1. It Was Just Another Saturday NIght


    Date: 6/14/2017, Categories: Hardcore, Author: jaycox, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    turned into a frog. I ran the shower until the hot water was gone. Wrapping myself up in a towel around my body and one around my head I set about repairing my face makeup. Next I dried my hair and ran a brush through it, rubbed myself down with the towel and dropped it on the floor. Pink tank top, wrap-around denim skirt, my trademark knee-high socks and penny loafers; I was ready to go again. The old cloth coat was done. I had a lightweight denim vest with an inside cell phone pocket to stash my earnings. I grabbed my cheap purse and put the door key into it. The vodka, went into the bag too, after one more drink. Last stop was the nightstand drawer with a dozen condoms; I dropped them into the bag also. I walked down to 14th Street again. My timing was perfect. At 11:00 o'clock the first round of bar-hoppers was usually pretty sauced and looking for some action. Sidewalk traffic said I was right. Dozens of guys were milling about, some talking to my sisters of the night, some just bullshitting, and some arguing about who knew what? I took one more shot of vodka and waded into the scene. "Hey, pretty woman, let's fuck!" "What's a good looking hooker like you doing with all these dumb cunts around her tonight?" "How much for a butt-fuck? Free blowjob with it?" "Hey Granny, are you lost? This is whore's row!" Someone jibed, followed by loud laughter. At age thirty-seven, I was by far the oldest hooker on the street. Blah, blah, blah, it was always the same. The first nights ...
    I came out with James, two years ago, I enjoyed the banter. Now it was just so much bullshit, noise to keep the night away. How long had it been? It was all so hazy, fuzzy shadows on a wall, moving aimlessly about with mine being trampled over and over by the stomp of feet. I used to worry about being pissed on, pushed about, bruised a little, bit a lot and hard fucked. None of it seemed to matter now. He was gone with the kids; I didn't know where. Someday if I lived through it, I might try to find them. I didn't even cry about them anymore. That piece of my heart, where they lived, had become stone. Two young guys, about twenty-five years old were coming toward me, clearly about to block my path. Okay, let's get the fucking parade moving again. "Hi, fellas. How're they hangin'?" I said, slurring a little. The joint had worn off, but the vodka was coming on strong. I did my best work when I was half drunk. There was a delicate balance. If I went too far, I sometimes ended up in a doorway at 3 AM with no purse and a lot of cum splattered all over me. Less to drink and the pain was so great I wanted to pull my nipples until they bled. Without the booze and dope, I fucking hated myself and what had happened to me and my family. ~O~O~O~ The second night James and I went out he agreed to stay with me until I got tired. The first gig had fired his libido, and I was half-crazy with lust by the time we got home. I fucked him in the garage while the babysitter was still in the living ...
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