Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Life in general has been somewhat shitty lately.  Of course, life is always
shitty, for most people at least.  It's all about the little moments, the
good mixed in with the bad.  I've been reading up on Ben Franklin lately
and found that when he was young (close to 20) and staying in London
(having traveled there to purchase a printing press through credit promised
him {but never delivered} by the Governor of Pennsylvania) he wrote a
pamphlet in response to the work of another man with whom he did not agree.
This other gentleman had shared his views on life and spirituality, and
Franklin rebutted this by suggesting that all men have equal joy and equal
hardship and that God has almost nothing to do with it all, as we are
insignificant to Him anyway.  He claimed that the only difference we might
see in our joys and problems from that of another is how we recognize and
appreciate them, and stated that the bad times aren't really bad times,
since without them, we could never appreciate the good times as much as we
do.

   He went on later in life to change his mind on many of the points that
he shared in this leaflet, but I do see some truth in a lot of what he
wrote.  Even if it's not something to live by, it is something to consider.

   I should point out that this is going to be a long story.  I should not
be surprised if no one makes it all the way to the end, but I think that if
you do, you'll be glad you did.  The story takes a little time to get good.

   So, in any case, things have been rough.  I've finally decided to give
up trying to find work and apply for disability, and while I'm waiting, to
get on welfare.  I did manage to work a bit last year, though not for very
long, and during another part of the year I was receiving unemployment.  I
also attended college for part of the year.  As a result, I did alright on
my tax return.  While I was working I had made sure to have a lot put aside
for taxes, just in case.  Apparently I didn't need to, so I not only got
all my money refunded, plus a little extra (oddly enough) due to an
interesting loophole regarding this year's education credit, that allows
you to receive a refund, even if you didn't put any money aside for taxes.

   So I paid some bills and purchased some things that I needed and got a
few bills paid in advance.  I also decided now that I had some extra
scratch on hand, I'd use it to have a little fun gettin' some strange.  I'm
single for the time being, and given my current life situations, I'm not
inclined to change that.  With no real money coming in I just don't feel
like I could participate in a relationship the way that a person my age
should.  In my time, when not in relationships, I've explored different
forms of prostitution, at most points for interest, but at many for lust
and satisfaction.

   I've experienced straight up street whores with some pleasant results as
well as a few nightmares, but both are interesting, and provide fond and
sometimes funny memories to think on.  I've frequented many a massage
parlor and learned a lot about the culture found there.  I've tested the
limits at a number of strip clubs and have pushed and even broken the rules
at a number of establishments.  Also, I have tested the waters of the
average and high class escort pools and have found them quite fine.  It was
here that I recently chose to find my utopia.

   I first tried out an escort service when I was 24.  I had an OK job at
the time and was living alone which gave me no end of privacy.  It wasn't
exactly a high class agency.  It featured very reasonable pricing and even
nice discounts, like a free half hour during the week between 9AM and 5PM.
Since I worked nights, that worked out rather nicely, whether it was a
working day or not.

   It cost me about $150 to have a girl come from the nearest metropolitan
area to my home.  When she got there I tipped her about $75, seeing as how
she only gets half the fee.  That gave her $150 for the hour and a half
(don't forget that free half hour) and she was happy to do almost anything
I liked (she wasn't crazy about anal, but was willin' for the shillin'). 
We started by taking a shower together (any Teddy Pendergrass fans out
there?  "Let's take a shower, a shower together.  I'll wash your body and
you'll wash mine...") and having some sweet, slippery fun under the nozzle,
and once we got squeaky clean, we relocated to the bedroom section of my
studio apartment and had a grand time on (and around) the bed.  I like to
make a girl come and though I wasn't exactly an expert at the time, I was
still pretty good, and just my skills at giving head were good enough for
her.  She came three times to my once (during some nice cowgirl sex), and
though I could have come again (and again, and again), I chose to spend the
rest of my time cuddling (sorry guys, that's just the brand of cat I am)
and going through my music collection on my PC and talking movies.

   She apparently enjoyed herself quite a bit and suggested that I take her
number, but bade me to keep this secret from her employers, and call her
whenever I wanted to have some fun.  She promised me cheaper rates that
what I was paying the agency, with the added bonus of not having to tip. 
She figured a hundred an hour would do fine and if we went a little over
here and there, that was fine.  She also offered nice deals for spending
large amounts of time together.  5 Bennies would get me a nice 8 hour day
or night.  I did take her up on that, and sometimes we only spent a
fraction of the time fucking (45 minutes is the shortest I remember, the
rest was spent either out of the apartment, or in the apartment watching
movies, listening to music, eating, bullshitting, what have you...), but it
was all wonderful.  About a year later something happened, I never found
out what, but I could no longer get a hold of her.  Maybe I should have
made a move to change our situation from client and provider to something
more...  normal?  But I think I was too young for a move like that, or just
unwilling to do so given her lifestyle ('tis pity she's a whore).  I did
miss her, and in truth, I only ever even consider that I should have done
something to change our status as a result of my missing her.  I can
honestly say I never had a relationship with a working girl quite like the
one I had with her, and only one ever came close.

   That was a Korean masseuse I met at one of the local massage parlors. 
Generally, if you want to fuck at an Asian massage parlor (AMP), you have
to go to the city, but this one afforded every luxury found in the city,
with a much shorter ride and better pricing.  In addition, it sported a
rather attractive lady who, though not young like the girls you find in the
city, was very good at what she did and, over time, made me wonder about
her feelings for me.  I've shared the story my visits to Linda with my best
friend and it's his conclusion that she was spirited away from the AMP so
suddenly because she was pregnant with Mini-Me.  The ending of the story
makes me wonder if he isn't right.  For starters, she stopped accepting
tips somewhere along the way.  Then we got so familiar that we got
careless. A few times I reminded her to put a condom on me, which is not
something you ever have to do if you're getting laid at an AMP.  After
those few times, I just didn't bother mentioning it, and she didn't bother
putting one on me.  And the first time I fucked her raw, I warned her I was
coming, but she did nothing to stop me.  I was certain she understood me
perfectly, and I blew my load as deep inside of her as my pelvic bone would
allow.  Her reaction was one of tranquility instead of shock, and it
confirmed for me that she had known I was going to, and wanted me to come
inside of her unprotected, and had no qualms about the matter.  I assumed
she had other forms of protection, like the pill, and simply afforded me
this convenience out of respect for our increasingly close relationship.

   One day I showed up and she was gone.  No one there wanted to talk about
it, and Lee, the mamasan seemed rather cross with me.  They had a good
couple of girls there, one of them young, but she would only offer me her
oldest (and ugliest...  and fattest...  and worst mannered) girl, who was
50 if she was a day.  I protested and asked for a line-up and she snarled
that I could have old, fat n' ugly or nothing, unless I wanted to put my
treasure in her hands.  She said this menacingly so I just left and didn't
return until I found out she had sold the place and opened a new parlor
under her name.

   At some point, while I was "dating" Candy(whose real name was
Christine), my first escort, who was now my anytime call-girl (providing I
gave her some notice), I decided to try my hand at a high class escort
agency.  I only ever did this twice.  I would have only tried once, but I
felt to be fair I had to give them a fair shake, and that meant another
attempt.  The price tag would have easily afforded me a night with Candy,
going by our "off the books" arrangement.  The only nice thing was that I
was not expected to tip.  Honestly though, the girl they sent was a pain in
the ass, laying out everything she wouldn't do.  I sent her away and asked
for something different.  They obliged and the next girl was better, but
our experience couldn't hold a candle to that first time with Candy, let
alone any time since.  Furthermore, since I had started seeing
Christine(Candy) regularly, I also tried another girl from her agency, and
yet another girl from a similar agency.  To be fair, the performances of
these girls just didn't measure up to Candy, but they were nice.  The
replacement girl who this high class agency sent me did measure up,
roughly, to what I had become used to from the average agencies, but of
course, not to Candy.  I think the situation with Christine/Candy was just
one of those things that you can't expect to come across very often.  Even
what I had with Linda wasn't quite the same.

   So, the second attempt (a few months after Christine's disappearance)
with the high class agency was no better than the first, except the girl
they sent did just fine without having to be replaced by another girl.  I
learned from these experiences that the only real difference one can
regularly expect between the two classes of escort is cost.

   Years have passed since I've spent any considerable amount of time
trolling for prostitutes.  I did my "research" and learned what I wanted
to. The only times since that I have reentered that culture have been times
when I have been very horny, short on time and low on the dough, but not
too low for a prozzy and a motel room.  These occasions do happen from time
to time, probably once every few months if I am not in a relationship, but
they also have to happen at a time that I am out and about at or near a
location where hookers can be found, and I have to be able to find a decent
looking one that doesn't act like a fucking alien from Mars.  Frankly,
these few encounters over the past half a decade have been ultimately
unfulfilling and in a few cases simply horrifying.

   So, it was my decision that I wanted to spend my time and tax money with
an escort.  As to which class I should opt for, I ruled out the high class,
but found that below it there were more options than there used to be. 
Competing with the agencies are lot more independent escorts than I ever
noticed before.  It turns out that mere street whores have finally
discovered this ingenious contraption called the Internet, and have
realized that horny guys with money use it.  This made the process more
difficult.  I never had to contend with ''low class escorts'' before, and
I'll be damned if I'm going to pay a hundred bucks for some crackhead that
gets 40 at most on the street.  No.  Fucking.  Way!

   By some happy coincidence, I managed to find the same agency that I had
used years before, the one that gives the free half-hour on weekdays
between 9AM and 5PM.  I don't live alone; hell, I can't really afford to
right now, so I have no privacy at home.  If was going to shell out the
money for a real escort, I wasn't crazy about putting up for a hotel room
either, and let's face it, if I'm going to provide the surroundings for
this tryst, I'm not going the cheap route with some flea-bag motel that
hasn't seen a renovation since The Great Depression.  Besides, if I did
provide the location, I'd either have to go to the nearby major
metropolitan city to do so (incurring more pissed-away dinero) or get stuck
with a greater cost to have the girl travel outside of the city to meet me.
Obviously, the answer here was incall, which, for those of you who
are unschooled (don't be embarrassed if you are.  You know I won't be
sharing this story at church.  Or at least, I wouldn't, if I attended one)
means I go to the girl at her place.  It's cheaper, when it's available.

   I called the agency the night before I planned to set up my little
rendezvous and found that they don't do incall at night, but it is
available during the day.  They could not make a reservation for me, I'd
have to call during the day and see what was available.  Now, I had no
problem getting someone on the phone for the aforementioned phone call -
just like the old days - I called, a girl answered, and she either made
things happen for me, or told me what needed to be done.  Now the day had
arrived and I couldn't get the fuckers on the phone (no pun intended)!  I
called and called, and it just rang and rang.  I gave up and tried to
decide what else to do.  I had read through backpage.com and had seen a few
appealing ads, but I didn't know anything about these women, they were
independent!  I've heard nightmare stories about this.  They might not look
anything like their picture.  They might be cops.  I might get mugged or
killed!  I wanted an agency.  The only other agency I'd been able to
contact did not do incall.  I'd have to decide whether it was better to get
the more economical hotel nearby and pay more for outcall, or pay the extra
for a nice place in the city and get a better outcall rate.

   Suddenly my phone started ringing.  Escorts were calling me!  WTF!?!?  I
spoke to one and she was black; a deal-breaker before anything else could
be spoken.  I let her know that I wasn't interested in any blacks or
Asians, and would be wary of a Hispanic as well.  Basically, I stated, a
white girl is what I'm really looking for here.  I detected a bit
of testiness over the matter, but she said she'd relay the message anyway.
The rest of the girls that called told me they were white, but none of them
did incall.  In fact, they all told me their agency didn't do incall.  I
insisted that they did, based on the previous night's conversation, and
finally I got a call from someone who worked at the agency.  I let her know
that we were talking about a must and that if they didn't have incall, I'd
just find someone who could meet my needs better.  She apologized that they
could not accommodate and wished me the best of luck.

   I felt a little foolish after hanging up.  Surely, I'd found one of the
best deals out there and I'd told them to fuck off despite having already
convinced myself that incall was going to be a pipe dream?  I realized that
once I made my decision, a hotel in the city, or one nearby, I'd have to
call back, hat in hand, tail tucked betwixt legs, and eat a little crow.  I
priced a few hotels and decided on two that I would consider, one local,
one city-bound, and decided I'd let the market make the call.  I can do a
little math when needed and it would only take a second or two after the
city/travel rates were cited to decide which would give me more "bang for
my buck".  Just as I picked up the phone (I know it sounds silly, but it's
true!) it rang and I found myself on the line with yet another escort, from
the same agency, but this one did incall!  I asked for her description,
despite the fact that I knew, and they knew, (and she knew) that if I
wanted to do incall this day, I'd just have to take her, no matter what she
looked like.  She painted a fairly pretty picture, and I accepted.  I
shouldn't have.

   She gave me a general location to find in the city and told me to call
her for more detail when I got there.  Then I was directed to her
apartment, which can only be described with the word "squalor".  The
neighborhood was bad enough, although it wasn't too "dark", white trash can
be just as scary, especially to an obvious outsider.  I'm a lucky man
though, my truck is well disguised.  I handle all the trash removal for my
household, since I have a truck, and that gets me a better deal with my
rent.  Where I live we don't have local trash pickup.  You have to take
everything to the dump, and the dump's only open a few times a week. 
Everyone throws their trash in my beat-up, ten year old truck.  My friends
and I commonly refer to it as the Sanford-mobile, and I've considered
making a tape of "The Streetbeater" (theme song of Sanford and Son - look
it up on YouTube if you don't know what I mean.  You'll recognize it) and
blaring it while I drive around.  This (the truck, not the song) makes for
the perfect camouflage in such a trashy neighborhood.  It really looked
like it belongs, especially while I'm not in it.

   When I called for final directions, she was surprised I had gotten there
so quickly.  She claimed she'd been housecleaning and her hands were all
dirty and she hadn't had a chance to grab a shower.  I told her not to
worry, and not to clean up - I liked showers myself.  There's only so much
you can say over the phone with an escort before it becomes illegal.  She
seemed pleased at this prospect and assured me she'd be dirty and waiting.

   Do you remember (if you're even still here) what I mentioned about that
cheap, flea-bag motel, you know, the part about it not having been
renovated in nearly a hundred years?  Well...  this could also describe her
apartment.  But, at least I wasn't paying extra for it.  This little trip
was costing me $120 an hour (and let's not forget that free half-hour!). 
But I was starting to regret asking for two hours, I wasn't sure if I
wanted to spend two hours in this dump.  I guess there had been
renovations, but not very good ones as the bathroom had obviously once been
something else.  Perhaps the bathroom was added once indoor plumbing came
about.  Yes, I believe this shithole was THAT old!

   The girl was no spring chicken either.  She had glossed over her age
over the phone and now I knew why.  Oddly enough, she seemed to have a nice
set of tits.  Perhaps, I thought, they're just fake.  Well, she seemed nice
enough, but boy were her hands covered in...  soot?  Something.  In any
case, I awaited my shower, and she took her dear sweet time doing God only
knows what.  I told her to let me know when she was ready to get started so
I could mark the time.  She told me she wasn't all the strict about the
time, and not to worry.  I'd really only said it so she'd know she wasn't
going to dick around and then charge me for the time.  She explained that
some awful tragedies had befallen her, in which people that she trusted
implicitly had caused her to lose everything, and thus she was relegated to
this condemnation in waiting for the time being.  Like I give a fuck.

   At some point she entered into conversation with someone whose voice I
could vaguely hear.  We were on the second floor and the voice was male and
coming from downstairs.  Apparently it was her landlord, who knew she
entertained, even right there in the apartment.  Apparently he wasn't crazy
about entertaining in his shower, though.  That meant we couldn't take a
shower together and I wasn't crazy about that.  Suddenly it was becoming
clearer and clearer that I should have ponied up for a hotel.  I mean
honestly, if I had shelled out the dough for the Hampton Inn, I would be
having a much better time, but such is hindsight, and we all have lessons
to learn.

   So now my shower was out, and though I'd bathed that morning, I'd spent
the early hours palling around with some friends of mine and felt like I
needed a shower.  I wasn't quite sitting in "ball-soup" but it was close. I
decided that I could come up with a good idea and got naked.  When she came
in, I asked her to come up with a sponge bath for me, as I felt that I
really needed to get cleaned up to feel comfortable.  If we couldn't get in
the shower together, I would at least have the satisfaction of her washing
me.  Or so I thought.

   She gladly obliged to setting up a Puerto Rican shower for me, and I
figured she'd be back in a minute with a container of some warm/hot water
and a soapy washcloth.  Yep, any minute now, she'll come through that
door...  won't be long now...  what fucking time is it '''NOW'''!?  Finally
I stepped out of the room, and walked past the landing to the top of the
steps, naked as I was born and called down to her.  She promised she'd be
up shortly, and I went back to her bed.  I took the liberty of rooting
through her drawers, but there was nothing of much interest there. 
Reflecting on all that happened, I suppose I just looked in the wrong
drawers.

   Finally, she returned with the water and a few choices of soap.  She
(the name she gave me was Edith) explained that the water heater was very
old and faulty, and that the best way to get hot water in her apartment was
to boil it.  Fuck.  Me.  She'd been down there boiling this shit all this
time.  She offered me a glass of ice water that she'd also boiled, pointing
out that she did this to get rid of the toxins in the city water.  I asked
if she boiled the water that was used to make the ice cubes.  This had
never occurred to her before.  I didn't care.

   I waited for her to get me washed, but instead she took off her bathrobe
and put on a pair of men's underwear that was too large for her and a
tee-shirt.  She explained that she felt most comfortable this way. 
Whatever.  She sat down on the floor next to the other side of the bed and
pulled something out from under the bed and proceeded to smoke crack. 
Great, just fucking great.  She didn't seem like a crack-head, not exactly,
anyway.  She had some looks to her, despite being old, and she didn't have
crack-mouth, nor did she have those awful eyes you often see on our good
friend Crackie Crackhead.

   I'd never done crack before, in fact, I'd done nothing stronger than
pot, so I just kept my thoughts to myself and started cleaning up, saving
the ol' crotch for last.  Once sufficiently clean, I started talking with
her again and found the conversation much less stimulating now that she was
high.  It seemed she couldn't get enough of the stuff.  I suspected that
the time spent "boiling my water" had really been spent making a score. 
She'd also had a visitor come by, which she explained somewhat competently.
It had been her niece, who had been there the day before, and had brought
some asshole with her that she described as a "connection".  When I asked
if that was a drug connection or a pimp (who is really both!) she said she
didn't know, but they'd been up in the room the day before and had locked
her out, which pissed her off to no end, and she didn't want her niece
coming around.  At some point her phone rang, and she answered it, which
pissed me off to no end.  I don't mind if I'm hanging out with someone and
they answer their phone, but if I'm paying your hustlin' ass for nooky,
you'd best stay off the fucking phone!  When she hung up she lamented that
the agency had some girl who was going through a rough time and had asked
her to let the girl stay there the previous night.  Whatever.  Time to get
to fucking.  Well, at least, time for me to acquaint myself with her cunt
and decide whether it's clean enough for me to mess around with.

   It was.  I had no qualms with her cunt except that it seemed a little
droopy on the outside, but it was very clean.  She informed me that I could
not put my fingers inside unless there was a condom involved, as she gets
infections over nothing.  That was fine, but she only had one condom and I
hadn't brought any up, since I was going to the home of a professional who
would surely be prepared, right??  Jesus.  So, she told me to go ahead and
use it, but to be very careful with it, so we could reuse it when I fuck
her.  Right.  Now, as I said, she looked all loosey-goosey on the outside,
but inside I found this was a girl who had been eating her Wheaties and
doing her Kegels!  It was a very tight fit, and I was beginning to look
forward to fucking her.  At some point I let on, however, that I was rather
good at what I was doing, and rarely had any trouble making a girl cum. 
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say!  From that point on she seemed
to make it her mission to avoid orgasm, and even taunt me a little.

   We were having such a good time up to that point (OK, we had just
started having such a good time), and as soon as I told her, I could feel
the shift between us.  She wanted control, and she was not about to give it
to me.  I located her g-spot and went to work on her clit with my mouth.  I
could hear her moans and gasps, but still she'd ask when I was going to get
around to doing something for her.  I pointed out what I had heard
emanating from her lips, and she assured me that those gasps were gasps of
pain and shock, because I was jabbing at her insides like a blind man
trying to pin the tail on the donkey.  At first, this just made me go after
her with more vigor.  Her moans and gasps increased and I got the idea that
the harder I worked at her, the closer together those cries of pleasure
would be, and she'd find herself unable to stop bursting of the dam.  I
started to enjoy the idea of raping an orgasm out of her.

   But this was not to come.  She was determined, she caught on to my game
and she squirmed and called me an amateur and started laughing.  All these
things I can endure, but I got the idea that I was wasting my paid for time
and I had a choice to either call up the agency and let them know I was
displeased, which probably wouldn't work in my favor, or put an end to this
and move on.  So, unsatisfied, I just ended the pussy eating/manipulation
session.  There were a few more jibes "Aw, did you give up?  Guess you
weren't as good as you thought *chuckle*."

   I thought perhaps I was going to have to end this early after all.  I
don't know what idea she got, but I'm not a sub.  I guess looking back I
can see why she might have thought I was, but one thing was for sure: if
this kept up, I was either going to have to leave or change her mind about
me, and that could easily lead to me beating the shit out of her.  I had
paid my money, I expected to get what I paid for, and the bullshit she was
giving was '''not''' what I wanted.

   I decided to try and take the passive route, telling her what I like and
why, explaining that I'm not a sub, though some have made that assumption
and it never ended well.  She seemed to understand, and to show me that,
she ended up digressing into some bullshit stories about her life, about
how her father hated her and she had never known why, and had ultimately
studied psychology to figure it out, and she did figure it out.  You see,
it all stemmed from the fact that his father loved her, and hated everyone
else, including him.  And there was more about her mother and the schools
she went to, and at some point I realized she wasn't shutting the fuck up,
and instead was wasting my time sitting on the floor, blathering about
bullshit, and taking hit after hit off that fucking crackpipe.

   Now, I've never done crack, or coke or any of that shit, as I've
mentioned before, but don't get the idea that the site of such activity
puts me off.  Almost every streetwalker out there is a crack-head, which is
why they're so often called crack-whores.  I've seen it done in front of me
many a time before and this was of no concern to me.  I've heard a person
can't come on that junk, but I've found that's not true, in fact, many of
the girls I'd known enjoyed themselves more fully on the shit.  But this
was just getting to be too much so I sat down on the edge of the bed so
that my feet were on either side of the glass rotating microwave plate that
she had the crack spread out on, the one which she was cooking the rocks in
a spoon over.  I sat on the edge much the way an experienced strip club
patron will set just at the very tip end of the couch seat during a lap
dance, so's to get the best grindage.  Only in this case, it
wasn't grindage I sought.  I wanted my cock right in her face the second
she looked up.  It worked perfectly.  I planted my feet, she looked up, and
there was ol' Snuffleupagus staring at her, nose to nose,if you will. 
She was taken a bit by surprise, more so when I started to rise and my cock
hit her chin, then slid up the side of her face, running across her eye as
I pulled back.  She looked up at me questioningly, which was not the
response I wanted, so I made it clear: "I'm getting pretty sick of you
sucking on the crack pipe when you should be sucking on my dick, so either
get up here and fuck me, or start sharing the smack." She nodded at this
and offered me the next hit off the pipe.

   I told her as she prepared it that I'd never actually tried it before,
though I'd seen it done many times.  She explained what to do and held up
the pipe for me, and even rotated the glass tube as I sucked on it, rolling
it between my lips as I drew the smoke in, inhaling as I pulled, as opposed
to sucking the air into my mouth, then trying to pull it down my throat and
hold it.  Instead the smoke came in steadily, giving of a very metallic
taste that is similar to the smell of its exhaust on my tongue.  When I
could not pull much more I pulled off the stem and closed my lips, holding
it all in my lungs, I opened my mouth again, as I pulled in a shallow
breath to get the rest down the hatch.  I held the breath for about a half
a minute, without feeling anything except the pressure in my lungs, and
finally, a bit of fuzziness before I exhaled.

   Suddenly it hit me; I didn't expect it, I've done pot for years and have
never once gotten anything out of it except the mildest of slight buzzes
that only made itself even slightly known when I held still for a minute
then moved just a bit.  For this reason, I only did pot socially.  If a
friend had some and was willing to share (they always are) I'd toke up, but
I've never bought it and would only consider ponying up for a score with
others that wanted to blaze.

   But this was something else.  It hit fast and hard and it was just
glorious.  As I had prepared to suck on the stem, my cock, which had
hardened in Edith's face, had gradually deflated as I'd shifted position on
the bed so that I was lying down to put my head at a better level for
Edith. Suddenly as this high hit me, my cock was like steel driving into
the bed.  I felt great and I was hornier than I've ever been.  As this was
happening, she'd already reloaded and was making her own draw on the pipe.
I waited for her to put it down, then grabbed her and yanked her on to the
bed.  She complained about back pains which she had mentioned earlier, but
she was complaining to the wrong guy.  I think I threw out an unfelt
apology and had her straddle my cock as it lay hard and flat against my
belly (in other words, not fucking her) I had her move her hips back and
forth as I tongue kissed her and enjoyed her tits.  When my mouth was not
playing with hers or her tits, I was babbling about a mile a minute.  I
called her some very nasty things, and I recall her saying something about
not liking to be called a cunt, I also recall telling her to shut her
fucking mouth while I was still attracted to her.  I know I asked her about
her tits because she delved into this anecdote about how she had discovered
breast cancer when she was 17 or something while showering one morning and
that she found it because her grandmother knew that the women in her family
were commonly afflicted by this disease, and though not willing to reveal a
family secret like that, taught all the young girls related to her to wash
their breasts in a manner that equates to a daily self breast-check.  She
found the lump, went to the doctor, was referred to another doctor, who
praised God that she had discovered it so early.  He told her about all the
treatments that would result in the loss of her hair, appetite, and
anything in her stomach, along with a few things that weren't.  She
demanded a double mastectomy, reasoning that if there's no tit-meat under
the skin, she couldn't get tit cancer, now could she?  In their place she
wanted a boob job that would be the same size as her breasts had been.  She
got it.  I had already confirmed they were fake by that point, but this
answered my question as to why the sack was all I could feel.  I asked why
they didn't feel full and made a few other rude comments about them and she
explained that you're supposed to have them serviced every ten years or so
at most , and that hers had never been serviced at all since installation.
I said something else unkind at this point (I believe the term "flat tires"
was used), but was still feeling that high, because I made no apology for
it.  When she chided me about whatever it was I'd said I just pushed her
down on the bed and stuck my cock in her mouth, commenting that something
had to shut her up.

   Of course, with her quiet and my high raging (though I had presence
of mind to check my pulse, everything seemed fine), it was my turn to run
my mouth, and I'm sure I said some horrible things.  At one point I recall
she pressed her teeth on my shaft in a threat (I think) and I put my hand
on her throat in a similar threat and pointed out that her agency had no
clue as to who I was and if she died today, no one would know how to figure
out whodunit.  I don't think I was kidding.  Neither did she.

   At some point of fucking her throat I started to come down, but it
wasn't terrible.  I first noticed it when I apologized for something I'd
said without her even prompting me to (which she couldn't do anyway, with
her mouth occupied as it was), saying something like "my God what a shitty
thing to say, sorry about that, sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my head."
And then "there's a nice play on words, 'ahead of my head', all while
you're giving me head!" And suddenly everything I said was worthy of
self-analysis until suddenly I sighed and pulled my cock out of her mouth,
leaving her there to just gather her thoughts or something.  I half
expected her to give me shit for abusing her so, but she was a good little
ho, and simply got up and sat back on the floor, setting up more rocks to
smoke, cooking, scraping, smoking, and as I watching, I realized why her
hands were ''really'' black.  It was from this shit she was doing.  I took
a few more hits, though I waited a while.  At first I thought she would
just offer it up occasionally, but that apparently never crossed her mind.
So, while she was preparing a hit, I'd tell her "Hey, that one's mine,
right?" and she'd respond "Yup." I followed the same form of intake as that
first dose, but I never got even close to the high I'd had before.

   Time was ticking on and she was babbling on and on about her whole
fucking life story (you may know the feel, dear reader, as you read this
very tale, if your even still here...  I shouldn't wonder) and I was hoping
at some point she'd run out of shit to smoke and get up on the fucking bed.
At some point, I realized that we'd more than run out of time.  Her 20th
phone call since I'd been there came at some point and she'd said something
about "him" being gone.  I asked if her agency ever called at the end of a
"session", and she said they already had.  I pointed out that I hadn't done
what I came there to do, and I intended to do it.  She looked up and smiled
and told me "no problem.  You can still have what you want.  It's my fault
we went over time anyway.  I've got all day."

   At some point another call came and she seemed distressed.  She told me
that girl that had stayed there the night before, the one from the agency
was coming again.  She still didn't have a place to stay and the agency
wanted her to stay another night.  In fact, they wanted her to house the
girl indefinitely.  They'd work something out.  I asked when the girl would
be showing up and Edith shrugged saying only "whenever".  I suddenly became
interested in this girl I knew nothing about.  I asked where she slept in
such a setting and Edith replied "you're on it" - the bed.  I asked where
Edith had slept and she just patted the bed.  Same bed...  NICE!  I asked
how old the girl was.  Edith said the girl ''claims'' to be 22.  I asked if
that meant she thought the girl was older or younger, she pointed out at
that age, girls lie about being older, not younger.  Obviously, there was a
concern that this girl wasn't legal.  After another hit, which gave me a
small lift and got me hard and at least somewhat horny again, I grabbed her
again and we kissed while I pawed at her tits and cunt.  She did a good job
at doing what I wanted here, she'd put the pipe down and put her arms
around me and when I broke the kiss she cuddled in, resting her head on my
shoulder as I pulled her up on her knees and felt her ass, which she
explained was basically useless because her second husband had apparently
put Johnny Holmes and Hedgehog Ron Jeremy to shame and he'd made no
preparations when one night, in frustration or disgust he simply thrust his
monster member into her then virgin and unexpecting asshole, and plunged it
all the way in to the hilt.  He'd wrecked her for any normal cock (and
apparently taking normal shits).

   Between making out with the escort, I asked if she'd done anything with
the girl in bed.  "Well, she IS my niece." "What?" Wait a minute, I told
her, I'm not talking about her fucking niece, I'm talking about the girl
that spent the night, that's coming back tonight, for the agency.  "Yeah,
that's her, I told you already.  Who do you think showed up with that loser
yesterday?"

   "OK, lady, wait a minute.  Your possibly underage niece works for the
same escort agency you do?" "Yeah, it's a living."

   This had to be a joke, but she seemed sincere.  She explained that she
was actually the niece of one of her ex-husbands and while that wasn't
really enough to keep her from doing anything with the girl, she didn't
really trust her, and didn't want to get dragged down into anything the
girl might get her involved in.  Also the agency seemingly didn't know that
they were related.  I asked, if the girl should show before I leave, what
the possibility of a "Aunt-Niece" show might be, mentioning that if they
were willing, we could even call it a "Mother-Daughter" show.  Edith wasn't
going for it.  "I told you, I'm not interested in her.  I don't trust her.
I'm not doing a fucking show with her.  If you want to fuck her, that's
between you and her.  I don't give a shit."

   Fair enough.  I decided I did want to hurry up and get around to fucking
Edith and told her she needed to hurry the fuck up and get up here on my
cock.  Of course, it was limp at this point and I was having trouble
bringing it back to life.  I hadn't come once that day.  That's a little
odd.  That's OK though, I knew a good hit of this shit would change that
for me, so I told Edith to get that crack-pipe ready for me.

   She did, and I took a good "healthy" hit, but my cock failed to rise. 
Don't get me wrong, I felt about as amorous as before, and I was sure if I
started messing around with her, I'd get good and ready, but I didn't want
to bring her up on the bed to find a limp dick, and I wanted her to get
smoked up so she wouldn't be bitching and wanting a hit while she's riding
my cock.  So, to remedy all these concerns, I took care of business,
rubbing my cock and asking more questions about her "little niece",
including how old she thought the girl might be.  She scoffed at my hopeful
suggestion of 13 (hey, a man can dream, can't he?), stating 16 at best, and
probably just 17 at that.  She suggested the girl might be 18 even, because
the agency could get real picky about hiring an 18 year old.  One thing she
was sure of, the girl was no 22 year old and suddenly as I talked about it,
and thought about fucking this little treasure, I got hard.  There was no
in between.  One second it was soft and dead, the next hard and mighty, but
the next, yes, within a mere second I felt the orgasm build and blow.  I
tried to hold back.  I had never had a problem with the ol' PMJ blues, but
here I was planning to fuck, but blowing my load earlier than 12 year
old getting his first glimpse of his older sister masturbating.  I couldn't
believe it.  I wondered if I could bring it back to life.  I decided it
best to give it time and wait until the girl showed up.  I also stayed off
the pipe until she showed.  I let Edith babble on about every fucking thing
she wanted including radio stations she'd listened to as a kid and the
circus she went to during her second marriage and the concert she went to
just before her first marriage and how the bass player of Night Ranger had
the hots for her and she almost messed around with him, and let's not
forget her story of how she lost her virginity at 16 to rape!

   Finally I was spared as her phone rang.  I helped myself to the water
she had brought me hours earlier, not the ball-wash water, but the ice
water that, now iceless, could only be called tepid.  The caller was her
niece and she was downstairs waiting to be let in.  She left me, naked on
the bed to go downstairs.  She offered to make some tea which I knew would
take her another half-hour or so, and so she went downstairs and up came
her niece.  This was a nice sight.  Truly this girl had aged two decades;
she hadn't even come close.  I lay there on top of the covers with spoo on
my leg and staining the bedspread next to me.  She stopped short upon
entering, a little surprised.

   "I'm Shannon...  " what followed was a look that reminded me
of Leelee Sobieski in "Eyes Wide Shut".  She was full set on seductive
mode. Maybe she'd seen that I'd already cum and figured if she could rope
me in, I'd be an easy job.  In any case, she looked me up and down, looked
in my face and said "Hi...  " then looked down and my cock and said "and
hello to you too, cutie." and licked her lips.  In response I decided to
see if I had anything left, and attempted to raise my cock a little.  To my
surprise it swelled and rose to half mast; with a small effort I got it to
twitch a salute.  "I'm not sure Shannon, but I think he likes you." She
laughed and climbed on the bed next to me: "It sure looks like it!" She
petted it a little with hands that have just started to feel the world, and
still betrayed her with her true age.  16 maybe.  17?  No, and certainly
not 18.  I was still way off at 13, earlier, but 15 would be quite easy for
me to believe, although her tits were something for a 15 year old.  But
these days, they get them bigger earlier, and besides, even if they were
mosquito bites, some imaginative wardrobe choices could change that while
the wardrobe items were still worn.

   She asked if I knew what she did for a living.  I confirmed this
knowledge and she asked if I would be interested in striking up a bargain
with her.  I told her I might, but I didn't know how her aunt would react
to us doing something in her place.  She assured me that her aunt would
have no problem whatsoever, and anyway, this was half her place too.  She
paid half the rent every month, after all.

   Although my cock had responded for me/her, I wasn't positive that
fucking was the best idea, so I decided to go with naked cuddling, kissing,
fondling and pussy eating, but didn't quite put it out there.  I told her I
wasn't sure, laying out her aunt as a continuing source of concern and
implying that there might be other issues.  She offered me a "free tour"
and said we would see where we could go from there.  She took off her
shirt. She was wearing a bra, but it didn't appear to be affecting her
bust, except for covering it.  She offered the bra removal to me and I
gladly accepted, impressed with her rack.  It had seemed larger with the
shirt on, not sure why, but what she had was a thing of beauty - full,
firm, but real, no fun bags inside the fun bags.  I felt them and kissed
them, loving the tits and the nipples but not crazy about the large, almost
"silver-dollar pancake" like areolas.  I told her it was time to take the
trolley downtown, literally, that's what I said, and the dumb bitch looked
at me like I was from another planet.  Of course.  "We're taking a tour,
remember?  Trolley...  tour?" "Oh yeah!" she replied and peeled off her
jeans.  Uninvited I grabbed her thong and had it follow after the pants. 
She stepped out of them and spread her legs, then turned and bent over.  I
swear to God she groaned the following at me: "You know, you should really
take me up on my offer.  I know you like my ass, you can't wait to stick
your hard cock inside of it and plug away at me.  But most of us don't go
for that.  You can't fuck us in the ass.  You can fuck my ass.  I like it.
I want your cock in my ass and I want you to fuck my ass as hard as you
want.  I'll cum so hard with your cock in my ass.  I won't even charge you
more for it.  You tell me what you want, I'll tell you how much, and if you
decide that you want to fuck my ass too, I'll let you.  In fact, I might
let you do anything once we settle on a price.  I don't think I could stop
you anyway."

   I may have gotten a word or two out of place there, but what she said
had me so hard, and made such an impression on me that I'm 99% sure that's
verbatim.  I got hard again just sharing it with you.  I tried to reply but
apparently, along with all the blood in my body, my moisture in my mouth
had traveled to my hardening cock as well.  I took a drink and said "It
sounds like if I give you 20 bucks I get to rape any part of your teenage
body I want." "Well, I was thinking more like a hundred, and it's not rape
if I let you."

   I had a hundred, in fact, I had a few, but for some reason, I was
unwilling to give it to her.  Call it the opportunist in me.  I kind of
felt like I'd been screwed by her aunt, without even getting screwed, so I
figured a double screwing to the niece was just what I deserved.  I told
her I only had $50 left and that was in tens.  She could have 20 up front
and 30 at the end.  She wanted to know why I was only going to pay her half
up front, and I told her: incentive.  She was going to make good on her
offer or she wasn't getting the rest of her money.  She started to object
but then I suggest we call her aunt up to see what she thought.  I knew she
was bullshitting me about Edith being all for this.  She shut the door and
locked it after I showed her every ten of the 50 and gave her two of them.
She asked if she couldn't have another ten, making it thirty up front.  I
asked her why it mattered.  If she was a good slut, she'd get it all.

   I put her naked ass on the bed and checked out her pussy.  Looked clean,
smelled clean, I played with it a bit - '''very''' tight.  Does it run in
the family or something?  Of course it couldn't, but I mean, she's a whore!
She explained when I commented that she was very new and had only been
working a few weeks.  I don't know if that was true or not, her aunt hadn't
mentioned it.  She hadn't even had a john that day (my word, not hers). 
She had been working with this guy she knew (the connection) to get some
hustling done, because the agency usually got her one job a day.  But her
connection just couldn't seem to make anything connect and she'd waited
around for nothing when she could have worked.  She brought up the money
again, hoping the same thing I had - she'd asked for a hundred, I figured I
could make her go lower.  I'd offered her 50, maybe I had more.  Sure, I
told her I only had 50 left, but I could have been lying, and, in fact, I
was.  But I wasn't giving up any more.  Any more and the bargaining would
never stop.  She wouldn't be happy until she'd shaken me down for every
bill in my pockets and then she'd still want more.

   I had been fingering her pretty good so she gave up begging for moaning
and I occasionally pulled the fingers out to see what was on them.  If
she'd fucked anyone, she'd been a good girl and used a condom - no
"Creampie Jones" here.  I decided to go in for a taste - lovely.  A little
dirty, in a sweaty way, but she'd probably been walking quite a bit today.
Her would-be pimp is a moron.  First, he didn't fuck her himself.  What an
idiot!  Secondly, he couldn't make one deal go through!  Either she was a
very thorough liar or he didn't deserve to breath, and neither did she for
casting her lot in with him.

   She came hard, I suppose that's what grabbed her aunt's attention, who
was busy brewing the world's longest pot of fucking tea.  As soon as she
got into the throes of orgasm, I removed my mouth, kept pressure on the
G-spot, and positioned myself to fuck her.  When I felt she'd peaked in her
orgasm I pulled my fingers and replaced them with my cock, which,
thankfully, was sailing at full mast and was ably ready for duty.  She came
down gradually as I learned my cock of her cunt.  It was a delicious
feeling.  She was no 13 year old, her looks told you that as I've already
pointed out, but the fucking I was getting could have convinced me
otherwise.  Her orgasms had her spasming on my cock and it was all I could
do to hold back; thank God I'd held off on the crack at the end.

   Just as the orgasm wore off (and she was no less tight at that point,
either!) I started tongue kissing her and biting her neck.  She seemed to
be enjoying herself and was pushing into me.  Then she started to clench my
cock into her and was shaking back and forth.  All I could think was "What
the fuck?" I looked down and she had a hungry look in her eye as she shook
her hips back and forth and here and there bucked up before doing so.  Was
she trying to throw me off?  Then her hands found my shoulders and tried to
push me down to one side and bucked under me.  I got it!  She wanted on
top. I obliged and rolled.  We almost ran out of room on the bed and she
rose too much and my cock popped out.  She repositioned herself over me and
without skipping a beat, grabbed my cock and promptly sat down on it,
engulfing it.  Then she got a look.  Fear?  Shock?  Hey, I'm not that
fucking good!  I figured she was acting but she looked down at me and I
realized she wasn't moving her hips.  She put her hands on my shoulders as
if to push off of me and asked "Is there...  a condom...  on your cock!?" I
smiled, trying to act like it had just now occurred to me too, but I'd
known.  I wanted to fuck her, and wanted to do it my way.  So I gave her
the goofy look, as if to say "Whoops!  Aw hell.", then let my eyes get real
big and laughed.  She demanded to know what was funny and was now trying
unsuccessfully to push away, I held her hips fast impaled on my cock.  "It
doesn't matter at this point.  I came in your pussy twice already.  I came
while fucking your aunt earlier (lies!  All lies!) so if I had anything
left to plant in you, then I already did." "Yes, but!  Not this way, I
don't...  not without a condom!"

   I was ready for her.  I still held her and barked a "HEY!" at her.  This
shook her up enough to loosen her grip on my shoulders, and I rolled her
back over onto her back and resumed pumping into her.  "If I remember
correctly, Shannon, you told me that I wouldn't be able to rape you,
because you'd do anything I want.  You acknowledged there's nothing you can
do to stop me from having my way with you, and you promised to let me do
anything to you, and you told me that if I had to rape you to get what I
want, then that's what I should do (no she didn't, but that was back then
and I told her she did, so she assumed she had).  You dared me to rape you
Shannon.  So now I'm going to ride you raw and if I get you pregnant,
that's your problem.  One way or the other (pump, pump) I'm going to blow
my load into you, again and again (another knock at the door from the aunt,
the third time now - I had to keep my voice down) and if I have to rape
your 15 year old pussy to do it, I will.  She hadn't argued with me earlier
when I suggested she was a teenager.  She corrected me on other stuff, but
not this.  Now I'd called her a 15 year old and she flinched, I figured I'd
hit the nail right on the head.  "Yeah, that's right slut, you're just a 15
year old whore, aren't you?  With these hot little 15 year old titties and
this tight 15 year old pussy that I'm tearing up.  Are you ready to be a
mommy at 16?" Moaning and sobbing at the same time she replied "15", "No,
Daddy's raping you at 15!  You'll give birth at 16, because you're 15 now!"
(Yes, I know a person can get pregnant and have the child in the same year,
I understand this, and it happens all the time.  But I was in the middle of
a seriously hot fuck and it was getting hotter by the minute.  My little
head was thinking and it busy exploring a teenager's pussy) I pumped
harder, oh God I was so ready to blow, and my discovery of her age wasn't
helping me to hold back.  Her next outburst killed every effort I had to
prolong the explosion: "FOURTEEN, DADDY!  (Some sobbing) I'M ONLY 14 YEARS
OLD!!!  (more sobbing)" We were sweating like pigs.  Winter hadn't quite
left the area, but during this particular week, Spring was
showing its early signs and the evening was warm, so that the room felt
hot, even with the windows open.  We were soaking the bed in sweat and
pussy juice, but I was determined to make every drop of cum stay in her
pussy.  Was she age-playing me?  I couldn't tell if she was for real or
just trying to get me off quicker.  If the latter, her plan was a poor one.
After a cum like that I should be limp as a wet noodle, in fact, honestly,
after all that, I should probably be sporting an innie.

   But it had only softened partially.  For a teenager, that's nothing. 
For a man midway between 30 and 40, that's a nice feat, especially after
cumming on the bed earlier.  I was sure I had more in me.  Shannon lay
panting, and still sobbing just a bit.  "Do you think I'll really get
pregnant?" She didn't even know my name yet.  She had asked once, I'm sure,
but I'd ignored it.  I'd given a fake one to her aunt anyway.  "Well, I
guess that depends on your cycle...  or whether you're on some kind
of birth control." "You were supposed to wear a condom!  That's the birth
control!" came her crying reply.  I asked her if she had asked her aunt for
any advice and she hadn't.  She didn't need that old bitch's approval. 
Suddenly it occurred to me that she'd done a good bit of badmouthing Edith.
I'd blown it off before but she'd said that her aunt had screwed her out of
a job and owed her.  What the fuck was that all about?  Maybe Edith did
just that.  Still, who was I for her to be talking shit to?

   "What do you think is going to protect you when the condom breaks? 
Guy fucks you like I did and that condom doesn't stand a fucking chance. 
Come on, you're a grown woman.  You should know better.  Didn't you pay
attention in health class?" She told me she'd dropped out at the beginning
of the school year.

   "School year".  Well, that puts the nail in the coffin of the lie she
told about her age.  That's not something college students say; high school
students called it that.  So, I apparently really was right about her being
a teenager, but having cum, the reality dawned on me.  She was 14 or 15. 
Well, she said that, but the more I thought about it, the more her aunt was
probably right - she was 17, or maybe even18 and didn't want the agency to
pull the job from her.

   "Alright, yeah, so you dropped out, but surely they went over safe sex
and birth control before your junior year." "Junior..?  Jesus, I told you,
I'm 14 years old!  I dropped out of the 8th grade." My eyes were like
fucking dinner plates, and spinning ones at that.  "You're really 14? 
But...  don't 14 year olds...  aren't they...  freshmen?" What a dumb
question, like it really fucking matters.  14 is 14.  And, just my luck! 
As it turns out, this sexy, well developed little piece of ass only turned
fourteen with the last month.  She was 13 going into the school year -
that's right, middle school dropout.  Jesus H.  Christ!  And since the
little dipsy doodle was as ignorant to all things protection as she was, I
had to assume that I'd just gotten her pregnant.

   Well, chances are it's not the first time I got a whore pregnant, right?
And what was I to do?  Suddenly it hit me.  This was a ploy.  It had to be
a ploy.  I'd explored the idea that she was playing down her age to make me
come quickly, but dismissed it because of the folly in it.  If that's what
she was doing, she had underestimated how quickly I'd recover with a
stimulant like that.  Hell, now as I'd come to the terms with the reality
of the fact that just weeks before, this little sex slave before me had
been all of 13 years of age, had me hard enough to break a window.  But
still, as horny as I was, I was having second thoughts.  Not only was she
this young, but I'd probably knocked her up and she's so stupid!  I've
probably ruined her life.  She couldn't have had much of a future before,
but with this, I'm probably sealing her fate.  I should go.  I should give
her the money I promised, and maybe a little more, and get the fuck out of
there.  But no!  That's where the fucking ploy was!  Was she 14?  I have to
admit, I believed it.  But this whole pregnant thing...  mixed with the age
thing, it was to get me out of there, and I was about to fall for it, hook,
line and sinker!

   I thought back to the lady now banging on the other side of the door,
yelling for us to let her in.  I yelled back "Only if you're going to join
us!  You, me and your delicious little niece!" That shut her up.  I heard
her beat her retreat down the steps, probably to finish off that pot of tea
that has surely gone cold by now.  I looked at my potential baby-mama and
smiled: "I wanted to do a show with the three of you.  I told her we could
pretend it was a Mommy-Daughter show.  She didn't want to.  But that's OK,
we have a Daddy-Daughter show now, don't we?" I pushed her onto her back
and slid my cock back inside of her.  She tightened up, trying to push me
out.  It was a contest, she had some tough goddamn vaginal muscles.  She
had me all but out, and then finally, all the way out, trying to get back
in.  "Shannon...  " She didn't divert her attention, her face in
a knot keeping the pussy closed.  "Shannon, you gave me you explicit
permission to rape you.  By blocking access to your cunt, I must assume
that rape is what you want now, and if that's the case, I'll give it to
you." Her face didn't change and her cunt was closed up as before.  She was
beneath me and it took nothing to drive my fist into her solar plexus,
knocking the wind out of her.  She lay gasping and I began pumping back
into her hot cunt again.  Between the shock of the strike and being raped
she had a very hard time catching her breath and subsequently could not
close her cunt back up.  I think that just trying to kept her at bay even
longer than she might have been.
Finally she caught her breath and screwed up her face again, forcing me
out of her tough baby pussy, slower this time.  I kissed her lips
which were pursed in a grimace of concentration.  Then I told her "Shannon,
baby.  I can see you really want true rape.  Daddy loves you, and you will
get a real good rape, even if it kills you." With that I put my right hand
on her throat and squeezed her voice box.  She tensed up, her face lost all
composure, her eyes registered the shock of what I'd done, but her cunt
stayed clamped tight, with maybe half of my dick locked inside.  "Shannon,
sweetie, if I squeeze just a little bit, (and I squeezed, her cunt opened
up and I shot in, bottoming out, pubis to pubis, mine aging and hers taut)
you see how that feels.  Not good.  (Her eyes revealed fear) If I squeeze
too hard, just a little too hard, you suffocate before anyone gets off the
phone with 9-11.  You're a dead woman.  Now my hand is going to stay on
your throat.  If you fuck with me, I'll choke you for a reminder.  If that
doesn't do the trick, then I'll squeeze your wind-box (I squeezed again,
just for the affect), right, we don't like that very much.  But hey, if
that doesn't work, you're not going to get three strikes.  You're just
going to die.  You wanted rape.  Now you've got rape." Again, I may have
mixed a few things up, but those are my words exactly as I recall them, and

they worked.

   I told her to turn over and tried my hand at raping her ass.  It
was...if you'll excuse my crassness - a pain in the ass.  She was so
fucking tight, and there was no lubrication except what was dripping off my
cock, and she'd been gushing a fucking river.  I don't know if that means I
was getting her hot through all this.  It doesn't matter either way.  But
despite the slick juices coating my cock, I could hardly get my penis
inside her asshole, and what little I did get in wasn't feeling good.  She
was begging for lube.  I'd remember seeing some earlier when I'd cased the
drawers.  I ripped one open and got lucky on the first try.  I coated my
cock and her asshole.  I slid in nicely and then banged away.  She made
some lovely noises, including a few screams into the pillows and mattress.
I busted her ass three ways from Sunday until I felt I was ready to go.  I
pulled out of her ass and flipped her over.  When she realized I was aiming
for her pussy, I saw a look of panic, and then her face contorted again -
you gotta be fucking kidding me, bitch!  OK.  Hand on throat - squeeze. 
Her eyes, having been closed in focus, flew open in shock and I flashed her
a look that said "Did you forget or something?".  She had barely tensed up
her cunt and my cock managed to slide right in before she could really
clamp down - the "C clamp" had been defeated!

   I blew my load in her pussy again.  I don't know why, but I was starting
to like the idea of impregnating this child.  If that's what she was.  I
didn't care anymore.  She might be, and it seemed like she probably was. 
It seemed that would make me endlessly horny.  Now my cock was covered in
shit and quim.  I stood up and told her to suck it.  Again I got the outer
space look, as if I came from there.  I gave her throat a lovely squeeze.
She still resisted.  I pinched her voice-box She still seemed to hesitate.
So now what?  Do I make a snuff film without the camera or do I pussy out?
I shrugged and took a deep breath.  I wasn't about to back down to this
little teenage bitch.  She knew it.  She started sucking.  Her aunt was
pounding at the door now.  It was a very small room so I reached over and
unlocked it for her: "Come on in Mommy!  I want you to see what I'm doing
with our beautiful little daughter!"

   Edith opened the door, the scene didn't seem to impress her.  She just
shook her head, walked up to me, put a tit in my hand and said "Why on
earth do you want to fuck her?" I was close, so my answer to her was to
take her daughter/niece and throw her up on the bed and bury my naked cock
inside Shannon's waiting pussy.  Once more, the final time, I drained all
of what I had in my balls into Shannon's hot, young womb.  It felt as if I
emptied my whole soul into her little baby vagina.

   I watched as all color drained from Edith's face.  "What, Babe?  What's
the matter?  Oh, no condom?  Well, we used ours.  She's a big girl Edith.
She's 22, she can make her own decisions." Yes, I worded it this way on
purpose.  I wanted to know for sure, and the look on Edith's face told me
she knew for sure.  "But...she's only 13!  Only 13!" Shannon corrected her.
She'd turned 14 last month!  "Yeah Edith, she turned 14 a month ago.  So
it's OK." Edith threw out the pill question.  Apparently, it was OK with
her if her 14 or 13 year old niece fucked strange men for money without so
much as a condom, as long as she was on the pill.  Once again, the pill is
a no go.  She relied on nothing but condoms and luck, and she'd plum run
out of the latter.  Edith started doing calculations.  I don't know how
that whole thing works.  I should, but I don't really have reason to (I
guess maybe I did that night!).  But in any case, my call girl announced
that her niece was in prime season for pregnancy.  Yay me.

   I told Shannon to go clean up, I wasn't done with her yet.  She looked
up at me in horror.  Her mascara had streaked something awful.  All her
makeup had.  She looked like something out of a Max Hardcore movie.  I
actually got the idea of pissing on her and such...  but that probably
wouldn't go over well.  Then again, does she have a choice?  She staggered
to the bathroom and I talked to Edith for a moment.  At first she was livid
with me.  "Why her?  Why here?  Why didn't you want to fuck me?" Really? 
Did history change that fast?  I seem to recall someone spending the
fucking day on the floor sucking on a goddamn crack pipe while I sat on the
motherfucking bed, jerking off!  Oh well.  Then came the responsibility
questions.  I cut her off: "She's talking shit on you, babe." It was like I
had spoken Greek.  I had to explain - supposedly she's on the lease, half
this place is her and she pays her half of the rent and more.  Edith
screwed her out of a job and owed her money.  So on and so forth.  My girl
couldn't move.  I could have raped two that night, but rape is not really
in my nature (you probably don't believe that right now).

   Finally Edith's face hardened and she told me her decision: "I don't
care what you do to the little bitch.  But not in here.  I'll have to burn
these sheets from what you did in here.  You take it in the bathroom.  At
least that shit washes off OK, and you know what?  She owed me fucking
money!  Don't you give her another fucking cent!" I told her the 30 bucks
on the table was hers and I hoped it helped.  I got my clothes on as
Shannon came back into the room, better composed now, she looked at me
questioningly: "I thought you had more in store for me?" I confirmed:
"Sorry little girl, but I got a call.  I gotta go back across the state to
take care of a few things.  Got an emergency on my hands.  But I want you
so bad, I'd almost take you with me." "Will you?  I'll come with you?" I
laughed: "I can't afford that, and I know you're not going to come along
for free." She shook her head.  Of course not.  She's a whore.  Why become
a concubine for free?  I wonder what I would have done if she had agreed?
Perhaps that's something to consider for another story.
"What about the rest of my money?" she asked.  I explained that this
call kept me from doing everything I wanted to, and we had agreed to
anything I wanted.  I didn't even get to do a tenth of what I had planned.
But she got more than that in money.  She followed me down the stairs.  She
asked if there wasn't any money she could have.  I told her I'd given 10 to
her aunt for letting us use the room, but that was her aunt's.  "Will you
call me up when you're done?" I told her I didn't have her number.  "Give
me your number and I'll put it in my phone!" Great idea I told her.  Text
me at this number.  I'll text you back as soon as the message shows up.  I
didn't give her the right number because she was too stupid to actually
call the number.  I guess I shouldn't gloat that I'm smarter than a 14 year
old, but I'd only just come to terms with the fact that she really was, no

joking, 14 years old.

   I got in my car and headed toward the city limits.  Once there, traffic
slowed down a bit and I called Edith, whose number I had gotten before
Shannon even showed up.  I don't know what to think about the phone call
that took place.  Was Edith trying to rope me in?  I'm not sure.  I really
only called to let her know that I hadn't given Shannon my real number.  I
didn't tell her that the phone number ''she'' had and was talking to me at
that very moment belonged to a phone that had been purchased with cash, as
had the minutes I was using on the phone.  There was no connection between
me and the phone, and once the minutes were used up, I'd pull the battery,
break the phone, wipe it down, and find a location to dump them.  I guess
you can make your own decision as to what that says about me.

   That's when Edith threw it at me.  Shannon had set us up.  No, really.
She did.  The backstabbing I had told Edith about was nothing compared to
what Shannon had actually pulled.  The agency suspected when they talked to
Edith over the phone, and were told that I was gone, that they were being
lied to.  They told Shannon to find out if I was still there or not.  They
promised her that if she did this for them, they would let her stay with
Edith permanently.  So she came in, and found me naked on the bed.  But
that doesn't mean I'm a customer.  They have no idea what I look like, or
even what my name is.  She asked if I was a customer of Edith's.  Even if I
said yes and wasn't the customer she was looking for, it would mean Edith
was working on the side.  A big no-no.

   I said no, I'm just a friend.  I knew she couldn't contest that because
she had only been living there one day.

   So she offered me a turn.  And I accepted.  That did it.  And I gave her
money.  And I fucked her, and fucked her good too.  She called the company
the second I was out the door, who, moments later, called Edith to let her
know that she would be housing Shannon for as long as was necessary,
because if she refused, they'd just turn her into the police for
soliciting. See, technically, the agencies are legit because all they do is
set a girl up with a boy that wants some company.  They split the money
with the girl, based on whatever arrangement they have.  And whatever
happens beyond that is not their problem.  They could easily turn in every
one of their girls for solicitation, but it's bad for business.  Hell, it's
stupid for business.  But when you need leverage against a girl to get what
you want?  Well, that's different.

   She seemed to want to know what I wanted her to do.  About what?  This
is not my problem.  I told her I felt bad that she'd gotten played like
that and assured her I had no idea what was going on.  She accepted that,
but wanted to know what she could do.  I told her to quit.  There's other
agencies out there.  If her agency goes to the cops (and they won't if she
leaves): deny, deny, deny.  I told her if she needed a witness to call me,
I'd be there for her (lies, all lies!).  She thanked me for that, but said
that if she did any of that, the niece could go to the cops and admit her
age and claim that Edith had facilitated the rape.  After all, I'd paid her
for use of the room.

   It was clear that Miss Edith was in a world of shit.  And I was not. 
The adventure was over.  For me, anyway.  Next time...  I'm either
springing for a hotel room, or going with a nicer agency.  I think I just
have to.  But it was a hell of a time.  Likely impregnation of a 14 year
old minor hussy, which I'm blaming on my first time using crack cocaine. 
But then, honestly, what kind of excuse is that?  I can honestly say I'd
try the crack again.  But not for a long time.  Let me get this shit get
out of my system first.