun. It was just sex, but it was good sex. Dirty, wicked, raunchy sex. And I was a piece of crap, shit on it!
“Jo? What the heck are you doing?”
Chapter Twenty
I knew that voice all too well. The blonde Selina.
My john guessed trouble, quickly packed his toys and hurried away. I felt lucky that I only had to stand to appear decently dressed.
As if!
“What’s that on your cheek? Is that sperm?”
Yes, it is, but what should you care? I brushed my hand across, so that at least the larger drops were less clearly recognizable. “Aw, piss off.”
Selina crossed her arms before her chest. “No. First I want to know what’s going on here.”
“Nothing’s going on here.”
“Let’s talk straight. What I’ve seen looked like a straight doggie fuck. And that guy wasn’t your latest friend, otherwise he wouldn’t have disappeared so quickly. Either you’re a desperate nymphomaniac, or that was a client. And for the former your self control is too good. So you’re hooking. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
I couldn’t prove her logic wrong. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“If you say so. Then we’ll discuss that with Mr. Herbert tomorrow. I’d guess my parents wouldn’t want their daughter to share the same classroom with a whore. Except…”
“Except what?”
“What would my discretion be worth to you, purely hypothetically?”
This truly wasn’t my night. I watched Selina disapprovingly. “I simply can’t afford to buy your silence. But breaking your nose would be something I could manage, purely hypothetically.”
Shocked, she gasped for breath. Then she eyed me contemplatively—and walked away without a word. I watched her until she had disappeared around the next corner. Selina had been my enemy before, but now she had something to hold against me.
I simply couldn’t afford to quit now. I wanted to do these darn courses, so that I at least had something to present. My university-entrance diploma—in case I stayed until the end of the class—wouldn’t help me.
A pimped-up car stopped at the roadside. Inside I spotted two styled guys with a lot of jewelry. Clients? I assumed a pose. “Heyy, guys?”
“Ey, gal, for whom are you walking?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Oooh crap! Pimps!
The passenger already left the car. “Show me your license.”
License? I didn’t have one. The guy didn’t look like discussing the issue with him would be fruitful. Even less regarding the knife he just pulled out and let spring out.
Dragon piss! I had only one choice. I turned around and ran—against the driving direction.
“Hey!” I heard, then steps behind me. “Wait—I’ll—get—you!”
Have no breath? I do. I increased my speed and noticed the distance growing. I also heard the car turn with squealing tires. Not good—not good at all!
I found myself an open gateway. However this backyard ended, they couldn’t follow me by car. High walls, a trash container in the rear corner—one foot on the lid’s joint, up. My fingers at the wall’s crest, one pull, I was up. No hesitation, the guy had already reached the container. Down, out the opposite gateway, then diagonally across the street, into the next yard. Another wall, another pull-up, another street to cross.
I looked around. No trace of my pursuers. This just had gone so well. Now I only had to watch out that I didn’t cross their path again by stupid chance.
After all, I had trained in inconspicuous appearance. Only this way was the night over. No more business.
“Wherf you been?” my Mama welcomed me right after I had opened the apartment door. “Ann how doo you look lige? Lige a sheab whore!”
The half-emptied schnapps bottle in her left hand explained her unclear pronunciation. But since when could we afford schnapps? What did Papa say about that?
“I’ve been around,” I evaded the question.
However, as intoxicated as she was, she wasn’t dense. She quickly approached me, wrinkled her nose, pulled up my skirt—then she laughed out.
“Smells like a brothel, sprinkled all over, no panties, yees sure—my child is walking the streets.” Suddenly she appeared sober. “How long’s that been going on?”
I had no chance to reply.
“Doesn’t matter. Won’t let a whore into my house. If your father was s
till here, you’d be told. Gimme your key.”
“What?” If my father was still here—what did that mean? Caught by surprise and without thinking, I handed her my bunch of keys. She took the numbered apartment-and-house-key and fumbled at the bunch.
“Where is Papa?” I asked.
“Ran away. Don’t ask, he’s gone with some bitch.” Mama stared at me angrily and tossed me the bunch back. In a reflex, I caught it. “Dere’s no place for a bitch in dis house. Pack your stuff and get lost.”
“Pardon?”
“Are you drunk, or am I? Find yourself another place. You can’t stay here.”
Very slowly the truth trickled into my mind. I walked into my room—no, into the room where I had lived until yesterday—and opened the wardrobe. The amount of my possessions was limited. There were no memories of my childhood—including the love-worn, only teddy bear I had ever owned, everything was long sold. Old school stuff had shared that fate. Current clothes, the charger for my mobile phone, actual schoolbooks, done. No, in the bathroom were my toothbrush, my hairbrush and my deodorant stick as well as a few tampons.
I took the opportunity, dropped my business attire and washed myself. Then I dashed past my grumbling mother back to my room and dressed in clean, warm clothes—mini skirt, top, pullover, pantyhose.
In our household there was no suitcase. The school stuff almost completely fit into my almost nine years old school bag. My clothes and shoes filled four plastic totes.
I stopped in the hallway and glanced at my mother. “Good luck.”
“Bah. Get lost.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
So my life consisted of a school bag, four plastic totes, and a bit more than a hundred Euro—plus half a year to finish school. Crap. You don’t need a diploma for fucking.
First, I had to survive the rest of the night without crossing the pimps’ path. With my totes, I was far less inconspicuous than before, so I avoided the main roads.
Loser Page 5
