Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Her date gone, Sheila found herself surrounded by a horde of leering men, some with their penises out, masturbating openly. Perfect. She was in her element.

She leaned back and planted her feet on the armrests of the seat directly in front of her. The move displayed her strappy ball-busting platform heels, her long shapely legs in their net stockings, and everything in between. “Who’s next?” she asked to the crowd.

Her question provoked an immediate response from the man who had been jerking off two seats away. He slid into the seat next to her and reached for her crotch. But she grabbed his hand and held it. “No freebees,” she said sternly. “This will cost you.”

For the next hour and a half she took on, one at a time, everyone who had the inclination and the money to pay for her favors. She announced her fixed rates: 20 for a blowjob and 50 to get laid. Quickie hand jobs she gave for whatever she could get, usually 5 or 10 dollars.

At one point, someone shined a light full on her face, catching her with her mouth full of cock. She never missed a beat but continued sucking away. The light went out and she heard someone say, “Okay guys, let’s keep it down.” It was evidently the theater manager trying to restore some sense of order.

As he walked away, Sheila mimicked him in a little girl voice. “Keep it down guys. Jeez, here I’m doing all this work to keep you guys up.”

By this time, most of the audience had migrated to her side of the theater. If they had been in a boat, it would have capsized. Wasn’t anyone watching the movie, she wondered.

After a while, she realized she had run out of paying customers although she was still surrounded by a bunch of horny onlookers. She tried to think of some way to charge the voyeurs for her little show but was at a loss. It was time to leave. She had always liked it when guys came in her mouth and hadn’t swallowed so much cum since the time she had taken on her entire high school basketball team.

“Gotta go, boys.” She stood up, re-hooked her bra and pulled down her skirt, then pushed her way through her admirers, stopping now and then to permit groping hands a few gratuitous feels before walking back up the aisle.

There was a Ladies Room just off the lobby and she went in, a bit surprised that no one tried to follow her. She avoided looking in the mirror and headed straight for the lone stall.

The place looked clean enough. Probably the only one who used it was the woman in the cashier’s booth, bursa escort she thought. Even so, she decided not to sit but lifted the seat and hauled up her skirt. Then, straddling the bowl, she let go a steady stream of piss until the toilet was turned into a deep yellow pool.

She no longer had her panties. At one point in the action, she had felt them coming off but didn’t mind at the time. They were just getting in the way. But when she looked for them, they were gone and no one seemed to know where. Somebody got to take home a souvenir. Now, she wished she had them back. A few of the guys she had fucked hadn’t used condoms, and now their juices were seeping out of her pussy and running down her leg She could use a pair of panties about then to catch the drippings.

She took some tissues out of her purse and used her fingers to clean herself out as best she could. Should have brought a tampon, she muttered to herself.

She stood before the vanity mirror and surveyed her image critically. What a mess! She lifted her skirt and used some wet paper towels to clean of her thighs and pubic area. Then she re-settled her boobs inside her bra and buttoned up her blouse. She took a comb out of her purse and ran it through her tousled hair in a vain attempt to get it back to some degree of orderliness. Her lipstick was almost entirely worn off with repeated blowjobs, and she applied a new coat of scarlet to her lips and examined the result.

Not bad, she decided. A respectable looking slut.

Her purse was stuffed with bills, and she took them out and counted. With the 150 her date had given her and the meager earnings from earlier in the evening, she now counted nearly 500 dollars. Pretty good for a rainy night, she thought. Pretty fucking good!

It was raining hard when Sheila emerged from the theater. She paused under the shelter of the marquee trying to decide what to do.

“Need a taxi, honey?” The voice came from the cashier’s booth.

“Um…yeah, thanks,” she replied, looking toward the source of the voice. She watched as the woman punched a number into a phone and began talking. Looking closer, Sheila revised her first impressions of the cashier. She wasn’t so much frumpy as motherly with a nice smile and a kind face. Her ample breasts protruded out over the counter, held firmly in place by a major figure support bra showing beneath her shirt.

Sheila always noticed other women’s boobs, given her own deficiencies in that department, but decided she would prefer bursa escort bayan her A-cups to the other woman’s biggies.

“Cab will be here in a minute,” the woman called out.

Sheila moved closer to the cashier’s booth. “Sorry about the ruckus in there,” she said.

“Oh, that’s okay. According to Frank, my husband, you were giving the boys quite a show. I told him we should hire you, let you sit in the audience. Guys would be lining up for tickets.”

I guess you don’t get many “lady” customers.

“We get a few. Some guys bring their wives or girlfriends, gals curious about porno. They usually lasr about a half hour. Then we get an occasional guy in drag. But mostly it’s single guys, lonely for some fantasy sex. Kind of sad really.” She looked up at Sheila and smiled. “I guess you made a few of them happy.”

“That’s what I do, make men happy,” said Sheila. And women, too, she thought to herself.

The cab drove up, splashed to the curb. Sheila shouted thanks over her shoulder and made a dash for the taxi. In just the short distance, she found herself getting soaked, plopped gratefully into the rear seat.

“Where to?” the cab driver asked, turning towards her. A woman. She was thirtyish, with a round face and close-cropped blonde hair, no makeup, and very large, very blue eyes. Sheila gave her address and they sped off into the rain.

“What a night!” the cabbie said. “Most of the girls have gone home. Not a good night for business I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Then a guy took me to the movies. Changed my luck completely.”

“Madge told me you were quite a hit back there. Have all those horny guys to yourself. Not bad.”

“Not bad is right. Except some dickhead stole my panties.”

“No shit?” the driver said, half turning around, as if she expected Sheila to demonstrate her panty-less state. “How did that happen?”

“Oh, it was just one of those things. Got a little wild there for a while.”

“I’ll bet. Well, keep your legs closed. You don’t want to catch a cold down there.”

They drove along in silence, barely able to see through the rain. “I understand a new convention’s coming in this weekend. Maybe things will pick up for you,” said the woman cabbie.

“Oh yeah? Who’s coming.”

“I dunno. National Association of Twat Eaters or something.”

“Sounds like my kinda crowd,” Sheila said, and they both laughed.

In fact, it didn’t really matter who was holding the convention. They were all escort bursa pretty much the same to her. Guys from out of town, looking for a little forbidden sex, the kind they couldn’t get from their wives at home/

And it wasn’t always guys. She remembered how, about six months ago. She had been hired by a group of feminists to entertain them in their hotel suite. Seems the liberated gals had no problem treating her as their own live sex toy.

The cab moved through the night, away from the sleaze of the city’s red light district. Away from the strip bars where the dancers showed everything they had and, for a price, would let you touch it, fondle it, taste it, or more. Away from the adult book stores with their peep show booths littered with used condoms and tissues discarded by a horde of masturbators. Away from the no-name hotels that rented rooms by the hour. Away from the half-dressed whores in their miniskirts and spike heels roaming the shadows and offering prospective “dates” a quick trip to paradise.

The rain had abated, giving the streets a clean washed look, and the area surrounding Sheila’s high-rise apartment building offered a dramatic contrast to where she had just been. Respectable. There would be no hookers patrolling the street corners here. Here, the working girls operated by appointment only from lushly decorated apartments.

“Nice place,” the cabbie said.

Sheila counted out her fare, adding a generous 20 dollar tip. “For saving me from drowning,” she said to the grateful driver.

“Any time.” She took out a business card, wrote something on the back and held it out to Sheila. “I usually work nights, but you can reach me during the day at my home number on the back. Whenever you need a cab, call me. I can handle whatever you need.” She paused, then added, “The backseat there is as private as a hotel room. And cheaper, too.” She smiled.

Sheila reached for the card. Their hands touched and then held for a significant moment. “Tina’s Taxi Service. Discretion Assured”.

“Thanks, Tina.” Sheila looked into the woman’s incredibly blue eyes and recognized a familiar expression. Desire. Well well, she thought. She briefly considered inviting those blue eyes upstairs, but just as quickly rejected the idea. Not tonight. Maybe I’ll save this for later, she thought.

“Perhaps I’ll see you during the Twat Eaters convention.” she said with a smile as she turned and headed for her apartment. She knew the woman was still watching her and, without consciously thinking about it, gave an extra roll to her hips.

Right now what she needed was a hot shower, a cleansing douche, and a soft bed. Alone. She would sleep late. Tomorrow was another day. And another night.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32