Pretty Baby Ch. 01

by slyc_willie

The journey begins.

Part One: From Innocence Born

The summer between high school graduation and my first semester of college, I took a job in the mall at a casual-dining restaurant. I had never waited tables before, but caught on pretty quickly. I had always been friendly and a little outgoing, and even though I had rarely spent too much time around guys (I attended an all-girl Catholic high school), I wasn't too awkward at flirting and got better as time went on.

Being young, blonde, pretty and slender, and blessed with my father's good work ethic, I did well at my new job. I made some friends, earned some regular guests (we don't call them 'customers' in the restaurant biz) and made more money than I thought I would. Like a lot of kids, I was clueless about how much money a waiter or waitress could make, and was pretty impressed the first time I took home a hundred bucks after a five-hour shift.

The money helped a lot, since my parents didn't have much money to throw around. They paid my tuition, but it was up to me to pay for everything else. Not wanting to stay at home (it was too far from school), I got a little efficiency apartment of my own, and my bills and all other incidental costs ate up most of what I made.

By the time classes started and I bought all my books and school supplies, I realized I wasn't making as much money as I thought I was. I wanted to buy a car, since I hated getting up two hours early just to take the bus to school, but dreaded the prospect of a car payment and insurance and gas and . . . .

Anyway.

It was just a couple of weeks into the fall semester. I had fallen into a routine of going to class during the day, then heading to the mall and hanging out for a couple of hours, having lunch, window-shopping and reading books at the Barnes & Noble, before reporting to work at four o'clock. I worked five days a week, Wednesday through Sunday, mostly night shifts. While I enjoyed the occasional hundred-dollar night, most days I usually made about half that. Still, waiting tables was better than standing behind a counter and asking 'you want regular or curly-fries?'

On this particular day – a Wednesday, I remember – I sat at a table in the mall's food court around two in the afternoon, reading my notes from class and munching on chicken fried rice. The dress code at the restaurant called for blue jeans and a yellow polo shirt with the company logo on it. The jeans I was wearing; the shirt and my balled-up apron were stuffed in my backpack, as always, and I wore a simple green tank. I was just another girl in the crowd, I figured.

At one point, I looked up, cracking my neck and popping my back as I twisted in my chair. Going over the basics of economics had become repetitive, to the point where I wasn't even ingesting the words I had jotted down or those printed in the text book. I needed a break, a diversion . . . .

I saw them standing by the little hallway in the food court that lead to the bathrooms. A tall, skinny blonde guy and a shorter, if equally skinny Hispanic. I didn't think either of them were more than a few years older than I. They wore nice clothes, sported expensive watches and had good hair cuts.Regular studs, I thought. I had seen a lot of guys like that since I started waiting tables. They always flirted with me.

But these guys weren't flirting. They were staring. And grinning. And not exactly in a 'hey, you're pretty cute' kind of way. It was more like a 'I wanna do dirty, disgusting things with you' kind of way.

I looked away from them, dropping my head and staring down at my plate. I didn't like the way they wereleeringat me (that was a word my father always used when describing 'disreputable' boys). I felt suddenly self-conscious in my tight jeans and tank. I only wore clothes like that because that's what all the other girls wore, and I wanted to blend in. Suddenly, I wished I had on a big, loose sweater and an ankle-length skirt.

The guys I worked with – all of them older than me – flirted with me a lot, and I always flirted back, but it was all harmless. Having had practically no experience with boys – beyond a little kissing and some touchy-feely at inter-school dances – I was nervous about dating. My strong Christian background compelled me to think of sex as nothing more than a means of procreation, not something to be indulged in casually. I always figured that I would lose my virginity on my wedding night and be a good wife and mother, just like my mom.

So, while inexperienced, I wasn't naïve, and I could pretty much tell what those two boys were thinking. That made me feel both mad, and . . . and something else. Something that made my face warm and brought a little tingle to my crotch, right on that little button that I sometimes rubbed at night, alone in my room, thinking about Leonardo DiCaprio.God, was he sexy. . . .

After an eternity and a half, I looked back up and saw that the boys had left.Thank God. I really had to go to the bathroom – I was dancing in the plastic chair – but I had been afraid to get up while the boys were standing by the hallway to the restrooms. Seizing my chance, I grabbed my bag and quick-stepped down the corridor, pushing open the door to the ladies' room and finding an unoccupied stall.

I sighed as I relieved myself, wiped, flushed, washed my hands in the sink and applied some powder. I prided myself on my appearance. I had practically flawless skin and knew that most guys considered me a 'hottie.' My blonde hair was long, straight, and very fine, reaching almost to my waist. I always thought my hips were too narrow, and I didn't like my pear-shaped breasts with their big, puffy areolas. I felt suddenly self-conscious in my tight shirt. Even with my bra, my nipples showed.

I checked the time on my cell phone – I had about an hour before I had to get to work – and figured I would head down to the Kincaid Gallery and look at some of the pieces by the Master of Light that I could not yet afford.

I stepped out into the hallway . . . and there they were. The same two guys, flanking the hall just before it angled back toward the food court. They looked like they had been waiting for me, considering their lecherous grins and they way they nodded to each other.

I swallowed nervously, my heart hammering. Shouldering my backpack, I started to walk between them—

"Hey, honey."

I froze, automatically looking to the Hispanic guy. I knew instantly that I should not have done that. I should have kept going. Salvation was a turn of the heel and thirty feet away. I could hear the buzz of a dozen conversations in the food court, mingled with the tinny music wafting out from hidden speakers. I could find safety and anonymity in the crowd. But here, in this hallway, it was just me and these two boys.

I met the Hispanic guy's eyes. He wasn't much taller than me, maybe five-seven, and he had that overly self-confident look that always kind of bothered me. 'Smooth,' was the term. I hated smooth.

"What's your name, baby?" he asked.

I knew I should have just kept going. What could they really do, anyway? But there was something about him – or maybe something about me – that kept me rooted to the floor. "Alyssa," I said, and nervousness spiked again, especially when I caught the tall blonde guy from the corner of my eye, stepping closer. "U-um, I gotta get going. M-my boyfriend's waiting for me."

The Hispanic guy chuckled. "Your boyfriend, huh?"

I swallowed again, my mouth dry. I wished I hadn't left my Diet Coke on the table. "Uh-huh."

"So what'cha gonna go do with your boyfriend, huh?" he asked, sliding closer.

"N-nothing," I said, dumbly. My heart was pounding, my mind filled with awful images of pain and blood and screaming. Still, I was conscious of a sense of arousal, of a growing dampness between my legs. I never felt that except late at night, in my bed, looking at 'Leo's' gorgeous pictures inYMorPeople. Why the hell was I feeling it now?

Oh Mary, Mother of Grace . . . .

"'Nothing?'" quipped the Hispanic guy. My eyes danced for a moment to the tall blonde, who looked me over the way a scientist inspects his latest lab specimen. He smiled thinly, licking his lips.

"W-well—"

"I bet Mr. Jackson could give you something to do."

I turned back to the Hispanic guy, frowning. "Who?"

They both laughed, their voices echoing a moment in the empty hall. "Mr. Jackson," repeated the Hispanic guy, pulling his hand from his pocket. He held a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. "Don't you know our tenth president?"

I frowned. I had always been a good student, and knew my history. "He was the seventh," I corrected him.

He chuckled, glancing to his friend. "Hey, she's a smart one," he said.

The blonde sneered. "Smart and hot," he returned.

Now I was feeling really nervous. I didn't have to have graduated summa cum laude to know what these guys wanted. But I felt like I couldn't get away. The blonde guy was behind me, the Hispanic blocking my escape to the food court. Unless I screamed for help, or someone else came down the hall – and at three o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon, traffic in the mall was light, I knew – I was on my own.

"Hear that?" asked the Hispanic guy. "My friend Rick thinks you're hot. So do I."

Dread filled me. "Please, I gotta get to work," I pleaded.

The Hispanic guy reached out and nudged my chin with his fingers. I flinched at his touch. "What time you gotta be at work?"

"R-right now," I said. "I'm gonna be late!"

He chuckled. "Mr. Jackson says it's okay to be late," he said, looking me over like a toy he couldn't wait to play with. He pulled another twenty from his pocket. "In fact, he says it twice."

I was scared, mortified, and trapped. Rationally, I know I could have called for help, or broke into a run and escaped them. But at the moment, I felt cornered and unable to do anything other than go along with what they wanted.

"Wh-what do you want?" I asked, not looking at his face, my eyes dropping to his Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

He grinned, cast his eyes around briefly, then leaned close. "I want you to suck my dick," he said in a rude whisper.

I trembled, and winced. But as those words filtered through my mind . . .'suck my dick'. . . I felt the dampness between my thighs growing, becoming a trickle that soaked into my panties. I suddenly imagined wrapping my mouth around a stiff, warm penis. I hated to admit it, but I was getting turned on.

I fought the feeling down and forced myself to meet his lecherous gaze. "N-no," I said, but I sounded much less adamant than I had wanted to.

He looked amused. 'Rick' chuckled behind me, and reached out to touch my hair. I recoiled, stepped away, and Mr. Suck My Dick grabbed my arm. "Hey, baby, don't be like that," he said in a suave tone, pulling me against him. I whimpered, struggled with less effort than I should have. "No need to get nasty, right?"

I caught the undertone in his voice right away. I realized I had two options: give in, do what they wanted, or resist, and be raped. I whimpered again.

"Hey, Miguel, I think she gets it now," said Rick.

Miguel chuckled, and jerked me close, breathing in my ear before his tongue flicked out to lick it. I whimpered. The heat and moisture in my panties was growing. "Yeah, you get it, baby, don't you? Hey, it's no big deal. Not like you never gone down before, right? And we're gonna pay you, anyway . . . ."

He trailed off as he dragged me to the men's room. I stumbled beside him, meekly giving in, even as I felt myself getting more and more turned on. I had never done anything sexual in my life aside from kissing and touching a boy's leg. Once, and only once, I had touched a penis through thick layers of denim.

I had always been nervous and skittish when it came to any kind of physical intimacy. Secretly, I had always wanted to experience the many varied and pleasurable ways of having sex, and when my older brother still lived at home, I had sneaked peeks at his collection of dirty magazines. Some had been very explicit, showing young girls with their mouths wrapped around penises and dripping with thick white fluid. My fantasies of Leonardo DiCaprio always ended with feeling that same stuff dripping down my chin. I always wondered what it tasted like.

And, now, suddenly, in a way I had never expected, I was about to find out.

I was pulled through the door of the men's room, across grimy tile, to the last of three stalls. Miguel pushed me down – not too rough, but firmly – onto the closed toilet lid and unzipped his fly. I stared at his crotch, breathing hard in both fear and anticipation. I was about to see a real penis for the first time, I realized.

And there it was. Sticking out through his fly. Stiff, brown, curved upward and a little to the right, with a dark, spade-shaped head and a little oozing slit that glistened with clear fluid. Miguel dug into his jeans and pulled out his hairy testicles as well, making them bunch up around the base of his penis.

"For forty bucks,chica," he said, taking my hand and slapping the money into my palm. He reached for my head with both hands and pulling me toward his musky groin. "You better go all the way."

Go all the way? I wondered, even as his cock slipped into my mouth.What does that mean?

"Oh, baby, yeahhhh," he moaned, moving his hips, sliding his penis in and out of my mouth. I had never tasted a penis before, and had no frame of reference for the salty, sweet, musky flavor that soaked into my senses, nor the way that stiff tube of flesh rubbed against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I tasted something sweet and oily on my tongue. Inexperienced as I was, I clamped down and sucked hard.

"Ouch!" Miguel grunted, jerking back. His cock popped out of my mouth, shiny and wet. My lips dripped with saliva. I realized with wonder that my mouth was watering.

"Damn, girl!" he exclaimed, staring down at me in consternation. "This ain't your momma's tit! Suck it soft, okay? And don't use your teeth! Shit! Ain't you never give a blow job before?"

'Blow job.' The term seemed alien, even though I had heard it before, of course. I blushed, feeling embarrassed, as if I was somehow less than a woman for being so inexperienced. "Sorry," I said, and licked my lips. "I'll do better."

It amazes me now, how eager I was to satisfy this man. Had things gone sour, I could have been bent over the toilet and screaming in pain as I bled all over his cock. But that thought did not enter my mind at the time. I only wanted to be good at what I was doing . . . and what I was doing was sucking the first penis my tongue had ever tasted.

"You better, baby," he groaned, and thrust back into my mouth. I tasted him again, felt his length between my lips, his fleshy weight on my tongue. I opened my jaw, locked my lips around the warm, pulsing shaft, and rubbed my tongue back and forth against the underside. I felt more of that oily fluid leak out. I discovered that I liked the flavor.

"Oh, baby . . . ." Miguel moaned, running his fingers through my hair. He stood still, and I took that as encouragement. My body tingled as he massaged my scalp – it reminded me, strangely, of when my mom used to wash my hair – and I heard myself moan. Mimicking what I had seen in my brother's porn magazines, I glided my lips back and forth, sucking gently but firmly, swirling my tongue round and round and round . . . .

The sensation, and the knowledge, that I had a penis in my mouth –I'm sucking dick! Giving a blow job!– thrilled me in ways I had never anticipated. The moistness in my panties became a river of my own sweet nectar as I worked on his shaft. There came that slow tingling rise of what I had always thought of as 'buzzing,' since I always felt a long, static sensation whenever I came. And I wasn't even touching myself!

I felt every little pulse and jerk and throb of Miguel's erection, loved the taste of that sweet fluid that dripped out onto my eager tongue. Wanting more, I slipped back until just the spongy head was in my mouth, and brought up my hand. Miguel shuddered in pleasure, gripping my head tighter in his hands as I squeezed and stroked his shaft. I moaned at receiving yet more of that candy-like cream.

This doesn't taste bad at all, I thought, sucking harder and harder, pulling on Miguel's tense cock, squeezing the base with my hand as I pumped my mouth back and forth.Why have I always heard that cum tastes nasty? This stuff is sweet! I could lick it up all day—

And then Miguel was shaking and moaning, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, all the way to my throat. "Oh, fuck yeah!" he gasped, humping my face. "Take it, baby! Uhnnnn . . . ."

My eyes flashed open.'Take it?' I gagged and jerked my head back, almost retching, as the first thick surge of warm fluid flowed across my tongue. My senses were lit up by the flavor. It wasn't anything at all like the sticky clear essence I had been enjoying. This stuff was runny, dry, bitter, and a little caustic. Still, there was something about it, something primal and naughty and attractive about the taste that made me excited.

And I thought:He's cumming! He's . . . he's ejaculating right in my mouth!

Before I knew what was happening, I felt my pussy spasm, the rush spreading out from my groin and traveling rapidly through my body. I was shocked and startled that, even as I realized I had brought a man to orgasm with my mouth – andinmy mouth! -- I was cumming as well.

I shook and moaned and whimpered around Miguel's twitching dick, feeling some of his warm fluid seep out over my lower lip, down my chin, to drip audibly to the floor below. Miguel was lost to ecstasy, plunging into my mouth, making his cock slick and streaked with semen. But the majority of his sperm remained in my mouth.

My own orgasm faded away, leaving my panties sticky and wet as they clung to my labia, and I relished the afterglow as I sucked tenderly on the softening cock in my mouth. I smacked my lips and murmured in pleasure, stroking Miguel's penis to make every last drop of cum ooze into my hungry mouth. Miguel sighed in satisfaction, running his fingers through my hair, and let me suckle him until he pulled back. His wet dick popped from my mouth, the head shiny and smeared with pearly fluid. Impulsively, I licked all around it until he pushed my head back.

Gently, Miguel tilted my head up until I was looking at him, and he grinned rakishly upon seeing my face. "Fuck, you're hot, baby," he said dreamily. "You look so nasty with cum on your face."

His words were unexpectedly exciting. I could feel his fluid trickling over my chin and down my neck. His cum swirled in my mouth, like watery pudding, soaking into my tongue and cheeks, flowing to the back of my throat. Reflexively, I swallowed some of it, frowning slightly at the flavor. It struck me that cum tasted one way when I held it in my mouth, but entirely different when it slithered down my throat. It wasn't terrible, just . . . different.

"Go on, baby," Miguel encouraged me, petting my hair affectionately. He wasn't the forceful brute anymore. Now he was the grateful recipient of a world-class blow job. "Go ahead, you can do it."

I breathed in, inhaling the aroma of sperm. I knew what he meant, and suddenly, I wanted to do it. I wanted to be the naughty girl, one of those girls guys always whispered about with awe when they said those magic words:"she swallows."There was something about that simple act that elevated a girl to some sort of pinnacle, making her special. I wanted to be special.

I took another breath, readying myself, then ducked my head and gulped it all down. Miguel's sperm rushed down my throat like a waterfall, filling my tummy. It was warm and bitter and dry going down, leaving me with an aftertaste not altogether unpleasant. I breathed out, licking my sticky lips. They felt glazed, like a Krispy Kreme donut.

"Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Miguel with an impressed chuckle. "Man, you one hot little bitch! You like that, huh?"

I glanced back to his face, blushing with both arousal and a little embarrassment. "It's okay," I said. I touched my chin, feeling it slick, then reached for my purse and pulled out my compact. I stared at my glistening chin in the little mirror. Miguel's cum wasn't white; more like grey, in fact. Of course, maybe that was because it was mixed with my own spit. Tentatively, I massaged it into my chin and cheeks, wiped it up from my neck. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, I sucked my fingers clean.

"So what you think, baby?" asked Miguel, offering his spent dick for one last lick before tucking it away and zipping up.

I looked past him, savoring that last warm drop of cum on my tongue, saw Miguel's blonde-haired friend standing in the now-open stall door. He was giving me an anxious, hopeful look. I felt deliciously naughty as I said, "I think I'd like to see if Rick is as friendly with our seventh president as you are."

Rick grinned upon hearing that, and Miguel stepped back, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "She's good, man," he said. "She's fucking great."

I smiled proudly, bit my lip in excitement as Rick closed the door and turned to me. I could see how excited he was as he unzipped his jeans. "You ready for more?" he asked, pulling out a stiff, long penis, soft blonde hair surrounding the root of it.

I licked my lips, eyeing his penis. "First things first," I said, rubbing my fingers together.

Rick chuckled, dug in his pocket, handed me two crumpled twenty-dollar bills. Happily shoving them in my jeans, I dove for his crotch, hungrily and eagerly filling my mouth with cock for the second time that day, and the second time in my entire life.

***

I headed to work with the lingering flavor of two loads of semen in my mouth and throat, feeling the delectable juices swimming in my stomach. Rick's cum had been a little thicker and slightly sweeter, making me think that not all guys came the same.

My face was slightly blushed as I recalled every vivid moment of my first two blow jobs ever. Every aspect of the act turned me on: the feel of a stiff tube of flesh in my mouth, the musky, manly taste of the skin, the sweet flavor of pre-cum, and that incredible rush of liquid encouragement that rewarded my efforts. But the hottest part of the whole thing . . . .

I had been paid to suck cock. That single thought cascaded through my mind, making me feel so incredibly naughty. I was now, and forever would be, a prostitute.

The idea was deliciously intoxicating. I had power over men, I realized. Power gained by my eager mouth and apparently natural skill.

I couldn't wait to do it again.

I had an incredible night at the restaurant. We sold mainly burgers, sandwiches, and salads, and while most checks rang up at around ten dollars a person, I made 'bank,' averaging over twenty percent in tips per check. Still, in the three and a half hours that I was on the floor, I made just a little less money as a waitress than I had as a prostitute.

I giggled at the thought.Half an hour with a dick in my mouth, and I make more money than three hours taking out food and slinging drinks. I was in rare form that night, giggling and joking with coworkers and guests, flirting with any man who came close enough. I imagined every man I saw with his penis hanging out and waiting for my eager mouth. Such thoughts, and the vivid memories of sucking off Miguel and Rick, kept my panties wet all night.

I left the restaurant just before eight o'clock, since it was pretty slow, after finishing my sidework duties. Wanting to get back to my apartment so I could finger myself silly, I made a beeline for the bus stop. If I hurried, I could be home in half an hour . . . .

My bus was pulling away when I was about twenty feet from it. I called out, yelling to the driver, but he neither saw nor heard me. I cursed, stamping my feet like a little girl, and dragged my heels back to the covered bus stop. I fell down on the bench heavily, pissed that I had to wait another forty minutes for the next run. I was alone in the little booth, which made it worse. I thought about heading back to work and hanging out with my coworkers, but I worried that I would forget the time and miss my next bus.

So I sat there, pouting, watching shoppers as they left the mall, heading to their cars in the parking lot. I want a car, I lamented to myself. I hate taking the fucking bus!

As I looked around, playing Tetris on my cell phone, I noticed an attractive older guy, carrying two big department store bags, heading to a sleek Jaguar that was parked not too far away from where I sat. For a moment, as he placed the bags in his trunk, he looked up, right toward me.

I smiled. He had a handsome face, reminding me of my Uncle Jeff. Strong lines, dark hair . . . maybe he had a little bit of a pudge, but I thought it was kind'a cute.

He smiled back, gave me a little nod. Just then, a chime sounded from my cell phone, telling me I had lost my game. "Shit!" I cursed, and slapped the phone closed. I checked the time: I still had half an hour to wait.

Man, I'm gonna miss the first fifteen minutes of Law & Order, I thought angrily.Stupid bus driver . . . .

A car pulled up in front of the bus stop. The same hunter green Jag. The passenger window slid down smoothly, and a man – my 'Uncle Jeff' clone – leaned over in his seat. "Would you like a ride, young lady?"

Talk about a pick-up line. I had been propositioned many times before as I sat at the bus stop. I had heard from some of the girls I worked with that sometimes, real streetwalkers hung around the mall, acting like they were waiting for a bus. I guess guys figured any young woman sitting in the booth was fair game. And I supposed, dressed in my tight jeans and green tank-top, my work shirt once more invisible in my backpack, I might have appeared as one of those girls.

And instantly, I was.

I had never, ever, considered getting in a strange man's car before. I had been brought up to believe that doing so was dangerous, that any man who offers a girl a ride was a demented serial killer or rapist. But I had a strange intuition about this man in his expensive car. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like my uncle. Or maybe it was because I just felt naughty enough to do what I figured he wanted.

All that went through my mind in about one second. I smiled flirtatiously, taking up my bag, and approached the car. "Sure," I said, and opened the door.

The car smelled of cigarettes and cologne as I slid into the passenger seat. The man behind the wheel held a cigarette between the fingers of his left hand as it rested on the steering wheel. I noticed the wedding band around his ring finger, and wondered about his wife.

"My name's Gary," he said, giving me a smile as he looked me over. His eyes lingered on my chest. He didn't offer to shake hands. His right hand rested on the gear shift.

"Alyssa," I said, my eyes dropping to his crotch automatically. He wore loose, light brown slacks.

He nodded, drove away from the curb. He pulled on his cigarette, blowing smoke. I had never liked cigarettes before, and had only smoked a few times with friends. But suddenly, it seemed attractive. Smoking was something I had always seen 'naughty girls' do.

"Can I have one?" I asked him.

Gary smiled, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and handed it to me along with a blue plastic lighter. I looked the package over, thinking how funny the picture on the cover was.What do camels have to do with smoking?

I took one out, lit it, and breathed in. Having smoked before, I was prepared for the tight feeling as my throat constricted. My lungs convulsed only slightly, trying to force the invader out, but I suppressed it. I exhaled smoke, tasting the tobacco and nicotine. I handed Gary his cigarettes and lighter, pulled a few more times on my smoke. The rush hit me about thirty seconds later, making my body tingle.

"So, uh, where are you going?" he asked.

I gave him a smile. I don't know why, but I could tell that I was calling the shots. Gary wanted something from me, and he would do whatever it took to get it. I was in control, and I loved it.

"Home," I said, and figured there was nothing wrong with telling him where I lived. My apartment complex consisted of thirty-six buildings, after all. I could have Gary drop me off at the entrance gate, and he would never know exactly where I lived.

But, there was something to be done, first . . . .

"So, um, you work at the mall?" he asked.

I smiled, falling into the role. "Sometimes."

He nodded, turning the wheel. I got the impression he was nervous. "So, um . . . you a cop?"

I frowned.What a silly question!"No," I said with a soft laugh.

"Can you prove it?" he asked.

I stared at him, wondering why he would even . . . and then it dawned on me.Oh, right. I knew from watching Law & Order that cops sometimes posed as prostitutes to make busts. One of my favorite episodes was about that. "How?" I finally asked.

He looked around at the sparse traffic on the street. There weren't too many cars on the road, and the sun had long gone down. "Show me your tits," he suggested.

I hesitated a moment. I had always been sensitive about my breasts. Girls who had seen me in the showers in high school called me 'Puff' because of my big, fat areolas. They stuck out about half an inch from my B-cups and were about the size of espresso cup saucers. But if showing this guy my breasts was how it was done . . . .

I pulled up my top, glancing around nervously outside the car. I was both apprehensive and excited about this little act of exhibitionism. Gary alternately watched me and the road as I reached behind and fumbled with the clasp of my bra. I got it undone, then pushed my bra up, leaning back as my breasts were completely exposed. The cool night air rushing over them made my nipples stiffen even more.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, his eyes glazing. I didn't stop him as, for the first time, a man touched my naked breasts. He cupped the left one, squeezing it gently with his fingers, rubbing his palm against my sensitive nipple. I sighed, pushing my tit against his hand. It was encouraging and arousing that Gary seemed so turned on by my pear-shaped titties.

"Jesus, baby, you're gorgeous," he said, groping my other breast. I just moaned softly, lifting my hands to push his more firmly against my tits. I stroked his forearm, let my left hand wander to his upper thigh. He automatically parted his legs. I knew he wanted me to touch his cock.

So I did, leaning closer, surprised at how bold I suddenly was. I felt his stiff penis through his slacks. The simple feel of that hardness was intensely thrilling. He was erect, and it was because of me. My pussy started getting wet again.

Gary was breathing hard, one hand on my tits, the other on the steering wheel as he drove. I massaged his crotch, feeling that stiff rod against my hand. I wanted to see it . . . God, I wanted to suck it so bad!

"Hey, uh, lemme just, um, hit a gas station and grab some condoms, okay?" he said, squeezing my left tit again.

I jerked my hand back and sat up, staring at him anxiously. "Condoms?"

He nodded, not looking at me. "Yeah, of course," he said, taking a corner. "I only do it with condoms."

I was quiet.Sex, I thought.He wants to have sex. He wants to fuck me. I felt nervous, scared. I hadn't thought he would want that. I didn't want to give up my cherry like this.

"What's wrong?" he asked, finally looking back at me as I pulled my bra back down over my breasts. Then he seemed to understand, at least a little. "Oh. You don't fuck, huh? Just head?"

I stopped, biting my lip, giving Gary an apologetic look. "Yeah. Just head," I said. "Is that okay?"

Gary shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said. I could tell he was disappointed. I thought his reaction strange. Every guy I ever knew would give their right testicle for a good blow job. And here I was, offering . . . and he was disappointed?

"Something wrong?" I asked.

Gary sighed, then smiled at me. "No, nothing wrong, it's just . . . I've never, uh, well . . . I can't cum from a blow job."

That surprised me. "Really?"

"It's okay," said Gary, pulling off the main road into a middle school parking lot. The place was deserted. "You can suck it for a while, it feels really good, but I'll just have to, well, finish with my hand."

I looked down. "Oh."

Gary parked the car beneath a tree, but close enough to a street light so we could both see inside the car. Without much ado, he pushed his seat back, unsnapped and unzipped his slacks, and shoved them down his knees along with a pair of dark blue boxers. His dick stuck almost straight up, sleek and pale and fully circumcised. The sight of it turned me on.

"Can I touch your tits?" asked Gary, leaning back in his seat.

I smiled. "Sure," I said, and slipped off my tank. I pulled off my bra, suddenly and for the first time topless with a man. My puffy nips swelled with excitement.

"Oh, baby, you've got the hottest tits I've ever seen," he murmured, reaching with both hands. Swiftly, he leaned over and cupped his mouth over my left nipple, sucking it and my thick areola in its entirety into his mouth. I gasped at this new sensation, automatically pushing against his face and cradling Gary's head.Oh, Jesus that feels so good!

Gary mumbled and moaned as he sucked my tits, moving back and forth, groping, licking, fondling, sucking. I eagerly offered him my breasts, getting hotter and hotter as I watched his lips wrap around my puffies. My pussy twitched and spasmed, and I couldn't help but press my hand between my legs, rubbing through my jeans.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Uhhhmmm . . . ." I moaned aloud as I came, and Gary kept sucking my tits, pulling on them hard, and in the midst of my orgasm, jammed his fingers into my crotch, pushing my hand aside and digging through the denim. I gasped and hissed, humping his hand. I clutched his head close, shaking as I crested the summit of orgasm.

I was instantly overcome with lust, becoming a totally different woman. I pushed Gary back into his seat and leaned over him, aggressively grabbing his stiff dick. He stared at me with a mixture of awe, surprise, and desire. I don't know where the words I next said came from:

"I'm gonna suck your fucking cock and make you cum in my mouth," I declared, then went down wantonly, taking his cock between my lips and sucking hard. I bobbed up and down, possessed by my desire to taste him. Gary moaned, one hand on the back of my head, the other groping my breasts as I mouth-fucked him.

I took every last little inch of his manhood in my mouth, feeling the smooth head prod my throat as my lips wrapped around the base. I felt the reflex to gag, but suppressed it, and pushed down even more. Gary moaned loudly as the head of his dick popped right into my throat. I felt my air suddenly cut off, and my eyes bulged slightly. But still I sucked, wanting every bit of his cock in my mouth.

His balls were musky, hairy, tickling my nose. I ran my fingers across them, massaging, caressing. Gary shuddered, moaning again, pushing my head down further. I loved the feel of his cock sliding down my throat. But after a few moments, I had to breathe.

I slid up, pulling Gary's dick out of my throat, and sucked hard as I took in deep breaths through my nose. Filling my lungs with air, I pushed back down, making a wet popping sound as his dick went all the way in once more. I bobbed fast and hard, my esophagus rippling around the head of his penis. I felt the steering wheel against my bangs, Gary's firm grip on my left tit.

Back and forth like that I went, for several long, sweet minutes, taking Gary all the way down, then moving back up and massaging the head with my lips and tongue. I loved the way Gary gasped and moaned, as overcome with lust as I was.

"Oh, shit! Oh, God! B-b-b-baby! Oh, ffffuccckkkk . . . ."

I felt the surging through his shaft, the way his cock became incredibly stiff in my mouth. I slid my mouth up until just the head was trapped between my sucking lips, and stroked his slick shaft hard with my hand. I had developed an instinct for giving head, I realized. I knew just what to do to maximize a man's orgasm.

Into my mouth, thick and rich and sweet, surged Gary's sperm. He shook and moaned loudly, arching his back, relishing the sensations I gave him. I sucked and pulled, stroked and squeezed, getting every little bit of that creamy treat. Only the third load of cum to be spent in my mouth, and I was already addicted to the flavor.

My mouth-work on his penis proved too much, however, and he begged me to stop, pulling on my head. Giving his spent dick one last, hard suck, I let it pop out of my mouth as I lifted up. I sighed in satisfaction, swishing his manly load in my mouth. His cum was the sweetest yet, and fairly thick as well.

For a few moments, as I petted Gary's spent and wilted dick, running my hands over his soft, pudgy abdomen, I just held his cream in my mouth, savoring it. I smiled at him, enjoying the stupefied reaction on his face. Then, staring him in the eye, I sucked in my cheeks and made a loud gulping sound as I swallowed his load. I could feel the warmth of it in my chest as it oozed down to my stomach.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Y-you swallow?"

I licked my lips and smiled in satisfaction. "Mm-hmm," I moaned, then leaned over and licked a last little bubble of cum from his dick. I showed Gary the creamy white dollop on my tongue before sucking it down with a sigh. Being so naughty and dirty turned me on so much more than I had ever thought it could.

Gary laughed, sagging back in his seat. "Oh my God," he breathed out. "I can't believe it. You did it, baby." He sat up, giving me a worshipful look. "In all my life, I've never cum from a blow job. How'd you do that?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Just a gift, I guess."

He swooned. "Baby, please," he said with such sincerity. "I know I shouldn't ask, but . . . I gotta have your phone number. Please. I promise I'll be discreet."

I thought about it a moment, then nodded, and gave him my cell phone number. Then I looked at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, then smiled sheepishly as he understood. He dug into his jeans, pulled out a wad of cash. He peeled off two twenties and a ten, handed them to me. I was impressed.

"You're that good, baby," he said.

I just smiled and gave him a little kiss. Then I kissed his dick one last time before he pulled up his slacks.

***

I thought about my experiences over the following few days. Three times in one day, I had given head in exchange for money, making me aprostitute. That word, which had always held a seedy, dark reputation, now seemed almost like a badge of honor. More than the act of giving head, more than taste of cum, what aroused me the most was being so decadent and wicked as to take money in exchange for the pleasures of my mouth.

Still, twelve years of Catholic guilt were difficult to overcome, and I felt shame andwickedness(as my father had always called it) as I thought about what I had done. I fell back into my mode of being the shy, quiet one at school and work. While I still flirted as I had always done, I toned it down, and kept to myself.

On Saturday morning, before my lunch shift at work, I got off the bus before St. Andrew's. The towering steeple of the church loomed over me like the condemning hand of God. Guilt over my actions three days before washed through me with the strength of Noah's flood. I could hear Bible verses repeated in my head in my father's voice.

The church was mostly empty, save for some of the more devout who knelt in the first few rows of pews, muttering prayers over and over. I headed to the confessional, slid the door closed as I sat on the hard wooden bench. I picked my nails until I heard the little window slide open in the wall to my right.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," I intoned.

"How long has it been since your last confession, child?" asked a wizened voice through the wire screen. The priest sounded tired, weary of hearing the selfish confessions and whining he was subjected to on a daily basis.

I trembled. "About . . . three months," I said.

"What do you wish to confess?"

I fell silent.How can I say it? How can I confess to something so wicked and decadent, yet so . . .wonderfully satisfying?

"Talk to me, child," came the voice again, urging me. "You would not be here if you did not have sins to confess."

I sighed. "I have always listened to God's word," I said. "I have honored my father and mother, done charitable things, and behaved as I was taught a proper woman should behave."

"That is very commendable," said the disembodied voice.

I continued. "But, recently, I . . . I did something I know is wicked and immoral, but . . . it just felt so good! I couldn't help it! I wanted to do it, even though I know I shouldn't have."

"What did you do, child?" asked the tired voice.

I gritted my teeth, having arrived at the moment of truth. The air in the confessional was fragrant with the aromas of pine and guilt. "I . . . I accepted money in exchange for . . . ." I trailed off, unable to finish.

"For?" the invisible priest prompted me. He seemed suddenly interested in my confession.

I felt hot, embarrassed, but also aroused as I recalled Miguel, and Rick, and Gary, and the stiff, throbbing cocks between their legs, the rush of cum on my tongue, the tart flavor of semen as it flowed down my throat . . . .

"For . . . giving head," I said with a sigh, then immediately corrected myself, feeling a need to be clinical. "I mean, performing oral sex."

"Ah. I see. That is, indeed, wicked."

I slumped, feeling ashamed. And ashamed even more that the mere thought of what I had done was making me moist again. I had spent every night and morning since Wednesday masturbating in my bed to the memories of what I had done, often exploding in multiple orgasms that left my thighs and cheeks dripping.

"And you . . . you say you accepted money for this service?" asked the hidden priest.

"Yes, Father," I said. "Please, forgive me."

"Did it . . . excite you?" he asked.

I breathed out, whimpering. "Oh, God, it turned me on so much!" I exclaimed in a pained, hoarse voice. "Just the feel of it, and the knowledge that I was doing it for money, and . . . and the taste . . . oh, God, it tasted so good . . . ."

"The . . . taste, child?" he queried.

I moaned, lost in my recollection, forgetting where I was and who I was talking to. "Mmm, when they came in my mouth . . . oh, fuck . . . that's the best part."

"I . . . see."

"Am I wicked, Father?" I asked, temporarily returning to the moment. "I am, aren't I? I'm terrible, and wicked, and . . . and evil, and—"

I stopped abruptly as I heard the little screen in the window between the booths pulled to the side. There was a dark shadow of movement, the sound of cloth, and then, through the window, thrust a hard, very pale, and very throbbing penis.

"I think you need special dispensation, child," said the voice.

I whimpered again, controlled by lust. Without hesitation, I descended upon the priest's cock, wrapping my fingers around the base, sucking on the head. I moaned in pleasure, determined to satisfy my craving for the taste and feel of a stiff cock that had been building for the previous few days.

"Oh, yes, child," moaned the priest on the other side. "'Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.'"

I hummed along to the cadence of the prayer as I slurped and sucked hungrily on the pale, marble-like rod in my mouth, drawing out a literal river of oily pre-cum and swallowing the sweet treat. The vibrations I made as I repeatedly mumbled the prayer seemed to excite the priest even more, bringing about his orgasm quickly.

The pitch of the priest's voice became more strained: "Our father . . . who art in H-heaven . . . uhn . . . h-hallowed by thy n-name . . . th-thy kingdom . . . ohhh . . . thy kingdom . . .cum! Oh, Lord, forgive me!"

I could actually feel the forceful spurts of the priest's pudding-like semen as it shot out of his penis. I nearly choked on the first gooey glob as it hit the back of my throat, but managed to swallow it down. I moaned in rapture, and kept sucking as thick ropes of cum landed heavily on my tongue. The flavor was unexpectedly sweet, the consistency of his juice like tapioca. I figured the priest had not ejaculated in quite a while.

Abruptly, the priest jerked his prick out of my mouth and back through the window, leaving me with drops of sperm on my lips and a mouthful of his 'spiritual' essence.

"God bless you, my child," he murmured.

I leaned back, holding his cum in my mouth, wanting to savor it for as long as I could. My hands touched my breasts through the white tank I wore, caressing my stiff nipples.

"Ten Our Fathers," said the priest, his voice breathless. "And my . . . personal grace." A twenty-dollar bill emerged through the window.

I sighed through my nose, taking the money.I guess a priest deserves a half-price blow job, I thought. "'Hank oo, fa'er," I managed to say around my thick mouthful, then took up my bag. I stepped from the booth, smiling naughtily. There was a fat woman outside, waiting to enter the confessional.

"Is Father Thomas in a good mood today?" she asked me, her eyes wide.

I smiled at her, conscious of the traces of gummy white fluid on my lips. I knew she could see them. I sucked in, swallowed Father Thomas' rich sperm, then licked my lips. "Oh, I'm sure he's in averygood mood," I said, then stepped away, listening to the fat woman's gasps of shock.

I left the church, heading to the bus stop, feeling strangely vindicated and absolved.There's no turning back now, I thought.

"'Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name . . . .'"

***

That afternoon, following my single lunch shift (it was rare that I only worked a Saturday lunch and not a double, as was the norm), I headed out into the mall, after once again stripping off my work shirt. I felt a strange sense of confidence, of casual arousal. The thick taste of Father Thomas' sperm remained with me, even after six hours. It made me want more.

As I headed through the mall, seeing boys and men, fathers with their families and husbands with their wives, I kept thinking that it would be so easy to approach any of them and make them an offer. I simplyknewthat no man would refuse me, and that knowledge fueled my ego, making me inordinately confident.

As I passed a shoe store, I stopped in my tracks, spying a pair of leather go-go boots I had always dreamt of having. My mouth watered, and my pussy juiced just looking at them. I had to have those boots. Still, the two-hundred-dollar price tag was daunting. I didn't have that much on me, nor even in my account. The money I had made since Wednesday had gone toward bills, groceries, and incidentals.

Still, there was no harm in looking . . . .

I headed inside, made a bee-line for the display of boots. There happened to be a pair in size five, and I took them down, smelling the rich leather.Mmm . . . if these boots were a man, I'd give up my cherry right now,I thought.

I took the boots down an aisle, sat down and took off my black work shoes. But I realized that I wouldn't be able to pull on the boots, since my jeans were so tight around my legs.Damn it, I wish I wore a skirt!

"Can I help you, miss?"

I looked up from the little bench I sat upon, seeing an attractive black man with a shaved head, wearing khaki slacks and a blue polo. He had a name tag that read, "Marcus."

"Yeah," I said, looking to his crotch a moment. I could see a faint bulge beneath the fabric. "I wish I could try on these boots."

Marcus shrugged. "Go right ahead."

I smiled in a self-deprecating way. "You gonna let me take my jeans off right here?" I asked sarcastically.

The salesman looked me over in a way that told me he sure as hell wouldn't mind seeing me in my panties. "Tell you what," he said. "We have a stock room in the back. I'll watch the door."

I mused over the proposal a moment, then smiled. "Sure."

***

Marcus lead me through a narrow door in the back, and I found myself in a room lined with overstuffed shelves of shoes and heels and boots. The aroma of leather was strong and seductive. Marcus closed the door behind us and looked me over again as I found a little stool and sat down.

"I thought you were gonna watch the door," I said.

He smiled confidently. "I am. From the inside."

What a sneaky bastard,I thought, even as I smiled. "Is that what you like to do? Watch?"

Marcus licked his lips, already undressing me. "You got it, babe."

That warmth returned, making my cheeks blush and my pussy twitch. Teasingly, I unsnapped and unzipped my jeans, giving Marcus a glimpse of my white cotton undies with little hearts on them. I sat with my legs parted, providing him with a great view. "You could do more than watch," I suggested, hardly believing the words coming out of my mouth.

He arched a thin eyebrow, and took a step closer. "Yeah?"

The idea of exposing myself to this guy suddenly made me hot . . . even hotter than taking off my top and blowing Gary in his car. "Maybe," I said.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled knowingly. "What'chu want, girl?"

I leaned forward, spreading my legs more, my hands on my knees, letting him see my cleavage. "Two things," I said. "I want these boots."

He pursed his lips. "Hmm . . . ."

I smiled mischievously. "And I want your cum in my mouth," I added, feeling so wonderfully naughty as I spoke the words.

"Ooo," he responded, taking a breath. He shuddered a moment, then composed himself. "Show me that gash, baby, and you got a deal."

I grinned, ogling his crotch. "Show me yours," I said, lifting my hips as I pushed my jeans and panties down. "And I'll show you mine."

Marcus' eyes glazed as he took in my blonde bush. My pubic hair is just as light-toned as the hair on my head, maybe even more so, and I trim it just enough to wear a bikini. I trembled in excitement as I allowed a man to see my naked pussy for the first time ever. I had to bend and spread my legs to work my jeans and panties off my ankles, giving the shoe salesman glimpses of my pink.

"Oh, damn, baby," he breathed, reaching for his belt as he stepped out of his shoes. "I ain't never seen a real blonde before."

I arched an eyebrow, sitting up, keeping my legs splayed wide. I could feel how wet I was, and could smell my tangy scent as well, drifting up from between my legs. "Never?" I asked, petting my furry mound.

Marcus stared unabashedly at my cunt, licking his lips hungrily. "You got a real nice little beaver there, baby," he said, and shoved his khakis down. Marcus wasn't wearing underwear, and his thick, dark penis bounced heavily between his legs. He wasn't completely hard, not yet.

"Yeah?" I asked huskily, leaning back and pushing my hips out. Giving in to the moment, I spread my pussy open with my fingers, getting them wet, and exposed my little clit. "Think so?"

He grinned. "Let me show you how much," he said, moving closer. Each step he took seemed to make his cock grow and thicken, until it jutted out toward me. It was uncircumcised, with a dark pink head poking out from the foreskin sheath. Marcus' dick was the thickest I had seen yet. He had smooth-shaved balls, which made me curious, and trimmed his pubic hair to a small dense patch.

I sat up straight as he stopped before me, his legs between my own. I had the impression that he wanted to fuck. The head of his cock was within inches of my mouth as I looked up at him. "Wait," I said. "No sex, just head."

Marcus chuckled, and lowered himself to his knees. "Just what I had in mind, baby," his brown eyes glittering. Gingerly, he placed one hand between my breasts, gently pushing me back, as his other hand settled on my right thigh. My heart palpitated as I realized what he wanted to do. I eagerly spread my thighs as wide as they would go as Marcus kept his eyes locked on mine.

His hands slid down my body and up my thigh, meeting just above my sex. I started breathing heavily, anticipating the delights to come. The touch of his fingers running through my pubes and down over my swollen vulvae was electric, making me shiver. I actually heard my pussy lips slurp wetly, and so did Marcus.

"Damn, baby, you ready for this, ain't you? Oh, yeahohhmmm . . . ."

Oh, sweet Jesus in Heaven!I sighed deeply in pleasure as Marcus pressed his thick, soft lips to my dewy cunt, kissing it tenderly, lapping up my trickling juice with soft, slow passes of his tongue. I cupped my breasts, pushing up my top and bra, groping and kneading my tender mounds. Marcus watched my actions as he devoured me, his sucking growing more intent, his tongue probing deeper. I gasped, lifting my hips, when his tongue pushed into my virgin tunnel.

"Oh, God!" I cried out, rolling my hips, humping my lover's mouth. I watched his face, seeing the bliss registered in Marcus' features as he sucked and licked my juicy snatch. He made these sexy 'ummm' sounds in between smacking his lips and swallowing my fluid. I had never felt anything so incredible in my life.

My passion was ready to explode by the time his fingers peeled back the hood of my clit. The moment he pursed his lips around my button, pressing his chin to my slick lips and his nose into my soft blonde pubes, I started cumming. And cumming hard.

I bucked and gasped, shrieked and moaned, lifting my ass up off the chair and shoving my cunt hard against Marcus' mouth. I pinched and pulled on my nipples, something I had never done before when masturbating, but which accentuated the intensity of my orgasm.

Marcus sucked greedily on my flowing hole, licking deep between my lips and even passing his tongue down as he chased after dribbles of my cum. I hissed when his tongue wormed against my asshole for a moment, sending a charge through me. Marcus cupped my firm cheeks in his hands and licked up and down from my anus to my clit and back and forth, back and forth . . . .

I was trembling with aftershocks by the time I came back down. Marcus lowered my butt back onto the stool and stood before me. I panted, catching my breath, barely watching as Marcus began stroking his cock. He leaned over me, bracing his other hand against the wall above my head. His cockhead rubbed against my tits as he jerked off.

Inspired by the pleasure he had given me, I cupped my breasts around the head of his dick, making Marcus moan in pleasure. I licked his abdomen, kissed his flat navel as he pumped faster and faster. His skin tasted sweet and musky, stronger than any other man I had thus far tasted.

"Oh, baby!" he grunted, jacking faster and faster, pre-cum making his hand smack wetly along his shaft. "I'm gonna shoot, baby!"

"Mmm!" I moaned excitedly, ducking down and sucking hard on the head of his cock. Marcus gasped, shaking, and kept stroking, making my head shake as I hung on. I sucked out his pre-cum, finding it going from sweet and thin to bitter and thick.

"Oh, fuck, baby, suck it out! Eat my cum, girl! Fucking eat my – gahhhh!!!"

He pressed his other hand to the back of my head, jacking his shaft frantically. His cum gushed in my mouth, watery spurts of tart fluid that coated my tongue and shot to my throat. I moaned as I tasted it, and sucked desperately, slathering my gooey tongue all around the tip of his spitting dick.

I swallowed, then swallowed again, trying to catch all of Marcus' cream. Some of it overflowed my mouth and ran down my chin, dripping onto my abdomen and trickling into my pubic hair. I pushed my mouth down further on Marcus' cock, feeling my lips stretched by his girth, and worked my jaw like I was chewing his dick. Marcus slapped both hands against the wall and moaned loudly, letting me suck him for as long as I wanted.

I don't know how long I savored the taste and feel of Marcus' cock. I could have sucked on the thing all night, if he wanted. I felt it getting soft in my mouth, leaking out a little last bit of salty sperm that I lapped up. My entire mouth was wet and sticky by the time he finally pulled back.

"Oh, God damn, baby," he breathed, touching his flaccid penis. He chuckled. "That was so fucking hot. Thanks, gorgeous."

I grinned up at him. "No, thank you," I said, licking my lips. "And thanks for the boots."

Still tasting Marcus' pungent sauce in my mouth, I walked out of the back room several minutes later, carrying my new boots. I passed a couple of shop girls my age, who gave me dirty looks. Doubtless, they had heard the goings-on in the back room. Maybe they were jealous. Maybe they just thought I was a slut. I figured their reactions were a mixture of both.

I couldn't have cared less. I got what I wanted.

***

It amazes me now, when I think of it, how easily and boldly I plied my new trade. The mall was a big one, split-level with more than a hundred and eighty shops, offering everything from music and movies to soap and perfume. Pretty much anything I wanted was right there in the mall. And all I had to do was open up and say 'ahhh.'

"Can I help you with something, miss?"

"Oh, I'm just looking for some CDs. I really wanna expand my collection."

"Well, what are you interested in?"

"I'm interested in making a deal . . . ."

Smack! Smack! Slurp! Suck! Mmmmm . . . gulp!

In hindsight, I was probably a little too forward, too obvious. I might have gained the attention of the night owl cops who worked security. But I never did, no matter how many dicks I sucked.

My mouth earned me everything from silk sheets and shower curtains to cheap electronics and even a microwave oven. Now and then, I was given cash. The only time I ever paid for anything was when I went shopping for makeup and underwear, since those stores and departments were usually staffed by women.

I didn't worry about the ramifications or morality of what I was doing. I had become a new woman, and I loved every moment I spent on my knees. Often, I would strip to my waist when I could, and I was surprised at how many guys were turned on by my puffies. Sometimes, they would want to suck my tits, but usually, they just wanted to grope them while I went to work on their cocks.

And now and then, as with Marcus, and if I felt comfortable doing so, I'd show off my blonde pussy and either masturbate for a guy before blowing him, or, on occasion, enjoy the pleasures of his fingers and tongue.

More than once, I was all but begged to go all the way. One guy even went so far as to push me down on the floor in the storeroom of a sporting goods store and try to shove his dick inside me. I kept telling him 'no' over and over, but he just laughed and told me he'd pay me more to fuck me. He almost did it, too, before I kicked him in the balls and elbowed his nose. Afterward, I was aware of how close I had come to losing my cherry, and decided that I would be more careful with my tricks.

I didn't go a single day without getting at least one dick in my mouth. I had my favorites, guys I saw regularly when they had something to offer, guys like Marcus who always rewarded my carnal efforts with something they knew I wanted. There was Doug in the music store, who tripled my music collection by giving me any three CDs each time I saw him, and Randy at the bed and bath place who supplied me with sheets, silk pillows, and little trinkets for my bathroom.

And then there was Gary.

I had almost forgotten about the sexy older man, the married man with his hunter green Jag who had never gotten off from a blow job before he met me. About two weeks after our first time together, I was home on a Thursday night, having given up my shift to another server at work in order to study for mid-terms. I was doing well in all my classes except Economics, and I was determined to maintain at least a 3.5 GPA.

My cell buzzed in my purse, sitting on the couch in my tiny apartment. I ignored it at first, then got up and grabbed it when it buzzed again a few minutes later. The caller ID window was blank. I frowned, flipped my phone open.

"Hello?"

"Alyssa?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Um . . . it's Gary. You remember me?"

I smiled. "Of course I do," I said. "What's up?"

He laughed. "Well, I am," he said, then checked himself. "Sorry. Th-that was kind of rude."

I giggled. "Not really."

"I'd like to see you again," he said. I heard some muffled sounds of traffic in the background, figured he was driving. "Do you, uh, have some time tonight?"

I thought about it for about half a second. My brain hurt from all the studying. I realized I needed a diversion. And Gary offered a very tasty one. "Sure," I said.

He sighed in relief. "Great! I'm on my way. You wanna tell me what apartment you're in?"

Hmm. . . "I'll meet you at the gate," I said, and hung up quickly. I giggled, and ran into the bedroom, stripping off my baggy house clothes and looking for something tight and revealing. I found a pair of tight grey jogging shorts and a pink halter, and quickly tied my hair into pigtails. Looking like a naughty little girl, I snatched up my keys and a can of Diet Coke from the fridge, then jogged out to meet my guy.

***

Gary was panting and sighing as I nursed his spent dick, licking up the last little bits of cum that seeped out. I kept his load in my mouth as I sat up and grabbed his cigarettes. Lighting one, I inhaled the rich aroma of tobacco and semen, smiling in satisfaction. Only then did I swallow Gary's treat.

Gary just lay back in the driver's seat, making no move to cover up as he relished his afterglow. I snuggled against him, smoking my cigarette, letting him take a drag now and then. His hands lazily stroked my naked back and breasts as I let him kiss and gently suck my puffies.

"Damn, Alyssa, I can't believe how much you turn me on," he murmured. He chuckled. "I mean, it's not just that you're a gorgeous young woman . . . you are eighteen, aren't you?"

I giggled. "Wanna see my license?"

Gary smiled. "Jesus, half my age," he mused. He gave me a look. "You make me feel so young, you know that?"

I smiled back, thinking:don't get too close. "Gary . . . ."

"I know, I know," he said, pulling away to get a better look at me. "I really like the pig tails."

I giggled again, for effect, and shook my head back and forth, making my piggies bounce and sway. Gary laughed, then his face drained slowly, the smile fading.

"Why do you do it?" he asked me.

I pulled on my cigarette, blew smoke. "Do what? Get picked up like this?"

"Well . . . yeah."

I shrugged, "It turns me on," I said.

"Do you really like doing it as much as I think you do?"

I smiled coyly. "That depends. How much do you think I like it?"

He gave me a level gaze. "I think you can't go a day without giving head."

I bit my lip, smoldering my eyes. "You're right."

He took a deep breath, chest rising and falling. "I have a proposition for you," he said.

I regarded Gary suspiciously. "What's that?"

"Well," he said, folding his arms behind his head, obviously enjoying being half-naked in a car with a teenager, his dick hanging out. "I work for a systems analysis company. Basically, we're a bunch of geeks—"

"You don't look like a geek to me," I said, playfully touching his pudge. I kept my hand on his stomach and slowly slid it down.

He chuckled again. "A lot of the guys in my department are," he said. "I mean, some of them have essentially no chance whatsoever of getting laid in their entire lives. It's like that line from 'Real Genius.'"

I frowned. "Huh?"

Gary shook his head. "Never mind. Before your time."

I gave Gary a funny look as I began fondling his floppy penis. It was still wet from my mouth, and slowly responded as I lightly stroked it. "You saying you want me to do your whole department? How many guys are we talking about?"

Gary shrugged. "Around forty."

I gulped. "Wow."

"Not all at once, of course," he said, shifting his hips as his cock started to stiffen again. I smoked my cigarette and pulled on his dick, making it grow in my hand. I liked watching it get thicker and longer.

"See, what I was thinking was maybe a few guys at a time, maybe once a weekend," he said, his breath becoming more labored as I stroked his dick up and down.

"And they'll all pay?" I asked, getting turned on by the idea.

"Oh, trust me, they'll pay . . . ." his words drifted off, eyes fluttering closed as I pinched and massaged the sensitive head of his cock. A thick dribble of fluid oozed out, and I leaned over to lick it away.

An image flashed in my mind, then, garnered from some of the dirty magazines I had seen. An image of me, on my knees, surrounded by stiff, throbbing penises, dripping their sweet fluid onto my tongue. And me holding fistfuls of cash.

I trembled with excitement at the naughty idea. My pussy twitched. I realized I could not have refused Gary's Idea.

"Set it up," I whispered, stretching out to get comfortable. I handed Gary my cig, then nuzzled his balls with my lips while stroking his hard cock. I loved smelling the residue of sticky semen that had soaked into his pubes. The taste of it was sweet on my tongue as I rolled his heavy balls between my lips.

"Oh, shit," moaned Gary, threading his fingers through my hair. "God damn, you're a hot little bitch. Suck my cock, Alyssa. Suck it and eat my cum."

"Mmm . . . ."

***

I didn't hear from Gary again for another few weeks, and put his proposal from my mind. I was getting dick on a daily basis, as it was, satisfying my desire for cum. I figured, when Gary didn't call me back after a few days, that he had either changed his mind about the 'suck-a-thon,' or it didn't fly with his employees, or perhaps his wife had discovered he was stepping out.

But then, a few days after Halloween, Gary called again.

"Sorry I haven't called, babe," he apologized.

"It's okay. Not like we're girlfriend and boyfriend, you know."

"Of course. Been busy?"

"Just doing a lot of homework," I said.

"You're a student, huh? You never told me that."

I giggled. "Hard to talk with my mouth full."

He laughed. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Working."

". . . oh. You, uh, got regulars on the weekends?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I have a regular job," I said.

"Oh! Well, um, what's your schedule?"

"I'm off Sunday night."

"Really? That's perfect . . . that could work out."

"For?"

He paused a moment. "Did you forget what we talked about?"

"No, I didn't forget," I said, immediately feeling hot between my legs. "How many?"

"Four."

I breathed out. My pussy was literally dripping. I touched myself as I leaned back in my couch. "Including you?"

"Including me, five."

"Ummm," I whimpered, pulling my panties aside and stroking my slick lips. "How much?"

"Hundred each," he said. "I'll pay for the room and refreshments."

"Room?"

"Yeah. I'll get a motel room for the night. The guys will only stay as long as you want."

"Refreshments?"

He chuckled. "Whatever you want, babe."

"Mmm . . . strawberry vodka," I said, rubbing my clit.

"You got it."

"Gary."

"Yeah, babe?"

"Come over here and fuck my mouth."

". . . . I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Apartment 1604. Hurry."

"I'm leaving now."

***

Gary shuddered over me, his thighs buried in my arm pits, warm, sweaty balls resting on my chin. He grunted and groaned as his semen surged down my throat, which I automatically swallowed since I had him so deep. He pulled back a little, giving me one last warm spurt of fluid on my tongue. I sucked him for a few minutes afterward, until he softened and pulled out.

He rolled onto his back on my couch, curling his arms around me. I grinned, nuzzling his hairy chest, rolling that last heavy drop of cum on my tongue as I kissed his tiny nipples. I listened to his heartbeat pounding in his chest, gradually growing more calm.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Alyssa," he said, stroking my back and kissing the top of my head. "But I love you."

I lifted my face, staring into his. "What?"

He smiled. "I love being with you," he corrected. "Like I said, you make me feel young. And I know we could never have a serious relationship, but I just want you to know, in a way, I love you."

I smiled fondly, and kissed his lips. "Thanks, Gary," I whispered. "No one's ever said that to me before."

He frowned. "No one?"

I shook my head. "Well, not including my mom and dad."

"I find that hard to believe," he said. "I mean, what about boys you've dated?"

I sat up, looked for Gary's cigarettes. "Never dated," I said.

Gary didn't say anything as I lit up. I turned back to him after blowing out a cloud of smoke, saw the surprised expression on his face.

"What?" I asked rhetorically. "Look, I went to an all-girl high school, and my folks are pretty religious. I wasn't even allowed near boys growing up."

Gary fixed me a wondering look. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. "You're a virgin, aren't you? That's why you didn't want to have sex."

I looked away, feeling a little embarrassed. I suddenly wondered why I had even let Gary into my little apartment, my sanctum.

"Hey," he said soothingly, sitting up and rubbing my back. I sighed, giving in to his touch, and leaned against him. "Hey," he said again. "It's all right. I hope you don't think I'm disappointed."

I sniffled, feeling tears beginning to form in my eyes as my emotions welled up. "I guess it seems kind'a weird, doing this stuff with you, and I've never been popped."

"It's not weird," he said, kissing my temple. "You're an amazing young woman, you know that? When I first met you, I thought you were just another 'working girl,' albeit the most gorgeous one I had ever seen—"

"How many girls have you picked up?" I asked him suddenly.

"A few," he said heavily, sounding ashamed. "I never went out, intending to pick up a . . . a girl, but it just sort of happened."

"You don't have sex with your wife?"

He sighed, and uncurled his arms from me, taking out a cigarette from his pack. "Sometimes," he said, lighting up.

"I'm sorry," I said, wiping my eyes. "I shouldn't—"

"Can I be your friend, Alyssa?" he asked, interrupting me.

I thought for a moment what a strange question that was, but then realized the sort of 'professional' relationship we had. Up until now, Gary had been just a cock, and I was just a mouth. But now, he wanted to be a friend.

I smiled. "Sure."

Gary smiled. "I married Terry fifteen years ago," he said. "We dated all throughout college, got engaged on Christmas eve. She was only the third girl I had been with and I was the second guy she had known.

"We were in love once, and I think we always will be, in a way," he continued. "We've got two kids, a boy, Steven, eleven, and Joyce, nine. I like to think I'm a good father and husband, for the most part. But even at my age, having sex maybe once a month gets frustrating."

"That's why you pick up girls," I said.

He shrugged. "That's why I keep the option open," he clarified. "The first time it happened was about two years ago. She wasn't a girl. Just a woman I met in a bar, almost my age. The quintessential barfly. She was so drunk, she kept calling me 'Bobby.'" He laughed ruefully.

"I felt bad about it, and told my wife. She was mad at first, and I slept on the couch for about a week while she decided whether or not to file for divorce. I told the kids I was sleeping on the couch because I was sick and didn't want to infect mommy. I had to fake a cough the whole time.

"Then Terry decided that she wasn't going to file for divorce, that she understood that I had stepped out because she and I weren't having sex. For about a month, she tried to be more romantic and affectionate. I almost thought that we were getting back to the way we had been before Steve was born. But then it dried up again."

I tapped ash off my cigarette. "So . . . ."

"So . . . I was coming home from work one night, and I saw this young woman on the corner. I circled twice before I picked her up. It was funny. I was so nervous, I couldn't tell her what I wanted. But then she . . . picked up her skirt, grabbed my hand . . . I had to sneak back into the house and wash up so my wife wouldn't know. I think she knew, anyway, though she's never said anything."

I was quiet. I didn't know what to say. On one hand, I could sympathize with him, but on the other, I thought what a bastard he was for cheating on his wife. But it really wasn't my place to say anything. I was the 'other woman,' after all, and a prostitute to boot. I had no grounds for making any kind of moral judgment.

"When I first picked you up," Gary said. "I thought how lucky I was for finding you. You did . . .amazingthings to me, Alyssa. I couldn't stop thinking about you for weeks. I literally ached to be with you again. But with my wife, and kids, my job . . . I never had the time. But now I do. I know we're not going to have a real relationship, Alyssa, but I want to keep seeing you. And I want to be your friend."

I managed a smile. "So why the other guys?" I asked.

Gary grinned. "Just helping out a friend," he said. "I had the feeling, after that first time, that you were one of those rare girls who . . . well, who got off on cum. And I've always wanted to be part of a blow bang."

I laughed, rearing back. "'Blow bang?'" I asked. The term was new to me.

"Yeah," said Gary. "You've never heard of that?"

I bit my lip. "No. I've heard of gang-bangs, but—"

"Well, it's the same thing," said Gary. "Except it's just your mouth. Don't worry, Alyssa; I'll make sure all the guys know that your . . .down belowis off-limits."

I smiled, looking Gary over. I loved watching him smoke. He had a casual flair about it that reminded me of John Travolta in 'Michael.' Looking at him, naked in my living room, and still tasting his cum in my mouth, I was getting turned on again.

I leaned forward, stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray Gary had made out of a Diet Coke can. Then I eased back and lifted my hips, slipping off the one last article of clothing I wore. Gary watched as I dangled my panties from the tip of a finger and lay back, spreading my legs wide.

"It's not off limits to you," I said. "Just don't go too deep."

Gary moaned in arousal. "Oh, baby," he muttered, then went down, burying his face between my thighs. I grinned and cooed, holding onto the back of his head as my new friend went to work with his tongue.

"Mmm, yeah, baby, eat my pussy . . . oh, yeahhhhh . . . ."

***

I was anxious and nervous the following Sunday. All day long at work, I fidgeted in anticipation of the evening to come. Gary had called me that morning, giving me the address of the motel and the room number, assuring me that he would bring a bottle of strawberry-flavored vodka. He assuaged my fears that some of the guys would want to go too far, saying that they would feel 'blessed enough' to enjoy my mouth.

My nervousness was telling, prompting some of my coworkers to ask me if anything was wrong. I told them that everything was fine, I had just gotten news about a friend who was in the hospital. The lie helped deflect any further questions.

Once I was done with my sidework and other duties, I caught the bus home, showered carefully, and applied fresh makeup. I dressed in a tiny little green skirt I had purchased just for the occasion, and a tight white Oxford shirt. I tied my hair in pigtails again, and seeing myself in the mirror, I decided that I looked like a hot little slut schoolgirl. Every man's fantasy. I grinned.

Perfect.

Gary arrived at seven, and commented on my appearance. He could barely keep his eyes on the road, especially once I lifted my skirt to show him the absence of panties. I knew he wanted to pull over somewhere and let me work on him, but I could also tell he wanted to wait.

By the time we arrived at the motel, I had dripped so much that my little skirt sported a very obvious stain in the back. Not that it mattered; I wasn't going to be wearing it for long, I figured.

The guys were already in the room when we arrived. There were four of them, as Gary had promised. Two were tall and skinny, another was pretty short and a little pudgy, and the fourth was downright fat. But they were all cordial and nice, giving me looks as if they were in the presence of a goddess.

I slugged down a strawberry vodka cocktail, and Gary switched on a music station on the TV. Britney Spears' 'Pretty Baby' was playing. It seemed appropriate. As the guys watched, sitting on the edges of the two beds, I did a little strip-tease for them. I loved the way they stared at my body as it was revealed. They moaned and groaned when I showed them my firm tits and licked my fingers, polishing my puffies until they shined. The fat one, Saul, just about fell off the bed when I dropped my skirt.

I got up on all fours on one of the beds, and all five of them knelt around the end as I masturbated for them. I loved the attention, and spread my snatch open wide to let them get a good look. They made appreciative comments about the appearance of my pussy, never once using rude words like 'cunt.' When I came, spurting all over the bed sheets, they applauded. I actually blushed.

Then they stood and pulled out their cocks. Now it was my turn to swoon.

Gary was a little above average in size, I had come to realize, topping out at about seven inches. The two tall guys were both a little smaller – I found out later that they were brothers – and the short guy was average as well. But Saul . . . .

The fat man had a dick to match his body. Maybe it wasn't too long, but it was easily thicker than my wrist. I wondered if I would even be able to fit the thing in my mouth. But with enough spit and some adjusting, I did, and Saul moaned as I stuffed his beer-can cock as deep as I could take it. He all but passed out when I drank his seed the first time.

I was in heaven, sucking one dick, stroking two others, while various fingers and the occasional tongue diddled my horny snatch. I made the stipulation that the guys could do whatever they wanted, as long as it didn't involve penetration and as long as they got off in my mouth. They all agreed readily.

I gulped down load after load of sweet, thick sperm, even took one on my face before scooping it up with my fingers as the guys watched, and sucking my fingers clean. Gary spent a lot of time licking and sucking and fingering my dripping puss, making sure I came over and over. I rewarded him with a deep-throat blow job that had him literally exploding in my mouth.

The hottest part of the evening was when all five of them surrounded me, beating off and taking turns in my mouth. One by one they shot their loads onto my waiting tongue, until I had all five loads floating heavily in my mouth. One of the guys handed me my compact so I could see the erotic image of all that cum at once. I couldn't even see my tongue, there was so much milky fluid. I had to swallow twice to get it all down, and the guys cheered.

By the time I announced I'd had enough, each of the guys had cum at least three times. My mouth was tired and my tummy was full. I had swallowed so much dick sauce that I actually burped up sperm. I kissed the guys good bye as they left the room, even walked out naked onto the breezeway to wave them off. Saul gave me such a look of gratitude before he left that I was touched. Then I headed back inside, where Gary lay naked and waiting for me.

I crawled up atop him, straddling his hips, rubbing my pussy against his half-hard dick. It was the closest a penis had ever come to my virgin hole, but I trusted Gary not to take advantage of the situation.

"Thanks, Gary," I said, feeling heady from both the alcohol and semen I had consumed.

He smiled up at me, gently massaging my breasts and tilting his head to kiss and lick them. "You're welcome," he said. "I knew you'd enjoy it."

I breathed out, surrounded, saturated, with the aroma and flavor of sperm, and kissed his forehead. I was still turned on. I could have kept sucking the guys all night, but knew they wouldn't have been able to handle it. Besides that, my jaw was sore.

"I've got something for you," said Gary.

My eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

He chuckled, indicated his jacket hanging off one of the chairs. "Go get it."

I scrambled off him, excited, and rummaged through the jacket. I found a thick white envelope inside, and took it out. I looked to Gary expectantly. He nodded with a smile.

"Goody!" I exclaimed, jumping back atop him, making him grunt and the bed bounce. I opened the envelope, finding a stack of twenties inside. I counted the money quickly, grinning as I realized I held four hundred dollars in my hands. Not bad for three hours' work, I thought. It was more than I made in a week at the restaurant.

"There's something else," he said.

I frowned, and dug into the envelope. Something bulged against the side, and I pulled it out.

A ring. Gold, lined with tiny diamonds, with a blue butterfly centerpiece. I swooned, and my eyes watered. "Oh, Gary," I sighed, dripping tears down my cheeks.

He smiled, smoothing his hands up and down my body. "Call it a friendship ring," he said. "Go ahead, put it on. I think I got the size right."

I slipped the ring down my finger. It fit perfectly. I wiggled my fingers, looking upon the jewelry, then bent over and kissed Gary deeply. He responded immediately, kissing me back, wrapping his arms around me.

My body undulated atop his, and I felt his cock stiffen. Panting and moaning into his mouth, I slid my hand down between us, finding his dick with my fingers. I tilted it up, rubbing the head against my damp labia. Gary groaned.

"Oh, Alyssa," he sighed, grabbing my ass with one hand, the other pushing up through the hair on the back of my head.

"Do it, Gary," I panted. "F-fuck me . . . ."

I arched my back, rolled my hips, feeling my pussy spread open. The head of Gary's stiff prick pushed between my folds, sliding inside . . . .

"Oh, God!" I cried out, my virgin tunnel immediately clamping down on the intruder. I worked it a little, wincing, then sighing as the head popped inside. "Oh, sweet baby Jesus . . . ."

Never had I felt anything like this! Fingers and tongues were one thing, but this was acock! And it was pushing up inside me,penetratingme for the first time, probing deeper and deeper until . . . .

I yelped as I felt the barrier inside me stretched by Gary's penis, and pulled up. I stared down at his face, saw the mirror of my own shock and reluctance.

"You're not ready," he said.

I sighed, and cried again. "Oh, God, I-I'm s-s-sorry . . . ."

But Gary just smiled and slipped out of me. I moaned as my pussy was emptied, his slick cock sliding out and slapping wetly to his abdomen. Gary pulled me down and kissed me again. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. "You'll know when you're ready."

I smiled upon him through my tears. "I'm glad you're my friend, Gary," I said.

"I am, too," he said, and held me close.

***

Every Sunday evening, I 'entertained' Gary's employees, sucking and fisting their dicks until I received mouthful after delicious mouthful of creamy sperm. Maybe they weren't the most attractive men in the world, but they served up generous amounts of cock cream for my hungry mouth, and treated me like a princess on parade.

I would dance naked for them, give lap dances as they groped and fondled me, and masturbate before their eyes as a prelude to a wild round of cocksucking. Some of them licked and fingered me – always being careful, of course, not to tear my hymen – and such men received extra special attention in return.

I always went home satisfied and full, with Gary dropping me off on my doorstep and giving me a sweet kiss good night. We didn't talk about how close we had come to making love for the first time.

The holidays brought an abatement to our blow-bang weekends. I spent Christmas with my parents, and Gary was out of town with his wife and kids, visiting family 'back east.' I satisfied my carnal needs with the usual boys in the mall, but I missed the thrill of having multiple dicks at my disposal. I couldn't wait for Gary to come back.

***

My cell phone rang shrilly on New Year's day, rousing me from an alcoholic stupor. I had gone to a party the night before, hosted by Katie, a girl from work, and had ended up doing at least two, maybe three guys in the bathroom by the time the fireworks started. I barely remembered the blow jobs, clouded as they were by the fog of too much alcohol.

"Hullo," I grumbled.

"Alyssa, it's Gary."

I became awake instantly, even if I was still drunk. "Gary?" I slurred.

He chuckled. "Good party?" he asked.

I clutched my head. "Ffffuck . . . I think I got a hangover."

"You're not the only one."

"Where are you?"

"Still home," he said, referring to 'back east.' "I miss you. You okay?"

I smiled. Gary was so sweet. Even if he was married, he was a better boyfriend than I could hope for. "I'm fine," I said. "I didn't do anything crazy, if that's what you're asking. I'm still cherry . . . I think." I reached down, between my legs, and poked a finger in my hole, feeling around. "Yup. Still cherry."

"That's not why I called," he said. "I just wanted to say 'happy new year.'"

I imagined kissing him. "Gary."

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna be my first?"

I heard him breathe in. "Is that what you want?"

I sighed. "Well . . . you're kind'a like my boyfriend, right? Even if you are married."

"Alyssa . . . we talked about this."

"No, we didn't."

"Well, not aboutthis, but . . . you know what kind of relationship we have."

"Then why are you calling me at . . . eight-thirty-six on New Year's Day?"

". . . . ."

"Well? Do you or don't you?"

"It's not that simple, Alyssa—"

"Sure it is. Just come over, pop my cherry, it'll hurt a little bit but I'll be okay—"

"And then what?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You can't fall in love with me, Alyssa."

"I'm not—" I began, then stopped myself. I became defensive. "Oh, right. I forgot. I'm just yourfriend. You're favoritewhore."

"Alyssa . . . ."

"No, hey, it's all right. No big deal, right? You just let me know when you're back in town, so we can set up some more blow bangs. Happy fucking new year." I snapped my phone closed, then fell back into my silk pillows and cried myself back to sleep.

***

I heard the knock at my door a couple of days later, as I was getting ready for work. I was starting to hate my job. I worked too much and didn't have enough time to study. On top of that, I was being teased by guys at work about my New Year's Eve antics.

If only they knew the truth . . . .

I had just gotten out of the shower and answered the door clad in only a towel, my hair wet and slicked back. Something blocked the peep hole of my door, so I couldn't see who was outside. I opened the door anyway.

The first thing I saw was a big bushel of red roses. Then a pint bottle of strawberry vodka. Then Gary's sheepishly smiling face.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Damn it, Gary," I said, and snatched the bottle from his hand. I turned into the apartment, Gary following behind. He closed and latched the door.

"Peace offering?" he said.

I chuckled, and opened my towel, flashing him. "Piece offering?"

He laughed, and went into my kitchen, looking for something to put the roses in. I retied my towel and sat down on the couch, unscrewing the cap on the pint. I sighed at the taste and warmth of the vodka. I looked for my cigarettes, lit one.

Gary came back, the roses sprouting out of one of the big schooner glasses I kept in the cupboard. "Finally buying your own smokes, huh?"

I shrugged. "Well, you haven't been around to bum off of," I said.

He sat down beside me. "Are you mad that I went away for the holidays?" he asked. "You know I have a wife and family."

I sighed. "I know, Gary. And no, I'm not mad at you. I just . . . ." I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say.

He touched my arm, watching me as I drank and smoked. "Do you really want me to be your first?"

I took a deep breath, let it out heavily. I stared at my blank television. "No."

Gary didn't say anything. I got the impression he was a little disappointed. I knew guys were turned on by the idea of taking a virgin, and I guess, since my comment two days before, Gary had been thinking about it.

"I know this girl, in one of my classes," I said as Gary took out his own pack of cigarettes and lit up. "Julie. She's real cute, about my age. Actually, I think she just turned nineteen. Anyway, we're not really that close, but we hang out sometimes in the Quad. I don't know how we got around to it . . . we were talking about guys, I guess . . . but, she started telling me about her first time."

I tapped my cigarette over my new crystal ashtray (courtesy of Manny at the Waterford store and his surprisingly large penis), took another swig from the bottle. Gary was silent as he listened to me. "She didn't, like, go into detail or anything like that, but she was telling me how sweet her boyfriend was at the time, how it hurt at first but then felt so good . . . a couple weeks later, he dumped her. Just like that."

Gary sighed. "Men can be real assholes," he said.

I laughed sharply, tilted the bottle to my lips again. I was starting to feel a little buzz. I still didn't look at Gary, just continued with my monologue: "Ever since then, I've been thinking about it. About what my first time will be like . . . and about what'll happen after."

"And?"

I took a drag of my cigarette, another slug from the bottle. "Every girl I know, the story's always the same. They never stay with the guy who popped them. So, when you think about it, it doesn't really matter who I do it with." I finally looked to Gary. "Right?"

His eyes studied my face a moment. "Do you really think that?"

I nodded. "But you know what's funny?"

"What."

"I don't want it to be you," I said, making Gary frown. I smiled, touched his face. He had a little stubble. "I know that doesn't make sense, but it was something you said."

He nodded in understanding. "About . . . falling in love," he said.

"I really like you, Gary," I said earnestly, the alcohol loosening my inhibitions. "And I just know, if we did it, I'd start feeling . . ." I looked down. "I think I probably would fall in love with you. Even more than I already have."

"Oh, baby," he said tenderly, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggled close to him, breathing in his scent. God, he smelled so good. I closed my eyes, murmuring softly, wanting to just lay down with him and pull off our clothes, feel him pushing inside me. Iwantedthat. But I knew it would be the wrong thing to do.

"I don't know what to say, Alyssa," Gary whispered, petting my hair. "Like I said, I do love you, but we'll never—"

"I know," I said, pulling away. I gave him a little smile, letting him know I wasn't upset.

Gary just nodded, watching me as I drank again. He laughed softly. "Hey, don't go getting drunk."

I smiled mischievously. "Why not? Afraid I'm gonna jump you?"

He chuckled. "Actually, I'm hoping you will."

I laughed, sipped again. 'Casually,' I pulled on my towel and let it fall around my butt, exposing my body. Gary breathed in.

"Damn, Alyssa, you really have an incredible body," he said, looking upon me.

I smiled, spread my legs. "Look. I trimmed." Gary's eyes followed my hands as I touched my pussy. My lips were shaved smooth, and I had just a little strip of nearly invisible blonde pubes above my clitoris.

Gary reached over and touched me, tickling the edges of my pubic hair. "Very nice. No stubble," he commented.

I giggled and cupped his cheek. "Unlike you."

He blushed a little, keeping his hand on my puss. I squirmed a little, encouraging him to finger me. He did, sliding his middle finger slowly inside my tunnel. He kept it there, not moving it, just letting me enjoy the sensation. I bit my lip, closing my eyes a moment as I felt his finger curling a little bit inside me, massaging my snug, wet walls. I took a last pull from my cigarette, then stubbed it out.

"Get my phone, Gary," I said in a soft voice. "It's on the counter."

Gary looked, saw my phone, then smiled back at me. Gently, he eased his finger from inside me and sucked it as he got up. The alcohol was making me buzz, increasing my libido. I took another swig from the bottle.

Gary brought me my cell, and unbuckled his pants as he remained standing beside me. I grinned, hitting the buttons, dialing work.

"Hey, Sandy," I said, making my voice sound scratchy. "It's Alyssa. Can I talk to one of the managers?" I faked a cough.

"Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec."

I listened to bad Muzak as I watched Gary get undressed. He seemed to be a little trimmer around the middle. His penis was hard and shiny as it was revealed. Soon, he stood completely nude before me. I giggled softly when I noticed he had shaved his balls. I reached out and cupped the smooth, hanging orbs with my hand. Gary smiled upon me and petted my hair.

"This is Juan, how can I help you?"

"Juan," I said into the phone, and coughed again. "We got an on-call for tonight?"

"Not feeling well, Alyssa?"

"Not really. I think I'm getting something." I tickled Gary's balls as I spoke. "I think I'm getting it pretty hard."

"Don't worry, sweetie," my manager said. He always called me 'sweetie.' "We've got too many on the floor tonight anyway. You need someone to bring you anything?"

"Nah, I'll be okay," I said, moving my hand up to stroke Gary's cock. A thick, clear bubble formed at the tip. "I've got some juice. I'll make sure to drink it all."

"Well, if you need something, let us know, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Juan." I snapped my phone closed, and Gary laughed.

"Feeling sick, baby?" asked Gary, pulling my head toward him.

"Uh-huh," I said, parting my lips as I looked up at his face. "I need some medicine. Something thick and sweet to coat my throat."

Gary moaned as I started sucking him. "Mmm, baby, you're gonna get all the medicine you want . . . ."

***

"So, I got an idea," I said half an hour later, as Gary recovered on the couch. I had swallowed most of his cum, but a little had oozed out from the corner of my mouth and dripped down my chin. I didn't bother wiping it away as I lit another cigarette and sipped from the bottle of strawberry vodka. I glanced to the two twenties Gary had left on the table. He was getting a reduced rate these days.

"What's that, babe?" he asked, stroking my naked back.

"Well, I've been thinking about it. About doing it," I said.

"And?"

"And . . . I don't wanna worry about whether or not the guy's gonna stick around. I don't wanna fall in love with him. I want it to be someone I'll probably never see again."

Gary frowned. "You sure about this?"

I nodded as I took another sip of the vodka. "Think about it from my point of view. If I never see the guy again, I won't fall in love with him. I'll just have this wonderful memory of my first time, and that'll be that."

"How are you going to make sure it'll be wonderful?" he asked.

I smiled knowingly. "I'm not.Youare."

Gary frowned. "Huh?"

I shifted on the couch, facing him. "Okay, this is what I'm thinking: You know a lot of men, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Right . . . ."

"And, unless I'm wrong, guys in your field make bank. I mean, you make a lot of money, right?"

Gary shrugged. "I do pretty well," he said.

I smiled slowly, the idea in my head making me excited. "I wanna have an auction."

He blinked. "A what?"

"An auction," I repeated. "Highest bidder gets to pop me."

Gary sat up, staring at me with an alarmed look. "Whoa, Alyssa, hold on a sec—"

"No, I'm serious," I said vehemently. "I wanna do it this way. You let all the guys you work with know that my virginity is for sale, and we'll see who's got the deepest pockets."

Gary didn't seem too thrilled by the idea. "Alyssa, think about this. You can't just . . .sellyour virginity."

"Why not?" I asked in that simple way.

"You just . . . can't. I mean—"

"Look," I said. "Every girl wants her first time to be special. I'm no different. I'm going to remember the first time I have sex for the rest of my life, so I wanna do it right." I started ticking off on my fingers. "I want champagne, roses, a nice hotel suite, a limo ride . . . and dinner. And then I'll do anything the guy wants, all night long."

Gary stared at me, reading my face. "You're serious."

I nodded firmly. "As a heart attack."

He looked dumbfounded. "And . . . you want me to set it up."

"I'll give you twenty-five percent," I said.

Gary looked startled. "Well . . . wouldn't that make me . . . ."

I giggled. "My pimp? Yup."

Gary looked away, taking up his cigarettes. "I don't know."

I snuggled close to him, licked and kissed his ear. "You can be my second," I whispered suggestively.

Gary shuddered. His cock twitched. I reached down and stroked it, caressing his smooth balls with my fingertips.

"I-I'll think about it," he said.

I kissed my way down his body. "You do that," I said, and submerged his dick in my mouth, loving the feeling as it grew hard against my tongue. "Mmmm . . . ."

. . . to be continued . . .