Crack Whore

She walks slowly out of the shadows to the sidewalk. It's just about time for the bars to close, so there will be a lot of horny men driving up and down the street soon. If she works everything right, she just might make enough tonight to hold her over for a few days.

Passing a closed shop, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window. At 22 she still has a nice body. Her face is still attractive, and her figure is... well, thin. Crack has a way of doing that to you. Maybe some of these diet freaks should look into it as a diet aid. Sometimes she worries how long she can live like this. Even though she still has her looks, she knows that will fade fast on the street. Hell, already she can notice lines that weren't there on her face before. She wonders what life would be like if she had never tried crack. Where would she be now? Maybe just out of college, with a good job, a home... She turns away from the window. Wondering what life might have been like is useless. She had tried crack, loved it, and got hooked almost overnight. And now she's here, following after her master, the little white rock.

A small dark car drives past and she can tell the guy driving is looking her over. Expressionless, she makes eye contact with him as he slowly drives past. He disappears around the corner, but she knows he'll be back. That's the way this game plays out.

In less than three minutes he pulls back around the corner. Stopping on the street near her he pops the passenger door open. Silently she gets in. She can tell that he's leering at her like a dog looks at a piece of meat. She speaks the first words. "Evening officer. Time for your donut break yet?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he shouts back. "I'm not a cop!" Staring right through him she replies "Prove it." When he hesitates she says "Pull your dick out so I can see it, or I'm out of here." as she reaches for the door handle. If he really turns out to be a cop she plans to bail out and run.

As he reaches down to fumble with his zipper, she tells him to start driving or someone might get suspicious of them. When he turns the corner he says "Here. Now do you think I'm a cop?" The car is too dark to see clearly, so she reaches over and feels the tip of his exposed dick. Pulling back, she lifts her sweatshirt to reveal her breast. "OK. Now touch this." This ritual was necessary, unless you didn't mind getting busted. And right now, that would be a real pain in the ass.

After the preliminaries are over and she feels a little safer, she asks "OK. What are you looking for?" Actually, she already pretty much knows the answer. Most of the guys coming down here are married and on the way home. They usually want what they can't get there: a blowjob. And that suits her just fine. Giving head is easy (the way she does it) and fast. Take the money, do the deed, get the fuck on with the next trick.

Some guys want to fuck, but not usually. There's more money in that, but more risk. Once, a trick had wanted to fuck in the back of his van. She named a high price because he wanted her to take off all of her clothes, a risky move. But there was no protection when he went crazy in the back of the van. A black eye, some broken ribs, fucked like an animal, and thrown out without her clothes... And the worst part was that he kept the cash which she had placed inside her shoe. Damn, he kept the shoes, her clothes, everything. A passing police car stopped, and she reported her abduction and rape. But they didn't seem interested, gave her a blanket out of the trunk and a ride back to where she came from. They knew the story too well.

But this guy tonight just wants the BJ. That's fine. Actually, she has a technique that saves her a lot of grief. She always carries a small jar of vaseline in her pocket. When she gets ready to do the deed she takes a little in the palm of her hand. With her head over the john's crotch, he can't see that she's just palming his cock and rubbing it with the vaseline. They never catch on, she doesn't have to stick a dick in her mouth, and everyone's happy. Sometimes she has to go through with the real thing if the guy wants to do it in another position, but usually her trick works good enough. Especially when the guy's drunk.

"OK. Pull down this street and park behind that tractor trailer that's back in the lot." She scans the area to make sure there are no surprises, like cops waiting or something. When he pulls into the spot she tells him to shut off the engine so it won't attract attention. He reaches over toward her, but she pulls back. "Gotta pay first." She's not in the mood to give away a freebie. He pulls out his wallet and takes out a $20.00 bill. She stuffs it in her shoe as he puts the wallet on the dash.

Now he reclines his seat, and she tugs at his jeans. "You'll have to pull these all the way down." Although he doesn't think it's necessary, he does as she asks. A stiff dick is the stupidest animal in the world. She pushes the jeans the rest of the way down, around his ankles. "Now just relax and enjoy." she says without any emotion in her voice. It was almost like reading a script.

Everything goes smoothly. She pulls up her sweatshirt a little and guides his hand to a breast. Guys usually cum faster if they have something to play with. She bends over him, taking care to rest her head against his stomach so he can't really see what's going on. The little dab of vaseline was doing its magic in her skilled hand. In fact, it was too good for him. Pulling back he grunts "Slow down. I want this to last!"

What the fuck does he expect? A $20.00 blowjob isn't like a commitment. Sorry buddy, but slow isn't where we're going. She continues at the same pace, reaching down to pull on his balls lightly. Another groan and she knows she's almost done. All of a sudden his hands are pushing down on the back of her head and he's groaning "Suck it good bitch!!!" In a moment her face is covered with cum and vaseline. Trying to pull away, she can't because his hands still force her down. Now she's really pissed.

When he finally relaxes she pulls away, looking for something to wipe the mess from her face. She settles for an old T-shirt lying on the seat between them. As she moves to the door he grabs her wrist tightly. "Where are you going? You're not done yet!"

The fuck I'm not done, she thinks. Breaking his hold on her wrist she pushes him back. She grabs his wallet off the dash and bolts from the car, stumbling and skinning her knee as she does. "So long asshole." She runs a short distance, crossing the railroad tracks and slipping behind an old factory building. She knows that by the time he gets his pants back up from being tangled around his ankles she'll be long gone.

She stops to check the wallet. Gold mine!!! $480.00 in cash, a credit card and a condom. She throws everything else in a dumpster and heads back to the crackhouse she just came from. This should take care of her for a while. And the credit card will get a workout first thing in the morning, before he gets a chance to report it lost or stolen. Not bad for a few minutes work...

NEVER TRUST A CRACK WHORE!!