Pretty Baby Ch. 01

"Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Miguel with an impressed chuckle. "Man, you one hot little bitch! You like that, huh?"

I glanced back to his face, blushing with both arousal and a little embarrassment. "It's okay," I said. I touched my chin, feeling it slick, then reached for my purse and pulled out my compact. I stared at my glistening chin in the little mirror. Miguel's cum wasn't white; more like grey, in fact. Of course, maybe that was because it was mixed with my own spit. Tentatively, I massaged it into my chin and cheeks, wiped it up from my neck. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, I sucked my fingers clean.

"So what you think, baby?" asked Miguel, offering his spent dick for one last lick before tucking it away and zipping up.

I looked past him, savoring that last warm drop of cum on my tongue, saw Miguel's blonde-haired friend standing in the now-open stall door. He was giving me an anxious, hopeful look. I felt deliciously naughty as I said, "I think I'd like to see if Rick is as friendly with our seventh president as you are."

Rick grinned upon hearing that, and Miguel stepped back, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "She's good, man," he said. "She's fucking great."

I smiled proudly, bit my lip in excitement as Rick closed the door and turned to me. I could see how excited he was as he unzipped his jeans. "You ready for more?" he asked, pulling out a stiff, long penis, soft blonde hair surrounding the root of it.

I licked my lips, eyeing his penis. "First things first," I said, rubbing my fingers together.

Rick chuckled, dug in his pocket, handed me two crumpled twenty-dollar bills. Happily shoving them in my jeans, I dove for his crotch, hungrily and eagerly filling my mouth with cock for the second time that day, and the second time in my entire life.

***

I headed to work with the lingering flavor of two loads of semen in my mouth and throat, feeling the delectable juices swimming in my stomach. Rick's cum had been a little thicker and slightly sweeter, making me think that not all guys came the same.

My face was slightly blushed as I recalled every vivid moment of my first two blow jobs ever. Every aspect of the act turned me on: the feel of a stiff tube of flesh in my mouth, the musky, manly taste of the skin, the sweet flavor of pre-cum, and that incredible rush of liquid encouragement that rewarded my efforts. But the hottest part of the whole thing . . . .

I had been paid to suck cock. That single thought cascaded through my mind, making me feel so incredibly naughty. I was now, and forever would be, a prostitute.

The idea was deliciously intoxicating. I had power over men, I realized. Power gained by my eager mouth and apparently natural skill.

I couldn't wait to do it again.

I had an incredible night at the restaurant. We sold mainly burgers, sandwiches, and salads, and while most checks rang up at around ten dollars a person, I made 'bank,' averaging over twenty percent in tips per check. Still, in the three and a half hours that I was on the floor, I made just a little less money as a waitress than I had as a prostitute.

I giggled at the thought.Half an hour with a dick in my mouth, and I make more money than three hours taking out food and slinging drinks. I was in rare form that night, giggling and joking with coworkers and guests, flirting with any man who came close enough. I imagined every man I saw with his penis hanging out and waiting for my eager mouth. Such thoughts, and the vivid memories of sucking off Miguel and Rick, kept my panties wet all night.

I left the restaurant just before eight o'clock, since it was pretty slow, after finishing my sidework duties. Wanting to get back to my apartment so I could finger myself silly, I made a beeline for the bus stop. If I hurried, I could be home in half an hour . . . .

My bus was pulling away when I was about twenty feet from it. I called out, yelling to the driver, but he neither saw nor heard me. I cursed, stamping my feet like a little girl, and dragged my heels back to the covered bus stop. I fell down on the bench heavily, pissed that I had to wait another forty minutes for the next run. I was alone in the little booth, which made it worse. I thought about heading back to work and hanging out with my coworkers, but I worried that I would forget the time and miss my next bus.

So I sat there, pouting, watching shoppers as they left the mall, heading to their cars in the parking lot. I want a car, I lamented to myself. I hate taking the fucking bus!

As I looked around, playing Tetris on my cell phone, I noticed an attractive older guy, carrying two big department store bags, heading to a sleek Jaguar that was parked not too far away from where I sat. For a moment, as he placed the bags in his trunk, he looked up, right toward me.

I smiled. He had a handsome face, reminding me of my Uncle Jeff. Strong lines, dark hair . . . maybe he had a little bit of a pudge, but I thought it was kind'a cute.

He smiled back, gave me a little nod. Just then, a chime sounded from my cell phone, telling me I had lost my game. "Shit!" I cursed, and slapped the phone closed. I checked the time: I still had half an hour to wait.

Man, I'm gonna miss the first fifteen minutes of Law & Order, I thought angrily.Stupid bus driver . . . .

A car pulled up in front of the bus stop. The same hunter green Jag. The passenger window slid down smoothly, and a man – my 'Uncle Jeff' clone – leaned over in his seat. "Would you like a ride, young lady?"

Talk about a pick-up line. I had been propositioned many times before as I sat at the bus stop. I had heard from some of the girls I worked with that sometimes, real streetwalkers hung around the mall, acting like they were waiting for a bus. I guess guys figured any young woman sitting in the booth was fair game. And I supposed, dressed in my tight jeans and green tank-top, my work shirt once more invisible in my backpack, I might have appeared as one of those girls.

And instantly, I was.

I had never, ever, considered getting in a strange man's car before. I had been brought up to believe that doing so was dangerous, that any man who offers a girl a ride was a demented serial killer or rapist. But I had a strange intuition about this man in his expensive car. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like my uncle. Or maybe it was because I just felt naughty enough to do what I figured he wanted.

All that went through my mind in about one second. I smiled flirtatiously, taking up my bag, and approached the car. "Sure," I said, and opened the door.

The car smelled of cigarettes and cologne as I slid into the passenger seat. The man behind the wheel held a cigarette between the fingers of his left hand as it rested on the steering wheel. I noticed the wedding band around his ring finger, and wondered about his wife.

"My name's Gary," he said, giving me a smile as he looked me over. His eyes lingered on my chest. He didn't offer to shake hands. His right hand rested on the gear shift.

"Alyssa," I said, my eyes dropping to his crotch automatically. He wore loose, light brown slacks.

He nodded, drove away from the curb. He pulled on his cigarette, blowing smoke. I had never liked cigarettes before, and had only smoked a few times with friends. But suddenly, it seemed attractive. Smoking was something I had always seen 'naughty girls' do.

"Can I have one?" I asked him.

Gary smiled, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and handed it to me along with a blue plastic lighter. I looked the package over, thinking how funny the picture on the cover was.What do camels have to do with smoking?

I took one out, lit it, and breathed in. Having smoked before, I was prepared for the tight feeling as my throat constricted. My lungs convulsed only slightly, trying to force the invader out, but I suppressed it. I exhaled smoke, tasting the tobacco and nicotine. I handed Gary his cigarettes and lighter, pulled a few more times on my smoke. The rush hit me about thirty seconds later, making my body tingle.

"So, uh, where are you going?" he asked.

I gave him a smile. I don't know why, but I could tell that I was calling the shots. Gary wanted something from me, and he would do whatever it took to get it. I was in control, and I loved it.

"Home," I said, and figured there was nothing wrong with telling him where I lived. My apartment complex consisted of thirty-six buildings, after all. I could have Gary drop me off at the entrance gate, and he would never know exactly where I lived.

But, there was something to be done, first . . . .

"So, um, you work at the mall?" he asked.

I smiled, falling into the role. "Sometimes."

He nodded, turning the wheel. I got the impression he was nervous. "So, um . . . you a cop?"

I frowned.What a silly question!"No," I said with a soft laugh.

"Can you prove it?" he asked.

I stared at him, wondering why he would even . . . and then it dawned on me.Oh, right. I knew from watching Law & Order that cops sometimes posed as prostitutes to make busts. One of my favorite episodes was about that. "How?" I finally asked.

He looked around at the sparse traffic on the street. There weren't too many cars on the road, and the sun had long gone down. "Show me your tits," he suggested.

I hesitated a moment. I had always been sensitive about my breasts. Girls who had seen me in the showers in high school called me 'Puff' because of my big, fat areolas. They stuck out about half an inch from my B-cups and were about the size of espresso cup saucers. But if showing this guy my breasts was how it was done . . . .

I pulled up my top, glancing around nervously outside the car. I was both apprehensive and excited about this little act of exhibitionism. Gary alternately watched me and the road as I reached behind and fumbled with the clasp of my bra. I got it undone, then pushed my bra up, leaning back as my breasts were completely exposed. The cool night air rushing over them made my nipples stiffen even more.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, his eyes glazing. I didn't stop him as, for the first time, a man touched my naked breasts. He cupped the left one, squeezing it gently with his fingers, rubbing his palm against my sensitive nipple. I sighed, pushing my tit against his hand. It was encouraging and arousing that Gary seemed so turned on by my pear-shaped titties.

"Jesus, baby, you're gorgeous," he said, groping my other breast. I just moaned softly, lifting my hands to push his more firmly against my tits. I stroked his forearm, let my left hand wander to his upper thigh. He automatically parted his legs. I knew he wanted me to touch his cock.

So I did, leaning closer, surprised at how bold I suddenly was. I felt his stiff penis through his slacks. The simple feel of that hardness was intensely thrilling. He was erect, and it was because of me. My pussy started getting wet again.

Gary was breathing hard, one hand on my tits, the other on the steering wheel as he drove. I massaged his crotch, feeling that stiff rod against my hand. I wanted to see it . . . God, I wanted to suck it so bad!

"Hey, uh, lemme just, um, hit a gas station and grab some condoms, okay?" he said, squeezing my left tit again.

I jerked my hand back and sat up, staring at him anxiously. "Condoms?"

He nodded, not looking at me. "Yeah, of course," he said, taking a corner. "I only do it with condoms."

I was quiet.Sex, I thought.He wants to have sex. He wants to fuck me. I felt nervous, scared. I hadn't thought he would want that. I didn't want to give up my cherry like this.

"What's wrong?" he asked, finally looking back at me as I pulled my bra back down over my breasts. Then he seemed to understand, at least a little. "Oh. You don't fuck, huh? Just head?"

I stopped, biting my lip, giving Gary an apologetic look. "Yeah. Just head," I said. "Is that okay?"

Gary shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said. I could tell he was disappointed. I thought his reaction strange. Every guy I ever knew would give their right testicle for a good blow job. And here I was, offering . . . and he was disappointed?

"Something wrong?" I asked.

Gary sighed, then smiled at me. "No, nothing wrong, it's just . . . I've never, uh, well . . . I can't cum from a blow job."

That surprised me. "Really?"

"It's okay," said Gary, pulling off the main road into a middle school parking lot. The place was deserted. "You can suck it for a while, it feels really good, but I'll just have to, well, finish with my hand."

I looked down. "Oh."

Gary parked the car beneath a tree, but close enough to a street light so we could both see inside the car. Without much ado, he pushed his seat back, unsnapped and unzipped his slacks, and shoved them down his knees along with a pair of dark blue boxers. His dick stuck almost straight up, sleek and pale and fully circumcised. The sight of it turned me on.

"Can I touch your tits?" asked Gary, leaning back in his seat.

I smiled. "Sure," I said, and slipped off my tank. I pulled off my bra, suddenly and for the first time topless with a man. My puffy nips swelled with excitement.

"Oh, baby, you've got the hottest tits I've ever seen," he murmured, reaching with both hands. Swiftly, he leaned over and cupped his mouth over my left nipple, sucking it and my thick areola in its entirety into his mouth. I gasped at this new sensation, automatically pushing against his face and cradling Gary's head.Oh, Jesus that feels so good!

Gary mumbled and moaned as he sucked my tits, moving back and forth, groping, licking, fondling, sucking. I eagerly offered him my breasts, getting hotter and hotter as I watched his lips wrap around my puffies. My pussy twitched and spasmed, and I couldn't help but press my hand between my legs, rubbing through my jeans.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Uhhhmmm . . . ." I moaned aloud as I came, and Gary kept sucking my tits, pulling on them hard, and in the midst of my orgasm, jammed his fingers into my crotch, pushing my hand aside and digging through the denim. I gasped and hissed, humping his hand. I clutched his head close, shaking as I crested the summit of orgasm.

I was instantly overcome with lust, becoming a totally different woman. I pushed Gary back into his seat and leaned over him, aggressively grabbing his stiff dick. He stared at me with a mixture of awe, surprise, and desire. I don't know where the words I next said came from:

"I'm gonna suck your fucking cock and make you cum in my mouth," I declared, then went down wantonly, taking his cock between my lips and sucking hard. I bobbed up and down, possessed by my desire to taste him. Gary moaned, one hand on the back of my head, the other groping my breasts as I mouth-fucked him.

I took every last little inch of his manhood in my mouth, feeling the smooth head prod my throat as my lips wrapped around the base. I felt the reflex to gag, but suppressed it, and pushed down even more. Gary moaned loudly as the head of his dick popped right into my throat. I felt my air suddenly cut off, and my eyes bulged slightly. But still I sucked, wanting every bit of his cock in my mouth.

His balls were musky, hairy, tickling my nose. I ran my fingers across them, massaging, caressing. Gary shuddered, moaning again, pushing my head down further. I loved the feel of his cock sliding down my throat. But after a few moments, I had to breathe.

I slid up, pulling Gary's dick out of my throat, and sucked hard as I took in deep breaths through my nose. Filling my lungs with air, I pushed back down, making a wet popping sound as his dick went all the way in once more. I bobbed fast and hard, my esophagus rippling around the head of his penis. I felt the steering wheel against my bangs, Gary's firm grip on my left tit.

Back and forth like that I went, for several long, sweet minutes, taking Gary all the way down, then moving back up and massaging the head with my lips and tongue. I loved the way Gary gasped and moaned, as overcome with lust as I was.

"Oh, shit! Oh, God! B-b-b-baby! Oh, ffffuccckkkk . . . ."

I felt the surging through his shaft, the way his cock became incredibly stiff in my mouth. I slid my mouth up until just the head was trapped between my sucking lips, and stroked his slick shaft hard with my hand. I had developed an instinct for giving head, I realized. I knew just what to do to maximize a man's orgasm.

Into my mouth, thick and rich and sweet, surged Gary's sperm. He shook and moaned loudly, arching his back, relishing the sensations I gave him. I sucked and pulled, stroked and squeezed, getting every little bit of that creamy treat. Only the third load of cum to be spent in my mouth, and I was already addicted to the flavor.

My mouth-work on his penis proved too much, however, and he begged me to stop, pulling on my head. Giving his spent dick one last, hard suck, I let it pop out of my mouth as I lifted up. I sighed in satisfaction, swishing his manly load in my mouth. His cum was the sweetest yet, and fairly thick as well.

For a few moments, as I petted Gary's spent and wilted dick, running my hands over his soft, pudgy abdomen, I just held his cream in my mouth, savoring it. I smiled at him, enjoying the stupefied reaction on his face. Then, staring him in the eye, I sucked in my cheeks and made a loud gulping sound as I swallowed his load. I could feel the warmth of it in my chest as it oozed down to my stomach.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Y-you swallow?"

I licked my lips and smiled in satisfaction. "Mm-hmm," I moaned, then leaned over and licked a last little bubble of cum from his dick. I showed Gary the creamy white dollop on my tongue before sucking it down with a sigh. Being so naughty and dirty turned me on so much more than I had ever thought it could.

Gary laughed, sagging back in his seat. "Oh my God," he breathed out. "I can't believe it. You did it, baby." He sat up, giving me a worshipful look. "In all my life, I've never cum from a blow job. How'd you do that?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Just a gift, I guess."

He swooned. "Baby, please," he said with such sincerity. "I know I shouldn't ask, but . . . I gotta have your phone number. Please. I promise I'll be discreet."

I thought about it a moment, then nodded, and gave him my cell phone number. Then I looked at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, then smiled sheepishly as he understood. He dug into his jeans, pulled out a wad of cash. He peeled off two twenties and a ten, handed them to me. I was impressed.

"You're that good, baby," he said.

I just smiled and gave him a little kiss. Then I kissed his dick one last time before he pulled up his slacks.

***

I thought about my experiences over the following few days. Three times in one day, I had given head in exchange for money, making me aprostitute. That word, which had always held a seedy, dark reputation, now seemed almost like a badge of honor. More than the act of giving head, more than taste of cum, what aroused me the most was being so decadent and wicked as to take money in exchange for the pleasures of my mouth.

Still, twelve years of Catholic guilt were difficult to overcome, and I felt shame andwickedness(as my father had always called it) as I thought about what I had done. I fell back into my mode of being the shy, quiet one at school and work. While I still flirted as I had always done, I toned it down, and kept to myself.

On Saturday morning, before my lunch shift at work, I got off the bus before St. Andrew's. The towering steeple of the church loomed over me like the condemning hand of God. Guilt over my actions three days before washed through me with the strength of Noah's flood. I could hear Bible verses repeated in my head in my father's voice.