I had started the night out horny, so when I showered, I shaved my pussy clean, making sure to get all the way back and around the puckered hole of my ass. I wanted to be slick enough to lick. I had a few drinks and decided to go out looking for a good fuck. I put on white eye shadow, with black eye shadow in the creases of my lids, tons of black eyeliner, mascara, and brow pencil. To accent the sexed-starved eyes, I wore bright red lipstick, too bright, past the edges of my lips to make them look too-full and aroused, and with too much lip gloss to make them look slippery wet.
I teased my long, dark hair until it looked high, mighty, and hot; almost bed-tousled. I wore the black lacy shelf bra that just holds my breasts; makes my heavy, natural tits stand out and pout, under a tight, sheer, black silk blouse. The kind that's so tight, the buttons seem to strain from the holes, and the material gaps in between; so sheer, there's absolutely no doubt as to what undergarment I am wearing. See-through. I like it that way, because when my nipples get hard, everyone can see how fucking horny I am. I wore a red silk miniskirt, from the same type of flimsy material as my blouse, though not as sheer. If I wear no panties (which of course I don't), I can feel the fabric rub and tickle my ass as I walk. The hem of the skirt came to the tops of my thighs, making it so that if I walked briskly, people behind me could see my naked ass underneath, and maybe wonder if my pussy was as smooth as those soft cheeks. My red platform sandals with the 5 1/2" heels definitely drew attention to my long, tanned legs, as I tottered down the sidewalk on my tiptoes, jutting my tight, round ass out behind me.
It was dark night, about eleven o'clock, and I wanted to be seen. I walked down 72nd Street; not enough sidewalk traffic to be afraid of being bothered, but enough cars driving by that I could see that every man and woman passing was checking the whore as she walked the strip. I was swinging my ass to be sure the skirt flipped and showed my crack to passersby. I loved pretending to be a whore on Saturday nights. I often picked different streets, and sometimes drove to different nearby towns so I would always get the thrill of a new audience. Tonight, I wanted more than an audience. I did love showing my body off to complete strangers, but this time, I wanted more. I wanted to fuck one. Maybe more than one.
I saw a tall, strong looking guy approach, then pass. He was so hot looking that I turned to pursue him. I felt so hot, like such a nasty skank that I could do anything. When I got up close behind him, in line at Club La Putaine, I pressed myself against him. He turned to look at me, and smiled. He fell out of line, and motioned with his head to follow. I trotted after him, in my shoes so high I almost fell. When I caught him, he stood in front of me, rubbing the front of his pants.
"How much?"
I was shocked. I loved to pretend, but I never expected to actually be propositioned. I could be arrested for this. But here I was, my greatest fantasy come true. I was a whore on the street, with a John asking my price. I don't think my pussy could have been wetter if I had been standing under a waterfall. All I could think of was the huge cock I could see straining under this strange guy's zipper. He was enormous, and he wanted to stick that big tool into me!
"I don't have all fuckin' night, bitch, how fuckin' much?" He was pissed because I was taking too long to decide what to do, and I was afraid he and his glorious rod would get away before I could get up the nerve. His rotten treatment of me, the hooker, was making me wetter. Should I do it for free, and ruin the fantasy, or tell him how much, and live out my dream?
"A hundred," I said with as much false confidence as I could muster. Only, he rolled his eyes and started to walk away.