Earth - Boatswain Abram Wallace - The Strip
From Create Your Own Story
After today’s training sessions, Chief Abram Wallace had drove his hovercraft slowly down "the strip", a four block long area in a rundown section of the city. It contained a collection of bars, tattoo parlors, adult theaters, peep shows, and video arcades. Bright, gaudy neon lights painted colorful dancing displays, inviting and enticing to the mainly pedestrian traffic. This area had once been a thriving commercial retail zone, but as the city had grown and expanded, businesses had moved out and many of the storefronts were boarded up. Here and there a "legitimate" enterprise still remained open. A tailor shop. An all night diner. A small jewelry store. But mainly "the strip" housed businesses that catered to the wants and vices of Spacemen.
When he desired female companionship, he would stop into one of the clip-joints and chat with any woman who might be working behind the bar. Usually they were former dancers or hookers (or both) who were no longer young enough to ply the trade. When it was sex rather than talk he was looking for, the streetwalkers were more than sufficient for him. When he saw one that interested him, he pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window.
“Looking for company?” the woman asked. The had a nervous, jittery look about her. Her eyes were constantly in motion as if she had trouble focusing her attention for more than a second or two. Or was afraid of something. Her hair looked unwashed and the short-shorts that showed her skinny legs and the halter top that left her flat mid-drift bare were thread-bare. She had no ass and practically no tits. A real skank.
“How much?” Chief Wallace asked and the woman quickly darted her eyes up and down the street. “Twenty for a blow. Fifty for a fuck. And a C-note if you want to put it in my ass.”
The Boatswain laughed and unlocked the door. “Make it ten for a blow and you can get in.”
She didn’t look happy about it but she didn’t hesitate to crawl inside, either. “Just pull around the corner there,” she pointy a bony finger down the block as she bent over Wallace’s lap, starting to unbuckle him.
He did as she wanted, killing the lights and engine and reclining the driver seat. With his pants open, the woman fished his cock out through the opening of his boxers. “The money first,” she told him, holding out one hand while stroking his dick with the other.
Chief Wallace took out his wallet, paid her, and leaned back to have his cock sucked. The hooker tossed her medium length hair out of the way and lowered her head, taking the tip of his semi-erect cock into mouth. She sucked on the head, her cheeks caving in, while her hand pumped on the shaft. Gradually Wallace got a full erection and the skank started bobbing her head. Her tightly stretched lips slid up and down the shaft, her fist following along, squeezing into the cock. The Boatswain just sat there, his hands down by his sides, as the street-walker worked to get him off.
The wet slurping sounds of her sucking his cock, combined with the squishy noises her fist was making as it pumped on the salvia coated shaft filled the insides of the hovercraft. Outside, music from various bars spilled onto the street, joined by an occasional burst of laughter from other whores who might stroll by the entrance to the alley or a loud shout from someone across the street. From time-to-time the woman would lift her head to take a deep breath and run the back of her hand across her nose. Then it was back to bobbing up and down. Sucking and stroking. Trying to make the man cum so that she could leave for her next trick. Or fix.
Chief Wallace wasn’t particularly horny tonight, and the whore had to really work at it. But she didn’t complain. She’d been around long enough to know the score and to recognize someone else who did as well. She reached inside the fly of his boxers to tickle his balls with the fingers of her other hand while her head and fist continued their mechanical movements.
Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes, the Boatswain felt himself ready to cum and clasped his hand on the back of her head. She didn’t struggle as he forced her head down-- her fist around the base of his cock would keep his dick from plunging down her throat and choking her. She just stayed there, her lips clamped tightly around his shaft as he pumped his sperm out into her mouth. Only once did she gag, but she remained still and did not try to pull away.
When he had finished dumping his load in her mouth, the Boatswain removed his hand and she sat up. Turning away from him, she opened the door on the passenger side and spat his load out onto the street. Pulling a crumpled, dirty hankerchief from her hip pocket, she wiped her mouth and asked, “OKay?”
Chief Wallace nodded and the whore stepped out of the car and walked down the alley and back onto the street.
