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Honey
by Old Bill (address withheld)

***

When her father loses his job, a young girl has to seek 
employment, doing what she does best. (M+/f-teen, inc, 
prost)

***

"Honey," Daddy sighed as he pulled his long, slimy 
pecker out of my hot, little pussy and flopped down 
beside me, his big cock resting on his hairy belly, "I 
think you're gonna have to quit school and go get a 
job. I been laid off again."

"Oh Daddy," I said, rolling to him and hugging him, 
kissing his grizzled creek while he fingered my ass, 
"I'm so sorry. But who's going to hire me. I don't know 
how to do anything." I bent and licked his dripping 
cock and he spurted again, filling my mouth and nose as 
well as my hand. Daddy's thing was so big it was hard 
to grab it.

He chuckled and slapped my bare thigh and then squeezed 
my butt. "Robin, honey, you know how to do something 
better'n most anybody. You are a prime cocksucker, 
honey, really prime. And I ain't fucked nobody that was 
tighter or more fun than you is, abso-fucking-lootly 
nobody."

"You want me to be a whore?" I said, sitting up and 
letting his sticky cum slide off my chin and down on my 
jutting boobs. I licked in most of it and then scooped 
a gob off my tit and put it in my mouth. I loved the 
salty taste, but I still had a long string dangling 
from one nipple. I lifted my breasts and licked it 
clean.

"Course not. Shame on you for thinking such a thing. 
But there's lot a'jobs for girls as pretty as you. You 
seen them magazines, right? First thing, I'm gonna get 
you a driver's license, and you're gonna be sixteen 
years old. How you like that?" He stroked my left boob 
and pinched my little nipple while I tickled the 
underside of his cockhead.

"I think you have to be eighteen to make those movies 
or go-go dance, you know, in one of those places." I 
could see he was getting excited again so I kneaded his 
balls some since he loved that. Daddy's testicles are 
big as walnuts and just as hard. I saw the hungry look 
in his eyes and knew I was going to get it again, get 
what I needed, what I wanted.

"But not to wait tables, no sir, not if you don't 
handle no alcohol. You could do that. And you can 
dance. I seen you dance, and you can sure strip. 
Yessir. `Member what you did for my friends when we was 
playin' cards?" He laughed and rolled on top of me and 
slid his big, hard prick back up into my sore cunt, all 
the way in. "And you sure can fuck." And he was off 
again, humping like a madman, squishing it out with his 
fat piston. He can always come twice and sometimes gets 
it up again unless he's been drinking.

So Monday morning, still sore from all the pounding my 
daddy had done on me that weekend when he wouldn't let 
me go out with any of my friends, I dressed for play 
and instead of going to my 8th grade classes at the 
middle school and fooling around with pimple-faced boys 
and that big, black guy down in the furnace room, I was 
out looking for work, feeling very grown-up. 

I wore my clean peasant blouse which barely hung on my 
shoulders and gave everybody a good look at my jugs if 
I forgot to tie the strings and leaned forward a little 
and a short, pleated skirt that reached about mid thigh 
and was split to the waist on one side and some high-
heeled platform slides that made me several inches 
taller than my five-foot-six. I knew I looked good, hot 
to trot. I didn't own a bra that fit anymore, but I 
wore panties of course, real tiny ones.

Daddy had looked me over as he sat drinking a bottle of 
beer, his usual breakfast, and pronounced me good 
enough to eat. I ran out before he started gnawing on 
me since I knew that look and he was licking his chops. 
When he gets his hands on my ass and his mouth on my 
pussy, it takes a while for him to get what he wants 
and, of course, I do a lot of creaming and screaming. 
Daddy's tongue is unbelievable.

So the third place I went into and the first one to 
even give me an interview was Gorgon's on 8th Street. 
It's a kind of a home-grown Hooters, but the girls 
don't wear tank-tops and shorts. They wear bikinis and 
heels during the day, I mean at lunch, and string 
bikinis in the evening, and all tips are supposed to be 
placed in the girls' clothes, if you know what I mean. 
I've heard stories about men who pushed money into 
willing quims. They have little dance circles and a 
small stage with a pole and some cages, and red and 
blue lights and a lot of kinky stuff, lap dances, 
private rooms and like that.

So anyhow, Mr. Gorgon, he told me to call him Nick, he 
interviewed me in his little office, and the first 
thing he did was ask me to take off my shirt. I blinked 
at him and then stripped it over my head and tossed 
back my long, auburn hair and showed him my tits. I 
mean, I'm proud of my boobs and they are beauties. Some 
of my boy friends just insist on called me Jugs. They 
love to smack `em and watch `em bounce. And sometimes, 
when I'm lonely, I suck `em myself.

"Jumping jacks," he said with a smile and I did few, 
showing him my cotton underpants I'm sure. He smiled 
some more and said, "Loose the skirt, sweetheart. Lemme 
see them long legs." So I tossed the skirt on my chair 
and took the usual model's pose, you know, one foot 
angled before the other, put my shoulders back and 
popped out my big, firm mounds, hand on hip, chin 
lifted. I knew my cameltoe was right out there too, 
right in his face, labia pulsing, clit erect.

"How old'd you say you were?" he asked, licking his 
lips.

"How old do I have to be?" I asked.

"Twenty-one," he said.

"I'm twenty-two," I told him, blinking my eyes and 
feeling my nipples getting hard in the air 
conditioning.

"What year were you born?" he asked, frowning.

I figured quickly and told him. He counted it out on 
his fingers. "OK," he said, "you're hired, but I'm 
going to pay you in cash every day, and it's going to 
be a gift and you don't have to pay tax on it or tell 
where you got it at. Fact is, don't tell anybody you 
work here. OK? I'm jus' yer generous old uncle."

I nodded.

"Your pussy shaved?" he asked. "Show me."

The truth was I don't have much pubic hair yet and what 
I did have was just a few reddish wisps I clipped off 
with scissors when I thought about it or somebody 
pointed out that it was showing. So I wiggled out of my 
underpants, and he blinked at me and my fuzz. And 
unzipped his trousers. I mean, I heard the zipper go 
down. It's a sound I've heard a few times.

He rotated his chair to the side and said, "Come here, 
honey."

I walked around his desk and to his knees, my big boobs 
bobbling nicely, rolling my hips some and starting to 
feel warm inside. They loved being free and by now my 
nipples were really poking up and out, looking like 
fingertips. Well, he was sitting there with his cock 
standing at attention. It wasn't very big, but it was 
very hard and pretty fat, and he had skinned it down so 
the head was poking out, looking like a plum.

"You want to suck it or fuck it?" he asked with a 
smile.

"What's the job pay, for forty hours I mean?" I asked 
him, licking my lips and looking at his face instead of 
his groin. I've sucked a lot of men, probably more than 
a hundred over the past couple of years, since I was 
barely eleven and my uncle showed me how to do it and 
then let his boys give me some more practice one rainy 
afternoon.

"It's sixty hours and it pays a hundred bucks a day 
plus tips. Most of the girls make at least another 
hundred. Some make a lot more, especially at night or 
if they do one a'them private parties"

"What? Ten hours a day for six days?"

"No," he said, making an odd face, his right hand on 
his quivering cock and left reaching for me. "Seven 
days a week, nine hours a day with some breaks."

"I don't know," I said, putting my feet a apart so he 
could get a good look at my tight-lipped pussy. No 
matter how much it is used, it recovers fast and is 
always ready for more. I can hold a flashlight or 
squeeze a straw with it. I haven't had one in me that 
was too big either, at least not yet.

"I'll guarantee you fifteen hundred a week. How's that. 
Fifteen hundred tax free `cause I know you ain't 
twenty-two. Shit, I doubt you're even eighteen."

I smiled, went to my knees, cupped his balls and sucked 
his puny cock into my wet mouth and swallowed it. You 
should have heard him moan. One of the girls at school 
taught me the trick, how to swallow it I mean. It 
really gets `em every time.

When I was done and he was leaning back in his chair 
looking very happy, I wiped my mouth on my panties, got 
dressed and he gave me my uniform in a manila envelope. 
The bag felt empty it was so light. When I got home, I 
dumped it out and there was a shrunken polka-dot bikini 
that looked big enough for a Barbie doll and a really 
tiny string suit, just three triangles of glittery 
stuff about as big a postage stamps and some elastic 
cords.

So, feeling foolish, I tried on the day-glo orange 
bikini with the white dots. It tied on my skinny hips 
and barely covered my pussy and my ass crack and the 
top was all stretchy stuff that clung like anything but 
bared both the top and lower half of my rack. 

I looked at myself in the mirror on my door and smiled. 
If I wore it to the pool, I'd probably get arrested; 
I'd certainly get lots of attention. I stood up on my 
toes and it looked even better even if my boobs were 
mostly uncovered. The top had a pair of ties right 
between my big jugs like the ties on the bottom, and I 
wondered if some wise-guy might pull the knots loose if 
I wasn't careful. There wasn't enough cord to double 
knot them so I planned on making a square knot.

Then I put on the string bikini and I must admit when I 
looked in the mirror, I was embarrassed. The top string 
hit almost halfway up my breasts and the triangles of 
shiny material barely covered my pink nipples. It hung 
from the back of my neck and the cords were round and 
stretchy and tied in the back. The bottom was what they 
call Brazilian I think, and it bared my ass completed 
and almost disappeared between my thighs. I couldn't 
imagine wearing it in public, and I would have to shave 
for real. I had to pull it up so my clit wouldn't peek 
out.

I was turning sideways and looking in the mirror when 
Daddy came in, made a face, licked his lips, blinked 
and said, "You get a job?"

I nodded, smiled, posed and said, "How you like my new 
bathing suit?"

"Honey,' he said, "that there ain't no suit for 
swimming," and he came over and grasped my boobs with 
both hands and tossed me right up on my bed and, opened 
his fly and hopped up on top of me. He just pushed the 
little piece of cloth between my legs aside and rammed 
in his big pecker, grunting like a hog. I just spread 
my legs and took it, as usual.

"How - ugh - how much - uh, uh, uh - they - ugh - they 
payin' - uh uh - you?" he gasped out as he fucked me, 
both his hand hands holding my butt, lifting me off the 
bed so only the back of my head was touching the 
covers.

"Hundred a day, Daddy," I told him. "But I got to work 
nine hours."

"That - uh, uh - that ain't - oh gawd - bad," he sobbed 
as he came very quickly, eyes closed, teeth bared, 
piston moving like one of those hemi Dodges.

So the next day, I went to work with my uniforms in my 
purse, changed where I was shown, chatted with some of 
the other waitresses, got some free advice mainly about 
avoiding grasping hands and met the bartender, a big 
man with an unlit cigar in his mouth. There was no 
smoking allowed in the place. 

"What're we gonna call you?" he asked.

"My name's Robin," I told him.

"Don' use real names in here, sweetheart. Gi'me 
another."

"OK, how about Honey. My daddy calls me Honey."

He wrote it on a big envelope like the one Mr. Gorgon 
had given me my bikinis in and said, "You can give me 
your tips, and I'll put `em in here. Understand. You 
ain't got no pockets." He looked me up and down in my 
tight little bikini and leered in a friendly way. I 
shook his hand and gave him a smile. He said his name 
was Mike, and then said, "Come on `round here so I can 
look at you."

He yanked my bikini top right down to my waist, pulled 
me to him and just about swallowed my right boob while 
his hand went down inside my bikini bottom and finger 
fucked me deeply, his thumb looking for my little 
nubbin. He switched to the other tit when he got his 
second finger in me, but Mr. Gorgon came in the front 
door about then and Mike quit, licked my nipple hard, 
pulled my top back in place, patted my ass and said he 
would see me later.

Anyhow lunch started at about ten-thirty and lasted 
until almost two, and it didn't take me long to figure 
out my job, with the help of some of the other girls. 
One guy untied the bottom of my suit on one side, but I 
didn't spill a beer getting away from him, and he gave 
me a twenty-dollar tip. So then we workers had lunch, 
shared a pitcher of beer, rested some since there was 
so little business, repaired our make-up and got ready 
for the evening with our tiny, string bikinis on.

One girl had a suit with a top that clipped on or was 
glued to her boobs, but most of them were like mine, 
just awful small, more strings than suit. All the cloth 
pieces were lined, but the girls' nipples were still 
easy to see as well as their heavy-lipped slits. I 
would guess the average age of the waitresses was 
twenty-five or thirty and most of them wore a lot of 
make-up, and some of them made me feel flat-chested 
they were so full of silicone. I just did my eyes some, 
made them darker and brushed the lashes. I felt like a 
younger sister, and most of them treated me that way.

About four o'clock three guys came in and sat at one of 
my tables so I hustled over and asked what they wanted 
to drink. Then my heart kind of jumped and I almost 
swallowed my tongue. They were teachers from my school, 
and I had been in a history class with one of them, Mr. 
Hadley, who was young and cute with a little beard. He 
looked at me kind of funny, but I had only gone to 
school in September, just three weeks.

When I brought their mugs of beer, this teacher said to 
me, "Aren't you Robin Smithy; weren't you in my third 
period class?" He had his grade book out on the table.

I smiled and shook my head, too scared to speak. I 
hurried away. Anyhow, they moved to one of the little 
rooms in the back and when I went to see what they 
wanted to eat or if they needed some more beer, Mr. 
Hadley got up and closed the door, latched it and told 
me to sit down on the leather bench.

One of the men smiled at me and said, "How old are you, 
Robin?" as Mr. Hadley untied my top and pulled it over 
my head so my boobs were bare and jiggly. Then he 
reached down and cupped them in his hands, squeezed and 
lifted them while he nuzzled my ear. That's when I knew 
I was in trouble.

"Please," I said, "my name's Honey and you shouldn't do 
this." By then Mr. Handley had unhooked the bottom of 
my string bikini and yanked it off. I was sitting there 
bare assed in my platform slides with my pussy all 
excited and my nipples getting hard and these three 
horny teachers getting all excited.

"Honey," said the other teacher, the oldest one, "I 
don't care what your name is or how old your are, but 
I'd sure like you to come over here and perch on this." 
I looked and he was holding up the biggest cock I had 
ever seen, both long and thick, eight or nine inches of 
man meat was my guess. It had veins on it like ropes 
and the head was arrow shaped, a real shovel. It looked 
like a piece of raw veal.

I nodded, wiggled out of Mr. Hadley's grip and got on 
the man's lap, smiled at him, rose on my toes and he 
guided his immense rod right into my little cunt, 
closed his eyes and I sank on it, grimacing I'm sure, 
as he pulled me to him. It bumped places nobody had 
ever been, and I was sure he was going to tear into my 
uterus or come out my throat.

"Oh, that's good," he said, leaning back and lifting my 
hips. "Joe, why don't you use the other hole while 
Hadley enjoys her mouth? You ever been triple teamed, 
Honey?" he asked me with his first deep thrust which 
felt like it went right up between my lungs. He had 
changed the angle of his penetration and it really hurt 
when he stretched me and rubbed my insides. I 
whimpered, and he thrust again, even harder.

I squealed. I hated being ass fucked although my daddy 
had done me that way a time or two and one of the guys 
on the high school basketball team cornholed me when I 
was twelve. Anyhow, this teacher dropped his trousers, 
spat in his hand and eased his cockhead into my anus 
while my history teacher fed me his hard cock and tried 
to get it down my throat. And there I was, in the back 
room at Gorgon's, entertaining three full-grown men, 
three hard and horny men. I tried to relax and think 
about the money I was making.

After the man deep in my vagina came, they traded 
places and Mr. Hadley slipped his stiff prick into my 
snatch and nibbled on one of my tits. Then the guy in 
my ass came, and the one who had been in my mouth took 
his place. And round and round they went for I-don't-
know how long, until they were spent I guess, and then 
they sat there, looking happy and made me get down on 
my knees and give each of them a good blow-job. I 
sucked till I was cross-eyed.

Mr. Hadley helped me to get back into my string bikini, 
doing a lot of pawing as he did, and each of them 
stuffed a twenty into my top and told me what a good 
girl I was.

At the end of the first day I worked at Gorgon's I had 
made $220 in tips, and Mike insisted on giving me a 
ride home. We closed at midnight but, by the time I got 
my clothes on it was almost one. I belted myself into 
Mike's Caddy, tired but pleased with myself, sore but 
satisfied that I had earned my pay.

"How old are you, Honey?" was the first thing he said.

"Twenty-two," I told him with a smile.

"Oh sure, and I'm a hundred and four. I mean really, 
kid, how old?"

"My drivers license, when I get it, will say I'm 
sixteen."

He laughed. "You are a very pretty and talented girl, a 
hard worker, and I've got a friend that will pay you 
good money for letting him take some pictures and make 
some films for him."

"Porn?" I asked.

"Sure, but softcore, no rough stuff."

"I don't know, Mike. I don't think my daddy would like 
it."

"I'll be there. I work for him sometimes on account I'm 
so well hung. He's a good guy, honest. Besides, I'd 
like to finish what we started back at the bar. Your 
pussy sure felt good, nice and tight."

"What do you expect, Mike," I said, "I'm only 
thirteen."

He gawked at me, lost control, jumped the curb and hit 
a mailbox before he yanked his big car back to the 
street. "Thirteen!" he yelled like I was on fire. And 
then he cursed something awful. "Where do you live?"

He drove me home quickly and without saying anything. 
When we got there, while my hand was still on the door 
handle, he said, "Wait a minute." And he dug his wallet 
out and handed me a wad of bills. "You're fired, Honey. 
Sorry. You can keep those stupid suits, but don't come 
to work. Thirteen, my gawd." And he grabbed my hair, 
pulled me to his face and kissed me hard and then said, 
"Get out of here."

Daddy was snoring when I got upstairs so I went right 
to bed with my favorite toy in my slot, the one with 
the funny little knobs. Tomorrow, I guess I'll have to 
go out and try to find another job.

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 59