"There he is." The haggard woman jumped at the pounding on the door. She limped across the first floor of the dirty hovel to scream up the stairs. "MARIN!" She called again with rising impatience as the knocking went on. Soon a young woman's dusty legs scampered downstairs, taking great care to ensure the poorly-fit tunic didn't fall from her milky shoulders.
"Your client is waiting," The woman scolded. "Now, get'n the bed and lose those bloomers. From the force of his fist, I reckon there are pent-up pipes in need of cleansing." Under a crown of curly, dirty blonde hair, Marin nodded and obeyed, her frail frame sliding atop the tattered covers of the corner bed. Indeed, her client's continued pounding was hard enough to rattle the flimsy wood door and the wattle that made the walls.
"Whatever y'need, mum." Marin smiled through smudged ruby lips before dribbling some spittle into her palm to clean her filthy face. She rolled her bloomers off the planked floor and laid cross-legged, angling her hips towards the door. She used another spit wad to stick her frizzled golden bangs to her forehead. "Anything you need, mum. I'm ready."
But Marin Gallahan actually hated her mother for as long as she could remember. She had gone so far as plotting to kill the hag. But her duty to family and, more importantly, her own survival compelled her compliance. Her wide sapphire eyes focused on the opening door as she sagged into the bed. Disappointment heart plummeted with disappointment as he hobbled through the door, an oily rodent topped with thinning grey hair. Marin hated balding men more than her mother--such insecure creatures consumed with their fading youth. They all fucked Marin so roughly as if they have something to prove.
He came in, rubbing himself between his stubby legs within one hand and easing his dirty brown trousers around his rotund bottom. Marin's hips ached just thinking about him.
"Right." His voice graveled as he hovered over the young woman. "Open 'em wide, sweety."
"Five silver." Marin's mother bellowed with authority from her seat at the wobbly wooden table. "Or else you keep yer cock in yer pants."
The lecherous toad turned around in horror. "A bit too proud for your own good, Jules. I'm already fronting your mortgage." He spat.
"This isn't some seasoned whore, sir." She reasoned. "My youngest daughter just passed her 20th birthday. She's never been with child, and you'll only be her tenth man. Sweet young Marin is still eligible for Sainthood! Premium price, sir."
Marin suppressed a smile when he pulled away, taking his sweaty stench with him. She stole a few sucks of precious clean air before he hoveled back.
"TERRA! GET'N HERE!" He barked before climbing back on the bed. His slick yet rough hands spread Marin's tender pink thighs. "That's right, lass. Keep that dress pulled up nice n' high."
Marin turned her head to the door as the pressure built between her legs. She winced and shivered at once. Why was his snake already so wet and slippery? Not that it mattered as it now burrowed inside her young wetness--inch by pulsing inch. Marin's eyes watered. The oniony funk of her John lay heavy in the air. She barely made out the timid figure that crept inside the room. The rags she wore couldn't hide the gentle curves of her hips, so Marin was confident the new guest was a female about her own age.
"Terra, pay the woman. Five silver." He grunted, letting his balls slap against Marin's puckered pink ass as he plunged deeper.
"AH! NGH! AH!" Marin squealed in her most passionate damsel voice, thrashing her head back and forth. For some unholy reason, this always brought her clients to a timely climax. Her discomfort from their 'girth' pleasured them so. Marin bucked her young hips at the aged cock inside her. Her pink folds dripped with enough natural dew to milk her client regardless of how unattractive he was--just another day's work.
Marin's heart seemed to stop when their eyes at last met. The girl she knew as Terra sat on a wobbling stool across from her mother. The girl's emerald eyes were a tranquil yet striking contrast from her grubby face. They pierced Marin's heart and tugged at the emotions she worked so hard to dull. Her lips formed an awkward smile--her form of gratitude for the waif for reminding her beauty still existed in this wretched life.
Terra returned the smile, then hastily tried to fix her hair and wipe the excess dirt from her face. Then she shifted with discomfort on the hardness between her thighs and crossed her legs, fidgeting with her burlap cloak while doing so. Whether or not accidental, Marin would never know. But as Terra settled back down, she exposed herself to Marin--and to the prostitute's shock, she saw the girl carried a boy's prod of her own!
