American Dream


I smiled. "Why don't you turn around?" I suggested.

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I chuckled. "You ever hear of a sixty-nine?"

Her frown disappeared, replaced by a little smile. "Oh . . . yeah, sure. I thought . . . I thought you meant something else."

Gabi didn't give me a chance to ask her to clarify as she got up on all fours and swung her lithe young body around me. I stared up at her heavenly ass, noting the obvious virginity of her sphincter. Her pubic hair was soft, and in the dim pale light streaming through my windows, I realized that her pubic hair – only barely trimmed but naturally sparse to begin with – was actually a light brown in color, rather than the jet-black tone of the hair on her head.

The girl had very pink labia, and as I said, her lips flared out like butterfly wings that overlapped her slightly puffy vulvae. Her clitoris was thick and round, about the size of a peanut. Gabi tensed as I touched her lips with my fingers, prying open her moist pink. Then she hissed with pleasure as I began licking up and down her slit. The natural, tangy flavor of her, the fresh smell of her young pussy mingled with soap, turned me on immensely. My dick hardened quickly in her grasp.

"Oh . . . ohhhh, god . . . that feels so good," she moaned. Her hand pumped up and down my dick. I felt strands of damp hair hanging down from her head, gracing my cock as she stroked it.

"Yes, it does," I agreed, kissing and licking and sucking her dewy lips. I couldn't remember tasting a pussy as fine and sweet as little Gabi's. I wanted to eat her all night.

She let out a little yelp as I slipped my tongue inside her tunnel, finding her spicy and hot. She seemed pretty tight for a prostitute. Maybe she was one of those with a 'no fuck' policy. A lot of girls were like that, wanting to minimize the risk of getting an STD.

Fine with me. I didn't mind not being inside her, especially with the way her soft lips were once again caressing the head of my dick, her tongue swirling around it. She kept masturbating me, whimpering with pleasure, her breath warm and moist on my cock. Her body vibrated, especially when my tongue finally found her clit. I lapped at it with firm passes of my tongue, making Gabi moan around my dick. The muffled sounds were erotic and encouraging.

I kept it up, sucking, licking, fingering her pussy. I eased one, then two fingers inside her, slowly sliding them in and out. She was, indeed, very tight, and I wondered about the unlikely possibility that she could be a virgin. A virgin streetwalker?

"Huhn! Huhn! Hhaahhhh . . . ."

Gabi bucked and writhed atop me as she climaxed. Her clit stiffened, then shrank, her tunnel tightened considerably around my fingers. I eased them out, then latched onto her trickling hole and sucking greedily. Her cum was uncommonly sweet. I licked deep inside her to get it all, and Gabi moaned in approval all the while, grinding her sopping snatch against my chin.

"Oh, Mary, Mother of God," she giggled, basking in her afterglow, cooing and sighing as I ran my hands up and down her muscular back. I kissed and licked her inner thighs, her flushed pussy. Gabi made no move to get off me.

"I'm glad you liked that," I said, gently licking her fur-lined vulvae.

"Oh, God, that was so good . . . so fucking good . . . mmmm . . . ." I let out a small gasp as her mouth descended upon me once again, sucking hard and yearningly. Her orgasm had refueled, inspired her, and she sucked me like an animal, all but desperate to make me cum.

I held out as long as I could, wanting to savor the sensation of her incomparable mouth gliding like a warm wet sheath along my cock. But when she eased my cock head into her throat, and bobbed up and down like that, my resolve vanished. I arched my back and cried out in ecstasy, ejaculating right down her throat. The rippling tightness of her esophagus was like a pussy as it drained my cock.

I panted into her pussy as I recovered. Gabi licked and tenderly sucked on my penis as it softened, making little girlish giggling noises and moans of satisfaction. Finally, she turned back around and curled up in my arms, her back to me. She took my hands, cupped one of them over her right breast, settled the other on her soft pubic mound. We both quickly fell asleep.


I have a strange internal clock that, for some reason, always gets me up at 6:58 in the morning. It doesn't matter how much I've had to drink, or what I've done the night before – such as, for instance, enjoying incredible oral sex with a teenaged prostitute – but I am always awake at two minutes before seven.

Gabi, I realized, was a hard sleeper. I tried to wake her, but she groaned and murmured in her sleep. I chuckled, let her be, then got up. I drank some milk from the fridge, popped a few vitamins. My usual breakfast. Then I headed into the bathroom, started the shower, brushed my teeth before getting in under the warm spray.

I didn't hear the door open, or the curtain being pulled back. I stiffened a little as I felt the cool air outside the shower. Then came a soft, feminine giggle.

I opened my eyes to see that Gabi had joined me. Jesus Christ, she looked even better in the morning than she had the night before. Without the shadows and darkness, I could see Gabi in all her glory; long, lean torso, very high-set breasts with dark pink nipples, practically no areolas. Her hair was a little longer than shoulder-length and naturally lustrous. For an Hispanic girl, she was very pale-skinned.

"Morning," she whispered, and gave me a little kiss as she grabbed the soap.

I smiled. "Good morning."

Gabi didn't say anything else. She had a cute little smile on her face, her lips curled just a little at the corners. Her eyes were so wide and round and dark, with a slight little slant to them. I wondered if she had some Asian heritage. The soft, almost straight pubic hair on her mound certainly suggested she did.

We soaped each other up, our hands leaving no body part untouched. Gabi sighed, leaning her back against my chest as I thoroughly washed her young genitals. My penis was hard as a rock by the time her hands had massaged soap into it.

We rinsed off, and I turned off the shower. Just as I was about to step out, however, Gabi eased down on her knees as if she had expected me to do so. I certainly did not stop the girl as she once more took my cock in her mouth and sucked hungrily. I held onto her damp head, loving the feel of it bobbing back and forth as she serviced me.

All too soon, I fed little Gabi her breakfast, which she gulped down with enthusiasm. She tenderly sucked every little drop out of me, then got up and gave me a little kiss.

Half an hour later, we left my little apartment. Gabi had a somewhat forlorn look on her face as I locked the door behind us. She looked up and down the street. I lived just a few blocks south of Central Avenue. There were students walking toward school, many of them giving us looks. Some, I was sure, recognized me as a member of the faculty. I wondered if they could tell what little Gabi was by her tiny shorts and snug-fitting sweatsuit top.

"Can I drop you off somewhere?" I asked.

"Um . . . no," she said, her eyes darting to mine for a moment before looking away. "I know my way around."

I nodded, took my hand out of my pocket. "Look, um . . . why don't you take this?"

Gabi looked down at the two twenties I offered her. She hesitated, then nodded, and took the money. "Thanks, Devon," she whispered, then gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. With no further hesitation, she started up the street. She didn't look back.

I thought about calling after her, to get her number, or at least suggest she come back. But that would have been awkward. Like every prostitute I had known, I figured I would never see Gabi again.


Beingan anthropologist, I naturally wondered about Gabi's life. What turned such a pretty young woman into a cheap prostitute? I did not get the impression she was a drug user. She had no track marks on her arms or thighs, and her behavior certainly did not suggest she had any of the usual cravings for crack or speed.

So why give head for money? Kids? Nah, that seemed unlikely. She had very narrow hips and no stretch marks, no scar from a C-section. So she had no mouths to feed other than her own.

My only conclusion was that Gabi came from a poor home, was probably a high-school dropout, and had no good job prospects other than working at one of the many fast-food joints in the area for six bucks an hour. Hmm . . . six dollars an hour versus forty dollars for a blow job . . . Gabi could do five guys in a night and make what she would in one week at Burger King. I didn't have to be a fiscal genius to understand why Gabi did what she did.

Being a Friday, I didn't have any of my classes to attend, just the two classes I taught. Looking out at my students as I lectured on social mores and patterns of behavior, I could almost see Gabi's face amongst them. Almost half my class was composed of Hispanics and Chicanos. Gabi would have fit right in . . . and at the same time, she would have been out of place.

I spent the afternoon doing some on-line research in the office I shared with four other graduate students. I was alone, the others -–years younger than I – having started their weekend early. I envied their youth.

Dr. Kandath, one of the tenured members of the department, came in to drop off a couple books I had requested from his collection. Kandath was Indian, with a noticeable accent and a very chauvinistic look on life. He held to Indian tradition, and his wife, wed to him by arrangement, was a docile creature who always wore the brightly-colored sarongs and bindis that were traditional to their people. Kandath had a hard time taking any of the female grad students seriously, but he liked me.

"Hey, Candy," I said to him, using the nickname that he allowed only a few to address him by. He gave me an expectant look.

"You, uh . . . you prepared a thesis on prostitution, didn't you?"

"Yes, I certainly did," he said in that lilting tone of his. "My second master's thesis, in fact. You have an interest in such things?"

I felt a little awkward. "Well . . . in a clinical way."

He suddenly grinned, showing uncommonly white teeth. They were a stark contrast to his dark skin. "The best way to study such phenomena is to experience it first-hand," he said.

I chuckled. "Where did you study?"

"Brooklyn," he said, sounding almost proud. "The whores there were very eager."

His casual bluntness did not surprise me, or shock me as it did many of the grads. I had gotten used to the way he spoke. No sugar-coating for Kandath.

I thought over my words, picking diplomatic ones. "What, um, what did you find as reasons for the girls doing what they did?"

Kandath shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning against the edge of my cubicle. "There were several," he said. "Drugs, desperation, a dominant male partner or pimp who forced them into it. Very few were whores because they enjoyed it. Why are you interested, Devon? Do you know a whore?"

I considered lying, but figured Kandath, of all people, would not think less of me for divulging the truth. "Yes," I said. "In fact, I do."

He smiled. "Is she eager?"

Strange question, I thought. "Actually, she was."

He winked. "Then keep her around," he said. "But do not try to get too close. You will scare her off."

I chuckled. "I doubt I'll see her again," I said.

"Oh? Why is that? Were you rough with her?"

I frowned, shaking my head. "Just . . . it's just a hunch."

Kandath mused quietly a moment. "In my country, whores are an accepted part of life. They do things a wife will not. I certainly would not want my wife performing oral sex on me. But such . . . delicious perversions are ingrained in the male. That is what whores are for. They are necessary."

I smiled wanly. Sometimes, Kandath's views bothered even me. "Well, I'm not sure if I agree with everything you just said, but thanks for your input."

Kandath grinned again. "My advice? Find your whore, take advantage of her. Enjoy her. If you do not, she will find another."

Kandath turned and left. I sat in my chair, thinking over Kandath's words.

He's wrong, I thought. Gabi isn't there for me to use her . . . not that she's ever coming back, of course . . . .


I didn't feel much like research after that, so I headed down to a popular diner across the street from the university, treated myself to a half-pound burger with cheese, grilled onions, and green chili. I went back for my car, drove to a music store and picked out a couple of CDs I had been wanting. It was a little after six when I got home.

I watched TV for a while, then had an inspiration for my thesis and got on the computer. Time flew, and before I knew it, the news was over and the Tonight Show was coming on. I sighed, leaning back in my desk chair, stretching. I cracked my neck, rolled my shoulders, switched off the monitor.

Enough work for one night, I thought. I retrieved a bottle of Southern Comfort from the cabinet under the kitchen sink, mixed it with some Diet Coke in a glass.

Knock, knock.

I looked toward the door, wondering who it could be. Ten-thirty, on a Friday night? Could it be her?

I set down my glass on the little coffee table, answered the door.

Gabi looked up at me, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She wore a frilly white half-top, one of those that just covered her breasts and left her shoulders bare, but included full sleeves that ended in bell-shaped cuffs. Denim cutoffs and the same dirty white sneakers completed her outfit.

My heart sank as I saw the bruise on her left cheek. "Gabi, what happened?"

She sniffled, rubbed her little red nose. "Can I stay with you again?" she asked, timid, afraid, desperate.

"Come on," I said, stepping back and opening the door for her. She picked up a well-worn denim bag and came inside. I closed the door, locked the deadbolt. I came around, gingerly touched her shoulders, looked into her beautiful dark eyes.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

She stared back, her jaw working a little, her lips twitching. "Can I have a beer?"

I sighed, and suddenly remembered Kandath's words: don't get too close, or you will scare her off. "Sure," I said, and let go of her shoulders. I headed to the fridge, grabbed one of the last two beers I had. When I turned back around, Gabi had plunked herself down on my little loveseat. She took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

"Rough night, huh?" I said as I set the beer down on the coffee table before her.

She shot me an intense glare, then immediately softened. "Yeah," she confirmed, her voice barely a whisper.

I sat down next to her, slipped my arm around her shoulders. She stiffened at first, then slowly leaned against me, her tight, tense body starting to relax. For many moments, we just sat like that. I could feel her trembling, then her sighs. She curled her arms around me and hugged me close, crying softly. I did not say anything, I just let her pour out her emotions.

She finally pulled back, sniffling again. "After I left this morning, I . . . I got something to eat, just hung out for a while. I, uh . . . got picked up, and, um, well, you know . . . ."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

Gabi leaned out, picked up her beer, took a long, deep drink, swallowing several times. Cold amber liquid trickled down her chin to her neck. She gave me a sheepish look as she wiped her face. "God, you probably think I'm a lush or something."

I massaged her back, smiling. "I think you need a friend," I said.

She smiled sweetly, and her eyes smoldered a little. "What I need is a shower. Wanna join me?"

Oh, how quick a man's libido takes control! Just like that, and suddenly, all I wanted was to see her naked and feel that wonderful mouth again. Gabi gave me a knowing smile and stood before me. her crotch was level with my face. Slowly, deliberately, she unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, then pushed them down. Her pussy was inches from my face, fragrant with her natural aroma and the smell of sweat. Her pink clit was stiff and swollen, jutting through the soft brunette hair that surrounded it.

"Come on," she whispered, and pulled me to my feet. Like an automaton, I followed the sexy little teen into the bathroom. She gave me sexy little smiles as she disrobed me. Once I was naked, she bent over and kissed the head of my cock. I was half-erect, and quickly responded to her warm, soft lips.

In the shower, Gabi took up the soap and rubbed it all over my body, from my chest to my feet, building up a good lather. Then she pressed herself to me, stiff nipples stabbing into my abdomen, one of her legs lifted and wrapped around my hip. Her steamy, wet pussy rubbed against the top of my erection.

She kissed me deeply, hungrily, moaning softly into my mouth. Her body moved up and down, smearing the soap from my body into her skin. She used me like a human washcloth. Once her breasts and belly were dripping with suds, she turned around and rubbed her back against me. She lifted up, slipping my cock between her legs, and reached down to press it against her young cunt. The feeling was exquisite. With the soapy water making her inner thighs slick, I was able to move back and forth, like I was fucking her. But the angle did not allow my cock to penetrate her.

Gabi rolled her body, her sighs becoming louder and more passionate. She pushed the head of my dick against her clit, bucked back against me. She made sexy little high-pitched noises, her body shaking. She gripped my thighs, lay her head back against my shoulder. I cupped her firm tits, pinched and rolled her nipples. Gabi cried out as she came. I felt the flood of her juices on my prick.

She stayed like that for a while, and I held her close, feeling strangely more intimate with her than I thought I should have. After a minute, she eased forward, then turned around and dropped to a squat. She grabbed my cock and started jerking on it, squeezing it tightly. Her pink tongue stretched out, flicking the tip of my oozing dick, lapping up pre-cum.

I braced my hands against the shower wall as Gabi masturbated me furiously, occasionally taking the head of my cock in her mouth. She winced when she did that, and I assumed the bruise on her pretty face was causing discomfort whenever she opened her mouth too wide. I told myself that if I ever found the asshole who hit her, I would give him ten times as many bruises.

"Oh, Gabi . . . Gabi!" I moaned, feeling my orgasm build.

"Come on, baby, cum on me! Do it on me!" she said in a heated voice, stroking, pulling, jacking me. She parted her lips, brushing them against the head of my dick . . . .

I groaned with release, thick spurts of semen gushing out, splashing on her lips and chin, streaking across her cheeks. Gabi smiled, giggled as my cum jetted onto her face. A couple of shots streaked across her nose and forehead, into her hair. Gabi sighed, then rubbed my oozing cock all around her mouth, licking up traces of semen here and there.

Her eyes glowed up at me as she kissed my cock with sperm-glazed lips. "I like you, Devon," she whispered.

I petted her wet hair. "I like you, too," I said.


Gabi seemed pretty comfortable with her nudity, and as she sat naked on the love seat, drinking her beer and smoking, I thought how casually sexy she was. No makeup, hair wet and sticking to her back, beads of water dripping down over her pert breasts . . . not even the bruise on her face could mar her simple beauty.

I sat down beside her, half-turned on the couch to face her. I didn't bother with clothes, either. "What happened, Gabi?"

She looked away from the TV, her eyes studying mine. She drew off her cigarette, ground it out, then sat up straight. She cradled the beer in her lap, resting to cool metal can against her pussy.

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