CATHLEEN. Diary of a lesbian hooker of the 1930s. - Sex Stories

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CATHLEEN. Diary of a lesbian hooker of the 1930s.

Date: 11/19/2015, Categories: Interracial Sex, Lesbian Sex, Mature, Author: mib14, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

from the back. Her blouse was half torn and dark with sweat. Her gold chain had broken and was lying on the carpet. I picked it up, got up and left it next to her handbag. “I am so ashamed”, she kept on saying hiding her face “Don’t be. I enjoyed it and so did you. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”I tried to tell her. “How can I face you again at the factory ?”, she asked “Colleen, lots of married couples work together at the factory”, I answered “But they are normal”, she smiled “Come on Colleen, don’t give me this. We’re as normal as they are”, I said giving her a big hug “Your problem right now is to clean up and to get home”, I said Luckily I was a planner and brought an extra blouse which I gave her. We both smelled like we had had sex for ten hours. As we cleaned up together in this pretty unsavory room, Colleen would start to laugh, then it would turn to tears. She reminded me of some of the mothers I had slept with, filled with guilt. We promised to see each other again, preferably in a more sophisticated location, and to continue as usual in our relationship at the factory. I got out first and took my tram. The following week, Colleen was avoiding me at work but I gave her time to get over things. On Friday, she watched me leave and smiled. I smiled back. The vice-president apparently told many people about the man and the hotel but nobody ever knew why I was never punished. ... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That Friday, I met Alanis as usual at the Pub. There were a lot of jazz and blues bands in town at this time of the year. “The Perry s****rs are in town”, Alanis said “Oh I remember them from last year”, I answered smiling “You must have made a good impression, ‘cause they want you back, baby”, said Al imitating their accent. “They like their milk in their chocolate”, continued Al “They are really nice and I am looking forward to this “, I said The three black s****rs (real s****rs) were singing at the Palace Club which was in the really seedy part of town, near where I had met Colleen. Al told me to go by cab and return by cab. No walking, especially for a white girl in that area. I had instructions to get the cab to stop in the alley next to the club. A large man at the side door let me in. The music just about blew me out. We were very near the stage where a trumpet player was performing. Everybody backstage was black, but there were some white folks in the audience. The man took me by the arm and gently walked me to a door marked “Guests”. “The Sistas are in there,” he said, “ and they finished their gig. They’re waiting for you”. “What do I do when I’m ready to leave ?”, I asked the nice man “I’m always here in the hallway and I’ll get you a cab”, he answered “They sang like birds”, he said, his voice quivering. “Please them”. He knocked on the door marked “Guests” and led me in. The three women were in the mist of washing and changing after their set. ...