To say that my home life growing up was miserable would have been at best an accurate description, and at worst an understatement. My father was usually away – he was a long-distance truck driver – and my mother never stayed sober long enough to give me any kind of guidance. As a teenager I never had any money. I spent most of my time hanging around with low-life guys – and, eventually, screwing them, for want of any other affection and anything better to do.
Curiously, the idea of doing it for money came long after I had got a reputation as the school slut-Now I am at university, my slut ways continue.
I was sitting, on my own as usual as none of the other girls would associate with me, underneath one of the big oak trees surrounding the playing field, reading Hamlet. I liked Shakespeare. The words made me forget about the taunts I received on a daily basis. Anyway, I was very surprised to see this classmate of mine, John, walking over to me, quite purposefully. I braced myself for some smart-ass comment, but instead, he said:
“Ashley, do you have a second?”
I looked up from my book. “What?” I said suspiciously. John was one of the rich boys, and one of the worst for shouting ‘slut’ at me whenever I walked past him. I couldn’t imagine what he could possibly want to talk to me for.
He sat down beside me. “Ashley, I have a proposition for you.”
“What?”
“Well, you know I’m going out with Gina?”
Little Miss Prissy-pants. Like I cared. “Yeah.”
“The thing is, she won’t let me – you know – do anything to her.”
“And how’s that my problem?”
“Ashley,” he said, “you’re not a bad-looking girl, and you aren’t picky. I want to have sex with you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Gee, who says romance is dead?” I said with a straight face, then I turned back to my book. “Goodbye, John.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, and I heard paper rustling. He took something out of his pocket, and threw it carelessly on top of the page I was reading. It was money. £50, to be exact.
“There you go,” he said. “Fuck me, and you get to keep that.”
My first thought was that his offer turned my stomach. How dare he assume I was a common prostitute? “Money! You want me to fuck you for money? For fifty lousy pounds!”
“Look, I’m carrying £56. Would you do me for that?”
I didn’t want to listen. The problem was I couldn’t keep my greedy mind from listening. My weak self esteem reasoned that if I was doing what prostitutes did for free, anyway, maybe–just maybe I could consider the alternative. Let’s face it £56 was a lot of money for young woman in university. Much more than I was likely to see any time soon.
I took a sneaky peak at his package. It was having a wrestle with the crotch of his trousers at that moment. He looked at me, and I could see the excitement on his face. He wanted me now. Fuck it, I thought. Why not?
“All right,” I said. “When?”
“Can you meet me behind the bike shed in about ten minutes?” he asked furtively. I laughed. Behind the bike shed! How cliched. But still, a good place to go. There was a large gap between the shed and the wall, it was concealed by bushes, and no-one ever went near there at lunchtime.
“Fine,” I said.
He got up without a word and walked off, his erection still obvious. For a few minutes I just sat and stared at the money, thinking of all the clothes and things I would be able to buy with it. Then I snapped out of it, and realised that now I’d have to go and earn it.
Eight minutes later, I squeezed through the bushes to find him waiting there, looking apprehensive.
“So,” I said. “What do you want?”
“I – I wanna fuck?”
“How amorous, John, you’re just a natural poet, aren’t you?” I said flatly. “I’m dry, you’re gonna have to do something to lube me up, or I can guarantee you’ll lose your foreskin.”
John stepped closer to me and started to undo my shirt. When it was open he unhooked my bra clumsily and pulled it up over my breasts. Awkwardly, he took my nipples between his fingers and thumbs and rolled them around, pulling them erect.
“Easy boy. Don’t pull them off.” In spite of myself, I felt my pussy respond to the stimulation.
“Is this OK?” he asked.
“That’s better,” I said. God, his odor and general attitude always made my skin crawl. Why was I doing this? It couldn’t be just the money. But there was no turning back now. Thankfully, I recognized that my body’s desire for pleasure had taken over. If I could convince myself that it was the cock that counted, not the man, I could do this. I wriggled out of my panties so that they were around my ankles, and said, “You can fuck me now.”
Eagerly, he undid his zip and pulled out his cock. It wasn’t all that long, but it was nice and thick, and very hard. I thought about asking him to use a condom, but I was on the Pill anyway and it wasn’t like I was normally that vigilant. He was obviously a virgin, and anyway, I liked feeling their come squirt up me. That feeling of walking around for the rest of the day with it squelching between your lips. I often left it there and brought myself off later on using it as lubrication for my clitoris. As befitted a slut, I told myself.
John needed guiding. I took his cock in my hand and pulled him towards the entrance of my pussy. He pushed, and grunted as the tip of it slid inside me. Inch by inch he shoved his pink virgin shaft into my whore’s pussy. I couldn’t believe I called myself that! But in spite of myself, I sighed with pleasure. John began to thrust, staccato at first, he fell out a couple of times. But then as he established a rhythm, his cock moved more fluidly and deeply. Sweat was pouring down his face, and he was making so much noise I feared he might attract attention.
“Not so loud,” I muttered.
“Oh, God, you’re so fucking wet,” he growled, pushing my knees even further apart. His balls made a slapping noise against my buttocks as he slammed harder into me.
The truth was, I loved sex. That was all there was to it. My pussy felt beautifully stretched by his girth, and I began to enjoy myself, the way I always did when I was being fucked. Sure, I probably put out for all that psychological crap about the need to feel wanted and all, but deep down I just adored cock. I loved the way it felt inside to be stretched and spread, and, when it came to that little fantasy about the things that might be happening deep inside of my body, I couldn’t get enough.
Plus there was always the chance that I’d get to climax. I doubted he would last long enough for me to come, though.
I was right. He groaned loudly, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his cock as his come washed up into me. He stayed there for a moment until he went totally flaccid and flopped out of me on his own accord.
“That was worth paying for,” he said as he started to get dressed again. “Jees, you’re a good lay.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice,” I said ironically. But as I spoke, there was a rustling in the bushes and two of John’s friends, Ben and Jake, came striding through. Mortified, I slumped down and instinctively tried to cover myself with my arms. I hadn’t dreamed that anyone would be out here.
Or was it a fix? John certainly appeared to be unperturbed about being caught.
“Hey, way to go, Johnny,” said Ben, as I hurriedly pulled up my panties and tried in vain to organise my top half. “You lost your cherry at last.”
“I told you I would,” said John, zipping his fly with an exaggerated motion. They both laughed, and then turned their attention to me.
“Look at her,” said Jake, ogling me openly. “She loves it, doesn’t she? I bet you’d like to be fucked by us as well, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, if you want it, you’ll have to pay like he did,” I said. John blushed, and suddenly looked very ashamed. I smirked, as Ben and Jake burst out laughing again.
“You paid for that? What a sad case!” snorted Ben. John said nothing, but glared at me furiously. I smiled sweetly at him. Serves you right, asshole, I thought. That’ll teach you to invite your friends around here for a peep-show.
“Well?” I demanded, as my unsatisfied pussy stirred at the thought of having them both, here, at the same time, while John watched and possibly warmed up to a second go, if there was time. There was only half an hour of the break left. “Do you want me or not?”
Brazen now, I let my shirt fall away from my shoulders, and slipped my bra over my arms so that my breasts were exposed. I pulled down my skirt, and stood in front of them wearing only my knee-socks and shoes. They gawped in amazement, and I felt a quick surge of pride. My body was quite presentable really, even though I said it myself.
“Fuck, yeah,” said Jake, moving to come towards me. I put up a hand to stop him.
“£56 each,” I said. “The same as he paid. Or nothing.”
Jake took out his wallet without hesitation, and counted out 6 £10 notes. “You got change?”
It amazed me that these guys carried that much cash around with them. But then, they were so well-off, £56 was probably nothing to them.
Ben was less forthcoming. “I haven’t got £56.”
“Tough,” I said, although inside I was disappointed. I turned to Jake. “How do you want me?”
“In the ass,” he said without hesitation. Why did men always want to do this? OK, so it was tight and everything, and probably more exciting because it was taboo, but, damn it, pussy was made for the job. Nonetheless, I bent over, leaning my elbows on the ledge, and made my asshole nice and lubricated with John’s come, slipping my fingers deep inside until my ring was shiny with spunk. John was stroking himself through his trousers, hard again already. I was starting to like him more.
“OK, OK, I’ve got £43,” Ben said, dropping the money at my feet. “I’ll get you the other thirteen.”
I smiled triumphantly. Mall, here I come.
“Come and get it,” I said to Jake. He needed no further prompting. He was obviously more experienced than John, for his cock was in my ass with one thrust, making me cry out with surprise and pain. But as his cock moved in me and I became more dilated, I started to enjoy the sensation, especially when Ben knelt beside me and began to tickle my clit with his fingertip. This time I was going to come.
“The little slut’s enjoying this,” muttered Jake though clenched teeth, to no-one in particular. “God, you are a dirty little whore.”
“Do you want some fingers in you, Ashley?” Ben asked, teasing my clit ever so lightly, making me press myself against his hand.
I couldn’t help myself, I whimpered. This all felt so good, better than I had ever felt before. These guys were jerks, but boy, were they good at pleasuring a woman.
“Is that a yes?” he growled, rubbing me faster. “Answer me!”
“Yes!” I cried. “Please, please finger my pussy!”
As his fingers found his way into me, my whole body was rocked by a violent orgasm that seemed to go on for ever. As I moaned and gasped by way through it, I felt Jake withdraw from me, and Ben pull me down onto the ground.
“Sit astride my cock, bitch,” he commanded. Immediately I did as I was told, loving how much of a brazen hussy I’d become, loving these cocks and what they did for me. I squatted over him and began to ride him, up and down, my pussy sore from all the attention, but still hungry for more. God, he felt amazing as he thrust up into me in answer to my rhythm, grabbing my buttocks and pulling me down each time just a little too hard for comfort, so that I gasped and tried to pull away, but he was relentless. I’d heard he’d lost his long time girlfriend, and I think the frustration had gotten to him.
“Don’t try and make out you don’t want this,” he laughed. “I know you worship our cocks. Just take it like you do so well.”
I moaned deeply as the head of his cock battered my cervix, setting up a delightful matching throb in my clitoris. My finger found the hard bud and began to rub frantically. Jake, having had his fill it would seem, had disappeared back through the bushes. John was openly masturbating now, and as my second orgasm welled up he came over, stood astride Ben and pushed his cock into my mouth, which was wide open with pleasure anyway. Greedily I sucked and slurped on his length, taking all of him into my mouth and sliding him almost all the way out again, his precum oozing over my palate, and my moans increased as he and I came together, he firing jets of come into the back of my throat, I flooding Ben’s cock with my pussy-juice. Then Ben came too, turning my entire nether regions into an even stickier, gooier mass.
I stood up, my legs shaking, and fumbled for my clothes. The money was still there – I had wondered if one of them would try and steal it whilst I was preoccupied. But they had all seemed too wrapped up in what was going on. I looked at my watch. Two minutes until afternoon classes started. We all got dressed, and John said, “You’d better not tell anyone about this.”
“That depends,” I said, “on whether you’re willing to lick me out sometime.”
“Eww,” he said, screwing his nose up. I said nothing, just looked at him, and he sighed and said, “Oh, all right. When?”
“I’ll let you know,” I said.
Grumbling, he fished out yet more money from his pocket and shoved it at me. “Just make sure you keep your mouth shut.”
“Speaking of that, you owe me another £56 for that blow job.”
He flounced off without another word.
Ben looked at me, a wicked glint in his eye, and said, “How much to suck your tits?”
What did he want – a price list? Everyone knew he was unattached again; so, I figured ‘nothing ventured’ and all that. “Why don’t we discuss such things on a date?” I replied.
Ben looked startled. He looked me up and down, and then back up again. “Depends. Do you have any decent dresses?”
I smiled. “I think I can afford one or two.”
