I Suck

a Short Story by Kellis

Copyright © 2003, Kellis



“I suck.”

I had pulled up to the curb beside her, dropped the window, given her my brightest smile and said, “Honey, what’s your name?”  That was her response — with emphasis on the last syllable.

I had to think a moment.  “You couldn’t mean ‘Isaac.’  Say that again.”

She said very distinctly, “I … suck.”

“What kind of name is that?”

Her round, faintly oriental face didn’t smile.  Her hair was medium brown, which could be dyed, but her eyes were a clear green, rare and hard to fake even under the nearby orange streetlight; I knew only one person with eyes like that.  She wore black-rimmed circular glasses that added to the oriental perception.  Otherwise she was dressed like her sisters in a knit tank top with bare midriff, a very short skirt over bare legs and platform high heels.  She had a slim figure and the legs were shapely.  If she tossed the utilitarian specs and did something to the dangling shoulder-length hair she’d be a looker.

“I suck,” she said again, shaking her head.  The combination wouldn’t make much sense to most guys.

Another one lounged nearby, holding up the streetlight pole.  I leaned toward her in the car window and asked, “Do you know what she’s saying?”

This one, a much more substantial specimen, giggled and thrust her pelvis at me.  “What we’s all saying.”

“Huh?  I asked her what’s her name.”

“Who gives a shit?  She’s telling you the important stuff: what she do.”

“You don’t mean that she sucks!  Hell, you all do that.”

“Guess she’s proud of it.”  Again the big girl giggled.  “The skinny ones gotta try harder.”

“Okay.” I redirected my attention to green-eyes and said, trying to be cutely sarcastic, “You want me to call you Sucker?”

She shrugged indifferently.  Her eyes were magnified behind the glasses that weren’t fake either.

I gave the surroundings a longer look: typical evening scene of closed offices with several cars moving and pedestrians farther up the sidewalk.  The big girl against the lamppost was the only visible witness.  Parking was forbidden on this side of the street but unlighted cars were solid on the other side.

I said to the biggie, “Do you know her name?”

“Never seen her before tonight.”  The ready giggle sounded again.  “You ’bout the fourth to stop.  All she goes is ‘I suck.’  What’s the matter with you guys tonight?  Don’cha like blowjobs no more?”  At that her giggle turned into a bray of laughter.

“I get it.  You’re the cop.”

“Me, a cop?”  She guffawed.  “Hell no, I ain’t no cop.  My main man’s trying out his new who’e and told me to fuck off, so here I am — off, anyway.  I’d’ve run Miss Four-eyes outa my stand ’cept I might take her home with me.  And watching her fool with you guys is a bash.”

“How do I know you aren’t a cop?”

“Hell, how do I know it of you?”  When I opened my mouth to respond, she continued with a knowing leer, “Never mind.  I sees you coming on to Four-eyes.”

With a sniff I opened the passenger door and beckoned to the girl with green eyes, whose head had been turning from one to the other as we spoke.  But she shook her head and drew back.

I’m sure my surprise showed.  “What do you mean, no?  I don’t bite.”

It took me a moment to classify her reaction.  Fear?  In a street-walking whore?  But the girl skipped over to the leaning woman and grabbed her wrist.

“What’cha doing?” the big one asked, swaying back.

Turning to stare at me from wide eyes, the girl declared in a low voice, “Both of us.”

I never heard of an entrapment arranged with two girls.  For sure neither was packing a holstered gun.  Suddenly the idea of two — these two, one rather dainty and the other an obvious slut — tickled my fancy despite the risk, and I made a quick decision.  “Okay,” I agreed, beckoning again.  “Both of you.”

“Well, shee-oot!” declared the biggie, straightening up, letting Green-eyes lead her toward my car.  The girl slid in readily enough.

Biggie went to the back door but Green-eyes still held her wrist, craning to look up at her.  “Sit with me.”

“Ain’t room.”

“Yes, there is,” the girl insisted, giving the wrist a tug before releasing it and clambering closer to me, one butt cheek atop the CD console between the front seats.  Without further argument Biggie plopped her broad bottom into the car and slammed the door.  Green-eyes settled partly on the console and partly on the woman’s thigh while I congratulated myself for renting a roomy Crown Vic.

“We not going far,” declared Biggie, as if it made a difference.  One of her arms snaked around the girl’s waist.

Fingering the passenger window closed, I pulled back into the light traffic and darted a glance at my passengers.  Green-eyes sat stiffly erect, bracing herself on the dash, staring straight ahead.  Her profile was good despite the glasses.  The lips were full and sensuous and the turned up nose too prominent for an oriental.  At this range I could smell woman.  Apparently neither wore perfume.

“Not too far,” I soothed.  “At least you’re off your feet.”

“Yeah!” Biggie agreed with feeling.  She laughed.  “Funny how working on yo’ back makes yo’ feet so sore.”

“How about some names?  With two of you I can’t very well say, ‘Hey, you,’ can I?”

The girl flicked me a glance but remained silent.  Biggie answered, “They call me Doe.”  She giggled.  “On account I ain’t got none.”

“Spelled with G H, then?”

“With what?”

I saw a smile flash briefly on the girl’s lips.  I nudged her arm with my elbow.  “What’s your name?”


Jane?  Well, at least I don’t have to call you Sucker.”

She said something else with the sound of, “But I do.”

“That’s not all you do, is it?”

She didn’t answer.  I remembered hearing my daughters use that phrase pejoratively. “Hmm.  Is that the modern idiom?  Do you mean you’re not a good person?”

“I suck.”

I chuckled slightly.  “We’ll see when we get to the motel.  What about you, Doe: what do you do?”

“Everything.  You name it, I already did it in Peoria.”

“In Peoria?”  I chuckled.  “Then you went on to Broadway, did you?”

“Had a regular cathouse in Peoria till Caterpillar downsized.”

The girl turned partly around.  “You raised cats?”

I could see enough of the woman’s face to note the slowly widening grin.  “Cocks,” I said for her.  “She raised cocks.”

“What?  Then why’d you call it a cat house?”

“’Cause it was the cats’ playhouse.”  Doe giggled.  “They’d’ve made a mouse oughta you, Four-eyes.”

“The name is Jane!”

“Jane and Doe!” I exclaimed.  “There’s a combination!”

“Yeah, to cops,” remarked the latter.  “You sure you ain’t one?  What’s yo’ name?”

“Call me Mick.  And I promise you I’m no cop, though I’m still wondering about you two.”

Doe sniffed.  “Already told you I ain’t, and Four-eyes looks too young.  Course, looks’ll fool you.”

The girl jerked unaccountably and twisted around to regard her supporter.  “What’re you doing?”

“Checking on just how young you are.”  The woman giggled.  “Where’s your panties?”

“You mean … you’re wearing panties?”

Does’s voice contained a grin.  “Somebody lift yours?”

“I … didn’t think you were supposed to wear any.”

Doe laughed.  “Guess you ain’t had it running down your legs yet.”

“Yes, I have too!”

“And went back for more, did you?  Hah!  Not that I care.  But you oughta keep this bush shaved.  You look about young enough to be bald.  Some guys’ll pay extra.”

“I’m not a little girl,” the little girl sneered but added plaintively, “Is that your thumb?”

“It was.  How ’bout this?”

“Ooo!  That, that …  Ooo!”

Doe giggled.  “You know how to pick ’em, Mick.  This is a wet ’un!”

Jane took a deep breath.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her rump tilt higher, probably to ease the woman’s access.  But her head turned to me.  “What makes you think I’m a cop?”

“I didn’t say that.  But it’s easy to prove.”


Doe sniggered.  “Reach over there and pick up his dick.”

“His — oh!”  I felt a hand fumbling in my crotch.  “Where is it?” Jane asked after a moment.

Doe sniggered.  “You pro’ly have to unzip it.”  Suddenly she laughed.  “Pick Mick’s dick!”  The laughter strengthened.  “Mickey’s dickie!  Hey!  I know where to stick Mick’s dick.”

“In a chick?” I asked, playing along.

“A chick’s niche.”  She pronounced it “nitch.”

“A niche?  First time I ever heard it called that.”

“Pussy don’t rhyme.  Ha!  I’ll stick Mick’s dick in a slick chick.”  She exploded with pleased laughter that subsided to a chuckle while she mouthed additional rhyming words.  I thought about making something of “Doe, the who’e,” but refrained.  Her arm was under the girl’s skirt, elbow twisting.

Jane apparently ignored that invasion while pursuing one of her own in the darkness below the wheel.  She seemed intent on discovery, as if she were ignorant or at least uncertain how male clothing opened.  Perhaps her previous customers had spared her the chore.  If she actually took cock in hand, I was willing to believe her innocent of entrapment, especially before a witness.

When her fingers finally closed on flaccid meat, I said, “Let’s get our relationship straight.  What would you do for a thousand dollars?”

Big Doe snorted.  “Turn herself inside out.”

“How about a hundred?”

“Like she said: suck.”

“Oh, no.  She’ll do that for 50.”

I waited for the reaction.  That was the going price for a quick blowjob as of my last quote.  They were silent.  Apparently supply and demand were holding steady.

Making several unnecessary turns, I studied the mirrors but saw nothing of a follower.  If either girl was wired, of course, the monitor wouldn’t have to stay closed up.  Though in that case the lack of leading questions was surprising.  Unless the wire was the type that only emitted a location.  Maybe the wearer was nervous.  Maybe she was an idiot.  But I doubted that.  In my experience whores tend to be brighter than average women.  To survive in this trade they need to be.

Jane was still curious.  “Why isn’t it erect?”

“Say what?” asked Doe in disbelief.

The question suggested greater gallantry in previous customers.  “I’m no teenager,” I defended.

Doe snorted.  “No, I mean, what’s this ‘erect’ shit?  Say, Four-eyes, are you one of them college sluts?”

When she didn’t answer, I suggested placatingly, “You only need to work it a little.”

She peeled the foreskin back, disclosing some familiarity with the objective, and leaned closer, bringing her other hand to bear.  Oddly exploratory fingers slithered all around.

I pressed the button on the armrest.  With an electrical whine the seat slid several inches toward the rear.  Stretching to keep foot on the accelerator, I suggested, “Your mouth would work it even better.”

“M-my mouth?”

The lights of a following car lit her pale face, eyes staring into mine.  “You know,” I added: “what you were advertising.”

“You mean …”

“You do suck, or so you claim.”


She took a deep breath.  Her butt slid more onto the ample adjacent lap and her head went down.  Her objective had grown enough for lips to close over it readily.  Indeed she began to suck.

Ah, a blowjob while driving!  Luxuriating in it, appreciating the curious combination of heat and cool as the girl forgot to breathe only through her nose, I glanced at Doe, who stared at me in amusement.

“What you think o’ that trick, Mick?”


“Oh, yeah?  Do she know how?”

“Hard to screw this up,” I said with a grin.  “What did you discover at the other end?”

The woman sniffed.  “A wet pussy that won’t last.”

“Last doing what?”

“Walking the streets.”

“How can you tell?”

“She loves it too much.  You’ll see.”

“In just a moment.”  I turned into the motel parking lot and let the car roll up to a space near the unit I had previously rented.  The girls got out as I did and followed me, waiting stolidly while I unlocked the door.  Inside I turned on the lights, motioned them past me, closed the door and shot the two deadbolts home.  This was not the best of neighborhoods.

Finally I got my first good look at Doe.  She was a big light-skinned black with hair cut short over strong features, animated as she looked approvingly around the cheap room.  “I likes ’em on the ground floor.”

“You’ll like this too,” I said, moving toward the rear.  “That’s the back door.”

“Hey, hey!”  But her smile faded.  “Shit, the cops’ll know ’bout it too.”

I checked the bathroom while they crowded behind me, Doe closest.  “You probably need that,” I suggested, pointing to the toilet.  “Go ahead.”

I stood aside.  The big woman leered at me.  “You gonna watch us piss?”

“No, but go ahead.  I’ll be right back.”

I closed the door on them because I didn’t want them to see me check under the bed and behind the light fixtures.  Not that I expected to find anything.  No one was keeping me under that kind of surveillance, so far as I knew.  With Anabelle out of the picture no one had cause to suspect my hobby.  You can never be too careful, though, especially in my position.  In this town we’ve made the penalties for prostitution more severe for the john than the girl, which of course makes economic sense, given that the other reason for prosecuting whores is the additional revenue.  I’m surprised that some jurisdictions have yet to outlaw it.

The main reason?  Recreation for the cops, of course.  They do love to bust whores.  Arresting women accustomed to sexual payoff is a delightful exercise of power, even for the female cops, and risk-free if you wear a plastic visor.

I did a thorough job.  The room was clean, not so much of dirt but of electronic eavesdroppers.  I returned to the bathroom to find that big Doe had already stripped little Jane completely.  The smaller body was shapely but very pale in the harsh bathroom light, adorned with pinkish-brown conical nipples.  Legs and underarms were shaven but not the pubes.  Her butt cheeks rested on the edge of the sink while she braced with hands on either side.  Bare toes touched the tile floor but not heels.  Her mouth hung open while darker hands stroked between the legs.

Doe, kneeling, leered at me over her shoulder, her mouth glistening with moisture.  “Here’s a sweet one for you to lick, Mick.”

“I see you ought to know, Doe.  But show me what you’ve got, too.”

Her grin vanished.  “You mean you do want us both?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the closed door.  “Let me see you.”

“You don’t want me; you want this young’un.  I’ll help you get all she’s got.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.  I like big girls too.  Give me a show, Doe.”

She grimaced and slipped the purse strap off her shoulder, dropping the heavy article onto the toilet lid with a tinkle and a thud that made me curious.  While her tank-top went over her head, my hand darted into the bag, found the gun and brought it out.  She tossed the garment atop the bag.  Her eyes glowed whitely when she saw what I held.

“That’s mine!”

“And a pretty good replica it is, too,” I said with a grin, inspecting the black-painted depression where a muzzle should have been.  I dropped it back into the bag.

“Stay outa my damn purse!”

“I shall — and would have if you hadn’t showed me how heavy it was.”

The girl’s eyes had also widened.  “Replica?  You carry a fake gun?”

“It fools ’em long enough,” said Doe defensively.

“If they don’t get too close,” I agreed.  “Just don’t draw it on a cop.”

“A fake?” the girl repeated incredulously.

“’Cause I really don’ wanta shoot nobody,” the big woman explained morosely.

“But what if it doesn’t scare them?”

Doe shrugged.  “Then they gets whatever they wants.”  She grinned at me suddenly.  “Course they does that anyhow.”

Hands contorted behind her and unhooked her bra, releasing a pair of tits large enough to spread across the entire wide chest, as large as any I’ve ever seen, rounded out with huge dark nipples and less sag than you’d expect.

“What a nice rack!” I exclaimed involuntarily.

“’Specially for a doe,” the big woman noted and laughed uproariously.  The girl eyed the extensive flesh in wonder.

I backed through the door.  “Bring your clothes out here.  Then how about let’s all take a shower together?”

“A shower?” repeated Doe with evident surprise.  But the girl hopped down from the edge of the sink to inspect the other side of the room.

“I’ll be right back,” I told them again and went out to throw my clothes over a chair.  Doe soon followed, bearing her own and the girl’s clothing plus her purse, which she piled on the empty suitcase rack.  She was heavily built with buttocks plump to match her breasts and a few stretch marks on her belly but without blemish otherwise.  Despite its size her body was shapely.  She was a handsome, thirtyish woman, well fleshed in arms and legs.

Beyond her through the bathroom door I heard the shower start up.  Doe looked me up and down too.  “What’s that belt ’tween your neck and armpit?”


“Speaking of that …”

I had anticipated her and extended two fifties between thumb and forefinger.  She took them, whirled around and stuffed them into her purse.  The spinning action lifted her tits nicely.  She looked back over her shoulder.  “This ain’t for Four-eyes too.”

I shrugged.

“What’chou gonna do for her?”

“Let her ask.”

The woman sneered.  “Maybe she learn to collect beforehand.”

“You think she’s no pro, Doe?”

She nodded.  “‘No pro,’ go Doe.”

“Well, she’ll learn I only stiff with this,” I said, thrusting with my hips.

Doe frowned.  “And that needs work.”

Hand extended, she sidled against me, but I caught her shoulders and gently turned her around.  “Let’s join Jane.”

“Can’t you do no better’n that?” she asked humorously, taking hold of me again with a hand behind her.  “We’ll ’splain to Jane.  Ha, I got it!”  She produced an anticipatory giggle.  “We’ll train Jane!”

Kneading a massive butt cheek with one hand, I followed the woman into the bathroom.  Steam was billowing above the closed shower curtain.  I reached in and switched the water from showerhead to tub spigot before opening the curtain.  Doe stepped over the edge and embraced the girl while I adjusted the water temperature to eliminate the steam.  Females always set it far too hot.

Doe pointed to my money loop.  “Ain’t you worried about that?”

“No, the pouch is waterproof.”

When I joined them and restored the spray, the girl gasped, “Ooo, that’s cold!”

“Pleasantly warm,” I countered, pulling her backwards against me, hands on belly and tits.

The big woman gathered both of us into her ample flesh.  She said comfortingly to Jane, “Don’t you worry none.  You gonna be snug as a bug in a rug.”

“If you let me breathe,” said the girl tartly, her voiced muffled in Doe’s neck but understandable despite the hiss of the shower.

I had unwrapped a bar of soap, which I proceeded to scrub over as much flesh as I could reach on both women, then on myself, especially my hardening root.  I pushed the bar into Doe’s large hand, stooped and guided myself up between Jane’s legs.  She twisted her head to study my face.  I don’t know what she expected to see on it, but I leered at her just as the soapy knob parted her nether lips and penetrated two or three inches even from that strained position.

Upper lips formed the same O as the lower ones, except voluntarily.  “Ooo!  You’re doing it!”

“Doing what?” asked the big woman, but received her answer when the girl’s hips rotated.  The hand pressing my back released me and snaked down between the female bodies.  Doe grinned at me and stuck a finger into the girl alongside, then above my cock.  Two fingers, by god!

“Heh, heh!” chuckled Doe.  “I thought you meant he was poking your asshole.  This ain’t nothing.  See how this feels!”

Her fingernail vibrated against my knob.  But I understood her objective to be the girl’s clit, and guessed she was compressing it between thumb outside and fingers within.

Jane shuddered between us, wailing, “What’re you doing to me!”

“It’s what we come for,” answered the woman, stooping enough to reach between the girl’s legs and cup my balls in her other hand.

With my hands free I could examine the huge breasts, which I did while continuing to pump languidly between soft vagina and bony fingers, an interesting comparison in itself.  The dark nipples puckered to nearly an inch of length.  Tweaking them made the big woman sigh, though she offered no resistance.  My hand wandered down her round belly to the neatly shaven thatch and parted the meaty lips.  I slipped in two fingers, then two more, and squeezed a surprisingly large clit with my thumb.

The inserted fingers felt her sphincters contract.  I said, “You like it too, I see.”

“Who don’t?”  She released my balls and straightened up, thrusting her cunt forward and adding, “But a gal’s hand do it better.”

“Fair enough.”  I caught one of Jane’s hands and brought it down beside my busy one.  In curiosity at the fit, I straightened her fingers and thumb into a parallel projection and thrust them into the woman beside my own fingers.  The knuckles met slight resistance, but in went the hand to the wrist beside my own contribution.

“Oh!” grunted the woman, wide eyes shining whitely at me.

“Here’s your girl’s hand,” I smirked.

“My god!” exclaimed Jane.  Her fingers clasped mine inside the woman.  Her head turned to stare at me askance over her shoulder.  “You put my whole hand in … in …”

“Say it, Jane,” I said with a leer.  “Say, ‘In Doe’s pussy.’”

She said only, “I can’t believe it,” but made no effort to pull out.

Doe was grinning at her.  “Wha’chou think o’ that, honey?”

“It’s … it’s … oh, god, it’s terrible!”

Perhaps it was, but the grip on my dick head was suddenly wet as a slobbering mouth, which gave me an idea.

“We’re clean enough,” I pronounced.  “Come on.  Let’s dry off and try a trick on the bed.”

“Easy coming out!” warned Doe.  She clutched the girl’s arm, guaranteeing the gradualism.

We dried each other with the two bath towels.  Neither female worried about frizzy hair.  When we departed the bathroom, I couldn’t help noticing the damp and seemingly electrified coiffure that adorned each.

“What you grinning at, Mick?” asked Doe with a sniff.  “It’ll be dry when you get through and that’s why we got brushes and combs.”

She threw off the bedclothes and paused beside the bed.  “How you want us?”

“I’ll show you.”

It was a cheap Hollywood queen-size without sides or footboard, but the motel, familiar with its trade, had installed a large mirror behind the padded headboard and inset a bright lamp in the low ceiling.  I sat Doe down on the foot of the bed.  “Lay back and keep your feet on the floor.”

“Reach me a pillow, honey,” she instructed the girl.

“Get both of them,” I said, turning away to lift the easy chair’s thick cushion.  “Put this under your hips, Doe.  Jane, put both those pillows under the small of her back.”

When the woman was elevated to my requirements, I added, “Now, Jane, you get on top of her backwards.”

“On my back?”

“On your 69.”

Her brow wrinkled momentarily in a puzzled stare before the light dawned.  She crawled onto the bed and swung her haunches over Doe’s face.  “Like this?”

“You’s a kick, Mick,” the woman declared breathily, hands rising to clasp the younger hips.  Jane leaned forward, braced herself on the edge of the bed.  I took a moment to fondle her soft nipples, which crinkled under my attention.  Her eyes stared through me in clear astonishment, though I understood not from my effort!  In the mirror past her shoulder I saw Doe’s forehead projecting from between the pale buttocks, nose in the crack.

“Ooo!” breathed the girl.

“What’s she doing?” I asked jocularly.

She flashed me a glance.  “You know.”

“Tell me.”

Her face tightened, lips drawn back.  I ordered, “Lean down and return the favor.”

My words took a moment to penetrate.  “Wh-what?” she mumbled, focusing with difficulty on my face.

“Didn’t you ever lick a clit?”

Her eyes were huge.  “That’s what she’s doing!”

I had to chuckle.  “Didn’t you guess that’s what she likes?”  I pulled gently on her shoulders.  “Down, Jane, down!”

She gave me a doubtful look but lowered head and shoulders obediently.  I stooped to watch.  Her tongue tip appeared, met the folds around Doe’s ample clit hood, and darted back as if burned by the touch.  Wide eyes turned up to mine.  I opened my mouth to encourage her, but her head dropped again.  Her tongue reappeared wider and began to lap.

“Now you’re getting the idea,” I told her.  I watched for a while, then reached under her face, worked three fingers into the sodden vagina, stirred them around and withdrew to slide them over the girl’s tongue.


She hesitated but the fingers were already in her mouth.  The juice soaking them burbled with her suction.

I let her continue briefly.  “Back to the clit now,” I said, straightening up.

Doe’s considerable weight compressed the chair cushion more than I’d expected.  I thought of slipping the telephone book beneath it, except the book was chained to the telephone stand.  I would just have to crouch enough for alignment.  But when a dick sniffs willing pussy, what’s a little extra effort?

Working the knob side-to-side, I slipped into Doe’s wet cavity, causing the surroundings to quiver.  The girl craned her head around to stare upward past my belly.

“Keep licking,” I told her, establishing a slow rhythm.

She returned to her work.  I touched her temples and cheeks, feeling the jawbone flex.  “Lengthen your stroke.  Lap the top of my dick too.”

Her tongue was distinctly warm.  I made my strokes shallow, crouching lower to give it room to work.  Doe’s hips trembled but lay still otherwise, not yet ready to rock.  In the mirror I could see only wiry black hair balled under the girl’s butt cheeks like a long beard.  I wondered whimsically if anyone had ever had pubes so luxurious.

I took a handful of medium brown hair and raised Jane’s head, withdrawing my cock and presenting the knob to her lips.  “Wider,” I advised.

She gaped up at me, I’m confident more in surprise than obedience.  I gave her a thrust all the way to the back of the throat.  Her eyes actually crossed.  She gagged but closed her lips.  I felt her teeth touch me, but she didn’t bite.  I left the long cock in place for a moment while her chin trembled.

“Suck it.”

She backed away slightly, slurping, now with eyes closed.  I began a slow stroke and soon chuckled.  “You’re blushing, Jane.  What’s the matter?  You did almost this much in the car.”

Shaking her head, she held her peace until I withdrew, when she looked up at me and declared testily despite the drool overflowing her bottom lip, “It was dark in the car!”

“You don’t like me watching?”

“It’s … embarrassing in the light.”

I chuckled.  “Not to me!  Slip it back into Doe.”

Her hand snaked up and guided me.  She added, “And it’s longer now than in the car.”

“Maybe Doe can teach you how to avoid gagging.”

She grunted and without being told resumed licking the lumpy clit, extending her tongue to the top of my dick on each partial withdrawal.  She proved a fast study.  This time when I pulled out, she automatically raised her head, opened her mouth expectantly and slurped me in.

I plowed back and forth between the two women for a while, giving each furrow a couple dozen strokes.  At my age most men are good for several minutes of the old in-and-out.  As I am, usually, but this combination of dark marbled thighs hanging off the bed under a bobbing head of brown hair, the alternation between slick loose pussy and raspy tongue in toothy mouth, plus the girl’s gulps and slobbers, was altogether too compelling.  Up came my first squirt, as it happened, into the back of Jane’s throat.  Fortunately she was exhaling.  I pulled it out of her in time for the second and most powerful gush to splash her face, then shoved into the red gash beneath her chin.  In my experience no other semen depository compares to a well-stirred pussy.

Doe must have felt it.  Now her hips began to roll.  I plowed gamely on, pushing the girl’s head down until she was licking again.  Grunts arose from the pure female end of our connection while sphincters squeezed out my last dribbles.  Doe’s wet face finally appeared upside down in the mirror, red mouth gaping for breath.  I smiled with doubled pleasure.  Apparently she had approved our threesome strongly.  I couldn’t recall the last time a whore came on my cock, even though the pussy in this one’s face was probably the stronger reason.

When I finally backed completely away, Jane looked up at me, a streak of thin cream decorating her forehead and dripping from the tip of her nose.  “It swells up,” she said in a tone of confirmation.

“What does?” I asked.

“The bald part on the end.  I noticed it before, just before they shot.  It swells up in your mouth too!”

“Why not?”  I grinned in amusement at her ingenuousness.  If feigned, she was a great little actress.

She shook her head.  “But why should it?  What’s the advantage?”

A fair question!  I remembered my own youthful curiosity.

Her expression of wonder vanished suddenly.  She gasped in shock.  Her mouth fell open and her eyes lost focus.  “Oh, god!” she cried, twisting head and shoulders around.  “What’re you putting into me?”

One of Doe’s elbows, both of which had been elevated around the girl’s back and hips, had disappeared.  In the mirror the reason was obvious.  The big woman had inserted an entire hand, nearly as large as mine, into the young twat.  I stared in fascination at the dark wrist seemingly gripped by inflamed labia.

The girl’s face was nearly as red.  Her mouth, still drooling, hung open but her eyes were clenched shut.  Her body shook to the rhythm of the arm pistonning behind her.  She moaned, a long wavering cry, and hunched her shoulders: a study in thrilling anguish.

I’ve seen the videos of women with whole hands working inside their cunts — three in one case — but such women were typically far older than this girl.  Could they possibly enjoy such distention?  I’d wondered if money was their only reason to submit but doubted the “only.”  Presumably money was Jane’s motive, even if for a cock instead of a whole hand.  Significantly, however, she offered neither word of protest nor move of escape.

Doe had tilted her dark face back to free her mouth.  Her eyes found mine in the mirror.  “You’s the kind who likes this.  Come ’round here and I’ll show you.”

I clambered onto the bed past the wailing girl, whose torso had begun to quiver.  When I paused in a crouch with my head near Doe’s, she sniffed.  “I mean I show yo’ dick, Mick.  Get it down here.”

She had inserted three fingers of her other hand to the knuckles into the girl’s rectum.  She withdrew them, shining greasily in the bright overhead, and looked up at me expectantly from under the gaping anus.

I raised my voice.  “Shouldn’t we ask first?”

“Huh!  She can’t hear you.  Shove it in.  It’s ready.”

I chuckled deprecatingly.  “But I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah.  Well, stick it down here first.”

For a second I thought incredulously that she meant beside her embedded hand, but as my cock approached she caught it with the hand freed from rectal duty and popped it into her mouth.  The thick dark lips puckered around my half-flab.  I recalled standing beside a restaurant table and fucking a whore’s face that was hanging upside down off the edge while my roommate plowed her other end.  I was a lot younger then, but Doe’s tongue and the swell of her throat during deep pushes made up for age.  Maybe it was the strong odor of cunt.  In any case I was firm again in half a minute.

She caught the base and positioned my wet knob against the girl.  At first I met resistance, but that faded and my cock slipped in easily.  I soon discovered that her sphincter was opening and closing to the rhythm of her wails.  Apparently she was coming continually.

The novel circumstances were absolutely fascinating.  My whole belly tingled in appreciation.  I began fucking madly, half a dozen strokes to every one of Doe’s hand.  Jane must have felt the plunging cock.  Her moans became soft screams, gradually growing louder.  Her back and buttocks reddened also.  She bucked backward and forward.  My swinging balls beat Doe’s face.

Now the bed frame was clapping against the wall.  The noise was becoming worrisome.  This cheap motel hardly sported soundproof rooms.  I wondered what the neighbors, if any, would make of such throaty screams.  Would they think of sex or torture?

Obviously this would have to stop.  And it did.  Before I could quite find the courage to deny further indulgence, the girl fell forward, freeing herself both of hand and cock.  Her upper body pitched downward to the floor.  Asshole and cunt gaped, glistening crimson in the center of elevated buttocks.  Her legs had straightened beside me.  Her cunt was perched just above Doe’s.  Her back heaved with heavy breathing.  Otherwise she lay silent and unmoving.

Doe asked with a leer, “How’ja like them goodies?”

“Is she … all right?”

The woman chuckled.  “You done knocked her out.”

“I what?”

“Better go get a glass of cold water.”

I obeyed with alacrity.  When I returned from the bathroom, Doe was sitting up on the end of the bed, cradling the girl in her ample lap.  The contrast of opulent dark and slim pale female flesh would have been interesting under other circumstances.

“She’s out cold,” said Doe.  “Flick some of that in her face.”

I dipped my fingers into the water and obeyed again.  The girl’s eyelids fluttered open.  She looked from me to Doe, eyes round as saucers.  “Oh, god!”

“Where do you hurt?” I asked.

“Hurt?”  She smiled dreamily and shook her head.  “I’ll never hurt again.”

“Yes, you will too,” cautioned Doe.  “You gonna be sore tomorrow morning.”

Jane shrugged.  “I don’t care.  Oh god, I didn’t think just two could do it.”

“Do it?” I asked.

“Send me off.”

Doe studied the girl’s face.  “Send you off where, honey?”

“It’s not a place — unless it’s heaven.  I want to go back.”

Doe shook her head.  “Po’r child.”  She looked up at me.  “Got anything to drink in here?”

“I have a little whisky.”

“How ’bout a slug?”  She gestured to my still erect cock.  “And you ain’t finished.”

The girl’s flush was fading but I saw no reason to doubt the euphoria.  In fact I was curious and wondered if she would talk.  Not many whores will do that believably; most will say only what they think you want to hear.  So I fetched the plastic cups from the bathroom, another glass of water for chasers and the pint flask of bourbon from my jacket.  Doe needed no chaser.  Jane, still in the woman’s lap, took a sip, made a face, and followed a stronger sip with a gulp of water.

“What did you mean,” I asked when she looked up at me, licking her lips, “you didn’t think ‘just two could do it?’  How many did it take before?”

Her eyes narrowed but she answered readily enough, “72.”

“Ah … 72?  72 what?”

“Penises.”  She smiled slightly, eyes distant.  “Actually a lot less.  I was in heaven before half of them could take their turns.”

Doe winked ostentatiously at me.  I understood her meaning: Let me sell you my bridge in Brooklyn.  But the tone and manner didn’t fit with braggadocio.  I made sure to keep my own expression interested, which wasn’t hard.  Even lies about sex are enjoyable when they come from female mouths.

“You’re saying 72 of them took turns?  How do you know.”

“Teague counted them.  He’s gay.”

“Gay?  Why do you say that?”

“He was the only one who didn’t do me.  He made a peephole so he could see what the other boys had.”

“Ah …”  Several possibilities flashed across my mind.  “What exactly happened, Jane?”

“Teague arranged it.  He said nobody goes to the furnace room in the school basement since they put in a gas furnace.  He laid an air mattress on the floor and told the senior class I’d be there.  72 of them sneaked in to see me after dinner.”  She giggled.  “More were waiting their turns when Coach McQuouen broke it up.”

That name finally rang a bell.  “When did this happen, Jane?”

“About a month ago.”

Doe grunted.  “You get your next ragging?”

“Oh, yes.  I’m on the pill.”

Christ, I’d heard this story!  McQuouen wouldn’t name the girl and his report of the numbers was “half the senior class and probably a lot of juniors.”  So our Jane was the one!  I’m sure my eyes betrayed my excitement.  Doe grinned at me knowingly.

I asked, “What happened the next day?”

She shrugged.  “They wouldn’t let me come back to that school.”

Which agreed with McQuouen’s account.  Apparently even without Jane’s presence the place had seethed with prurient propositions and graffiti.

“Whose idea was this, your friend Teague’s?”

“They threw him out too.”

“What made Teague think you’d agree to such a thing?”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Are you going to lecture me too?”

“No, my dear.  Believe me, I admire your pluck.”  Almost as much as I admired my own failure to produce a daughter as plucky, I didn’t say!  “And you picked the right crowd.  High-school boys are about as safe as you can find for a girl on the pill.  But what put you up to it?  You can probably guess how rare it is for a girl to do this.”  I hastened to add, “Though it’s not unheard of.  What line did he use?”

“Line?  Oh.”  She hesitated and chuckled slightly.  “Actually I asked him.”

Did you!”

She took a breath.  “Teague and I grew up together.  He was my first boy.  A grown man caught us together and showed us how … terrific it could be, even though I think he made Teague gay.”  She sighed heavily.  “I tried other boys, but they were too quick for me.  Until six did me at a picnic.”

“Six,” I repeated.  “Was that enough?”

“Almost.  But it gave me an idea.  If a few boys were too quick, how about a whole lot of them?  Oh, wow, did that work!”

“Lucky girl!” I breathed.

Doe snorted at me.

“Not so lucky,” said Jane dolefully.  “They’ve been lecturing me ever since.  One minute I’m the most terrible slut who ever lived and the next …”

“Go on.”

“Oh, what’s the use?  I know it: I suck.”

She lowered her head on the shoulder of the woman, who made soothing sounds.

“But you didn’t suck any of those 72, did you?”

“N-no.”  She looked curiously around at me.  “Didn’t I do it right for you?”

“Well …”

“I’ll learn.”  Her hand dropped to my cock.

Doe shook her head.  “You got a lot to learn, all right.”

“Okay, I’ll learn it.”

“No, you won’t.  Not soon enough.  You ain’t right for this business, honey.”

“Why not?  What am I missing?”

“The right way to look at it.”

“So tell me the right way.”

“Did they throw you out at home too?”

“No.”  The girl’s eyes lowered.  “I ran away.”

“When?” I asked.

“This morning.”  Her eyes flashed.  “And if you try to make me go back, you’ll be sorry.”

No doubt.  “I’ll not make you do anything.  A girl who doesn’t mind my cock in her mouth or up her ass is my kind of girl.”  So long as she belongs to someone else.

She looked unconvinced but shrugged and turned her face to Doe.  “So what’s the right way to think about it?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.  “Like a man.”


“You got to remember who’s paying.  We do this to please him, not us.”

“Well …  Those 72 boys were happy as Christmas.”

“And so was you.  That’s what I’s saying.  You can’t count on getting pleased.  You has to do what he say do, even when yo’ back hurts and you’s so sore you can’t stand the thought of no more dick.  But you run away ’cause you wanted to find the likes of them boys, didn’chou?”

“I … yes.”  The girl smiled brightly.  “And I did find it!”

“Mick and me, we ain’t what you mostly gonna find, gal.  And you mos’ likely don’t have the gut for it either.”

The girl pressed her belly.  “What’s wrong with my gut?”

“Oh, the men loves it!  But you gonna catch things that kills you.”


I was taking it all in, unable to recall such a discussion among women of any class.  Was this the trick: get two of them together?  But I detected a hole in this logic.  I asked, “Why aren’t you worried about that, Doe?”

She looked at me with a twinkle.  “’Cause I’s immune.”

I had to laugh.  “Yeah, like I’ve got a ten-inch dick.”

She shook her head.  “Not like that at all, ’cause you shore ain’t.  Amanda — that’s my sister — been to school.  She say the scientists gonna find out that some women, mostly us who’es, has a born-in immunity to the fuck germs.  We’s a good case.  Far back as we can tell, our line is all who’es and none of us was ever sick that way.  We don’t pass it to the johns either.”

“Remarkable!” I said, meaning remarkable that she believed such malarkey.

“Yeah, ain’t it!”  From the twinkle in her eyes I’m sure she caught my drift.

“Why can’t I be immune?” asked Jane.

“’Cause yo’ mammy and granny wa’n’t who’es.”

“How do you know?”  The girl grinned cynically at me.  “You’re right: I do seem different from other girls.  I had to get it from somebody, didn’t I?”

“Speaking o’ getting it,” said Doe, “Mick’s done lost his hard-on.”  She giggled and reached for me.  “Mick’s dick is sick, but Doe’s gonna fix.”

I fended her off, shaking my head.  “Not tonight.  This kind of banging is too strenuous for an old man.”

“You’re not old,” Jane protested.

Doe had gratefully desisted.  She sniggered.  “He likes to hear that.”  She pushed Jane to her feet and stood up.  “Come on.  I’ll show you how to wash so it don’t stink.”

“You can do that?” I asked as they passed before me.

The big woman snickered.  “Well, not too much.”

“One moment.”  I opened my pouch, fished out two fifties and passed them to Jane.  “Your reward, my dear.”

“Oh!” she said, staring at the money.  She took it hesitantly.

“Where you gonna put it?” asked Doe with a sneer.  “You ain’t got a purse or a bra or even panties.”

“Will you hold it for me?”

Doe laughed but choked it off.  She nodded.  “Yeah, honey.  I’ll hold it.  Come on.”

We rode back toward their stand in a contemplative silence.  Jane, oddly cooler to her big companion, sat in the back seat.  Now both reeked of cologne.  I was tempted to ask why they omitted it beforehand, but found that my curiosity had weakened.  As exploratory subjects women become progressively less interesting for the first hour or so after emptying one’s balls.  Of course they soon freshen up again.

I stopped the car under the street lamp where I’d found them, against the curb facing the wrong way.  Doe hopped out and came around to my window.  “I’ll be right here tomorrow night,” she said invitingly.

“That’s too soon.”  I grunted, then smiled to remove the sting.  “But you can bet I’m interested in an immune woman — for more than a quickie too.”

She smiled back.  “Okay.  Keep yo’ dick slick, Mick!”

“I’ll have to write a limerick for you, Doe.  That name should be easy.”

“If it makes me laugh you gets a freebie.  Coming, honey?”

I glanced around at Jane, who sat unmoving in the back with lowered head.  She raised it to look at me beseechingly.  “Can you drop me, Mick?  It’s not far.”

“Sure.”  To Doe I said, “She wants me to drop her somewhere.  See you around.”

Doe backed away.  “You better watch out, Mickey.”

“For what?”

“Just watch out.”  She turned her face away and plodded towards her lamppost.

I pulled away from the curb and turned a quizzical glance over my shoulder.  “Doe thinks you’re up to something.”

“I heard her,” said the girl.

“And she’s holding a C-note for you.”

Obviously the money wasn’t important.  Jane asked, “Can I talk to you?  How about if I get in the front?”

“Okay.  I’ll stop at the next traffic —”

But she swung legs and ass lithely over the CD console and plopped into the empty seat.

“You’re very graceful, Jane.  I thought only a kid could do that.”

“I guess I’m not much more than one,” she said darkly.

“How much more?”

“I’m 15.”

“You’re … 15?”

She waved a hand.  “Don’t let it worry you.”

“I thought you said you’re a senior.”

“I’m a junior.”

“Isn’t 15 too young for that?”

“I’m bright.  I skipped a couple of grades.”

“And you ran away from home this morning.  Good god!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Your picture has probably already been plastered on TV.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m going back home.”

“Ah …  That’s good.  For you.”

“Why did you say it like that?”

“Ah, uh …  Like what?”

“I know about statutory rape.  I told you, don’t worry.  I promise I won’t tell anyone what I did today.”

“What did you do today?”

She sighed.  “Spent most of it in the library, trying to get up the courage to go out on the street.  When I told myself I suck enough times, I finally did it.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“Yes.  An old man fed me supper.”

“Is that how he paid you?”

“I guess.  Oh, you mean —  He didn’t do anything but lick on me in the alley behind the restaurant.”

“You didn’t blow him?”

“He only wanted to lick.  He said he loved the taste of young … stuff.  You’re the first to be in my mouth since …  And you are the first in my back place.”

“I’m honored.”

“I can tell,” she said sarcastically.  She took a deep breath.  “I listened to what Doe said.  I’m sure she’s right about this.  But what can I do, Mick?  Where can I find the … trip to heaven again?  And don’t mention boyfriends.  What a joke they are!”

I thought about her question.  “You do know, don’t you, that Doe was as responsible for your pleasure tonight as I was — maybe more so.”

“Queer shit!” she snarled, her first unladylike utterance.  “Doe stuck her fingers and thumb up me in the car.  I stood it for a while.  But sucking on you …  Just smelling your thing makes me wet.

“I know what you want to say: she put her whole hand in me.  Her whole hand!  I wouldn’t have believed it.  I hate to think about it.  I let her get away with it because of you.  But I knew when you got into the back place.  That’s what really sent me!”

I silently paraphrased the bard: Methinks she doth protest too much.

Until her next words.  “Mick, can you help me?”


“Get me more men.”

My turn to gape.  What a question!

What an opportunity!  I’m not queer, but sharing a woman with a congenial man has always been my greatest turn-on.  Once I even managed it with four men at once.  God!  But the right men are as hard, perhaps harder, to find than the woman willing to indulge them.

I said cautiously, “Jane, you’re only fifteen.  Some of the men I know who might be interested have daughters that age.”

I felt her eyes.  “You think that would stop them?”

I chuckled.  “Maybe not.  How did you get so cynical?”

“You can guess how: the man who taught Teague and me had two daughters about my age.  He liked to pretend I was one, then the other.”

“A relative, was he?”

“I’ll say nothing to harm him.  Then you do have some men for me!”

“Yes.  The trouble is, they’re well known to a lot of people.  And I don’t see how you could stay home and play this game.  You can’t keep running away.”

“I’ll run away just one more time.  Your friends could set me up in an apartment in the suburbs.”  Her voice brightened.  “I’ll get a wig and makeup.  This could be fun!”

I said dryly, “You’re 15, all right.”

“Well, I am!  Turn to the right.”

My headlights swept over a tall, wrought-iron fence facing the full length of the block.  When I straightened up, she said, “Let me out in front of the gate.”

But I recognized it.  A cold chill went over me.  I maintained speed.

“Stop!  Where are you going?” she demanded, punching my shoulder.

“You live there, do you?”

“Huh?  Yes.  Let me out!”

“Is your name by any chance Jane Hanville?”

She ducked her head and said sullenly, “Jane is my middle name.”

I took the next left and stopped beside Lexington Park, thankfully deserted at this hour of the night.  “Jane, what in the world am I going to do with you?”

“I told you: make me your kept woman.  Isn’t that what you call it?”

With a sigh I unlocked the doors, suggesting pointedly, “It’s not far and the streets are empty.”

“Why won’t you drop me?”

“Because I can’t believe no one is watching the gate, even if the mayor has hesitated before calling the police.”

“Oh.  You know my father.”


“Does he know you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, how can I get in touch with you?”

“Talk about the luck of the draw!”  I laughed bitterly.  “Why fight it?  I guess you can call my office.”

“What’s the number?”

“I don’t know.  Look it up.  I’m your father’s commissioner of police.”



Contact: kellis@dhp.com

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