Acquisition
His full name was Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs, but ya' doesn't have to call him Diggs (or Johnson for that matter, unless you are talking about his supreme possession). The few friends he had simply called him "Oz." He sat in his Lincoln and watched the cleavage parade on the north side of the Strip, transformed into a chiaroscuro by the raindrops on the tinted window of his MKZ. It was dirty work, but somebody had to do it. He was boundlessly grateful that he was the one chosen to bear this particular cross.
Most of the girls had dressed for the rain, meaning that many of them sported soaked white tee shirts over eye-popping Victoria's Secret bras. The bras appeared to optional, and the soaked cotton did little to hide the bra burners' anatomies. Their nipples seemed to point directly at Oz, telling him that he was the One. The whores' long hair, stringy and wet in the downpour, was erotic in a primal way, their mouths were so many Eves awaiting their serpents. He ought to have scales instead of skin, Oz mused, to increase the pleasure of sliding down their hungry open mouths and into their many other orifices, all of which would likewise greedily open to admit him once they had been properly prepared.
As the Lincoln made its third pass around the block, Sister Mary bent a little forward, giving the driver an optimal view of her essentially naked chest. This had to be the guy. She knew it by instinct and many years of literally hands-on experience.
The car slowed, and the driver rolled down the passenger-side window. Mary leaned through the window, dangling her massive wet breasts over the Lincoln's front seat. Beads of water dripped from her fully erect rosy nipples onto the fine leather seats of the luxury vehicle. This was especially unfortunate collateral damage, as Mary really liked leather, sometimes perhaps a little too much for her own good.
The driver's eyes were hidden behind mirror sunglasses, making it hard to read him. Her mouth whispered, "You lookin' for a date, mister?"
"A date? Where did you learn your whoring, girl? From basic cable TV?"
"Sorry, but that's the only word the rubes that trawl this street seem to understand. So how about a little company for a stimulating session of repartee, then?"
"Trawl? Repartee? You've got a sizable vocabulary for a street ho, little lady." Oz said. "Or should I say big lady, in view of those mammoth gazongas hanging through my window?
"Are you sure you're not a cop like all the rest of these whores and johns out here?" he asked, waving his hand at the Strip. "It's not safe out here for anyone else, what with the Magdalene Slayer out crucifying whores night after night. Way too dangerous for an educated flower such as yourself, even if you are bottom-feeder with a taste for danger."
"I'll prove to you I'm no cop," she whispered. "Just let me in your ride."
Oz unlocked the doors, and Mary stepped in and plopped down on the shotgun seat without any noticeable regard for the fine leather upholstery. Her dripping tanned legs and complexly-laced spike heels marked her as something apart from the typical crack hos that patrolled the Strip during this time of night.
Her left hand immediately went to his crotch and grabbed him right through his suit pants. She started to slide her hand up and down his rapidly hardening cock, tracing its length with her long fingernails. She definitely knew what she was doing.
"What's the damage going to be?" he asked her.
"Mostly to my pristine reputation," she laughed. "But basically $500 an hour, $150 for a handjob, $200 for a blowjob, and $400 to ball me."
"What would it cost to penetrate your ass with a baseball bat?"
"You can do anything you want to me, baby. But the rate for unrestricted access to my body is $3000 an hour plus medical expenses."
"And will you do anything to my body that I ask you to?"
"It's already covered in the $3000 hourly rate," she said.
"And if we bring in other people?"
"All covered in the three grand, unless I'm paying for them," she whispered. "Exactly how kinky are you planning to get, anyway?"
"I can get plenty kinky."
"So can I," she informed him, tracing the fingers of her right hand over his lips and running them down his chest to his crotch. Using both hands, she unzipped his fly and pulled him out.
Oz reached around her, wrapping his arms around her wet tee shirt, and took her drenched boobs in his hands, running his palms across her throbbing rose-colored nipples.
"Whataya say we start the clock?" she whispered.
"Right here on Sunset Boulevard?"
"Sure baby, nobody's going to see us through the tinted windows on your MKZ. But we can see them trying to. It'll be kinky as hell."
In answer, Oz rose slightly from his sitting position, and Mary teased him, her thumb and index finger forming a tight ring around his naked throbbing shaft, which she began to run up and down the considerable length of that organ.