Not the dumbest thing (2)
Do you ever start out by saying "again, I did that again?" . This is the story I can't quite tell, I belongs in A's Detriot, a place I have never been, it belongs in the heart of an African city, a place I love, it belongs to a hooker who said "I did that again?" About the 15th re-write in 20 years, belongs to my Missy Valentine series.
Missy shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the car. They certainly weren't going where she had expected. What was new about that? The guys seemed drunk. What was new about that? The car was filled with crap and a hunting knife. At least there was something new about that.
So, she had maybe miscalculated, made a mistake might be a more accurate. Missy wasn't too worried, for now. She still knew where they were heading, and if she knew that she could make it back home.
Every day in every way I am getting better and better. How stupid could you be?
Missy thought that it was a little bit late to rethink her wardrobe of the evening. Even a hooker shouldn't dress like a ho. Actually, with how far they were travelling, she did have to rethink her outfit. She had time to re-think more than one choice, and right now, she wished she had re-thought earlier.
How nice, a suburban house. Missy hated ending up alone with two guys, how had she managed to get herself into this position again? She took herself into the house, lace curtains, flower print sofa-that alone was enough to kill a girl-pictures of flowers in fake gold frames.
Missy took the drink, coke, that was handed to her-yeah right. Number one-Pete-(yeah right again) left the room. Number two watched her, over the barrel of his revolver. Missy tried to think what kind it was. How in the hell did she do this again?
Missy waited. Shut up and do as you're told-she didn't have to be told. She stripped. First her belt, pulled through slowly, loop by loop, then hung around her neck, like a dog collar, or a noose, how stupid. She knew what he wanted. She ran her hands over her shoulders, caressed her own breasts, running her thumbs over her hardening nipples. Her body knew what to do. She turned her head and licked a shoulder, taking the strap of the tank top in her mouth, in her teeth, curling her tongue around it then slowly letting go. Missy sucked her fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tips one at a time, pulling her fingers in and out, fucking her mouth with her fingers. She turned her back, and slowly, all the while swinging her ass, lifted her tank top over her head.
Missy stood with her legs spread apart, her back to her client, and his revolver. Her fingers traced the hem of her fake leather mini. Missy bent over, showing her ass wrapped in a tiny little minuscule lace G-string, exposing the lines of her stockings and suspenders. She worked her panties and suspenders, looking over her shoulder, licking and chewing her lower lip teasingly, occasionally winking. She knew what the man and his gun wanted.
Missy's hands rode up over her body, taking the straps of her bra, sliding forwards over her cupped breasts, legs tucked together, and turn. Her fingers pulling her breasts loose over the cups of her push up, playing her own nipples roughly now, reaching down, pulling and biting. She looked up over her lashes, pouting slightly as she slid her fingers though the straps and pulled her bra down around her waist, slowly exposing each pert little breast.
Missy turned again, exposing her ass in the insignificant skirt. She ran her fingers around the curve of her ass, pulling at her panties as she ran her fingers over herself. Touching herself intimately from the back. Her fingers ran to her suspenders, and one by one, slowly she ran her hands up and down them, twisted in her fingers, as she undid them.
Missy turned and faced the revolver and the man. Nothing new. She lifted a leg and set it between his on the flowered couch, heal setting between his knees, revolver, rested on her standing leg.
His hands played between her legs, feeling the shaved mound, reaching down for her slit, then sliding all the way down, leaving the stocking and taking the shoe.
Missy set her foot down, momentarily off balance. He spun her and shoved her forwards onto a glass top table, which left her facing a brown shag nylon rug. There were some moments when one longed for death.
Missy held her breath. Been there, done that, relax, relax, breathe, don't fight it, let it happen.
Missy felt the gun on her back, laid down, she felt him nudge her knees further apart, she complied. He jerked the belt, pulling her head up, she turned as best she could to look up.
"Say you want me bitch."
"I want you."
"Mean it."
"I WANT YOU."
"You can't have me bitch." He suddenly grabbed the gun and shoved it up her ass.
Missy held her breath. Been there, done that, relax, relax, breathe, don't fight it, let it happen.
"Come bitch, you know you want to." Malicious whisper. He fucked her with the gun.
Missy couldn't remember if the safety was on. What if she died like this, how would she explain it. At least they would have to replace the rug. She gasped from the pain of being forced up her tight hole.
"Come little bitchy, bitchy, I can hear you."
Yanks on the belt around her neck.
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Suddenly Missy heard a second voice.
"That's sick man." Pete's voice.
Her head was forced up again. She looked straight at Pete's face. He was holding his cock out of his jeans, jerking himself off. That certainly wasn't new.
"You some sort of pretty boy?" the other voice spoke.
Missy, gun stuck up her ass, noose half tight around her neck, nearly laughed out loud, Pete was not pretty.
"Show me." Number two spoke again. Missy was aware of the gun pulling out. "Fuck her face."
The leash yanked Missy higher. Her hands found support on the coffee table.
Relax and swallow. Missy held her breath. Been there, done that, relax, relax, breathe, don't fight it, let it happen. Relax and swallow. She gaged. He didn't stop.
Missy found herself trying to pull back against the tightening leash and fighting against the cock suffocating her throat.
Missy's knees were knocked further apart, she could feel the pre-cum on her tight dry cunt.
"Better clean you up."
Her poured run and coke onto her burning as and parched pussy. She arched against it, unable to scream as her mouth was fucked, and unable to resist because of the leash straining against her throat.
Been there, done that, relax, relax, breathe, don't fight it, let it happen. Think about the rug. No don't think about the rug.
Up her cunt, hard and fast, and, please let this be over, please let this be over, please let this be over.
He seemed satisfied. He rolled off of her. Slapping her ass for good measure.
Pete pulled out, unreleased, left with hurried strides carrying his undefined hefty body.
Missy leapt up and followed, ass burning, cunt throbbing, vile taste in her mouth.
Missy cornored him in the bathroom.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my wife died, and I can't be with, you know, with anyone, I don't want to be like that, it's just, it's the only way, but I can't."
Missy raised her eyebrows, and sat down to pee.
"You owe me for tonight."
"I have $350."
"That's all? This wasn't exactly free!"
"You enjoyed it." Number two spoke suddenly from the door.
"You owe me." Missy pushed past number two and into the living room. She walked to the coffee table, and picked up the revolver in both hands, she unclicked the safety, she pulled the trigger, once twice three four five.
Missy took the gun with her, she took the glass she had used, she picked up the car keys, she threw on her shirt, she let herself out, she started the car and headed home.
Fini/einde