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Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 01

By: SusanJillParker



June married young, at twenty, and by the time she was twenty-five, she had 3 children under the age of five-years-old. Unable to afford any more mistakes, after a night of passion, she had her tubes tied. Now, thirty-years-old, her last child was in school with his brother and sister. Finally, home alone with time on her hands, she could hear herself think.

Her husband worked as a machinist at Machine Die Cast Tool and made $18.00 an hour. A good wage for this small town, but not nearly good enough to pay all the bills, never mind to pay for any of the extras. They only have the one car, a 2004 Ford Taurus with over 100,000 miles on the odometer and it runs like crap. Good enough for her husband, John, to make it back and forth to work, which, fortunately, was only a ten mile roundtrip. Unfortunately, once he takes the car, unless she drives him to work on those days she needs to run errands, she's without transportation.

John works six days a week, half day on Saturday. The overtime that he makes, usually, 10 overtime hours a week, keeps them afloat. He plays the lottery every week hoping to win, but never wins more than a free bet. Forcing himself to quit smoking cold turkey, he buys his six pack of beer every Saturday, takes the kids to the park on Sunday, and does it all over again on Monday. Most times, it's a good life with a good wife, until he gets to thinking that he wants more.

Now that all three kids are in school, June had hopes of finding a part-time job to make a little extra money to tie them over, until payday Friday. Only, with nothing more than a high school education and no office or computer skills, the only place willing to hire her was McDonalds or Wal-Mart, neither of which appealed to her.

That's where Larry, her classmate from high school, comes into the story. He pimps on the side. Larry, a clerk at the sporting goods store rubs elbows with customers that have a few bucks. His main girl, Josephine, got knocked up and wants to keep the baby. His other girl, Daisy, after getting beaten and robbed by one of her Johns, has suddenly lost her appetite for the oldest profession and wants out of it. That's where June comes back into the story, again.

"Hey, how ya doin', Jane? What are you doing in here?"

"It's June."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever so, is June a month that should mean something to me?" He looked at her with a smug grin that she wiped from his face with a stare, while speaking a language that even he understood.

"June is my name, asshole."

"Oh, sorry. Can I help you find anything?"

"John's birthday," she helped clear his blank stare by crossing her arms across her breasts, when he focus his stare to her tits. "My husband's birthday is coming up and I'm shopping for a gift." She looked at Larry who started leading her to the high end fishing gear. "I only have thirty bucks to spend, Larry." She vaguely surveyed the store. "What can I buy that looks like it costs more? Do you have anything on sale that's a good value?"

"Well, what does he like to do? Does he like to hunt or fish?"

"He punches his bag in the garage. That's about the only thing he has time to do. Between his job and helping out with the kids on weekends, he barely has time to watch television."

"Boxing, huh? Do you know if he has a pair of bag gloves?"

"Bag gloves? You mean the gloves you put on your hands to hit the bag?"

"Yeah," he said walking her over to the boxing section and picking up a nice pair of weighted Everlast gloves."

"Yeah, he does, but they're old, worn, and smelly. They aren't heavy like these. I don't think they're even leather." She stuck her hand inside the glove. "These are nice, real nice." She smiled proudly. "He's been teaching me how to hit the bag and how to throw a punch. He said that I have a good left hand."

"Yeah, these are the best bag gloves we have, Jane," he said and corrected himself, when she shot him another look. "I mean, June."

"How much are they?"

"These are too much," he said looking inside and pulling out the tag. These are a hundred bucks." He held them up like he was holding a trophy. "These are what the professional boxers use."

"Yeah, well, that's way out of my budget," she said pulling the glove off her hand and gently setting it down, as if it was an expensive dish of chinaware. She tightened the grip of her shoulder bag while looking off in other directions of the store.

"I'll tell you what," he said rubbing his mouth, as if he was a man dying of thirst. He had a thoughtful face, as if he was about to tell her a secret.

Larry took her all in with one look. He peered down her gaping sweatshirt, when he threw his arm around her shoulder. She had a nice set of C cup tits and with a little makeup, her hair cut and colored, and a proper outfit, she'd look pretty hot, hot enough for someone to pay big bucks to fuck and/or suck.

"When is John's birthday?"

"Oh," she said slithering away from his hold, "I have some time, not until next month, August 27th."

"Good. That's good," he said, as if he was arranging his schedule in his mind to attend John's birthday party, after being invited. Only, June hadn't invited him.

He studied her figure again with a look that paid special attention to her hips. She had a nice ass and great legs for someone, who has given birth to three kids. Most of the women he knows have already started packing on the pounds.

"These are going on sale in a couple of weeks, marked down to $69 and with the employee discount that I receive; I'll pick them up for you for your thirty bucks. Actually, I get a 20% discount and can buy them for $55.00."

"I only have $30.00 to spend," she said looking at Larry with suspicion.

"Don't worry about it, June. I'll make up the difference, as my gift to you for your husband," he said with a creepy smile.

"Really? You'd do that for me? Why?" She looked at him with suspicion.

"Sure, we go way back, Jane," he said her name wrong again.

"It's June."

"Yeah, sorry, whatever, I had a brain freeze."

He looked at her face again. Had anyone known he was a pimp looking for a hooker to work the upcoming holiday season at the hotel downtown, June was certainly pretty enough to make him some much needed extra money and fill his stable of none. He handed her his salesman's business card.

"My cell phone number is on there. Give me a call in a few weeks and I'll drop off the gloves, when John's not home."

"Thanks, Larry."

"Yeah, sure, no problem," he said watching her ass wiggle away, as she left him and the store behind.

A few weeks later June called Larry.

"Hello."

"Hi Larry."

"Who's this?"

"June."

"June? June who? I don't know any dame named June."

"Bag glove June from the sporting goods store," she said with a laugh, ready to hang up the phone.

"Oh, June, yeah, hi. How are ya?"

"John works Saturday mornings," she felt the uncomfortable silence, "my husband, birthday John."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm with you. You're the birthday bag glove lady."

"Yes," she said relived that he finally remembered her.

"And you want me to drop the bag gloves off Saturday morning, while he's at work?"

"Yes and I'll pay you the thirty dollars for the gloves."

"Thirty dollars?"

"Yeah, you said that the gloves were going on sale for $69 and with your discount that you could get them for $55. You told me that you'd make up the difference," she said with nervous anticipation, while thinking what else she could buy her husband on short notice, should Larry not come through with the gloves.

"Did I say that?"

Suddenly June was in a panic.

"Yeah, you did, Larry."

"I thought I said $50."

"Well, if that's the case then forget about..."

"I'm just having some fun with you Jane, I mean, June."

That Saturday morning, Larry was out to her house dropping off the bag gloves for John's upcoming birthday party.

"Hi, Larry, come in," she said suddenly having second thoughts about inviting Larry in her house, but the kids were in the living room playing video games. It wasn't as if she was alone with him.

"Here are your gloves, Jane."

"It's June, Larry, like the month."

"Yeah, right, sorry. I guess I have one of those mental blockades. Once I get something in my head, I can't remove it. June, June, June. Okay, I got it."

"Here's your $30.00," she said handing him a ten and a twenty with a smile. "Thank you so much for doing this for me, Larry. I very much appreciate the favor. Maybe I can do you a favor, sometime."

"Yeah, sure, no problem."

He looked behind her at her bedroom and she responded by blocking the doorway with more of her body. Her small house was eternally cluttered with the toys of three kids playing everywhere in the house. She relented and stepped away from her opened bedroom door, when he insisted with his look.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" She deflected his attention from her bedroom to the kitchen.

"Sure, I'd like that. We can catch up on old times," he said following behind her.

She led him to the kitchen where he sat waiting for his coffee.

"Cream and sugar?"

"No, just black, please."

She sat and sipped her coffee, while wishing she hadn't invited him in her house, when her husband wasn't home, but there was no other way to get the boxing gloves. She could have met him at the store, but she didn't have a car. Wishing she never allowed him to do her the favor of getting the bag gloves, she wished he'd just leave. He gave her the creeps for some reason, probably the way that he looked at her, undressing her with his eyes. Her husband would be home soon and he was the jealous sort with a violent temper.

"So, do you like working at the sporting goods store?"

"Like it? It sucks. It's just a job that I do to make contacts."

"Contacts? What do you mean, contacts?"

"I operate an escort service."

"Really? An escort service? Here in nowheresville?" She laughed. "I wouldn't think there'd be a need to hire an escort around here with everyone knowing everyone and there's no place to go, except for the movie theatre, the diner, the gas station, the strip mall, the factory, and the hotel," she said pausing with the image of the hotel in her head. Now, she understood, why someone would need an escort.

"That's right. We have a hotel and a convention center downtown. A man gets lonely and wants the company of an attractive female for coffee, dinner," he said pausing, "and dessert."

June quietly sipped her coffee wondering about the life of an escort. It sounded so much more exciting than keeping house and watching over three, small kids. John never takes her anywhere. There's never any extra money or time for a movie. It's always such a bother trying to find a babysitter for three kids and scrapping up the money to pay the babysitter puts them over their entertainment budget, when they can just barely afford the tickets to the movie.

"Just curious. What does something like that pay?"

Larry jumped at the opportunity to sell his service to her.

"It depends, June," he said getting her name right, this time.

"It depends on what?"

"On the time spent together and the level of service you give the customer. Some of these out of town city slickers tip pretty good for women, who are extra nice to them, if you know what I mean," he said with a wink and a sick smile.

"Nice to them? What do you mean by nice?" June was no dummy and could tell that Larry was holding back and not being forthcoming with information. "What would a girl have to do to make the big tips?"

"Well, you know, some guys get lonely and might want to spend some alone time with the escort in the privacy of their hotel room."

"You mean sex?" She stood and shot him a look. "Prostitution?"

The thought of having sex with a strange man excited her, but made her sick to her stomach at the same time. She had only been with John. They were steady boyfriend and girlfriend, since high school. She's never even seen another man's cock, never mind touched one, other than John's cock.

"It's none of my business what two consenting adults do behind closed doors, June" he said raising his hands and waving them like little stop signs at a railroad crossing. "So long as I get my piece of the pie, everyone is happy," he said taking a sip of his coffee. "Think of me as a facilitator, a matchmaker, a--"

"You're a pimp, aren't you?"

"I don't refer to myself as a pimp. I'm in the entertainment business. I'm more of a provider of a lady of the night to a gentleman of distinction. There are those who travel the country and who appreciate the attention of a beautiful woman, when in an unfamiliar town. Traveling for a living is a lonely business and I'm here to help fill that need."

"You dress it up all fancy like Larry, but it still smells like you're just looking for a whore." She gave him a hard look. "Is that why you came sniffing around me? Is that why you got me a good deal on boxing gloves for my husband hoping to get on my good side and hoping that I'd work for you?"

"Listen, June, everyone can use a bit of extra pocket money. The work is easy. You go only as far as you want. The rest is up to you. There's no pressure. No strings. Some guys are so lonely for a woman's companionship that they just wanna talk. Some guys just wanna feel and see your tits. Other guys expect a little more, a hand job. Some of my girls make as much as a thousand dollars a night for giving guys blowjobs and more." He gave her his smug look. "Do you suck cock, June?"

"Get out of my house, Larry."

"C'mon, June, it's just sex," he said wrapping an arm around her waist, in the way of a Boa Constrictor.

"Get out, Larry," she said pushing against his chest and unwinding herself from his grasp, while pushing him out the door with a straight arm.

"Listen," he said turning to face her and reaching out his hand to cup her tit through her blouse. "You have my card, call me if you change your mind and if you want—"

"My husband will be home soon," she said looking down and watching his fingers find and feel her nipple, "and if you don't want him trying out his birthday gift on your face, I suggest you leave. Now!"

Even though the thoughts of being an escort intrigued her, at first, she didn't think of the sexual requirements of the job, until now. Sounding like fun, she thought only of the entertainment factors, going out to eat, attending shows, and having interesting conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Now, June didn't think any more about Larry or about his escort business. She rationalized that when Larry presented her the proposition, she had just sent her last child to school and was bored with her life of housewife. Now, thinking more about and confronted with the reality of what was expected of her as an escort, she decided that she couldn't sell herself for any amount of money.

It made her skin crawl to think about another man kissing her, touching up, and expecting her to give him a hand job, blowjob or to fuck her. Notwithstanding how she first felt about having sex with a man, other than her husband, when she thought about the feel of a stranger's cock in her hand, in her mouth or up her pussy, she became sexually aroused. Maybe, she'd reconsidered, if the money was right and the man was nice. She could do it with an attractive man, someone more her age, but chances are that she'd have to escort a much older man, someone who wasn't as attractive and/or appealing. Suddenly she thought of a bald, fat man in his fifties sickened her. She threw up in her mouth a little and her skin crawled again.

Besides, what would she say to John? How would she get out of the house? How would she explain the sudden infusion of money? In all the years together, she had never lied to him, not once, not ever.

Still, there was a flicker of excitement whenever she thought about Larry fondling her tit. Even though Larry was not much to look at, wasn't her type, and she wasn't attracted to him, his sudden touch of her nipple through her blouse and bra with his fingertips sent sexual shivers throughout her body that made her wet with desire for the attention of a man, other than her husband. She wondered what it would be like to make love to Larry and to suck his cock. She wondered what his cock looked like, if he was cut or uncut and how big he was. He had made her horny enough that day, but she resisted reaching down and feeling his erection. She knew that he had one because she saw it grow, as soon as he touched her breast.

Now, she wished he had forced her hand down on his erection and made her touch his cock and feel it. While she touched her wet spot in the privacy of her closed bedroom, she wished that he had forced her to blow him. She liked the attention that he gave her and the way that he looked at her was how John used to look at her. The realization scared her that she'd do anything to receive that attention again. Moving her finger away from her pussy, she quickly erased the thoughts of Larry from her mind.

John had steadily been working 50 plus hours a week and he was always so tired, too tired to do anything, even have sex, except for her giving him a blowjob. He was always in the mood for that. He was never in the mood to spend some extra time pleasuring her. Yet, when it came to reciprocating and satisfying her sexually, he had already turned over and gone to sleep. They hardly ever made love anymore, not since the kids were born, one right after the other. And now, with the things that had suddenly happened and changed their lives for the worse, John was depressed. Sometimes he had trouble getting it up and would suddenly go soft in her mouth. Tired of having to satisfy herself with her fingers, she was always so horny. She missed the feeling of a man inside of her humping her, while fucking her.

She missed the romance and the attentiveness that diminished more with the birth of each child. Now, with her days filled with drudgery and with one day melding into the next, until she didn't know what day it was, except for the joy of her children, she felt that there was no purpose to her life. She was too young to give up her life to them and to relegate her identity to just that of wife, housekeeper, and mother. She wanted something more. She wanted some excitement in her life. Only, there was never any extra money for anything. She couldn't remember the last time John took her out to eat or to a movie or bought her flowers. She couldn't remember when there was money enough to get her hair done. forget about buying something new.

The next few months were rough. The manufacturing plant where her husband worked had fallen upon hard times with cash flow problems and he soon became nervous about his job. He had seniority, but it was not a union shop and they had just cut out all of his overtime to save money due to production cuts. Now, June was hard pressed to live on his regular paycheck without the overtime. They had continually counted on that extra money. The overtime is what kept them afloat. It was a trickledown effect and they were at the bottom of the trickle. General Electric, the company's biggest customer, gave a large contract to India with some of the work that would have come his company's way was now earmarked for overseas. Unless the company found new customers and more business, layoffs were inevitable.

Even the local McDonald's and Wal-Mart weren't hiring. Suddenly, everyone was tightening their belts readying for a recession. There were no jobs and those that had jobs were digging in and doing everything that they could do to keep them. People stopped spending money. Entertainment, movies and going out to dinner, were the first things to stop. Restaurants were shortening their hours or closing completely. Especially with all the mortgage foreclosures, everyone feared a recession that could last years.


Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 01



Their worst fears materialized when John was laid-off indefinitely a week before Thanksgiving. Normally, the company passed out turkeys to their employees, but this year there wasn't even the money to do that. They had no savings to fall back on and the realization that John wouldn't receive his extra weeks pay as a Christmas bonus that they used to buy the kids gifts on layaway at Toys-R-Us was a reality check of what was to come. John's unemployment check, which was much less than his regular salary that they struggled to live on, was all that they had now. With the three little ones always getting sick or hurt, with doctors' bills and prescription drugs part of their yearly budget, she didn't know what to do to make ends meet.

June had gotten through plenty of tough times, but this time was worst than what she had experienced. They had an adjustable rate mortgage and the interest rate suddenly jumped up 3 points and two hundred dollars more a month. They had expected the increase and were hoping to refinance their mortgage for a lower fixed rate, but now with John out of work they were at the bank's mercy. Moreover, their only car needed a transmission and their temporary health insurance had higher co-pays and less coverage. Financial ruin was quickly closing in upon them. Now, the extra money they paid on their credit cards to help pay down their debt was now reduced to minimum payments that only kept them current with the interest charged. June had nightmares that she was drowning and she was. She was drowning in debt.

They needed an infusion of money to stop the bleeding. June panicked. She didn't want to lose her house. She needed to have transportation and she wanted her children to have the best healthcare available. She had only graduated high school and without having an education and/or skills she had little to offer an employer. Employers had their pick of applicants, who had college degrees and years of experience. 

She called Larry.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 02



Chapter 02

Desperate for money, June gives prostitution a try. 

June picked up the telephone receiver three times and hung it up three times. The fourth time, she dialed the number and, holding back her tears, she cradled the receiver to her breast.

"Hello? Hello? Hello?"

"Hi Larry, it's June," she said finally lifting the receiver to her ear and mouth.

"Well, well, well. Do you need more sporting goods because, this time, after the way you treated me the last time, it will cost you full price."

"I apologize for my rude behavior, Larry, but you must understand that John is the only man I've ever been intimate with and you shocked me, when you grabbed my breast and fingered my nipple."

"You probably felt the same way the first time he fucked you, June, no doubt. Right? Am I right? Right? Yeah, sure, no doubt, you probably still think that you're a virgin."

"After birthing three children, I'm sure that I don't think of myself as a virgin, Larry," she said with a laugh. "Besides, just because John and I were in love and I was a virgin, when we had intimate relations, doesn't mean that I'm a prude either. I've been around."

His abrupt manner reinforced her reason for not wanting to call him. She felt sick to her stomach and it took all the control she had not to slam the receiver down in his ear.

"Love, what is love anyway? No one is in love with anyone. We all love ourselves too much to love someone else. We all love money. Money is what we love. Money is the only thing that anyone loves. There's no room for love without money and there's no room for love with money. Money gets in the way of love, June. You can live without love, but you can't live without money."

She hoped that he wasn't right. You're wrong, she wanted to say, but didn't. His sudden outburst, albeit somewhat prophetic, shocked her. After being so poor for so long, after her lack of money has diminished her love for her husband, she knew he was right. Nonetheless, she didn't want him to know that she agreed with anything that he said or thought, except for that bitter fact that she needed money to make ends meet. Moreover, upping his use from a six pack a week to a six pack a day, John had started drinking again. There were no jobs and his unemployment was quickly running out. Bill collectors were calling night and day.

"Can we meet somewhere out of town where we can talk over a cup coffee?"

"You can meet me here at my place, June," said Larry. "No one will see you."

The thought of meeting Larry at his place excited her and revolted her at the same time. Having never been alone with another man without her husband and/or her children acting as her protectors and preservers of her reputation, it had been a long while, since she had sex and she was horny, but not necessarily for Larry. She was horny for the warm feel of a hard cock inside of her pussy.

"I'd rather we met at a public place where we can—"

"Is that what you're going to tell all your clients, when you're called to escort them? Hell, if you can't even meet face to face with me, your manager, then maybe we shouldn't even be having this conversation."

She thought about it. He was right. Besides, what did it matter? Either she was going through with this or not. Either she was doing this or not. Larry wasn't a problem. She could cold cock, if he became fresh, in the way he did, when he grabbed her breast and fingered her nipple through her blouse and bra. Truth be told, in the horny way she felt right now, she wouldn't so mind him touching her in that way again.

"Okay, okay, what time?"

"You know where I live?"

Knowing him like she did, he probably still lived at home with his mother.

"Are you still on Heather Lane?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"Now, meet me now."

"No, I can't. I have the kids. John went out to the employment agency. I don't know when he'll be back," she thought, figuring, no doubt, he'd hit the bar to feel sorry for himself over one too many beers, before heading home drunk. She pondered what time was a good time to meet Larry. "I'll meet you tonight, around 8pm, after I put the kids to bed. I'll make an excuse to John to leave."

"I'll see you then and don't—"

The sound of his voice grated on her nerves and she hung up the phone, before he finished any more of his stupid talk.

John didn't come home. Just as she figured, he was out drunk somewhere feeling sorry for himself. She called her mother to babysit the kids, while she went to meet with Larry. Hoping he wouldn't be stupid enough to drive home drunk, John had the car, so she had to take the bus to his house.

Excited at the same time with the thought of the sexual adventure, she was sick with the thoughts of working for Larry and having sex with strange men. She was tired from her worry that caused her not to sleep a full night. Desperate and unable to think of what else to do, they were stuck. She didn't want to lose her house. She didn't want to be put out in the street by the sheriff, like some stray dog. There wasn't even enough equity in the house to sell it. They only bought it three years ago and had to pay points and a higher interest rate that was now even higher. They stood to lose the down payment they put down to buy the house, if the bank was to take it.

She walked up the path that led to Larry's house. The houses were far enough apart and the bus stop was not near any of the houses that no one saw her. Besides, except for Larry, she didn't know anyone from this part of town. She hadn't been down around here in years, when she had to go this way to go to high school.

Larry was waiting for her on his front porch with a big ass smile on his face, as if to tell her that he knew she'd changed her mind and work for him. The little sexual excitement she had with the thoughts of escorting strange me, while traveling on the bus was replaced by fear. She didn't trust him. For all that she knew, maybe his escort business was all imagined. Maybe this was just a ruse to get her alone.

"It took you long enough to get here. You said 8 o'clock. It's almost 8:30, he said holding up his watch arm. I figured you weren't coming. I was just about to go out to check on my stable of women," he said lying. The only woman he hoped to have was her.

"I had to wait for my Mom to get to the house. Then, I had to wait for the bus. John has the car," she said without looking up at him, suddenly filled with dread.

"I would have picked you up," he said and she shot him a look that told him that was a bad idea. "You're Mom could have—"

"How could I explain that I was going to your house?"

"Yeah, well, if you're working for me, that's a bridge we'll have to cross, because I'll need you to make your appointments on time. Come inside," he said acting like the gentleman that he wasn't by holding the door open for her.

As soon as he closed the front door behind her, he was all over her trying to kiss her. When she resisted his attempts to kiss her, he felt her ass. When she pushed him away, he squeezed her tits. She felt like she was back in high school at the drive-in. Then, when he tried lifting up her blouse, she kneed him in the balls.

"Jesus Christ, June! Great! That's just great," he said. "Is that what you're going to do, if a paying client wants a little sexual comfort?"

"A sexual little comfort? Is that what you were trying to do? I thought you were attacking me," she said with smugness. She stepped back from him and fixed her clothes. "I don't know, Larry, I just don't know what I'd do if someone attacked and molested me in the way you just did." She looked at him bent over and holding himself. "I'm sorry. You surprised me. It was just a kneejerk reaction," she said with a laugh. "I didn't expect that from you," she said taking a step forward to touch his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He rushed at her again and they struggled. He kissed her hard this time and she pulled away, but he pushed her back up against the wall again and kissed her again. He was too strong for her and even though she could have struggled more to resist him, this time, she allowed him to kiss her and, when he forced his tongue past her lips, she allowed that, too.

He reached between her legs and felt her where no one but John has ever touched her. Even though she recoiled from his touch, she responded by not brushing his hand away. Obviously, for him to touch her in the way, touching her through her pants and panties, he knew how to pleasure a woman. She was glad she decided to wear pants and not her short skirt.

Immediately, as it had before, his hand found her breast and she allowed him to touch her there, too. His hands were all over her big tits. Fondling and caressing her breasts, he fingered her nipples through her blouse and bra. She stopped him when he started unbuttoning her blouse.

"What the Hell you doing, Larry?"

"This is how it works, June. You gotta have sex with me first, before I hire your ass. How do I know if you're any good? How do I know how much to charge my clients if I don't know what you can do?"

She looked at him with as much horniness, as she looked at him with emptiness. He made her feel dirty. She was sickened by the thought of him having sex with her. She was sick to her stomach and wanted to vomit all over him.

Having already thought about it, she wanted to escort men, talk to them, go to dinner with them, watch a movie, and have a drink. Maybe, she'd even go as far as a goodnight kiss and some light petting, but not this desperate groping and, especially, not in this way. More akin to a wrestling match, this had nothing to do with making love. Only, there was nothing romantic about trading sex for money. Love had nothing to do with prostitution. She thought of her alternatives and there were none. The phone, gas, and electricity were due for shutoff, if she didn't pay the past-due balance, at the very least. She needed money and she needed money now.

She moved her hand away and allowed him to continue unbuttoning her blouse. Larry unbuttoned her blouse and splayed it wide open. No man but her husband, had ever seen her in just her bra before. As if he was a starving man hoping to suck out some milk, he fell upon her bra covered breasts and sucked her nipples through her bra. That's going to leave a mark on her bra, she thought, deciding to wash her bra, as soon as she got home. He reached down and unbuttoned her cuffs, slipped her blouse from her shoulders, and removed it. Then, he reached down fumbling with her button, before unzipping her pants and forcing them down to her ankles. He lifted her feet out of her pants and pushed them aside with his foot.

Standing in front of Larry in her bra and panty, June didn't help him strip her. She couldn't. She was somewhere else thinking other thoughts. She was anywhere but here with Larry having his way with her body. Such a fairytale romance in marrying her childhood sweetheart, what has her life become? Comatose like, she was in shock. She didn't more. She couldn't move.

Next, he reached behind him and unhooked her bra. The smell of his cologne, English Leather, she didn't know they still made that fragrance, upset her stomach. Once he removed her bra, he was all over her C cup tits. Always proud of her natural C cup breasts, so firm and so shapely, they were magnificent. He took a step back to look at them before reaching out to touch them, feel them, and caress them. He fingered her nipples, tugged at them, and pulled them out until they were fully erect. Then, he moved forward to take them in his mouth.

"You have beautiful breasts, June. The best tits I've ever seen and I've seen so beautiful knockers to know that you big boobs are the best."

"Thank you, Larry," she said looking down at him staring at her tits.

If she had a cigarette, she'd smoke it, but she didn't smoke. If he had offered her a beer, she'd drink it, but she didn't drink alcohol either. Always a good girl, if being bad meant that she'd be good to make more money in tips, then she was prepared to be bad, very bad.

When he leaned down to suck her nipples, with thoughts of her babies sucking her tits, she cradled the back of his head with her hand running her fingers through his hair. It was a mindless reaction. Forgetting for a moment that it was Larry sucking her tits, it felt good to feel him suck her nipples. She imagined he was someone else. She imagined he was John and that everything was okay between them. Only, it wasn't John. It was Larry. It had been a long while since John or any man paid her any attention to her, even if that attention came from Larry. 

He felt her between her legs and through her panty fingering her pussy through the cotton material, before pulling them down and off. She felt so violated. He fell to his knees and, as if smelling the natural, musky scent of her, he stuck his nose in her untrimmed bush. She felt so humiliated.

"You need to either shave all this hair off or trim it. Guys don't like a full bush, unless they have a fetish for it and pay for you to grow it. Most guys want a shaved beaver."

He pulled her by her arm to his bedroom and French kissed her deeply before pushing her back on the bed.

"Wait," she said, pulling away from him. "Where's your Mom?"

"She died last year."

"Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry, Larry," she said without receiving an acknowledgement from him.

"I like your body, June. We can make money with what you have to offer men and women."

Women? She hadn't thought about having sex with a woman, until he mentioned it. She wasn't lesbian, but the thought of being with a woman appealed more to her than it did having a bald, fifty-something, fat man pawing her.

Quickly he stripped out of his clothes and offered his erect cock to her. She took it in her hand without looking at him and held it without stroking him. How could she fall so far so fast? After never even lying to her husband, here she was naked and in bed with another man and about to cheat on her husband with the Devil himself. Help me, Jesus, she thought, but Jesus didn't answer her prayers, when Larry stuck his cock deep inside of her mouth.

"Look at me," he said. "Make me feel that you really want me. Stroke my cock, June. Your money, your return customers, and your tips depend on how good you make your man feel." He moved closer to her. "Take my cock in your mouth. Suck it and while you're sucking me, look up at me and smile to show me that you're enjoying sucking my cock, as much as I'm enjoying having you suck my cock."

She stroked him while staring at his circumcised cock. He wasn't very big, certainly much smaller than John. She looked up at him before looking down at his erect cock and before taking him in her mouth. She stroked him as she sucked him, while looking up at him with her brown eyes. She twirled her tongue all around his head, while stroking him faster and hoping that he'd cum soon, just to end this unpleasant experience. Although it had not been that long since she sucked John's cock, finally in the mood enough to suck Larry, she was horny enough to blow him, too.

"Okay, that's enough," he said moving away from her head and moving between her legs. "Show me what you got. Fuck me senseless, June. Fuck me, as if you love me," he said with his sick, little laugh.

She humped him as soon as he inserted himself in her pussy. She was already wet. She was so horny that she would have fucked anyone at this point, even Larry. It had been a long while, since she had gotten laid.

Unfortunately, Larry was a disappointment. He wasn't much of a fuck. He shot a load of cum within five minutes, slam bam. She was so glad she made the decision to have her tubes tied. She'd never want to be pregnant again, especially with his baby or anyone's baby.

"That was incredible. You're the best piece of ass I've ever had."

She figured that she was the only piece of ass he ever had and wondered which farm animal won the prize for second place. 

"So," she said looking at him.

"So what?"

"How much would I make on my back sucking and fucking someone like that, in the way I just did you?"

"For all that you did and for the way that you look? You'd be my top earner. I'd charge fifty bucks just for a hand job, hundred dollars for a blow job, and two hundred bucks for intercourse, and more, if you stayed the whole night, and even more, if they wanted you to stay the entire weekend."

"Give," she said extending her hand palm up.

"Give what?"

"You owe me $350."

"The fuck I do," he said staring her down.

"I gave you a hand job, blew you, and fucked you. That's fifty for the hand job, a hundred for the blowjob, and two hundred for you fucking me. You owe me $350."

"I'm not paying you shit."

She stood and erected all of her 5'9" frame against his 5'7" skinny body. Then, she put her hand to his scrawny neck, squeezed, and pushed him up against the wall.

"I need the money, Larry. If you want me to work for you, you'll pay me what you took from me and what you owe me. Pay me or I'll beat it the fuck out of you." She squeezed her hand tighter around his neck. "Oh, and thanks for the bag gloves. My husband has been teaching me a few moves."

"Okay, okay, but you're working for me now. After this, you dance to my music and whatever I say goes. I set up the appointments and you do the rest. Whatever you make, we split 70/30, seventy for me and thirty for you."

"Fuck you. We me taking all the risks, the split is fifty, fifty," she said squeezing tighter.

"Okay, okay, 60/40 and we have a deal."

"Fifty, fifty," she said squeezing tighter and pushing him back harder.

"Fuck! Okay, okay," he said gasping for breath, while nodding his agreement. She let him go and he walked to his dresser. He removed a roll of money from his sock drawer, peeled off some, and counted out $350.

"After this, when you give me another hand job, blow me, and fuck me again, the price is $175 with me taking out my split."

"Don't worry about that, Larry. I'll never touch your scrawny, little cock again, with my hand, mouth, and/or pussy."

"I'll see you back here Saturday night. I have a couple of clients, who need some comforting, if you know what I mean."

"Here at your house?" She looked around the small house. "We're going to do it here?"

"My place is cheaper and more private than any hotel and just as comfortable. Besides, I can take care of things should there be a problem," he said pulling out a handgun from his drawer.

"Put that away, before you shoot yourself," she said backing away, before he accidentally shot her.

June took a ride home from Larry. He let her out a few streets from her house. When she opened the door and went to her bedroom, her mother and John were drunk, naked, and in bed together.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 03



June catches her husband and her mother naked and in bed together.

Mom! John! What the fuck! Are you kidding me?"

She threw her handbag at her husband. He blocked it with his big hand and all the contents spilled out all over the floor and the bed. Lipstick, makeup, change, checkbook, and money, three hundred and fifty dollars, to be exact, flew in every direction.

June, John, and June's mother, Nancy, stared down at the three crisp one hundred dollar bills with a fifty. John reached for it, but June rushed over, scooped it up, and stuffed it down her bra, before he could get his big mitts on it.

"Where you'd get that kind of money?" As if looking at her for the first time, he looked at her with a hard stare. "And why are you dressed like that, like a whore?"

She figured that this wasn't the first time John and her mother were together. They were always flirting and laughing over their private jokes that she never got. Why not? John was a good looking guy and her mother was lonely. She was still very attractive. No doubt, with her sucking and fucking her husband, she still had sexual desires, lustful needs, and incestuous urges.

It was a small town with only so many available men. There was no place for her mother to go to meet someone without having the entire town gossiping about her. How convenient, perversely twisted, so very private, and incestuously sordid to have her get what she needs from her daughter's husband? And her husband dare calls her a whore because she fixes her hair and wears a bit of lipstick and eye makeup. How dare he, when he's nothing but a drunken scumbag.

Now, it all made sense why John hasn't been having sex with her, not for a while. She figured it was because he's been drunk more than he's been sober and just couldn't get an erection. Now, she figured that he's been having sex with her mother, instead. She remembered reading that story he left open on the computer, when he rushed to go to the bathroom suddenly, Escalator Stripped My Mother Naked by Bostonfictionwriter. He was probably in there jerking off over it, the pig. She read the story and thought it was hot, especially if you were the type of guy, who was into that kind of forbidden, incestuous writing. Now, obviously seeing him naked and in bed with her naked mother, she figured that he was.

She remembered one day, John had come home for lunch. He never comes for lunch. She had called her mother over to watch the kids, while she ran some errands. When she came home suddenly, after forgetting to take the prescriptions for the pharmacy, her mother came up from the cellar with her blouse buttoned up in the wrong holes. She had a drip of white stuff in the corner of her mouth that she said was foam from the latte that John had bought her.

Even though she suspected differently, even though she wondered if that was the truth, she believed her. Why wouldn't she? She was her mother. Now, she wondered if it was her husband's cum on her lip and not foamed milk. Now, she wondered if she had been sucking him off down the cellar, while doing laundry just before she came home from running errands. Maybe in a rush to get dressed to babysit the kids, her blouse was like that already and she just hadn't noticed. The two of them probably figured that they had plenty of time to fool around and they would have, had she not forgotten the prescriptions at home on the kitchen table. 

She never thought anything of it, that her mother was always walking around her husband in her nightgown, bending over, squatting down, and leaning over him to help pick up when June was sick in bed and needed her mother's help with the kids. She figured that John would never been interested in her 50-year-old mother's body, when he had her 33-year-old body to fuck. Now that she thought more about it, John was always free with his touchy feely hands tickling her, holding her, and hugging her mother. She stupidly thought it was just a sign of affection between mother and son-in-law. Matter of fact, she was happy that they got along so well. Only, know she knows that it was more than that. It was sex.

It was all coming back to her now. She remembered the time the three of them went to the beach and her mother asked John to put lotion on her back. She thought it was funny that, instead of rubbing her back with lotion, he stole her bikini top. The sight of her mother running after him down the beach holding her tits in her hands was hysterically funny, but not so funny now.

In hindsight, it was more of the sexual games that they played. Little did they try to hide their sexual games from her naïveté. He played his sexual games with her mother that he should have played with her, his wife, but with three, small children to care for and always so tied, she didn't have the time or the inclination to play any sexual games. Notwithstanding the teasing and the good relationship that he had with her mother, she trusted them. When she trusted someone, it was easy for them to cheat because she would never believe that they will, especially with her own mother. 

She remembered one time her mother was cleaning up the spilled cereal the kids had dropped at breakfast. John stood in the doorway watching Nancy squatting down while talking to her. From where he stood, she was certain that he had a clear view down her nightgown of her tits and up her nightgown of her pussy, as she never wore panties to bed. The thoughts sickened her and she erased them from her mind, while never believing that her husband would be interested and/or attracted to her mother in the way that she should be attracted to her.

She figured it was all in her imagination that troubled her thoughts with sleeplessly, while worrying about how to pay the bills and now worrying, if John still wanted to stay married to her. She never believed that her mother would purposely flash her son but, obviously, she was. She'd never think that her husband would be looking to see what he could see of her mother's tits and pussy but, obviously, he was. That's crazy to think that her husband would have lustful thoughts and sexual desires for her mother but, obviously, he had.

She thought it was her imagination that her Mom enjoyed giving John a show of her panties, bra, pussy, and tits whenever she could make it appear accidental. Now, she wondered if her mother had been flashing her husband on purpose all these years. By sexually teasing him with flashes of bits and pieces of her naked body, she wondered if her mother had been the one, who lured her husband to have sex with her. Maybe it was her fault and not his. Yet, it takes two and he could have said no but, obviously, he didn't.

Yet, what did it matter, now? He succumbed to her sexual charms and had sex with her. He's just as guilty for having sex with his mother, as she is for sucking and fucking her son-in-law. Now, she knew what was going on between them behind her back. Now, that she's seen it with her own two eyes, she wanted them out of her house and out of her life. 

Had she not been witness to her mother naked in bed with her husband, she would have thought quick, made up an excuse, and lied about where she got the money. Now, because she was hurt and betrayed by the only two people she loved, besides her children, she wanted to hurt her husband and mother as much as they hurt her.

"Where'd you get the money?"

Grabbing her by the neck, in the way that she took hold of Larry, he took hold of her. Then, when she didn't answer him right away, he took her by her shoulders and shook her. He was naked and his wiggling semi-erect cock was still glistening with her mother's secretions from just having had sex with her. Disgusted by the naked sight of him, just as she did with Larry, she kneed her husband hard in the balls and he collapsed on the bed.

"Do you want to know where I got the money to keep a roof over our heads and feed our children, while you're out drinking, getting drunk, and fucking my mother? I fucked and sucked a man for it." Tears poured down her face. "Yeah, while you were here fucking my mother, John, I had sex with a man for money, so that we can keep our house and pay our bills. I gave him a hand job, blew him, and then fucked him."

"Who is he? I'll kill him!" He said still in pain and clutching himself, while in the fetal position with a face full of rage and a handful of ruptured balls.

"Get out! Both of you get out. Get out of my house," she screamed.

John and Nancy gathered up their clothes and left together.

"I'm sorry," said Nancy to her daughter. "We'll be at my house, when you come to your senses and want to talk."

"Come to my senses? I'd have to be drunk and as crazy as you two are to have that kind of delusional sense." She slapped her mother hard across her face. "Get the fuck out of my house," she said pushing her mother towards the door. "Get out!"

Nancy had June, when she was seventeen. June swore she'd have a better life than her mother had. She never knew who her father was. Probably, her mother didn't know that either. She was drunk then, as she's drunk now. She had stopped drinking, but fell off the wagon when the man she was seeing regularly left her suddenly for someone younger. Same story, but still sad, a man dumping the woman his age for someone younger.

June felt history repeating itself. She felt no escape from the poverty, from the misery, and from the Hell of a life her mother had lived. The only way she knew how to make money now was to give men what they wanted. Prostitution was the only way she knew how to get herself out of poverty and misery. Only instead of climbing out of the hole she was in, she was digging it deeper.

With the recent events of her husband losing his job, the possibility of them losing their house, and now the discovery of an affair between her husband and her mother, June felt history repeating itself. Can her life get any worse than this? Then, she thought of her children. At least they were healthy and relatively happy. Nonetheless, she felt no escape from poverty and misery, from the Hell of a life her mother lived, and growing up in a house without a father and with little money. Suddenly, as if stuck in a Twilight Zone, some form of limbo, before falling to Hell, she felt like she was living her mother's life.

Fortunately, she was born with enough commonsense not to follow in the footsteps of her mother and to outwit any man, who tried taking advantage of her. The only thing she had to make money with was her above average intelligence, her good looks, and her hot body. That, she figured, was more than enough to improve her financial situation. Moreover, she figured that if she looked this good now, after having three kids and never having an extra dollar to properly take care of herself and groom herself, she couldn't imagine how good she'd look with some pampering. 

After digesting all that she saw between her husband and her mother, when she opened her bedroom door and saw her husband fucking her naked mother, and realizing this affair had been ongoing, she had an epiphany. She decided that she'd not only survive but also thrive. If the only way she knew how to make money now was to give men what they wanted sexually, then she'd do that. She'd prey on the weaknesses of men, and on those, who wanted to use her for sex. She'd play them for their money. It was a fair enough trade. Sex for money. With each getting what the other wanted, with the men wanting sex and she wanting money, the trade was a fair one. 

If prostitution was the only way she knew how to get herself out of poverty and misery and to make a better life for herself and her three kids, and to move somewhere else, away from this small town, then not only was she willing to do that but also she'd be the best damn prostitute that money can buy. After what she did with Larry and what she saw between her husband and her Mom, she was already past the point of moral modesty and shock. Her choice was clear and her mind was made up. Only, she realized by embracing the Devil, instead of climbing out of the hole she was in, she was digging it deeper. Nonetheless, she was a firm believer that sometimes she must go down to go up. 

Alone and desperate for money, June suddenly had no one to depend upon but herself. She needed money to hold onto her house. She needed money to shelter, feed, clothe, and pay for medical care for her children. Now, with her mother no longer there to help her babysit her three children, she needed money to pay for a babysitter while she made money and made love to men to make ends meet.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 04



Chapter 4

June has a late night, sexy date with Mr. X

In a fit of rage over catching her husband and mother together in bed, June vented her anger by smashing his picture against the wall. Then, she took out her anger on the vase that her mother had given them for their wedding gift ten years ago. As if a reminder of her life, the smashed pieces that scattered glass across the floor somehow made her feel better, now knowing what all she needed to fix that was broken.

She looked at the shattered glass, as she would her shattered life. She looked at the broken glass, as if it were puzzle pieces that once put back together would certainly show the cracks but would be whole again. Just as she was able to pick up the shards of glass, she was able to clean up and salvage her life. She may have a few cracks from putting her life back together but it was nothing she figured that she couldn't handle. Growing up in her mother's house, she's been through worse. 

She thought her world was over, when her husband and mother pulled out of her driveway and left her life. She thought she had hit bottom, when her husband lost his job, gave up and lost his desire to earn a living and made the decision to start drinking again. She thought she couldn't go any lower than she had, when she had no money to buy food and medicine for her children. She thought it was over when the bank threatened to foreclose on her house and put her and her kids out in the street. Now, having been shaken awake that she was the one who controlled her life and not her husband and/or her mother, she realized John's drinking and her mother's cheating were the best things that could ever have happen to her.

Her situation of woe had awakened the fighter in her. She wasn't going to allow her husband nor her mother to bring her and her children down, too. If they want to wallow together in the gutter, then they can do that without her. Not able to go any lower than she already has, there was no way but up for her. Larry, in his country bumpkin simplicity, had shown her the way to emerge whole again from her desperate situation.

She pulled the money she made that night from her purse and flattened it out on the kitchen table. She lined up the three one hundred dollar bills and a fifty, three hundred and fifty dollars, in front of her. This is what she made fucking and sucking off Larry. In a few short minutes, she made nearly as much as her husband made in a week. It was then that she realized she didn't need him anymore. It was then that she realized that she was alone and dependent upon herself to make ends meet. It was then that she decided to call Larry.

"Hello? Larry?"

"Hi, June. What's up? So be honest. C'mon, you can tell me. Did you like what I gave you the other night and want to come back for more?"

"Did I like what you gave me? You mean having skanky assed sex with your skinny body? I'd rather eat shit and die than to fuck and suck you, again," she said pausing in her anger to throw up a little in her mouth. "Trust me, sex with you will never happen again."

"I was that good, huh?" he said ignoring her. "No matter," he said with a cackle. "So anyway, speaking of you eating shit, June, I have a client who will pay you four figures to watch you eat his shit, so long as you swallow it."

"Gees, Larry, is there no end to this shit, no pun intended? Are your clients as fucked in the head as you are? So, let me guess. Who's your client, you?"

"Funny, June. You're a real comedian. No, I'm not that perverted," he said with a laugh. "But I can tell you stories that will make your pretty hair curl," he said with a laugh. "So, what do you want then? Why are you calling me? I figured, I'd never hear from you again."

"I need money, Larry, a lot of money. I want you to set me up with as many tricks as you can. Only, I don't want weirdoes and psychos. Go hire some trailer trash whores to do those dudes. I only want the respectable ones doing me, married men, who aren't happy in their sex lives with their prudish wives. And if you set me up with any creeps, I walk. I'll go work for someone else or I'll go into business for myself."

"Someone else? There's no one in this town supplying entertainment, but me. And there's no way you can do this all by yourself. You need a pimp to set up your appointments and to schedule your time. You need a pimp to protect you from the head cases." He laughed his usual Larry laugh. "You need me to make it all work, baby."

"Is that what you call it? Entertainment? Well, your show is not the only one in the sexual circus. There are plenty of others, who'd jump at getting my ass on their street corner for sex."

"Okay, okay, there's no reason to panic. I have some regulars, who I can call and who will treat you right, pay you well, and show you a good time," he said.

"That's just what I want for starters," she said with a laugh.

"For starters? What do you mean for starters?"

"I have some conditions."

"Conditions? What do you think this is a fucking union? Next you'll be asking me for benefits, perks, a contract, and retirement. Oh, no, June, Hell no. Larry doesn't work that way," he spoke of himself in the third person. "Larry is the one in charge, not you."

"About being in charge, I'm coming to that, Larry."

"I'm getting ready to hang up this phone, June, if you continue to disrespect me like this."

"Disrespect you? You don't know the meaning of the word, Larry. You disrespected yourself, when you sold yourself short by taking on the low end of the business and by hiring the trailer trash whores, who you kindly call prostitutes. They're nothing but lowlife, dirt bags. Besides, if you hang up on me, Larry, than you're even a dumber fuck than I thought you were. Now, listen to my proposal."

"Proposal?"

"Just shut the fuck up and listen."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I want a cell phone."

"Is that all? I can do that."

"I want a car."

"A car? No fucking way, June. I'm not buying you a car."

"And not a shit box either. I want dependable transportation, a new car. I saw your bankroll. You must have more than a hundred grand squirreled in your sock drawer. You can easily afford to buy me one or lease me one."

"I don't know about no car, June. I don't even have a new car."

"Larry, stop thinking small time. Start thinking big. Start dreaming. Think of this as a business. And think of a car for me as an investment for the future and an asset of your corporation."

"An asset of my corporation, I like that," he said with a laugh. "Okay, I'll think about it. What else is on your list?"

"I want health insurance for me and for my kids."

"Health insurance? I don't even have health insurance."

"Well, you should, especially someone in your business should someone break your leg or arm. And that's not all, Larry. I'm not done."

"What the fuck, June? You haven't even worked for me, yet, and you're making demands on my bankroll."

"You'll meet my demands Larry, and you'll have to buy two more bureaus to fit all the cash that I'll hand over to you to fill your sock drawers."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see. What else?"

"I need you to pay for a complete makeover, hair, skin, nails, makeup, perfume, and everything, the whole works. I need clothes, an entire wardrobe. I need to look nice, classy, but sexy nice. And I want a health club membership."

"A health club membership? What the fuck, June? I ain't no Rockefeller?"

"You put your cows to work to pay for what I need and I promise you won't regret it."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to earn, while I'm funding you. Don't think that you'll be going to the gym and working out, while I'm supporting. I want you on your back and supporting me."

"I can do that. I have to do that, Larry. I need money and I need to earn a living to save my house, but don't sell me short and don't sell me cheap. I want $500 an hour."

"Five hundred an hour?" He laughed. "Ain't nobody gonna pay you that kind of dough in this small, hick town."

"They will in the city."

"The city?" No doubt, something he hadn't even considered, Larry suddenly spoke with excited interest. "Okay, I'll agree to everything you ask, if you meet my one demand."

"What's that?"

"We get an apartment in the city together and act like a normal, married couple to maintain a respectable appearance."

"And what do I do with my three kids, Larry?"

"Not to live, but just to hangout, when we're in the city. The apartment will be our safe place to take a client, instead of paying for a hotel room and drawing attention to ourselves. Like everything else, we split the cost 50-50."

"Well, actually, that's the first good idea that you've mentioned. Only, with clients knowing where we live, what's to stop them coming up unannounced?

"The doorman. That's why we pay extra to live in a luxury place."

"Yeah, that's good. Okay, I'll agree to that, but no sex. Sex is only for paying customers," said June. "I'll only fuck and suck you again, if you pay me," she said with a laugh.

"Why should I pay for it when I get it for nothing with the other girls?"

"Those other scumbags, you mean? Go ahead, it's your cock," said June.

"It's a hole to stick it in. They serve a purpose," said Larry.

"Larry, if you want a high end escort service with call girls, instead of prostitutes and hookers, you have to start thinking like a high end businessman and not like a dumb ass," said June.

"Enough with the name calling, June. I can call names, too, you know," said Larry.

"Sorry, Larry. I'm just trying to help us make some money and you're not going to make any money, if you continue running down your business with trailer trash women with no teeth and no class."

"Okay, okay, but it's not easy to always find new talent, especially in this small town," he said.

"You're looking in the wrong places. Your problem is you think with your pecker and not with your head. After I get my feet wet, I'll help you with the interviewing process. Maybe, after I've been on my back for a while, I'll take over the girls, as their Madam, while you exclusively work on making new clients and setting appointments," said June. 

"Let's just concentrate on present business and not future business," said Larry. "When can you start?"

"Now."

"Seriously? Now?"

"Now."

"I'll call you right back."

Larry called June back within 15 minutes.

"I have a guy, Mr. X, coming from a couple towns over. Only, he's very particular about things."

"Mr. X? Particular? What do you mean particular?"

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 05



Chapter 5

Mr. X will pay extra for what he likes. What Mr. X wants, he gets. 

"Well, for starters, he likes shaved pussies and you have a bush. You have time to shave off your fur before he gets here. Also, he likes the young stuff. I'm thinking that maybe, if you put your hair in braids and wear something that looks like a school uniform, you know, a short skirt with a white blouse, maybe you can pass. Also, talk dumb and ditzy, like a dumb blonde and chew gum. He loves the helpless, dumb blonde type. He likes playing the protector, the smart guy, and the big man coming to the rescue."

"Not easy to play a dumb blonde, when I have brown hair," she said with a laugh. "Okay, is there anything else that I should know about Mr. X?"

"Yeah, there's one more thing. Bordering on acting, as if they love him, he likes his women to cum. Listen, I don't care if you fake it, but make it believable and loud. He'll pay extra big, if you give him a good show, one that makes him feel like he got you off. Enjoying having the image of a Don Juan, he has a thing about pleasing his woman, before she pleases him."

"Okay, I got it. I can do that," said June writing everything down, while thinking about all the times she faked an orgasm with her husband, just so he'd finally climb off of her and go to sleep.

"Oh, and, I almost forgot. There's just one more thing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Wear a lot of makeup. He's got a thing for blue eye shadow and he likes bright, red lipstick and Angelina Jolie lips. He has a thing about going home with lipstick on his dipstick."

"Lipstick on his dipstick? What's that?"

"Lipstick on his cock," said Larry shaking his head and laughing. "You have a lot to learn about this business, June."

"I'll bring a whole tube of lipstick to reddened his cock, if that's what it takes for him to part with more of his money."

"Good, but don't wear no perfume. He's allergic."

"Larry?"

"Yeah, June?"

"Being that this guy is so particular, being that this guy is looking for a specific woman, how much can I expect to make with this guy?"

"Well, here's the thing, June, if you give him everything he wants, we can make a thousand dollars, that's $500 each. That's not bad for an hour's work. And if you can do what I think you can do to make this guy and others pay more, there's a specialty sex market that I've always wanted to tap and develop."

"Specialty market? What do you mean specialty market?"

"Fetishes. You make the big bucks with special request sex and by satisfying specific fetishes," said Larry.

"What kind of requests?"

"Anything and everything goes," said Larry with a laugh. 

"Define anything and everything, Larry, because there are some things that June doesn't do," she said suddenly copying Larry's way of talking by talking in the third person.

"You really never know, until you're in bed with the guy and suddenly, he's handcuffing you to the bed, tickling you with a feather, worshiping your feet, just wanting to talk, or wanting to pee in your mouth," said Larry with a laugh.

"Gross. I'm telling you right now, Larry. I'd never let some sicko pee on me, never mind peeing in my mouth," said June.

"Most guys just want to get off, June. Most guys want to do to a prostitute what they can't do with their wives. As a way to ease you into the specialty market, there's a group of guys who come to the store every year to buy stuff for their little trip. They tell their wives they're going hunting and fishing for a week, which they do, but also they bring a hooker along with them for some relaxing fun, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I can only imagine their definition of relaxing fun," she said with a smug laugh. "I'm following you so far, Larry."

"Well, a guy I know a few towns over supplies them with the hooker for the week and she makes, are you ready?"

"Yeah, Larry, I'm sitting the fuck down waiting with baited breath for you to get the point."

"See, that's your problem June, you need to stroke a guy more to get him off. You just can't beat him over the head with a rolling pin. You need to make the man feel that he wears the pants and that he has the balls and not you. You need to--"

"Larry! Okay, okay. What the fuck? Spare me the sermon. Don't you tell me what my fuckin' problem is, Larry," she lost her patience with him. She hated stupid people and Larry was dumb, even when they were in school together, he could barely read. "You have no fucking idea what I've been through already to get my head wrapped around this sex for money game. A woman who's only been with one man, her husband, to suddenly suck and fuck the likes of you, before agreeing to prostitute herself, to some fuck wad, who calls himself Mr. X, either help me or--"

"Okay, okay, June. Calm down. What's the matter? What's wrong?"

"I kicked my old man out of the house for having sex with my mother."

"Wow! Your mother? That's heavy. Incest is still the best, baby," said Larry laughing. "Now, there's a story I'd love to read on Literotica, Me and My Mother Have Sex."

"Larry!"

"Okay, sorry, June."

"Yeah, thanks for your support but sorry gets me squat, I need money."

"Um, you know, June, now that I think about it, I was just wondering."

"What Larry? What depraved question must you ask me?"

"Well, I just thought I'd mention it, like daughter like mother, and all that genetically encoded stuff, but do you think your mother would be interested in the entertainment business. I have a couple clients who are older and want—"

"In the entertainment business? My mother prostituting herself for you? Fuck you, Larry. Fuck you."

"Okay, okay, don't blow a fuse. You can't blame a guy for trying."

Thinking about the monetary rewards of offering sex for money, there was a long silence, before June spoke again.

"So, you never told me. How much did that hooker make for doing those guys for a week?"

"Ten grand. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, ten thousand bucks, ten yards."

"No shit."

"That's what Sal told me but, then again, Sal tends to exaggerate, as to how much he makes and how much he doesn't make depending on who he's talking to, you know. If he's bragging to me, he's making a bundle. If he's talking to his ex-wives or an agent at the IRS, then he's destitute. Anyway, he said that these guys coughed up two grand each for the pleasure of having sex with this woman any time they wanted."

"That's fucked, Larry. I never knew about all this stuff. Now, I wonder if my husband was every with a prostitute."

"It's easy work, June. It's easy work to go for a cruise on a nice boat, while relaxing and working on your tan. All you have to do is to have sex with five men."

"A gangbang, Larry? I'm hardly broken in to do this type of work and you already want me to pull a train?"

"Well, I don't know if theyre into gangbangs and circle jerks, maybe they are, but most guys want one on one. Most guys like that want their privacy. The way that I figure, June, is that one goes below deck, while the others are up above. The way that I imagined it was them taking their turns with you, one at a time. Now, if they want someone for a gangbang, that's extra," said Larry with a chuckle.

"I don't see how that's easy work, Larry, servicing five men for a week. Yet, two grand each, huh, for any time they wanted sex? Maybe that's a lot of money for you, but it doesn't sound like it's enough money to do 5 dudes for a week."

"Ten grand is more money that I'd make in a--"

"I'd want twenty, Larry. Yeah, I'd want them to pay me twenty thousand to put out for five men over a week."

"Twenty? See, that's what I like about you, June."

"What's that?"

You're my Catherine Deneuve and my Angelina Jolie of hookers."

"I'm not a hooker or a prostitute, Larry. I'm a call girl. There's a big difference between the three," said June.

"Got it," said Larry. "That's the thing about you, June. You have the class that guys want and that men will pay extra to get.

"Instead of talking, Larry. I need to get ready. I'll see you soon."

June jumped in the shower, washed her hair, shaved her legs, and shaved the hair from around her vagina. She dug through her closet to find a short skirt that resembled the parochial school uniform she used to wear in high school. She found a tartan skirt, one that she just needed to raise the hem from just above the knee to mid-thigh.

She took extra care to go heavy on the makeup without making her face look too much like a Halloween mask. Once she finished applying lots of blue eye shadow and a heavy coat of bright, red lipstick, she more looked like a movie star or, at least, a Broadway stage performer.

"If Mr. X wants lipstick on his dipstick, then he shall have a red ring the length and circumference of his penis," she said with a laugh, while looking at herself in the mirror.

She found a tight white button blouse. The cut, fit, and design of the blouse highlighted her bust more than her other blouses and when worn with the top few buttons unbuttoned together with a pushup bra, the combination made her tits look bigger and fuller and her line of cleavage deeper. Not that she had small tits or needed any help with a pushup bra to make her tits look bigger, she had a full C cup. She chose a white thong that made her ass cheeks look deliciously edible and that barely covered her freshly shaved pussy. Had she not shaved her pussy, she'd have pubic hair sticking out of both sides of her underwear.

Deciding to abandon the pushup bra because it was too tight, she found her front snapping bra, the one that she wore with her bride maid's gown, when her best friend Becky got married. The front snapper gave her cleavage like those women in 18th century England who wore corsets. She figured that a front snapping bra that didn't have straps was so much more convenient than wearing one that she had to remove her blouse and bra to reveal her tits. This way with two snaps, they were out and ready to play and with two snaps she was dressed.

She combed back her hair, parted it, and tied the back ends of it with hair ties in two ponytails. Between her outfit, makeup, and ponytails, she looked ten years younger. All she needed was some bubblegum, which she borrowed a pack of Bazooka bubblegum from her daughter's dresser drawer.

The last thing she put on were her red, high heel shoes, the ones with the 3" heels and the ones that made her calves look great. At 6' tall with her heels, she felt so tall. With high heels, short skirt with thong underneath, shaved pussy, unbuttoned blouse, and front snapping bra, she felt so sexy. Instead of on her way to have paid sex with someone calling himself Mr. X, she felt as if she was going to a masquerade ball. Although she felt a bit ridiculous wearing these clothes and making up herself like this, she enjoyed the role playing. Had she not married and had children, wanting to be an actress, she had the looks and the intelligence to be a big movie star. Turning side to side, she looked at herself in the mirror. In her bias opinion, she thought she looked good. In reality, she looked like a cheap whore.

Even after having three children, her legs were still shapely and her body still sexy. Her flared skirt was so short that she showed a lot of thigh, nearly all the way up to her ass cheeks with her every movement, especially when climbing stairs. Her tits looked incredible, big and high up. Any man would pay big bucks to fuck and suck her tits. It was then that she realized the extent of special, sexual requests. This part of it, when clients ask for special requests, was more than just having sex. This was fun. She almost felt like an actress acting a role in a movie, albeit a porn movie, than she did a call girl.

It was such a small town that she didn't want to take a cab to Larry's house for fear that the cab driver, once chatting over a cup of Joe with the regulars at the local coffee shop, would gossip about her. Telling everyone what she was wearing and where he took her, they all knew that Larry was the town pimp. Not the big city where everyone is too busy with their business to mind your business, this was small town USA after all. Even though what she did and with whom she did it with was none of anyone's damn business, but her own, it became everyone's business, when residents passed their time sitting out on their front porches gossiping. Yet, afraid to run into someone she knew and unable to take a bus wearing this abbreviated, erotic outfit for the same reason as not being able to take a cab, she called Larry.

"Hi Larry."

"June! Where are you? Mr. X is on his way. He'll be here any minute."

"Mr. X? You make him sound so mysterious like he's a spy or a science fiction character."

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 06



Chapter 6

The late, great Michael Clarke Duncan was small compared to Mr. X

"Well, yeah, Mr. X is what he refers to himself as, so I'm not about to ask him for his real name or for an ID just to have sex with you. Anyway, I need you to get over here fifteen minutes ago. He'll be here any minute."

"I need a ride, Larry."

"A ride? Do I look like your chauffeur? Take a fucking cab or the bus, just get here now."

"I can't take a fucking cab or the bus, Larry. With what I'm wearing, this short skirt, white blouse, red high heels, and with my hair parted and tied in pigtails, I look like a God damn teenager turned hooker. Did you forget we live in a small town? In the way that I look wearing all this makeup and with my lips covered with red lipstick, taking a cab or a bus is out of the question. People know who I am. People will talk. Now, if you were to buy me that car that we discussed then—"

"A car? Fuck you, June. I'm not buying you any car," said Larry raising his voice in the phone."

"Never mind then. I just won't go," said June. "I'll stay home."

"Won't go? Stay home? Wait. Hold on. You have to come," said Larry with a long pause. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving now to pick you up and you'd better be standing out front waiting for me."

"Thanks, Larry."

June watched for Larry through her hall window. She stepped out on her front porch when she saw his car come speeding down her street.

"Wow," he yelled out his window when she walked up to his car. "You look hot. You certainly look the part. Mr. X is going to like you, especially in that short skirt and unbuttoned blouse," he said reaching out his hand to grab a handful of her breast through her bra.

"Thank you, Larry," she said slapping his hand away. She walked around his car to get in on the other side and spread her legs wide to get in his car. "I feel so exposed," she said with a laugh.

With her skirt nearly up to her crotch, when she sat, Larry reached over to grab a feel of her shapely, naked thigh.

"Did you shave your pussy?" He looked at her when she didn't answer. Then, he moved his right hand between her legs as he drove with his left hand. "Lemme see," he said coaxing her with his hand to lift her short skirt and move her panty. "Show me your pussy, June."

"Mind your manners, Larry," she said slapping his hand away as if she was his mother and he was reaching for food before saying grace. "Baby soft, my smooth as silk pussy is for paying customers only and not for you."

"Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget to shave off your fur. You had quite the bush on you before. I really need this guy to be a repeat customer. The last thing I want to do is to piss him off by you not shaving your beaver. I don't want to lose him. He's a big paying customer."

"We're covered, Larry. You just worry about driving me to Mr. X and I'll take care of the rest," said June. "That is, unless you'd like to suck his cock yourself."

"I'm all man, June. I don't do guys," said Larry shooting her a look.

Instead of being nervous about having sex for money with a stranger, she was more concerned about her kids and her little life. She had four hours before she had to pick up her kids at her cousin's house, the next town over. The money she made tonight allowed her to arrange for her cousin, Sally, to babysit the kids, whenever she needed. It was a sweet arrangement so long as it continued and so long as she prostituted herself for money. Sally didn't have skills enough to get a job that paid what June was willing to pay her an hour to sit with her kids. Besides, the kids loved going to her house because she had a cat, a dog, a horse, and two ducks.

"You never told me what this Mr. X looks like, Larry." June looked at him while watching his face for any clues to his lies.

"Um, looks like? I didn't? I thought I did." He looked at her. "Well, do you know that Michael Clarke Duncan dude, the actor that played in the Green Mile and who just died recently, he's tall and, oh shit, he's here now."

Mr. X pulled up front just as Larry pulled in his driveway. He let June out and she went in through the back, so as not to be seen prematurely and spoil Mr. X's surprise.

Imported from Detroit, he had a fancy car. A shiny Chrysler 300 SRT8 with the 6.1 liter 425hp Hemi engine stroked and massaged to over 500hp, his car had every factory option, including some that were custom installed, such as gull wing doors. Instead of chrome trim, he had gold trim with 20" gold plated wheels and grille, blacked out windows, and a custom gold and black paint job that made the car look more like a Bentley Continental than a Chrysler.

Wishing she could just leave her life behind, she wished she could go for a long ride with Mr. X. Instead of his doors opening out in the way of a normal car, they opened up like one of those expensive, imported, Italian sports cars, a Lamborghini Countach. She remembered her husband telling her about the supercar and showing her one at the auto show that they attended a lifetime ago before they were married and when they were happy. 

When he stood out of the car, she couldn't believe her eyes. She didn't so mind that he was a black man but she had never seen a man as big. A massive man, he was enormous. Bald, black, and built, he was beautiful. Either his car was low, very low, to the ground or he was a giant. She figured the latter was more the truth than the former, especially when she saw him standing next to Larry. He dwarfed him. Easily, he was a foot taller than Larry and weighed more than twice as much. Mr. X was one big, black, beautiful man.

Standing about 6'8" tall, Mr. X was tall alright. Larry failed to tell June that Mr. X was a black man. Being that his God given name was Malcolm, Mr. X was his aptly given nickname and the name he was known by to his friends, family, and employees. June peeked out Larry's window as Mr. X emerged from his automobile. Just as she had never seen a car such as this before, she had never seen a man as big. His car was beautiful and he was magnificent.

Having never been with a black man before, a faithful wife and only having sex with her husband, and recently with Larry, she didn't know how she'd feel about having sex with a black man. Without doubt, she was curious. Without doubt, she was attracted to him. A man so big and powerfully built, swallowing her body whole, she'd feel so safe in his arms.

She wondered what his cock looked like. She wondered if his cock was as proportional in size to his height. Her husband had an average cock and Larry's prick was even smaller. She imagined, in the way that he and his car were bigger than life, that his cock would be too.

"Hi, Mr. X, nice to see you again." Larry shook his hand. "Nice car, Mr. X. Is it new?" Larry walked around the car as if he was a potential buyer at a custom, Chrysler dealership. "Do you think that I could take it for a spin around the block?"

"No, Larry," he said with a big, wide, white smile. "No one drives my car," in his deep baritone voice.

She watched the verbal exchange noticing that Larry looked as nervous as he looked ridiculously small standing next to him. When he shook his hand, Larry's hand disappeared in the meaty mitt of Mr. X as if Malcolm was wearing a catcher's mitt.

"So, how you doin', Larry? I caught a quick glimpse of that special someone you got for me when that pretty, young thing ran inside your house from around back," said Mr. X pointing to Larry's house.

"I promised you something special, Mr. X, and I know you won't be disappointed. Matter of fact, Tiffany is my new girl that I recruited just for you. She's special, if you know what I mean," said Larry winking.

Apparently, after seeing how good June looked, Larry felt the need to give her a proper call girl name that equaled her hot appearance. Only, having just thought of the name, he didn't think to tell June her new name was Tiffany.

"Is that right? Tiffany," he looked at Larry with suspicion. "That names sound too delicate for me. With me being so big, I don't want to break her," he said with a booming laugh. "That name evokes an expensive crystal chandelier or a fine piece of jewelry from Tiffany's."

Not your average bear, Mr. X was born in Detroit and educated in Michigan. Thinking that he was a retired basketball or football player, no one would believe that he graduated from the University of Michigan top of his class with honors. After acing the college boards, prouder of earning a four year college scholarship more for his intelligence than for his athletic abilities, he was chosen for their basketball and football programs but declined both their offers. Seeing the bigger picture and perhaps a bit snobbish in his preference of education over sports, the president of the university was more pleased to see an underprivileged black man earn a quality education than wasting his life and intellectual talents playing sports.

"Yes, sir, Mr. X. That's her name. Only someone as beautiful and sexy should have such a name. C'mon inside and I'll introduce you to Tiffany," he said stopping to look at the car again. "I can pull your car in my driveway for you, Mr. X," said Larry holding out his hands for the car keys.

"You live on a dead end street, Larry, and I haven't seen a car drive down here," said Mr. X looking around the neighborhood. "With all the security devices I've installed on that car along with my own personal security that I carry around with me," he said opening his jacket to flash Larry the butt end of a pearl handled gun. "I'm sure my car will be fine where it is."

"Wow! That's a big gun, Mr. X. What is that a 44, a 45? May I see it?"

"No, Larry. Just as you can't drive my car, you can't see my gun. Licensed to carry a concealed weapon, I never pull my gun unless I'm gonna use it or clean it," he said giving Larry a deadly stare.

"Let's go inside the house, Mr. X," said Larry.

"Oh, my God," said June out loud while watching Mr. X standing outside with Larry. "Definitely, for someone so big, he must have a huge cock. This guy will split me in half. I don't think I could get my mouth around him if his cock mirrors the size of him."

She watched from the window as Mr. X followed Larry up the front porch steps and onto the porch. She heard the wooden steps groan from the enormous weight of him. Suddenly, remembering Larry's description and reference, Michael Clarke Duncan from the movie, The Green Mile, came to mind again, only this man was bigger and better looking. She remembered her husband telling her that, by using special boots and camera angles, they made Michael Clarke Duncan appear much bigger than his 6'4 ½, 260 pound frame in the movie.

Heavier when he died, ballooning up to 300 pounds, this Mr. X guy was at least 6'8" and had to weigh over 300 pounds. Yet with him being so tall, he didn't look fat, just built. He had muscles everywhere. His neck and his arms appeared bigger than her waist. What the Hell would Larry do to protect her should this guy get out of hand?

"After you, Mr. X," said Larry holding the screen door for his most special customer.

Mr. X's face lit up when he spotted June standing in the middle of the living room smiling.

"Tiffany, this is Mr. X," said Larry giving June a wink and the thumbs up sign. "Mr. X, this is Tiffany."

"Nice to meet you," said June shooting Larry a look while staring up and shaking Mr. X's hand. "My name is June and not Tiffany," she said glaring at Larry. Larry sometimes confuses me with another one of his girls. He has so many women working for him," she said even though she knew she was his one and only prostitute.

"It's my pleasure to meet you, June. Everything that Larry said you are, you are so very beautiful," he said twirling her around by her fingertips. "My mother's name was June."

"Really?"

"Yes, it was. Normally, people name a baby girl June if she's born in June, but my Granddaddy loved the summertime and hated the winter. With June born in the dead of winter, he'd be damned if he was going to name his daughter January," said Mr. X laughing out loud with a thunderous roar.

June and Larry laughed with Mr. X too.

"Well, I was born in June, Mr. X. Matter of fact, I was born on Flag Day, June 14th."

"Please call me Malcolm."

"Okay, Malcolm, shall we get down to business," said Larry.

"Not you, Larry. You can continue calling me Mr. X." He gave Larry a look that could remove wallpaper. "I only invited the lady to call me Malcolm."

"Yes, sir, sorry, of course, Mr. X," said Larry rubbing his hands together as if he was a fly finding food. "What do you have in mind for tonight?"

"Well," he said looking from Larry to June, "I have a good feeling about this woman. I like you, June. Matter of fact, I've never been in such a good mood as I am now."

"Thank you, Malcolm," said June beaming a smile.

"This woman is so much better than the fat, ugly, toothless whores you've been trying to peddle me," he said turning to give Larry another mean stare.

"Yeah, well, you know, Mr. X—"

Without even acknowledging him with a look, Mr. X looked held up a hand that was bigger than his whole head in front of his face.

"You interrupted my thought process little man. I wasn't done talking."

"I'm sorry, Mr. X. I apologize for interrupting you. Please continue with your thought process."

"After meeting June, tonight is a very special occasion, very special, indeed," he said again looking at June from head to toe before wrapping a big arm around her waist. "I'd like to take this lady for a trip around the world." With that, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of money and deposited it in Larry's hand.

As if the head teller at a bank, Larry quickly counted the stack of hundred dollar bills. He counted it again to make sure of the amount. Then, he held the money up to the light to make sure it was real until Mr. X shot him a look.

"There's, um, one thousand, two thousand, $2,500 here, Mr. X," said Larry giving it a quick count again to make sure. Mr. X had already turned away and was walking off with June. "Do you want fries with that?" Asked Larry under his breath while watching June and Mr. X disappear in the bedroom together.

"When I told Larry to get me someone special," he said sitting on the bed, "I never thought he'd find someone as fine as you. You're special," he said. "Someone who looks as good as you do should be making movies instead of sucking cock."

"Well, thank you, Malcolm."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, you're paying me to do whatever you want. I can certainly answer a question."

"Why do you do this? Why do you prostitute yourself?"

"Actually, I just started and aside from being forced to have sex with Larry, you're my first customer." June sat beside him on the bed. "My husband, after turning to the bottle, lost more than his job a while back. He lost his will to work and to provide for his family. I do this to keep a roof over me and my three kids' heads."

"And your husband, what does he think about you sleeping with other men."

"My husband? I threw his ass out after I caught him in bed naked with my Mom."

"Damn, I read stories about dudes into fucking their mothers and mothers on Literotica. Unless your mother looks as good as you do, that's nasty for husband to have sex with his mother-in-law.

"What about you? Why do you do it? Why do you have sex with prostitutes?"

"It's easier and uncomplicated. There's no love, just sex. My wife won't give me sex anymore, hasn't for years. Don't get me wrong. She loves me and I love her. We've been together since we were kids, but she's lost that lovin' feelin' when she developed a low opinion of herself. She's depressed. All she does is sit around the house and eat. She's eating herself to death is what she's doing," he said with sadness.

"Has she been to a doctor, a nutritionist, or a personal trainer? It may be something as simple as hormone replacement, a special diet, and/or an exercise program."

"Doctor? Nutritionist? Personal Trainer? Lucille doesn't believe in any of that. She never leaves the house. All of her problems are due to her weight. She's very heavy. If she needs anything, she needs a psychiatrist to unravel all that's wrong with her but she won't go see one." He took a big sigh.

"What do you think happened to her to make her like that?" June looked at him with kindness.

"Oh, I know what happened to her," said Malcolm with a booming voice. "She was raped, gangbanged, when she was young, when we were first married. She was a very beautiful woman and when she was raped, she didn't want to be beautiful no more, so she ate. Fat or skinny, I still loved my Lucille."

"We all have a story to tell, I guess, Malcolm."

"Yeah, well, some of us no longer have a story to tell. I found the motherfuckers who raped my Lucille and who caused her such misery and me such pain." She watched Malcolm make an angry face and slow, white knuckled fist. "Trust me, those niggars won't be rapin' anyone no more or tellin' stories about what they did to this one and to that one. I fixed them all and I fixed them for good."

"That's good, albeit a bit scary, Malcolm," she said pausing. "Like you do, I believe in an eye for an eye too." June looked at the diamond rings he wore, the fat gold bracelet that barely fit around his big wrist, and the thick, shiny gold chain that hung from his huge neck. "Just curious, if you don't mind my asking, with all your bling, what do you do for a living?"

"Normally, not wanting to give away my identity, as if I'd be hard to find," he said with a big laugh. "I'd never tell a woman of the night my business, but I trust you and I like you, June. I own a car accessory store. We sell wheels and custom stuff. If ever you need something for your car, come see me. I'll take care of you," he said smiling handing her a business card. 

"I don't even own a car and Larry won't buy me one to get around," she said with sadness.

"I thought everyone in America own at least one car," he said giving her a curious stare. "I love cars. Cars are my passion."

"That explains your car. I love your car, especially those doors. I'd love to go for a ride in it with you."

"You would?"

"Oh, yeah, I'd love to go for a ride in your car."

He looked at her and smiled.

"What d'ya say we get outta here and buy us some food. I'm hungry. I'm always hungry," he said with a big laugh and putting his hands on his knees to push himself up from the bed.

"Sure, that'd be fun."

"Only, I don't think you can go into some of the fine eating establishments that I frequent dressed like that," he said laughing. "We'll have to do takeout and eat in the car, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, I do look a bit ridiculous, don't I?"

"Actually, to me, you look exactly the way I'd want my woman to look."

"Well, thank you again, Malcolm. I really like you."

"And I like you too, June."

June and Malcolm emerged from the bedroom. 

"That's it? You're done? Gees, that was fast. Didn't I tell you she was good, Malcolm, sorry, I mean, Mr. X? Hey, where are you going?"

"For a ride," said June. "I'll see ya later, Larry."

Once June was outside, Malcolm turned around and stepped inside to confront Larry.

"You touch her again and I'll kill you," he said screwing a big, stiff, index finger in his chest as if it was the barrel of his gun. "You dig?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll never touch her again," said Larry taking a step back from the big man.

To be continued... 



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 07



Malcolm eased the big Chrysler off Larry's street and continued west until he hit the entrance ramp to the highway. Driving faster than everyone else around him, his idea of merging with traffic was to launch his car off the on ramp as if his big Chrysler was a race car reentering the track on the restart of race. When he planted his size 16 shoe on the gas pedal, with a roar, a howl, a shake, and a shudder, the car zoomed forward turning from a sedate luxury cruiser to a powerful muscle car. The torque from the big engine pushed and pinned June back in her seat until Malcolm hit a cruising speed of 100 mph. Never had she experienced such a feeling of excited exhilaration since the time she rode the big rollercoaster at the county fair.

Inspired by the speed and Hemi power of Malcolm's car, she imagined him picking her up in his big arms and carrying her to bed. She imagined him feeling her breasts through her blouse and bra and feeling her ass through her skirt and panty before undressing her and stripping off her clothes. Taking his time to arouse her and to seduce her, instead of understanding that she was a call girl with her John, she imagined him being her big, bad boy lover.

Taking his sweet time to unbutton her blouse, she imagined him feeling her tits and fingering her nipples through her bra. She imagined his big, black hand going up her short tartan skirt and his big, thick fingers pushing aside her white, thong panty to rub and tickle her clit before penetrating her pussy. Unsnapping her front snapping bra as if her breasts were his surprise gift, she imagined him staring at her C cup tits before reaching out his enormous hands to touch them, feel them, caress them, and suck them. Arousing herself with her own imagination, she couldn't wait until he stripped her naked.

Her sexual fantasy of being stripped naked and being taken by such a powerful man made her knees weak with sexual anticipation. She felt the same rush thinking about him making love to her as she did when he floored the accelerator. With all the weight of his big, black, beautiful, naked body pushing her down and pinning her into the mattress, she imagined him having his wicked way with her naked body and forcing her to do dirty and nasty things that she'd never do to another man.

'Fuck me, Malcolm, stick that big, hard, black cock in my warm, wet pussy,' she imagined saying as he drove in silence. 

She wondered what it would be like to have sex with a man so big, so strong, and so powerful when he pounded her pussy and parted her clam with the long, hard thrusts of his big muscled hips. With mixed emotions of nervousness and excitement, imagining giving reversed birth to a baby, she imagined his supersized cock parting her shaved, pussy lips and penetrating her cunt deeper than any man has gone before. Sitting beside the best and not wanting to fuck any of the rest, she imagined she was about to get the fucking of her life.

She wondered what it would be like to take his big, black prick past her red, full lips. She imagined sucking him and taking him deeper in her mouth and all the way down her throat in an attempt to deep throat him. She imagined his warm, oozy cum splashing up against the back of her mouth. Between his big cock and his load of cum nearly gagging her, she imagined being proud that she could sexually satisfy such a man. She wondered how many other women have had the erotic pleasure and sexual satisfaction of bedding such a supersized man. Before even having sex with him, never has she had such sexual thoughts of erotic excitement about a man before.

As if she was sitting on a giant vibrator, the rumble of the car's exhaust penetrated the car seat and tickled her between her legs. She ran her fingers along the stitching detail of the fancy interior as if she was running her fingers along the length of his cock. The safety and security of being with Malcolm made her swoon in his company and she rested her head against the headrest hoping that he'd stop the car soon and kiss her, touch her, feel her, and make love to her. Never has she wanted to suck anyone's cock in the way she wanted to blow Malcolm now.

What a man? What a man? He was such an incredible man. Feeling as if he was her super He-Man, never has she felt as protected with her husband, John, as she did with Malcolm. John was just a little taller than average, but Malcolm was a giant. Glad they were sitting down in his car, he was so tall that, even with her 5'9" height, she had a stiff neck gazing up at him when standing.

Where before, she felt dirty and as if she was doing something wrong when Larry asked her to be his prostitute, now she felt wickedly hot. Feeling wanted, feeling desired, and feeling sexy, never has she felt so much like a woman when in the company of such a man. He made her feel feminine. He made her feel special. He made her feel alive with sexual excitement.

He was a real man, a manly man, a macho man, and a man who'd take care of her no matter what. Instead of her making all the decisions and doing all the worrying, as she's done her whole marriage, she liked the feeling that she could relinquish the control finally to someone stronger and smarter while trusting that he wouldn't make mistakes and fuck it all up. Even if it meant having sex with him, she exhaled a big sigh of relief and relaxed. Especially if it meant having sex with him, she exhaled an excited smile. Only she knew her joy wouldn't last and tomorrow he'd be gone and she'd be back to her little life with her three kids and with Larry pimping her out to someone else.

"I love your car, Malcolm. Big, black, and powerful, it's so you," she said looking at him with stars in her eyes in the way she'd look at a celebrity, if meeting one in person, and in the way she thought he'd be looking at her.

"Thank you," he said more ready to talk about his car than about having sex with her. "I have a new car on order, a Cadillac CTS-V."

"I never heard of that model."

"A two door coupe instead of a four door sedan, it does everything that this car does only it accelerates faster, stops quicker, and turns better. Think of it as a Corvette with a Cadillac body," he said with a chuckle. "I'm a sucker for big, heavy American cars. I love the safety of them, the spacious interiors, and the power they have."

"I can't imagine a car better than this car," said June running her hand over the seat. "I love this car. It's beautiful."

They whizzed past hotel after hotel and motel after motel. With the approach of each motor inn, wondering where he was going and when he was going to stop, she imagined stopping at this one or at that one and doing whatever was his sexual pleasure. Nervous before meeting him, frightened if only by his name, Mr. X and by the sheer size of him, she'd do anything Malcolm asked of her now. She liked him. She really did.

She enjoyed being in his company. He made her feel so safe. Instead of stopping, he drove her a few towns over to a favorite takeout chicken place he knew not far from where he lived. Oxymoronic in his liking for chicken, an educated, wealthy, black man, who could afford any fancy restaurant and navigate any French or Italian menu, he still saved a special fondness for the comfort food of his youth.

"I hope you like fried chicken because if you do, you're in for a treat."

"Who doesn't like fried chicken? With three kids to feed and a healthy serving of protein, it's a cheap staple in my house," she said with a laugh as he parked his car in front of the restaurant. "Do you trust me to order for you?"

"Sure," she said more interested in sucking his hard cock than in eating a crispy thigh.

He left her sitting in the car while he walked to the stand, ordered the food, and brought it back to the car to eat. He was already munching on a piece of chicken as he approached the car and handed her the bag of food.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait. I'm hungry," he said with a big laugh.

"I can't say that I blame you. It smells so good."

As if he was holding a petite appetizer, the drumstick looked so tiny in his big hand. After watching Malcolm eat, she suspected that food was a sexual experience for him. If he devoured her in the way he devoured his chicken, watching him suck on the bone in the way that she couldn't wait to suck on his boner, she'd be a happy woman.

"Whenever I think about sex, I become hungry and whenever I'm hungry I think of fried chicken," he said with a laugh. "My Mama made the best fried chicken, but this place, Flossie's Fried Chicken, is a close second. The batter is so tasty and sweet on the outside and the chicken is so moist and tender on the inside. The combination of the two textures and flavors make me want to eat more. Even when I'm done, I crave it in the way that I crave Chinese food."

June suspected that once Malcolm finished eating his food that he'd be thinking more about sex and about eating her than about eating chicken. With his belly full of chicken, she assumed his cock would be hungry for her. Discovering more about the man from just this brief repartee that revealed his preferences, if only for food, sex, and cars, seemingly, sex, food, and cars, not necessarily in that order, were his deliciously decadent pleasures and unified in his mind.

She could tell by the size of the big bulge in his pants that he was as horny as he was hungry. Kinky in a way, she was glad that he was unable to separate the two appetites. She imagined herself in bed and her naked body covered with fried chicken. She imagined him eating his food while devouring her body.

Instead of eating there in a public parking lot with other people sitting in their cars enjoying their takeout food, he drove to a secluded spot he knew. At that point, with no motels and hotels in sight, she figured they'd be having sex in the car. Kinky. She hasn't had sex in a car since Drive-in movie night with her husband so very many years ago. Once parked at the private place, Malcolm invited June to join him in the backseat.

"Why don't we get more comfortable back here. With the seat all the way up, I can stretch out my legs," he said unbuckling belt and unbuttoning his pants to get more comfortable.

She had assumed correctly and figured with him unbuckling his pants that this was it and that they were about to have sex in the backseat. Maybe his thing was to combine his loves, fast, powerful, luxury cars, fried chicken, and sex with a call girl. Suspecting his car was his sexual phallic symbol, as if he needed to have one, she figured his car was more than a sex symbol for him but a rolling motel bed. Only, now, she wished he had a roomy RV than a cramped Chrysler.

Maybe she'd have more room if he stuck his long legs out the passenger side window while she leaned over him and sucked his cock but that would be a strange sight to see. Maybe he could stand outside the car, while she sat inside the car and blew him. Nonetheless, she was ready to give him pleasure and to satisfy his every sexual need, whatever it may be. She wanted to keep him as a client and that meant sexually satisfying him for him to return.

Not since her husband, John, had his way with her at the Drive-in movie so long ago, before children, mortgage payments, unemployment, and drunkenness, had she contemplated having sex in the backseat of a car. Back then, he had an old beat up, '70 Mach 1 Mustang that had a backseat more cramped than the front seat and she swore never again. At least the Chrysler had a lot more room than the Mustang but with Malcolm's big body taking up most of the interior, the not enough space inside was just as tight. Wondering how on Earth he could be comfortable enough to have sex, she remembered she had a leg cramp that wouldn't subside for fifteen minutes. Her leg was sore for hours.

Having sex in the car was for young couples who had nowhere else to go. Now, even though he had options and could afford a motel or hotel room, the thought of having sex in the car sexually excited her. Again, she felt dangerously wicked having sex in public. She felt sexy. She felt wanted. She was aroused and she was eager to please him.

"Without the steering wheel and the console in the way, there's more room to spread out in back," he said. She sensed his nervousness. That was cute that she made such a big man nervous. "See?" He reached around the seat to push the power seat button that moved the seat. "Especially with the front seats moved all the way forward, there's more legroom and I like having lots of legroom," he said stretching out his long legs.

"That fried chicken was good, Malcolm, nearly as good as my fried chicken," she said wiping the last bit of grease from her lips and fingers.

"Oh, yeah?" He looked at her and smiled. "Then, you'll have to invite me over to dinner some time and make me some."

"I'd love to do have you over some time, so long as you don't mind eating with three kids."

"I love kids."

"Do you have any kids, Malcolm?"

"No. Lucille had a few miscarriages. She has a lot of health problems because of her weight, the usual things, high blood pressure and diabetes. I told her that she's going to die unless she slims down some." He rubbed his big stomach. "Me? I'm lucky. Because I get plenty of exercise riding my bike and pumping my iron, my metabolism works overtime. I'm as healthy as a horse."

"I'm sorry to hear Lucille's not able to have children. You'd make a good father."

"I would. I wish I had a son or two, even a daughter would be nice. I donate my time and money to some of the youth groups in the neighborhood. We have a football and a basketball team that I coach. Too many kids don't have a father figure to look up to and many of their mothers are children themselves. They look up to me and even though I find that rewarding, I'm pressured to show them the right example."

"You're a good man, Malcolm," said June while wondering when he was going to kiss and touch her or if he wanted her to kiss and touch him first.

"Even though many of their single moms literally throw themselves at me, I can't imagine their disappointment in me if they knew that I frequented prostitutes. Besides, different than having sex with a prostitute, I'd never cheat on Lucille with one of the women from my neighborhood. She be devastated."

He fell silent again while eating and June sense something was wrong.

"You're so quiet. What's wrong, Malcolm?"

"Oh, nothing," he said falling quiet again while eating his chicken and longingly looking out his car window. "I was just thinking that if Lucille hadn't been gangbanged maybe I'd be sitting here with her instead of with you." He looked at her, as if he had just insulted her. "No offense."

"None taken," said June. "I understand. I feel the same way about my husband. He's not the same man that I fell in love with and married. He's someone else, someone different, and someone that I've grown to despise. I still can't believe he fucked my mother. I still can't believe my mother sucked his cock. Both of them deserve one another."

"I guess we have that in common," he said with sadness. "Just as you miss your the man that you married, I miss the woman that I married and the woman that I still love." As if he was remembering the good times, he stopped talking, no doubt, when he started recalling the bad times. "We used to have so much fun walking while talking. Talking about everything and laughing over nothing, she gave me memories that I'll never forget."

"There's help out there for her, Malcolm, especially for someone with your money," said June looking at him with understanding. She paused while wondering if she knew him well enough to ask the next question. "How big is she?"

"She's big. Like me, she's always been a big, boned woman, 6' tall with double D breasts but not as big as she is now. With her being so depressed, I don't remember the last time she laughed. I wish I could get her to see someone and talk to someone but, content to eat herself to death, she won't go."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," said June. 

She remembered Larry telling her about guys like Malcolm, content to just sit and talk instead of wanting to have sex. Yet, she never pegged him for one of those men. She figured he was a wild, sexual animal and not much of a talker. Nonetheless, being that she was being paid for her time, as if he was her patient and she was his therapist, she'd listen to whatever he had to say.

"I'm full, Malcolm. Here," she said pushing the tray of chicken towards him. "You eat the rest." Having an ulterior motive, she was hoping that if she seduced his appetite with food, he'd be hungry for sex.

"Fried chicken is my favorite," he said reaching for another piece. As if he was munching on a Chinese fortune cookie instead of a chicken drumstick, the chicken looked so ridiculously small in his big hand. "Most of my friends love barbeque or that sushi shit, but I could eat fried chicken every day, all day, and not get tired it. If ever I was on death row and asked what I wanted for my last meal, I'd tell them fried chicken," he said with a laugh.

The food seemed to have a narcotic effect on him and instead of becoming horny, he grew silent while pondering his thoughts over another drumstick.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said as she rubbed his massively muscular thigh.

"I was just wondering why I love fried chicken so much," he said waving a clean drumstick bone in his hand. "I think my love for chicken stems from my childhood. I grew up poor and my parents had 5 children to feed. Probably because chicken was so cheap back then, the only time I got enough food was when my Momma made fried chicken." He laughed. "She made three heaping plates of it. While my sister fought over vegetables after my Daddy had his fill, I'd be fighting my three brothers for the extra pieces of chicken." He laughed again. "With my brothers nearly as big as me, there weren't any leftovers at our house."

"Wow, I can't imagine your brothers as big as you."

"You can say that I come from a big family literally and figuratively," he said with a chuckle. "You won't find any of us driving one of those little, foreign cars, that's for sure."

It was apparent from the conversation that they liked one another and, instead of becoming lovers, they were quickly becoming friends. As soon as June finished eating, she put down her soft drink, pulled out lipstick from her purse, and thickly reapplied her lips. She tried finding her open purse in the dark car to tuck away her lipstick, but missed.

"Shit, I dropped my lipstick somewhere between the seat cushion," she said daintily sticking her manicured nails between the top and bottom cushion.

"Don't worry about it, I'll find it for you later. These seats fold down; it's probably in the trunk."

She reached her finger over to Malcolm's ear and started seductively playing with it, touching his ear lopes, circling his ear with her index finger, and sticking her finger inside his ear.

"So, tell me, Malcolm," she said in her sexiest voice. Since you paid Larry twenty-five hundred dollars to be with me, what I can do for you?" She allowed her hand to fall on his oak sized thigh again and rested her fingertips on his crotch. "What do you want? What do you like?"

"I guess because I'm lonely and love to talk, I rather just talk," he said looking at her as if sorry for confessing that he was lonely. "Imagine someone like me, who can have just about anyone, pining over his wife and being lonely."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. We can talk if that's what you want and what will make you feel better," she said removing her fingers from his ear and her hand from his thigh.

"Talking is what does it for me, baby," he said looking at her with a big smile. He took her hand and put it on his crotch and rubbed her palm against the big bulge in his pants. "Some call it pillow talk, but more than pillow talk especially when continued out of the bedroom, in the kitchen, the living room, outside, and in the car, I call it arousing erotic conversation. Talking is what it's all about. Dirty talk fills my mind with images that I can take away with me after the sex is over. Sexy talk filled with dirty words and actions is so cerebrally sexy."




Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 07



June's fingers felt the head of the big man's bulge. She slid her hand further over more of his big prick and grabbed more than a handful of him. With a cock to match his stature, he was definitely a big man.

"Oh, yeah? Dirty talk is what turns you on, is that it? You like to talk about it, don't you, you dirty man?" She looked deeply in his big, brown eyes. "Well, I'm a well mannered woman, a parochial school girl, a virgin who was taught never to talk with her mouth full, if you know what I mean," she said running her tongue across her lips and unzipping his pants.

"Oh, my Lord, June," said Malcolm staring at her hand grabbing his cock.

"Sorry but I don't expect I'll be doing much talking with my mouth full of your big, hard, black cock," she said looking down at the bulge his cock made in his white underwear. "I can't wait to taste you. I can't wait for you to cum in my mouth," she said reaching in his underwear and taking hold of his hard prick in her soft hand.

"Wait. Hold on, girl. Slow down. Take it easy. Where's the fire?"

"What? Did I say something wrong? Do you need me to do and say something in some kind of preferred order? I can talk dirtier than that, Malcolm. Just tell me what you want. Just tell me what to do."

He stopped her by putting his big hand over hers. With his prick beneath her hand and her hand on top of hers, she could feel the sheer power of the man. She'd never want to meet him in a dark alley alone, that's for sure.

"I may have given you the wrong impression of me, June." He removed her hand from his cock and held it. "I like you. I like you a lot. I really do. There's something about you that I find so exciting. I've never met anyone like you. All the other women I've been with were just cheap whores and what we did was just sex. Only, with you it's different. You're real. You're someone that I could fall head over heels in love with but I don't cheat on Lucille."

"I don't understand, Malcolm," said June shrinking back in the soft leather of the car seat.

"Being with you, even though we haven't done anything yet is the closest I've come to cheating on my wife. I've never cheated on Lucille and I'm not about to cheat on her. I may be a lot of bad things but one of the good things about me is that I'm a faithful, loving husband who believes in the sacred sanctity of my marriage vows...for better or for worse, until death do you part. I love my Lucille. We've been through a lot and she's always been there for me, until now, when she can't even help herself never mind help me."

"Never cheated? Malcolm, c'mon, seriously," she said looking at him in shocked disbelief. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that you never cheated on your wife when you're sitting here with me, a call girl that you requested to be dressed like a teenaged slut?" She took her hand back from his and leaned further away from him.

"Hold on, June. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I was a virgin when I was married. The only man I had sex with was my husband, that is, until Larry raped me. I never cheated on my husband until he cheated me by no longer wanting to provide for me and our children. Then, the last straw was when he'd rather have sex with my mother than with me."

"I hear you, June, but it's not the same," he said looking at her with sadness. "You no longer love your husband and I still love my wife."

"Bullshit! That's just bullshit, Malcolm, and you know it. I see the real you. You can't fool me. I'm not one of the stupid bitches you fuck and allow them to suck you before you kick their ass to the curb. I know who you are," she said remaining silent to think about all that she just said and to compose her thoughts.

"You don't know me, June. You don't know anything about me. I bet I'm the first black man you've ever been with," he said with a victorious grin. "You have no idea all that I've been through. When people see me they invariable thing that a man so big must be a professional athlete and not a scholar and an intellect."

"You're hiding behind a woman's skirt. You're using your wife as a ruse. You're happy to be married to a woman who doesn't want a real relationship. So long as you provide her with all the food she needs and so long as you don't disrespect her by holding up your philandering ways up to her face for her to see the phony you are, you're free to come and go as you please to do whatever you want. A man without complications, a nagging wife and demanding children, you're more a bachelor than a married man."

"I bought and paid for your white ass. How dare you talk to me like that!"

"Now that you protest your indignation, I wonder if you're even married. Now that you're so exposed," she said looking down at his unzipped bulge, "I wonder if Lucille even exists than in your mind."

"You don't know me, June. You just think you do," he said raising his voice.

"Tell me this then, if you'd never cheat on your wife, why did you pay for a prostitute? If you don't cheat on your precious Lucille, what are you doing here with me, now? And what did you do with all those prostitutes before?"

"It's none of your business what I did or didn't do. I didn't pay for you to flap your gums. I paid for you to--"

"To what, Malcolm? To suck your cock or to talk dirty to you?" She looked at him with a hard stare. "Tell me this. Did you fuck them? Did they suck you? Did you take them around the world in the way that you told Larry that you were taking me? Or did you just talk them to death in the way that you're talking to me in going on about your cars and your fried chicken."

"We just talked and I just listened," he said with a big smile to cover his obvious anger. "There's no harm in hiring a prostitute to just listen while I talk. That's not cheating, is it?"

As if seeing a side of her that he hadn't seen before, he looked at her with renewed respect. Suddenly being defensive, perhaps, because he was so scary big, obviously no one talked to him in such a rude manner, no one stood up to him, and no one challenged whatever he said before as the truth. Having lived a lie with her marriage, June knew that after lying about something for a long while, even the liars believes their own lies. 

"You're an educated man, what do you talk about to these women who are as dumb as a stump?"

"I like talking about my stuff and listening about their stuff."

"Stuff?"

June had an edge to her voice. She knew that he was trying to play her but she'd have none of that. Already down that road with her lying husband, she wasn't about to take that dead end with Malcolm. The funny thing is that, hoping Lucille didn't exist and hoping that Malcolm wasn't married but single, she was looking for more than just sex from Malcolm. She liked him. A sexual, sensual woman, a wife, and a mother, she wasn't a prostitute. She was looking more of a relationship that having one time sex with a John.

"Yeah, you know, stuff," he said avoiding her eye contact.

"So that we can discuss stuff too, tell me, what kind of stuff do you like talking about and listening to?"

"You know, sexual stuff."

"I see. Well that narrows it down a bit," she said with sarcasm. "What kind of sexual stuff?"

For a man who supposedly enjoyed dirty talk, she felt his sudden discomfort with the conversation, especially after he sidestepped her question by not going into detail about what kind of sexual stuff that he enjoyed discussing. Hoping to tease him into telling her more, she lightly rubbed his big thigh before leaving her fingertips in contact with his growing bulge.

"Not only will Lucille not give me sex," sadness took hold of his face, "but also she refuses to even talk about sex. Any time I broach the subject of sex, she tells me that she's going to pray for me to resist Satan's temptation. Satan's temptation? I tell her that there's no Satan if it's sex between a husband and wife, but she's convinced herself that sex is only for procreation and against the good book if it's done without having children in mind. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm talking to a cult member. Unfortunately, now, that she can no longer have children, sex for her is over. Based on what she reads in the Bible, sex is not something to enjoy but to endure as a sacrifice to have children."

"That's terribly, Malcolm. I feel bad for you. Only, be honest with me," she looked at him as if she was a psychiatrist and he was a convicted felon trying to fool the doctor by using the insanity defense. "You're not married, are you?" She watched his eyes for an involuntary expression. "If Lucille even exists, who is she? Definitely she's not your wife, I know that for sure. Is Lucille your mother?" She looked at him trying to read his face and when he flinched she knew the real story.

"What are you saying, woman? You're just talking daffy. Maybe we should forget about all of this and I'll drive you back to Larry. You can keep the money."

"Lucille's your sister, isn't she?" When he put his head down in pained defeat, she knew the truth. "Your brothers raped your sister, didn't they?" She looked at him hard for a long time before asking her next question. "You killed your brothers, didn't you?"

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 08



Chapter 8

Incestuous Sex, Lies, and a Journal Hidden Under the Mattress. 

"I made it look like a gang hit. I made sure my brothers never raped her again. The police were happy to collect their bodies and erase a dozen unsolved crimes with the death of them. As if wiping out my past, by wiping out them, with no one else to hold me back, I was reborn by the death of them. They were no good," he said to her with a face full of sorrow.

"You don't have to tell me anymore, Malcolm, if by making me explicit in your crime makes you uncomfortable. I understand," said June rubbing his big knee. "What you say to me, I'd never tell anyone. You can trust me with your secret."

"Thank you, June," he said looking at her as if he wanted to get it all off his chest. If June had suspected he had never told anyone what he had done, she'd be right. He looked at her as if trying to read her before continuing. "The much maligned stereotypical, inner-city black male, when there are more good, young, black men and women than bad, they hung their bad actions on everyone else. In and out of jail, gangbangers into drugs, robberies, assaults, beatings, carjacking, and rapes, you name it, they did it. All three of my brothers had rap sheets longer than my arm. Even though I still had a foot in the gutter, somehow I was able to pull myself out of the sewer and they weren't. Yet, with me being their brother and their deep pocket, I was always there helping them, bailing them out, paying for lawyers, giving them jobs, and buying them cars," said Malcolm looking away from June to look at the floor of the car.

"You're a good man, Malcolm," said June.

"As if they were angry that I made something of myself, it didn't matter all that I did for them, they wanted more. They weren't happy unless I was doing a poorly as they were. I tried to get them to return to school to learn a trade but they wouldn't go. They said they could sometimes make more money on the streets in a day than I could make in a year."

"You tried being a good brother by setting an example and by showing them a different way that they refused take," said June. "None of what happened was your fault, Malcolm. You shouldn't feel guilty about doing what you did in protection of your sister. For all you know, having already crossed that incestuous line and getting away with it by sexually assaulting her once, now an easy victim with their invisible tramp stamp they put on her, they may have sexually assaulted her again and again."

"The last straw was when they tried to involve me in one of their dirty schemes. They threatened to blackmail me and extort money from me for a mistake I made with my sister a very long time ago, if I didn't go along with them. Stupidly, when I had been drinking heavily one day, I entrusted my brothers with my incestuous secret," said Malcolm looking at June with shame. "Had I done what they wanted me to do, I would have lost all that I worked years to build. I would have lost my company and my reputation in the community. Worse than that, I may have gone to jail."

"Just be thankful that you turned them down," said June.

"I cut them off for good and had nothing more to do with them for almost a year. I didn't answer my phone when they called or open my door when they came knocking. They knew how to get to me by using and abusing my sister," said Malcolm looking at June and pausing before continuing. "They knew I'd come running when she called."

"So what happened with Lucille? Tell me. You can trust me not to tell anyone," said June looking at Malcolm with a face full of as much curiosity as she had understanding. "How could they sexually attack their own sister?"

"Lucille was the baby of the family and, fun and funny, she liked everyone and everyone liked her. Except for my three, bad seed brothers, we all helped one another and looked out for one another. A close knit family growing up, we always had one another's backs. Then, as we matured, our family dimension changed. Now only out for themselves, my three brothers were jealous of my success."

"That happens in the best of families, Malcolm," said June.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have the best of families. I had the worst of families," he said with coldness. "After my brother Louis was shot and killed in a drug deal gone bad and my brothers, Marcus and Anthony, absconded with the money and the drugs, they needed a place to hide. It wasn't the police they were hiding from, it was their own gang members."

"Geez, Malcolm, it's good that you stayed clear of that, otherwise the gang would be looking for you," said June.

"Being the gregarious and affable person she is, my sister took their heat. Agreeing to put herself in danger to help them, Lucille put them up in her apartment after my sister Camille refused to help. They stayed with Lucille for a few weeks before their incestuous lust for her grew completely out of control," said Malcolm with sadness. "It wasn't from my brothers' gang that Lucille needed protection from, it was her own brothers."

"I'm so sorry, Malcolm," said June.

"With my brothers staying at her place, a small, one bedroom apartment, and with them drinking and doing drugs, it wasn't long before they started spying on her dressing and undressing. Except for the front and back doors, with her not having locks on any of her doors, not even the bathroom door, they continually peeped on her. Then, taking it a step further, she told me they were always brazenly walking in on her, standing there, and watching her as she was dressing and undressing. She told me that they were always walking around her naked and flashing her their dicks."

"Eww, gross," said June. "I can't believe they did that to her, the poor woman."

"Lucille told me that what started out as an innocent hug and kiss turned into groping and forced French kissing. She resisted their sexual advances but, growing bolder with their lust, they continued to escalate. With them touching her where no brother should ever touch his sister, when they tried kissing her and putting her hand on their cocks, she had enough of hiding them. When she asked them to leave was when they raped her," said Malcolm holding his hand in his head. "They raped my baby sister."

"That's unbelievable. That's so shameful. That's despicable," said June. "How could they do that to their own sister?"

"Now, don't get me wrong, Lucille can take care of herself. No lightweight, she's a big woman, six foot tall and one-hundred-seventy pounds but, grabbing her from behind, they bound her wrists behind her back with one of those police twist ties and covered her mouth with duct tape. Coercing her to tell me the details of what happened, after giving her a lot of patient understanding and brotherly loving consideration, she told me that they sat her down on the couch. Then, as if it was a scene taken from Stanley Kubrick's Clockwork Orange or a video taken from a Japanese subway train where men molest women in public, they took their time cutting off her clothes with a pair of scissors."

"Good God, that's so bizarrely shocking," said June.

"As if they were playing a sick game, they cut holes in her blouse to expose her bra before snipping out pieces of her bra to expose her nipples and breasts. Then they cut pieces out of her pants to expose her panty before snipping holes in her panty to expose her pubic hair, pussy, and ass. With my sister crying behind her duct taped mouth and her clothes looking so much like Swiss cheese, Marcus cut off the rest of her clothes while Anthony felt her breasts, fingered her nipples, and licked her pussy. Once she was naked and submissively quiet, they threatened to stab her with the scissors if she didn't blow them. They removed the duct tape from her mouth, pushed her to her knees, and forced her to suck them. Forcing her to swallow, she told me that she sucked Marcus first and then Anthony."

"Bastards," said June. "Those dirty bastards! If they were here now, I'd kill them myself," said June.

Stripping her, touching her, and molesting her, as if she was some cheap party whore they brought home from a strip club, Marcus spread her legs, mounted her, and fucked her. Then Anthony did the same. I was never as angry when Lucille told me what they did to her," said Malcolm grabbing the back of his car seat with his big hand, violently shaking it, and looking as if he was going to rip it out of the car. 

"Calm down, Malcolm. It's okay," said June rubbing his leg. 

"I needed to hear from my sister's lips what happened before confronting my brothers. Even then, after they raped my baby sister, I gave them every consideration of mercy and every chance for them to redeem themselves by them telling me the truth. Instead of being honest with me, instead of being a man and admitting what they did, they lied. Looking for some sign of remorse, when all they gave me was their contempt, seeing myself in them in the way that I used to be, I knew that if I didn't end their lives, they'd ruin mine."

"You did what you had to do," said June. "It's okay, Malcolm. It's all behind you now."

"Instead of saying they were sorry, instead of begging me for mercy, instead of wanting to make amends to my sister, before they died, they told me that the sex was consensual. What fuckers! Can you imagine them blaming poor Lucille for their incestuous depravity? How low can they go in their depravity. When I looked in their eyes, a criminal to the very end, they truly believed that they were innocent of raping Lucille."

"Wow," said June.

"They told me that she was the aggressor. They told me she was coming on to the from the first night they were there. They told me that she'd dress and undress with her bedroom door open. They told me that she was the one teasing them by walking around her apartment topless and naked. They told me that she wanted to fuck and suck them but, knowing my Lucille in the way that I do, I knew better. I knew they were lying. Just as I knew the bad men my brothers were, I knew the good woman my Lucille was. In the way I put them high up on my pedestal, just like my mother, my baby sister was a saint, Saint Lucille. With the woman incapable of lying, I just had to look in Lucille's eyes to know the truth." Malcolm looked away from June to stare out his car window.

"I'm so sorry, Malcolm. I'm not a violent person, but I understand that you did what you had to do," said June looking at Malcolm. "I don't think I could kill anyone unless they were trying to kill me or my children but it must have been so horrible for you to have to murder your brothers for the safety of your sister."

"Getting away with crimes all their lives, serving too little time for all that they did, they deserved to die for what they did to Lucille," said Malcolm making a big fist and pumping it. "They had no right to do that to their own sister. What they did was so wrong, especially after she helped hide them."

"Some people are just born evil, Malcolm," said June.

"After all that happened, she was never right in the head. She had nightmares. I tried getting her to see someone, but she wouldn't go. Afraid to go out, she never left her apartment. On the pretense of having her do some paperwork for me, I supported her, paying all her bills and expenses. She didn't even go out to buy groceries. She bought all that she needed online and had them delivered. That's when she started gaining weight. No doubt eating from stress and not even going out to walk, she ballooned to more than three hundred pounds."

"The poor, poor woman," said June.

"A sad and lonely existence, she remained alone with no man in her life and no children. Then, one day, years after the sexual assault, after she didn't answer her phone, I went to her apartment" he said looking at June with tears in his eyes. "I found her dead," said Malcolm hanging his head. "She killed herself. She committed suicide. Thinking that this was the final chapter and the worst of it, the death of her would have been the death of me, had I not found my salvation and my redemption by stumbling on the truth."

"Oh, my God. How so tragically sad? I'm so sorry, Malcolm," was all that June could say after this incestuous triangle and murderous confession prematurely ended their evening of sex. "The worst of it? What do you mean, the worst of it? What do you mean by the death of her would have been the death of you, had you not found your salvation and your redemption by stumbling on the truth?"

"Just as you never know what people do behind closed, bedroom doors, you never know what skeletons people have hiding in their closets," he said as if he was a Reverend in church giving a Sunday sermon.

Malcolm remained silent while looking at June.

"I don't understand, Malcolm. You're talking in riddles. What does your sister's suicide have to do with your salvation and redemption? How much worse could things have gotten than your brothers raping your sister, you killing your brothers, and your sister committing suicide?"

"Honestly, June, that's not even the worst of it," said Malcolm shaking his head and taking her small hand in his big hand.

"Seriously? You're kidding. Not the worst of it? How can it get any worse than that?"

"Sparing my older sister, Camille, from cleaning out her apartment, when I was boxing up Lucille's belongings, I found her journal hidden under her mattress. I took it home with me and after reading it, I destroyed it."

"What did she write?" June looked at Malcolm with a face full of apprehension.

"What didn't she write? It was all there. What she wrote was quite the eye opener into the sordid, sexual life of my baby sister. I thought she was an Angel. I thought she was a saint. She was a whore. Much like me with all the sexual escapades I've done in my life, like big brother like baby sister, I had no idea she had such a dark side to her life. I thought she was one of the bright lights in my family. Always trying to emulate her goodness and positive attitude, the truth in her journal surprised me."

"We all have things we regretted doing, Malcolm. No one lives a perfect life," said June..

"Before I started earning a lot of money, while I was working hard to build my fortune and my brothers were being arrested and put in jail, my sister did a lot of late night clubbing. When she was unemployed for a time and desperate for cash to pay her bills, she exchanged sex for money for rent and for food. I've read what she wrote over so many times that I practically memorized the last page."

"You don't have to tell me, Malcolm, if it's that painful," said June stopping him but looking as if she couldn't wait to know all the dirty details. "Sometimes it's best you remember the dead in the way you remembered her when she was alive and before reading the sordid truth in her personal journal."

"Damn, she wrote" said Malcolm ignoring June's suggestion to not defile the memory of Lucille when his sister already had done that herself. As if praying, as if meditating, and as if calling forward all that he read from memory, he closed his eyes and remained silent for a while. Then, as if he was getting in character before reading a rehearsed script, he abruptly started speaking. "I didn't know Malcolm was going to kill Marcus and Anthony for something they didn't do. It was all my fault and now it's all my fault that my brothers are dead."

"Oh, my God," uttered June.

"I never should have partied with them. I never should have dressed and undressed in front of them. I shouldn't have walked around the apartment topless and naked in front of them. A sister sexually teasing her brothers, what was I thinking? Even though I've always been sexually attracted to them, I was asking for trouble," continued Malcolm. "Only, I was drunk and high and as stoned as they were. It the way that I seduced my big brother, in the way that I fucked and sucked Malcolm so very long ago, I always wanted to suck and fuck Marcus and Anthony too."

"You had sex with your sister?" June looked at him with disdain.

"It was a long time ago. We were drunk. We were troubled. We were poor. We were stupid. We were lonely and in need of some sexual comfort. As if a spark that ignites a curtain and with our young, horny bodies a blazing inferno, one thing quickly led to another. Even though we were both of age, even though she wasn't a virgin and the sex was consensual, being that I was older and should have known better, I always felt guilty for taking advantage of her. After that, I took care of her with money in trying to make things right. Years later, when she told me that Marcus and Anthony raped her, blaming myself and still feeling bad for what I had done so long ago, I lost my mind as if I was the one who had raped her."

"I'm sorry for prematurely prejudging you for having sex with your sister. It's wrong but I understand now. It's just that with my mother having sex with my husband, whether it's a mother and son-in-law or a brother and sister, I'm unduly sensitive to that type of forbidden relationship," said June.

"It's okay. I understand too. I do," said Malcolm.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you. Is there more to what Lucille wrote?"

"There is," he said continuing to recite from memory again. "It was just a blowjob, she wrote. It was only supposed to be just a quick lay. I didn't think they'd take things further than that. Even though I always sexually fantasized about having sex with my brothers, I never would have had sex with them had I not been high on cocaine. What happened served me right. Getting more than I bargained for, after they fucked my pussy, I couldn't believe it when they turned me around and fucked me up the ass over and again too. Treating me like some cheap bought and paid for whore, that wasn't right. Hurting like Hell, they could at least have lubricated my ass first."

"Jesus Christ, Malcolm, this is unbelievable," said June.

"I couldn't believe it when they pounded my ass, really pounded my black ass as if I was some prison cellmate," undaunted by June's outrage, Malcolm continued. "I should have known with them being in prison so long that they'd prefer anal sex to regular sex, she wrote. Using me like the whore that I've become, over the next few days, I don't how many times they fucked me and made me blow them. I would have fought them, if I wasn't so enjoying the welcomed sex. I should have known what I did was wrong, but I never thought Malcolm would do what he did for the sake of me. Thinking that I was only telling him stories to get him sexually aroused in the way that I used to do when telling him about my sexual experiences with my boyfriends, I didn't think he'd take me seriously. No longer able to live with the guilt, I wish I were dead."

"So, just as they were all lying, in their own way, they were all telling the truth. The sex between Lucille, Marcus, and Anthony was consensual, that is, until they took her anally," said June.

"Yes," said Malcolm.

"And all that Lucille told you about her brothers reenacting a scene from Clockwork Orange by cutting her clothes with scissors was a lie too?"

"Yeah. With me blinded by the guilt I carried from my youth for having had sex with my what I thought was my innocent sister, I was unable to see her for who she was, a sexual woman of incestuous passion and free will. I guess I didn't want me to know and was unable to believe that she was the instigator enticing my brothers and not the other way around," said Malcolm with sadness.

"Obviously, blaming yourself for having sex with your sister, that makes sense that it was your guilty conscience that interfered with your judgment in seeing your sister for who she really was," said June trying to comfort him. "I'm sure I'll be confronting that issue myself, when my children grow older and question my logic for giving out sex for money, rent, and food."




Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 08



"She changed after she was sexually assaulted. She was never like this. We used to tease her because she had big tits, huge knockers. She had a lot of boyfriends but I never thought she was having sex with all of them. Lucille was no virgin, but she wasn't a whore either, at least I didn't think she was. Who knows? Maybe she was. No matter, my kid sister and my best friend, she was normal in every way and we had a great brother and sister relationship, once we got by our sexual attraction."

"She sounds normal to me," said June. "If anything I was backward sexually, having only experienced two men in my life, my husband and Larry, that is, until meeting you, which by the way, we still haven't done anything, Mister," she said with a nervous laugh.

"She was just as sexual as I was back then, not that we had sex again but, as she eluded to in her journal, we openly discussed the men she dated," said Malcolm ignoring her comment again. "Mostly for titillation sake, I told her that I got off on hearing her talking dirty and hearing her sexual confessions. Talking about sex with my kid sister was probably where my fetish for dirty talk started. With me always giving her money, paying for this and buying her that, she reciprocated my kind, generosity by telling me about all the blowjobs she gave to men. My sister said that she loved sucking cock and I truly believed that she was making up stories just to excite me as recompense for the money I freely gave her. Yet, now that I know her better through her journal and through her stories, what she told me weren't stories but real sexual encounters that she had with numerous men."

"It's all so tragically shocking, Malcolm. No one would ever believe this if it wasn't all true," said June remaining quiet while waiting for him to speak again.

"Before all of this happened, she was fun loving. Then, even though she never left the house to go to church, she was into the Almighty Lord and the good book. No doubt, her prayers are what got her through her darkest hour, but that was years ago. It's time to move on, but it was apparent to me that she'd never get over what happened to her," he said pausing to make eye contact with June. "I didn't tell her that I killed Marcus and Anthony. I didn't have to tell her. She knew me well enough to know what I had to do to give her peace and to not make her afraid again. Only, I made the fatal mistake of believing her over my brothers. Trusting her over them, I should have realized that they were all playing me for money."

"They were bad men, Malcolm, if you hadn't taken their lives, it would only be a matter of time before their own gang members or the police would have," said June. "As far as your sister, she was only trying to get by in telling you what she thought you wanted to hear. It was all such a tragic misunderstanding," said June.

"Maybe she still would have been alive today if only she had talked to someone, a therapist, someone who is trained in counseling rape victims, but she refused to see a doctor. Other than our minister, who checked on her at her apartment from time to time, she talked to no one about what happened, not even with me or her big sister, Camille. She used to be close to her sister but she shut her out too."

"So all of that about you being married was a lie?" June looked at him with insight.

"It was," said Malcolm."

"Pretending she was your living wife, you used your dead sister as a way and as your excuse not to get close to women," said June with even more insight. "Is that it?"

"Yes," said Malcolm ashamed as if he was just caught lying to his mother. "Only it's different with you, June. You're the first woman who has touched me deeper inside. Able to talk to you about everything and able to tell you all my secrets, you're the first woman I trust."

"Well, I like you too, Malcolm and I'd like to get to know you better, if only you'll allow me inside. I think we've taken a giant leap by you trusting me with your dark secrets," said June. They remained silent while June wondered how to broach the next subject after Malcolm ruined the sexual mood by expounding so much personal tragedy.

"Well, where do we go from here?" Malcolm looked at her while waiting for her to respond.

"Being that you still have some time left on the clock," she said looking at her watch. "Maybe we can preserve this date after all," she persevered with a sexy smile and a slow cross of her legs to flash him her panty. "Tell me and be explicit. Don't omit a thing. What kind of sexual stuff do you talk about when with other women? Then, tell me what I can do for you, Malcolm," she said resting her hand in his crotch.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 09



Chapter 9

More than just a job and not all just dirty talk, Malcolm makes June a proposition. 

"There's nothing that you can do for me that I can't do for myself, June."

"There's nothing I can do for you? I don't understand," she said looking at him. "Unless you're a contortionist and have a blowup doll at home, I can think of a couple of things that I can do for you that you aren't able to do for yourself," she said with a laugh.

"Point taken," said Malcolm laughing too. "Actually, pillow talk but without actually having sex does it for me. I can't get enough of dirty talk. I enjoy asking women what they've done and who they've done it with. I like knowing what their most embarrassing situations were, such as, if they were caught undressing or masturbating, if they lost a bikini top at the beach or someone was peeping on them through their bedroom window. I love knowing what turns them on and what makes them horny. I enjoy them telling me about what they think about when masturbating."

When he looked over at her, she removed any judgment from her face and accepted him for who he was, a horny, lonely, untrusting, big, black man.

"Being that you're so specific about your fetish, it certainly sounds like you know what you want," said June. "Only, other than you masturbating yourself while thinking about all that women told you about their most embarrassing experiences and what they think about while masturbating, just talking about sex and not having sex doesn't sound so sexually fulfilling to me. After they disclose what they've done and who they've done it with, after they tell you their most embarrassing experience, and after they confess what turns them on and what they masturbate about, the next progression would be having sex with them."

"Unfortunately, other than with a prostitute, there aren't many women who are comfortable freely talking about their sexual past, especially to a stranger. There's always that false premise that women are supposed to be pure and innocent. Conversely, from all the woman I've known, including my beloved sister, dear, departed, Lucille," said Malcolm bowing his head and signing himself. "Just as much of a sexual animal as are men, most women are sluts."

"And most men are pigs," said June with a laugh. "We're all human, Malcolm. We all have needs, wants, and desires," said June not wanting to be classified as a slut even though being paid to dress the way she was dressed and willing to do what was expected of her deemed her a slut.

"Maybe they feel guilty for what they did in the past and, in the way of holding up a mirror of shame to their face, they don't want to discuss what they did with someone who may be in their future. Maybe they think I'd think them a slut or a whore and, no doubt, I would. Most women think it odd that I want to know what they did sexually anyway. Perhaps they think if we were to develop a relationship, I'd throw it up in their face one day and, probably, one day, I would. That's why I pay Larry to find me someone for the privilege of having an arousing, erotic conversation."

"I see," said June looking at him with interest. "So let me get this straight. With all the women that Larry supplied you with, you just talk to them? You never touched them? They never touched you? You didn't have any sex with any of them?"

"I know it may sound odd and I may have told you or suggested differently to you, but it was all just talk, June, along with a bit of peeping, if they flashed me. Sadly and unfortunately for me, believe it or not, there aren't very many women who know how to correctly and seductively flash a man."

"What do you mean?" As if she was Sharon Stone in the movie, Basic Instinct, June turned more in her car seat to face Malcolm while slowly and seductively crossing her legs to flash him her panty.

"So much more erotically exciting, I prefer a woman who can make her flashes appear accidental. I love leaving a woman while scratching my head and wondering if she flashed me accidentally or on purpose. Maybe it's something that dates back to my childhood in seeing up skirts and down blouses of my mother, sisters, aunts, and cousins, but it sexually excites me to see something that I wasn't supposed to see. Seeing an up skirt flash of panty or an up nightgown flash of a pussy, or seeing a down blouse view of a bra or a down nightgown flash of a breast is more erotically arousing than seeing a woman standing before me naked."

"Wow," said June. "I understand what you're saying but, if given the choice, I don't think there'd be many men who'd pick an up skirt flash or down blouse view over seeing a naked woman."

"Unfortunately, being that most prostitutes have been sexually abused, even a prostitute may be reluctant to talk about their past sexual encounters with me. Most think me weird for wanting to know what they did with their Johns," said Malcolm shrugging his big shoulders. "I don't like women who can't talk about what they've done and who they've been with sexually. If they can't openly talk about sex, too secretive and probably hiding something, then they can't be trusted."

"Not all women, even prostitutes are comfortable talking about sex, Malcolm," said June.

"Precisely my point, June. To be honest, so long as they're classy and not slutty, I like whores who enjoy being a prostitute, those who aren't shy, embarrassed, or uncomfortable talking about sex and about their past, personal, sexual experiences." He made eye contact with her and smiled. "I'm surprised that Larry never told you what I like?"

"Apparently, from our conversation now, I don't think Larry even knows what you like. Otherwise he would have told me upfront that you like to talk about sex and to listen to a woman talk about sex rather than having sex," said June with some rejection. "Honestly, I was surprised that someone who's as good looking and as much of a manly man as you is just a talker and not a doer." June looked down and marveled at how small her hand was in his before looking up to make eye contact with him. "Listen Malcolm, I know you paid Larry $2,500 for my services and I feel obligated that I should give you something to—"

"What we're doing now, openly and honestly talking while holding hands, is what I like to do, June. Besides, with you dressed the way you're dressed, with your blouse unbuttoned enough that I can see your cleavage, your bra and a bit of your titties, and with your skirt raised high enough to flash me your panty is enough sexual stimulation for me."

"What else, Malcolm? Surely, just dirty talk isn't enough to get you off," said June removing her hand from his and hoping not to frighten the big man by running a slow hand along his muscular thigh. "Surely, in addition to talking, you enjoy having sex with a woman, don't you?"

He stared down at her hand before looking up at her. As if he was a fly and she was a spider, he was already trapped in her web.

"I go home and take care of that business myself," he said looking at all that she was showing and seemingly a bit uncomfortable confessing that he preferred masturbating himself to having sex with women. "If you'd like to do something for me, June--"

"Yes, I would, Malcolm. Tell me what you want. Anything and I'd be happy to sexually satisfy you," she said running a slow tongue over her lips while placing her hand on his bulge.

Malcolm stared at all that June was showing. He stared up her skirt at her panty and he stared down her blouse at her bra. He seemed content just looking until he asked to see more.

"If I could see a little more up your skirt, see your panty, your pussy mound, and your pussy slit, and see a bit more down your blouse, more of your cleavage, your bra, and part of the top of your tit, that will help the process along for me to recall when I'm masturbating over you later."

June went a bit overboard in her attempt to sexually please him. With a foot planted on his massive thigh, she spread her legs, lifted up her short skirt to her waist and, with a hand beneath her skirt, pulled her panty to the side to expose her smoothly shaved pussy. With him staring at her exposed panty and pussy lips, she unbuttoned another button of her blouse and pulled her bra down enough to expose most of her breasts and her areolas and nipples.

She watched him staring from her tits to her pussy and from her pussy to her tits. She was as aroused showing him her tits and pussy as she hoped he'd be aroused seeing them. A sexy game of erotic exhibitionism and voyeurism, living the life of the bored, unhappy housewife and busy mother, she never sexually played with anyone, not even her husband during their dating and early married days. With her sexual attraction to him taking a back seat to his fetish, putting an active sex relationship on the back burner for now, she was happy to play his game of dirty, pillow talking. Even though he was yet to touch her, feel her, and undress her, he made her feel sexy. He made her feel wicked. He made her wet.

"How's that?"

Malcolm looked at her as if she had just insulted him.

"No, sorry, that doesn't do it for me," he said crushing her with embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said removing her foot from his leg.

She fixed her panty and put her tits back in her bra while thinking that he thought the worst of her for so shamelessly exposing herself to him. No doubt, now he must think of her as a slut even though she's playing the role of one sitting there with him in the backseat of his car with the little that she's wearing.

"Don't get me wrong, June. I'm not rejecting you. That's not it at all. You're a very beautiful and desirable woman and I appreciate your effort to please me," he said with a smile. "As I tried explaining to you before, I like seeing something that I'm not supposed to see. The hint of something is more exciting than seeing a woman naked. It's real good if I see something by accident, even if it's an accidentally on purpose flash."

"I see," she said with some disappointment that she was unable to sexually excite him.

"A flash of panty when a woman crosses her legs to get more comfortable or a peek down a blouse when she's leaning forward to rifle through her purse is what fills my mind with the visuals that I need to masturbate over later. Always wanting to see more and imagining later that I did, I prefer an erotic tease instead of a flagrant display."

"Then, I don't understand," she said suddenly feeling like Julia Roberts ridiculously dressed as prostitute, Vivian Ward, in Pretty Woman. "If you don't like all that I'm showing, why am I wearing this ridiculously revealing outfit? Why did Larry tell me to shave my pubic hair, wear extra makeup with bright, red lipstick, and put my hair in pigtails?"

"He did? Larry told you to do that? He went so far as to tell you what to wear? He told you to dress like this? I don't believe it. I don't believe him." Malcolm roared laughing. "What you look like now is the type of woman that Larry likes? He likes the young, dumb, 18-year-old, bubblegum chewing girls instead of an older, intelligent, and more mature woman."

"Do you want a piece of bubblegum?" She reached in her purse and pulled out a piece. "Larry told me that you like women who chew bubblegum," she said with a laugh. 

"He prefers girls to women, which is why he insisted you shave your private parts. I go more for the elegant lady, someone my age, a little younger, or even a little older, than the college coed slut. You'll never see me hanging around Spring Break in the way that Larry goes there every year," he said with a laugh. "I enjoy taking a woman out someplace nice and having a good time while talking about sexy things."

"That little prick. That little shit,," said June fuming. "Wait until I see him again. Wait until I get my hands around his scrawny, little neck. I'll coldcock him one."

"This was Larry's last chance to give me what I want. Figuring that I'd want what he'd want, he must have felt pressured. He's not very smart, is he?"

"Larry? Smart? He's a dope," said June with a shrug.

"I told him that I was going elsewhere because of the trashy women he arranged for me. I told him that unless he could provide me with a more refined woman that I'd never ask him to supply me with another prostitute again. I told him that I wanted someone without tattoos, teased, bleached, blonde hair, an attitude that matched her bad complexion, someone who didn't smoke and/or take drugs, and a woman that had teeth," he said looking at her as if she was a piping hot plate of crispy, fried chicken. "He promised me someone special this time. He promised me someone really sexy and hot. He promised me you," he said smiling. "And except for that ridiculous, foul ball of an outfit you're wearing, he finally hit a homerun, a grand slam by fixing me up with you."

"Thank you, Malcolm," she said gushing with his compliment.

"I like you, June. I really do."

"I like you, too, Malcolm," she said lightly rubbing his bulge.

"What if—" he said staying quiet for a long minute, "what if?"

"Yes? What if what, Malcolm?" June reached up her other hand to play with his ear in the hopes of teasing him to have sex with her.

"What if, instead of working for Larry, you worked for me?"

"Worked for you? I don't know anything about the automotive accessory business." June looked at him with disappointment while thinking that all she was good for was sex and Malcolm didn't even want that. He just wanted to talk. He just wanted to listen. "Married with children all my life, I don't know how to do anything, Malcolm. I haven't had a job in an office in—"

"No, not that kind of work," he said with a big laugh. "I don't see you answering phones and filing. Although I wouldn't mind seeing you leaning over a desk while wearing a low cut blouse or squatting down with your legs parted while filing."

She looked at him while thinking what he meant. Then the revelation of his meaning took hold of her.

"Do you mean hooking for you with you as my pimp? Is that what you mean? Do you want me to be your prostitute?"

"Well, not thinking myself as a pimp or you as a prostitute, I wouldn't phrase it like that, but yeah, I guess. Only, think of me more as a benefactor and you as a companion. I'd call what we'd do as more of an escort service and you an escort instead of a hooker." He smiled. "I have friends who come to town from time to time and who'd love to have the company of someone like you. They'd not only treat you well but also they'd pay you well for your time too."

She looked at him a bit shocked that she was interviewing for a job instead of having sex with the big man. Nonetheless, interested to hear the rest of his proposition, she'd much rather work for Malcolm than for Larry.

"How much do you consider well paid?"

"Oh, I figure you're definitely worth much more than Larry is paying you. Once we buy you some new clothes, get you into some sexy but classy outfits, and get you all beautified in one of those spas that pamper your body as well as your spirit, you'd be spectacular looking, a one of a kind beauty. Easily, you'd earn $500 an hour with some men willing to pay someone who looks as classy as you do a $1,000 an hour or more."

Already she was looking forward to a day spent at a spa luxuriously pampering herself. While imagining getting a massage and having her hair, nails, and makeup done, she's never imagined having such decadent treatment. As if she was Cinderella and Malcolm was her fairy Godfather, June reveled in receiving that kind of money for escorting and/or giving someone sex. Suddenly, imaging all the money she'd make, she envisioned having her house painted, the leaky roof fixed, and buying a new car. Then, bursting her fairytale bubble, suddenly jealous, she figured that she wasn't the only one. She had to ask him the question.

"How many other woman are you running in your stable?"

She looked at him with nervousness. Maybe working for Malcolm was akin to taking a leap from the frying pan to the fire. Maybe he'd be worse that working for Larry. Maybe acting so nice now, he'd beat her later.

"Other woman? Stable? I don't have any other women. I don't have a stable. If you accept, I'll just have," he said with a laugh.

"I don't understand."

"What's to understand? I'm offering you a job and a way away from Larry."

She's always been good at reading people but, a bit perplexed after receiving mixed signals from him, she was having a difficult time reading him. 

"If you have a successful automotive accessories business, then why do you need money from an escort business on the side? How much can you possibly make having only one woman in your escort service? It's doesn't seem worth your while to--"

"Money? You misunderstand. I don't want any of your money. I can assure you," he said with his big laugh, "I don't need your money or anymore money. I have more money than I know that to do with. I'm a millionaire many times over. I give much of my money away to friends and family, even to deserving strangers, especially if I know it will give them a foot up in helping them to take care of themselves." He touched her hair and continued moving his hand down and across while allowing his fingers to brush her cheek. "Specializing in high end cars and giving my customers unparalleled customer service, the automotive accessory business has been very good to me."

"Then, I don't understand, Malcolm," said June.

"What's to understand? Think of me as your benefactor instead of your pimp. Think of yourself as a companion instead of a whore. Whatever you earn you keep. You don't have to split what you earn with me in the way you must split with Larry. What you make escorting my friends is your business and your money. What I guarantee you that Larry can't is your safety. Trust me. I know some bad people. No one will dare hurt or abuse you while you're in my care. I can promise you that. You're days of being afraid are over."

"Okay, you sold me. I'm interested but I'm confused." She looked at him again. "If you don't want money, what do you get out of our business arrangement?"

"What do I get? I get a lot. I finally get what I want that I haven't been able to get with Larry. I pick who you will be with when. Unless you fall in love and want to stop our mutually beneficial arrangement, part of our private agreement is that for the time you work for me, you must abstain from sex. You can't be with anyone else other than with who I choose."

"Okay, I can do that," said June. "Other than who you tell me to have sex with, I agree not to have sex with anyone else," she said still looking at him with confusion. "Unless you're just trying to help me and being nice to me, I still don't understand what your angle is."

"Here's my angle. After you've finished with a client, once you've relaxed and refreshed yourself from your sexual adventure, we'll meet and you'll tell me everything that happened and you'll answer all of my questions, no matter how unimportant and/or inane they may seem to you."

"Seriously? Is that all?"

"That's it," said Malcolm.

"Sorry for my disbelief. Let me get this straight," she said looking at him as if he was crazy. "You'll buy me a new wardrobe of clothes, pay to send me to a spa, and protect me while I'm servicing your friends and making more money in just a few hours than I can make in a month?"

"Yes," said Malcolm with a smile. "All I want out of our arrangement is some straight, sexy, dirty talk."

"Okay. I get it," she said, "I'm starting to understand your motive."

"For me, it's more exciting that I personally know the men you're with while listening to you talk about what you did with them. Asking you questions and hearing your answers would be much more erotically arousing than watching any porn movie."




Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 09



"More exciting than experiencing it yourself?"

"Oh, yes."

"Why don't you just videotape the room?"

"I could do that and I may do that, but watching it and hearing it is not enough for me to feel what you felt while having sex with the men that I choose. I need to get in your head and I can only do that if you tell me all that happened and what you were feeling as it was happening. I told you, I'm into talking and not doing. Talking and listening to you is what sexually arouses me. Talking is what I want. Through your words and emotions, I prefer creating my own images than watching them unfold on television or experiencing them myself in a bedroom."

"Okay, I get it. I do. Whatever floats your boat, Malcolm," she said with a shrug. "I can do whatever it is you want. I can have sex with your friends and I can tell you everything that happened and how I was feeling as it happened. Yet..."

"Yet, what?"

"Why me? There are lots of women out there who'd jump at working for you and for this kind of one-sided deal. So, what's the catch?"

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 10



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food, Chapter 10

June agrees to work for Malcolm but on one condition.

"Why you?  Well, for starters, it's not just the physical sex that lights my fire, June," said Malcolm.  "The verbal stimulation for me is just as exciting as the physical stimulation.  In my case, the verbal stimulation is more exciting than the physical stimulation.  My problem has always been that not all women, who do what you do, have the creative intelligence enough to cerebrally satisfy me."

"I see," she said.  "For a man so big and so strong, you seem to be wired more like a woman than a man, Malcolm," she said with a sexy smile.  "With men more visual and women more emotional, much like you in that regard, women require more cerebral stimulation than do men."

"Having my brain sexually stimulated is more exciting to me than having a woman making my cock hard with her hand and/or mouth.  Preferably and even so much as not seeing nor knowing what the woman looked like and with neither of us allowed to touch the other, I'd almost prefer being in a pitch, black room with a woman who has a sexy voice and a dirty mind as her only tools to stimulate me."

"Interesting," said June.

"She'd talk dirty to me as I masturbated to her words," he said looking at her as if afraid she'd think less of him for the confession of his sexual fetish.  "If there was a way to arrange that kind of erotic interplay without having me come off creepy, I would.  Only, I don't know how to do that other than to look for a woman who is willing and able to satisfy my needs," he said looking deeply in her eyes.  "I think I found that woman in you."

"Actually, being with you in a dark room with just my voice to arouse you, albeit challenging, sounds like fun, Malcolm.  I'd love to try something like that with you sometime.  I'd love for my words to be so sexually arousing that I can make you cum without touching you," she said with a sexy smile.  "Wow.  How hot is that?"

"See?  That's what I mean and that's why I like you, June.  You understand what a man wants and what a man needs without questioning his desires and passing judgment on his fetishes to make him feel guilty."

"There's nothing for you to feel guilty about, Malcolm.  Words whispered in your ear can be just as arousing as a tit in your hand or, in my case, a cock in my mouth.  Sometimes sexy thoughts are more stimulating than getting laid.  Think of dirty talk as mental foreplay without the physical interaction," said June.  

"You get it!  That's exactly what I mean, June.  I imagine a woman as beautiful as you with a voice as sexy as your voice playing through the speakers in my house.  No matter where I am, in the bedroom, in the kitchen, in the living room, or in the bathroom, and even in my car, I'd hear her sexy voice in my head enticing me to pleasure myself to her arousing words," he said closing his eyes as if imagining his sexual fantasy.

"Of course the problem becomes when you prefer one over the other.  There needs to be a healthy balance of dirty talk and physical sex.  I'll have to work on that with you," she said grabbing his cock through his pants.

"I'm willing to work with you on that, June," he said opening his eyes with a smile.

"Relax," she said in her sexiest voice.  "Allow me to excite you with my voice without touching you with my hands or mouth," she said moving her hand away from his bulge.  "Think of me as June, your personal, erotic computer you had installed in your house for your sexual, listening pleasure," she said looking at him.  "I can do this Malcolm.  Maybe you could even prepare a dialogue for me to recite, different one each day.  "Maybe if there's interest enough, we can record our sexy thoughts on a computer chip and market our idea.  Imagine a blowup doll being able to talk dirty."

"I may not be interested in a blowup doll," he said with a big laugh, "but I know you can excite me with your words which is why I offered you the job," said Malcolm.  "Yet, dirty talk is not the only condition of the job."

"What other condition is there?"

"I have white friends too, of course, but all my close friends are black men," he said.  "Black men want white woman but not all white woman want black men.  I need a white woman who'd be agreeable to exclusively having sex with black men.  Much like me, all the black men I'll introduce you to are successful, educated, and respectful.  They'll treat you like the lady you are, especially if I introduce you as my special friend.  However, you must never tell them that you're reporting everything they did with you to me.  I prefer them thinking that I'm your man and am sharing you with them and not spying on them for my sexual pleasure, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I understand what you mean.  You're the man," said June with a chuckle and giving his package a gentle squeeze while lightly teasing the head of his prick with her finger.  "Only..."

"Yes?  Only what?"  He looked at her affection.

"You're the first black man that I've ever been with and even now, with you refusing to have sex with me and only wanting to talk about sex, I still haven't experienced what it's like to be with a black man," she said with a laugh.  Still playing the professional call girl, she decided not to tell him that she was horny and hot for him.  "If your friends are much like you, considerate and kind, then I don't see a problem with me having sex with them or with you, especially with you and especially with them helping me to earn a nice living.  I'm not a racist, Malcolm.  I'm a woman who's been sexually neglected all of her adult life.  I'm a woman who's looking forward to making up for all that I lost by having some hot sex."

"I know that, June.  Just as I know you're not a racist, I know you have needs too.  Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here with me, a supersized, black man while wearing what your wearing," he said with a booming laugh.

"Only, I'd prefer experiencing being with a black man first before agreeing to only exclusively having sex with black men," she said looking up at him while rubbing her hand along his bulging erection.  "Since you're here with me now, alone in the back of your car, as any good pimp would, I mean, benefactor, why can't you break my interracial cherry and personally show me what it's like to be with a black man?  I'd like to know what it's like to be with you sexually."  She looked at him with as much sexual excitement as she did curiosity.  "I'm curious to know."

There was an uncomfortable pause where they looked at one another.  Knowing that he'd never make the first move, based on his sexual peccadillo that he'd rather just talk and listen than to have sex with a woman, June leaned over and kissed him on the lips.  When he didn't pull away or push her away, she parted his reluctant lips with her tongue.  With her fingers already toying with the head of his cock through his pants, she slid her hand down to feel the rest of his growing erection while French kissing him.

"No, June, please, stop.  You mustn't," said Malcolm putting his hand over hers.  "Damn, you're such a hot woman.  I've never been with anyone like you before.  It's so hard to say no to you."

"Then don't say no.  Go with the flow, Malcolm.  Please?  Think of my sucking your cock as a practice run for me to see if what they say is true."

"And what do they say?"  He laughed.

"Once you go black, you never go back," she said with a chuckle.

"Take my word for it.  Think of black men as sexual vampires.  It's true.  Once you go black, you'll never go back," he said returning her chuckle.  "They'll own your white ass with their big, black cocks."

"I wish you'd let me do something for you," she said moving her fingers beneath his hand.  When he allowed her to move her fingers, giving her an opened door with his passive, albeit silent agreement, she knew that he wanted more.  "Besides, wouldn't you get more out of me telling you what happened between you and your friends, if you've already experienced me for yourself?"  She looked at him and smiled.  "Think of having sex with me as necessary research for you to more enjoy the visualization of my words."

"You do make a strong argument, June, but I can't.  I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"I told you already.  It's not the intimate sex that I want; it's the dirty talking that I need.  As if in a constant state of foreplay with dirty, pillow talk or in a continual state of afterglow arousal with sexy banter, it's the talking about the sex and not the actually act that does it for me," he said.

"Must our relationship have to be so sexually one-sided.  I have needs, too, Malcolm and, after all of his talking about sex and with my hand feeling your enormous cock through your pants, I'm pretty frigging horny right now.  I'm human, too, you know," she said lightly touching his hardening prick with her fingers while wondering what more she could say to change his mind to have sex with her.  "What if I gave you a running, dirty talking dialogue while giving your hot sex?  What if I included both as a way to light your fire?"

"That might work," he said.  "I'm willing to give that a try, if you are."

As if giving her a reluctant, conciliatory consent when he removed his hand from his her hand, she continued gently moving her hand over his big bulge through his pants.  He looked down to watch her feel his cock through his trousers.

"Do you like it when I touch you like this?"  She looked up at him and asked another question when he didn't answer the first one.  "Do you like it when I feel your cock through your pants?"

Again, he didn't answer her.  Instead, he looked up from what she was doing to look at her before quickly looking back down again at her feeling his prick.  Apparently, as was his idea of sex, was one-sided, his idea of dirty talking was one-sided too.  Obviously he'd rather listen than participate in the dirty talking dialogue.

"How does it feel when I touch you like this, Malcolm?"  Feeling the girth of him, she lightly squeezed his bulge with her fingers while running her fingertips over the head of his cock again.  "As much as you need dirty talk, I do too," she said hinting for him to join in their backseat pillow talk and tell her something erotically provocative enough to get her in the mood, even though she was already in the mood to suck him.  

Again, as if he suddenly lost his ability to verbally communicate, he didn't answer her.  As if he was a nervous teenager about to have his first sexual experience with a woman and with her playing the part of an aggressive prostitute, he just stared down watching her hand and her fingers feeling his cock.  For such a big man, he was so submissively respectful.  For such a big man, he was so sexually shy.  Needing to feel him respond to her loving affection and sexual attention, she leaned to him and kissed him again.  She never thought this gentle giant would be so passive.  She never thought he'd be so sexually stunted to only want to talk and not do.

"Do you like it when I kiss you?"  She waited for him to answer before kissing him again and before asking him another question.  Hoping he'd answer, she was playing his game after all.

"Yes," he said finally but only giving her a one word, one syllable answer.

She leaned into him and kissed him again.  This time, more cooperative but without fully returning her kiss, he allowed her to part his lips more easily.

"Touch me," she said.  "Feel me."

When he didn't respond by volunteering his hand, she lifted his big, left hand and placed it on her right breast.  Not moving it away, when he left his hand there and gently felt her breast through her blouse and her bra as if he was feeling a ripe melon, she knew she had him where she wanted him.  Still fondling his cock through his pants as he fondled her breast through her clothes, she felt his cock grow bigger and harder with the feel of her tit and the erection of her nipple.  Definitely, she assumed, by Malcolm's obvious sexual excitement, he was a breast man and June had beautiful, shapely, and firm breasts with big nipples.  So, he wasn't all talk after all, she now knew.

With him not objecting and by his obvious sexual excitement with hers matching his, she leaned forward and moved her hand higher to unzip him.  With her fingertips poised on his zipper ready to pull him open as if he was can of male meat and with him more preoccupied with her body than with her fingers, she watched his eyes dart down to look at what she was showing with her bloused so unbuttoned, her cleavage so exposed, and her skirt raised so high.  With him French kissing her and feeling her breast, as if trying not to make a sound and as if he was sleeping, she didn't want him suddenly becoming aware that he was being unzipped.  Slowly and stealthily, not wanting to frighten the big man with her sexual aggressiveness, as if secretly opening the combination lock to a safe, she slowly and silently unzipped his pants again.

He didn't resist her undressing him this time.  Instead, he watched her unzip him.  Such a tall man, he had a much bigger zipper than a smaller man and much longer zipper than her husband's familiar, normal sized zipper.  Unzipping him was as if watching a zipper parody played on Saturday Night Live with the sound that a small zipper makes versus the louder and longer sound of a much bigger zipper.  Once she unzipped him, once his sexual safe was unlocked and gaping wide open, she reached her hand inside his pants and felt his big, black, hard prick through his underwear.  Just as was he so big on the outside, his cock was huge on the inside too.

As if holding onto a thick pole or a piece of pipe, she moved her hand along the length of him to answer her unasked question.  With the feel of him telling her what she needed to know, his cock was comparable in proportion to his height.  She looked up at him with obvious sexual excitement by the monstrous feel of him.  His prick felt as big as he looked.  Finally, his passion for her made him return her kiss while he fingered her nipples through her blouse and bra.

"You have such a big cock, Malcolm," she said breaking off her kiss to whisper her sexy dialogue in his ear.  "I love how your penis feels beneath my hand.  I can't wait to see your cock.  I can't wait to touch your naked prick.  I can't wait to feel your hard penis.  I can't wait to suck your big dick," she said hoping that her words were exciting him as much as they were exciting her.

"Oh, June, baby, you're making me so hot with your words," he said.

Somewhat satisfied that she was making him hot, albeit only with her words, she hoped she was making him equally as hot with her hand too.

"I want to suck you, Malcolm," she said leaning forward to explore his ear with her tongue before sexily whispering her words to him.  "I need to feel your big, hard, hairy cock in my mouth.  I want you to stretch my lips wide open while humping my mouth and fucking my face," she said.  "Make me your dirty, white, bitch, Malcolm.  I want to be your cunt," she said.

Undaunted by his reluctance to have sex with her, her sexy words were his combination to his sexual vault that was still locked within.  Daring to sexually assault the giant, June reached inside his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his naked prick.  The mere touch of him excited her enough to harden her nipples more and she could feel the familiar warm, wet feeling between her legs.  Ever so slowly, she stroked him to a harder erection while kissing him as he felt her breasts through her blouse and fingered her nipples through her bra.  Wondering just how big this whale of a monster would get, she pulled out the top portion of his cock and stared down at him.  As if his prick was an iceberg with the biggest part of it still submerged in his underwear, she could only imagine how big he was.

As if she was reaching her hand in a snake pit or taking hold of an eel at a fish store, pulsating. throbbing, and twitching, his cock came alive in her hand.  The first time finally seeing his prick, the first time seeing and holding a black cock in her soft, small hand, and the first time holding a cock so big, his cock was enormous.  Without doubt, even though her sexual experience was limited to her husband, John, and her pimp, Larry, Malcolm's cock was not only the biggest cock she ever held in her hand and but also the biggest cock she had ever seen.  His cock was so much bigger than the CFNM strippers she saw on stage when she attended a birthday party for one of her girlfriends.  She wondered if his cock would even fit in her mouth.  She wondered if his cock would fit in her pussy.  She wondered what her beautiful, black man looked like naked.

"Oh, Malcolm, your cock is beautiful.  You have such a wonderful prick.  I love how big it is.  I love feeling the power of you in my hand.  Look at me holding you.  You make my hand look so small in comparison to your cock.  It's so hard," she said slowly stroking him.  "I love how big you are.  I love how hard you are.  I love how you feel in my hand."  She looked from his prick to him.  "Do you like me touching you and feeling you in this way?"  

"That feels so good, June, but tell me more.  Being that I prefer dirty talk to the actual sex, talk dirty to me.  Also tell me that you'll work for me so that we can continue this discussion on a regular basis," he said looking down at his giant prick in her little hand.

"I'll agree to work for you only under only one condition," she said removing her stare from him to look back down at his magnificent prick while slowly stroking him and before looking back up at him.  

"What's that?"  Malcolm looked up from her stroking his cock to look at her.

"Every time we get together, before I sexually satisfy you with my words, before I talk dirty to you by telling you what I did to your friends' cocks and what they did to my naked body, you must promise to satisfy me with your big, black cock.  My condition is that you must give me what I sexually need with your cock before I give you what you cerebrally need with my words."  

He stared at her before looking down again at her hand holding him and stroking him while her fingers fondled the head of his prick.  He gave her a thoughtful nod and with that, she slowly slid her body down, unbuttoned and unbuckled his pants, and pushed down his underwear enough to pull out the rest of his supersized cock and giant testicles.  She stared at his cock while stroking it, kissing it, and licking it.

"Do you like it when I kiss and lick your big prick, Malcolm?"  She asked looking up at him with her big, green eyes while kissing and licking his prick.

"Yes," again, as if a reluctant guest on Leno or Letterman, he answered with a one syllable word.

"Tell me what you want," she said.

"No, you tell me what you want to do to me and my prick, June," he said giving her a wide smile.  "That's the deal.  I need you to talk dirty to me and not the other way around."

"Obviously, Malcolm, I want to fondle the head of your prick with my fingertips," she said staring down at his cock while fondling him and before looking up at him again with her big, bright, green eyes.  "Does that feel good when I do that?"

"Yes," he said.

Ready for the challenge, apparently getting Malcolm to open up more would take some time.

"Obviously, I want to stroke your big prick in my little hand," she said slowly stroking him while alternating her focus from his cock to his brown eyes.  She gave him a sexy smile.  "Tell me, do you like it when I stroke your prick, Malcolm?" 

"Yes," he said as if he was a foreigner and the only word he knew of English was yes.

"Obviously, I want to kiss your cock and lick your cock.  I want to feel, fondle, and cup your big, balls while licking them.  I want to stroke your cock while sucking your cock.  Would you like for me to do all of that to your cock?"




Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 10



"Yes, June, I'd love for your to kiss and lick my cock.  I love for you to feel, fondle, and cup my balls while licking them.  I'd love for you to stroke my cock while sucking my cock," he said.

Some modicum of success, even though he repeated what she had just said word for word.  Nonetheless, she earned more of a response from him than just yes.  Suddenly, feeling as if she was controlling him with her hand and about to control him with her mouth, she enjoyed playing this sexy game of erotic questions and answers.  Excited by the anticipation of his next answer, she kissed and licked his prick while formulating her next question.

"Do you want me to put your big, black prick in my mouth?"  

"Yes," he said looking in her eyes.

"Do you want me to suck you, Malcolm?"

"Yes," he said staring at her holding his cock in her hand.

"Tell me.  Say the words, Malcolm.  Tell me what you want.  Tell me what to do," said June staring up at the big man.

"I want you to take my big, black prick in your little mouth and suck me, June, while I hump your beautiful mouth and fuck your gorgeous face," said Malcolm with obvious sexual excitement.

"Before I take you in my mouth, Malcolm," said June teasing him.  "You must promise me something first," she said torturing him.

"What's that, June?  What is it you need me to promise you before you suck my cock?"  He brushed away some of her long, chestnut hair that fell forward in her face.  He looked at her as if he was in love with her.  "I need to see your pretty face while you suck my cock," he said.  "You're so beautiful.  You're so sexy."

Taking his hint, as if she was a beautiful filly getting ready to run a slow race of seduction instead of a fast horserace, she tossed her hair back with a flip of her head and smiled up at him with her big, green eyes.

"I love it when you do that," he said reaching his big hand out to stroke her beautiful hair.  "That's so hot and you have such beautiful, shiny hair."

"Do what?  What's so hot?"

"I find it so erotically and sexually arousing when you toss your hair back like that with a flip of your pretty head.  Now whenever I need to, I can visualize you tossing back your hair before getting ready to suck me.  Now that I have that visual forever etched in my mind to replay later of you flipping back your beautiful, long hair, you just gave me a memory that I'm unable to create unless I've seen it for myself.  I thank you for that and I thank you for convincing me to have sex with you," said Malcolm.

"You're welcome,  It's my pleasure," she said with a laugh. 

"Sorry for interrupting you but what was it that you wanted me to promise you before you suck me?"

"You must promise me, Malcolm..."

"Yes?"

"Promise me that you won't hold back."

"Hold back?  What do you mean, June?  What you see is what you get with me.  I'm as honest as I'm open," he said looking at her with as much sexual lust as he was looking at her with romantic love.

"Yes, I know that about you and I love that about you but that's not what I meant."

Oh, oh, she said the L word.  It just slipped out.  She wondered if he noticed her faux pas.  In the way she was looking at him and in the way that she was pandering over him, she wondered if he now thought that she loved him.  Maybe she did love him.  She didn't know.  Maybe, more than just sex, what they had was love at first sight.  Accustomed to being abused by her husband and not being fully appreciated by her pimp, she could easy fall in love with Malcolm, a man who treats her with kindness, attentiveness, and respect.

"What did you mean about me holding back?"

"Promise me that when I make you so aroused with my hand, my mouth, and my tongue," she said kissing and licking his cock, "that you'll cum in my mouth.  I need to taste you, Malcolm.  I need to feel your warm, oozy cum splash against the back of my throat," she felt his cock throb in her hand with her words.

"Don't worry, June.  I don't think there's a man alive who could hold back from cumming in your beautiful mouth while you're sucking him," said Malcolm with a laugh.

"One more thing," she said with a sexy smile and tossing her hair back again if only for the benefit of his visual recall later.

"Yes?  What is it June?"

"Would you mind terribly if I swallowed your cum instead of making a mess by spitting?"  She looked up at him and smiled.

"It wouldn't be a much of a blowjob unless I ejaculated in your mouth and you swallowed, now would it?"  He touched her cheek before leaning his big, upper body down to kiss her.  "If it will make you happy for me to cum in your mouth, June, and for you to swallow me, who am I to deny you that pleasure?"

"Thank you, Malcolm."

Slowly, as if opening her mouth wider for her dentist, she took his giant, black cock inside her mouth.  She never had a black man's cock in her mouth before.  She never had a cock this big in her mouth before.  The girth of his cock stretched her lips.  Suddenly, she felt how a snake must feel when swallowing a much larger animal.  When she wrapped her hand around his dick, she could barely touch her fingers around.  She pulled him from her mouth to look at it.  He must have been 10 inches long and 5 or 6 inches around.  As soon as she took him in her mouth, she was excited.  She was wet.  She looked up at him watching her suck him before removing his prick from his mouth to speak.

"Do you like watching me suck you?"

"Yes," he said.

While staring up at him, she flicked out her tongue again to lick the head of his dick and the length of his cock before she continued blowing him.  She could feel his excitement throbbing and stiffening in her mouth.  As if measuring his excitement with her hand and with her mouth by the pulsations of his cock, she received pleasure in controlling his excitement by wrapping her hand around his cock and gently stroking him.  Moving her hand up and down faster, she sucked him while swirling her tongue around the tip of his big dick.  He was so big.  He was so hard.  He was so powerful.  He was so beautiful.

"Touch me," she said again and removing his cock from her mouth to speak.  She watched him touching her before she resumed sucking him.

She felt Malcolm's big fingers unbutton the rest of her blouse and when he reached his hand inside to feel her breasts and finger her nipples through her bra, she was aroused.  Then, when he inserted his big hand inside her bra.  She could feel his breathing change and she knew that she was getting to him with her mouth, lips, and tongue as much as he was getting to her with his cock and his hand.  With his hand too big to comfortably fit between her bra and her tit, glad that she had worn a front snapping bra, she removed his cock from her mouth to sit up and unsnap her bra.  Sitting up straighter, she stuck out her chest.  It was so sexually exciting to watch him staring at her breasts.

"Do you like my tits?"  She looked down at her naked tits before looking up at him.

"You have beautiful breasts, June."

"Touch me, Malcolm.  Feel me as if I were your lover and you were making love to me," she said suddenly feeling so vulnerable that she exposed her loneliness and unhappiness to him.  "Cup my breasts in your big hands and finger my nipples."

Using both hands, he took both of her breasts in his hands while fingering her nipples.

"Slowly run your palms across my nipples," she said as if she was his sexual education teacher and he was her student.  "Finger my nipples, Malcolm.  I like having my nipples fingered.  I like having my nipples, pulled, turned, and twisted," she said leaning back down in his lap to suck him, while he pulled, turned, and twisted her nipples.

"Malcolm, your cock is so big.  I love sucking you."  As soon as she said that, she could feel him become more excited.  "I love blowing you.  I love feeling your big, hard cock in my warm, wet mouth," she said removing his cock from her mouth to speak and reinserting it again before removing it again.  "I can't wait for you to cum in my mouth.  I can't wait to taste you.  I can't wait to swallow you."

"Oh, baby, this is so wrong."

"Cum for me, Malcolm.  Cum.  I can't wait to feel you explode in my mouth," she said sensing his sudden resistance that disappeared with her every sexual word she said, with every fast stroke she gave, and with every deep suck and tongue swirl she delivered.  Stroking him faster while sucking him deeper, she felt the excited results of him in her hand and in her mouth.  Verbally validated, she knew that it was her words that controlled him more than her actions.  

"Oh, June, baby, suck my cock, honey.  Suck me," he said putting a gentle hand to the back of her head.

"I want you to cum in my mouth, Malcolm.  Cum for me," she said removing his cock in and out of her mouth to speak.  "I want you to shoot your warm, oozy, load down my throat.  I want to swallow all of your cum.  I want you to hump my mouth and fuck my face as I suck you," she said stroking him faster and harder while sucking him deeper.  "Then, after you cum in my mouth," she said looking up at him to give him a sexy look.  "I want you to save some cum to cum again all over my face.  Give me a cum bath Malcolm.  Make me your cum bath bitch.  Now go ahead and stick your big finger up my warm, wet pussy as I continue sucking you."

She pulled his hand down and put it up beneath her short skirt and, obediently as if he were a boy instead of a man having sex for the first time, he obeyed.  His big index finger pushed her panty aside, teased her clit, and felt her wetness.  Finger fucking her with one, long, thick finger as he teased her clit with the other, no longer talking, she was too busy sucking.  The harder she sucked him and the faster she stroked him, the more excited he became.  Until he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head forward and down in his lap.  Putting a big, heavy hand to the back of her head, he thrust up his hips to hump her mouth while fucking her face.  As if a canon shot, he exploded a volley of cum in her mouth.

"Oh, Malcolm," said June after she accepted and swallowed his warm, slimy goop. "Oh, Malcolm," she cooed running her tongue over her lips.  Then, as soon as she removed him from her mouth, as if a surprise attach, he shot a second load of cum all over her face and tits.

"Oh, my God, June, what have you done?  I'm so very sorry.  This is so wrong.  I can't believe you blew me.  I can't believe you sucked me off.  I can't believe you swallowed my cum.  I can't believe I gave you a cum bath.  Look at you.  You're a mess.  You have my cum everywhere," he said with a laugh.

"Don't worry, Malcolm.  What happened here is our dirty, little secret."  After she wiped his cum from her face, hair, and tits with some tissues, she took his big face between her hands and kissed him.  "Okay?  It's our secret.  So long as I tell you what everyone else does, no one needs to know what we do."  She laughed,  "And the next time we're together, I want you to fuck me with that big tool.  I want you to pound my pussy and part my clam with you black kielbasa.  I want to experience that big, black cock deep in my cunt.  Only, with you being so big" she said with a laugh, "I'll be on top."

Malcolm drove June home.  Making sure she made it safely home, he let her out at the top of her street and watched her as she walked to her house.

"Bye, Malcolm. Thanks for the great evening," she said smiling and waving him good-bye.

"You have my card.  Call me and we'll talk more about our future plans," he said out his open car window as he slowly drove away.

As June neared her house, she saw her husband's pickup truck parked in the driveway.  When she opened the front door, he was there waiting for her explanation of who she was with and where she was.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 11



Chapter 11

Home sweet home, safe at last, June has an unexpected visitor. 

June opened her front door to her husband waiting there for her. With his eyes bulging and his face red, he was hopping mad. She hasn't seen him this mad since he lost his job and blamed everyone, the Democrats, the Republicans, the Chinese, and his mother for not forcing him to stay in school to get a college education.

"Where were you?" John looked at her with a face full of rage. "Do you know what time it is? Look at the time," he said holding up his wristwatch to her face while tapping the crystal with his index finger. "It's after midnight. Who were you with and where'd you go? Where were you?"

"None of your business," she said walking away from her to grab the keys to his truck.

"Where you going now?"

"I have to get the kids from Sally."

"I picked them up hours ago. They're upstairs sleeping," he said looking at her as if he hated her. "Some mother you are," he said making a sour face. "It's after midnight. You've been gone for hours. I know because I got here a little after eight o'clock and you weren't here. No one was here. So I called Sally and she said you went out but she wouldn't tell me where."

"I'm a better mother than you ever were a father to those kids," she said looking at him with as much hate as he had for her. "Some father you are fucking my mother, not working, not even looking for a job, and getting drunk every day. How long have you been fucking my mother? How long has she been sucking your cock?"

"Don't you be asking me questions before you answer mine. Answer my questions. Who were you with, where were you, and what were you doing?"

"I'll answer your questions after you answer my questions, John. How's that?" If her look could kill, he'd be dead. "While I was gone, did you fuck my old, bitch of a fat mother today again? Did you suck her big, saggy breasts? Did your dirty fingers finger her smelly pussy? Did you lick her cunt with your alcohol laced breath? Did you bend my mother over and fuck her like the animals you both are? Did you push her down to her knees for her to blow you and for you to cum in her mouth?"

"I'm not answering any of your stupid questions," he said walking away from her but she followed him and stayed in his face.

"Tell me, John, tell me. While I was gone and you were alone, did my mother suck your little cock? Did she blow you? Did you put your hand to the back of my mother's head and cum in her mouth or weren't you able to get up an erection again? Answer me this, John, are you happier with my old mother instead of her young daughter?" She looked at him waiting for him to answer her questions but he ignored her.

"I'm done with all of that monkey business. I haven't seen your mother since you caught us together and threw us out of the house," he said with defiance.

"You're drunk now, aren't you, you drunk? Did you drive to Sally's house drunk to pick up my children, you sack of drunken shit? I can tell by how you parked your truck that you drove drunk," she said hoping he drive away drunk so that she could call the police on him. "Isn't one DUI isn't enough for you? Get another one and they'll suspend your license again or throw your ass in jail again should you injure or kill someone."

She was glad that her mother wasn't there. She was glad she didn't walk in on them again fucking and sucking. She would have really lost it had her mother been there having sex with her husband. She wondered how long it's been going on and how many times they had sex. Yet, none of that mattered now. She just wanted him out of her house and them out of her life for good.

Even though she tried not to care, she was still hurt by him cheating on her, especially with her mother, of all people. If he cheated with anyone else, a co-worker, a neighbor, or one of her friends, she may have forgiven him but she'd never forgive him after he cheated on her with her mother. As if cheating with her mother was his way to get back at her for some unknown reason, it worked. The vision of the both of them drunk, naked, and in bed together washed across her mind as if she was having a bad nightmare while still awake.

"Fuck you, bitch. Where've you been?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"None of your fucking business. You're not my husband anymore. Your just some unemployed, drunken loser, who'd rather have incestuous sex with his mother than having a normal, sexual relationship with his wife."

"Maybe if you gave me more support, I wouldn't drink?"

"Give you more support? I did everything for you, John, but wipe your ass. All you had to do was to fall out of bed and go to work. All you had to do was to bring home a paycheck to save us from foreclosure. All you had to do was to stop drinking. You washed your hands of everything else, me, the kids, and the house because you're supposedly working too hard all day, so hard that your company discovered they could do without your lazy ass and shit canned you."

"Maybe if you gave me sex, I wouldn't have to have sex with your mother. She cares about me more than you do."

"Maybe if you had stopped drinking long enough to maintain an erection, we would have had more sex but you'd rather drink than fuck," she said.

He looked at her as if he had just noticed how she was dressed. Her skirt was so short, too short and short enough that she'd flash her panties if she sat. He'd never allow her out of the house wearing a skirt so short. Her blouse was half unbuttoned and her cleavage and bra were showing. Again, as if she was his teenage daughter instead of his wife, he'd never allow her to go anywhere looking like that, especially with all the makeup she was wearing.

"Where did you go dressed like that? You're dressed like a whore? Where's you get those clothes? I don't remember you having those clothes. You never wore those clothes for me. You never dressed like that for me. Look at her, just look at you," he said flicking a finger at her low cut and partially unbuttoned blouse.

"Saving them for your sorry ass, all these clothes are clothes that I had for years and that I had hidden in the back of my closet. Maybe if you took me out somewhere without me having to beg you to take me to a movie or hound you to come shopping with me, I would have dressed sexy for you. Only, you'd rather drink with the boys at the bar than to take me out for a drink or for a nice dinner. Being that you'd rather be with men than with your woman, maybe you're gay," she said with a victorious smile.

"Fuck you. I'm not gay," he said changing the subject. "I saw a car. Did someone give you a ride home? Who was he? Was it a man? Was he one of your Johns? What were you doing at this hour? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to us?"

"Why am I doing this? Why am I earning money? Because you won't get a job. Because you won't bring home some money. Because all you do all day is drink, play video games, and fuck my mother, I have to do what I need to do to make a living to keep this house and to feed and clothe our kids." She looked at him with hatred instead of love and non-caring instead of understanding. 

"Is that what you call making a living by sucking and fucking men? Is that what you call making a living by selling sex for money? Is that what you call making a living by disgracing yourself? I know what you're doing," he said pointing a shaky finger of accusation at her. "You're fucking and sucking men, aren't you? You call it making a living, I call it sucking men's cocks for money. I call you a prostitute, a hooker, and a whore. You fucking whore." He stepped closer to her.

"Back the fuck off, John. I mean it or I'll coldcock you one," she shoved him back with a stiff arm. "Get the fuck away from me. You stink. When did you shower last, you drunk?"

He stepped closer as he asked more questions.

"Did you blow them, whore? How many cocks have you sucked. Did they gangbang you? Did you let them cum in your pretty little mouth? Did you talk dirty to them in the way you used to talk dirty to me? Look at all this shit? What is all this shit? What's with all the lipstick, June? Lipstick on the dipstick, is that it?" He grabbed her face in his hand, squeezed her lips together, and smudged her lipstick all over her face with his palm until she pushed him away.

"Don't touch me!" She shoved him away again and he stepped forward again.

"Did you fuck them, whore? Did they cum in your pussy?" He reached his hand beneath her short skirt and cupped her panty clad pussy in his hand and squeezed. "How much did you make tonight fucking and sucking men?"

"Get the fuck away from me," she said swinging a hard, fast fist at his forearm to break his hold of her cunt. "Yeah, I'd rather be a fucking whore and have men cum in my mouth and in my pussy than to be with an unemployed drunk who refuses to provide for his wife and kids and who fucks his mother. Why don't you just leave? Go! Get out! Leave! I don't want you anymore. This marriage is so over. We're done. We're through."

"This is my house too," he said. "I don't have any other place to go but here," he said looking at her with sadness.

"Why don't you just go home to your own mother and fuck her instead of my mother. Or have you already fucked your mother which is why your fucking my mother now. Is that it, John? Are you a motherfucker? Not only are you a cunt but also you're a motherfucker, motherfucker."

"How dare you talk to me like that, bitch!"

"Motherfucker," she said spitting out the word as if spitting at him.

He ran to her and slapped her hard across the face, so hard that she fell back and hit the back of her head on the coffee table as she fell. As if a struggling beetle that has fallen on its back, once she was helplessly and defensively on her back and on the carpeted floor, too dazed and disoriented to get back up, as if he was a rapist and he was, he was all over her tearing off her clothes.

"You fucking whore," he yelled slapping her across her face again. "You fucking whore," he yelled ripping open her blouse and exposing her bra. "You fucking whore," he yelled pulling down and off her skirt. "You dirty cunt," he said tearing off her blouse until she was on the floor beneath him in just her bra and bikini panty.

She struggled against the weight of him, but he was too big and too strong and she was too weak from hitting her head and from him slapping her. When he reached for her bra, they struggled, but he managed to unsnap it to expose her breasts. He squeezed her breasts as hard as he could with both hands, hard enough to make her scream in pain and to bring tears to her eyes.

"Get off of me! Let go over me! Take your fucking hands off of me, you filthy pig!"

"You fucking whore," he said slapping her everywhere, her face, her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs.

Slapping and slapping her as if slapping his frustration with being unemployed and separated from the only thing that gave him an identity and a reason to live, he took all his frustration out on the only person he once truly loved. He reached down and, in one fluid motion, tore off her panty. Now naked and with the weight of him still on her, he undid his pants, pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees, spread her legs with his knees, and mounted her. He started dry humping her before he licked his fingers and was able to part her lips open enough with his fingers to fuck her. When she resisted, he started choking her. When he couldn't get an erection, he banged her head on the carpet in frustration. When she fought back, he choked her harder.

"I'll kill you, you fucking bitch. I fucking kill you, you whore. Die, cunt, die."

June tried pushing against him, but he was too strong, too enraged, and too crazy. She was never so afraid for her life as she was now. He was determined to kill her. She was going to die and there was nothing she could do to save herself.

With her life flashing before her eyes, she saw happier times with him. She thought of when they first met, when they were married, and being so happy to buy a house and start a family. She thought of her children. Only, starting to blackout, as if a flower prematurely dying before it fully bloomed, losing consciousness, she was fading.

With him chocking her and with him tightening his grip around her neck, unable to swallow, she couldn't breathe. Using the last bit of energy she had before she was gone, she kicked and flailed her body but all to no avail. With her weighing only 125 pounds and him weighing 200 pounds, she didn't have the strength to move him off of her. If she couldn't move him off of her and if she couldn't stop him from chocking her, then she was going to die.

In all the raucous uproar, John never heard Malcolm pull up behind his pickup truck carrying her lost tube of lipstick that he found on the floor of his car. He never saw Malcolm's giant body slowly lumber up the front steps as if a dark, avenging Angel coming to give John the justice he deserved. With all the commotion going on inside, he never heard Malcolm banging on the front door, ringing the doorbell, and rattling the doorknob. He never saw Malcolm until the door that he smashed off the hinges with a big shoulder hit him in the back while he was choking, sexually assaulting, and trying to kill June.

As if he was a focused linebacker intent on picking up a fumble, Malcolm had a face full of rage. No doubt, with him having a dark side too, it was probably the same face full of rage that he had when he shot and killed his two brothers for raping his sister, Lucille. Now here before him was a man beating, chocking, and raping his June. Life is funny sometimes and history certainly does repeat itself, but thank God for men like Malcolm.

He had no idea who this man fucking, slapping, chocking, and yelling at June was. Never having met her husband, he didn't know if he was her husband, a client, a home invader, or a psycho. She told him that she had thrown her husband out of the house after she caught him having sex with her mother. She told him that she lived alone with her kids which is why he returned with her lipstick and it was a good thing he had. All he knew was that someone was hurting his June.

As if taking out the trash, he reached his strong arm down and grabbed him by the back of his belt with one massive hand. He wrapped his other hand around his neck, squeezed, and pulled him off of June. In one fluid motion, as if doing a clean and jerk with a jerk, he erected his full height and tossed John against the wall so much like a bale of hay or a human battering ram. Flying through the air head first, when her husband's head struck the wall and put a hole in the drywall, he collapsed in an unconscious heap.

"June. June. Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she said coughing through her tears. She sat up. 

"Who is he?" Malcolm looked over at him with her.

"My husband," she said sobbing in her hands. "Did you kill him? He looks dead," she said looking at her husband not moving.

"Nah," said Malcolm walking to John to give him a kick in the ribs before reaching down to feel his neck for a pulse, "I just tossed him a little is all. If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead already."

Coughing and making sounds as if he needed medical attention, when John stirred and tried to stand in the way of a drunk going against a sober and much bigger bouncer in a barroom brawl, Malcolm nudged him down again with a hip check and a shoulder shove that sent him flying against the wall again.

"Best you stay down little man before I really put the hurt to you," he said in his big, booming baritone voice.

Again, John tried standing and when he did, Malcolm pinned him against the wall. With a hand around his neck, he lifted him up off the floor and held him there as if he was hanging beef.

"Get off of me, boy," he said John struggling to break Malcolm's chokehold. "That's my wife."

"Boy? Did you just call me boy, cracker? Are you kidding me?" Towering over him by 10 inches, Malcolm wrapped a big hand around his pencil neck. "You're either blind, suicidal, or crazy calling me boy to my face?" He sniffed him. "Well, that explains it, you're drunk."

John took a swing that bounced off Malcolm's shoulder.

"You'd have to do better than that to knock me off my feet." With that, Malcolm gave him an uppercut that sent his head backward against the wall again and his butt to the floor when his knees crumbled.

Malcolm turned to June. Naked and weak, he helped her to her feet. Trying to catch her breath, she was coughing and gasping for air.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital." 

"No, I'm alright. I just need to catch my breath," she said. "If you hadn't been here, he would have killed me," she said holding her neck before giving him a hug and crying in his chest. "How did you know I needed help? Why did you return?"

"Your lipstick," he said reaching in his pocket and pulling out her lipstick. He handed it to her. "It rolled beneath my foot as I was driving."

"Oh, Malcolm, thank God for you. You're a Godsend, a real lifesaver, and my hero," she said standing on her toes to kiss his lips.

"Go on upstairs and put on some clothes," he said hugging her and kissing the top of her head after returning her kiss. "Then, grab what you need, collect your kids, and I'll take you somewhere safe. Don't worry about leaving stuff behind, whatever else you need, I'll buy you."

"But, this is my house Malcolm," she June looking around her small house.

"Not anymore it is. Trust me, I've seen this before, rather than another man have you, a guy like this will kill you than not have you."

"Thank you, Malcolm," she said covering her nakedness with her torn clothes and running upstairs. She quickly returned with two suitcases and her kids.

"Let me get you some ice," he said going in the kitchen. "You're going to have a bruise on your face where he hit you."

"I hit my head on the table too," she said holding the back of her head. "It really hurts."

He wrapped some ice in a dish towel and handed it to her.

"You have a big bump there," he said lightly touching the back of her head with his fingers. "You may have a concussion. Don't worry about the suitcases, I'll get them. You take the kids out to the car while I talk some sense to your husband."

Malcolm filled a pan with cold water and threw it on John to soak him awake.

"Get up, you miserable piece of shit," he said with a kick of his foot to his ribs before taking his big foot to hold down the side of his head.

Having not learned his lesson, John stirred and raised his head up enough to spit on him. His spit landed on his Malcolm's knee.

"You son of a bitch. These are new pants," said Malcolm looking down at his leg before looking down at the reason for his rage.

He grabbed John by the hair and pulled him up to his knees. 

"You can wipe that off with your face, you miserable piece of drunken shit." He pushed him back and John's head hit the wall again. "Now listen to me fool because what I say now is the difference in your living or dying. I don't care which." He slapped him hard across the face when John closed his eyes. "That's for hitting a woman," he said slapping him hard across the face again. "Don't pass out on me, white boy."

"Fuck you," said John still defiant in his drunkenness.

"Listen to me," said Malcolm lifting him by his hair. "If you ever try and see June or the kids again, I'll kill you. If the police ever find your dead, dismembered body, you're mother won't even recognize you after I'm done with you." He shook John's head hard by his hair. "Do you hear me cocksucker? Do you understand what I'm saying to you motherfucker?"

"Yes, I hear you. Yes, I understand. Now, just get the fuck out of my house," said John still full of drunken defiance.




Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 11



When Malcolm turned to leave, John stood and made a wild, drunken dash for the living room and for the shotgun that was mounted over the door frame and for the box of shotgun shells that were hidden on the shelve behind some books in the bookcase. John grabbed the shotgun shells first before he turned to grab the shotgun. For a big man, Malcolm could have played safety. He tackled John before he reached the shotgun and knocked him unconscious. Seeing what John was after, he reached up, and broke the shotgun in two pieces over his leg.

To be continued...



Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 12



Malcolm's business arrangement turns sour when he has second thoughts.

Arranging for temporary housing, albeit luxury accommodations, Malcolm put up June and her three children in a swanky, penthouse condominium that he owned downtown. He hired a nanny to watch the children when he needed June to service his friends. Only, wanting to give her some space and some time after what happened between her and her husband, he told her to call him when she was ready to see a client. Until then, he left her alone with her children.

"Take whatever time you want, a week, a month, however long you need. I don't care. I need you to recover. I need for you to have your head on right to focus on our mutual satisfaction agreement. I need you to feel safe and sexy. I need you to earn some money for yourself and to give me some dirty talk," he said in his deep baritone voice capped off with his big booming laugh.

In was nearly a month when June picked up the phone and called Malcolm. They hadn't seen one another since he put her up in his lofty palace. Excited to hear his voice, she couldn't wait to talk to him. She missed him. Only, she didn't want him to know that she was in love with him. Unfortunately, there's no room for love in her business. Best she back burner her feelings of love and romance until after she was done having sex for money. Maybe once she's made enough money, she can concentrate more on finding a nice guy. For now, she needed money.

"I'm ready to earn my keep, Malcolm," she said as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Not wasting any time on small talk, you're right to the point," he said laughing. "Hi, how are you?"

"I'm better thanks to you," she said without emotion.

The fear of what was to come paralyzed her. More than she felt when working for Larry, her role in life was official now. She was a professional call girl working for a rich and powerful man, a man who could protect her and keep her safe from harm. Instead of feeling relieved, instead of feeling safe, she felt nervous. What she did for fun and money with Larry was now the real deal and the big time. Just as she had much to gain, she had much to lose too.

She had better not screw this up or she'd be out of here on her ass and on the street with no job and no money. All she had to do for Malcolm to give her all that she needed to live in style was to suck and fuck black men. All she needed to do was to supply Malcolm with enough titillation that he'll allow her to continue living here while she earned lots of money. A dream deal, she didn't understand why she wasn't happier. If anything she was sad.

"Did you get all the things I sent over?"

"Yes, thank you," she said. Afraid to open some of the bags and boxes, except for the things he bought for her children, all that he bought her were still in the unopened bags and boxes. Judging them by the stores she shopped, everything he bought her was expensive. "I was going to call you to thank you and to let you know they were received, but I figured you got that information from the doorman already. Only, how did you know my sizes?" 

"I went through your things when you were taking the kids to school. My first time snooping through a woman's closet, I was glad that I didn't find anything personal," he said with his big laugh. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted to surprise you."

"You did," she said with a laugh. "With the doorman delivering packages every day for a week, it was like Christmas."

"Listen, June, even though you're the one who called me to tell me that you're ready to see clients, tell me if it's too soon. After all that you've been through, I don't want to rush you. Even though I have someone in mind, I'm willing to wait. After I told him about you, champing at the bit to meet you, I have a client who's available at a moment's notice, " he said.

"I see," she said in two words and two syllables, answering him in the way that he used to answer her, short and succinct.

Her stomach turned with the thoughts of having sex with a man she never met before. She was sick with dread to have sex with someone other than Malcolm. She realized now that she was all talk and could never do that gangbang that Larry wanted her to do. She didn't understand why she didn't feel as uncomfortable meeting Malcolm as she was feeling uncomfortable meeting someone else. Maybe because she's met Malcolm and has grown attached to him is the reason why she wished she never made this agreement with him.

Only, what else could she do? Just as she was stuck living with her drunk, unemployed husband, after Malcolm helped her and set her up here, she was tied to this arrangement. Besides, once she had sex with the first man that Malcolm arranged and once she got her feet wet, maybe she'd warm up to the idea of giving men what they needed in exchange for what she needed. It was all just sex for money, just as Malcolm had told her, she needed to get her mind right. 

"No, I'm good. I'm ready. Matter of fact," she said choosing her words carefully. She wondered if she should reveal her feelings for the big man but, diving in head first, she took the leap of faith anyway. "More than looking forward to having sex with a strange, black man," she said with a nervous laugh while hoping he'd take her not so subtle hint, "I'm more looking forward to having sex with you while telling you all about what he did to me and what I did to him."

She remained quiet while listening to hear if he'd renege on their agreement to satisfy her with his cock before she pleasures him with her words. More than the money she'd earn, more than him putting her up in this beautiful condo, she was more excited about finally having sex with him. 

"Good, good, that's good June. I'm looking forward to hearing you tell me all that happened too. I'm glad you remembered our arrangement. I was worried that blow to the head you took may have given you amnesia," he said with a big laugh. "Anyway, the man that I'd like you to meet is my best friend. I've known him all of my life. He's a good man and like me he has a big cock," he said.

This was it. Without any further ado, without any more discussion, it was all just business to him now. She's spent the last month reaping the benefits of his generosity and not it was her turn to reward him with what he wanted all along. Even though she was happy to finally earn some much needed money, even though she was excited about finally having sex with Malcolm, she was crushed that she'd first have to have sex with someone else before having sex with him.

Moreover, she now knew that he didn't want her in the way that she wanted him. If he wanted her at all, he'd never allow another man to have sex with her. She was crazy to think that he'd be interested in her. Why would he? Why should he? A poor, white, uneducated woman saddled with three, small children who turned to prostitution out of necessity to make ends meet, why would someone like him want her when he could have anyone, white, yellow, or black?

Just as she agreed, she had to service his friends. A deal was a deal and her having sex with his friends was the deal. Tragically for her, after what happened in the backseat of Malcolm's car and after the near death altercation with her husband, somewhere along the way she had lost her sexual adventurous appetite for prostitution and her lustful desire to service any man other than Malcolm for money. After he showed her the kind, generous, and caring man that he was, she had fallen for him. Just as she knew he was kind, generous, and caring, she knew too that he was dangerous should she double cross him and not go through this agreement.

She had no choice. After he arranged her safe passage and gave her a place to live, after he spent thousands of dollars on clothes for her and gifts for her children, she couldn't say no to him. She owed him. How could she deny the man who saved her life the simple sexual pleasure of what he wanted, when all that he wanted was dirty talk? How could she deny the man she loved and the man who gave her a second chance at happiness anything? She couldn't and she wouldn't. Whatever he wanted her to do, she would, even if it meant having sex with someone else.

Even if she was successful in blanking her mind of emotions, just going through the motions, faking the intimacy, and having sex with anyone other than Malcolm would break her heart. Yet, as per their agreement, having sex with someone else was the only way that he'd have sex with her. Having sex with someone else was the only way that she could give him some sexual satisfaction. After not seeing or hearing from him for a month and finally hearing his voice on the phone, she knew now that she loved him. Only, falling in love with him would be her undoing. 

Sadly, just as she knew she loved him, she knew that he didn't love her. He only loved talking and listening. He loved the visuals he received from talking dirty. He loved fast cars, fast women, and money. He didn't love her. He'd never love her. She was just another employee to him.

Best she put her emotions aside and blank her mind from feeling anything but the job she agreed to do. It was just a job after all. Her job was to have sex with black men. Her job was to tell Malcolm everything she did to them and everything they did to her.

Hoping beyond hope, perhaps she had a silver lined cloud to brighten her dark sky. She wondered if after having sex with someone to have sex with Malcolm, if she could make him fall in love with her. Women have been doing that with sex since forever. Maybe after the first time having sex with him, she'll learn what he likes and what he needs to have other than dirty talk. Only, someone like him could replace her any time with another woman, maybe even a black woman. Besides, he's the type of man who'd want a child of his own, a boy, no doubt, and she's already had her tubes tied. She berated herself for thinking about giving him a baby, a boy, when he only wanted dirty talk.

"Okay. How do we do this? Do I meet him somewhere for a drink? Do we go to dinner first? What? You tell me. This is all new to me. In case you forgot," she said with a laugh. "You were my first client. I haven't had sex with anyone except my husband and one time with Larry. Moreover, even with you, based on Bill Clinton's definition of sex, having only given you a blowjob, we really didn't have sex," she said with a little laugh.

"I hear you, June, and I didn't forget about your limited sexual experiences. Hell, compare to all the hos I've been with, you're practically a virgin," he said with another loud laugh."

Not wanting to hear all the women he's been with, she abruptly changed the subject. A pang of jealous hit her heart in the way that she wished jealousy would make him call this whole thing off and not go through with it. Much in the way of Richard Gere with Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, she imagined him rescuing her from her call girl fate by claiming her for himself. 

"Do I go to him or does he come to me?"

"He'll come to your place for sex. It's just sex. Have dinner before he arrives or after he leaves. That's up to you. He's the type of guy that doesn't want anything else but sex. Sex with a beautiful, willing white woman is all that he wants. He just wants sex," he said.

"Okay," she said while thinking, he's much like you, only interested in sex in that regard, but she didn't voice her protest, that is, until he became more specific in his friend's needs.

"By the way, he loves anal sex."

"Anal sex?"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I never had anal sex," she said.

"Oh, oh, that's a problem," said Malcolm. "Are you willing to try having anal sex or are you totally turned off by the thought of being fucked up the ass?"

"Totally turned off," she said without hesitation.

"Maybe after a couple glasses of champagne, some lighting, romantic music, a warm bath, and--"

"I don't think I can Malcolm. Especially with it being the first time, anal sex is something that I need to be eased into doing. Perhaps that's something you can help me with before doing that with a stranger," she said pleading her case.

"Okay, yeah, sure. Don't worry about having anal sex, June. I'll talk to him about that. I'm glad you told me," said Malcolm.

"I'm willing to do everything else short of that, Malcolm. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure, okay. Really, don't worry about it, June," he said. "I'll take care of it."

"Okay. When?"

"Saturday night. I'll arrange for the Nanny to take the kids overnight," he said," in case he wants to stay overnight.

"So, how often am I doing this?"

"Doing what, June?"

"Having sex with black men."

"As often as you want. You tell me. I have a lot of rich, black friends who'd want someone like you."

"Sorry for being so crass to ask about money, but money is the reason why I agreed to do this, after all. How much is he paying me?"

"A thousand dollars an hour. You decide how long you want him to stay. If he spends the night, five or six hours, the going rate is ten thousand dollars."

"Must I stay awake to earn that kind of money?" She laughed.

"You're free to make your own agreement with him. So long as he's happy and wants to return for more, whatever you two decide is fine with me."

"What's his name?"

"No names, June. He doesn't know your name. Just as I'm sure he'll make up a name, you're free to make up a name too. We'll get together Sunday for brunch and you can tell me all about what happened."

"Brunch? Here or at your place?"

"I'll take you out to a restaurant where we can be alone."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Malcolm?"

"What?"

"You pleasure me with your cock before I pleasure you with my words," she said with some reservation.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I forgot. Sorry. Then, I come to your place and you can tell me all that happened after we make love. Okay? How's that?"

"Perfect," she said as if a school girl having just being invited to a prom. Thank you Malcolm."

He hung up the phone and, but for dropping off the children at school and picking them up, June stayed sequestered in the condo for the rest of the week. Malcolm gave her his custom Chrysler 300 to use after he picked up his new car, the Cadillac CTS-V coupe, the one that he told her about. She should be happy but she was sad. She should be grateful to be safely away from her husband but she was unsettled and feeling restlessly anxious. It was a big adjustment living here as big as it would be servicing Malcolm's friends. She wanted love instead of sex. She wanted Malcolm instead of someone else. Only and obviously, it wasn't to be.

Right on time, precisely at 8pm, the doorman announced her a visitor.

"Send him up," she said wanting to ask the doorman what he looked like. Only, she already knew what he looked like. Only, it didn't matter so much what he looked like. All she knew was that he was a black man. Truly, it didn't matter what he looked like. She loved Malcolm and when with this stranger, her way of getting through this, she'd pretend she was with him.

Dressed for the occasion in slinky, black dress that Malcolm bought her, she looked stunning. When she opened the door to greet her John, she was surprised that it was Malcolm.

"What are you doing here? Did your friend cancel?"

"No he's here."

She stepped by him to look out in the hall.

"Where is he?"

"He's standing in front of you. Me."

"You?"

"Yes, me," he said smiling at her. "I'm your date for the evening and I plan on staying overnight and forever, if you'll have me."

"Oh, Malcolm," she said reaching up to kiss him while hugging him.

"I don't want you having sex with anyone else but me, June. By the way, I was only kidding about the anal sex," he said with a booming laugh. "I love you, June. I love you," he said pulling out a box from his pocket and falling to one knee. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she said without even opening the box. "Only, I'd have to finalize my divorce from John, first."

"I already have my lawyers working on that for you."

THE END