casual sex - Sex Stories

casual sex

... of friends joining us? at the Ritz?" "Well what do you normally pay? I'm new at this." "Look, how about just a hand job? I'll give you twenty bucks." Twenty dollars for a hand job sounded considerably less glamorous but maybe that was a good thing. It would get the job done. "Fine." she answered and he pulled the car away from the curb. He did not drive to a hotel or even a motel, but instead parked behind a strip mall that was closed for the night. Behind the dry cleaner he pulled out his limp dick. She was amazed that he could hire a stranger, negotiate having this done and not have an erection. She laid her hand on his cock and made a kneading motion. Nothing happened. She wrapped her hand around and tugged a bit, pet the head with her thumb, and now she heard some slight moans but he remained flaccid. She kept at it. "Look." He interrupted. "You gotta be sexy. You gotta talk dirty and let me see a little skin, or at least open your mouth for me." For twenty bucks? She'd been to strip clubs with Charles. She loved watching the woman there "be sexy". They made a lot more than twenty bucks. Now she wanted this done. "I feel sexy. I feel like I'd love to have you fuck me." He seemed unimpressed so she added "in the ass." she said it in the same bland voice she used to fight with Charles. "Okay look, this is ridiculous. I'm sorry." He put his cock back in his pants and he zipped up his fly. I'll drive you back to the corner. And now, as surprising to her as to him, she began ...

... to cry, no to bawl. "Oh, honey, it's okay. I just, I require a lot. I've been doing this awhile sweetie. Most guys I'm sure will come before they even get parked, honey. Look, if you need the money I'll give you the twenty bucks." "I don't need the fucking money, I need you to fuck me. I need you to make the asshole not want me since I can't seem to leave him as long as he pretends I haven't whenever I try. I need to go home and throw a good amount of money in his face and I need to say 'Here. Enjoy it. I fucked a stranger for it.' And I can't even get twenty dollars for a hand job god dammit! And now I'm crying and confessing my deepest secrets to a fucking John, who can't even get a hard on, because I have no fucking friends anymore, because the asshole was so sure I was fucking all of them." He didn't take offense. He started driving, stopping when he reached an all night coffee shop. They sat and drank coffee and talked about television. He loved Survivor. She enjoyed VHI shows about rock star excess. He actually listened to her, and she told him every minute detail of Ozzy Osborne's life and career from Sabbath to his first solo albums to his becoming a reality show. She almost cried talking of Sharon's love for the Oz and of what a great father the dark lord really was. She talked for two hours straight. She'd heard of the hooker with a heart of gold and now, she though to herself, she'd met the John with the heart of gold. Of course, she imagined, he'd drop her off and ...