Short Smut(13)

It wasn’t fucking or sucking, but it was whoring. I slid onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was immediately distracted by my cleavage, and I had to hook his chin and draw his eyes up.

“Kiss me, gorgeous,” I whispered.

He tentatively opened his mouth. I was already hot and ready to go—I could have swarmed all over him, but that would have probably been terrifying. Instead, I started with some light kisses that were the right mix of eager and shy.

He learned fast and kissed me more deeply. His mouth wasn’t fresh, but then I didn’t want it to be. He was a stranger and I wanted him to taste strange… that was the turn-on.

The kissing turned hot. He realized I was the Full Girlfriend Experience and didn’t leave his hands on my back. They slid down to my ass and under the hem of my short dress. His fingers met my skin, sending shivers up my spine.

Then his hands slid around to my front, intimately learning every curve of my body, and latched onto my breasts. My mouth was on his so I couldn’t talk, but my approval came out as a low, needy moan. His hands slid inside my dress. He palmed my hard nipples. The strange hands felt sensual as they lifted and squeezed my breasts.

“You’re such a young whore,” he gasped.

“I’m twenty.”

“You’re also really cheap.”

He knew just the right things to say to me. I grabbed one hand out of my top and shoved it between my legs. My burning hot pussy met his fingers and exploded with sensation. He delved into me, and I threw my head back with a gasp. I opened my legs to give him deeper access—who cared if we were in the middle of a bus depot?

I stretched in his arms, my spine cracking. His fingers worked in me—either he was very good at this, or I was simply very receptive. My chest popped out of the dress—that bodice was useless for holding in breasts but perfect for a hooker. College Boy latched on to my hard nipple and swished it with his tongue. With nips and licks, he got down to business—sucking deeply as he finger-banged me.

I wanted to be kissing him—this man I didn’t know.

This man I didn’t know.

I opened my eyes. The bus depot looked upside-down to my point of view, and the grimy, trash-strewn linoleum floor was my new sky. Beaten-up chairs filled that sky, several of them containing strange men. The men watched me with mesmerized eyes, as if from above, like I was lying beneath them. They met my eyes, some boldly. Men I didn’t know.

Men I could know.

A girl could get used to this, I thought, and then my vision turned white.

College Boy’s fingers found the right location inside me, with the right balance of squeezing, rubbing, and tugging. He felt my body tighten and clamped down on my nipple.

Orgasm flooded through me like a warm red wave. I don’t think I made a noise, but it was no secret what I was feeling. I simply lay in his arms, listening with a body that had turned completely sensitive. I felt his heartbeat in his legs, I felt the ridges of his fingers as they slid over my sex, I felt the wafts of his breath.

When I opened my eyes, my vision was spinning. Jack stood next to us, waiting with his hand out.

College Boy was still breathing hard when he passed over two five dollar bills. “Worth it.”

I glowed with accomplishment and pride.

“Thank you, that was amazing,” I said. I pecked him on the cheek.

“Wait—!” He looked so woeful I had to smile. “You’re going already?”

“Do you have more money?” Jack was enjoying being a bad-ass pimp.

“Not right now… but later?”

“Then talk to us later.”

I took his phone and punched in my email address. “Write me if you’re near College Town. I’m a dollar a minute. Tell your friends.”

* * *

Jack led me away—but not back to Dean. I wanted a moment to covet the money I’d earned, to look at it and talk about it, but he led me directly to the men’s restroom.

“Your next John is here,” he said, pushing through the door.

“Ooh!” That was more like it. “Some privacy too.”

Jack gave me a flat smile. “Fucking around in the open like you just did, there isn’t a person in the bus station who believes you are an undercover cop. I mean, you were naked and thrashing in that kid’s lap.”

“There was gas money on the line,” I said.

“This guy talked to us while you were still coming. You’re his for thirty.”

My next John.

He was a tall man in a nondescript trench coat. Under some scruff, he was actually quite handsome, with planed cheeks and a cleft chin. I thought he looked quite kissable, in fact. Just like the last guy.

I don’t know if that was Marylou’s hooker personality shining through or I was simply lucky to have three relative hotties (counting Jack) for my first day as a whore. I assumed they all wouldn’t be this awesome—