Waking with a start the following morning, it took me a couple of minutes to gather my thoughts and recognise the bedroom. Images of Carole filtering into my mind, I leaped out of bed. This could easily be the beginning of a nightmare, I reflected. Or the resumption of the one I'd thought was over. What would I do if the monk arrived on my doorstep? He could hardly drag me out of my flat and into a car in broad daylight. But he might come for me in the dark of the night.
Filling the kettle, I tried not to think about it as I made myself a cup of coffee. I might have been wrong about the girl. It could have been anyone resembling Carole. Sitting at the kitchen table, wearing only a T-shit, I decided to take my mind of the nunnery by going on a shopping spree. I'd take a good look around the shops; get to know my new town. What I did need to do was check out the bars, the likely places to pick up customers.
After a shower, I had toast and marmalade for breakfast. I wondered whether to dye my hair black as I grabbed my bag and left the flat. But why should I try to disguise myself? Or move to another town, for that matter. I found myself repeatedly looking over my shoulder as I walked down the road. That was exactly the sort of thing I'd not wanted to do. Looking behind me, worrying, watching for cars driving slowly behind me... if it had been Carole at my door, then she'd be back and I'd have to deal with the situation. Until then, I was determined to enjoy my new life, my freedom.
Finally arriving home with several carrier bags, I dumped them on the kitchen table and sat down. I'd had a good time in town. I'd bought some decent clothes and had coffee in a small café. And not once seen anyone looking anything like Carole. I'd also made a mental note of a couple of bars which looked interesting, possible hunting grounds. I had pondered on the idea of placing cards in phone boxes but, apart from being tacky, I wanted to choose my clients. The bars were the best bet. I could chat to potential clients, get to know a little about them before allowing them to fuck my little pink pussy and spunk me.
I had a sleep after lunch, trying to get my strength up for an evening's work. Although I'd arranged to meet John in the bar at eight o'clock, I wanted to try the pub on the corner of my street. I'd passed it several times and thought how nice it had looked. I didn't want to work on my own doorstep, but decided to check the place out. Donning my new mini dress, I slipped my stilettos on and brushed my long blonde hair. My make-up impeccable, I checked myself in the dressing table mirror. I looked good. Sexy, stunning... far better than a habit and wimple. I was going to turn a few heads, I knew as I left the flat. And raise a few cocks.
There were half a dozen people in the pub. A couple of teenage lads at the bar with a girl, and three people sitting at a table. They took little or no notice of me as I ordered a drink from the middle-aged woman behind the bar. I'd have thought that the lads would have looked at my very short dress and nudged each other. There again, they had a girl with them and probably thought it best not to ogle me. Taking my drink to a table by the window, I sat down and relaxed. I wasn't going to find any customers there, but decided to stay for a while before moving on and starting work.
I happened to be gazing out of the window when I noticed a girl walk past. Staring at her, I was horrified. It was Carole; there was no doubt about it. We were miles away from the nunnery, and I couldn't understand what she was doing hovering around the area. Downing my drink, I left the pub and followed her at a safe distance. She might have been looking for me, I mused. Perhaps she lived in the town. No, that would be too much of a coincidence. I tailed her for about ten minutes, slipping behind some bushes in a driveway as she walked up the path to a house across the street. My heart sank as she rang the bell and waited. I felt as though everything was crumbling around me. My new life, my home... the door finally opened by a middle-aged woman, Carole went inside.
Intrigued, I crossed the road and crept up the path. I really had no idea what I was doing as I slipped around the side of the house. Although I was taking a risk, I had to find out what was going on, who lived there and what Carole was doing. The thought crossed my mind that the monk might live there. Perhaps he was running a brothel and... the kitchen window at the rear of the building was open. I could see Carole sitting at a table, the middle-aged woman opening the fridge and taking out some milk. Tentatively moving a little closer, I could hear their conversation.
"You're always late," the woman complained.
"Mother, I've told you. The train was late in."
"I don't know where you go to, what you get up to. Who's this girl you're looking for?"
"Just a friend."
"And you say that she lives in Chester Row?"
"Apparently."
"Have you been there?"
"Yes, but there was no answer. I called again just now but no one's in. I think I have the wrong address. Derek told me about her but..."
"Not that train guard? I don't know why you mix with the likes of him."
"Mother, I use the train every day. That's how I got to know him. I don't mix with him, as you put it."
"If your father was still alive..."
"Yes, yes I know."
"By the way, Jenny's been round looking for you. I don't know why you're so friendly with a girl of her age."
"I like her, she's all right."
"You spend hours in your room with her. God only knows..."
"I'm going to try Chester Row again."
Creeping away, I slipped out into the street and took cover behind some bushes as she left the house. The train guard had probably mentioned me in passing, and Carole had put two and two together. It was ironic, I mused, following the girl to my flat. Had I not got involved with the guard... if it hadn't been for him, I'd never have found such a nice flat. Watching Carole ringing my bell, I wondered what to do. Should I confront her? What would she say to me? What was her plan?
"Shit," I breathed as the landlord opened the door. Waving frantically at him from the bushes, I was lucky enough to catch his eye. Shaking my head negatively as the girl spoke to him, I prayed for him to understand. I should have given him a false name, I reflected as Carole talked to him. I should have dyed my hair. Glancing between the girl and me, he said something to her and then hovered in the doorway as she walked down the path. Was she coming back later? I wondered, watching her strutting down the street.
"Sorry about that," I said, running across the road and up the path.
"I gathered from your frenzied waving that you didn't want her to know where you were," he smiled.
"She's trouble. I know her from... well I'd rather she didn't know where I live. The guard on the train..."
"Derek?"
"He told her that I'm here, gave her this address."
"No worries. I'll give him a ring and tell him that you didn't like the place."
"Oh, that would be great," I sighed. "I'm trying to begin a new life and..."
"Mary, whatever you're doing, or have done, it has nothing to do with me."
"Thanks, Steve. I really appreciate all you've done to help me out."
"Any time. So, are you coming in or standing on the doorstep all night?"
"I'm going to the pub on the corner. I need to relax, have a few drinks."
"Right, well I'd better clear up and get home. This bloody decorating is taking longer than I'd thought. It's always the way. I thought the job would take a few hours, but it's taking days. I'll ring Derek now on my mobile, OK?"
"OK, and thanks again."
Walking back to the pub, I felt disheartened. To think that I'd not only chosen to live in the same town Carole, but a flat around the corner from her house... it was incredible. She obviously took the train when visiting the nunnery. Getting to know the guard, and probably seducing him, they'd have chatted during the journey. He must have mentioned a girl looking like a tramp. Long blonde hair, bare feet, dirty... she'd have realized that it was me. Then he'd have mention Steve, Chester row, my looking for a flat...
Ordering a large vodka I felt uneasy as I looked around the pub. Carole might be a regular, come breezing in at any minute and bump into me. It was best to keep my head low, I decided. But I didn't want to have to hide. Once she'd been told that I hadn't moved into the flat, hopefully, that would be the end of the matter. My biggest fear was being taken back to the nunnery, dragged into the dungeon. There was one way to ensure that didn't happen. Expose the monk and the Mother, have the place raided by the police, the girls released... there wouldn't be a great deal Carole could do to me without the monk. No monk, no Mother, no nunnery - no threat of the dungeon.
Watching a middle-aged man enter the pub, I turned my thoughts to making money. I had to pay the rent, get a phone... money was of paramount importance. He stood at the bar, looking about as if waiting for someone as the barmaid poured him a pint of lager. Wearing a suit, white shirt and tie, he wasn't unattractive. But did he have money? I needed a steady income, which meant having several regular customers. Pulling men in pubs was all right for the time being, until I got established, but long term...
As he looked at me, I smiled. Although I didn't want to take men back to my flat yet, I didn't see that I'd have any choice. The park wasn't the ideal place, and there was no privacy in the small pub to give him a quick wank, let alone a blowjob. Finally walking over to me, he asked whether he could join me. Did I look like a prostitute? I wondered as he gazed at the deep ravine of my cleavage revealed by my low-cut dress. Was he after a prostitute?
"Nice little pub," he smiled. "I usually call in on my way home from work."
"Yes, it is nice," I replied. "I've never been here before."
"Do you live locally? I've not seen you around."
"Not far. I shouldn't be in here really," I whispered mysteriously.
"Why's that?"
"They've had a go at us about going into pubs. My school, I mean."
"You're still at school?" he frowned. "How old are you?"
"Don't worry; old enough."
"God. Er... well, I'd better be going."
"Already?"
"I have to get home to the wife."
"That's a shame. I was going to invite you back to my place," I whispered unashamedly.
"You have your own place?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh, right. How do you pay the rent?"
"How do you think?"
"Er... if I'm reading between the lines correctly..."
"I think you're reading between the lines perfectly. Shall we go?"
Following me out of the pub, he explained that he'd walk several yards behind me in case he was seen. No doubt his wife wouldn't understand. I just hoped that Steve wasn't still mucking about clearing up his decorating things as I opened the front door. My client didn't want to be seen with me, I didn't want to be seen with him... running the business from my flat wasn't going to be as easy as I'd thought. Wondering whether there was a backdoor as I showed the man into the lounge, I tossed my bag onto the armchair and drew the curtains.
"Nice place," he remarked.
"Thanks," I smiled. "So, down to business. What would you like?"
"I'd like you to take my trousers down and lick my balls."
"Well, at least you're forthright," I giggled.
"It's a fetish of mine, a beautiful girl licking my balls."
"OK," I said, kneeling before him. "A blowjob is..."
"Not a blowjob. Just lick my balls. I'll wank and come over your face."
"Er... right. Thirty pounds, then."
Slipping his hand into his pocket he pulled out some notes and paid me. This was going to be an easy one, I knew as I unbuckled his belt and tugged his trousers down. His penis catapulting to attention, I ran my wet tongue over his scrotum as he began wanking his huge shaft. Wondering why he'd not wanted me to suck his knob and swallow his sperm, I sucked on his balls, lapping at the creases between his hairy sac and his thighs. He seemed to my enjoying my intimate slurping. Gasping, wanking his cock faster, he looked down at my lapping tongue and grinned.
"I want to come over your face and your blonde hair," he breathed.
"I can't wait," I whispered huskily, breathing in the heady scent of his scrotum.
Had he wanted to come up my arse and then suck his spunk out of my anus, I wouldn't have been surprised. Nothing could shock me after my time at the nunnery. I'd done just about everything possible, sexually. The house of sin was a pretty good start for any would-be prostitute. Spanking, bondage, anal speculums, lesbian sex... I'd experienced just about everything. Was Elizabeth enduring a double arse-fucking? I wondered, sucking on my client's scrotal sac. Was she enduring a double mouth-fucking? I'd have to make plans to save her.
The man's spunk showering my head, raining over my face as he rolled his foreskin back and forth over his purple knob, he shuddered in his ecstasy. Eyeing his orgasming plum as I sucked and licked his balls, I watched the long thin strands of spunk hanging from his slit, reaching down to my mouth as I nibbled the wrinkled skin of his scrotum. His orgasmic cream tasted heavenly, and I hoped some would run into my mouth, bathe my tongue as I licked his scrotum. There was nothing I liked more than salty sperm flooding my mouth.
My hair splattered with his orgasmic cream, the white liquid running in rivers down my face, I fervently lapped up the spilled spunk from his hairy balls. Savouring the aphrodisiacal taste of his spunk, I ran my wet tongue over his balls, not wasting one drop as he brought out his male seed. He had a huge cock, and I'd have loved to feel his girth deep inside my tight cunt, spunking my cervix. But he had paid me to live out his fantasy. Whether I wanted him to fuck me or not didn't matter. Perhaps, if he visited me again, I'd get to feel his purple knob battering my cervix, his creamy sperm flooding the hot sheath of my little pussy. If he wanked over my face once or twice a week, I'd be doing pretty well financially. Add to that half a dozen men fucking my cunt, my arse, my mouth... I was going to be in the money, there was no doubt about that.
"I must be going," he finally breathed, tugging his trousers up as I sat back on my heels. "Thanks, that was great."
"Any time," I said, climbing to my feet and licking my spermed lips.
"I might call again. Do you have a phone number?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. I've only just moved in so..."
"Is it all right to call round?"
"Yes, of course. If there's no answer, I'm either engaged or out."
"Right. Well, thanks again. I'll see myself out."
Another thirty pounds, I reflected as he left. This was easy money. Slipping out of my dress, I took a quick shower, washing the spunk out of my hair and cleansing my hairless cunt. It was still early, and I decided to go out hunting again. Drying my hair with the cheap dyer I'd bought, I slipped into my dress and applied my makeup. A couple of hand jobs, a couple of quick fucks... it wouldn't take me long to collect enough cash for the rent.
Leaving the flat, I wondered whether to go to the bar where I'd arranged to meet John. He might still be there, I thought as I walked along the street. He'd probably pay me for sex, but I needed more than one client. John might get in the way; spoil my chances of picking up customers. Heading for a pub I'd noticed while out shopping, I wandered into the bar and looked about. There was music playing, quite a few people leaning on the bar, sitting at tables... it was worth a try, I thought, making for the bar. Ordering my usual, a vodka and tonic, I hoped that someone would offer to pay for it. No one bothered, so I paid the barman and sat on a stool with my shapely thighs exposed.
Wearing no panties, I parted my thighs slightly, hoping that the two teenage boys sitting at the corner table would notice the hairless crack of my pussy. I wasn't particularly worried about getting the rent money, but I did realize that I couldn't afford to waste too much time. I was bound to have quiet days, perhaps only giving the odd hand job. Making sure that Steve got the rent money each week was a priority. No rent, no home, it was as simple as that. But I had time for some fun with the teenagers. Parting my thighs a little further as I noticed one of the boys gazing up my short dress, I pretended not to have noticed him.
"This is a nice place," I said to the barman.
"It's the best," he smiled. "We have live music Friday nights, if you're into that sort of thing."
"I love live bands," I smiled, all too aware of both boys ogling my wetting sex crack.
"Same again?"
"Mmm, please."
"We're trying to liven the pub up a bit," he said, pressing my glass to an optic. "It was turning into an old people's home."
"I don't live far," I said as he passed me my drink. "I might make this my local."
"Yes, do that. The more young people the better. That's on the house, by the way."
"Oh, thanks."
As he went to serve a customer, I watched the boys from the corner of my eye. They were nudging each other, whispering and laughing as they gawped at my feminine intimacy. I doubted that they could afford me, but I was enjoying turning them on, and parted my thighs wider. Unable to drag their eyes away from my open pussy crack, they moved their chairs for a better view. I imagined the pink wings of my inner lips protruding from my sex crack, my juices oozing, tricking. The boys were obviously loving it, their eyes bulging, their mouths hanging open as I opened my legs wider to give them a better view of my pink cunt. Never had I thought that I'd become a prostitute. But I was loving my new life. It was exciting, and it paid well. Better than working in some crummy office.
"Want to join us?" one of the boys asked, standing next to me at the bar.
"I'm fine here, thanks," I smiled.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, placing a five-pound note on the bar.
"Thank you. I'll have a vodka and tonic."
Ordering my drink, he moved closer to me, eyeing my cleavage and probably imagining slipping his solid cock between the hairless lips of my pussy. Feeling wicked I turned so I was sideways on to him and groped the crotch of his jeans. He said nothing as I pulled his zip down and discreetly hauled his erect penis out. No one could see what I was doing as I began wanking his solid shaft, rolling his fleshy foreskin back and forth over the swollen plum of his beautiful cock. I paused as the barman placed my drink on the counter, gently kneading the boy's knob. The minute the barman had gone, I resumed my illicit wanking, massaging the boy's knob as he stifled his gasps.
"No," he said, obviously nearing his climax as he leaned on the bar to steady his trembling body. "I can't come here."
"Yes, you can," I replied huskily. "Come in my hand. I'll lap your spunk up from my fingers."
Obviously turned on by my crude words, he closed his eyes as his cock swelled. I'd have like to have taken his purple glans into my mouth and sucked him to orgasm, swallow his spunk. Noticing his friend watching the lewd act, I wondered whether he'd like me to bring him off. No doubt he'd come up to the bar and stand next to me once I'd brought out the trembling boy's spunk. Wanking the solid cock faster, I grinned as sperm flowed over my hand. The boy hung his head, breathing deeply as he pumped out his spunk. Engulfing his knob in my hand as I massaged his throbbing bulb, I saved as much sperm as I could.
Shuddering his last shudder, he zipped his jeans and gazed at me as I licked the sperm from my hand. He obviously couldn't believe his luck. A teenage girl displaying her hairless pussy lips, wanking his off at the bar and then lapping up his spunk? Not the sort of thing that happened to him every day, I was sure. My hand cleansed, I thanked him for the drink and told him to return to his seat and send his friend over. I almost laughed out loud as I noticed the white cream down the front of his jeans. The floor was splattered with sperm, but no one seemed to have noticed my illicit act.
His friend joined me and pulled his penis out, grinning as I grasped his warm shaft in my hand and massaged his swollen glans. He was bigger than the other boy, his cock shaft broader, longer. I'd have love to have felt his massive organ deep inside my hugging cunt, felt his sperm bathing my cervix as he fucked me senseless. But I'd have to be content with wanking him. I'd probably see the lads again, meet them in the pub and perhaps allow then to fuck me. Perhaps there was an alley way behind the pub, somewhere I could take them both and have them fuck my arse and fill my bowels with the sperm.
"I want you to come over my leg," I murmured, pulling him closer. "You were looking at my little pink cunt, weren't you?"
"Yes," he breathed, his glazed eyes staring at me.
"You'd like to lick my wet cunt, wouldn't you?"
"God, yes."
"You'd like to push your tongue up my wet cunt and suck out of girl-juice. You never know, we might meet again."
"I'm going to come," he whispered shakily.
"If we meet again, I might let you push your cock up my arse. Would you like to do that? Would you like to fuck my arsehole?"
"Yes, yes..."
His sperm jetting from his bulbous knob, raining over the naked flesh of my leg, he leaned on the bar, trembling in his ecstasy. Glancing around the pub, I was sure that no one had noticed the wanking, the spunking. I'd found my domain, I thought as his sperm ran in rivers over my leg. Wanking a couple of teenage lads in the pub, I was enjoying myself as never before. The only problem I had was Carole. And she was a problem that I didn't know how to deal with.
The boy clutching my hand as his flow of spunk finally ceased, he fumbled with his zip, concealing his deflating cock as he shuddered and breathed heavily. He leaned on the bar, watching me scoop up the white liquid from my thigh and lick my fingers clean as he recovered from his orgasm. He must have thought me a tart, I reflected, deliberately allowing his sperm to dribble down my chin. I was a tart, and I wasn't ashamed of it. I loved sex, bringing the spunk out of throbbing knobs, having my cunt licked, my arse fucked... I was a tart. "That was great," he murmured. "I'd like to see you again."
"See my little pussy crack again?" I giggled.
"Yes... no, I mean..."
"I might be in here again. If I am, I might allow you to fuck my cunt."
"God, you really are something."
"You'd better go and sit down before you fall down," I smiled, wiping the last of his sperm off my thigh and licking my sticky fingers.
As he joined his friend, I felt my clitoris swell, my juices of desire seeping between the hairless lips of my vagina. I was desperate for sex, crude sex with anyone. But I knew that I had to focus on my aim. I was supposed to be making money, not wanking men off for free. It was amazing to think that I could have sex with virtually anyone I wished. Cunny licking, cock wanking, arse-fucking... whatever I wanted, I could have - and get paid for it. The boys hadn't paid me, but I'd at least got a couple of free drinks from the encounters.
The door opening, I turned my head to see whether a prospective customer had come in. Horrified as I found myself staring at Carole, I held my hand to my mouth. She was with a young man, laughing and joking. Leaning on the bar with my back to her, my heart banging hard against my chest, I lowered my head. I had to get out of the place before she recognized me, but daren't turn to see where she was. Finally standing beside me at the bar with her back to me, she ordered a gin and tonic. I slipped away, praying that she'd not realized who I was as I fled the pub and hurried down the street.
The situation was ridiculous. Not only had I chosen to live in the same town as the bitch, but only a few streets away from her house. Coming up with an idea, I walked to her house. I'd had it in mind to speak to her mother which, on reflection, was crazy. What would I say? I could hardly tell her about the nunnery, the sexual abuse her daughter was involved in. The woman would never believe me.
Reaching her place, I crept up the drive and around the back of the house. It was a warm night. I was in luck. Not only were the windows open, but the backdoor. Slipping into the kitchen, I could hear a television in another room. With Carole's mother out of the way, I looked around the kitchen. Noticing several letters on a shelf, I checked the surname. Hargreaves. Carole Hargreaves, that was a start. Moving to the telephone on the wall, I made a mental note of the number. I had enough to be getting on with, and slipped out of the house before I was caught.
Walking down the road, I decided to worry Carole. She might back off if she thought that the nunnery was under investigation by the police. Noticing a phone box, I thought I might as well go for it. Dialling the number, I had a pretty good idea of my plan. If Carole believed that she was in trouble, she might keep away from the nunnery, and leave me alone. Her mother finally answering, I disguised my voice as best I could.
"May I speak to Carole Hargreaves?" I asked.
"She's out at the moment. This is her Mother. May I take a message?"
"This is Moorhampton police station, Mrs Hargreaves. I'm WPC Lynn Clyde. I'd like to speak to Carole in connection with alleged activities at a nunnery."
"Oh?"
"It's concerning her involvement in sexual abuse."
"Sexual abuse?" she gasped.
"I really do need to speak to her."
"I don't know anything about a nunnery. I can get her to ring you when she gets in."
"No, I won't be here. I'll call on her tomorrow."
"Can't you tell me any more?" she asked, obviously worried.
"I can only say that Carole Hargreaves has been under observation for some time. Her involvement in the nunnery with a monk and the Mother Superior... I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mrs Hargreaves."
Hanging up, I let out a giggle. That would put the fear of God up Carole, and her mother would bombard her with questions. I just wished that I could hear what was said when the girl arrived home, but daren't hang around at the back of the house. Carole would probably contact the monk and tell him about the police. Pleased with my efforts, I walked along the street wondering whether to go home or try to pull a client and earn some cash. I needed the money, but also needed sexual satisfaction. My clitoris painfully erect, my juices of lust streaming down my inner thighs, I had to find a man to fuck.
Reaching my flat, I froze. There was a man standing on the step, trying to peer through my lounge window. It was dark, and I couldn't see who it was. It might have been the train guard, I reflected. Perhaps he'd decided to try his luck and... from the size of the man it could have been the monk. Perhaps Carole had spoken to him and he'd come to take a look at the flat for himself. Walking away, I headed for the park and sat on a bench. I'd have to wait before going home, leave it for an hour or more.
Slipping my hand up my dress, I reclined on the bench and parted my thighs. Massaging the erect nodule of my yearning clitoris, I tossed my head back and closed my eyes. I was desperate to come. My clitoris pulsating, I imagined the teenage boys fucking me, pushing their beautiful cocks deep into my sex holes and double fucking my young body. Massaging my clitoris faster, I lifted my leg and reached beneath my thigh with my free hand. Thrusting three fingers deep into the drenched sheath of my cunt, I whimpered as my pleasure built.
My nipples aching for a hot mouth, my tongue licking my lips as I pictured a knob spunking down my throat, I reached a massive climax. Wailing in the night, my cries of sheer sexual bliss resounding around the deserted park, I finger-fucked my beautiful cunt and caressed my clitoris, sustaining my sexual euphoria. My orgasm peaking, I cried out again, gasping as waves of pure sexual ecstasy rolled through my shaking body.
"Finally done in my coming, I slipped my fingers out of my spasming cunny and lay quivering on the bench with my legs spread wide. A breeze cooling my girl-wet vulva, I drifted in my sexual delirium, sinking into a warm pool of satisfaction as my body calmed. Sleep engulfing me, I dreamed of men's purple knobs, sperm jetting from their slits, filling my mouth, my vagina, my arse. I dreamed my dreams, unaware of my surroundings, unaware of the moon beaming its silvery light on the hairless flesh of my little pink pussy.