They called it slumming. That was what it was.
She could see the limousine coming from a mile away. The roads were flat in the slums, but the women had curves. That was about half of the reason rich, arrogant assholes made their way to the rough side of town. They wanted something to hold onto while they fucked. The girls uptown had delicate china bones and less fat on them than a top sirloin steak. Those girls couldn’t take it rough. They were too valuable to break and they didn’t know how.
The limo pulled up alongside her corner and she got in, ripped fishnets sliding against expensive leather apolstery.
The other reason why the rich came to the slums was pure superiority. They liked that they could own a girl like her for mere pocket change. She held out her hand and five hundred dollars was placed into it. For them, it was the interest accrued on their savings account that month. For her, it was rent for that month and the next and the next.
She counted her money before she looked at them, but when she did look, she wasn’t exactly displeased. They were the handsome rich, good-looking as they were wealthy. It meant that their personalities were shit, of course– no man ever had all three– but it made her job easier. No matter what the romance novels said, sex wasn’t about personality. Sex was about power, first and foremost, and then it was about physical attraction.
She’d done worse on a Monday night.
“Full service?” Her lips were thick, glossy red with cheap lipstick. They didn’t make lips like those uptown– not without collagen injections, anyway.
The dark one spoke first, his accent elegant and cultured. He had hair slicked back like a 1950’s ad man, sharp features, oil slick eyes. He and his friend sat across from her in the limo. They beckoned her to them with their index fingers, all come hither with their eyes. She crawled to them on her hands and knees to close the distance. They always loved it when she crawled.
The fair one had a rougher accent– a self made man? She’d never know, but she could tell that the silver spoon in his mouth wasn’t quite as large as the dark one’s. The fair man had a broader jaw and cornflower eyes. His hair was shorter, unstyled. There was a scar across his left eye that cut straight through his heavy brow. The dark man looked like an aristocrat. The fair man, a mercenary.
She undid their belts one by one, methodically. One buckle, then the other. One button, then the other. Their cocks emerged erect– a good sign. They wanted her, hard with longing. Hard cocks, she adored. There was nothing more unsatisfying than a limp cock in her mouth, especially since some of their owners couldn’t get it up at all– not even for a downtown girl.
The dark man was circumcised. The fair one was not. Apart from that, their cocks were practically twins. The same handsome, even color of flesh. The same luscious pink glans. She could hardly decide which to lick first. They stared down at her expectantly, as eager to see who she would choose as she was to begin.
It was the fair man’s, she decided as she slid his foreskin back and took the head into his mouth. Uncircumcised men had a natural beauty to their cock’s– and they were more sensitive. As she ran her tongue around the head, the fair man hissed and bucked his hips. Intensity. She loved that sound. It was what kept her on the streetcorners instead of in the factories. It was a pleasure to please.
The second man was far more reserved. She went at his cock with long, quick puppy-dog licks. Eager to please. Ecstatic.
She had a cock in each fist by the time she could truly study the two men. She wondered what their relationship was– why they had come together. It wasn’t unusual for men to come in groups. They loved to gangbang the cheap whores, all of them throwing in five dollars and getting a whole night’s worth of entertainment from it. But if they didn’t come in hordes, they almost always came alone. Were they best friends? Lovers? Not brothers– if you took away their designer suits, they would have looked like they were from two different worlds.
As she moved her mouth from one cock to the other, sucking back and forth, she watched their heads tip backward simultaneously, their eyes fall closed in the pleasure of it. That was odd too– usually, they liked to watch. She was all smudged eyeliner and cheap mascara, her breasts bouncing heavy in the low cut of her top. Her skirt rode up as she bent over them, and she could feel herself growing wet. Hot. Longing.
They smelled like mint and citrus, tasted like salt and musk. That was the best thing about the rich men– they were clean, more often than not. Sometimes, they would come in dirty, but that was just because they liked the look on a girl’s face when they forced her mouth down on it. These two were impeccable, though. Even their fingernails were clean as they dug them into the leather of their seats.
She plunged lower, taking one all the way down her throat then the other. They were close now, side by side and grunting softly. The dark man came first as she pumped his cock in her fist. His cum shot everywhere: her hand, the door, his own thigh and across the fair man’s pelvis. And then, just like that, the fair man came as well– right down her throat and into her stomach.
“Lick us clean,” the dark one commanded. He was breathless. They both were.
As she laid in her bed after, the darkness of her tiny, shitty apartment swallowing her whole, she slipped her fingers between her legs and thought of that moment. The way the two men held each other’s gaze as she slurped up every last bit of the dark one’s cum off of muscled skin and hairy thigh. Creamy. Delectable. Rich men had better tasting cum, the other girls always said. It was the first time she believed it. It had been sweet. Delicious.
She was slick as she touched herself, remembering the way that the dark one must have discovered that too. When she had straightened her skirt, she’d seen the money change hands. A roll of bills from the dark man’s fingers into the fair man’s pocket. The dark one had reached over then and stroked the fair man’s cock once, twice, squeezing out the last remnants of the fair man’s cum. And then, he had dipped his dark head low and licked it off, the final drop that she had missed.
If you liked that, then you’ll love Kayla Lords‘ Masturbation Monday! Like somebody probably once said, two is better than one! This is week 61 for the rest of the MM crowd and week #3 for me. TELL ME THAT I DID A GOOD JOB OKAY? Blow up that motherfucking comment section and validate my sense of self worth, you beautiful bastards.