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The Walk after a Busted Date part 1 of X

lesliestone — Tue, 01 Mar 2016 04:16:57 UTC

It was a Friday evening about eight just before the sun was about to set on a pleasantly cool evening. The brisk air kept me comfortable since my body was a little warm from being nervous with the coming scenario. I was going to meet Phil, my date, as a hooker. We have been planning on this for a few weeks and our schedules finally matched enough to make it happen.

The club I was going to served a very eclectic clientele and right now, there were free line dancing lessons with the 70's top 40 songs. The Village People, to Sat Night Fever, Abba, and the Bee Gees were some of the groups. No doubt, some of the folks in there were just like me. A CD Milf on the prowel and were most likely going to get their prey. But crap, did the place have to be so popular? The nearest parking was 2 blocks East of the club. Not so bad though, I guess. After checking in the mirror to check and apply a dab of my red "fuck me" lipstick and any stray hairs on my head, I left the van and proceeded to the club.

"Relax," I said to myself. "Get loose, elbows in, knees in, sway the hips a little." Something must have been right enough to elicit a short "Toot-toot" of a car horn as it passed me by. It startled me a little but only after I realized why, the first butterflies of the day took off. They honked at me for my looks. To get my attention. Cool!

I slowed my walk down a little to see if I would get another before I made it to the club. I was walking with the traffic so they could only see me from behind. Sure enough there were more than a few toots get feed my ego. I wondered, "How many know what I am like under these clothes? I had on 3 inch black boots, fishnet stockings that were attached to garters under a black mini-skirt. The 3-4 length sleeve blouse had fishnet arm warmers as well as my 'net chemise was the same net as everything else. Black and white all around. I really did feel slutty and must have looked like a hookers that frequented this city. To be desired for sex in such a way, like an instrument to get off on, is a feeling that no other activity could muster. Kinda like when I'm in bondage and I couldn't do anything but take it like he wants me to. But here, it's alittle different. I'm meat just the same but literally, now just a tool.

Hey. Was that the same car that honked at me 5 minutes ago?

Not too many folks were out in this are since it was mostly an office like district during the day so I was a little nervous about the man approaching me slowly in front of me. He paused about twenty feet away. He looked at me up and down. I managed a smile. He frowned and turned and walked away. I began to feel unwanted and ugly. Cold and alone. I hated that feeling. I was rejected like that before. They were expecting someone like Christy Brinkley with a little extra in the skirt and even though they get a pic of me before.... Grrrr! I pisses me off thinking about it.

Deep breath. Walk to the club. Easy. Easy. I think it must have parked 3-4 blocks away instead. Ah well. Another block to go.

"Toot-toot." Startled me out of my wandering thoughts. I looked over and there was that same car again. I'm sure of it. It pulled up next to me matching my pace and I heard, "Hey Sweetie. You wanna take a ride with me?"

"Who me?" I said increduously.

"Yeah you. You're the only sweetness I see walking out here. Just a sec." he called out as he pulled into an access alley in front of me.

There he was. Blocking my way to my destination with my date waiting for me. Sure. Why not. See what he has to "Offer" and say I have an "appointment" with a client in a few minutes to get rid of him. Cool thing to do! I'm bein' the hooker I am goin' to play later. Except this wasn't play. This guy was for real. Deep breath.

I leaned onto the passenger window sill and looked at a cute younger guy who seemd a little nervous. Problably just as much as me. Good thing I was on the other side of the door so he couldn't see that my legs were visibly shaking.

"I need some directions. I need to get off at the I-69 highway and wandering if you could give me a hand? he said confidently emphasizing "Hand." Apparently he has done this before with the smooth way it came out.

I stammered out something about my appointment and that I may be around later. He just smiled at me as he pulled away down the alley onto the other street. That made me feel a little better than a few minutes ago when the other guy did his thing. Is this the way a street girl feels? The ups and downs of the customer rejecting or accepting you? I'm guessing it is.

Thirty minutes later after finishing my favorite shot, a lime gimlet, (A quarter lime juice and three quarters gin) I was still waiting for my date to show up. I must have looked interesting enough for a few guys would come up to the little table I was sitting at and ask if I would dance with them. I hate to see a guy's body just collapse a little like that when they get a "No" as polite as it was.

Another ten minutes later I beging to feel a little self-conscious. Nobody else came up to me. My date didn't show. A thousand thoughts went through my head. Was he like the guy on the street who just shook his head and walked away. A little lump formed in my throat and before I get all worked up about it, I headed to the door to go outside for a little fresh air.

"Ahh. I needed that. Freedom from the thoughts, the sights and sounds of the club, and a lungful of crisp air." I thought as I aimlessly wandered along the sidewalk. It must have been aimless because it was in the opposite direction from where I parked.

"Toot-toot!" said the car next to me as it interrupted my wanderings the another familiar voice said, "Your appointment over?"

It was the young man from before. He pushed the passenger door open for me and I heasitated. Frozen in time knowing exactly what this man wanted.

"Well? Get in."

I did exactly that and after a few minutes of silence while driving down the street, he turned into a side street and to the back delivery area where no one can be seen from the street. My heart was aflutter and my mind was racing to keep up.

The next thing I heard from him was, "Can you give me hand with directions. I think I'm a little lost." He peered at his crotch the right into my eyes then moved his seat back to give me the proper room to do what he, I think he wanted.

It isn't like this is the first time I have done this. Just this time, this guy think's I'm a hooker. A real one for sure! I better do what he suggests. I've heard stories of girls getting beat up for not going along and I don't have a Pimp for protection either.

I unzipped his pants, and started to pull his cock out, which was actually pretty difficult because his cock was already hard and wouldn't bend much. As I was trying to work it out, he was responding by getting even harder. There...push his trousers down...to the side a little...watch the zipper!.. bend...ahhh, success!

I finally got his cock out and started gently stroking him off. I was really trying to focus on the head of his cock, which was obviously extremely sensitive since a passing dry rub would make him jump. I deftly worked a bit of spit in my hand and used that for lubrication. Must have worked since his cock definitely kept getting harder as I played with it and worked on it, and I soon found myself wanting really badly to lean over and see what that big hard rod would feel like to suck on, and to have him cum really hard in my mouth. He just wanted a hand job so a hand job he will get, by golly!

He was leaking a lot (a lot) of pre-cum on my hands, and was definitely ready to cum. No more saliva was needed for this bad boy but I wanted him to get his moneys worth and so I slowed down to make it last. His ideas were different than mine! His hips started pushing and he got moaning loudly like a volcano's rumble before the eruption. His eyes were occasionally closing while I hept mine open staring at his rock solid hard meat in my hands. His hips were starting to push back and forth as he literally began to fuck my hands. I wanted so badly to suck on his super hard cock so I was trying not to let him cum while I was deciding what to do.

I realized we haven't said anything since we stared. I managed to blurt out just one thing, "Yeah Baby. Cum for me!" in my best fem sexy voice I can muster.

Not sure if that was the trigger but his cock let loose a gob of pre-cum over the back of my hands. At that very instant, I made a decision. I squeezed one hand tightly on Jim's thick cock shaft and lightly grabbed his cock head with my other hand and started pumping really fast. He rolled flat on his back and started raising his hips off the seat as he got ready to cum.

I had also just made the decision to wrap my mouth around his huge cock and suck every drop of his load out but it was already too late. The very instant I started moving closer to his cock so I could suck him off, he blew the biggest load of cum that I had ever seen. There were cum spots on the car window (really!), the car door (I had at least some thought to not let him cum all over himself) there was cum running on my hands as I kept pumping, and by the time I managed to get his huge cock head into the my mouth, only a very few remaining slurps of cum continued to ooze out of his gorgeous big cock, which felt warm, huge, hard, with tasty goodness throughout flowing throughout my mouth. I sucked on him and played with him between my lips for a few more minutes before I went back to sit in my seat.

He let out a long and moaning sigh before he said, "That was fucking awesome. But dammit. I'm gonna have to was the lipstick off of my cock before I go home. The cum on the doorI can wipe off easy enough. Bu the lipstick is going to take some work. Get out of the car now and take our fucking money before I think about it too much and get mad!" He threw a couple of twenties at me and I didn't hesitate to exit like a tree, and leaf!

As I was walking back in the direction of the club, about a dozen blocks away by now, I was thinking, "Yeah, his girlfriend or wife would be pissed if lipstick would be found on his dick. Gotta to remember to do only what the guy asks next time." Then I cought myself! "Did I say next time?" I did have fourty bucks to my name and a nice aftertaste of a hard cock. Hmmm.

It wasn't long until I heard it again... "Toot-toot!"

Leslie

(ps. I really like to role play and if you are somewhat local to me, leave me a message about this story if it gives you any ideas)

How I became a whore

anonymous — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 11:00:20 UTC

My name is Megan and, as you would guess from the name Scottish. I am 5ft 5”, blonde and 36:32:34 and men tell me I am pretty. Although Scottish my family moved to West London when I was 5, so I speak with a London accent. This is the story of how my journey from a working class wife to become a prostitute, no coercion and no drug addiction, just circumstance and good luck!

My relationship with Phil, my husband was going from bad to worse, we had got married when he was 21 and I was 17 and it was good for a couple of years, then he started drinking more and staying out. I think he was also seeing other women but I don’t know for sure, Phil worked on building sites and sometimes worked away from home. Money was also an increasing strain, I had been working in a shop but they had gone bust, we got some compensation but it didn’t add up to more than a couple of weeks money and soon run out. I have tried for jobs but there is nothing about and I don’t even rate an interview when one turns up.

Six months ago he came home from a job in Southampton and a row started, for the first time he slapped me, after which he apologised. But this happened a couple of more times over the next six weeks. It came to a head a week ago when Phil came home drunk and was looking for a fight. He started that the flat was a tip, then I was a lazy cow and a tart, he slapped my face hard enough to knock me off my feet, he then grabbed me by the hair and punched me full force in the stomach a couple of time, I was unable to fight back and he ripped my jeans and pants down and raped me up my arse. Although he has tried when making love in the past we had never had anal sex and I was still a virgin there.

I shocked and was in pain, but he pulled me up by my hair and threatened to give me more of the same if I did not shape up. He told me get my jeans up and get his tea. I was crying and scared so did what I was told. Somehow I got through the evening and we went to bed that night as if nothing had happened. He was at the next couple of days and acted as if nothing had happened, I did too and was careful to not do anything to annoy him. The next day Frank was starting on a new site that was fairly local in Feltham so left at about six in the morning telling me he would be home about 5:00 that evening.

Packing a bag with a few clothes and essentials I fled the home and, having no money, caught a train to Hounslow which is only 2 or 3 miles away. I went to a café and sat down with a cup of tea and thought what I could do but not really coming up with anything. I could not contact my father was an alcoholic who thought the man should rule the home and thought Frank was a real man, my mother had died the year before I married, perhaps that was what drove me to marry. Finally, I gave Isobel, an old school friend who, I had not seen for over three years a ring,. Fortunately her mobile number had not changed. Though tears told her of my situation, and she told me not to worry and offered to let me stay with her for a bit.

She gave me directions to her flat in Hammersmith where she welcomed me. Isobel shared the flat with her friend Angie who had made herself scarce so I could talk. Isobel told me not to be shocked but explained her and Angie actually worked as prostitutes. She told me that she had not been forced into it but it was her choice and that she enjoyed it, she worked at a house in Barnes two days a week and a Flat in Baker Street one day as it was best not to work where you lived.

After about a week I had settled in and felt I needed a job as I could not scrounge of Izzy, I had gone to the benefits office and signed on but that gave me £45 a week so would not even cover food yet alone a contribution to the rent! Angie suggested one night that the Parlour in Baker Street needed a “maid” and that this would give me £200 a week but did not involve sex work, just answering the phone, cleaning and receiving clients. This seemed fine, I certainly did not want to become a sex worker but had no moral objections and could do that. I was taken on working four days a week from 11:00 am to 10:00pm weekdays and 11:00 to 12:00 Fridays and Saturdays. This went on for several weeks but I was over what had happened to me and starting to feel like sex again. Working in a Parlour I was wondering what it would be like to be paid for sex with strangers and if I could do it. I asked some of the girls about what it was like, both Angie and Isobel told me they loved it bot you had to want to do it, if not it would be a disaster. They explained that they had never had any trouble with men but it was a possibility, they showed me all I needed to know. Finally, after a few weeks of thinking about it I decided to try, and offered to do a shift to see if I could do it and what it was like.

The day came and I was nervous. Finally I got to the Parlour and Isobel had selected my clothing, tiny black lace pants, black patterned hold up stockings, a black Basque with red lining a see through black negligee. I had been waiting about half an hour when the first client came, normally, the client would choose which of the two girls on he wanted but Felicity, the other girl on, told me as it was my first client it would be best for me to get it over with otherwise I would get more tense and nervous.

The client, Roger, was about forty and seemed more nervous than me. He told me I was beautiful and would like oral leading to sex. He gave me the £120 fee and I told him to take his clothes of and I would be back in a minute. I gave the money to the maid, who kept the takings, and went back. I lay on the bed next to Roger and caressed him for a bit, he caressed me, kneading my breasts and exploring my pussy.

Take my pants down” I whispered in his ear, he removed my pants and I rolled over and got a condom which I put on him, I then positioned myself so I could take his rock hard member in my mouth whilst he could squeeze my breast and buttocks. I rubbed up and down on his shaft, rolling my tongue on his member, stopping a couple of times so he did not get too excited. It was then his turn to work, I rolled on to my back opening my legs and told him to fill me. He needed no second invitation and lay on me slipping his tool deep into my soaking cunt. I dug my fingers into buttocks telling him to push harder and that he was wonderful and then, to my surprise, I experienced one of the strongest orgasms of my life, as I organised Roger did too and we collapsed into a pile, cuddling and kissing for 3 minutes or so. I then broke off, kissed him tenderly on the cheek and we cleaned up with wet wipes. Roger got dressed and left, again kissing me on the cheek as he went.

And that was my first time as a prostitute. Five more clients followed that day and they were all different. I soon gave up being the maid and became a whore which I love. Moneywise life is good with me earning between £1200 and £2000 a week, I am a good girl and pay my taxes and love seeing my accountant, and apparently I am a part time model, demonstrator and magician’s assistant!

I have no complaints and make a good living – the money is fabulous but I know it will decrease as I get older so am building up a small no of properties and putting some money investments so when the time comes I cannot earn the money I will have a future. Mind you there is a market for mature ladies so I hope to still work whilst laying on my back till my 50s or 60s even if the pay will be less.

Looking For A Whore

urguyscott — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 22:46:27 UTC

Looking for a Whore Daddy is driving along the downtown strip looking for some pussy. I am horny with your mother away and need some ass to get rid of this raging hard on. I see a sweet thing in short shorts and a halter top and stocking with red heels. I think there is one hot piece of ass.

I pull the car over and the street whore bends down on the passenger door to talk business.

I don't know who is more shocked. You or me.

"Daddy??"

"Baby!!!!! What the hell? Get in the car."

You obey like a good little girl and sit in the passenger seat of my truck. It has a bench seat and you press yourself against the passenger door. I look your body over, and find the cleavage of your young tits and the sexy legs just make my cock stiff.

"What are you doing here? Dress liked that?" You sit there blushing and as you take a deep breath I watch your breast expand and the site makes me want you more. I know this is wrong, but I can't help it. I need some cunt and now I have a chance to make my own daughter my whore.

"Look baby. We both are doing something we shouldn't. What say I go park somewhere and we talk about this. Is there a spot you go with your other......"

You look at me and I at you. "Sorry. Is there somewhere safe we can go?'

"Yes, drive up to the gas station and then down a dirt road just beyond. I go...."

This time I smile. "You go there with your other customers?"

"Daddy you aren't a customer. You're my...."

"Yes I’m you daddy. But I'm a man too. How much do you charge to let men slide their cocks into your mouth or up your cunt?"

"Dad, we can't. I mean it's wrong."

"Wrong? Everything about this is wrong. You are a whore. And now I am you John. Outside the house I will pay you like any other customer. But when we are home that cunt of yours is mine. There you are my daughter and I take you whenever i desire. Now how much for a suck and a fuck?"You get red in the face, anger takes over your shame. “I charge $40 for a blow job and a $100 for a fuck. And you better have a condom.”I laugh and say “Sounds fair darling. Of course a daddy should get a discount. But I’ll pay. I want both. After, well we will talk. How long have you been doing this?”“My roommate talked me into it. She has been doing it since she started college. It pays for her classes and room and board. I told her how times were getting hard for us and she told me to at least try it. You would be amazed at how many men and even women want some….. some strange pussy.”“Kitten you are beautiful and so sexy. I have to admit I have been looking at your body in a not very fatherly way for some time, but I never thought I would want you like this. Touch my leg. Feel how hard you have made me.”My little whore puts her hand on my pants leg and rubs the bulge that she has created. It moves to her touch and grows longer. I let out a soft moan. “Ohhh, shit Kitten. Suck my cock like a whore. Make me cum. And then we’ll go get a motel room and I’ll make sure you earn your money. I love you darling and I don’t care that you have become a slut whore. As a matter of fact I think I am going to like it. Some day you’ll have to bring your girl friend along. But now sweet heart lets go find that spot. I think just the idea of having you give me a blow job where you give your other customers will make it so much kinkier.”

I follow your directions and we end up in a dirt lane hidden from the road. I want to ask how you found this spot, but don’t. I turn to you “Take off your top darling. I want to see your tits. I would love to play with them as you suck me down your throat. You’ll have to tell me when you lost your cherry sometime.”

“Money first daddy.”

“Ohhh, my little girl has grown up to be a smart whore. Yes, money first.” I pull my wallet out and pull out $180 in twenty’s. “Here, forty for the blow job and one hundred for the full thing plus tip.”

I watch you count the money which makes me a little upset, but I understand this is a business deal and you slide it into your stocking. You reach for my zipper and pull it down. Just before you put your hand inside to pull my daddy cock out I stop you. “Your top darling. Remember?” You sit up and pull your top over your head and your tits bounce as they are set free. My eyes get big as I take them in and savor the firm round globes of flesh. “Ohhh baby, your tits are so beautiful. You really are a hot looking woman. Now you can have my cock.”

You pull it out and hold it. Watching it as it throbs and moves in your delicate hand. I take a deep breath. In my mind I know this is all wrong in so many ways. Most of all it is incest. But it’s not my mind that you hold in your hands, but my cock and it needs you and doesn’t care if you are my daughter or a whore. You bend down and take the head between your lips. Push your tongue against the piss hole. Then hold it up and lick the underside. One hand cups my balls as you bring it back to your lips and take half of my cock into your warm mouth. I reach down and cup your swaying breasts and squeeze them.

You suck on me, drawing my cock into your mouth. I can feel your tongue on it. You move one hand to the base of my cock and as you slide my shaft in and out of your mouth you jack me at the same time. I can’t help but moan as I savor fucking your sweet face.

I play with your nipples, pulling on them, pinching them, rolling them between my fingers as you put pressure on my cock with both your hand and your mouth. I want this to last, but I feel like a young school boy getting his first blow job. It isn’t long before your practiced mouth has me shooting my load down your throat. I cry out and squeeze your tits hard as I send my seed to your belly. You keep sucking and sucking and draining me till you have all of my cum. Then you let it pop out of your mouth with a wet sucking sound and look up at me. I can see my cum on your tongue and you move it around in your mouth and then swallow it. I release your tits and lean back in my seat trying to catch my breath. I turn my head and look over at you as you slip your top back on and adjust it around your tits.

“Sorry baby, I should have warned you I was going to shoot my load. Damn you are good. What a hot cock sucker. I know as your dad I should ask how you learned that, but it would just make me jealous. But I am sorry about cumming in your mouth without warning you. I know you whores….. I mean….”

“It’s OK daddy. Yes we prefer to spit it out, but you are my daddy and I wanted to swallow your cum. You aren’t mad at me are you? I know this is all wrong. I’ll quit if you tell me too.”

“Baby, you are old enough to do what you think is best. I will worry about you being on the streets like this and I’ll be honest. I want you. I want to fuck you. I want you as my little family whore, but I understand you need money and if daddy could I would make you my Mistress. But as long as you can give your old daddy a good lay once in a while I’ll understand. Now shall we find a motel so I can fuck my hot little cunt whore?”

end part 1

For my Family

de_gr — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 06:59:08 UTC

This story happened when I was 23 and a university student.

My father was diagnosed with cancer and as you can imagine this was a huge blow for as mentally but also financially. Fortunately we had help from the start Dr.S, who was our family doctor for many years. A long time friend of my father and above all an excellent doctor, Doctor S was very helpful from the start. He took over the all the medical test' and used his connections so that my father could got the best treatment.

I was watching all this unfold without been able to do anything other than showing a brave face for my family.

Two weeks after the diagnosis Dr. S asked me to visit him. My fathers was about to start chemotherapy and I thought he wanted to talk to me about that but it was about money instead. When he told me how much all the treatments had cost and how much more were needed I felt that it was my responsibility to make it happen. My siblings were very young and my mother was uneducated and really passive to take any initiative.

He reminded me many times how many thing he had done pro bonno for my father and told me that financially this had the power to destroy us, unless we had some help.

He also tried to make me feel like the fate of my whole family was on me. He took my hand on his and all his gestures screamed that he wanted to propose something but he didn't.

The following week he kept our interactions to the minimum, he was distant and let the bills come at my parents house. I figured we could pay them but I would have to move with my parents and in the end it would leave as completely broke.

Dr S called again and I didn't hesitated to ask him if he wanted to fuck me.

He reacted and said that he truly cared about me and he wasn't making a one time raunchy proposal.

We met at his surgery the same day. His secretary who for some reason never liked me showed me to his office and locked as in before she left.

'Yes I will be your lover” I told. I could see the question trampling in his lips.

He gave me one of his rare smiles and said we should get started. I undressed and he did a thorough examination of my body for anything that would indicate the presence of STD's and even drew blood for further testing. I gave a detailed report of my previous lovers and what we had done.

I promised to be careful with the pill and be faithful so he wouldn't have to use a condom.

He pulled out his erected cock and stood in front of me stroking his cock. When he was about ready to cum he told me to open my mouth wide until his cum streamed in my open mouth again and again. He turned up the thermostat and told me to lean back and masturbate until I had an orgasm.

“A true prostitute cannot hide herself” that's a saying from my country and I felt that it suited me well.

I hadn't realized how horny I got and it was embarrassing. I had to restrain myself so I wouldn't put to much of show for him. I touched and caressed every part of my body while I could still taste his cum in my mouth, I leaked my boobs and fucked my pussy until I had an orgasm. After my masturbation he cummed again in my mouth and send me home for a night sleep.

On my way home I couldn't explain why I felt ok with what I had done. I realized that the circumstances had brought me quickly closer to him than any other lover I ever had. He had already checked every part of my body and even took my blood, he had cummed twice in my mouth, he was honest about what he wanted and what he was offering. With most men you have to struggle to reach that point. I didn't know what it says about me but in the end I decided had a truly great time that night and it was the first time I felt alive since the start of my fathers ordeal.

When my blood test results came negative we had our first full intercourse. I visited him at his apartment where I was surprised pleasantly for the second time. I expected a cold unfriendly place but instead I found that the 45y doctor had a proper love nest. We made love at his king size bed and the following morning he fucked me again while denting over in toilet ball.

Unknown to my family I kept meeting Dr. S at his work and home, sometimes staying there for weekend's or whole weeks. Dr S had become my full time lover and I gave myself to him in every opportunity. Sometimes I felt used but I liked him making love to me and didn't want that to stop.

When the end came for my father after the funeral I wanted to go home but instead of going to my parents place I instinctively went to his apartment and stayed there for a month making love to him even though I didn't have to anymore.

The summer he took me to vacations in Greece and from there we curried on like that until I finished my university degree.

Interview with mother-daughter prostitutes

teresaj — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 21:31:53 UTC

We're in a South Side Mexican bar this evening in San Antonio, where I've found a curvy young latina having a drink with her mama.

And she's just told me she is a prostitute. Her mama got her into the business. And she's agreed to an interview, so I'm excited. Let's get into this juicy story now. What is your name and age, and tell me a little about yourself.

"Tania Zamarripa. I'm 19. And I'm a hottie, ha ha haa!"

You giggle a lot?

"Mmmmm, I like to laugh. I like to enjoy life!"

So, you don't have a pimp, cuz I'm guessing you wouldn't enjoy life if you did?

"No, no. Unless you count my mama! Ha ha!"

Tania, I'm going to say you're about 5 feet 4 inches tall, oh about 125 pounds and what's your measurements?

"I'm 38C-26-40. And I weight 128 actually. You were close."

Greenish brown eyes! So pretty. Your skin is very nice. She's wearing charcoal black boy-shorts and a skimpy purple tank top that shows off a lot of skin. You do draw attention, don't you.

"Yes! But it's a slow night. You can see the bar is almost empty."

Well, it is a Monday night. Are you here every night?

"Every night, yes. Seven nights a week."

*This is our home away from home.*

That is mama speaking. Mama, what's your name? And some description.

*I got by Gata, like cat, or pussy if you want to stretch the meaning. It's short for Agatha. My last name is Morales. I gave my daughter her father's name.*

So, you are married or were married?

*No, never married. He was just my boyfriend, but he's the father so I gave her his name. I'm 5 feet 3 inches, 140 pounds, got a little midriff here (she pinches the belly roll) My measurements are 40D-32-42. I have brown eyes and extra long fake eyelashes.*

Mmmm, yes, you do look slutty. You like that look?

*Oh yes, no false advertising! Ha, ha haaa .... mmmm.*

And both of you have tattoos, tell me about them. Oh, first, let me just say Gata has on a leopard print minidress and brown high heels and fishnet stockings. Gata is standing up and pulling up her dress, showing us her red thong and there just over her shaved pussy is the outline of a cat's head with three whiskers on each side. Go on.

*Here on my right butt cheek is a red butterfly, and in the small of my back, a tramp stamp. It's a ram's head with the horns curling out and downward to my hips, they outline the upper part of my ass. (She turns and pulls down the top of her dress to show her luscious tits (big nipples omg! She is bouncing them up and down with her hands). A mushroom on my breastbone - to suggest a cockhead, just a little symbolism. (She turns her head and pulls back her hair and on the side of her

neck is the word in cursive script 'Puta' (Whore)). My marketing brand, Puta, come on boys, you know what I am. (She turns her back to me again and grabs her hair into a pony tail to reveal) And this is my black vampire bat wings on her shoulder blades. (She puts her leg up on the chair) And here on my right ankle is a red she-devil with her horns and red pointy devil tail wrapping around my ankle. That's all of mine.*

Wow, they are impressive. And Tania, how about you? She stands up and turns around. Oh my, snakes!

"Here I have two rattle snakes. There rattlers, you see, are at the bottom of my calf muscles and their bodies go up the back where the seam of my stockings would be and their heads turn in just under my butt. I have to open my stance so you can see, can you see? (Yes, the head's are in the back part of the inner thigh just below the pussy, mouths open and showing dripping fangs .. she pulls down her shorts to show the rest)"

Their tongues actually reach your puffy shaved pussy!

"Yes!" (PUlling up her shorts) "Now over here."

Tania is pointing to her back. Her tramp stamp is two cocks crossing each other like swords. they have studded balls resting on the center tops of her ass, and the cocks have ropes of cum coming out the tips that go up and arch back to form the outline of a heart. (She turns to face me and tilts her heap up and their hidden under her chin in an arc that outlines the bottom of her jaw is a phrase: Soy Zorra Cochina .... And what does that mean?

"It says, 'I am a dirty slut.'"

Well, that you are. Is that all of them? Oh, she us undoing the knot that holds her top together, revealing her tits now. On the sides of her tits going back to

her armpits are tiny little circles with points with short tails? What are those?

"These are spermatozoa. My mother had me tattoo one for each cock that fucked me before I turned 18."

Wow, and how many are there? You have a bunch of them and on both sides!

"Mmmmm, I have 78. Tee hee!"

Seventy eight! Oh my god. You're saying you had 78 different males fuck you before you came of age?

"Uh huh!"

Mother! Oh, you're a bad mother, such a bad mother! Aren't you ashamed of yourself? That's not how mama's raise their babies! Look at her, she's just shrugging, like, So what? So you're just going to say, So what?

*Yeah, so what. What do people expect? I was a slut before I was a whore. I just love it. And I can't imagine another lifestyle for my children.*

http://www.sexmoviespost.com/videos/milf-and-daughter-share-a-fuck-friend-1602.html

Children? You have others?

*I have two younger daughters and a baby boy, he's three.*

Well, I just have to shake my head and say shame on you. And when did you decide you were going to make Tania a whore?

*I never, like, thought out that I'm going to make her a whore. I just left her exposed to what I was doing. I thought, she can see and decide for herself.*

"Ever since I can remember, mama was bringing men home and making out with them all over the house. In the living room, the kitchen, on the table, in her bedroom.

She always dressed like, you know, slutty. We would hear her fucking. I would watch her suck cock. And she always looked like she was having a good time, like it

was soooo much fun. All I ever wanted to do was copy what she did."

"When I was a little girl, I would show boys my pussy. And they would touch me and it was just fun and games. I started sucking little boys pee pees when I was six."

So it was just like totally natural for you?

"Uh huh. But mama didn't want me putting them in my pussy. She said if I did it before I got my boobs I would get sick for sure. She said girls bodies don't build a tolerance to cock fucking until the bodies produce chemicals that fight off disease. It was just her way of protecting me. I hit puberty at 12. When i had my first period, she got me on the pill and I started fucking every boy in the neighborhood."

And you've been fucking ever since!

"Mmmm, yes, yes I have!"

So now you are what, like a team, mother-daughter fucking?

"Yes, we like to work together. Plus, it's safer. We watch out for each other."

Tania, how many times would you say you have had sex, intercourse or a blowjob, in your whole life?

"Wow! Uhh, hmm, I think I've performed a sex act, well, it is probably around 4,000 times now. Yea, that would be close to it."

Four thousand! Honey, that's ... God, just a staggering number. And you're only 20! Oh my God. You must have gotten sick. Any STDs?

"Oh, yess. Well, I do use condoms, but it doesn't protect you from everything. I have had the clap, chlamydia. I have HPV and I have herpes - both oral and vaginal. Yes, I'm a dirty cheap whore! Ha ha haa. But there's always drugs and things. I have my little pharmacy supply to keep outbreaks under control."

But the men don't care, they just keep coming, huh.

"These men? Ha ha ha. No, no they just want a horny pussy."

When was the first time you did it for money, Tania?

"Mmmmmm."

She's looking at her mother and mama's shaking her head no. Not going to answer that one?

"I don't think I will."

Were you underaged? Is that why?

"I should probably not say anything else."

Well, okay, fair enough. Ever gangbang?

"Uh huh, oh yea. That is definitely part of the job."

Can you tell me about your first one?

"Mmmm, (looking at mom again) should I?"

*Just don't mention your age.*

"Ok, well. I had been fucking awhile. And mama knew I was really like it. Like crazy liking it. She dressed me up like her. We were both in short shorts and tube tops and she drove me to a private party. There were 13 men there and we were the only females. It was wild. They just like took us to the center of this big living room and we had our backs to each other. We stripped naked and squatted and they were all around us having us suck. Sucking cocks. It was like a fucking

porn movie, just ...... oh my god."

Tania just slouched into her seat. Girl! She's rubbing herself. Make you horny thinking about it?

"Uh huhh! That was my first three-hole fuck. Yea, mmm, they were all up in me. Fucking my pussy and fucking my asshole and fucking my mouth. Mmm, it was sooo much cock."

How long did it take the two of you to work them all?

"They fucked us, shit, hours. like four hours straight almost. It was amazing. I was like, why would I want to do anything else!?"

Are men disrespectful, do they usually talk nasty to you?

"Yes."

Do you like that?

"Yes."

Why, why would you like that?

"Because it tells me right off what they want. Like, if a guy says, 'Hey slut, come over here.' I know he's going to try to give me a nasty fuck."

And that's what you want?

"Oh, hell yeah!"

Do you do drugs?

"I like the smoke the weed. I like ecstacy. I like to sip whiskey, the sweet stuff."

The sweet stuff.

"Mmm hmm."

What is like your most favorite sex act? She's smiling ... curling that tongue out to past the corner of her mouth.

"I like a DP, ass and pussy fucking me like that, while I eat pussy."

Ahhh! Well, that sounds like something a true slut would prefer.

"Ha ha ha haaaa! Yea."

Deleted the story

purpleRectangle — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 10:34:29 UTC

I would like to delete this story

Paying off the Debt

sacoh58 — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 21:53:24 UTC

Martha threw her husband a quick glance, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. He gave her an almost imperceptible shrug in response. She made a weak smile and returned her nervous attention to the portly man seated behind the desk before them.
â€œUh Mr. Green as I said,â€ Brad said quickly, â€œThings have really gotten tight for us. Business has been real slow for the past few months. But Iâ€™m sure things will pick up.â€
â€œI see,â€ Mr. Green said as he slowly closed their file. He settled back in his chair, appearing to be deep in thought. Finally he said, â€œSo when could you get current on your loan?â€
â€œIâ€¦I really canâ€™t say anything definite,â€ Brad said, casting a quick look at Martha.
â€œWeâ€™ll take care of it as soon as we can,â€ Martha added. She shook her head, saying, â€œWeâ€™re just asking you to be patient.â€
â€œYouâ€™re already three months behind in your payments,â€ Mr. Green curtly pointed out.
â€œWe know we are,â€ Brad conceded. He coughed and then said, â€œLike I said as soon as things pick up weâ€™ll pay all that we owe.â€
â€œAnd you canâ€™t say if or when things might pick up.â€
â€œNo, Iâ€™m afraid not,â€ Brad admitted wearily. He cast a worried look over at his young wife and then returned his attention to the loan officer.
â€œAnd so we continue to lose money and the late fees continue to grow,â€ he said simply, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands in his lap. He grunted shortly and shook his head, saying, â€œJust how much slack do we give you. When you took out this loan you agreed to make the monthly payment each and every month.â€
â€œYes, I know we did,â€ Brad said nodding his head. He shrugged his shoulders, saying, â€œBut things just didnâ€™t go like we thought they were.â€
â€œAnd so we have to wait to get our money back?â€
â€œWeâ€™re trying,â€ Martha said quickly. She glanced at her husband and then at Mr. Green, saying, â€œI donâ€™t know what else to say, but weâ€™re trying.â€
â€œIâ€™m sure you are. But that isnâ€™t paying back the money you owe,â€ he said in mildly condescending tone. He sat forward, saying, â€œYou know I could begin legal proceedings to recover the money I lent you.â€
Martha glanced at her husband; sure she looked as dismayed as he did. She shrugged slightly unsure how they were going to escape the hole they had found themselves in. They had only been married for two years now and were in a very serious financial hole. They had taken the loan to try to consolidate their bills and put a down payment on a house. Unfortunately, Bradâ€™s work was suffering a serious slow period. She knew that if Mr. Green did begin legal action they could possibly lose everything.
â€œWeâ€™ll do anything we can to repay the loan,â€ Brad said weakly, getting an agreeing nod from Martha.
â€œI see,â€ Mr. Green said slowly. He again settled back in his chair, alternating his gaze between Martha and her husband. She shifted slightly as the silence continued, feeling like he was letting his eyes rest on her just a tad longer. Finally he said, â€œSo youâ€™re suggesting that maybe we could come to an arrangement.â€
â€œUh yes,â€ Brad said quickly, looking over at Martha for support.
â€œWhatever it takes,â€ Martha added.
â€œThere might be ways for you to, say, work this debt off,â€ Mr. Green said slowly. He frowned slightly and said, â€œA way for you to do things and in turn Iâ€™ll lower the remaining balance of your debt.â€
â€œWould you?â€ Martha asked hopefully.
â€œYes, we could make a working arrangement,â€ he said with a slow nod.
â€œGreat, we really appreciate this Mr. Green,â€ Brad said eagerly. He shifted forward, asking, â€œWhat is it you would want us to do?â€
â€œWell, I have another enterprise that I mange and Iâ€™m sure you would do great there,â€ he said, giving Martha a warm smile. She shifted, casting a puzzled look at Brad. She was attending school still, hoping to get her degree in business administration; she had no real business experience.
â€œButâ€¦but what kind of business is it?â€ Martha asked, glancing at her husband. She shook her head, saying, â€œI may not be qualified for the work.â€
â€œOh, youâ€™re qualified,â€ Mr. Green assured her.
â€œThank youâ€¦I guess,â€ Martha said. She ran a hand through her shoulder length dark brown hair, asking, â€œWhat kind of work is it Iâ€™d be doing?â€
â€œWell as I said itâ€™s a private enterprise,â€ Mr. Green said, his eyes resting solely on her. Martha shifted, uneasy with his prolonged gaze, she thought he had quickly lowered his stare to her chest. He smiled at her, saying, â€œA very private enterprise.â€
â€œOkay,â€ Martha said slowly, casting an uncertain look at her husband. She cleared her throat, asking, â€œJust what exactly does it do?â€
â€œIt provides, shall we say temporary companionship.â€
Marthaâ€™s eyebrows knitted sharply in confusion. She shook her head, as if to clear it and then asked, â€œWhat? Is like visiting elderly shut ins?â€
â€œNo, nothing like that,â€ he said calmly. He templed his fingers and rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, saying, â€œIt provides companionship for adults. Mainly adult men.â€
Marthaâ€™s stomach knotted severely, making it hard to breathe. Wide-eyed she stared at Mr. Green, hoping she had misunderstood him. Open-mouthed she looked over at Brad; he was quietly staring straight ahead.
â€œWhaâ€¦what are you saying?â€ Martha finally asked in a breathless whisper.
â€œItâ€™s an escort service,â€ Mr. Green said matter-of-factly.
Martha inhaled sharply and sat back in her chair as if she had been shoved. Dumbly she turned and looked at her husband. She could clearly see his jaw muscle twitch as he gritted his teeth. He continued to stare straight ahead, his fists clenched tightly.
â€œBrad?â€ She breathlessly whispered.
â€œWhat can we do?â€ He asked without looking over at her. In a soft monotone he said, â€œWe could lose everything. Heâ€™s got us.â€
â€œIâ€™m not a prostitute,â€ Martha said indignantly.
â€œI didnâ€™t say you were,â€ Mr. Green said with a chuckle. He waved his hand, saying, â€œA prostitute gets paid for fucking someone and youâ€™re not going to get any money for yourâ€¦services. It will just be put towards your debt. And with a body like yours, it shouldnâ€™t take too long for you to work it off. Maybe a year or two.â€
â€œBradâ€¦â€ Martha again looked to her husband for some kind of help.
â€œIâ€™m sorry honey,â€ he said quietly, blinking repeatedly.
â€œOh donâ€™t act so upset,â€ Mr. Green said. He motioned at Brad, saying, â€œYouâ€™ll still be with your husband. Itâ€™s just now I will say who else youâ€™re going to fuck. Who, how and when I say.â€
Marthaâ€™s stomach was balled tightly, feeling like a lump of cold lead. She took a shaky breath, hoping to keep down the bile that had crept up her throat. Her mind was spinning. The only man she had ever been with was Brad and now she was being forced to be a whore. She was literally being sacrificed to anyone that had enough money.
â€œYou neednâ€™t worry Iâ€™m very careful with whom I do business,â€ Mr. Green said calmly. His grin only increased Marthaâ€™s anguish as he said, â€œTheyâ€™re all good men. With money and a desire for occasional female company. And, like I said, a young lady that looks as nice as you Iâ€™m sure they will find most entertaining.â€
Martha stared dumbfounded at him, dimly hearing his words. She was horrified by what he was saying, for her to become a whore. She had been raised with traditional Christian values; that sex was meant to be done only by a husband and wife. That prostitution was wrong, terribly wrong. Any woman that would sell her body was doomed to rot in hell. She wondered if the fact that she was being forced into it would in any way alleviate her sin.
â€œSo what do you want us to do?â€ Martha dimly heard Brad ask.
â€œWell first off, like any good business man Iâ€™d like to check out the merchandise,â€ Mr. Green said. He leaned back and motioned for Martha to stand up, saying after she had, â€œPlease take your clothes off.â€
Martha felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. Her breath caught and she staggered slightly, feeling the floor tilt beneath her. Brad was the only man that had seen her naked and now this relative stranger wanted her to undress. Added to that he was acting as if he was just checking out a piece of equipment.
â€œBrad?â€ Martha tearfully whispered.
â€œJust do it,â€ he muttered, keeping his stare trained ahead.
Sniffing heavily, Martha took hold of the lower edge of her red blouse. She cast a pleading look at Mr. Green but he remained impassive. Blinking repeatedly to clear her tear-filled eyes, Martha slowly began to pull her blouse up. She shook her head to settle her tousled hair after she had drawn the blouse over her head. Unsure she looked about and then laid it on the chair where she had been seated. With trembling fingers, she undid the clasps on her hip; she held the waist of her long black skirt for a long moment. Closing her eyes she gave the skirt a slight push and allowed it to drop, clustering around her ankles.
â€œOh one thing,â€ Mr. Green said as she stepped from her skirt and lightly shoved it aside with her foot. He motioned at Martha, saying, â€œNo more pantyhose. A lot of men donâ€™t like them. At least our customers donâ€™t. You can wear stockings if you want.â€
Dumbly Martha nodded her head. She stood there wishing her nightmare would end. She was about to uncover her private parts to this man and while her husband watched in silence. Except for Brad and her doctor, no other man had ever seen her naked body. Even when she was a teen, she hadnâ€™t fooled around. She had dated and even kissed some guys while she was in high school, but that was as far as it had gone. She had been taught that good girls didnâ€™t do things like that. She could still recall how nervous she had been on their wedding night. Nervously undressing, revealing to him her most private parts. The wonderful feeling he had given her when they first had made love. She had never even fantasized about being with another man and now she was going to be made available to who knew how many. Martha shivered as she noted Mr. Greenâ€™s blatant eyeing. Except for the few times when she was younger and her little brother had walked in on her when she was dressing, no one had ever seen her this way.
â€œDonâ€™t stop,â€ he told her with a touch of eagerness, â€œTake the rest of your clothes off.â€
Taking a shuddering breath Martha nodded stiffly and arched her back as she reached up behind herself. Her fingers were oddly inept as she fumbled with the clasp on her plain white bra. She sensed Mr. Greenâ€™s impatience as she continued to try and undo the clasp. Keeping her head bowed, she allowed the straps to slip off her shoulders and then her bra silently dropped to the floor.
â€œVery nice Martha, very nice indeed,â€ Mr. Green murmured appreciatively.
Deciding to ignore his comment, Martha kicked her shoes off knowing he was eying her cone shaped breasts. She could almost feel his eyes on her 36C bust. A part of her wondered if she would find it as exciting to have her breasts fondled by a total stranger as she did when her husband would. She was dismayed that she was even wondering what it would be like to be with another man. Forced to be with another man. Briefly, she recalled how wonderful it had felt that first time Brad had caressed her breast. The electric thrill that had coursed through her when he tweaked her erect nipple. The wild rush when he had longingly kissed and sucked on her rust colored cones of flesh.
Martha kept her eyes trained to spot on the floor as she jammed her thumbs inside the waistband of her pantyhose. She hesitated; hoping somehow the nightmare would end, but knowing it was only just beginning. Roughly, she shoved her pantyhose and panties down off her hips. Quickly she pushed the garments down her slender legs to her ankles. Shakily she worked her feet free and then straightened, letting the crumpled pile remain at her feet. Instinctively she placed her hands over her bare snatch as she quietly stood there.
â€œVery nice,â€ Mr. Green said quietly. He shifted forward. Resting his forearms on the desk, saying, â€œTurn around.â€
On rather wobbly knees, Martha slowly turned around. She paused when she had her back to him, assuming he wanted to get a look at her butt. After a few seconds, she resumed turning until she was again facing him. Martha knew she was an attractive woman; she wasnâ€™t beautiful she knew, but she wasnâ€™t plain Jane either. Oddly, she was hoping that for some reason Mr. Green would not want to use her as he planned. That maybe she wasnâ€™t good enough for his private enterprise. Marthaâ€™s stomach tightened even more when from the edge of her vision she saw him stand up. With growing dread, she watched as he came around his desk to where she was standing.
â€œVery, very nice,â€ he said as he stood next to her. He grunted, saying, â€œAs a matter of fact, there are some favors that you might help me repay.â€
Martha gasped loudly when he smacked her pale ass cheek, gripping it firmly. He gave her ass cheek a hard squeeze, grunting approvingly as he did. He gave her pale globe of flesh a shake, muttering, â€œReal nice.â€
Martha tensed when he reached over and cupped his hand to her tit. He firmly pressed his hand to her tit, giving it a slight jiggle. She shuddered when he slid his fingers over her nipple. He chuckled softly as he tweaked her tingling nipple, causing her to tense. He released her tingling nipple and firmly traced the quarter-sized areola that circled her nipple.
Martha took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes as he moved his hand from her breast down her front. He gripped her wrist, made her move her hand from in front of her crotch, and then brushed her other hand away. She didnâ€™t try to stop the soft sob as he began to rub her smoothly shaved pubic mound.
â€œSpread your legs,â€ he quietly directed her. She wanted to refuse but she knew it would be useless. Trembling she awkwardly moved her feet apart.
Once she had, he thrust his hand between her legs. Martha inhaled as he pushed his pudgy middle finger between her pussy lips. With a single thrust, he drove his finger into her warm, moist vagina. She gritted her teeth, trying to block any sensation from her crotch as he kept his finger deep in it. Slowly he began to pull his finger back, until just the tip was still between her pussy lips and then again shoved it deep into her. To her dismay, Martha felt her violated pussy beginning to moisten. With increased speed, Mr. Green continued to silently finger her. She twitched slightly when he rubbed her clit and heard his soft chuckle; apparently he had seen her reaction.
â€œDo you masturbate?â€ He calmly asked her.
â€œI have,â€ Martha finally admitted after a prolonged silence. She wondered what her husband would think about her confession. It wasnâ€™t very often, just once in awhile.
â€œGood, guys like to watch girls finger themselves,â€ Mr. Green calmly said. Martha sagged slightly when he abruptly pulled his hand from between her legs. He motioned her to turn around as he moved past her and sat down in the chair she had been seated in. She cast a forlorn look at Brad as she turned; he was watching her helplessly. She just wanted to cry, being forced to degrade herself in front of him. Mr. Green casually crossed his legs and told her, â€œGo ahead and finger yourself.â€
Martha clearly felt the redness of her shame spreading over her face. She took a ragged breath as she moved her hand between her legs. Closing her eyes, she carefully slipped her middle finger into her wet hole. Slowly she began to rub herself, being a little gentler than he had. Despite her revulsion, she soon began to breathe heavily and slowly grind her hips as she rubbed her tingling clit.
â€œDo you like to suck cock?â€ Mr. Green asked after a few seconds.
â€œIâ€¦I never haveâ€¦â€ Martha nearly gasped.
â€œWhat?â€ Mr. Green exclaimed. Through partly opened eyes she saw him look over at Brad, asking, â€œSurely she sucks your cock?â€
â€œNo,â€ Brad said with a slow shake of his head.
â€œWell I guess weâ€™ve got a lot of training to do,â€ Mr. Green said with a grin. He leaned towards Brad, asking, â€œWould you like her to suck your cock?â€
â€œIâ€¦I guess so,â€ Brad said, giving her an uncertain look.
â€œWell Martha you heard him,â€ Mr. Green said. He motioned at her husband, saying, â€œGet over here and suck his cock. You had best learn how and might as well start with your husband.â€
Martha stood there, her hand still between her legs and staring at her husband. She didnâ€™t want to admit that she had kissed his dick once. Last New Yearâ€™s, they had gone to a party and she had gotten a little tipsy. When they had gotten home, they began to fool around. They took turns undressing the other. While she was kneeling in front of him, pulling his pants down and his stiff organ popped into view. Maybe it had been the alcohol, but unthinkingly she had gripped his shaft, leaned forward and gave it a hard kiss. And that had been it, he had never mentioned it after that and she was too embarrassed to say anything about it.
On very shaky legs, Martha walked over to Brad. His face was a mask of anguish and a hint of eagerness. Unthinkingly she lowered her eyes to his crotch, both pleased and a little ashamed to see the bulge there. She had thought that oral sex was disgusting, now she was being forced to take her own husbandâ€™s penis in her mouth. Casting an apologetic look at Brad, she slowly dropped to her knees. Quickly, Brad spread his legs and scooted forward in his chair as she crawled closer.
â€œGood ahead and pull his pants down,â€ Mr. Green directed her.
Martha nodded stiffly and reached up, fumbling with Bradâ€™s belt. With trembling fingers she undid his belt and then unfastened his slacks. Her breathing was shaky as she took hold of the tab of his zipper. She looked up at him as she began to slide the zipper down, his face covered with an uncertain look.
Brad obligingly raised his ass off the chair when she began to tug his pants and shorts down. She shuddered when his stiff organ sprang into view, jutting up rigidly. Instinctively she took hold of his hard shaft, sliding her hand along it, her eyes glued to it. She was being made to stick it in her mouth.
Shivering, Martha leaned forward and firmly kissed the end of his shaft. From the few vulgar conversations she had had the misfortune to overhear at school she understood that men liked having the end of their dicks kissed and licked. She paused with her lips pressed hard against the head of his dick and then opened her mouth slightly. She flashed her tongue out, quickly swirling around his cock. She was disgusted with herself at the slight perverse thrill she felt when she heard Brad groan softly.
Reluctantly, Martha opened her mouth wider and his dick slipped into her mouth. Unthinkingly, she wrapped her lips tightly around the base of his cockhead. She rubbed her tongue firmly over the end of it, remembering she had heard that guys liked that. Her eyes fluttered open briefly when she felt a hand on the back of her head. She groaned softly when the hand, she assumed it was Brad, began to gently push down. Hesitantly she gave in and allowed more of his dick to slide into her mouth.
Martha was surprised at how hard and smooth his shaft was as it rested on her tongue. She kept her lips snug around his shaft, reaching up to take hold of it. Her nostrils were flared widely as she inhaled heavily through her nose. Steadily, Brad continued to make her take more of his shaft. He stopped when the end of his cock touched the back of her throat and caused her to gag. Martha opened her eyes, seeing see had taken about half of his penis. He held her head still for a second and she wondered if he wanted to have her take all of him. She didnâ€™t think she could, her mouth was filled with his organ. Eagerly she continued to rub her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Unthinkingly, she groaned deep in her throat.
â€œHowâ€™s she doing?â€ she vaguely heard Mr. Green ask with a chuckle.
â€œOkay,â€ Brad gasped.
Martha was pleased when Brad lessened the pressure on her head, allowing her to pull her head back. She hoped she could get his penis out her mouth. He stopped her when just the end of his shaft was between her lips and then steadily pushed her head back down. Smoothly his shaft slid between her lips filling her mouth once more.
Soon she was moving her head up and down without his guidance. Unthinkingly she began to make lewd disgusting slurping noises as his dick slipped back and forth in her mouth. She also began to suck on his shaft, understanding that men liked that too. Soon her cheeks were indented sharply. Brad also began to buck his hips forward, driving more of his dick into her mouth. She could clearly hear his rapid, deep breathing. She knew that he was getting close to climaxing.
â€œDonâ€™t come in her mouth,â€ she heard Mr. Green say, â€œPull your cock out and shoot your wad on her face.â€
â€œOkay,â€ Brad gasped.
Martha groaned when he pushed her head back, allowing his dick to spring from her mouth. He roughly brushed her hand from his shaft and gripped it himself. He held her head still as he frantically pumped his saliva coated shaft, pointing it at her. She closed her eyes tightly when the first large glob of his milky white cum spurted out. She flinched as the warm thick fluid splattered on her cheek. She heard Brad groan longingly as more of his hot cum landed on her face.
Brad once more pulled her head forward after he had stopped cumming. Martha inhaled through her nose when she felt his cockhead touch her face. Firmly he began to rub his cock over her face, smearing his thick, warm spunk over it. He slid his cum over her closed eyes, along her nose, jaw, and cheeks and along her tightly closed lips.
Finally, she heard Brad sigh and pull his hand from her head. Wearily she sat back on her ankles, listening to her husbandâ€™s rapid breathing. She had been scared that he was going to cum in her mouth. She had been certain that she would have been ill if he had. But this seemed even more disgusting. Sitting there with her face covered with his spunk. She could feel a few globs slowly sliding down her jaw onto her neck.
â€œLick your lips,â€ Mr. Green ordered in a husky whisper.
Obediently, her tongue flashed out passing over her cum covered lips. She was surprised at how warm and salty it tasted. She wished she could wipe her face off, she felt as if she had been stained by his spunk and everyone would know what she had done and allowed to be done to her. She heard Brad shifting around and figured he was fixing his pants.
â€œShe needs to work on that,â€ she heard Mr. Green say. She heard him moving about also, as he said, â€œIâ€™ll let you work with her on that.â€
â€œOkay,â€ Brad said with a touch of eagerness.
â€œHere, wipe your face off,â€ Mr. Green said, touching her shoulder.
Martha took the smooth fabric he had handed her and quickly wiped it over her face and neck. She shuddered as she carefully wiped her eyes off, blinking repeatedly after she did. She was disgusted to see that she had been using her own panties to wipe her face off with. She let the soiled garment drop to the floor, casting an uncertain look at the two men.
Mr. Green placed his elbow on the armrest of his chair and then rested his chin in his hand. He glanced at Brad and then at Martha, saying, â€œSince sheâ€™s never sucked cock, I take it that sheâ€™s got a cheery asshole?â€
Martha looked terrified at Brad. Surely he didnâ€™t intend for her to do that. Surely he had degraded her enough.
â€œUhâ€¦yeah,â€ Brad admitted with a slow nod.
â€œWell I guess Iâ€™ll let you pop her cheery butt,â€ Mr. Green said with a wave of his hand. He grinned and motioned at her, saying, â€œBut you better not wait. I know some guys that would love to stick it up her ass.â€
â€œYes sir,â€ Brad said quickly, glancing at Martha. She was aghast; this man was actually directing her husband as to what to do to her.
â€œSo do you ever go down on her?â€
â€œNo,â€ Brad quietly confessed, coughing uneasily. Mr. Green only snorted and shook his head. Martha bowed her head slightly. She didnâ€™t know how to react; Brad had never tried that with her. She knew that a lot of girls liked it, but she had never experienced it and he hadnâ€™t seemed interested in trying it.
â€œWell let me show your lovely wife what sheâ€™s been missing,â€ Mr. Green said jovially as he stood up. He held out a hand to help Martha to her feet. He held her hand as he led her around the desk. He made her turn so her back was to the desk and Brad. He slipped his hands under her armpits and easily helped her up onto the desk. She sat there on the edge of his desk as he sat down in his leather chair. She leaned back on her elbows as he scooted the chair closer and made her rest her feet on the armrests of his chair. He smiled up at her as he gently stroked the smooth skin of her upper thighs.
Martha watched transfixed as he lightly caressed her legs, slowly moving his hands to her pubic mound. She was mildly repulsed at how his eyes were glued to her private parts. She wanted to laugh, private parts. Her most private of areas was now being inspected by this man and who knew how many more would have access to her. She shuddered as he lightly rubbed the smooth skin of her crotch. Slowly, almost teasingly he moved his fingers down to her pussy lips. He ran his fingertips along her slit, down one side and up the other.
â€œSo youâ€™ve never let anyone lick your pussy?â€ He asked as he pushed his index finger into her moist pocket.
â€œNo,â€ Martha gasped, shaking her head and resisting the urge to look over at her husband.
Mr. Green simply grunted and shook his head. Still transfixed, Martha watched as he placed his other hand on her snatch and spread the lips of her pussy, groaning as he did. She found herself holding her breath as he shifted back slightly and leaned forward. She twitched when he lightly kissed her pussy. She was unable to stop her deep-throated groan when he stuck his tongue into her pussy. Slowly he ran his tongue along her slit, sending wicked shivers through her. Martha lay back on the desk, suddenly feeling weak as he continued to lick her pussy. She was stunned at how wet she was becoming. She groaned loudly as he worked another finger into her, slowly fingering her as he licked her.
Martha let out a startled gasp and jerked mightily when Mr. Green firmly licked her erect clit. Each time he kissed or licked her erect clit she jerked as if she had been shocked. Unabashedly she groaned, her head rolling from side to side. She didnâ€™t want to admit it, but what he was doing to her was wickedly exciting. Unthinkingly she reached down and grabbed the back of his head, pressing it hard to her snatch. Part of her was disgusted with her reaction; she was acting like a wanton slut and in front of her husband. She gritted her teeth as she ground her crotch against Mr. Greenâ€™s face, hoping he would get her off quickly.
Abruptly, he pulled his face from her pussy, making her groan in protest. Weakly she raised her head and saw he was leaning back in his chair, fumbling with his pants. She turned her head to look at Brad. He was leaning forward, watching her. He gave her a weak smile and nod. She looked back as Mr. Green rose.
Marthaâ€™s eyes dropped to his crotch, where his stiff dick was jutting out of his pants. Without knowing why, she found herself comparing his tool to the only other adult male dick she had ever seen, Bradâ€™s. Mr. Green seemed to be as well endowed as her dear husband, although his dick might be a little fatter then Bradâ€™s. She was dismayed to realize that part of her was wondering what it would feel like in her.
â€œYou donâ€™t mind if I check out my new employee, do you?â€ Mr. Green asked Brad.
â€œNo, go right ahead.â€
Mr. Green grunted, gripping his stiff dick in one hand as he moved closer. Martha watched with mixed emotions as he guided his stiff organ to her pussy. She inhaled deeply when she felt the head of his cock slip between her pussy lips. He paused to grab her ankles and lift her feet. He held her ankles, with her legs spread wide. With one hard thrust, he shoved his dick deep into her. Despite her disgust, she couldnâ€™t stop the throaty moan that escaped. She saw that although his dick did feel bigger, it wasnâ€™t that uncomfortable.
Martha laid her head back as he began to pump his cock into her. She began to grunt with each hard thrust he made, reaching down to grab the edge of the desk. Although she and Brad had had some heated sex, it had also been tempered. Brad had usually made love at an almost measured pace. Mr. Green was taking her in a rather hard almost frantic pace.
Briefly she lifted her head to look down her front, watching as his glistening dick pumped in and out of her, she could even feel his balls slapping against her. She was shocked to see that she was pulling herself closer to him, meeting each hard thrust and driving him deeper into her. She laid her head back down as she felt her pussy tingling with the beginning of a climax. She didnâ€™t want to let this man make her come, but she couldnâ€™t stop herself.
Groaning loudly, Martha arched her back clean off the desk. Her pussy muscles flexed tightly around Mr. Greenâ€™s pumping cock and her juices gushed heavily around it. Her squeal filled the small office as she tensed, nearly hyperventilating. In the midst of her climax she felt Mr. Green stop slamming his cock into her and a split second later she felt his warm spunk squirting into her tingling pussy. She remained tensed as he steadily pumped his sperm into her. Finally she lowered herself back onto the desktop and Mr. Green stepped back, his flaccid dick slipping out of her. Martha heard him plop down in his chair as she let her legs drop. She remained laying their, her legs dangling off the desk as she tried to catch her breath.
After a few minutes, Mr. Green stood up and helped Martha off the desk. She kept her head bowed, as she stood there, ashamed at how she had behaved. Her womb was filled with this manâ€™s sperm and she had enjoyed it. She wouldnâ€™t admit it, but it had been wickedly exciting. She avoided looking at Brad as she moved from behind the desk, Mr. Greenâ€™s jism slowly oozing down the inside of her thighs.
â€œWell then Iâ€™ll be in touch as soon as I get some work for you,â€ Mr. Green said as he adjusted his clothes.
â€œOkay,â€ Martha and Brad both said.

Silence filled their car as they drove home a short time later. Martha stared straight ahead the whole time. They stopped for a red light and Brad glanced over at her, asking, â€œYou wanna stop anywhere?â€
â€œLetâ€™s just go home,â€ Martha answered softly. She glanced out of the side of her vision at Brad.
Martha needed time to think and sort out her whirling thoughts. She was disgusted with what she and her husband had agreed to; they had agreed to make her a prostitute. She had sold her body to settle a debt. She knew that she had lost her soul to eternal damnation for this despicable act. But oddly there was a stirring sense of excitement; a purely wicked feeling that she couldnâ€™t deny. She was shocked when she felt it but it was there and growing with each second she allowed herself to think about her situation. She didnâ€™t want to admit it but she was almost looking forward to the telephone ringing and hearing Mr. Green say he had a job for her. Maybe it was a sin but she didnâ€™t care.

The Night of the Motherlode

Pzmk — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 08:36:43 UTC

Last winter was one of the harshest and coldest in our region. Up to six feet of snow total for the year. But it was one of the most enjoyable for me. A true story with a few minor embellishments.

It was our third snowstorm that season and I had already gone out and done my shopping earlier that week in anticipation of the one they called "The Motherlode". They were expecting a full 30" in some areas and I could already hear the wind and first flakes of snow pelting the windows. I'd hunkered down for the night with a fridge full of deli meats and cheeses, beer, chips and lots of leftover chinese food and pizzas. I popped in some rented porn dvds and figured that would be my entertainment when there was a knock at the door. It was Carla.

A fat neighborhood whore who was once a high school classmate of my father's. She was stuffed into a dark green parka and wearing her typical grey knee length night shirt with the slits up the side and a pair of Ug boots. She was also carrying a big plastic bag.

Me: "Hey, mama. What's new?" I said, kind of blocking the doorway. As I was hoping for a little alone time though I could always use a good fuck.

Carla: "Hey, Pad. You feel like a date??", her voice cracked with pleading eyes. Her 58 year old face was plain and clear of the make up and eye liner she usually wore. Her dirty blond locks peeked from under the parka hood. She looked like Shelly WInters.

Me: "I don't really have any cash on me right now darlin'. Just spent everything at the market. Maybe next time."

Carla: "Well you don't have to pay me now. I just kind of need a warm place right now."

Me: "What happened?" I said, looking at the black trash bag. "You get kicked out??"

Carla: "Yeah, well the halfway house I was at told me I had to leave 'cuz me and a couple of the other girls were having a beef. Fucking bitches!!! I really don't have anywhere to go. Can I stay here?? I'll can sleep on the floor. Or can you let me sleep in your car. I won't steal nuthin'. I just dont want to freeze to death tonight". She pleaded with her head cocked to the right awaiting some sign of approval.

I stroked my chin for a second. She was a hot piece of ass in her day right up to her early forties and she was the last of the great gold diggers. I was one of the only guys who never got a chance to fuck her back then. Recently I'd gotten a few blow jobs from her. I remember she had really dissed me telling me that I wasn't ready for her and to come back when I was a man. Now how the tables had turned. She was living in homeless shelters and boarding houses, having gotten off of alcohol & cocaine and clean and sober but broke and living on food stamps. Her kids had disowned her and never came to visit though reportedly they would send her clothes and care packages with no return address during the holidays. Most of the guys who'd spent lots of money on her and even wanted to marry her now wouldn't even admit to knowing her. In the past, she would rolled her eyes at a guy like me working at the docks and driving around in a beat up five yr old car.

Me: "I'll tell you what. You can stay here tonight. It's too cold in my car anyway. You shouldn't have to be stuck out there in the harsh elements." I said patronizingly, inviting her in. "But the storm is gonna be pretty bad so you may be stuck with me for a few days."

I started licking my lips as she took off her parka and revealed that bloated but still voluptuous body. As she bent over to take off her boots, I got a good look at that wide fat ass, stretching the cotton of her long nightshirt. I reached under her night shirt and grabbed a handful of ass as my reward and said " but the pussy is free, right???"

She giggled at the gesture and cooed, "Of course!!".

Suddenly that movie I was about to watch wasn't so interesting. I led her down the hall to the bedroom. I was already pulling off my shirt and kicking off shoes as I followed that fat ass. Once in the bedroom, she started to take her clothes off but I told he to stop. That was my job. I pushed her back onto the bed and pulled her nightshirt up above her hips. She was wearing white granny panties that barely covered her milky white fat ass. I snatched them off and let them dangle off her left ankle, Her pussy was a big hairy muff pie. She tried to cover it up, embarrassed.

Carla: "Sorry it's not shaved. I haven't fucked in awhile"

Me: "Me neither!! I said, my cock growing hard at the sight of her bushy, dark brunette jungle snatch. I usually preferred a shaved snatch but pussy is pussy.

I usually like a blow job first but I couldn't help myself. I dropped to my knees, pulled her by her heavy legs and thighs toward the edge of the bed, parted her her hairy muff and dove into that fat pussy face first. I jammed my face in her crotch and lapped at her quivering vagina and sucked and nibbled on her pulsating clit.

Carla squealed as my greedy mouth hit her hot cunt. She grabbed my head with both hands and pushed my face further into her steamy, furry crotch, writhing and twisting her hips to allow me to get every inch of her pussy into my mouth.

After several minutes, she started to buck her hips against my face as I could hear her pussy making squelching noises. She was about to come. Come HARD. "Ahhh....AHHHH!!...." I could hear the lift-off starting. I grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her pussy up to my face one last time, frantically sucking and slapping my tongue on her clitoris. She screamed out loud.

"AAAARRRGGGGGHHHH!!! OH, MY GAWWRRG, OOHHH, FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK!!" she screamed, thrashing on the bed and pissing pussy juice down my face. she grabbed my head like her survival depended on it and shook as cunt cream continued to stream down her ass cheeks and thighs. I lapped up every drop as she lay sweating and breathing heavily. She left a big wet spot on my bed the size of Texas.

Carla: That was AMAZING!! I've never had a guy eat my pussy like that. I could go to sleep for days now." She started to curl up on the bed.

Me: "AWW, FUCK NO, BITCH!! I'll tell you when you can go to sleep. You gotta earn your keep if you're staying with me!!", I yelled. UNLESS YOU WANNA GO OUTSIDE AND FREEZE, YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS UP AND TAKE CARE OF ME." I pulled the blanket off of her. "MY TURN."

I stood up, pulled her up to the edge of the bed again and pulled off her nightdress and pulled down my boxers. I put my raging hard on against her mouth and she gulped it down, looking up at me for sympathy as I stood towering over her. I grabbed the back of her head and shoved all eight inches down her throat. She knew the drill. She sucked the whole shaft from the head to the root while jiggling my balls, licking down to my ball sack and jacking off the dick at the same time. Carla was definitely a pro. And I could tell by the way she kept looking at me that she was turned on by my take charge, aggressive nature.

All the while she was sucking me off, I was fondling her huge breasts with my other hand. Her udders were a bit saggy but the nipples were like gumdrops. I pulled on them and they even sagged so much I was able to pull one up to my mouth. I started verbally abusing and chastising her while I sucked and chewed on her floppy titties.

Me: "Yeah, bitch no wonder all the mother fuckers in this neighborhood talked so much shit about you. You're the best cocksucker ever. I used to hear my dad talk to his buddies about how good a piece of ass you were, bitch. You probably don't remember but ten years ago, you told me I wasn't good enough but guess what? We're gonna find out if I meet your approval tonight cuz YOUR ASS BELONGS TO ME FOR THE NEXT COUPLE DAYS"

While she continued to suck me off, I reached for the night stand and picked up my little blue pill and took it with a glass of water. I never needed the pills but tonight I wanted to get a bit of revenge.

My dick was diamond hard now. I didn't want to cum off of no blow job. I wanted to get back into that hot pussy again. I pulled my dick out of her mouth and pushed her back onto the bed. I crawled between her legs and slowly pushed my hard yardstick into her still dripping pussy. She gasped as I sank the first four inches in. I was surprised how tight she was considering her reputation. I guess she really hadn't had sex in awhile. Then I put in the final four I started gyrating my hips, trying to find her sweet spot. When I heard her yelp in a couple stabbing motions I made, I concentrated on that spot. The pussy juices began to flow again as I started to slam and grind my cock in her G Spot. The squelching noises got louder and louder and Carla would try to stifle her moans against my chest. I pulled one of her fat floppy titties into my mouth again and chewed on the nipple. The whimpering Carla began licking and sucking on my neck as she wrapped her arms and legs and thighs around me, holding on while I mined and jack-hammered her vaginal territory. After fifteen minutes, she started to come again. I could feel her shiver and shake as her gash became more and more lubricating and her juices ran down my shaft and onto my balls. As she began to writhe, I jammed my cock back into her and she bucked and screamed even harder than before as her pussy convulsed and contracted on my dick in a vice grip. That was all I needed. I raised up on my haunches and slammed my boiling cock into her at top speed and unitl my hot nutsack milk blast into her voracious cunt. My whole body stiffened out and I collapsed on her thick, behemoth body. Her pussy continued to contract and drain my cock and nutsack. We both lay still exchanging fluids for about twenty minutes but seemed like hours.

Carla: "Wow, honey. Sorry about what I said to you all those years ago. Or maybe you just took my advice and became a man. Glad I was incentive for you", she said jokingly.

Me: "Don't flatter yourself. I plan on fucking you for the next couple days so don't get cocky. In fact, look at my dick. It's still rock hard so I plan on running up in that fat ass too in about ten minutes so you better go get the KY out of my bathroom cabinet."

Carla struggled to her feet as her knees were still wobbly from the multiple orgasms. Her fat ass jiggled as she reluctantly but obediently ambled her way to the bathroom.

Carla: "You know..." Carla finally bellowed from the bathroom, defiantly. "It's not like you're paying me or anything. You could at least be a little nicer. Im not your slave. I can just up and leave."

Me: "Hey, you can leave whenever you want. You came to me remember?? My house, my rules. You can get dressed and get the fuck out of my house and try to find a homeless shelter in all that snow right now. Or you can shut the fuck up and go get the KY. And while you're up, go make me a fuckin' sandwich and bring me a beer.", I said cockily as I started to lube up my swollen dick for some ass wreckage.

I became crossdressing street hooker for a nite

cdpaula — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 19:40:33 UTC

Well it was just a boring day and it was getting late when a friend of mine asked what I was going to that nite. I told her I didnt know and jokely told her dress up like steet hooker and go work the streets due to I was horny for dick. She laughed and said yea rite your a fulltime crossdresser but you aint got the never. I said I do to and said I had to go hung the phone up.
I went to my bedroom and took a bath didnt have to shave anymore due to I had lazor hair removeal and beening on hormons I thought I aint chicken to sell my ass so I finished bathing. I went in my my bedroom and found my black full victorian corset and black g-string and smalled hole fishnet stockings. I put them on and hooker the stocking to corset gartor staps did my makeup with color stay cherry red lipstick big hooped earrings and black thick choker neckles. I pinned up my hair and put on a dirty blonde wig. Taped down my small cock and due to me haveing breast implants didnt have to worry about them. I put on black micro mini skirt that just barely covered my ass and you could see my thigh stocking top and gartor straps, I put on tight black lace top then put on my 6 inch sandle type spike strap heels that showed my red toe nails that match my long saloon finger nails an put on my rings looked in the mirror and dam I looked like a slut.
I called Karen on the phone she said well what are you going to due tonite? Well I said im told you earlier what I was going to go do an what I was wearing. She said really and said were you going to go and told her that I heard from someone that there was couple of street in a certain town were gay prositutes hung out. She asked me if she could go to I said yea but was going to park my car in a pay parking place near there she said ok pick her up. I told her I be by in about 30 minutes to get her. I stopped on way to her house a got some comdons at a store and when picked her up she came out wearing a blue latax mini dress and heels and said if you do do it that she would too.
We drove about an hour to the place and parked the car it was about 10:00 pm she said were do we go now. I said we have to walk over block or so to the street. So we got out of the car and walk down to the street and made our way to the street it was dimmly lite and she said well it looks like we are the only two out here. I said guess more business for use. We walked slowly down the street when a car slowly past us and went down the street and turned around and came back slowy and pulled up beside us. It was older man about 65 years old. He called me over to his car when I got by the car he was not wearing any pants. He asked what he could get for $ 100.00 I said well what do you want he said a bj and to fuck me I said ok. I ask karen if she be ok by her self when the oldman said that the was a small road in between the too old store rite the she said yes. I got in his car and we drove down to the place he said he parked shut the car gave me the money. We kissed for a minute and I put a comdon on his cock sucking him hard as I was sucking him he pulled my g-sting aside and put some lube on my ass and started to finger me. When his cock was nice and hard I took my g-string off and climbed on top of him and rode his cock hard till he came. I easied off his lap put my g-string back on and got out of the car and walked back to the street. I seen Karen getting fucked in a car on the street. When she got done and got out she came over by me and said well what we going to do now, I said do you want to leave or see what happens, she lets stay a bit and see what happens. Well we both sucked and got fucked by different guys till we ran out of comdons at 3:00 am. On the way home she asked if I would do it again and I said yes I would she said she wanted to too.

Hooking while drunk for a dare

greysanatomy — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 16:09:32 UTC

We live in Ettingshall, Wolverhampton, about 1 mile from the red light area. Recently the Police have collared most of them, they've recieved asbo's and been banned from certain streets. So a few have taken to plying their trade right by our house on Ettingshall Rd. To be honest i don't mind but it pisses my Mrs off. Debbie, my wife, is 47, average looks, 38D tits, great legs and ass, but to be honest a bit run of the mill in bed. In fact once a month is exagerating. Last saturday (27th March) i had a few too many beers after the Wolves v Everton match and didn't get in til about 10.30 at night. Debbie had drunk quite a lot of wine and her tongue lashing was more severe than usual. It developed into a row, which as usual led to me bringing up my lack of a sex life.
'If your not happy go and see one of those tarts outside' she quipped, 'see if they are any better'.
'At least they have a job' i replied,' not sitting on their arse all day like you'.
'Right' she said, 'I'll show you' and disappeared into the bedroom. Ten minutes later she returned and my jaw dropped. Bright red lipstick, flimsy blouse, pencil skirt, tights and red shoes.
'Think anyone will stop' she sneered at me.
'You are joking' i asked hesitantly. She didn't answer, just raised her eyebrows, turned, and left the room. Seconds later i heard our front door slam. I couldn't believe this, yet though jealous of what might happen, i was surprisingly quite excited at the same time, pretty hard to explain. I dashed upstairs to the front bedroom, and just glimsed her going out of view. I wasn't sure whether she was winding me up or in some blokes car up to who knows what. I didn't have to wait long for an answer. My mobile went and Debbies name popped up.
'Right' she said, 'stop in the front, and don't make no noise, im on my way back with one'.
At this i started shaking with excitement, what was happening to me, i was semi-erect at the thought.
The front door opened, then i heard giggling and footsteps on the stairs. I paced the front room several times, then decided i had to go and look. I kicked my trainers off and tip-toed upstairs avoiding the creaky ones which im well used to when getting home at 4am . They were still talking and i heard Debbie ask for Â£50 off this guy. I crept past and entered the spare room. I put my ear to the wall but just heard muffled voices, it was no good. We have an old dining table and four chairs which we bring out at Christmas, party's etc and keep there the rest of the year. I took a chair, edged out into the hallway and put it by our bedroom door. I climbed on it and inched up so i could see through the glass panel above. The hallway light was off so i knew i couldn't be seen, id noticed the darkness when lying in bed myself. They were stood up, arms around each other snogging. I didn't think prossers did this but obviously Debbie didn't know the rules. He was white, chubby, thinning on top, wearing a suit, looked like a business type. Debbie stood back , beckoned him to take his coat off, then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. She then sat him on the bed, knelt down and took his shoes and socks off. He undid his own trousers and she pulled them off him. He was sat on the bed in just his boxers. I opened my flies and my cock sprung out the hardest i've ever known it. I couldn't touch it or id have cum on the spot. Debbie undid her blouse, threw it to the floor, then stepped out of her skirt. She kicked off her shoes and was down to underwear and tights. This guy then pulled down her tights while she unclipped her bra, letting it fall to reveal her gorgeous tits. Her nipples were erect and after fondling them for a while he sank his mouth over one breast while tweaking the nipple of the other. Debbie moaned, she used to adore this with me years ago. He then stood up and gently lay her onto the bed. He then lifted her left leg and started sucking on her toes, working his way up her leg with his tongue up to her panties. He stopped and repeated this on her other leg. This time though he slipped his hands to her hips and pulled her knickers off. Debbie was naked and her fanny looked open and glistening. Her moans got louder as he licked her cunt before focussing on her swollen clitty. I started wanking as Debbie writhed about in ecstacy. This guy was that hard i could see some of his cock, his boxers were that stretched out in front of him. He stopped , stood up and pulled them off. It put me to shame, and his bellend hadn't even popped out yet. Debbie took him in her mouth and rocked her eager mouth forward and back over his cock, her cheeks bulging with each inward stroke. After only 30 seconds he pushed her away, spread her legs and positioned himself between them. It entered her cunt unaided and Debbie wrapped her legs around his back as he built up a rhythm. Half of me wanted to go in and demand a halt, but the utter excitement overrid this as i watched this stranger fuck my wife of 22 years bareback. His pace increased, so did Debbies moans as the headboard rocked against the wall. He fucked her fast and furious for at least 10 minutes before stopping, withdrawing, and putting her into the doggy style position. Debbie screamed as he reentered her from behind and literally rammed her so hard her head hit the wall above the headboard. ' Im cumin', he moaned. Debbie let out a scream i knew was an orgasm as he emptied his spunk inside her and i shot my load into my hand. I decended quickly and returned to the spare room. She let him use the bathroom then he left. There was a silence as Deb and i smoked a fag in the front room. 'Enjoy the show' she quipped, i saw you looking'. 'You bet' i replied. 'Well don't expect a repeat' she said, 'and don't call me lazy again either'. What a night!

Church Whore 3: final chapter for a cheating housewife turned Ho

teresaj — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 07:50:11 UTC

Alberto Cazares:

Listen boy, when you are making a whore, for the best result, you need to have patience and you must keep the little pussy believing that needs you. Spend a little money and time up front, understand this is an investment.

If you do it right, la puta, she will make herself a puta almost with no effort from you. Look it, you are like the sheepdog herding sheep. Only in these case, you are the wolf herding putitas away from their families. Align yourself with men of the same hungers. We are many! It is best to surround the horny bitches with horny men who have the experience to give the bitches what they need, (and he squeezed on his cock), and who tell the bitches what they want to hear.

I'm telling you, it is easy when you know how. A puta wannabe is a POO-TAH! before she even knows she needs to be a puta. I just give the mamacita a little shove here and there to keep her slipping. You know the slippery slope? One little act of sin, it take the bitch down the muddy slope. You just keep giving the bitch a little push. Not too hard, but never let her climb back up! Eh? Never!

The putas, they are like the frog in the hot water. If you raise the temperature slowly, they never realize how total is the danger. And then, before she know it, hah! She is cooked. She is so fucked up that la puteria, la vida loca, it is the only life for her! Ha!

The best putas, they are always lying. They lie to everybody about what they are up to. But they lie the most to themselves. They do not want to admit, when they are sliding down the slope for the selfish sake of satisfying their temptations, they do not want to admit to themselves of their true character.

La puta, in the beginning she will say, I deserve to have a little fun. My life, it is so dull! She sins a little and lies a lot. Then she is push a little to do something worse, and she say, Oh, I misbehaved. But I will repent tomorrow. I will be ok. Then she sin even worse and she say, Oh my god, this is bad, but it is not so bad. I am not that bad like that puta over there.

Then she do even a worse sin, and she will say, It was his fault. She blames the wolf for seducing her. It is that bitch's fault. She blames the peer pressure that come to her from other putas in her circle. And keep that in mind, surround the putita with other putas. They will dare her and provoke her to acts she might not do on her own.

Then one day, she commits a sin so wicked that she must say, This is very bad. Oh my god, I am the worst! But now, she looks back at all of her accumulation of sins, and she say, I deserve to get away with this. Why not? I just need to be more careful.

Ah! Her heart is now in full rebellion. She wants to live in two worlds. She wants to sin to her delight, but she does not want to lose the privileges of respectable society. So, the lies grow into a mountain of lies that everybody can see, and she is the last to know that she is not fooling anyone. This is because her heart becomes cold to all decency. She neglects even more her responsibilities in respectable society and does not want to look at anything that is not convenient to her and her need to fill the hole in her wicked soul.

Then one day, she is exposed. She is judged for all her sins. She is rejected from the life she had. And she may cry. Poor little puta. She may try very hard to reform herself, to salvage a marriage, her relations with children and parents. That is when you must intervene. It is time for the wolf to bare his teeth. Cut the bitch off for good.

And with that advice, Mr. Cazares showed his son the baggy of cocaine and smiled the smile of a devil man.

------------------------------

Associated Press:

SCHENECTADY, N.Y. â€” A woman had her 5-year-old daughter and 2-month-old son with her as she took drugs and performed sex for money, New York police said.

Wendy Cook, 37, of Saratoga was arrested along with four other women during a prostitution sweep early Monday, according to Schenectady Police Lt. Brian Kilcullen.

Cook was arrested when she offered to perform a sex act on an undercover officer for money, Kilcullen said.

While Cook's children were in the car with her, she performed sex acts on at least two men for money, smoked crack cocaine in the car and even snorted cocaine off the infant's stomach while she was breastfeeding, Kilcullen said.

Cook is in Schenectady County Jail without bail on charges of prostitution and child endangerment, pending a court appearance Tuesday. Her children were turned over to family members.
-----------------------------------

Drug Addiction Weblog:

Unfortunately, many women face the realization that the only way they can support their crack cocaine habit is by prostituting themselves.

Some do it openly and often and others do it only as a straight trade for their crack cocaine. It is common in crack houses for women to trade sex for cocaine. Crack cocaine lowers a womanâ€™s self esteem. Many times, her appearance, hygiene and grooming begins to be neglected. It isnâ€™t long before using her body to pay for her drugs is not a big deal. That is not to say that some donâ€™t regret that they have to do it, but they do.

Street prostitutes are becoming crack cocaine addicts at alarming rates as well. Crack is a very addictive drug and it does damage to everyone who uses, but women in particular seem to feel the ill effects. After a while on crack cocaine, demeaning sex becomes almost the norm. Especially in crack houses where the woman has no control over what kind of sexual activity will take place, or for how long, or for how much of the drug.
----------------------------------------
Maureen McCormick (formerly little Marcia on the Brady Bunch, became a cocaine addict and whore):

DAILY NEWS --- Monday, October 13th 2008, 4:04 PM
Maureen McCormick says there weren't many sunshine days when she was swapping sex for cocaine

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia - naughty, naughty, naughty!

The "Brady Bunch" actress who starred as Marcia Brady admits in a new memoir she was a cocaine fiend who swapped sex for drugs, partied at the Playboy Mansion and bedded screen sibling Greg Brady.

Q: Do you remember the first time you took a hit?

A: Yes. It burnt my nose. I didnâ€™t feel anything for the first snort. After a couple more, I had this feeling that everything was perfect and great. I was on top of the world and I could do anything. I had an extremely addictive personality, and drugs just took over my life â€” 24 hours a day I was thinking about where I was going to get the next bit of cocaine. I had been addicted to coke since I was 20 years old. It was part of my everyday life; it was all-encompassing. It helped me hide a lot of my problems, numbed me out, and was a way of not dealing with things.
-----------------------------------------

Isabel Manchada (31 when she started prostituting, and now 35):

The night that Mr. Cazares lured me to copulate, with him with the purpose of inviting into me evil spirits, after I got home from my sexual attack -- what else may I call it? At a church! -- I was sinking into depression. I had been left alone by Alberto and his son in the parking lot. He made me walk almost to the street before he threw at me my clothes. I was near to tears from his cruel taunting.

Why did he have to shame me in that way? Had I already not submitted enough to his perverse sexual appetites?

I ran again behind the church, clutching my clothes to my breasts, running naked with the darkness of night hiding my shame. I dressed myself with jittery hands. How I shook! I drove home, and trying hard all through the drive to think of home and my daughters and husband -- they must never, never know of this, I said to myself as I pounded the steering wheel out of my exploding emotions.

But my thoughts were like pieces of sharp glass. I felt confusion and a sadness deep as a pit into Hell. I felt dirty beyond any experience comparable in my life.

My husband was still up, watching TV in the living room. I walked past him and took a shower, hoping he would not ask me anything. He was absorbed in a basketball game, thanks be to god.

That night in the bed we had slept in together for so many years, he touched my pussy and tried to have sex with me. I told him I did not feel well. I turned away. For the first time in my life, I felt myself to be not worthy of his affections. I was feeling so anxious. I could not sleep.

In the morning, I was so fatigued. And I had no appetite for breakfast. I tried to focus on getting my girls and husband off to school and work. I dropped a glass and it shattered in the kitchen and I screamed. I was so mad at myself! My husband came and tried to hug me. He said, It is just a glass, my sweetheart. And that only made worse my anxieties. He did not understand. It was not just a glass; it was my life shattering. I felt in danger.

The night before, I left the $50 dollars in the legging of my stockings. After my husband left, I went to the bedroom and took it out and held it in my hands and thought to myself, I am a puta! Oh my god. This is very bad.

I put the green bills to my nose and I could smell my pussy and the semen of those two cocks. I had opened my legs to a whore monger, and then to his underage son! Oh my god. This is very bad, I kept thinking. I was crazy with a new drug. I was crazy!

I put the bills separate from my other money in my purse, in a rubber band. I thought, I will go to that boy and throw at him his money and tell him that I am not a whore! But then I thought, I worked too hard for this money. In fact, he owes me more. He got me too cheap! The little bastard. To be fucking with a nasty underage boy, I should be paid $500! Not fifty!

Now he will always laugh at me behind my back and tell all his friends that he fucked me behind the church for just $50. Oh my god, all his young friends will ask me for the same deal! This is so very bad!

I tried to compose myself. I worked and worked at my makeup, but I kept putting on too much. My image of myself had changed. I could only see a painted Latina whore. I went to work grieving for my loss of innocence and decency. I was thinking all through the morning how could I fix this.

I thought, I must stop seeing Alberto. But then I thought, No, no. I love him so! I can control this. I just need to be more careful. I need to be more assertive. I have rights, too!

He cannot keep abusing me in these ways. And that morning, I did not call him. And that afternoon, instead of going to him for sex in the lunch hour, I went to the mall and I bought a pair of red high heels with the whore money.

I looked at the positives in my life. I am 31 years old, almost 32. And I have managed to hold my life together this far, even though I have been a cheating wife. I am respected by my family, by my church and co-workers. My husband, he loves me. Maybe I do not love him or appreciate him, but I can try. Yes. I will be a better wife.

But Mr. Cazares, my Alberto, he did not call me either that day. And this worried me. The next day, I called him in the morning and he was mad at me. He tells me, 'I don't have time for bitches who forget their place. You did not call me yesterday. Okay, then. Do not bother me. I have other bitches that I can fuck!'

I was so upset. All the day long, I am calling him back and leaving messages and trying to explain myself. And he does not return my calls.

I went home still upset, and I picked a fight with my daughters for not picking up their things. It was Friday evening, and I would not have an opportunity to see Alberto again until Sunday morning at church.

Sunday came, and his place was vacant! His wife came with their putita daughter and that baby boy. But no Alberto. My heart was aching so much that I went to the restroom and cried as I sat on the toilet pretending to piss.

Monday morning, I was again calling my Alberto, begging him to speak to me. I begged him to tell me anything, even his nastiest desires. I even told him that I would prostitute myself for him. 'I promise you, papi. I will fuck anyone that you want me to fuck. I promise you papi. Please, please pick up the phone!'

But he did not pick up. And the day passed and I was in such emotional distress. I would think, 'Why am I doing this? I must stop! I must stop! He is evil! When has he shown me kindness? How many times have I tried to kiss his sweet lips and he turns his head because he tells me I am not his wife, I am just a nasty puta. It hurts my heart that he lies so much about his feelings for me. I know he wants me!'

Tuesday morning came and again I am calling his office. This time he answer the phone and I am telling him I am so happy to hear from him and I am so in need of his attention for me. But all he would say was for me to be at a certain motel, at a certain motel room number at noon of this day.

I did not ask why. I hoped only that it would just be him and me. I promised to be there on time. I promised to dress sexy. But in my heart, I suspected that he had waiting for me a client.

I left early to lunch. I went to a restroom at a gas station. I changed from my office pant suit into a red mini dress. I left my panties in my purse, and I left also there my brassier. I had on only the mini dress, stockings and my new red high heels that I bought with my whore money. I wanted to tell my beloved Alberto how it was that I spent the whore money and that I was grateful for how he treated me.

At the motel, I pulled up and walked up the stairs to where Alberto had directed me. There was a long outdoor walkway with steel rail. And I saw at the door as I approached, three men. I felt a nausea in my stomach and a golf ball in my throat. Alberto was with two men that I did not know. I did not even recognize them from the construction site. They were complete strangers. One was tall and white with blond hair. The other was average size, stocky and black - un negrito. Both appeared to be in their 30s.

I hugged Alberto with both hands tight around his neck and cried, "Papi, please don't make me do this. Please. What am I? What have I done to deserve this? Please, papi, I beg you. I love you!"

He pulled away my arms and said, If you love me, you will obey. You know what excites me. You know what makes me happy.

I had tears in my eyes to the point they were filling up and tears ran down my brown cheeks. I gulped down my fear. I said I was sorry for neglecting him. I told him about the shoes.

He told me to get in the room. I refused and he dragged me inside by the force of his strong grip around my wrists. He was hurting me!

I was pushed to the bed and I sat up and folded my arms and shook my head, no! I said that no proper woman would do this. He reminded me that I was not a proper woman, that I was a cheating slut and happy to be one.

I admitted, 'Yes, but I am not, not ...'

'Not what? Eh?' he said it shouting so loud that it hurt my ears.

The men asked him if I was going to cooperate. He said that I would. I cried even louder and I stood up. He pushed me down so hard that my legs flew up and my bare pussy was for a moment exposed. I covered myself. Alberto pulled out a bag of cocaine and said, 'You need some of this.'

I shook my head no. 'No papi, don't do that again to me. Please no!'

But his mind was made up. He sat on my stomach and the men with him helped to hold me down. He made a solution and again injected the cocaine, this time into my arm. I felt the rush, so incredible. I had a vision of the demon pendant on the pig cord that I had thrown in the trunk of my car. It flashed before my eyes and I felt the demon take control. It was the demon's fault. It was Alberto's fault!

They pulled off my dress and I was made to sit on the bed sucking black and white cocks while Alberto rubbed my pussy with his fingers and agitated into a hot fire my body's passions.

I was suddenly so hungry for those cocks! I felt transformed. All my cares and worries disappeared like black magic. I was in a trance of wonder and the milking of these magnificent penises filled my human being with happiness and lust. I loved these strangers and their cocks. I was in an instant only to eager to please and make them happy. The cock sucking only lasted several minutes, but it was better for me than it was for them I think.

The black man said, 'I want to Dee Pee this ho now, Albert.'

I understood. I was led by their hands into an accommodating position. I sat on the black man who was lying on his back on the bed. I rode on his cock. It was nice and fat. Uyyy, papis! I rode alone on him for a few minutes.

Then the white man got behind us on the bed and penetrated into my ass. I had never been involved in a double penetration. I can barely describe it.

Their cocks were so tight, so demanding of my abilities to endure. I was screaming through it all. Ooooooo! Oooooo! Ayyyyy-Ayyyy-Ayyyyyy!

In the time that they were double fucking me, the rush of the cocaine went away and I collapsed into depression. I was craving more. I was so happy to fuck in one moment and then I crying for them to stop.

Alberto recognized my condition and he pulled on my arm while they fucked me and he put again the needle into me skin. I begged him not to, but at the same time I wanted him to.

I went up into a second rush and I was in whoring heaven. I praised my fuckers. I yelled to the ceiling that I was being fucked by gods. Alberto laughed and told me I was being fucked by devils, 'Gods do not give it that hot, puta!'

They pumped me like iron pistons fucking the inside of a bitch's hot engine. I was on fire and begging for more cock, more movements of fucking. I was again in a place that felt like the best moments of my life. I was living la vida loca. Ayyy, I was such a loca mamacita.

These stranger man devils fucked inside of me with all their lust, they told me how crazy they were for a hot Latina puta, and I wanted them to be crazy for me. My body shook to my core. I felt myself like a marathon runner of fucking.

'Ayyy si! Ayy si papis! Chingame, chingame, chingame hasta el Infierno!' (Oh yes. Oh yes daddies. Fuck me up. fuck me up! Fuck up all the way to Hell!)

I threw about my head and my eyes they was rolling up in my skull and I was cumming, cumming, cumming! I was delirious in the extremest way.

I wanted them to come back for more. I wanted them to know how good their cocks felt for me. They fucked me beyond the duration of my second cocaine rush.

And when my soul was sinking into the low, they expelled their semen inside my pussy and inside the canal of my asshole. Squirts of the man's sex juices squished inside and I felt their cocks race faster and harder and their curses and grunts come louder and meaner.

'Fuck this whore!' yelled the white man. 'Load up that cunt on nigger cum, bitch,' cursed at me the negrito.

I was in a deep, stinking, nasty low place in my heart and soul. I felt only the resignation that it was necessary to accept their judgment along with their semen.

The strangers lifted their bodies from me. Our fleshes separated and with the separation came deeper my profound sadness. I did not want them to leave me alone. They dressed themselves. And as they dressed, I cried into the stinking mattress. I cried so hard.

I heard the white man ask Alberto, 'What's her problem?'

Alberto said, 'She is new to this. Give her time. She will get better.'

I felt so trapped. I felt my heart and body in bondage to this man. I could not explain to myself the grip he had on me. It was his fault that I was whoring. His fault! How could he be without mercy? How could he not see that my love for him was pure?

After they left, he came back inside and I was still on the bed crying. He slapped my ass with his hand and I turned to look at him.

'They paid $200, one-hundred dollars each. Half is mine, and the motel room comes out of your half.'

He handed me forty-three dollars! I was in complete shock. What an insult.

I had fucked bare the cocks of two strangers. I had done my first double penetration. I had prostituted myself like a common street whore on a cocaine addiction for $43.

Alberto left me alone, without even giving me a kiss or a hug. I sat dazed and furious with my situation. I began to throw objects around the room in a childish tantrum.

What had become of me? What!?

My depression was so deep that I curled into a ball of naked stink on the bed and my mind went loopy thinking of all the wickedness I had done, going back to the first time I cheated on my husband with my supervisor more than ten years before. I resolved to myself that I would never see Alberto again.

I left the motel. I left alone and feeling like the most alone person in the world. Who was worse than me?

But I got back to work very late. I was so late in fact that my boss called me to his office. He complained that I had been missing too much work. I apologized and said that I would do better.

But he said it was too late for me. He had had enough of my absences. 'You are fired, Isabel. Gather your things from your desk now and leave.'

I was in shock. I begged him to reconsider. I was so desperate to hold on to my job that I even went to my knees and told him I would suck his cock if I could stay. But he was an honorable man, not a whore monger. It was foolish, I know. My actions in his office only repulsed him. He called security and I was escorted from the building.

I was again in tears in my car. What had I done? What could I do? How could I explain to my husband my dismissal. I could not tell him the truth, of the absences. How would I explain them?

There was nothing to do now, I believed, but to go to Alberto and beg for clients. I needed the money. I would have to hide from my husband that I had lost my job for being a lying, cheating slut.

The next morning, after my husband and my girls had left the house, I dressed myself like a puta. I put on brown bikini shorts so tight they showed the camel toe of my pussy. I did not wear panties. The brown fabric, it almost matched the color of my skin, so my bottom would look almost nude in public. For a top, I put on a brown denim vest and no bra, so that I could open the vest easily and flash to horny men my nice brown globes.

I put on red stockings and the elastic stopped three inches below the bottom of my tiny shorts on my upper thigh. I put on red high heels with the ankle strap - my preference in heels. I put on a silver bangle on my left wrist and I put on silver hoop earrings - big, 2-inch hoops.

I looked at myself in the full body mirror. Ay! I looked so hot and nasty for a mommy.

I got in my car in the garage and used the remote to open the garage door. I drove out and I drove around. I felt myself to be a condemned woman. I had sealed my fate. I could not imagine leaving Alberto. If this was the way he wanted me, this was the way - the only way for me.

I parked in the parking lot of a city park. I got out and walked around. I opened the trunk of my car and I found the demon pendant on the pig cord. I put it on. I felt the demon head with the tips of my fingers. I shut my eyes and slowly felt the warmth of lust -- yes, yes, let it come, I said. And soon, I felt the relief that comes when the pussy aches for hard cock.

I kissed the demon with my eyes closed and I reminded myself as much as my memory to produce of every detail of my night with Alberto in the church, of my afternoon with the two men who purchased my body for that incredible double-fucking. How they made me cum! Oh my god.

I said to myself, 'I need cock. I just need cock. I will be okay. Alberto will find me cock.'

I got on my cell phone. He answered. I did not want him to know that I had been fired from my job. I knew he would delight in the news of my misfortune. That only left more of my time to be devoted him and his evil plans for me. I tried to bargain with the devil.

'Alberto, papi,' I said.

'Yes, Isabel. How is my puta today. You feel better?'

'Oh papi, it is sweet of you to ask. Thank you for your concern. You love me, yes?'

'Yes, baby. I love my puta.'

This was the first time - the first time that he said to me that he loved me! I began to tear up. How I had waited, how I had worked to prove myself, how I had sacrificed to hear those words from this man!

'Papi,' I said, my voice shaking.

'Que pasa, mi putita?' he asked (What is happening my little whore?)

'I want to whore for you papi,' I said with my voice shaking. I knew he could hear my tears for I sniffed at the end of the sentence.

'I LIKE it!' I told him with complete sincerity. 'I like it what you do to me.'

And hear I cried loud into the phone. It was a horrible confession to make and not what I expected to come out of my mouth. I wanted to be more reserved, not so foolish as to bear to this devil my heart. But he had the talent to see my heart all along.

'I like how it feels to be the whore, papi,' I said with my sobbing. 'I need it. I want to fuck all the time now. Oh, you have made me so crazy!'

He was so conceited and sure of himself in his answer.

'Mmmm! Yes, baby. Yes, my love. I made you crazy. But now you know what you are, eh? You know what you need?'

I sniffed and nodded my head up and down violently, as if he was right in front of me to see my body language.

'Yes, papi. I know! I know what I am. Soy puta en mi entero. (I am a whore with my entire being). Guess what, mi Alberto. I quit my job yesterday!' -- I lied to my devil man.

'You did? Wow, mami. You didn't have to do that.'

'No, no no. I did. I could NOT stand being there anymore, papi. All I was thinking of all the day long that I was in that boring office was going to motels so that you could hook me up with men and make me WORK my PUSSY! Oh, papi, I love the FUCKING so much! I never knew it could feel so good!'

And it felt good then in that moment to confess, to surrender. I was no longer truly divided in my loyalties and in my distress over deciding between good and evil, between my family responsibilities and my sexual obsessions.

'Ha, ha haaaa!' he laughed at me. 'That's what I said, baby. You need the cock, eh?'

'Yes papi. I need it. I need it NOW. Right now! Please, I am ready. I am dressed very nasty for you papi. Can you hook me up? I want to whore myself in this very moment. Just promise me one little thing papi?'

What, baby? -- he asked me.

'No mas con la cocaina (no more cocaine). I will be a good girl, papi. I promise. I won't give you no more trouble. I know I am pura puta (pure whore). I will do the double fucking. I will do the orgies that you speak of. I will do it all. But, please promise me no more cocaina? Please?'

He laughed and I feared he would not agree, or lie to me then break a promise. But he said, 'Baby, I just do that to help you be honest with yourself. But now you are being honest, right?'

'Yes, papi. I'm being honest. No more lies. No more! I will be a good puta. Anytime, anywhere, with any man that you give me to.'

'That's what I'm talking about!' he said, and I felt a tight hot anger flash like a match in the pit of my stomach. He had defeated my will and now he was gloating.

But I was his. I belonged to him. He was my pimp. I knew this now. I had accepted it. And I knew there then, in that parking lot, that in time he would strip away from me everything of my past. And that is what came to be.

Alberto secretly passed evidence of my whoring to my husband. The bastard, he videotaped me doing a gang bang at a motel with six men! It was without my knowledge! By that time, I had been prostituting my body for Alberto for only three months after the day I lost my job.

Alberto, he emailed the video to my husband. My husband opened it at his office. And there was his wife, his precious bride, full of cocks and cum, and laughing like a whore and begging for more fucking -- 30 minutes of me acting without one shred of decency. He forwarded to me the email and made me watch it in our bedroom that night while he was holding my arms behind my back so hard I thought they would break.

He was so mad that he never spoke to me again. He just took the girls. He left me. He won custody of my girls.

I was so mad at Alberto. I tried to leave, but he beat me up and injected me every 30 minutes with cocaine for all of a day.. And all of that day and night, he had men coming to me, fucking me one after the other. He said he was teaching me a lesson. Fuck that! He just wanted me all to himself. He did not want to share me anymore with my family.

And now I have no family.

That is all. Here I am today. On the streets. Look at me in a clingy rayon miniskirt and a tube top, with my flat belly and my red stockings and red high heels. Eh? Do you like? You like to see a mature woman dressing like a whore.

Yes, I snort the cocaine. I like the cocaine! Ok? It helps me forget. It helps me fuck. It removes my appetite and keeps me thin and sexy. I am thinner than I have ever been! Uyyy! (and she twisted her hips, jutted her ass out and slapped it).

It helps with everything. 'Sniff!'

Alberto, he paired me up -- after my husband took the girls and threw me to the street -- Alberto paired me with two experienced whores. They both used the flake all the time. They would share with me. Eh! I needed it so bad! And you know what? It is not so terrible, to be hooked. I can not imagine life without La Coca-een-ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, haaa! Mmmm!

We were talking on South Presa Street, a working class Hispanic district on the southeast side of San Antonio, and about 13 miles from Isabel's old neighborhood and her lost life as a respectable woman.

South Presa is congested with old bars, cheap motels and auto repair shops, and warehouses. It has for generations been used by Latina whores as a place to walk and meet customers.

A beat-up car in need of a paint job passed slowly with a lone male driver. Isabel stuck out her tongue, wagging it at him as if she were tickling his balls. She pulled up her skirt to flash at him her pussy. She did not have on panties and the pussy was shaved.

'Hi papi! Hey! You want a date!' she yelled at him.

The car stopped. She walked over. Put her head through the driver's side window and they talked briefly. At one point, I saw her pull down her top to show him a nipple and he reached up and pinched it.

She squealed and laughed and looked around, then returned her attention to him. He would give her $10 for a fuck in his car -- enough money to split $5 for a line of coke and $5 for Alberto.

Then she walked around and waved goodbye to me. She opened the door and crawled inside the front seat. The driver gunned the gas and they disappeared into traffic.

** About the author: TeresaJ is the pen name for a 48-year-old woman living in south San Antonio. She grew up on Presa Street and saw the whores ply their trade in the open through all her upbringing. TeresaJ is a recovering substance abuser who knew personally many of the prostitutes in her neighborhood. Her sister and three of her female cousins are prostitutes. The characters in this story are fictional, but they are loosely based on the lives of people TeresaJ knew. She can be reached at: teejay3sums@excite.com

Church Whore 2: church-going mom and wife seduced into prostitution

teresaj — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 01:30:25 UTC

Alberto Cazares speaking:

That Isabel, heh, let me tell you, I could see her for what she was from the first Sunday she come in to church with her little girls. You want to know how easy it is to make a whore? Eh? Let me tell you, if you know what to look for it is too fuckin' easy. But you have to know what to look for.

And you have to be willing to do anything to get to the bitch, sabes? You have to have a killer's instinct.

Let me tell you, a whore is just a cheating bitch - that is all! If she has the wandering eye, she dress and paint herself just a little too much, it does not have to be too provocative, just know she is fishing for a man's eye - any man's eye.

Now you might think, but lots of women, they dress a little sexy and they are not whores. Yes, yes, that is true. So, there is more to look for.

It is this - and Mr. Cazares pointed a finger at his 17-year-old son who had hopes of following in his father's wicked ways - the whore, she sooner or later gives the invitation to be alone with her. You see? La puta, she is looking for trouble.

This woman, it was a common gossip among the women of the church that she had been unfaithful to her lazy husband. I did not know how evil the bitch was, but I knew enough to be interested, to get me a hard-on looking at her in church.

But there is more, and this is the most important part. A puta, she will let you tell her she is a puta. She may act offended, but to be called out, to be thrown in her face the title of 'puta' - eh? - this excites her, boy.

You tell her enough times, and she will let the news sink deep into her soul.

Mujer cochina, esa, (dirty woman, that one). I'm telling you the truth! I didn't do anything but put her in front of the mirror of her soul and tell her what she really was! Una zorra! (A skunk --- in Latin cultures, it is common to call a slut a skunk; this is a vulgar reference to the smell of a bitch that is constantly fucking, and of the white stripe on the back, a euphemism for a spine covered with semen).

Mr. Cazares adjusted his organ. He was getting aroused talking this way about Isabel Manchada. His son smiled and fondled his own organ. The ease with which he disrespected her was total, and his perceptions were conveyed unto the boy.

Man, I can't wait to fuck her, papa! the boy said after letting out a chuckle.

Mr. Cazares patted his son on the shoulder: That's my boy! Yes, you will. You will get to fuck that bitch, he said.

Cazares went on: After that first time, after she let me to treat her like a common whore in the utility closet of the church - ha, ha! - I did not have to call her anymore. I was no longer the hunter pursuing the little fishy. No. The little fishy, she was on the hook! She was calling me! She was begging me! 'Ay, papi,'

She say. 'When are you going to be with me again. I want you. I need you so bad, papi! How you make me crazy. Uyy! I am crazy for you, papi.'

La pendeja (the dumb girl), she has no clue how deep in the shit she is. She has no fuckin' clue what I am willing to do to get to a puta and put her pussy to work.

- - - - *** - - - -

Isabel:

After my first sexual experience with Mr. Cazares, oh my god, I was this bundle of nerves. All I could think of the rest of that Sunday was how could I get alone with him again. My stomach had no appetite for food. I couldn't eat or think of lunch, or even of dinner. I cooked for my daughters and husband and went without. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I just wanted privacy to recall every moment in that closet. What had happened to me there?

It was so intense, so unbelievably wicked what we had done.

I knew it was wrong, but I could not help myself. I wanted to relive every precious thrust of his cock inside of me. I wanted to remember every vicious word that he had spit like fiery arrows into my soul. I wanted to run from my home and be alone with him again. I felt like a deer chasing the hunter: 'Come! Here I am. Slay me. Skin me. Strip me bare to my bones!'

That Sunday night, I did not sleep. I only thought of him and our actions. It was not until four in the morning that sleep overcame me. And at 6 a.m., the alarm clock went off. With only two hours sleep, I pulled myself together, got my daughters up and to school, sent my husband out the door with a kiss and his cup of coffee. I dressed in a terrible hurry. I could not wait to get to the office and call Mr. Cazares. Forget waiting for him to call me and feed me my servings of dirty talk. I wanted him now!

And he was only too obliging. All morning, in between my clerical chores, I had his wicked voice streaming obscenities into my ear. He told me in a thousand ways what a hot whore I was. And there was no more being disagreeable with him on my part. I accepted his offenses. I said yes to everything. He even talked now of his
desire to introduce me in groups of men, for orgies! He told me how I would sell my body and for how much, and what I would do.

And I would say only, "Uy, papi! Oh noo! Mmmm, yes papi. Ayy, que nasty! Mmmm, ay papasito, the things you say. You make me blush. Mmm, papi, I'm hot for you now."

I took it all as erotic talk. Things a perverse older man would say to excite his new young lover, and to excite himself as well. I did not really believe any of it. How could I believe that he was serious?!

Mr. Cazares, he has a talent for drawing. Our conversation continued after lunch. I should say that I actually was in a begging mood and had hoped to go to his trailer at the construction site he was at. I offered to have sex with him there that very Monday during my lunch hour, but the bastard refused me! He wanted to tease me, to make me wait. Oh, how horny I was for him! What a fool I was turning out to be!

Instead of sex, he made me to be content for his dirty talks, and in the afternoon, he emailed me a drawing. It was a very accurate likeness of me made in pencil and colored inks of black and red, but in a most evil and sacrilegious pose he had me!

I was naked, a brown full-figured slut sitting with my bare ass on the open bible that lies on the altar in front of the pastor's pulpit. Little horns were protruding from my forehead. I had a devil's tail. I had my thighs open wide to an extension of exaggeration, and I was fucking my pussy with a wooden cross. My head was turned to my left, and beside me was a satanic figure - a red demon with horns. He was very tall and he had a huge red, veiny cock. I was holding the cock and sucking it, and semen was drooling down my chin, semen was dripping over my left breast, semen was dripping in liquid lines down my arm.

I protested! Papi, I told Mr. Cazares, this is too nasty! How can you think of me in this way?!

He laughed. He said, this is what I am doing to you. Get used to it, you horny bitch!

And I submitted again to him, pushing aside my moment of shock. Yes, papi, I said. Do it to me. Make me a she-devil whore.

I meant it, but I thought I would be only his. I would be his private puta in a way similar to my relationship with my first boss those years ago. Only, Mr. Cazares was not my supervisor, he was something very different.

I went home from work Monday in an agitated state. I was irritable with my family. All they demanded of me was a distraction and annoyances. I wanted to be with my new lover in the worst way.

I passed another long night next to my husband. As he snored, I turned in turmoil on my side of the bed. I touched myself and imagined again Mr. Cazares fucking me in the church closet. It was like this that I finally found sleep. I dreamed of a demon fucking me on the altar. I awoke still aching for cock. I was in a terrible state.

In the office on Tuesday, again I called Mr. Cazares. I told him with determination, 'I am going to your workplace at the lunch hour. I must see you. I can not wait more. Please, papi.'

He laughed and told me he was too busy. I begged. He laughed and demanded that I describe how it was that I should act if I go to him. I had to conjure for him sexual acts in detail. At first, I was timid and said simple things like I would suck his cock. But he wanted more and more details. He made suggestions. I must wear something sexy. I had come to work in my common work clothes. He said, get a miniskirt at the mall. 'Dress sexy, puta, if expect me to be hard for you.'

I hurried, leaving work early. I ran into the mall. I picked out a tiger print mini dress. It was tight and barely enough material to cover my ass. I put it on in the ladies restroom. I left the mall dressed like a puta and felt the hard stares of men of all ages. It was embarrassing. But I would bear their looks to please my man.

I arrived at the construction site and drove up to the trailer of the site supervisor. Mr. Cazares shared offices their with a project manager and a few other men.

I knew this much from our long conversations.

I walked up the steps, feeling my rear sway more than I preferred. But this dress must be catching men's eyes like honey to bees, I thought. I knocked on the door.

A man answered, 'Come on in.' It was not the voice of Mr. Cazares.

I entered and there I was in a large room with a long table and two desks and three men. None were Mr. Cazares. I asked, 'Mr. Cazares, he has office here, yes?'

They smiled at me and one pointed down the hall. I entered a door with the name Cazares on it. And inside was Mr. Cazares at one of two desks. The other desk belonged to his secretary, but she was not there.

'We are alone?' I asked my lover, and obviously I was nervous and anxious to begin again our love making. I locked the door behind me. I smile at him and wiggled my hips, 'You like my dress, papi?'

He licked his lips and nodded with approval. I stood up and walked around his desk. He sat on the other end of his desk and unzipped his pants. 'Show me what you are here for, baby,' he said.

I stroked his crotch. I squeezed the organ. I said, "Mmmm, is nice you cock, papi.'

I reach in for his penis. I bring it out. I bend over. I kiss his penis. I lick the dark meat of his loins. I open my mouth for my lover and I sucked him with my whole being radiant with desire for him.

He relaxed on this day and left me to work at loving his cock in my mouth. I let my mind to be absorbed in the act of milking his cock with my lips, my tongue, my throat. He whispered to me, 'Si puta, asi puta.' (Yes whore, like this whore.)

And when I would release his penis from my mouth to speak, I wished only to say, 'Soy puta solo por ti, soy tu putita.' (I am whore only for you. I am your little whore.)

The clocked ticked. And I sucked in my rhythm. He reminded me every few moments that I was good to be with him in this way, that I was going to be a good whore. He excited me with his dirty talk to the point that I had to finger my clit while I sucked him. I was happy then! I was so happy to be in his presence, alone on his cock.

He kept me at it for 30 minutes. I was impressed with his endurance. He had such great control. But the time came to use me in another way. He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up to the desk. He made me to sit with my legs wide and on the edge so he could introduce his penis into my vagina. He took into his strong big hands my buttocks and made sweet motions inside me. He fucked me and I told him that I loved how he made me feel.

'I love it papi. I love it like this. I love how you make me feel. Nnnnn, yes papi. Fuck me. Am I your nena, your sweet baby?'

But he was cruel. He thrusted into me and said, 'No, my wife is my nena. You are a fine bitch, but you are just a dirty puta.'

I protested. 'Ay no, papi. Please. Am I only that? Only that?'

He fucked me, and he disrespected me. And I accepted it all to be with him. How he made me crazy. He was a magnificent sex machine, fucking me so strong, so long.

He made me cum on his grand fucking cock. He made me call myself a puta. 'Ok, papi. I am a puta. But I am your puta!'

'Si mi cochina perrita (yes, my dirty bitch), that is what papi like to hear," he responded, and he pushed me, he pushed into me, he was always pushing me with his strong body and his hard words.

He pulled out of me, but not until I was satisfied with the fucking I had received. I filled me with passion, he made me yearn to surrender to his will. I left his office happy with myself, happy with our arrangement. He could make me glow, oh, how I had inside me a fire. It was my constant preoccupation to find ways to sneak away to Mr. Cazares and open my dark thighs to him. I needed to prove always to him that I could bend to his will and keep him happy and hungry for me.

The weeks passed and every day I called him. Every day I fed my soul on the erotic descriptions he would spin. I was like a butterfly trapped in the web of his words. I wanted only to have him wrap around me tight and consume me. I was in love. Oh my god, how I was in stupid, blind devotion to him.

Three, four and sometimes five times a week, I would succeed to steal myself away to a place of convenience. In the first weeks, I was always going into his office to consummate our sexual acts. Oh, and I must say, those were the happiest times of my life as a sexual being. He completed me. He made me feel so many deep emotions. He took every part of me. How invasive a man can be.

The skull fuckings, the ass-to-mouth, the spankings, the hair pulling. We were animals! Sometimes, he would press me naked against the window of his office, my breasts pushed flat against the glass. His son was often about - that boy did not go to school much - and Mr. Cazares would make me to let the boy watch from outside the window, my lover fucking me from behind. The nasty boy - how scandalous, eh? - he stroke his penis in his pants and even push the head of his brown boy cock over the belt to show me he was engorged and seeping semen from the pleasure of watching his father use his puta.

But in all this, I was only Mr. Cazares whore. All the talk of my being a gangbang slut, of selling my body - it was just talk. I could see Mr. Cazares only wanted me for himself. I felt secure in my passion for him.

Then one night, our relationship changed. He pushed me into something of pure evil. We had been lovers then four months. And I must confess that by this point my soul was in a state of complete rebellion from reality. I was neglecting my daughters and my husband. I was becoming sloppy at work and incurring annoyance from my
supervisors for my sloppiness and long phone conversations and long lunch absences. I wanted only to ride on Mr. Cazares cock and suck out of his balls his delicious thick milk.

But one night we conspired to repeat our sexual act in the church. It was a Wednesday night service, which are services always poorly attended. I did not bring my daughters, and he did not bring his family. After the service, we lingered. I talked with the pastor's wife about a fundraiser and Mr. Cazares talked with the pastor about repairs to the building.

We were the last four, and when the pastor and his wife departed, I pretended to leave in my car and Mr. Cazares pretended to leave in his truck. But we both circled back to the church and parked in the back to avoid notice. He had obtained a key from the pastor and I embraced Mr. Cazares at the rear entrance.

'Uy papi!' I said. 'We are so bad! I have yearned also to be joined with you in this sacred place.'

He kept reminding me in our weeks together of the evil picture of me on the altar. He drew me now to the altar. I tried to kiss him in front of the altar, but as always he pushed my lips from his face and I had to settle for kissing and licking at his chest.

His hands rolled and squeezed and pinched at my ass and hips. I was in a black skirt that was just above my knees. I was in a red blouse. I was wearing a black bra. I was not wearing panties at his request. I was in dark stockings that came to my upper thigh. I was in black high heels with leather ankle straps.

He helped me out of my blouse and bra in front of the altar in the dark church. There was only one dim red light from the stage. We were in darkness except for the dim red glow.

I undid my skirt by myself. I stood before my lover only in stockings and high heels. I smiled to him and I embraced him. I told him that I loved him, and he said to me, 'Then you love Satan.'

I said, 'No papi. I love you.'

He said, 'I am, in your case, the agent of Satan, and you are his puta if you are my puta.' He pulled from a pocket in his pants a Satanic pendant. It was a bronze demon's head on a cord made of pig skin he told to me.

I was of a rebellious heart, and I accepted the cord and pendant around my neck. The demon's head rested on my heart. He said to me, 'Kneel at your master's feet, puta.'

I knelt and he said, 'Repeat after me and swear with all your heart: Amo solo a Satanas (I love only Satan)'

There was a lump in my throat. I felt myself at a crossroads. There was a silence. He caressed my hair. I felt my obedience to him certain. I then spoke in repetition, 'Amo solo a Satanas.'

'Will you fuck on the altar and desecrate it in the name of your master, puta?'

I smiled and felt as if I was the star of a horror movie. "I will fuck on the altar and desecrate it in Satan's name.'

Take out your master's cock and suck it, puta.

I trembled in my whole body for what I was doing. The force of the sexual and spiritual taboos were so great that I could barely unzip his pants and hold in my hands his cock.

I felt the demon move on my heart as I sucked his penis. I felt my condemnation. I felt completely committed to Mr. Cazares. I felt it so strong that I began to understand the seriousness of my situation. I heard in my head the voice of insanity say to me 'I would do anything for this man.' It frightened me, but my inner dialog responded with a firm and rebellious, 'I do not care!'

My heart toward God was as cold as the tile under my knees. I loved my master completely. I wanted only to please him. I sucked with more energy on Mr. Cazares' cock and said to God, 'You see what I want? You see how I need to pleasures of the flesh? You make it too hard on me, God. I must serve another!'

'I am pleased with you, puta. You are obedient to my will and I will reward you as you deserve. Get up and rest and stomach and tits on the bible of the altar.'

I stood and turned and bended my body. I rested my stomach over the edge of the wooden altar, the silk table cloth under the bible pressed to my lower abdomen. My naked tits pressed into the pages of the open sacred book and the demon's head rested on the book and I felt deep inside my soul the laughing, laughing, laughing
to a wicked triumph over good.

Mr. Cazares rustled behind me. I waited for him to penetrate me, but he took his time. And as he did so, I taunted him, shaking my ass for him and moaning for his cock.

Then I felt him grab my left ankle in his hand. And I felt a prick. I asked, 'What is that, papi?'

He said, 'Don't worry about it. It is too late, anyway.'

I felt quickly a sudden rush of energy and euphoria and a jittery and profound sexual arousal. 'You put inside me a demon!' I cried.

I heard him unzip his pants. I was in a state of total obsession for his cock. 'Ay ay ayyyyy fuck me now papi, fuck me fuck me fuck me FUCK ME!'

He put the point of his cock at my pussy. He entered. He laughed as he began to fuck me. He said, 'Cocaine will awaken your demons to their full power.'

I was shocked. I was in the storm of overwhelming passions. Cocaine? I had never done drugs except for the occasional marijuana in high school.

But it was true his words. My demons were in control. I cried for his cock constantly. I begged him to fuck me harder. I laughed at God in my loudest voice. I boasted of my love for Satan. And Mr. Cazares, always, with every stroke, demanding I confess and proclaim my devotion, my status as his whore, and as Satan's whore.

I was insatiable for cock. And Mr. Cazares' cock was insatiable. How that organ moved inside me, thrusting and pushing me to wave after wave of squirting, fucking, screaming pleasure.

'Ay si, mi amor, mi querido Satanas, chingame con tu gran verga' I cried (Oh yes, my love, my beloved Satan, fuck me up with your great cock).

I came, and my Satanic man fucked me more. His smooth, gently slapping testicles teasing my labia as his penis drove deep into my body, and his words wrapped my soul tighter and tighter inside the iron fist of his evil will.

I began to improvise and volunteer my own phrases of devotion: 'I want only to serve you, master. I love you Satan. I love you with all my wicked heart. I am a cheating little bitch for you.'

And then I said it. I said it for the first time with all conviction: 'I want to sell my body to whore mongers, for you master, to please you!'

And to this, he said, 'Yesssss!' And his cock picked up the pace. He raced to spit semen into my womb. And as his cock ejaculated the thick milk into me he began to spank my ass cheeks and thighs with all his might.

I was intoxicated with cocaine, yes, but that only accentuated my lust and the influence of my demon impressions.

When Mr. Cazares was done moving inside of me, I rested over the altar, the sole of my high-heels again planted firmly to the tile. I felt the rush of cocaine subside. I felt my being drifting like a wrecked ship out of a storm. I felt moments of sobriety and moments of dread under the enormity of my sin.

I looked around in the darkness and pushed back at the fear. I stood, unsteady on my feet, and turned and smiled at my beloved tormentor.

I asked him, 'What now?'

'Funny you should ask, puta,' he said. He lowered himself to pick up my clothes from the floor. He said, 'March, out the back like you came.'

I walked in my nakedness to the back door and turned there to reach for my clothes. He refused to hand them over. 'Walk out naked, puta.'

I was shaken, and I begged, 'Papi, don't be mean.'

'I am not your papi. I am your master. I own you, bitch.'

I felt now that this was enough of games. I insisted that he give me my clothes. He instead opened the door and pushed me outside. And there by the back door was his son. 'Lie on the grass and open your legs for the boy, puta,' he said to me in a voice that I had become familiar with; he was deadly serious.

I felt a moment of light headedness. I felt a moment of shame. Then I shrugged. What was fucking a minor in the grass compared to what I had done in the sanctuary.

I lowered myself, and I sat on the grass, and I laid on my back and his boy chuckled and lowered his pants and knelt between my legs.

The demon was still resting on my heart. I felt myself black and wicked and I felt the semen of Mr. Cazares in my wet pussy.

His boy aligned his body to mine with confidence. I could see he was already experienced. He penetrated into me with ease and began to fondle my right breast as he fucked me behind the church building. My back was wet with dew. My body was cold and hot.

I felt nothing for the boy, but I shut my eyes and felt the pleasant stirrings of sexual intercourse. He pinched my nipple and I opened my eyes in response.

Mr. Cazares came to my side and knelt. I had a lump in my throat. What I was doing for him, no decent woman would ever do in a million years. He held on to a foolish hope that he had feelings for me.

Mr. Cazares played with my other breast and then he held the demon head pendant in his hand and brought it to my lips. 'Lick the demon, kiss the demon.'

I licked the demon. I kissed the demon. I heard a laugh in my soul. I looked at the boy. He was deranged with lust, and he lunged into me with all his boyish

strength. The boy grunted and cursed as he ejaculated into me, 'Nnnn, puta prieta, toma mi leche, te chingo mamacita.' (Nnnn, dark whore, take my semen, I fuck you up little mother.)

I smiled and let a wave of wickedness flow through me. I clenched his cock with my hot, wet Latina pussy. I reached for the pendant and stared at the demon inches from my face as the boy continued to jerk and stroke inside me. I giggled, and then the giggle grew to a thick and husky laugh and I kissed again the demon.

When the boy was finished, he pulled up his pants and reached for a back pocket. He pulled out money and rolled it into the shape of a skinny cigarette. He stuffed the money into my pussy.

I reached for it and took the sticky bills apart. I had in my hands two twenties and a ten. Mr. Cazares looked at me and said, 'Your first client, puta. Now you are in business.'

I laughed. I was no longer in doubts that it was not a joke. I looked forward, thinking it would be nasty fun to let Mr. Cazares prostitute me from time to time.

As long as it was our little secret.

But his intentions were more extreme. I did not realize his true ambition was to ruin me completely. He wanted to separate me from everything I held dear. He wanted a full time streetwalker. A time would come when it would not be enough for me to fuck and suck twenty men in a day, seven days a week.

Church Whore: church-going mom strays into prostitution

teresaj — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 03:14:38 UTC

I was standing in front of the last pew, the corner seat by the center aisle, with my daughters to my right, and across the aisle was Mr. Cazares standing next to his wife.

Their teen daughter, Amanda, stood on the other side of Mrs. Cazares. Amanda was shame-faced, as she had been of late - not nearly as prideful and arrogant as she had been - and holding in her arms the baby boy she bore out of wedlock.

The congregation sang, as did I while I made furtive glances across the aisle at Mr. Cazares' shoes, not daring to look directly at him.

I was 31, and my daughters were 11 and 7 years of age. What I am recollecting now happened four years ago.

Mr. Cazares was a womanizer, but that was not well known. What was known was that he was a deacon in our modest church, and he had a wicked sinner's past.

He spent six years in the penitentiary. He told people the conviction was for trafficking in narcotics. That wasn't true. He did time for pimping. He was a 'reformed' whore maker, also a lie. He still very much had a passion for turning decent women into whores.

To the public eye, he made an honest living these days. He was a construction contractor. He had a crew and he laid concrete foundations.

But he was fucking his secretary and pimping her and her daughter on the side. It turned out, although I did not know it that day, that he was also a horrible influence on his very own daughter.

Oh, he did not fuck her himself. But he could not resist corrupting her. He went against his wife when it came to disciplining the girl. He spoiled her knowing full well she would get into deep trouble.

He was a habitual enabler. He recruited one of his employees - a 20-year-old man of ill repute - to date his then 15-year-old daughter. Her 'boyfriend' was encourage by Amanda's father to teach her the lifestyle of a party girl, a slut. His employee succeeded unto Mr. Cazares' wildest dreams.

At her father's instructions, and with his financing, Amanda's boyfriend would pay for the motel where they would have sex. Amanda's mother thought she was spending these evenings with the daughter of Mr. Cazares' secretary, but that was another ruse. The secretary's daughter would make the obligatory appearance to pick Amanda up, then hand her off to her 20-year-old boyfriend.

The boyfriend took her to a cheap motel across the highway from a truck stop. The motel was frequented by prostitutes who 'dated' men at the truck stop. It was practically a brothel and early into Amanda's relationship with her boyfriend she was introduced to several whores with the intent that friendships would develop, and these friendships did occur.

It was all part of Mr. Cazares' plan to surround his daughter with wicked influences.

While her father helped hide her activities and whereabouts from her mother, Amanda turned into a wild girl -- getting stoned and fucking. And she convinced herself with the help of her new friends that there were no serious consequences for having multiples sex partners with the men her boyfriend brought to their parties.

After awhile, and under such bad influences, it didn't even phase her when her boyfriend suggested that she sell her body. Her prostitute 'friends' boasted of the money she could make and it was too enticing. Shortly before she reached her 18th birthday, she succumbed to the lure of money and to her own now insatiable lusts for dirty sex.

She was fucking all the truckers that her bad boy lover, and eventual pimp, lined her up with, right up until the pregnancy.

The pregnancy was a big blow to Amanda's ego. She was such a beautiful Mexican maiden. She had green eyes, was 5 feet and 6 inches tall, 128 pounds before the pregnancy, very dark brown in skin tone. She had a 36C-24-36 figure and shoulder length straight black hair.

Getting knocked up didn't happen right away. She had the good sense to get on the pill. She didn't have the good sense to remember her daily dose when she was getting stoned.

But she fucked around for almost four years - long enough to have ruined her reputation and mortified her mother by the time she was 19 and eight months pregnant. Now she was 19 and two months post-birth and back in church. She wanted an abortion, but her mother would not stand for that.

But this story is not so much about her. It is about me. My name is Isabel Manchada. And had I known all about Amanda's life and her father's role in it, I might not have got involved with him.

I am married to a decent man, or I should say I was at the time. He just happened to have no interest in church. He was also a fat, lazy husband with no ambition, content to waste his life in middle management at a lousy company with lousy pay and few benefits.

So, I took it upon myself to take our daughters to church alone. Our church -- I call it the brown trash church. We are predominantly low-income, Mexican-Americans in a small south Texas town near San Antonio.

These families scratch a living working on nearby farms, or in the construction or service trades. We are poor and for the most part not well educated.

I finished high school and I finished 18 months study in a junior college to get certified for clerical work. That makes me one of the most educated members of the church, but not the wisest!

I used to work in an office. But now, at age 34, I am just a prostitute - yes, a common streetwalker.. I lost custody of my daughters in the divorce. I live alone.

I have always gone to church, although not always to this church I am referring to. It was a protestant church - not Catholic, which most people just assume would be the case because I am Mexicana.

I am 5 feet and 5 inches tall, and I weigh 145 pounds. I have long black wavy hair that flows down to the small of my back, and dark brown skin. My figure is 38D-30-38. I have full red lips and the high broad cheekbones and broad nose of my Native American heritage. I have a bubble butt and thick, firm brown thighs. I wear a size 8 shoe. My eyes are brown.

I pluck my eyebrows and use a brow stencil. I've considered tattooing in the eyebrows, but I think that looks too, too chola. I trim my pubic hair into a triangle, and I have a tattoo of a red apple on my left ass cheek; out of the apple sticks the head of a snake with its forked tongue licking the crack of my ass. I got that tattoo after Mr. Cazares put me on the street to whore for him.

I also have a tattoo of a small cross on the right side of my neck.

And I wear a tongue bar now for the obvious reason - men like the feel of it against their cock when I am giving oral sex. But I had no piercings except for earrings when our sexual relationship started.

Few people dress up at our church. I had even seen married women with children show up there in short cut-off bluejeans, sandals and tube tops. Seriously!

I was not that bad. In fact, before I got involved with Mr. Cazares, I dressed very nice to church. But after we started fucking, I started sliding into a sleazier self-image. It was what he wanted more than what I wanted. Why did I keep giving in to him? How did he have such a powerful hold over my emotions? He ruined me completely!

On this particular Sunday, I had been self-conscious that he was always checking me out when he thought no one was looking. It made me so horny!. And he was very persistent about trying to catch my eye.

He was 45 years old, 14 years my senior. I might not have been affected were it not for the fact that despite his age he radiated an earthy virility. He was tall, dark and muscular.

He was 5 feet - 11 inches tall, about 200 pounds, and kept his hair cut short. He dressed like a gentleman - never came to church in a t-shirt or even a polo shirt. He was always in a nice, long-sleeve dress shirt and dress slacks, and he had these amazing thick thighs that filled out those pants - OMG! How I loved to look at his thighs and imagine them slapping against me.

His black leather shoes always shined and they seemed to call me to my knees, the sparkling of those spit-polished shoes seemed to speak to me, "Kiss my feet, bow down to me!"

I admit my clothing might have been a little provocative. I dressed to be noticed and I always longed for compliments about my beauty. I was a vain woman! I liked tight-fitting skirts and blouses. But I didn't show that much skin. I was just proud of my figure and wanted to dress in skirts and tops that were a size too small. It was my vanity, I suppose, but he liked looking at me more than he liked looking at his wife or any other woman in church. That much was obvious.

He would whisper to me, "Ahh, Isabel. You are easy on the eyes -- sssuch a beautiful woman!"

I do not know how he got my phone number, but he started calling me at the office. He would flirt on the phone and invite me to whatever construction site he was at -- "For a quickie, what do you say, sweet child?"

I would rebuff him. I would tell him he was married, and so was I, and that this was impossible. But I never had the nerve to tell my husband, or anyone else. I did not want to be causing more trouble.

But he had an effect on me. I had to admit that I was aroused. The very idea of having the opportunity to have an extra-marital adventure, to be naughty with such a virile man - that kept me thinking of him and the wicked things he told me.

Oh, it is not like I was a saint. I was not. I had been sexually active since the age of 15. And even after I married my husband at age 19, I had succumbed to temptation.

I had a job early in my marriage where I gave in to my supervisor's demands for sex; he offered me money for sex and it excited me to be his personal prostitute.

My monthly 'bonuses' always involved a trip to his office with the door locked behind me, and me stripping naked for him, me bending myself over his desk so he could fuck me in the asshole because his wife would not permit him to be doing that.

For an extra $400 a month, I gave in to my boss six to eight times a month. It was always the same. Go to his office. Get naked. Bend over the desk. Take his cock up the ass, then kneel and suck his shit-greased cock until he came on my face. He loved to give me the facials and make me wipe his cum with a hanky I kept in my purse.

But after having sexual relations with him for six months, guilt finally overwhelmed me and I quit my job. "How could I be such a filthy whore?" I asked myself.

I was ashamed at how easily he made me enjoy the way he degraded me. The self-loathing ended a few months after I quit, but the urge to do the nasty outside of marriage lingered inside of me.

At my next job, I had an affair with a co-worker. But the opposite happened - although, I was excited to sneak around and cheat with him, he got cold feet eleven months into the affair. His wife was suspicious and he ended the affair.

By the time Mr. Cazares had started hitting on my, I had been behaving myself for six years. I was so fucking bored with the sex life I had with my husband. I was bored with life in general. And perhaps too predisposed for having a wicked adventure.

Still, to have sex with someone I went to church with! That made me hesitate. It seemed terribly complicated.

There were so many people around that might notice, and to have to maneuver around my daughters! I had never had an affair anywhere outside the workplace. I felt very uncomfortable about taking a chance with this man.

But I would not refuse his phone calls. And he knew it. Every time he called me at work, I picked up the phone. I listened to his filthy suggestions. He talked dirty to me, and I would listen. And the more I listened, the more disgusting his sexual descriptions became.

He became so brazen that he would insult me from the first greeting. The phone would ring, and I would lift the receiver and he would say, "Sos cachonda por mi, puta? Ya estas mojada, verdad?" (Are you horny for me, whore? You are already wet, true?)

And from the start of our conversations, I would blush and my pussy would ache. I suppose, no doubt, it encouraged him to go on, knowing that I would not hang up -- at least never right away. He knew I was letting talk his rude voice speak wickedness into my ear until I was so upset that I had to go to the restroom and masturbate.

He would go into elaborate and graphic detail about how he was going to make me crazy for his cock, about how he was going to turn me into a slut. He kept telling me that I was one, that he could spot one a mile away and he knew I was one. I just needed to hook up with the right man to "bring out my inner whore."

"And you are the man to do this? Hah!" I would say, trying to sound skeptical.

I got into a playful phone banter with him, deriding him, calling him a dirty old man, a pervert. But for some reason, I could not bring myself to insist that he must stop calling, or that he must please leave me alone.

His talk would arouse me. I would think of him when I was in bed at night with my husband. I thought of Mr. Cazares as I licked and sucked my husband's cock. I thought of Mr. Cazares as I rode on my husband's cock.

I was slipping. I felt myself becoming more and more oriented toward Mr. Cazares' needs. When he would be near me in the social hall during a Sunday after-service lunch, I would find his hand on my knee and not object. On the occasions where he was close to me in church, he took shameful liberties - pinching my ass, brushing a hard-on against my thigh, slipping a hand up my skirt until - I, in panic, - would grab his hand and shove it away.

We passed each other by the restrooms once. I was leaving the woman's restroom and he was supposedly about the enter then men's restroom. He put a hand on my ass and invited me into the men's restroom to suck his cock. I stood there blushing while he squeezed my ass.

He said, "Let's go. Let me cum in your mouth, Isabel. Now!"

I could see his cock was hard and throbbing against his thick upper thigh; he had adjusted his organ to make the penis fall out of his briefs just for my viewing.

I wanted to give in, but I mustered the willpower to pull free of him and go back to the Sunday service. Oh, but how wet I was, thinking of being on my knees for him, milking his cock. How my heart pounded in my chest! Women are only human, and the flesh it is weak.

On this particular Sunday, on the day I finally gave in to him, my willpower had crumbled away. I had decided to give in to him at the very next opportunity. We had been having these exchanges for weeks. I was dying to open my thighs to him.

We were in song, and I was looking out of my hymn book constantly, looking his way. It took me awhile to get the nerve to move my eyes up from his shoes to his eyes. He caught my glances and I felt a flood of hot blood to my dark breasts. He nodded at me, a questioning, "yes?" with his facial expressions and movements of his head.

I bit my lower lip in his direction. I must have looked a sight! So needy.

I pressed the palm of my hand to my abdomen and reached down below the cheap black vynil belt at my waist, and I and scrunched the fabric of my skirt into my shaking fist. I pulled up at my short tight skirt, then down. Up and down, up and down, the fabric of my skirt in movement, as if it were being moved around by the physical molestations of a horny man. I made this movement four times.

This was the sign he had instructed me to give him, "When you are ready to be my whore," he had said over and over and over.

He was aroused. He reached for his groin and adjusted his organ. I could bear this tension no longer. I put down the hymn and told my daughters I would be back momentarily, that I needed to use the restroom.

I walked toward the restroom with a choking lump in my throat and my face red with shame; I knew he would not treat me like a lover. He would not be gentle or sweet. He had always been clear that he would treat me like a whoring bitch, and give me "a hardcore fucking!"

I walked to the back of the sanctuary and waited behind the baptismal pool in the hallway that led to the restrooms. Mr. Cazares appeared behind me moments later. I had such butterflies! All my senses were roiling and my whole body was in the turmoil brought on by my raging lust and the knowledge that the moment of my surrender was at hand.

He took my hand and led me past the restrooms and into the utility closet. He pushed aside the mops, brooms and mop bucket. He embraced me in the darkness that enveloped us when he shut the door.

He had one hand on my behind, squeezing my coffee brown buttock cheek, he had his other hand unbuttoning my blouse. There was no kissing, although I hoped that we might.

He pulled up my skirt and worked his right hand inside the elastic of my high-cut pink panties. His hand was bare on the flesh of my buttock. He squeezed it and squeezed it and made me want for more. His left hand deftly undid my bra and he squeezed my 38-D brown right breast.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"You," I responded.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"Yes you do! You know! You know that you are a slut! Don't you?"

"No," I protested.

The fingers of his right hand dug into the crack of my buttock. He forced a digit up my anus. The finger skin was hard and calloused and it scratched inside my sphincter raw. He pulled me to him hard. I felt his erection throb against the skin of lower abdomen as I pulled up my blouse and unzipped my skirt.

"Puta calientita!" he said, calling me a hot, horny whore in Spanish.

"Nooo," I groaned, but increasingly, it sounded like the truth. What was I doing?! I craned my face toward his mouth and offered my lips to his.

"I'm not going to kiss you, you little cocksucker," he said. "I'm going to put your nasty mouth on my cock and you are going to do your business, you hear me!?"

His right hand pulled out of my anus and slid around inside my panties to my pussy and he started finger-fucking me furiously.

"Nnnnnn!" I moaned, now intoxicated with forbidden desires. I actually felt myself needing to hear him call me a whore and in the same instant hating myself for being such an obsessed and foolish woman.

He fingered me until I was dripping wet. Then he said, "Agachate a tus rodillas, puta!" (Get down to your knees, whore!)

And I knelt. I exhaled with the force of my surrender. "Down! Submit! I can resist no more!" These were my thoughts. But even then, I did not really believe he would make me a prostitute. For me, it was just dirty talk to make the sex act more exciting.

I felt my stocking covered knees press into the hard, scratchy concrete floor. I unzipped his pants with shaking, red-painted fingernails glistening in the dim light. I can still see in my mind my colored fingernails at his zipper!

I reached in. I felt his dark, fat, brown, hot, hard cock in my hand. I pulled on it and it sprang out and slapped my chin. I could smell the musk of his organ - Mr. Cazares' wicked, delicious cock.

I opened my mouth and I felt the tip of my tongue against the fleshy, dark and hooded foreskin of his uncut cock. My tongue danced there. My eyes wide open, I could barely see his cock in the darkness.

"Chupame la verga, puta!" he said in a hoarse, crude Mexican baritone voice (Suck my cock, whore!).

I felt him softly fucking his cock into my mouth. I felt the hood pop back as his bulbous cock head flared on the flat of my tongue. He pressed the palms of his hands against the sides of my head. He covered my ears with his hands and the sound of my sucking on his cock was muffled.

The inner sounds passing through my mouth to my ear channel took on a new dimension. I thought this might be what it is like sucking cock underwater.

I worked my neck and tongue and bobbed my head on his penis. I felt his large soft testicles soothing against my chin.

He returned my motions with fuck thrusts of his own. I was so wet for him! I had never been in the throes of lust to these extremes of emotions. I felt such an incredible urgency to give in, to please him. And, yes, to be his dirty whore.

I felt my yellow 14K gold wedding band heat up against his hot, hard cock. And that rich, wicked sense of betrayal that filled my soul during my other extra-marital affairs came back. I felt sin fill me in a seductive and familiar way, but this time with much greater strength. After all, I was a cheating wife sucking another man's cock in church!

"Voy a meter dentro tu alma un demonio, puta sucia," Mr. Cazares said, (I will put inside your soul a demon, dirty whore!).

His demonic speak only heated me with the desire to go over another edge. And it was so hot in that confined space, in that wicked darkness -- and I have always been a woman believing in spirits - that I believed with strong conviction that there were with us demons helping him seduce me. I was the victim, the sacrifice in some spiritual battle.

And he fucked my mouth with such urgency. He was enjoying himself immensely and in the darkness, listening to his lewd whispers and piggish groans, i felt Satan was in him and I was sucking on something more than just a man's penis.

I felt the excitement that comes from knowing I was being completely selfish. I sucked at his root with raging greed. And he fucked my throat with equal intent.

He began fucking my throat so fiercely, I thought he would cum down my throat. But he did not. He pulled out and told me to stand, turn and bend over. When I was bent and offering him my backside, he pulled down my panties to my knees and my skirt up across my back and slammed his cock into my dripping hot pussy.

"Ohhhhh," I just had to moan. It was so rich feeling him pound my pussy!

He slammed into me steadily. I could hear his groin and balls slap against my ass and pussy. It sounded so loud! I was afraid someone might walk by the closet and hear his cock slapping into me. But that just excited me more.

His big, strong, dark, calloused hands held my hips tight. He fucked me and called me a good whore, "Buena puta!"

His left hand left my hips and grabbed my head and shook it up and down to force my agreement.

"Sos buena puta?" he asked (Are you a good whore?).

"Yesss," I said, finally giving in to his interrogating method.

It was so dark and hot. I felt like I was making such a horrible sin against God that I was just outside the doorway to Hell itself. We both breathed heavily. We both moaned with lust full filled. We both sweated like gluttonous pigs.

His driving, demanding, merciless cock moved inside me with unrelenting speed - filling me, stretching me, awakening me to lower and lower depths. He grabbed my hair at one point so hard that my neck and back were stretched so tight the stress was beyond what I could bear and I moaned, "Aahhh!"

As he fucked me, he bit into my top left shoulder by the neck, then sucked and sucked and sucked so hard that I knew he left on me a big red hickey.

Luckily, I thought, my blouse had a collar!

His hands roamed all over my body as he fucked his delicious, probing fat penis into my pussy. He was an expert at finding erotic places I did not know I had. He massaged my neck. He pushed and pinched at my diaphragm, then those hands roamed strong and sure up to my breasts and throat. He slapped my thighs with his hands. His thighs slapped my ass and I loved it!

"Dame mas!" I exclaimed (Give me more!)

He asked me again and again if I was a whore. And with each interrogation, my willing "Yes" came with more conviction and more enthusiasm. He had control of me, and in my sexual desperation I wanted to give him control of me. I wanted never to have his forceful cock and wicked tongue and confident strong hands separated from me.

He rocked his cock into me with more speed. He was more excited with each success at getting me to confess my whoring heart to him. Mr. Cazares told me he was going to cum in my pussy. I told him I wanted him to cum in my pussy.

And as he ejaculated into me, he said, "Cuida mi leche, puta. Toma nena! Perrita! No la vas a limpiar, tonta. Eh? Quiero que te sientas con la congregacion llena de mi leche, cochina!"

(Take care of my sperm, whore. Take it, little girl! Little bitch! Don't clean yourself, you fool. Ok. I want you to go sit with the congregation full of my cum, dirty girl.)

And as he spoke each phrase, in my lust I said, "Yes!" I felt his cock pulse and stroke deep, ejaculating sperm into me. And I said, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He pulled himself together, then told me to wait two minutes before I came back.

I stood in the darkness of the hot closet alone, my clothes all out of place. And all I could think of was when would be the next time? I couldn't wait to have him use me again. I gathered myself together, then I carefully slipped out of the utility closet and looked myself over in the hall. My stockings were ripped at the knees and my knees were bleeding!

I stepped into the women's restroom and took my stockings off and threw them in the trash can. I was mortified. People would notice that I came to church with stockings and now had none! But it would be even more obvious to walk back into the sanctuary with ripped stockings. I slipped out a rear exit, and walked around the building and came back into the sanctuary from the rear. I slid as quietly as I could next to my daughters.

My heart pounded so hard in my chest! I felt Mr. Cazares semen seep and slip just inside the lips of my vagina. I felt shame. I had returned to my old cheating ways, only this time it was much worse. It was so much worse than anything I had done before. Of that, I was sure. My other lovers didn't have the effect on me that Mr. Cazares did.

I was afraid of him. I was afraid of what he might get me to do next.