|Hymn Part 1
by Andra Jenny ©
I had been stopping in at the adult book store for several years now. Located between three cities in an unincorporated area, it was able to serve the needs of its patrons without the watchful eye of local government as the county only patrolled and served the rural population outside of the city limits. Whenever I was feeling tense or pressured, I would bath, oil and perfume myself, brush out my thick, full, long dark hair, put on my finest lingerie, accentuate myself with a provocative outfit, and take off to this little oasis of perversion for a few hours of titillation and fantasy.
In the front were the books, movies, and toys that I would linger over as I excited myself and fantasized about going into the back into one of the booths and pleasuring one of the strangers waiting there. The men were there at all hours of the day, lining up the dark corridors, giving each other orgasm, and then going up to the juice bar to refresh themselves and ogle the firm hard bodies that danced and jiggled for appreciative dollars.
Occasionally, I would screw up my courage and walk those dark halls past the rows of booth doors with their leather benches and Plexiglas televisions which displayed adult movies when fed dollar and ten-dollar bills. Aloofly, I would walk past the men waiting at those doors, tense and tingling with excitement, feeling their eyes appreciate and beckon me, too terrified to follow my desire and pick out one of the dark, lonely, stares to serve. They always seemed beneath me.
Today, I lingered in the lingerie shop which was part of the building, but walled off from the store. From time to time, it would have to be closed down because the modeling girls would try to pick up a few extra bucks for doing a bit more than modeling. When city complaints became vocal enough, somebody was sent from the county for the obligatory arrest and week-long shut down. The girls lazily watched me as I fingered and sized various interesting items and tried to guess which one I would have them put on. All their guesses were wrong. At twelve fifty-five, I went over to the other side.
The breath was deserting me. My stomach fluttered as I hoped beyond hope that today would be the day. I looked at dildos and toys appreciating the feel of the butt-plug in my ass. The legs of my shear black panties broadcast tingling electricity as they swished against the rough fabric of my corduroys. My crotch tensed under pre-orgasmic waves pulling my upper thighs together squeezing the skimpy fabric of my thong and pushing my ass back against the tight jeans. Anxiously I searched each face, just has I had two or three times a week for the past three weeks. The disappointment was always sickening. Still, I fantasized that he would return.
I had grown bolder with each visit. The quick cruise down the hall had turned into several slow laps as I grew closer and closer to that moment which I now lived to repeat. Finally, overcome with heat and needing release, I settled on masturbation and allowed myself to enter an empty booth. I did not lock the door. Three dollar bills provided me with my choice of graphic fuck scenes. Absent-mindedly, I chose one. From my bag (I always purchased some rush or head-cleaner when I visited the book store), I took the little bottle and inhaled its relaxing fumes. My hands caressed my crotch and I danced wishing that I was the girl in the movie. She was savoring the thick black cock of a lovely, well-built, muscled man. I parted my lips imagining how he would feel, taste. The door opened.
Continuing my dance, I turned to gaze at his crotch. Casually, he opened his fly and watched as I stimulated myself in a sensual, writhing and caressing display of wantonness. I suggestively opened the front of my ragged, threadbare, short blue jeans shorts, exposing the hot pink thong panties daring not to look him in the eye as I fingered my sex. He dropped his pants and I dropped slowly to my knees putting my hands submissively behind me. He pulled down his shorts and offered me his semi-hard, uncircumcised member. The tip was cold and damp as I kissed it. I opened my mouth, accepted him, and sincerely began to love him.
"Yes, that's it!" he groaned. He took my head and guided my loving appreciation. His full arousal delighted me.
"Suck my nipple," he commanded me as he pulled up his sweater.
Eagerly I rose, clinging to him, pressing my hot crotch to his, feeling his hands, taking me and fondling me. With the single-minded desire to please, I sucked and kissed his hairy breast, lightly biting and stimulating him, and trying to inflame his passions. Then he uttered the words that changed my life.
"You're daddy's good girl, aren't you?"
My heart stopped. My last defenses, my last pretense at dignity was gone. I melted and moaned. I was whatever he wanted. Gratefully I knelt and loved my daddy as deeply and as lovingly as I knew how. Up and down I slid my mouth so tightly wrapped around his cock pressing down, taking daddy into my throat listening to him talk dirty to me, degrading and berating me. I struggled to please him.
"Take off your shorts, I want to fuck you," he commanded.
Obediently, I turned and dropped the jeans shorts while he grabbed the skimpy panties and pulled them down. Leaning over, I put my face down to the warm, leather bench and took a small moment to breathe in the sweet, sensual fumes of rush. He parted my cheeks.
"You've got a plug in there!" he exclaimed in appreciative delight. Swiftly and deftly he plucked it out.
I gasped as I was taken. He fucked me and talked to me. The words came in jumbles as I continued to breath the rush.
"That's daddy's girl!"
"You want me to tie you up don't you."
Never in my life had anything felt so good. I nearly came as he pumped firmly in and out of my tender hole.
"I want to get you somewhere more private."
He slapped my ass. I indicated my pleasure, but to my eventual regret, I did not beg for more.
"Yes, I want to fuck you! I want to tie you up and fuck my little girl in the ass."
I waited breathlessly for another slap on the ass.
"Is that what you want?"
No, I cried mentally, I want to be spanked. Oh spank me Daddy. please spank me, I want to be good. I want to be your good girl! If only I had cried those words out loud in passion.
"You want that! Don't you!"
To all of this, I continually moaned and grunted my approval.
He pulled out. I faced him and embraced him kissing his nipple, nuzzling in his neck, stroking his cock with my hands.
"Are you from here?"
"No," I murmured.
"I wish there were some place we could go."
I attempted with all my heart to display my willingness. I was panting with lust, dying to please him.
"I'm going to finish."
He smiled when I got down on my knees and lovingly parted my lips and pushed out my tongue. In a business-like manner, he closed his eyes and masturbated for a few brief moments before relieving himself into my mouth. His load was hot and salty. I savored his thick, sticky semen as I sucked him clean.
He arose and I turned for more rush and replaced my plug, panties and shorts. I heard him dressing.
"Thank You." Then he was gone.
more dollars and with one more good rush, I began to please myself. The
door opened several times, but no one took his place. And now, I wanted
him. To look at him, to tell him all those things I should have told him.
To let him know, I should have followed him to some private place to be
tied, spanked, humiliated, fucked and forced to serve. I was hooked. I
looked for him and waited to no avail.
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