Collecting Bottles, Cans & FriendsbySusanJillParker©
This is an Earth Day contest story. Please vote.
Homeless and destitute, prostituting herself for money to survive, a woman collects bottles and cans, while making friends.
"Hi," said the man to Susan passing by her in the alleyway, while staring.
Accustomed to men staring at her, such an unusual sight to behold, men don't normally see a woman who looks like her, especially in an alleyway as dirty as this, collecting bottles and cans.
"Hi," said Susan turning her attention away from what she was doing to size him up with a streetwise look to see if he was a threat or a danger to her. Immediately accessing him as harmless, she went about her business of picking through the trash for bottles and cans.
"What's a good looking woman like you," he said stopping dead in his tracks to stare at her, "doing here in this dirty, rat infested alley digging through the trash?"
She turned again to look at him. Typical of him to not make eye contact with her, as if his eyes were lasers burning two holes in her shirt, instead he stared at the impressions her nipples made in her bra through her blouse. Feeling the heat of his stare, she folded her arms across her breasts to preserve the last bit of her modesty, something else already stolen from her, when first homeless. Knowing men in the way she does, no doubt, he thought that her high beams made an appearance just from the sight of him, but he'd be wrong. She was just cold.
"A new line to go with the times," she said with a chuckle, "what's a good looking woman doing in a dirty, rat infested alley digging through the trash? I'm collecting bottles, cans, and making friends. I've already collected some bottles and cans," she said holding up her plastic bag full of bottles and cans, "and now, just having met you, I made a friend. Actually, I'm just doing my fair share to clean up the neighborhood," she said with a sad laugh, unable to continue the pretense.
"Are you an environmentalist? Are you one of those people helping everyone to conserve in the hopes of saving the planet and donating whatever you collect to your cause? Global warming and all of that," he said with a wave of his hand, as if he needed his hand to punctuate his stupidity, "is that it?"
Obviously thinking that her feeble attempts to help save the planet were fruitless, he looked at her and laughed. No doubt, wanting to believe that she was someone that she wasn't, wanting to believe that she was more than his perception of her and she was, of course, perhaps he had trouble with the idea that a beautiful woman could be homeless, but she was.
"An environmentalist? Hardly," she said with a laugh, "I'm unemployed. I'm homeless. I'm tired. I'm cranky and I'm hungry," she said with sadness and with a bit of anger to her voice. "Having already swallowed my pride, no longer too proud to beg, I do whatever I can for a few dollars, even if it's digging through yucky trash for a few coins collected from discarded bottle and can deposits."
In the way that he looked at her, as if she was a decadent dessert, it wasn't her desperation or the fact that she was unemployed, homeless, tired, or hungry that stopped him in his tracks, no doubt, but her admitted need for a few dollars, along with the fact that she was stunningly beautiful.
"Always one to help the homeless, I'll gladly give you a few dollars," he said with a smile and a sly, unabashed pause, "for a feel of your tits."
When she turned to look at him, he walked over to her, while looking up the alley, before looking down the alley.
"You help me with a handful and I'll help you with a handout, so to speak," he said in his attempt to make light of her desperate situation, while trying to take advantage of her. He covered his insensitivity to her sad struggle with a shrug and a nervous laugh.
"I see," she said resting her bag of bottles and cans in the street. "For a feel of my tits, you'll give me money? Is that it?" Obviously, something that hadn't occurred to her before, that she had something to sell that someone would buy, she looked down to where he was staring at her tits.
"Yeah, sure, you have great rack. Definitely, I'll give you some money for a feel of your big boobs."
"How much?" She looked at him, as if he was a potential buyer at a yard sale.
"Two bucks to touch these?" She moved her folded arms from her breasts and stuck out her tits more. "Trust me, the feel of these breasts are worth much more than two dollars, Mister," she said cupping her breasts in her palms and lifting them through her blouse and bra, before looking at him with the flair of a Supermodel with a bad attitude.
"It's just a feel," he said taking another step closer.
"You a cop?" Susan surveyed the alley again to see if anyone was coming.
"Me a cop? No, I'm not a cop. I only wish I had a more exciting job," he said with a laugh. "I'm an accountant for an insurance company. Boring, but at least I have a job in this tough economy. So, what do you say? I'll give you two bucks for a feel of your tits."
"Yeah, sure, why not?" Immediately doing the math in her head, two bucks was equal to collecting 40 cans and bottles, a huge amount to collect for such a small amount of money. "But two bucks will only buy you a ten second feel of one of my tits."
A victim of circumstances in dire need of money, having dropped so low so fast, she was now relegated to being groped in a back alley for money by a stranger. A dangerous game to play, especially if coming across the wrong man, someone who wanted more for less, for two dollars, she took the chance. If she wasn't so hungry, she'd be saddened, embarrassed even, that a feel of her one of breasts was only worth two bucks, but just as her destitution hardened her exterior, her desperation softened her modesty.
"Agreed," said the man looming closer.
Immediately, he reached out his hand to feel her breast and Susan took a step back.
"The money first, Mister."
"Oh, okay. Sorry," he said pulling two wrinkled dollar bills from his pant pocket and handing them to her.
After she took possession of the money, he took possession of her breast with a touch, a grope, and a feel. Acting as if he was feeling a tit for the first time in his life, acting as if he was feeling his mother's or his sister's breast, he cupped her bra clad, C cup boob in his hand with exuberant excitement. He felt the weight of her breast though her blouse, before caressing it through her bra and running a stubby finger across her emerging nipple.
"Okay, that's enough, Mister. That's all you get for two bucks," she said recoiling from his touch, while stuffing the money in her jeans.
Obvious by his leering stare, excited enough to part with more money for more feels, he took a harder and longer look at her.
"If you willingly allowed me to feel your tit for two dollars, what would I get for five dollars?" He retrieved a five dollar bill from his pant pocket and held it in the air, as if he was holding a hundred dollar bill. "Would you show me your tits for five dollars?"
"No, not for five dollars but, instead of a down blouse view, I'll give you an open blouse view. I'll unbutton my blouse and show you my cleavage and my bra for five dollars," she said waiting for him to respond, before unbuttoning her blouse. "How's that for five bucks?"
"Okay, but for five dollars I have to feel your tits through your bra, both of them, this time, not just one," he said leering at her.
"Okay but give me the money, first, Mister," she said holding out her hand, as if she was a fruit vendor in the market selling melons instead of selling the feel of her breasts.
He handed her five dollars and she stuffed the bill in her pocket, before unbuttoning her blouse. Already having pocketed seven dollars, she quickly did the math in her head. Equating bottles and cans with dollars and cents, instead of how much she made per hour, when working at a job, she'd have to collect 140 bottles and cans to earn seven dollars. Between collecting the bottles and cans and returning them for their deposits, it would take her several, long hours to make the money that she just made in a few minutes of him fondling her tits through her bra. What would have disgusted her enough before to deny him a feel of her breasts, when she was gainfully employed, suddenly appealed to her now.
Giving him his money's worth with a unhurried striptease show, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, while hoping he'd want more. After living in a shelter and sleeping in a room with dozens of others, with her modesty diminishing as her desperation increased, she'd show him whatever he was willing to pay to see. Maybe for ten bucks, she'd unhook her bra and show him her naked breasts. As morally ruined as she was financially bankrupt, what difference did it make to show some guy her breasts, whether in a shelter or in a back alley, especially if he was willing to pay for the privilege? She's done worse with a stranger picking her up in a bar, making out with him, and having him feel her up in his car, when she had a job and was out on the town with her girlfriends, after having a good time at a CFNM revue show.
As if he was staring at the hands of a magician hoping to discover the secret to a magic trick, he watched her unbutton one slow button of her blouse at a time. She stopped unbuttoning her blouse, as soon as her cleavage and bra were exposed. Then, as if she was Superman stepping in a phone booth to change, as if she was parting a stage curtain at a striptease show, she flayed open her blouse with both hands to reveal what he was so willing to pay to see and to touch.
"Gees, you have great tits, lady," he said wiping a hand across his mouth, as if he was a man dying of thirst, instead of a man hungry for sex. "What's your name?"
"No names, Mister. Now that you've seen my tits, go ahead and touch and feel them."
"Actually, I really haven't seen your tits," he said feeling her big boobs through her bra. "I've only seen your bra, your cleavage, and the impressions that your nipples make in the material," he said pulling one of her nipples out through her bra with his thumb and index finger.
"Ow," she said recoiling and taking a step back from his rough touch. "Hey, take it easy, Mister. Those nipples are attached to my breasts."
"Sorry," he said looking at her with a lustful stare. "How much more money for you to lift up your bra and show me your tits?" He took a step forward to trace her long line of deep cleavage with his finger, before dipping his fingertip inside her bra, no doubt, trying to finger her nipple, but Susan stepped back again.
"Ten bucks for me to show you my tits, Mister," said Susan immediately responding.
"Ten bucks? Okay, but I get to touch feel, fondle, and suck not just one but both of them."
"Uh, uh. Ten bucks just to see them. It's another ten bucks for you to touch them, feel them, fondle them, and suck them."
"Okay, so lemme get this straight. For twenty bucks, you'll not only show me your tits but also I can play with and suck your tits."
"Yeah, for twenty bucks you can enjoy my tits, but for only five minutes."
"Five minutes? Twenty bucks for ten minutes. That's two bucks a minute."
"Uh, uh. Ten bucks just to see them and another ten bucks to play with them and to suck them for five minutes. Take it or leave it, Mister," she said looking at the man's watch hoping that he'd agree to the deal.
Already having spent the money in her head, she thought of all the food she could buy with twenty-seven dollars. An impossible feat, she'd have to find, collect, and return for deposit, five hundred and forty bottles and cans to earn twenty-seven dollars. If he said no, she'd relent and renegotiate her deal to offer him the ten minutes that he initially wanted for twenty bucks. Only, hoping not to be caught by a passing patrol car, she didn't want to delay this public, topless spectacle by exposing her breasts in the back alley for longer than necessary.
"Okay," he said reaching his hand out to lift her bra, "but call me Drew."
"Money first, Drew," she said taking a step back.
The man reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a twenty. Susan took the money and held it up to the light.
"It's real," he said with a laugh.
"You never know, Drew," she said. "I've learned not to trust anyone, especially when it comes to money."
"Well?" He stared at her bra, as if she was a stripper on stage about to get naked.
Susan looked both ways up and down the alley and up at the apartment windows that looked down on the alley, before stepping back and ducking between two dumpsters. Making eye contact with him first, with great aplomb, she ever so slowly unhooked her bra, a front snapper, and separated her bra cups, as if she was Moses parting the Red Sea. She watched his eyes widen, when he saw the miraculous display of her big boobs, in the way that she imagined he would, if her breasts were a big screen HDTV installed on Super Bowl Sunday.
"Wow! Amazing, just amazing. Those are the best tits I've ever seen," he said stepping forward and reaching his horny hands out to touch, feel, fondle, and caress her breasts, while fingering, pulling, and twisting her nipples, before leaning down to suck her tits. "You have fabulous breasts, better tits than any Playboy bunny. Are they real?"
"Yeah, of course, they're real, Drew," she said laughing. "How many homeless women do you know walking around with breast implants?"
Susan watched the seconds tick by on his watch, while thinking of all the food she could buy with $27.00. Then, as the second hand marked the five minute time, as if she was Cinderella fleeing the Prince's ball, she pulled away from him and hooked up her bra.
"That's it, Drew. Times up."
He gave her a sad look that the fun bag playground was closed.
"Wait, hold on," he said reaching down to finger his cock through his pants. "How much for a hand job?"
"A hand job? No way. Uh, uh. Sorry, Drew, I don't do that. I'm not a whore. I'm just hungry."
"Just hungry and not horny?" He looked at her with a face full of perverse lust. "Are you hungry enough to stroke my cock?"
"I'll give you another twenty bucks, if you stroke me, until I cum."
A time when she once wasted twenty dollars to have her nails done, twenty dollars was a lot of money to her now. She looked down at her broken nails and dirty fingers, twenty dollars was 400 cans and bottles. With another twenty dollars, she'd have forty-seven dollars, more money than she's had in a long time. Between the meals she eats at the mission, the food she gets from the food pantry, twenty-seven dollars was enough money to buy groceries and the other necessities of life for a month, so long as she was careful, only bought store specials, and clipped coupons.
"You're not a cop, are you?" She looked one way down the alley and then the other, before looking at the bulbous bulge that his erection made in his pants.
"If I were a cop, would I do this?" Stepping closer to her and now concealed by the dumpster, too, he unzipped his pants, reached his hand inside, and pulled out his stiff dick. "A cop would never show you his prick. That's entrapment," he said watching her stare as his exposed cock, while stroking himself to a bigger and harder erection. "With the money that I've already given you, plus another twenty for a hand job, you could buy more drugs."
"I don't do drugs. I don't even drink. I'm only doing whatever I can do to survive, until I can find a job," she said still staring at his exposed prick.
It had been a long while since she had seen a man's cock, never mind stroked a man's cock. The sight of his exposed prick didn't make her horny; it made her sad.
"Well, with the twenty-seven dollars that I've already given you and with another twenty dollars for a hand job, you could fill your cart with food, instead of with empty bottles and cans."
"Okay, but just a hand job. I'm not going to suck you, Drew," she said reaching out her hand for the money.
"Yeah, yeah, just a hand job, but I need to play with your tits, while you stroke me," he said reaching out to unhook her bra.
"Uh, uh, that's another ten bucks, Drew, thirty more dollars, altogether to play with my breasts, while I masturbate you."
"Okay, okay, but even if there's someone coming, unless that someone is a cop, you can't stop stroking me, until I cum," he said reaching in his wallet to pull out the last of the money that he had and handed it to her. "I'm glad I already had my lunch, 'cause I'm broke, now," he mumbled, while holding out his empty wallet and looking at her, as if he had just realized how she must feel being unemployed, homeless, and penniless.
"Agreed," she said stuffing the thirty dollars in her jeans, before reaching out for his cock. "I won't stop stroking you, until you cum," she said, while thinking of herself as a customer service representative and giving her customer a new, albeit sexually sated, sense of customer satisfaction.
Having been a while, since she had a cock in her hand, she missed the feel of controlling a man's excitement with her fingers and hand. Having made so little money collecting bottles and cans, she thought that she may be onto something with this new entrepreneurial touchy feely for money business. A line that she refused to cross, so long as she didn't have to get down on her knees to suck someone's cock in a dirty alleyway and so long as someone didn't rape her, beat the crap out of her, and steal her money, she wouldn't mind trading a few feels of her hot body and giving an occasional hand job to the right man for some much needed cash. With him playing with her tits and fingering her nipples, becoming more actively excited giving him a hand job, she wrapped her dirty fingers around his cock tighter, while stroking him faster. Yet, just wanting to get his hand job over with, she just wanted to get him to cum, so that she could leave, buy some much needed food, and go home to shower away her disgust for what she was relegated to do now for money.
Home? Where was her home? She didn't have a home. Her home was the shelter, that is, when they weren't full and, lately, they've always been full. Between the four legged and two legged rats that prowled the city, unable to sleep on the street, she had to get in line early to make sure she had a bed. If she didn't have the inner strength to survive, she would have given up long ago. Reaching a new low point, giving a hand job to a man she just met for twenty dollars, was something she tried not to think about. Doing what she must do to eat, she wouldn't die of embarrassment from jerking off some guy, but she'd die without food and, having no medical insurance, she couldn't afford to get sick by sleeping out on the street.
Getting his money's worth, Drew was all over her big tits touching them, feeling them, fondling them, caressing them, and fingering her nipples. Then, as soon as he leaned down to suck her nipples, again, and as soon as she reached in his pants to cup his balls, while stroking him faster, she could feel him getting ready to cum. Quickly stepping to the side, while stroking him faster, firmer, and longer, she watched him splash his lust for her all over the brick wall behind her. Just as he finished cumming, she watched someone enter the alley.
"Shit, there's someone coming," he said.
"Hurry," she said putting her tits away.
"Oh, my God, I'm still cumming. That was the best hand job I ever had," he said putting his cock away and zipping up his pants, while Susan was already pushing her cart down the alley and away from him.
* * * * *
Earth Day means different things to different people. Another day of being homeless and exposed to the inner city streets, Susan felt much like the bottles and cans she picked from the trash, discarded and empty. Tired and hungry, while scrounging along gutters and through trash dumpsters for bottles and cans for their deposits, Earth Day to Susan was no different than any other day. Doing more than her share in helping to save the environment and clean up her neighborhood were two positives that never occurred to her. She just needed the money.