Dan Webster - Forced into damnation

Shari reached behind her and undid the clasp of her lacy bra. She shrugged her shoulders and lit the wispy white garment slide down the length of her arms, freeing her breasts from the confinement of its tightly constricting cups. Then she dropped the bra to the floor and shook her shoulders, letting her breasts sway from side to side.

Although she was thin, Sheri's tits were big enough to fill the cups of her size thirty-six-C bra. She ran her hands over them lightly, feeling her silver-dollar-size pink nipples begin to pucker and harden. She held them in her fingers for a moment, turning them back and forth like the knobs of a radio. Then she drooped her hands to the waistband of her black pantyhose. Hooking her thumbs under the elastic she began tugging them downward slowly and deliberately.

The john was lying on the bed watching her undress. He hadn't said a word since picking her up in the street and had stripped in silence as soon as they got into the room. Sheri could see his cock hardening as he let his gaze travel up and down the length of her near-naked body. With one hand he was idly stroking himself.

After Sheri had lowered the pantyhose over her hips she stepped closer to the bed and stopped swaying her body sensuously. The john could see a few wisps of curling pubic hair poking out over the lowered waistband. He held his breath, waiting for her to pull it down all the way. He looked up at her face and saw that she was licking her lips.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

"Haven't seen enough," he responded. His voice was raspy and strident, as though he was trying to cover his nervousness.

Sheri could see that she was turning him on. She liked to turn men on. It was one of the few things about her life that gave her any satisfaction at all. Every time a man gave her money, it was proof that he wanted her. And having men want her was all that she had left.

She tugged the pantyhose down a little further, exposing her tangled bush of pubic hair. It was black, contrasting sharply with the platinum blonde wig that she wore. The john drew his breath in sharply at the sight of her naked crotch area. "I didn't think you were a natural blonde," he said.

Sheri just laughed.

"How about that birth mark on your chin?" he asked. "Is that natural?"

Sheri laughed again. "No," she giggled. "I put it in with pencil. It's star-shaped. Do you like it?"

But the john wasn't paying any attention to her words. He was staring at her lewdly displayed pussy and licking his lips. She suddenly remembered that time was money and stepped quickly out of the pantyhose, leaving them in a nylon puddle on the floor. She ran one of her hands obscenely up and down her exposed cuntal lips as she approached the bed.

"Now, what would you like?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Everything that my ten bucks buy me," he answered.

Sheri sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the rough woolen blanket scratching at the soft skin of her ass. Damn cheap hotel, she thought. With all the business I give them you'd think they could afford better blankets. I must rent this fuckin' room ten times a day.

She looked quickly around at the cubicle in which she spent so much of her time. The room was small, not much bigger than the sagging double bed which occupied most of the floor space. Next to the bed was a nightstand with an ashtray and an old lamp with yellowed shade. The ashtray was full of butts, some of them lipsticked.

Against the far wall was a club chair that looked like it was left over from before the flood. Its upholstery was threadbare in several places and the outline of a spring could be seen poking against the material of the cushion. The management of the Eighth Avenue Manhattan Hotel knew why its rooms were so popular. And they knew that their guests didn't rent them for sitting in.

The walls were cracked, and the paint was peeling. The ceiling was crisscrossed with a series of cracks and blisters that spelled out "shit" if you closed one eye and turned your head to the side. Shari ought to know. She spent enough time looking at it.

"Hey," the john said. "Quit dreamin' and give me my moneys worth, will you."

Sheri turned to look at him, an automatic hooker-smile coming to her lips as she did so. "Sorry, hon," she said. "Now what would you like?"

"Why don't you start with a blowjob," he said. Sheri flashed her fast, empty, hooker-smile again and bent over him. His cock was standing straight up from the tangled jungle of his matted, brown pubic hair. She could smell the aroma of the last cunt that he was in, mixed with the stale smell of his own sweat.

Probably been two weeks since his last bath, she thought.

Then, not allowing herself the luxury of further time wasted, she brought her lips lightly against the rubbery surface of his swollen purple cockhead. A glistening drop of dewy moisture oozed from the tightly drawn slit at the tip of his penis. Sheri snaked her tongue out and licked the pearly drop off with a quick flick of its warmly pink tip. She felt the john's hands groping for her tits and she turned her body to make it easier for him.

Whatever turned him on was all right with her. As long as she turned him fast. She had finished daydreaming, and now she was all business. The faster she could turn this trick, the faster she could get back onto the street for another. It was early and there was still time to make some real money if she stopped mooning around.

She opened her mouth, taking the throbbing purple bulb which capped his prick between her lips. She ran her tongue over it in a series of quick wet spiraling movements that made him gasp with pleasure. Then she lowered her head, taking the entire length of his quivering organ into the warmth of her oral cavity. She heard him moan softly and felt his fingers twisting her nipples frantically.

With one hand she cupped his balls and began massaging them slowly. With a little fancy finger work, she thought, maybe I can bring him off without even balling him. She felt her mouth filling with a mixture of her own warm saliva and his free-flowing lubricating fluid. She knew that it wouldn't be long before he popped his load down her throat. Another suck, another buck, she thought.

But suddenly the john arched his back, pressing his hips down into the spongy mattress as he pulled his prick from her dripping mouth. "In your cunt," he said. "I want to put it in your cunt."

Sheri shrugged mentally, disappointed by his sudden awakening, and stretched out on the bed beside him. "Top or bottom, lion?" she asked, her voice efficient and business-like.

"You get on top," he answered in a commanding fashion.

"Whatever you like, hon," she said. She rose to her hands and knees and straddled him, moving her cunt into position. She knew that she was dry and sore inside, but she hoped that his cock would be wet enough from the blowjob not to hurt too much when he entered her. One more trick and I can go get fixed, she thought. Then the rest of the day won't be so bad.

As she positioned herself over the john, she could feel her nipples grazing the hair of his chest. They were puckered to semi-erectness and raked at his muscular skin. She reached down between their bodies, feeling her soft round fits pressing against her arm as she took his stiff cock in her fingers. She guided its throbbing length toward the dry lips of her pussy, ready to lower herself onto him. Then, just as the quivering cockflesh made contact with her cunt, there was a noise in the hall. Sheri sprang from the bed, instinctively alert. She began scrambling for her clothes.

"Hey," stammered the john. "What the hell is going on?"

"Didn't you hear that noise?" she asked. "I think it's the cops. Get dressed. Hurry."