The full story of me and Mr. Davis - Sex Stories

The full story of me and Mr. Davis

... killed my chances to be taken in. I tried to curb my desires to make a daddy “love” me, but it never worked. The situation always came up where I was caught sucking my “daddy’s” dick or doing more. Then, I would be banished from that family, and had to start over.

I am intelligent enough to know how to keep myself out of trouble. I rarely steal anything, I don’t overtly cause trouble (except for the “Daddy” figures I routinely seduced), and I rarely let anyone fuck me in the pussy. I know I can get pregnant, and I am not about to be like my birth mother. I learned to give great head when I was a middle schooler and have been taking dicks up the ass since I was an early teenager. Most men like anal sex just as much as fucking a pussy anyway.

I found that if I went into a convenience store or a small restaurant in non-busy times, and ask for temporary work, I sometimes could get a job. I am pretty good at banter, and bullshitting my way into a job, and I am a willing worker. Who wouldn’t be willing to work in an air-conditioned building, stocking shelves or washing dishes? That is such easy work, and I am always up for it. My problem has always been traveling to the job if I was staying in a half-way house 2 hours walking distance away. It is tough to keep a job when you must walk everywhere. One of my early purchases was to buy a bicycle from a resale store for just a few bucks. It opened my world for getting to work. But it was soon stolen by the lowlifes that I was ...

... surrounded by. I had to save up again for another bike, and I am guarding this one with my life. And it has made a huge difference to me. Now, when I ride up to a business and ask for work, they think I am just a free spirit, on my bike, making my way through life. Rather than a street bum, willing to work for a day but never show up again.

Chapter two – the bookstore

My employment luck changed when I went into a used/vintage bookstore to ask for work. I spoke to this middle-aged man, Mr. Davis, who I learned later owned the place. I lied and said I loved books and always wanted to work in a place like this. Mr. Davis was very soft spoken, and probably saw through my fake interest in books, but he took pity on me. He said that there was always something that needed to be done in his store. He let me work there a few hours a day as a trial.

I was ecstatic. Here I could work quietly, stay clean, and earn food money. Mr. Davis was a kind person. He showed me how to care for the antique books and package them when they were sold as mail orders. He had me clean the toilet, and his office and keep the place tidy. He knew I was a clean freak so those were great tasks for me.

He had me unpack shipments and put new stock on the shelves. I loved the methodical way that books were organized. It was like living in a world of order where my life had been a world of chaos. I eagerly came to work each day and had to be chased out at closing time. Mr. Davis only paid me for a few ...