The Dollar Dance

As I entered the City Hall building during a light rain mixed with a not so light wind, my hair, which may have passed for style, returned to its natural state of chaos.

Everything was terrible. Especially my dress that I let my soon to be mother-in-law pick out for me. It was backless, and I was very skinny and did not have the breasts to hold it up. It looked and felt as though it could slip off my shoulders at any moment. That might have saved the entire night.

Instead, wet leaves that someone had tracked in lined the hallway and the stairs up to the room we were married in. 

The building was so old. 

Something borrowed was the cigarette I smoked by the front doors while I contemplated making a run for it. 

It was all very much cliche that way. 

Runaway bride. 

Teenage parents rushed into a wedding before the bride was showing. 

Scott's mother, Tammy, was very demanding and ran the whole circus. It was very important to her. Probably more important than it was to us. 

I didn't have to do anything but fake a smile. 

"There's always divorce" I kept joking to my friends. 

Heather suggested I go to college and showed me how I could get more funds by being married. 

It was all a perfect picture of convenience. 

Scott was quiet back then. More laid back and agreeable to things. I like to remember him that way. Getting older is a terrible thing. I guess we are all someone else at eighteen. Still having a child's eyes and a vision filled with wonder. Still had a receding hairline too early in life. 

The reception offered nothing better. We held it in the basement, which used to be the garage for the fire department. Nothing was worse than garage doors behind the married couple's table. 

The pulled pork sandwiches were burnt, the music was awful, and the iced tea was, well, it was iced tea. 

I did not know the custom of "The Dollar Dance" until my mother-in-law announced it. Everyone would get to dance with me but would have to pin a dollar on my dress to do so. She had everything ready by the time the music started. She held the pins as the line of men and women formed around me. It was only an hour into the reception and the men had already taken their tuxedos off and were in regular clothes. 

I knew it was a fundraiser kind of thing. Something that would give us a few more dollars to start our life. Well, at least start our night. Still, it felt cheap to me. At first, it embarrassed me. The first man to step forward was an older gentleman by the name of Barefoot Bob. He was a fixture in the town scene. A son who came back from war and now made a name selling marijuana. Of course, he did not like shoes. At the most, he would wear a pair of flip-flops like the ones he had on. Bob pinned a dollar just above my right breast and grabbed the small of my back and my hand firmly. It was as though he had just bought me. He led and looked into my eyes for his few seconds of fame. He never once stepped on my dress. 

They spun me around to the arms of another man. Another dollar. Another dance. Then again, and again, they passed me around. Even the women declared ownership of my body and my time. I gave them everything. Including the mind I had then.

It was five years later, and I had been buying pills from Barefoot Bob. Nothing too terrible. Mostly Vicodin to get through my day. He had upgraded from marijuana because of supply and demand. I never liked pot. It wasn't self destructive enough for my taste. 

It gave me a sense of being invincible in the urges I had and the memories that were intertwined with them. Nothing hurt for a little while with them. I had energy, and I had a purpose in my life. I was Wonder Woman with kids and a husband. 

I was sitting on Bob's floor while we talked about the weather and politics. It was foreplay for the act of trading cash for pills. It made him happy, and I always had a little extra time to kill. He had not changed in the last few years, but he was a world away from what I remember him being before that. His hair was long and scraggly now and his clothes were pauper like. His mind was sharp as ever. Especially with the math applied to selling. 

"Fifty big ones, girly," he said as he held a small baggy out that contained my transaction. 

Instead of taking my prize, I crawled over to where he was sitting on the couch and stopped in front of him and placed my hands over his bare feet. 

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I don't have any money, Bob," I told him. "And if you front me, I don't know when I could pay you back.

I had money. 

"So, what do you want to do?" He asked me as if he didn't know what game I was playing. 

My hands were still on his feet and I leaned forward and kissed his knees one at a time. I could already see him getting hard and his shorts pitching a tent in front of me. 

I reached forward and pulled his shorts down as he raised his ass from the couch to allow me access. My hands pulled his shorts to his ankles, and he stepped out of them for me. I made sure my hair brushed against his legs as I took them off. Scott liked to be teased and judging by Barefoot Bob's moans, he enjoyed it too. 

Everyone once in a while, a girl gets to enjoy a first. A little twisted thought that we never knew was there springs forward and unravels into a physical action. I lowered myself to his feet and gently kissed the tops of each of them. I didn't get a response until I traced my tongue from his toes to his shins. 

"I can help you out this time," he informed me as I was still out of sight and losing myself at his ankles. 

I smiled to myself. We mixed the cheapness of my act of submission with the power I held over him. Of course, he wanted my body over the fifty dollars. 

I returned to my kneeling position and looked him in the eyes as I roughly spread his knees apart so I could easily get where I wanted. Turning my head to the side as I lowered it, I kissed his thigh as I got closer and closer to where he wanted my lips. His dick, already standing and aching for attention, only got my soft hand wrapped around it as I gently kissed his balls. He let out a loud moan as I put one in my mouth and then again as I switched to the other. My left hand was rubbing his inner thigh as my right slowly moved up and paused before going down even slower. I purposely made loud kissing sounds to his balls, letting him hear me enjoying myself as much as he was enjoying my face between his legs. 

"Damn, Melinda," he kept saying over and over. 

I love hearing my name and hearing a man lose his mind in pleasure. My pussy responded with a flood of excitement. 

This wasn't about me, though. 

I traced my tongue along the shaft and took in the taste as I let my saliva pool between the bottom of his cock and onto his balls. Not that I tasted much of anything over my spearmint gum I had recently discarded. My tongue recognized the texture of skin and instantly my brain registered it as something special. Sort of treat or at least dessert before a meal. 

 After teasing him for a while, I began long licks along the underside until it was also slick with spit. 

"Damn, Melinda," he said once again. 

I moved my hand up and down and made it a little tighter as I did. 

"Do you like that?" I asked. 

"Fuck yeah, baby," he answered as he tried to keep his eyes out of the back of his head. 

I kept eye contact with him as I traced my tongue around the tip and cupped his balls in my hand. I could feel them moving against my palm. Tightening with each touch of my tongue until I finally took him into my mouth and began sucking him off gently. 

My head bobbed up and down between his legs as my hand moved under him and squeezed a little at his ass. I drooled as much as possible in trying to make the act as messy. 

There's always a fine line between deep throating and gagging and I always seem to cross it. Bob's hips raise further as I made the terrible sound, and he pushed against the back of my throat to force another out. 

"Oh, Melinda," he groaned. "I'm going to cum, baby" 

Guys with experience will give a girl this warning. Girls with experience will already know. The trembling legs and the changing in the breathing pattern are a telltale sign. I didn't stop, but I slowed down. 

Bob raised his legs up a little and I flushed my face against his thighs as I massaged his cock against the inside of my cheeks. My tongue cupped under his dick and I gently applied suction to the sensitive head until he trembled with the seconds before the explosion. 

I sucked lovingly and tenderly. Not like I had a job to do for payment, but because it was what I wanted to do.

The aching in my knees and jaw. The mess on my face and the cock in my mouth as I took in those delightful moans. Sounds that excited me then as they excite me now, just thinking about them. 

"Oh, Melinda," he gasped "Fuck, baby"

His body contracted and convulsed. I didn't let up even as he pushed at my shoulders and tried to pull back. The rush was as intense for me as it was for him. I felt the heavy load squirt into my mouth and I was eager to not lose any of it and not let him off easily. I wanted to suck until he couldn't take any more. 

I buried my nose in pubic hair and it was itching terribly. It never fails when I'm giving head. I fought through it as I often do. My nose itches right now just thinking about it. My entire body remembers. 

My mouth filled too quickly with the thick orgasm and I had to let it run down and mix with my spit on his cock. I kept sucking and eventually got it all.

Bob completely collapsed against the back of the couch as I took him out of my mouth. I moved my soaked hand up and down a few times just to see him suffer and even kissed the tip of his cock that I knew would be extra sensitive. 

"We are going to have a lot of fun together," he promised. 

He never asked me for cash again.