Hand Job Slut Ch. 01

"Let's go!" he said. "Where to? Do you have an apartment nearby?"

"No, follow me," she said, taking him by the hand. She dragged Curt toward the men's room, but it was occupied. In fact, the door was open, and she could see one man peeing in the toilet, and two others peeing in the sink. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for a ladies' room. There had to be one. Ah, there it was. Since Nancy was the only woman in the entire bar, it was unlikely to be occupied. She dragged Curt inside.

Curt was grinning like an idiot, and quickly dropped his pants and his underwear. His cock was already growing stiff and long. Nancy looked him in the eye. "Money first, Curt," she said. He fished in his pants on the floor and found his wallet, and handed her a crisp twenty dollar bill. She stashed it in her purse.

Nancy grabbed him by the hips and moved him in front of the toilet. She put the lid down and sat on it, facing his crotch. She reached one hand beneath his scrotum, and gently tickled his balls, while her other hand gently petted the top of his cock. Curt began to purr. She closed her top hand around his shaft, and stroked the length of it while her lower hand continued to massage his testicles. After a few back and forth strokes, she added a twisting motion to the shaft stroke, with an especially strong twist each time she crossed the rim of the cock head. That move was more than Curt could handle, and it had him shuddering and twitching. She didn't want him to cum too quickly; she was afraid he'd want his money back! She shortened her stroke and concentrated on the shaft, avoiding the sensitive head and rim on most of her strokes. Every five or six strokes, though, she gave his rim the full twist treatment. It always drove him crazy!

Nancy kept up this rhythm for what she estimated was about five minutes. That should give him his money's worth, she figured. She lengthened her stroke again to include his rim on every pass, and he started to go crazy again. "Cum for me, Curt," she said, in her sexiest possible voice. "See my thighs? My naked white thighs? I want you to cum all over them." She'd heard that line in "Tug Job Cuties 2" and made a point of remembering it. That was all it took; with the very next stroke, Curt blasted off and drenched her thighs with his pearly ejaculate. She continued to hold onto his cock while it softened and shriveled. Then she unrolled a wad of toilet paper and cleaned herself off.

"Wow, you are good!" Curt told her. "Do you mind if I tell my buddies? They're all horny, too."

"Tell all your friends," she said. "I'll be right here." Curt finished zipping up and ran out the door.

In a few minutes there was a knock, and the door swung open.

Nancy took home $200 that night. And that was after giving twenty to Carl for her beer, and for his kindness of the previous week. On the way home, she stopped at a late-night convenience store and bought a pint of Häagen-Dazs butter pecan ice cream and ate it all while watching a late movie on her little black and white twelve inch television in her tawdry apartment.

The next day, Nancy went out and restocked her kitchen with ramen noodles and generic diet cola. She even splurged on some store-brand macaroni and cheese. She also went to a drug store and bought some lipstick and eye shadow, and some cheap flowery perfume. Then she sent a check to the power company, so she wouldn't need to live in fear of her lights going out at any moment. Then she took a nap.

She woke up as the sun was starting to get low in the sky. She put on her slut outfit again, including her new cosmetics and her fragrance. She looked in the mirror. Yes, she was tarted up real good. It was Saturday night, and she expected a good crowd at the sleazy bar across the street from the laundromat.

That night she came home with almost $400.

Later that night, lying naked in her bed, after jerking off twenty different men at the sleazy bar across the street from the laundromat, Nancy experienced a strange sensation. It was somewhere in the middle of her body, deep inside. She didn't know how to describe it; a sort of hollow feeling. She didn't like it at all. She squeezed her thighs together, and that made it subside a little. She squeezed her thighs tighter and tighter, but it wouldn't go away. And there was also a sadness that came with the feeling, and a loneliness. But she wasn't sad about anything. Still, the aching in her loins and the hollowness in her heart continued. Then she realized what it was. She was horny!

Nancy had never been horny before in her entire life. She had never wanted to have sex. She only performed it now for the money, if you even count hand jobs as sex. But now she was horny as hell. She kicked the sheet from her body, and jammed her fist into her crotch. She rubbed her pussy, trying to alleviate the horrible feeling. That only made things worse. She stuck a finger inside her pussy, as deep as it would go. No help.

She ran into the kitchen, looking for something, anything, that would reach deep enough into her loins to scratch this terrible itch of horniness. But there was nothing in the cupboard but packages of ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese. There was nothing in the refrigerator but cans of generic diet cola and a bottle of ketchup. She lifted the bottle of ketchup in her hand. No, too cold, she thought, and put it back.

She ran into her tiny bathroom, and scanned over her collection of toiletries. Her shampoos and body lotions were all in economy size containers, far too large. Her lipstick was way too small. She rummaged through her medicine cabinet. There was nothing there but a box of band-aids, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush. The hairbrush was plastic, with a long, round, ridged handle. Perfect.

Nancy ran back to the bedroom, hairbrush clutched in her fist. She lay down on her back, with her knees up and spread, her feet flat on the sheet. She jammed the handle of the hairbrush into her pussy, as far as it would go. She sawed it in and out, and rotated it at the same time. The ridged surface stimulated the walls and lips of her aching pussy. With her other hand she rubbed her clit furiously. Occasionally, she would take her hand off her clit and pinch her nipples, one by one, but always returned to rubbing her clit. The ache inside her did not go away, but it started to become tolerable. As she continued to fuck herself with the hairbrush and to rub her clit, she felt her cheeks begin to flush. A wave of warmth suffused her plump little body and her knees started to tremble. Suddenly a wave of intense pleasure washed over her, starting at her pussy and emanating outwards in all directions. She was experiencing her first orgasm ever. A tiny squeak escaped her throat, and her legs clenched tightly on her hands and on the hairbrush. She stayed that way, motionless, for a long time. The ache inside of her had gone to sleep. It wasn't gone, but it was quiet for now. She could live with that. She soon fell asleep herself.

For the next few months, Nancy spent every Friday night and Saturday night working at her new profession. She branched out to some nicer bars, too, where the clientele was more likely to be clean and polite. But she always spent at least one night per weekend at the sleazy bar across the street from the laundromat, and she always gave Carl a big tip. She bought some nicer clothing, and paid off all of her overdue bills. But she put most of the money away, knowing she would need it for tuition and books before too long.

The ache of horniness occasionally bothered her, but she kept her plastic hairbrush handy. It never killed the ache, but it always helped to put it to sleep. She knew that someday she would have to deal with it, once and for all, but for now, she was happy to keep it at bay with her hairbrush.

Some of her customers told her that she should charge more than twenty dollars. They said that she was extremely good, and that her hand jobs were worth much more. But she never considered raising her price. She'd been so poor for so long that twenty dollars sounded like a lot of money to her. And she was afraid she'd drive off some of her poorer customers if she charged more. Besides, she could easily make a hundred dollars or more in an hour on a busy night, and that was plenty of money for her.

One night, a Friday, she was at the sleazy bar again, holding court in the ladies' room. She rarely bothered to sit at the bar anymore; the regulars all knew that all they had to do was walk into the ladies' room and they could get a hand job for twenty dollars. After about five or six customers, the door opened again, and in waddled a large, corpulent man with yellow fingernails and yellow, uneven teeth. In a rough voice, he said, "Is this the place where you can get a hand job for twenty dollars?"

Nancy recognized him immediately. He was that same asshole who had refused to pay her on her very first night in here! Apparently, he didn't recognize her, though. Either he was too drunk that first night, or maybe he was too drunk tonight. Or, more likely, both. Nancy just nodded and stuck out her hand. "Money first, please," she said sweetly.

The fat man pulled a large wad of bills out of his trouser pocket and peeled off a twenty. Nancy was glad to see that he had plenty of money. She stashed the bill in her purse and motioned him over to stand in front of her as she sat on her hand job throne. He dropped his pants. He still didn't wear any underwear. His tiny dick looked the same as before, too, but now Nancy was experienced enough to know how small it was.

Nancy wrapped her right hand around his cock, and cupped his balls in her left. She began massaging and manipulating them. His cock grew in her palm, and his breathing became fast and short. His belly jiggled. She stroked and twisted his shaft, she fondled his balls, first slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. She twisted the tiny head on the end of his dick like it was a miniature doorknob, making him gasp with pleasure. She encircled his shaft with her thumb and forefinger of both hands, twisting them in opposite directions, which make him squirm with delight. She ticked his scrotum with the tips of her fingernails, making him shudder. Finally, she wrapped one entire hand around his shaft, the other around his balls, and stroked him firmly, quickly, and purposefully. She knew exactly when he would be seconds away from cumming.

Then the stopped, frozen, and looked at his face. His eyes popped open. "Why did you stop?" he screamed. "Make me cum! I need to cum!" Instead of resuming her stroke, Nancy clamped down on his balls with all her might. "Eee-yowww!" he screamed. He started to struggle, but it just put more pressure on his tortured balls, and eventually he stood as still as he could.

"What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch?" he said.

"You owe me twenty dollars for a hand job I gave you two months ago. Pay up!" she told him.

"You're crazy! I don't even know you," he moaned, gritting his teeth.

"Pay up! Or your balls will go home with me."

"It's in my pants pocket... on the floor... help yourself," he grunted.

Never letting go of his nut sack, Nancy reached for his trousers with her other hand. She extracted the wad of bills, peeled off a twenty, and replaced the rest. She stuffed the bill in her cleavage. Only then did she let go of his balls.

The fat man lunged for his pants and pulled them up even as he hopped toward the door. "You're crazy, that's what you are. Bitch!" he yelled over his shoulder as he rocketed out of the ladies' room. The door slammed shut behind him. Nobody else came in for quite awhile.

Nancy went home with a smaller wad than usual that night. Customers screaming in pain are not particularly good for business. But she still felt good. She had made a big mistake at the beginning of her career, and had promptly learned from it. Now, she had also corrected it. The accomplishment felt wonderful. She stopped for another pint of butter pecan on the way home to celebrate.

Sitting on her beat-up sofa in her tawdry apartment, she felt a great sense of accomplishment. She had come a long way from the scared girl in the laundromat, watching in horror as a drunken asshole beat off in front of her. Yes, she was doing all right. The bills were paid. The power was still on. The pantry was full. Life was good.

Now if she could only conquer this hollow feeling that she felt in her loins.

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Nancy will return in: Hand Job Slut 2: The Reckoning