Guttersnipes Ch. 01byJAMESBJOHNSON©
ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS
Hank Sanchez, 'The Cuban Cowboy' bought forty acres of old orange grove and went to work turning the ground into a trailer park after he retired from the Air Force. The trailers were old, too, but he repaired them till they were habitable, and rented them by the week to poor people. Plenty of them raised hell about the rent but he told them, "The rent money keeps your place in good condition, pays for all the bullshit you bring to the park, and keeps the whack-jobs out." Hank was talking about what it cost him to keep the cops away and get rid of the worst renters. He built a house at the back of the land, and knew what was going on in his park. He called his trailer park, The Briar Patch.
Hank was the right man for the job. The first fifteen years of his Air Force service he spent in the combat security police murdering terrorists who operated around American bases overseas. Then he did five years as an armorer, repairing and modifying weapons. Towards the end he was trained in the art of collecting military intelligence, and was the wrong boy to fuck with for no good reason. Prowlers from public housing down the road were the first to learn, and soon named Hank's park "The Roach Motel,' though the cops called it 'Hotel California'.
One young man named 'Tony' left his mom's apartment, to prowl around the Briar Patch, and woke up at the bottom of an abandoned phosphate pit with some permanent disability that made walking to the toilet an ordeal. He told detectives, "I don't know what happened, I was walking down the road, and then I was a pretzel."
The cops didn't like it, none. Plenty of others didn't like it, either, and were hostile to his residents competing for customers. Mrs. Hank didn't like it because she said she wasn't cut out to be a slum lord on the poor side of town; and so she hoisted her nose, hiked her panties, and went home to Miami after a year of it. Hank expected trouble, and it came in an attractive package.
Connie didn't look like a crack whore to Hank. She had long, shiny, black hair loaded with Shirley Temple curls; big, white teeth that kinda looked buck; and her body wasn't wasted away like the real deal. In fact she had an extra twenty pounds to play with on her curvy frame and full hips. Plus her makeup didn't look clownish, and her glasses were stylish and tinted. Hank didn't measure her but she looked around five feet tall and 150 pounds. She looked Indian or Pakistani maybe. Not much of that on the street.
Hank smelled a rat but Connie assured him she needed a place where your business is your business and nobody sticks their nose in it.
Hank told her, "I can't agree more; so pay your rent every week, keep your show off the road, stick to your knitting, and life will be swell." So she paid her rent and moved in, and very soon she had him come over to clear a clogged drain pipe. Someone had flushed a plastic cap off a shaving cream can.
Connie squatted in the bathroom doorway as Hank worked. Her skirt was short and rode high up her thighs, and her thin panties failed to conceal much of her charms.
She caught him checking her out, and asked, "Find what you're looking for?"
"No, I was wonderin if it's Friday yet," and winked at her.
That same night she called Hank to come check her circuit breakers, the lights were off. The power box was located in her bedroom closet. He suspected she flipped the breaker 'off' when the lights came 'on' as soon as he reset the breaker.
When he stepped out of the closet Connie was lying on the bed in bra and panties, smoking a cigarette. "I hope you don't mind," she said. The panties were of a thin, fluorescent yellow-green fabric; the bra was of the same thin fabric but coral pink. She had lit a candle.
"Smoke em if you got em! I always say. Call me if you got any more problems." Hank stuck his flashlight in his back pocket, and started for the door.
"Did I say something to anger you?" She asked.
"Not at all," he replied.
"You're not interested?"
"Oh, I'm very interested!" Hank quickly assured her.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I smell a dead rat, something about you ain't addin up right," he said it plain. "If you ever wanna let me in on the joke, you know where I live. But I think the jokes on me, and I don't like it much. I gotta go."
"Wait!" She said.
"What?" Hank replied.
"Come sit down, please." Connie made no effort to conceal her body.
"I'm married to a prominent attorney who can't be less interested in me," she said.
"So get a boyfriend," Hank suggested.
"I can't because I'm a doctor, and everyone who matters knows me. And I don't want a boyfriend. I want sex."
"Okay," Hank said.
"So I got the idea to play hooker and meet guys over the internet for sex. Maybe make some money, too."
"And use the trailer for your dates?" Hank guessed.
"Yes," she replied. "So come sex me." She crushed her cigarette out in the ashtray and lay back on the mattress.
Hank said, "I gotta pee," and went in the bathroom.
When he returned Connie was lying on her stomach beneath a sheet. "Turn the air conditioner down, please." He did. Then lowered the sheet to the middle of her back, exposing her neck and shoulders. Hank had big, muscular hands, and massaged her neck, after moving her hair out of the way.
After a few minutes Hank tugged the sheet to her waist, exposing her back and bra, then kneaded her muscles after unhooking the bra, and letting it fall to her sides, exposing her breasts. She seemed relaxed and comfortable with her legs spread wide and her head resting atop her crossed arms on the pillow. "Next time we bring wine and music, okay?" She suggested.
Hank stopped kneading, pulled the sheet off Connie, and tugged the panties off her hips and down to her feet so he could work on her legs. He bent her legs at the knees, to knead her toes, then lowered her legs to the bed to work his way up her legs till he felt the heat from her pussy, and sense her growing sexual tension. "Turn over," he said.
After she rolled over and lifted her arms. He pulled the bra off the arms and cast it aside. Her eyes were half open, like she was dreaming or high. He pulled the panties off her ankles and tossed them, and looked at her. Connie's small tits looked firm, and her nipples were erect and perky, dark against the lighter skin of her breasts, her body was erupting in goose bumps. Her pussy was covered with a thick bush she kept trimmed.
She squirmed and rubbed her thighs together when he squeezed her black nipples between thumb and index fingers. She kept her eyes closed but arched her back and raised her hips responding to the arousal. Hank sensed Connie wanted to cum, and covered her pubic mound with a hand to rub her clit and labia before he pushed a finger inside her hole. Her hole was wet.
Connie raised her legs, bent her knees, and lifted her ass, responding to the finger on her clit. Hank felt her body tense up as she responded to his caresses. Soon her breath quickened, she bit her lower lip, and gradually relaxed. He bent down and kissed her mouth before he undressed.
Naked, and back on the bed, and between Connie's legs, she cupped his package with her fingers. Then whispered something in her native tongue he didn't understand.
"What?" He asked.
"I say, your penis is nice and fat," she smiled, and removed her mangalsutra. "I don't like to sex you with this on my neck," she said. "My husband give it to me when we get married." Hank lifted her legs and pushed himself into her creamy hole.
Later, Connie put her mangalsutra back on her neck and dressed.
"You know, doncha, that no one's gonna believe you're a whore, with a Mercedes and good teeth?" Hank suggested. "Get your husband to buy you a trailer park."
"Why a trailer park?" She hooked her bra and pulled it around her body till the clasp was in the back, then put her arms through the straps.
"Cuz if you own the place no one is suspicious of the car or you."
And a week later Dr. Connie Shanmugham and her husband, Sammie, made an appointment, to see Hank about becoming a partner. Hank looked at Connie sitting next to her husband, holding his hand, and wearing her short skirt. "Holy Moly! It's Friday already! Where does the week go!"
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