by Ray Gordon
Three
I RANG THE DIY store the following morning and said that I had a family crisis and wouldn’t be going back to work. I thought it best not to tell my mother that I’d left the store because she’d start asking questions, and I could hardly tell her about my new job at John’s house. Prostitute: the word loomed in my mind as I hid the money I’d earned behind my wardrobe. Prostitute, slut, whore . . .
I went shopping and bought some new clothes for the slut. A microskirt, a few thongs, stockings, a suspender belt . . . I tried them on in my bedroom and I was amazed by the transformation. I looked like a right little tart. I’d never worn stockings before, but I quite liked the feel of them against my skin. The thong barely covered my pussy and I reckoned that I should have bought a larger one.
As the evening approached I felt confused. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’d given up my job so I had to visit John regularly. But what was I going to do about Barry? Should I go to John’s place and wank him off and then go round to Barry’s flat and have sex with him? No, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. This situation was ridiculous. John knew me as Ali the slut who wanked him for cash, he also knew me as my true self. Then there was Barry and Don and . . . This was quickly becoming a mess.
As I closed my bedroom door and went downstairs I knew that my visit to John’s bungalow was going to be easy. I was Ali the slut and no one else would be there to confuse things. My mother frowned at my short skirt and make-up as I left the house, but she didn’t say anything. Was she suspicious? I wondered. Had she guessed that her young daughter was a prostitute? As I walked along the street I felt like a whore – I certainly looked like one. Men stared at me and one shouted something from his car as he drove by.
‘You look stunning,’ John said as he opened his front door and invited me in. ‘You look like –’
‘A slut?’ I cut in, with a giggle.
‘Well, no, I didn’t mean . . .’
‘I am a slut, John. You know it, and I know it.’
‘Yes, well . . . Would you like a drink? Gin and tonic, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘I saw your sister last night.’
‘Oh? Where was that?’
‘After you left I went back to the pub. We had quite a chat.’
‘I’ll bet she slagged me off.’
‘No, not at all. She’s a lovely girl, Ali. Nothing like you, of course.’
‘Are you saying that I’m not lovely?’
‘You’re gorgeous, Ali. So, are you going to do a strip for me?’
‘John, the deal was that I should wank you off for fifty pounds.’
‘I know, but I’d like to take a look at your sweet pussy.’
‘It’ll cost you more.’
‘How much more? Hang on, last night you said that you weren’t a prostitute. To hear you talking now anyone would think –’
‘I’m not a prostitute,’ I interrupted him. ‘I’m a sexy teenage girl doing you a favour. And you’re paying me. One hundred, and you can have my body for half an hour.’
‘It’s a deal,’ he said eagerly.
I knew that I must have been mad as John stood in front of me, reached out and unbuttoned my blouse, but there was no denying that the money was excellent. Apart from the cash, I was really getting into the role of Ali the slut. It was exciting, profitable – and incredibly arousing. Perhaps I wasn’t mad after all, I mused as John lifted my bra clear of my firm breasts and encircled my erect nipples with his fingertip. Leading two separate lives was giving me the opportunity to discover my sexuality, my darker side, and yet was also allowing me the safety of playing myself, Ali the innocent.
As John leaned forward and sucked on each sensitive nipple in turn, I thought it was a shame that the other Ali existed. She was bound to appear at some stage and spoil my game. Had I dreamed up the fake existence of a twin sister I could have played both roles without having to worry about the real slut turning up at the pub. But I was safe enough at John’s place, safe enough earning money in return for sexual favours.
‘You have beautiful tits,’ he breathed, kneeling in front of me. ‘But it’s your teenage pussy I want to look at.’
‘Help yourself,’ I said as he tugged my short skirt down and gazed at my thong.
‘Have you shaved?’
‘No, I haven’t. You like shaved pussies, then?’
‘Yes, very much.’
Yanking my thong down, John stared wide-eyed at the swollen lips of my pussy rising either side of my deep sex crack. I wasn’t mad at all, I reflected, as he slipped his tongue into my wet valley. I needed money and a little excitement in my mundane life, and I was simply being resourceful. Looking down at his grey hair, I realised that his age didn’t bother me any more. He was older than my father, but that didn’t matter. As he murmured his crude words, my arousal soared and my juices flowed. Firm lips, tight little cunt, wet hole . . . If only Jackie could see me now, I thought happily as John’s tongue entered my snug and very moist vagina. But this was my secret life. She’d never know what I got up to in the guise of Ali the slut.
Moving behind me, John parted the rounded cheeks of my firm buttocks and licked my tight anal hole. No one had ever licked me there before. I was learning, discovering new pleasures, and I realised again what a prude I’d been. His tongue entered my hot rectum and teased my inner flesh as he simultaneously thrust two fingers deep into my dripping vagina. I felt dizzy with desire, with lust, and clung to his head as my legs trembled. Never had I known such amazing sensations as he pushed his tongue further into my fiery anus, and I knew that this was only the beginning of a rewarding relationship.
My body was alive with sex, my juices of lust were flowing, my clitoris was as hard as rock . . . I felt like a naughty little girl with her knickers down as John moved his fingers in and out of my drenched quim and tongued my anal hole. This was another world, I thought as my heart banged hard against my chest and my pussy milk flowed down my inner thighs. A world far removed from university, the DIY store, Ali the prude . . . This was a new and exciting world of sex and prostitution, and I was beginning to love it.
‘Twenty minutes left,’ John said, rising to his feet and slipping out of his trousers. Sitting on the sofa with his legs apart and his erect penis pointing to the ceiling, he grinned. ‘Suck it,’ he ordered me. ‘I want to fuck your pretty little mouth.’
Kneeling between his feet, I gazed at the shaft of his solid penis, his rolling balls and his purple knob. I’d never sucked a man before. Ali the prude would never have committed such a crude act. But now I was Ali the slut and I knew that I had no choice. Leaning forward, I tentatively licked the silky-smooth surface of John’s huge knob and tasted his salt. He gasped, his body twitching as I repeatedly ran my wet tongue over his bulging globe.
Clutching tufts of my long blonde hair, he rammed his knob deep into my mouth. I breathed heavily through my nose, my eyes wide as he rocked his hips and repeatedly drove his swollen cock-head to the back of my throat. Another first, I thought as he mumbled something again about fucking my beautiful mouth. I fondled his heaving balls, wondering whether he was going to pump his sperm down my throat or save it for my vagina. I’d never tasted sperm – the idea had always repulsed me – but now?
John once more muttered crude words as I gobbled on his thrusting penis. Suck it, mouth fuck, cum-slut, swallow it . . . His spunk jetted from his throbbing knob and filled my cheeks. I swallowed hard, gulping down his fresh cream as he gripped my head and pummelled the back of my throat with his swollen glans. My first taste of sperm, I mused as my mouth overflowed and the male fluid dribbled down my chin. Having sucked the last of his offering from his deflating knob, I finally slipped his cock out of my mouth as he released my head.
‘Amazing,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve always wanted to fuck your mouth, Ali. And now I’ve done it.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ I said, smiling at John as I stood before him. ‘Now that you�
�re happy, I’ll take the money and –’
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ he cut in, running his hand up and down his sperm-drenched penis. ‘I haven’t fucked your sweet little teenage cunt yet. Get down on all fours on the floor and I’ll give you the fucking of your young life.’
Taking up my position, I was amazed to think that John could manage another erection. I’d always believed old men to be near-impotent, but I was obviously wrong. His knob slipped between my splayed inner lips and his rigid shaft entered me. I gasped as he grabbed my hips and rammed his fleshy rod fully home. The taste of sperm lingered on my tongue as my young body rocked back and forth and I rested my head on the floor as John repeatedly battered my cervix with his bulbous knob. I could feel his swinging balls meeting the rise of my mons as he fucked me, his wet shaft massaging my erect clitoris, and I knew that I’d soon be writhing in the grip of my second orgasm of the evening.
Wondering how many orgasms I could achieve as the squelching sound of my vaginal juices resounded around the room, I recalled Jackie talking about her vibrator. I’d only masturbated on a few occasions, and I’d never been able to reach a climax. Thinking that I might buy a vibrator of my own, I imagined lying in my bed at night enjoying one orgasm after another. John uttered more crude words as I pictured myself beneath my quilt with the soft buzzing sound of the vibrator filling my ears and my clitoris pulsating in orgasm. Filthy whore, dirty little slut, cock-loving bitch . . .
His words heightened my arousal and I knew that I was plunging deeper into the pit of depravity. I was a filthy whore, a dirty little slut, and the notion excited me beyond belief. I was eighteen years old with a good body, and yet I’d always been such a prude. I’d never really given sex a great deal of thought. Some of the girls at the university had talked and giggled about blow jobs and spunk and orgasms, and I’d thought they were sluts. They were sluts, I concluded. And so was I.
John let out a moan of pleasure as his sperm gushed from his huge knob and flooded my rhythmically contracting vaginal canal. I could feel his cream overflowing and running down my inner thighs, and I wondered again what Jackie would think if she witnessed my crude act with an old man. But I’d make sure that no one would ever discover the shocking truth. As far as John was concerned, even Ali the prude would know nothing about her sister’s wanton whoredom.
My second orgasm erupted as John’s thrusting penis massaged the sensitive tip of my pulsating clitoris. I shook uncontrollably and let out a cry of pleasure. A cocktail of sperm and vaginal milk streamed down my inner thighs as I writhed on the floor and listened to John’s utterances about my tight little cunt. Schoolgir-lie cunt, wet cunt, hot little cunt . . . I’d always hated the crude word but now it sent my arousal rocketing and intensified my amazing orgasm.
‘You’ve got big cunt lips,’ John breathed as he slowed his thrusting rhythm. ‘Puffy, swollen . . . I want you to shave them, Ali.’
‘Maybe I will,’ I gasped as my orgasm receded.
‘You’re a damned good fuck, Ali. Worth every penny.’
‘Your time’s up,’ I said as he yanked his deflating penis out of my inflamed vagina.
‘But I haven’t fucked your tight little arsehole. I want to fuck your –’
‘You couldn’t manage a third time,’ I interrupted, giggling as I clambered to my feet and gazed at his limp penis. ‘Besides, I don’t want you up my bum.’
‘I’ll do your bum next time.’
‘No, you won’t. There are limits, John. I may be a slut, but I’m not a complete and utter whore.’
‘Yes, you are.’ He rose to his feet and laughed. ‘I’ll do your bum next time, I can promise you that. You’re my complete and utter whore.’
‘Don’t you go telling my sister about me,’ I said as I got dressed. ‘She knows that I’m a slut, but she doesn’t know I take money from dirty old men.’
‘Less of the old,’ John quipped, pulling his trousers on. ‘I like you, Ali. We get on really well together.’
‘You like my cunt, you mean?’
‘Yes, of course I do. But I also like you as a person.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Fully dressed, I sat on the sofa. ‘Go and get me a large gin and tonic,’ I ordered him. ‘I could do with a drink.’
‘I thought you were a vodka and tonic girl? Your sister drinks gin, doesn’t she?’
‘Er . . . yes, yes, I know. I fancy a change, that’s all.’
I was going to have to be more careful, I thought as he went out to the kitchen. Little slips like that could give the game away. The prude drinks gin, the slut drinks vodka, I reminded myself. It occurred to me that John wouldn’t worry even if he did discover the truth. All he wanted was a teenage girl to fuck, and I was sure that he didn’t care which sister opened her legs for him. As he returned and passed me my drink, I thought how happy he looked. His wife in a home somewhere, old age creeping up on him . . . It was nice to think that I could bring him some pleasure and excitement, even though I was charging him a small fortune.
‘I’ve spunked all over your sofa cushion,’ I said, really getting into the role of Ali the slut. Lifting my skirt and showing him my soaked thong, I giggled. ‘See? There’s spunk pouring out of my cunt.’
‘You are a dirty little slut,’ he replied, his face beaming. ‘A dirty little lovable slut.’
‘And you’re a lovable dirty old man,’ I replied as he passed me a wad of notes. ‘That’ll do nicely,’ I said, stuffing the money into my bag. ‘But you’re not going to fuck my bum-hole.’
‘Oh yes I am.’ John grinned at me as he popped open a can of beer. ‘I’ll bet you’ve got the tightest, hottest little arse in town. And I want my cock rammed deep into it.’
‘You are disgusting, John. Talking to an innocent young eighteen-year-old girl like that . . .’
‘I’m talking to you, not to your sister. I wonder whether she’ll be in the pub tonight? I might go along and see whether she’s there.’
‘She’s seeing friends this evening,’ I said, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to be going to Barry’s flat as Ali the innocent. ‘She’s not really the pub type.’
‘I have a quest in life,’ John announced.
‘Oh?’
‘My quest is to fuck your sister.’
‘You won’t get anywhere near her.’
‘Want to bet on it?’
‘All right, one hundred says you won’t even pull her knickers down, let alone fuck her.’
‘You’re on.’
I liked John, I mused as he sat in the armchair opposite me and sipped his beer. He was fun, good company, a good fuck . . . But he was also a damned sight older than my father. I could never have a long-lasting relationship with any of the men I’d recently met. I imagined introducing John as my boyfriend to my parents. Not a good idea, I thought, downing my drink. But this was only a game. Barry was fucking Ali the innocent, John was fucking Ali the slut . . . Nothing more than a game. No strings, no ties, no love . . . just a game of sex.
I asked John for another drink and decided against going round to Barry’s flat. I’d have to change my clothes, change into Ali the prude, and I really couldn’t be bothered. Besides, I was quite happy chatting with John and drinking his gin. He asked me whether I was into bondage as he passed me another gin and tonic. Ali the slut would be into anything, I mused. Into anything and everything, as long as she got paid for it. Anything and everything – apart from anal sex.
‘You’re a naughty old man,’ I said.
‘And you’re a dirty little girl. I feel that I know you so much better now. We’ve known each other for a while, but you’ve never let me get anywhere near you. What changed things?’
‘Money, John. Money talks.’
‘I might have guessed. Tell me, when you do your disappearing act for a few weeks now and then where do you go?’
‘Now that would be telling. Let’s talk about you, John. Where did you get all your money from?’
‘Now that w
ould be telling,’ he riposted, laughing. ‘Mind you, now that you’re calling round on a regular basis, I don’t think my savings will last very long.’
‘But I’m worth it, right?’
‘It’s not every man of my age who has a beautiful teenage girl calling round for hard sex. Yes, you’re worth it.’
I felt good chatting to John and drinking his gin, but I had to work out my future. I was tempted to leave university, especially as I didn’t want to become a nurse, but I knew that my parents would go mad. I couldn’t let them think that I was still working at the store because they were bound to find out that I’d left. My dad often called in there so I was going to have to say that I’d got another job. I didn’t want to lie to my parents, but I had no choice.
John offered me another drink, but I’d had too much already. I said that I was feeling dizzy and I could tell that my words were slurred, but he refilled my glass anyway. We chatted, joked and laughed and, quite apart from the money I’d earned, I felt that I was having a great evening. He poured me another drink, and another, until I was completely off my head. I had no idea what time it was as he knelt on the floor at my feet and pulled my thong off. He spread my legs, ran his tongue up and down my pussy slit and sucked on my clitoris. I quivered, closing my eyes as the room spun round and round and my juices flowed from my open sex hole.
‘You’d like me to fuck you again, wouldn’t you?’ he asked me.
‘I think I’d better go home,’ I muttered. ‘I feel totally pissed.’
‘And I feel totally hard,’ John said, thrusting two fingers deep into my contracting vagina. ‘Come on, Ali, you know you can’t resist a ruthless fuck.’
My mind reeled and I gasped as he massaged deep inside my wet vagina and licked my erect clitoris. He must have had amazing staying power, I thought as he parted my thighs wide and buried his face between my splayed pussy lips. I writhed on the sofa as my clitoris responded and my juices streamed from my bloated vaginal cavern. After he’d stretched my sex lips wide apart, he slipped his fingers out of my spasming sheath and teased the delicate tissue surrounding my anal sphincter. His fingertip entered my tight hole and I gasped as he drove it deep into my hot rectum.