She was only a hooker (backstory)

She was only a hooker (backstory) She was only a hooker (backstory)

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

We find out how the John of "she was only a hooker" was turned into a cold blooded killer.

Summary

We find out how the John of "she was only a hooker" was turned into a cold blooded killer.

Content

Submitted: November 23, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: November 23, 2012

A A A

A A A


Part I

He had no more reasons to live. He slunk down into the rusty brown couch and ran his trembling hands through his now disappearing hair. Looking around him, all he saw was the reminders of what made him even more depressed. Tonka trucks abandoned on the carpet, missing pictures from their frames. She actually left. She took the kids and the cat and she left. When he came home, he noticed the absent smell of a cooked meal. He noticed all the things he took for granted. She picked a great day to leave, he thought. While walking to his locker, after slugging through the camp at work he found a crisply folded pink slip that said his services were no longer needed. Now tomorrow there’d be no turkey, no stuffing, no kids to watch the football games with, and even though he hadn’t gotten any pussy in months, no chance of getting any of that either.

Looking around the empty house, “Fuck her” he said aloud. Who needs this shit anyway. He picked up the bottle of Jameson and washed away his sorrows with each sip he took. Who needs this shit? There was no one to talk to. All his “friends” were wrapped up in their own families. After all tomorrow was Thanksgiving. He got up from the comfy couch and went to the stereo. Searching for something to match his mood, he found a mix cd with his favorite rock songs. The Goo Goo Doll’s Iris was the first track that played.

“I just want you to know who I am” The line replayed in his head and he wondered to himself, “who the fuck am I any more” Wife gone, kids gone, job gone. Soon the house would be gone as well, and it would be him and his NAVIGATOR. He let the track replay a few times and sank back down into the chair with his Jameson in his hands and pulled out his dick. “I at least I still got you buddy”. He yanked and yanked, but got little satisfaction. After taking another swig, he spit in his hand and worked his hand just the head. Maybe that’s what he needed. Rub one out. Perhaps life will turn around. His hope of renewal lay in his dick. And his dick lay limp in his hands and then soon the room started to spin. Get it together. Too much time in the house wasn’t going to make matters better. He pulled the bottle to his lips and wiped away the trickle that escaped his mouth. Staggering into the lamp shade centered between the beat up comfy couch and the sofa, he tried to smarten himself up. Grabbing his jacket, tucking his dick back in its hidey hole, he gathered up his keys and walked out the door.

He should just go to the bar. Sitting in the house drinking his sorrows away would never make anything better. At least he had a chance of seeing some hot young thing prance around the bar long enough to get his dick hard so he could give it a good yank in the bathroom. The drive wasn’t long getting to the bar. Straight forward. Jameson in the cup holder. No sense wasting money on too many beers at the bar.

When he pulled into the parking lot, it was sparsely filled with cars, and the country twang could be heard coming from the door. He swung open the door and slowly strolled to the far end of the bar. Looking to both sides taking in the fill of the bar as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, making strong long walks even though he was halfway drunk off his rocker. Some dirty haired blond was off canoodling some old fool out of his money in the front two seat-er. He pulls the stool out and motions to the bar tender to bring him a Sam Adams. The bar tender comes back and slaps the ice cold bottle in front of him, and he nods his thanks. After placing a few dollar bills on the counter he turned on his stool to get a good view of the curvy dirty blond. Her plump fake boobs were practically spilling out her checkered red and white blouse with the buttons unbuttoned way too far down. His dick started to twitch. She rubbed her body up and down the old man, who was all smiles into the football game airing on the old tv hung in the corner of the bar. He knew her pussy must be wet off the idea of money. Bitches like her were like that. She turned his head to face her saline filled balloons.

He adjusted his dick. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he let his eyes linger from the Cowboys back to the dirty blond. Her cut of shorts were tight and half her ass cheeks were spilling out. He watched her slide her crotch up and down the old fools leg like he was some kind of mechanical dysfunctional bull ride. The old man reached one arm around her waste and let a few fingers linger in between her snatch line.

He couldn’t take anymore. Sliding off the bar stool, he made a beeline to the back of the bar. A few people were lining the halls making out. He slipped into the bathroom.

Standing in the urinal, pulled out his throbbing dick and started to yank. Looking in the mirror, he didn’t see himself. Just the dirty blond and imagined her snatch grinding on her like. He closed his eyes and continued to stroke his dick, ever so often pinching underneath his balls and feeling his dick throb under his thumb and forefingers.

He could feel breath behind his back and a wet palm reached from behind and rubbed the head while he was making front to base jerking motions on his dick. It started him, but he was in such a need to release that he didn’t care where the additional help came from. With his eyes closed he gave away to the feeling. It was so warm and wet. It was almost like the blond had snuck into the bathroom and offered her mouth to him. The mouth started to lick on his balls, sucking them and getting them exceptionally wet. He went back to stroking his wet dick, feeling weak in the knees. It was so pleasurable. He felt the pressure in his balls. The mouth stuck it’s toung under his balls in an effort to reach his asshole. That sent his dick into over load and it shot the hot cum all over the red haird boys face.

“What the fuck” The man let go of his dick and pushed the boy into the mirror, breaking it. He put his hand over his mouth and banged his head into the mirror. He was filled with rage that it wasn’t actually the dirty blond girl. That a fucking nasty faggot made him cum, did this make him gay? No! He bashed his head with each silent no in his mind. When he stopped he saw the blood all over the urinal. Broken pieces.

What the fuck did he just do? He wasn’t even sure if the guy was still alive. He turned to the door and tried to walk calmly out of the bathroom. He didn’t look at himself and tried not to look at anyone else as he walked out the bar.

Was he gay now? He was in his NAVIGATOR when the bartender came racing out after him. Screatching sounds of his tires were all he left behind. He had to get out of there. He knew he couldn’t go home. They’d find him there. This was certainly shapping up to be the worst day of his life. He drove and drove trying to shake the feeling out of his dick. But it was so hard. Thinking of the red haird boys toung and how he licked his asshole as he shot his hot cum out made his dick jump even more.

A hooker.

He saw her standing on the side of the road. This is exactly what he needed to make sure his dick and mind were functioning properly. Some real pussy.


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