Sherrys New Job Ch 08

Ray watched as Sherry walked back from the curb, as the squad car sped away. For a minute he thought she was hurt, as she was almost limping, but as she approached he saw no cuts, no bruises, just an uncomfortable waddle in her step. Clearly the boys had used her pretty hard, but it didn't look like there was any permanent damage.

He shot a look at his watch. It was getting late, and he didn't want to push this too far. The last thing he needed was for the drugs to wear off before he got her home. "I think we're done for tonight", he said, and moved across the sidewalk to exclaim a few words of thanks with Tommy, slapping his shoulder as he turned back to Sherry, to propel her back down the sidewalk to the now-familiar parking lot where they had left their car in what seemed like the long distant past.

As they approached the small attendant's booth, Ray stopped. "Don't forget," he fixed Sherry with his gaze, "Tommy said you have to pay off the parking attendant on the way out." Sherry face mirrored her confusion. She pawed through her purse. "With what?" she thought. She had given all the money she had taken in to Tommy, just like she had been told. She didn't have her wallet with her. No money. No credit cards.

She looked imploringly at Ray. He laughed. "Don't ask me. You don't give me enough money to have any cash left lying around by the end of the week. You know that. You must have something you can give him." She looked down. She had nothing of value. Heck, she barely had clothes on.

That gave her an idea. She had something of value after all, something that men had been handing over money for all night. She walked to the door to the booth and swung it open. The boy inside – Sherry guessed he was just out of high school, probably not much over eighteen – had an unruly shock of blond hair and a wispy start at a goatee, which didn't conceal the smattering of zits that still marred his chin and cheeks. He looked up from his little TV, pushed his glasses up his nose, and swung his chair around, sticking his hand out. Sherry surprised him by not stuffing a wad of bills into his palm, instead grabbing it and using it to pull herself up into the tiny booth. She pushed his chair into the corner and leaned back against the counter.

"I haven't got any money for you," she pouted. "But I know I owe you, so we're going to have to come to some other kind of arrangement." By now, she had levered herself onto the edge of the counter, and had positioned her feet to either side of the kid's chair seat, knees raised, thighs apart. His eyes were locked on the dark lace triangle that covered her pussy. Her hand slid down, pulling the scant fabric of the skirt further up, hooking a finger to either side of the small swatch of lace. She smiled as his eyes bulged slightly as she tugged, watching the thin patch of fabric disappear between the lips, parting them invitingly. The fabric now covered nothing but her clit and the few curls of hair above.

"Don't you think we can work something out? After all, all night you just sit here, watching car after car pull in while all these guys get off. And what do you get for entertainment? This little TV!"

She slid off the counter, dropping her hand to his lap, rummaging amid the baggy folds of denim until she found his penis, growing hard under the material. She leaned down to him, ran her tongue over his lips, and then stood straighter, lifting her camisole so that she could pull his face between her breasts. She felt his tongue touch her hot flesh.

After hugging his face to her chest for a few minutes, she pushed back from him, tugging on his shirt to get him to his feet. Her other hand slid up from the hard shaft it had been holding until it found the baggy waistband of his jeans, the elastic of his boxers, and then plunged down, wrapping itself once again around the shaft. Pumping it up and down a few times, she realized he was already rock hard, a thin ooze of pre-cum at the head.

She pulled her hand from his pants, making a show of bringing her palm to her face, running her tongue through the clear ooze he had left on her palm, as she looked at him coyly under her down turned lids, like a high-school girlfriend, not a woman old enough to be his mother. She dropped her hands once again to his waist, this time unfastening his button and zipper, letting the jeans drop in a heap, and tugged his boxers until his cock sprung free.

With a giggle she stepped back, turned her back to him, and, with a quick glance over shoulder, leaned forward suddenly, dragging her panties down as she went. She flipped her skirt forward, rewarding him with a perfect full view of her trim ass. She stepped back toward him, grasping the counter and twisting with one hand, taking hold of the boy's penis with the other. With a few steps and a twist of her hips, she had arranged herself so she was leaning on the counter, legs spread, the still shocked attendant behind her, her hand holding his penis. She flexed her knees and pushed back from the counter, impaling herself fully on his erect cock in one hard thrust. "Ohhh!" She cried.

She only had to push herself back a few times to convince him to take up the motion himself, grasping hard onto her hips and slamming himself forward, first slowly, then with determination. "That's it baby. Yes baby. Oh do it do it! Harder! Fuck me! Yeah! Like that!" Sherry urged him on, until she began having a hard time getting her breath as the boy rammed her mercilessly. Now, she could hear him, through his gasps, almost chanting. "Oh yeah. Take it you fucking little whore. Take it all you old fucking piece of cunt. How does this feel? Like this? Feel good, you dirty little tramp..." He was almost punishing her with his thrusts, her cheek and breasts bouncing off the counter with his every motion.

Suddenly he pushed forward, hard, dragging back painfully on her hips. Sherry tried to pull away as the first wash of hot cum drenched her womb, but he hadn't quite stopped thrusting, and his next motion pulled him free, as another gush of milky white spunk splashed across her bare ass and over her skirt. The attendant twisted free from her, and took a deep breath, dropping back into his chair. Sherry still couldn't move, and she just clung to the counter until the kid pushed at her leg with his foot and growled, "Get the fuck out, whore."

Sherry stumbled from the booth, her crumpled panties in one hand, trying to tug the skirt back down with the other. Her hand came away sticky from the cum-sodden fabric, and she felt more jism spilling down her inner thighs. She mopped at it ineffectually with her panties and then her fingers, afraid to leave a mess on the seat of Ray's car.

Ray looked at Sherry, at the smeared makeup, disheveled hair, cum-covered fingers. "Let's get you home and into the shower." As they climbed into the car, Ray glanced back at the booth at the entrance. "After all this," thought Ray, "he better not try to charge us for parking!"