Selena, Sister Streetwalker

Selena, Sister Streetwalker

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Two very different women find themselves in a world that's turned its back on them. But they both have one very particular talent that might help them survive on their own. With their various escapades with men bring them together or pull them apart?


Two very different women find themselves in a world that's turned its back on them. But they both have one very particular talent that might help them survive on their own. With their various escapades with men bring them together or pull them apart?

Chapter1 (v.1) - Heather

Author Chapter Note

Two very different women find that they have one very particular talent that might help them survive on their own in a world that's suddenly turned its back on both of them. With their escapades with men bring them together or pull them apart?<br /> If it's not already obvious, these are ADULT stories. For adults.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 21, 2012

Reads: 684

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 21, 2012



Heather had only woken up half an hour ago, being startled awake by the men working on the roof to find the morning half gone. She stood in her bathroom now, inspecting herself critically in the mirror. She spent a good deal of time on her appearance, but didn't consider it vanity: she was an artist and her body was the first work of art people usually saw.

Of course, nature had given her a fair amount of help in this department: even in her baggy nightshirt, her breasts stood out round and firm. Her hair was naturally yellow, but she highlighted it with even lighter blonde streaks until it was nearly white. Her skin was similarly pale—Heather avoided the sun when possible and always wore sunscreen, but she didn't really mind the couple of freckles that always showed up. Along with the full, coral lips that she would dab with some gloss later, and the slim-but-not-skinny figure, they completed the ethereal, angelic look she tried to cultivate.

Heather had never been a good actor, but she figured that she could always do some modeling if the painting thing didn't work out. It probably would, though. Things tended to work out for Heather.

She took off her pajama bottoms and underwear, and then saw an outline of a man across the closed blinds of the bathroom window. A funny smile came across her face. The men were working because her parents had a dinner party tonight, and their friends were the type to judge them for dirty gutters or a missing shingle on the ridiculous mansion they lived in. With her nightshirt covering all the essential bits, she rolled open the Venetian blinds on the second-story bathroom window.

The man out there happened to be looking in as she looked out—putting up screens on the windows for the summer. He was five years older than her at most, not yet thirty, and had deep brown skin—Latino, she would guess. She liked the way his hair was grown long and pushed back, not like most of the men who came to work on the house, but more stylish. She liked the way his biceps, the closest part of him to the window, bulged with even the light weight of the window screen. Most of all, she liked the embarrassed smile that crossed his attractive face as he saw her and glanced away.

Heather herself faked a shy smile, but didn't look away, and waited there until he returned the smile. Her heart beat fast for just a moment, but then she decided that yes, she was going to do this. Her pulse calmed. She was never nervous once she knew what she was doing, and this was the easy part. She gave a small wave and mouthed, “Hi.”

He nodded with an uncertain smile.

“I'm just going to shower,” she said then, but he wouldn't be able to hear even if he could speak English. She pointed to herself, then the shower stall.

He laughed again, nodded, and covered his own eyes. I won't look, he was signing. And he began putting the screen in place faster, presumably so he could leave her alone.

She stood motionless for a moment, so that his eyes would return to her. As she waited, she worked her face into the smile she had practiced so often in the mirror: the irresistibly innocent-yet-willing young girl look. When he glanced back, she offered him a shrug. Then, quite slowly, she raised a finger and bent it in toward her, an unmistakable invitation.

He shook his head like he didn't understand, but Heather could tell from his eyes that he did. Men couldn't hide their understanding or their desire, by and large, and he had a perfect amount of both. She turned away from the window, watching his eyes widen in the mirror as she pulled the long blue shirt up over her head. She let her hair fall in waves down her back and gave him a moment to take in her perfect round bottom for just a moment before she half-turned back and caught him in the corner of her eye.

He glanced back and forth, making sure there was no one else around, then stared at her. She spun to face him, cupping her breasts in her hands but letting him see the small, smooth slit of her pussy. The naked arousal in his eyes was delicious to her, and she ate it up. It created an unbearably strong urge between her own legs, making her squirm where she stood. She turned the movement to a step, and walked across the room to the window.

She lifted it and whispered, “Come in. Be quiet.”

He looked around wildly again, then yanked off the screen he had just put in place and clambered inside. She could smell the pollen from outside on him, and feel the warmth of sunlight coming from his navy jumpsuit. She pressed herself against him and started undoing the zipper of the suit, zipping down to his crotch and letting her fingers flit for just a moment over the hardness that she knew would be there. She pushed her hands around his middle, under the white t-shirt he wore and to his stomach, which was flat, hard and hot.

“Miss,” he stammered, in an accent of medium heaviness, “I cannot stay. We are almost finished--”

“Do it fast, then.” She said thickly, her own breathing beginning to reach the level of his panting. She took his hand and brought it down to her pussy.

He looked back over his shoulder, but his fingers were already playing with her. His thumb caressed her clitoris until she moaned and leaned in to him. His other hand promptly caught one of her breasts and began teasing the nipple until it was hard. With his thumb still making an even, rhythmic circle, he slid his middle finger into her. He curled it inward just as she had curled her finger toward him. She could feel the movement and it drove her wild. She moaned again, forgetting her own warning to be silent.

“Bed?” he asked in between gasps. She pointed to the front door of the bathroom, and he easily picked her up around the waist to carry her in. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his erection on her inner thigh. Certain parts inside her began twitching hungrily in anticipation. He gently set her down and kissed the breast he had not yet played with. His lips opened softly over the nipple, his tongue sliding down below it...his hand resumed exploring her inside, putting in one finger, two, three...her own hands restlessly examined his tight abs and buttocks, and then pulled through his hair.

She was writhing with arousal, but it wasn't going fast enough. The door to her room was locked, but there was another entrance to the bathroom, and if her sister caught her with a man again she might tell.

So Heather brought her lips to his ear, bit it lightly, then said, “Just fuck me.”

He sat up for a minute, as if hesitating, but his body did not stop grinding against hers. “Are you sure?” He looked down at himself, and she knew what he was asking, and she dismissed it with a hand wave.

“Put yourself inside me.” She hissed. “Right now.”

He rose over her in a push-up position, and, using a hand to guide him, penetrated her in one long, smooth stroke. He began pushing in and out, slow but hard, a surprised smile on his face. The gold cross around his chest swung back and forth as he fucked her.

She took a moment to catch her breath—she hadn't snuck a peek first, and hadn't realized how large he would be. Nothing she couldn't handle. She closed her eyes, savoring the incredible, perfect pain. She caught him with her lags again pushing up with each thrust so that it would go deeper. When she got used to the sensation, she pushed him to the side and rolled them both so that she was on top and riding him. His eyes were glued on her perfect, C-cup breasts, and she loved it. She grabbed the headboard so that they were directly over his head, and ordered him to suck on her tits. He happily obeyed.

In this position, his pelvis ground against her clit again, and she felt she was close to orgasm. He had to be too: his face looked as if he was about to cry or roar laughter. She tried to hold it back as long as she could, making little sounds in the back of her throat.

She always figured it was those sounds that did her in.

As they slammed into each other, so hard that the bed rocked, the back door of the bathroom slammed open. Nearly lost in her arousal, Heather glanced back, expecting to see her pissed sister Donna, covering her eyes and flipping her the middle finger.

It was Heather's father, and he wasn't shielding his eyes. She was staring at her with a fury she had never seen on anyone before. Then the maintenance man orgasmed loudly, lifting his body off the bed and raising her up with his cock. Heather couldn't help it. She climaxed too, and moaned, right in front of her dad.


Comments and feedback of any sort are greatly appreciated: I'm totally new to the site and would love suggestions/ new writing buddies.

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