His Milk Supplier
Elliot Silvestri
His Milk Supplier
A Novel of Erotic Lactation
Elliot Silvestri
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
His Milk Supplier
-1-
Copyright © 2024 Green Bush Publishing
First Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
A Green Bush Publishing Book
The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 1
Chelsea looked blearily at the card that had been shoved into her hands. She wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t read it but what she was able to make out didn’t make sense. It had to be one of those ridiculous things that were only distributed outside of clubs at 2am on a Sunday morning.
Need cash? Open minded? Willing to have your picture taken? Have nice boobs? $100 for a picture of your chest.
The text on the top of the page was followed by an intentionally blurry picture of someone’s breasts with the nipples obscured and then a phone number.
Not wanting to just throw it on the ground—littering was a crime—she shoved the 5x7 card in the tiny pocket of her skirt. The only reason she had bought the skirt was that it had a pocket that fit her cell phone. Her phone was in her hand and dinged with a message. Her Uber had arrived. She took a second to confirm the driver was who she claimed she was and fell into the backseat.
The ride to her apartment wasn’t far, she only took the Uber because it was easier and safer. Her friends were her friends and weren’t that reliable and were drunker than she was. It wasn’t that Chelsea couldn’t have gone home with a nice boy she had picked up in the club, it was that there weren’t any nice boys that night.
The Uber was too expensive to go far. She didn’t go far. The driver was nice enough to wait until Chelsea managed to stumble through the outside security door.
In the morning Chelsea looked at two things. Her phone was in one hand showing her bank account balance was negative two dollars and thirty cents.
In her other hand was the card.
“Bullshit,” she said to the card, knowing it was promising nothing more than a lie.
It was another week to payday. She had some food in her tiny apartment. She could work a few shifts at the pizza place and grab some food that way.
A hundred dollars for a picture of her tits was awfully tempting.
“Who the fuck would want a picture of these?” she asked her empty apartment, her hands covering her tiny breasts.
She sat with that thought for a minute and wondered if she was still slightly drunk from the previous night. It was nearly noon on a Sunday. She had to be at work at 7am tomorrow morning. Calling now was a waste of time.
Chelsea didn’t have anything else to do at the moment.
She called.
It was an automated message.
“If you are interested in the offer on card number 8567 please go to 783 Monroe Street between noon and 6pm any day of the week. Please bring proper ID. Payment will be made in cash after the pictures are taken.” The words were spoken in a clear voice with no discernible accent.
Monroe Street was in the heart of the Presidential neighborhood of downtown, so called because all the streets were named after early US presidents. The neighborhood itself was fine, sort of a crossroads of student slums, college retail opportunities, too many bars and liquor stores, some older residential housing, and a section that was always on the verge of gentrification.
Chelsea knew the area well. She lived in it.
What the hell. She needed to get out of her apartment and a walk would do her good.
Much to her surprise, the exterior of 783 Monroe Street was a presentable retail establishment. It was a photography studio and looked like a legitimate business. She walked in. The bell attached to the door announced her presence. The counter was empty. The tiny reception area was vacant, but she could hear someone moving around in the back.
“Just a minute,” a voice called.
Chelsea waited patiently. She looked around for security cameras but didn’t see any.
The man who emerged looked exactly like she imagined a somewhat shady photographer would look. Curly sandy hair that was a little too long, thick glasses, harried appearance, blue button down shirt and jeans.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking her up and down, taking stock, but not in a creepy way.
Not knowing what else to say, Chelsea pulled the advertisement card from her pocket and presented it to him. “I was given this and I wanted to know if it was real.”
He nodded and frowned slightly. “Yeah. A hundred bucks for a picture of your naked boobs. Cash. Are you at least eighteen?” His eyes narrowed on her.
“Yes! I just look young.”
“Uh-huh. Most women don’t show up alone.”
She blinked. “They don’t?”
“Usually I get a handful of sorority girls, giggling and laughing, daring each other to go through with it. Show me your ID and I’ll take the picture. No other questions asked.”
Maybe he wasn’t going to ask any questions, but she sure as hell was. “Who are the pictures for?”
The photographer shrugged. “Not me. I don’t know. I just send the pictures to an email address. Once a month I get a check.”
“Is this some sort of blackmail thing?”
He chuckled. “Would I admit that even if it was? I don’t want to know your name. I just need an email address or phone number. You can wear a mask when I take the picture. You can have a bag over your head. It doesn’t matter. All I send is a picture from the shoulders down to however low I need to go. Do you want the hundred bucks or not? Takes me five minutes.”
It wasn’t that he was bored, but Chelsea got the impression he had gone through this hundreds of times. If this was a creepy sex thing for him…well, it was odd. Maybe he’d be able to match her boobs to her face but—
“Look, think it over if you want. Come back anytime, noon to six.” He started to go into the back.
“You said cash, right?”
He paused at the door. “Yes.”
“You won’t take pictures of my face.”
He sighed. “That’s right. Look, I don’t know what is done with these pictures, but there’s a lot easier and cheaper ways for perverts to get their jollies.”
“I’ll do it,” she said.
A hundred dollars wasn’t just a hundred dollars. It was food for the week.
He stepped back to the counter. “ID?”
She pulled out her driver’s license and showed him that she was twenty-four, the legal age to do just about anything but run for Congress.
He handed back the ID without recording her name.
“Phone or email?” he asked. “They might want to contact you later.”
“I thought you said this was cash today?”
“It is, but part of the payment is you have to give me a phone number or email address. They might want to contact you.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. For more pictures.” He sighed. “Look, you can give me a fake one and I’ll never know.”
She nodded and gave him her phone number. It would be easy enough to block if she started getting creepy calls.
“Come on back,” he said after writing it down.
The back was exactly like every other photography studio she had ever seen. Mostly it was black walls and black drapes and racks of equipment and lights. The photographer indicated a place for her to take off her shirt. “There’s masks in the box on the floor if you want to wear one. I honestly don’t care if you do.”
Telling herself this was exactly like going to the doctor’s office, Chelsea pulled off her shirt and then her camisole before donning an elaborate mask that was supposed to be some sort of bird. It was fancy and ornamental and had feathers all over it. The important part was that it covered all of her face except her mouth. It might have been supposed to be an owl.
“I’m ready,” she said, turning around to face the photographer.
“Stand over here,” he said, pointing at a place on the floor. He was adjusting his digital camera.
She stood on the X taped to the floor and let her hands hang loosely at her sides. This was crazy, she told herself, but she didn’t stop the proceedings.
The photographer glanced up at her when he was ready.
“Oh. You have nipple piercings.”
Chelsea blushed under her mask. She didn’t know why his pointing out the jewelry made her embarrassed. “Yes. Sorry. Should I take them out?”
“Don’t bother. It won’t change anything.”
“Is it a problem?” she asked as he made some more adjustments to the camera.
“Nope. I’ve photographed plain and pierced and tattooed and lopsided and everything else.”
He focused the camera on her chest and pressed a button. The flash went off. She was temporarily blinded. How many pictures did he take?
“Done,” he announced. “Want to see the results?”
“Uh…sure?”
He turned the camera around and showed her the display. As promised, her small breasts were on display. The top of the picture stopped at her neck and shoulders. She sort of liked the way the silver rings almost flashed in the light. Her nipples were small, matching her breast size, and also matching her areola. Maybe they would have been better if they were a little bigger. The one nice thing about having small breasts was that she didn’t have to ever wear a bra if she didn’t want to. As it was, wearing a bra was merely ornamental on Chelsea. She didn’t need support. Her breasts were more like bulges on her chest, no hanging at all. There was no way she would ever pass the pencil test.
“Is it…good?” she asked while fighting the urge to cover up her breasts with her hands.
He just shrugged. “Sure. I’ve seen hundreds of ‘em. Yours are nice. Get dressed and I’ll pay you.”
Out at the counter, after she had put her top back on and tossed the mask into the box, the photographer opened up a locked drawer. “A hundred dollar bill or twenties?” he asked.
“Twenties,” she replied. A hundred would be looked at with great suspicion where she planned on spending the money.
He handed over five twenties and smiled at her, locking the drawer. “Thanks,” he said.
“Is there…can I do this again?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Once per customer.” Seeing the look of defeat on her face, he added, “I know some nude photographers who will pay you…but you’ll have to show your face and some are…rather explicit.”
“Okay. Right. Maybe later,” she said and left.
All in all it was the strangest way she had ever made money.
At least now she could eat for the week.
Chapter 2
Two days later Chelsea was walking from her regular job at the early childhood education center to her second job at one of the better pizzerias in the Presidential neighborhood when she got a call from an unknown number. She debated answering it at all. It could only be trouble.
“Hello?”
“Are you interested in earning five hundred dollars by doing a follow up interview for the picture you had taken at 783 Photography?”
The question came out of the blue. No introduction. No preliminaries. Just the blunt question.
“Who is this?” Chelsea scanned the sidewalk. Just the usual students and shifty regulars walking. Nothing strange.
“My name is John.” She tried to place whether or not this was the same voice on the answering machine for the photography place. “Are you interested in the money or not?”
“I’m not getting forced into doing something,” she said flatly. “There are laws against revenge porn.”
“I’m well aware. This isn’t anything like that. Think of it as a sociology survey. It shouldn’t take more than an hour. It will be anonymous. We can do it in a public location.”
“How do I know this isn’t a scam?” Chelsea asked.
“You don’t. Do you want the five hundred or not?”
She arrived at the door to Pizza My Heart. “Sure. When and where?” Chelsea was convinced she was being conned in some way. But five hundred dollars would go a long way.
“Tomorrow, 4pm, Coffee With The President.”
John disconnected the call.
“Has to be a scam,” she muttered to herself before going into the pizzeria. Yes, she would come out smelling of garlic and tomatoes, but she’d also be seventy-five dollars richer, minus taxes, at the end of the pay period.
Five hundred for even an hour’s work sounded like a dream.
The next day it occurred to her she had no way of knowing what John looked like when she walked into Coffee With The President. It was a typical coffee bar with overpriced drinks and pastries. There was no way she was buying herself anything, not even the infamous glass of water for a dollar, plus tax. Scanning the room, she saw it was half full but no one stood out to her.
Ignoring the prominently posted signs, she walked with confidence to the bathroom, intent on using it without making a single purchase first. She was halfway to the door when her phone buzzed. Unable to help herself, she glanced at it, saw the time was precisely 4:00pm. The caller ID simply said “Unknown.”
“Hello?”
“Ah. I see you now,” said the voice she recognized as John. “Very prompt. Stay where you are.” The call disconnected.
She looked around and a second later John appeared in front of her. He was unassuming and bland. Pleasant enough to look at but hardly notable. Average height, average build, plain clothing. Chelsea could have walked right by him and never noticed him. In fact, she probably did just that walking to the bathroom.
“I’m John. Would you like a coffee before we begin?”
She said yes. Five minutes later she was sipping at an overly expensive flat white and facing John across the table of a semi-private booth.
He pulled out an iPad and brought it to life. “It will take a few minutes to go through all of these questions. You’ll be paid in cash at the end. Some of the questions might be embarrassing. If you want, you can answer them later on the phone or via text or email. Ready to begin?”
Focusing on the promised five hundred dollars, Chelsea nodded and sipped at her drink.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
She noticed he didn’t ask her name.
“At what age did you get your first period?”
He had warned her some of the questions could be embarrassing. Her face flushed and she hoped he didn’t notice or chalked it up to the hot drink.
“Twelve.”
“Did you start developing breasts at the same time?”
“Yeah. I guess.” She dropped her gaze to her nearly flat chest. “Started and stopped.”
“Do you have any health conditions?”
“I’ve been told I should eat more. It’ll make me taller.”
He gave her a look.
She shrugged. “It was mostly told to me by my grandmother when I was a teenager.”
“Mental health conditions?”
“Does being stressed out all of the time count?”
He made a note on his iPad. “Yes. Height?”
“Five foot two,” she lied.
He glanced up at her. “With shoes on,” she amended.
“Weight?”
“One oh five.”
“Dress size?”
“Small or extra small, size 2 or 4 usually. Often petite.”
“Bra size?”
There it was. She had been expecting that.
“A or double A, depends on the style and cut. I don’t wear bras that often. Are you going to ask my measurements as well?”
John glanced up at her. “Those come later.”
“I’ll answer now. I don’t know. I don’t measure myself.”
“Noted.” He paused and made a note she couldn’t see on the iPad. “When did you have your nipples pierced?”
“How did you know?” She had a plainly shocked look on her face.
He looked up. “I just read the questions on the iPad,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh.”
He looked at her. “Your answer?”
“Oh. Right. Uh…sophomore year.”
His eyes went wide.
“Sophomore year of college. I was…nineteen. Did it because the other girls in my group did it as well. I might have been drunk.”
“I don’t need to know that,” John said and looked down to his iPad. “But apparently you need to tell me if you’ve ever considered removing them.”
“Yes, but I haven’t. Obviously.”
John, still reading from the iPad.
“Why haven’t you removed them?”
“Um…because I was drunk when I got them and I knew I would never do it again. I’m afraid of pain. If I ever took them out, I’d never do it again.”
Her face was bright red at this point.
“Any other body piercings?” he asked.
“No. Not unless you count my ear lobes.” She lifted her long blonde hair helpfully.
“Tattoos?”
“Nope. Fear of needles and pain, remember?”
“When was the last time you had sex?”
Chelsea didn’t answer right away. She just looked at John.
“Why do you need to know that?” she asked him.
He sighed and frowned. “I don’t need to know it. I’m just asking the questions that pop up on the iPad.”
“So I could answer these questions online?”
“I suppose you could. I’m here partly to evaluate your truthfulness. I give a report when I’m done if I think you’re being honest in your answers.”
“Why?”
“Why am I doing this or why do my employers want to know if you’re being honest?”
She considered his response question. “Both.”
“I’m doing this for the same reason you are: the money. I get paid fifty dollars for every survey I fill out with a client.”
“I’m getting ten times that.”
“I know, but I’m not an attractive young woman, am I? Even so, fifty dollars for less than an hour of work is good money.”
“Why do you think your employer wants to know if I’m being honest?”
“I don’t know and I don’t really care.”
She shrugged.
John waited. “Are you going to answer the question?”
“Uh…about a week ago. Last weekend, not this weekend.”
He entered her answer into the iPad and read the next question.
“Are you currently active on any dating apps?”
“Active?”
“Do you use dating apps?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you met someone in person on any app?”
“Maybe a month ago…”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“If you mean in the romantic or sexual sense, no.”
“Any regular sex partner?”
“No.”
“How many sex partners have you had in the past year?”
Chelsea had to pause to count.
John looked at her expectantly.
“Well?”
“I’m counting…thinking.”
“An estimate would be fine.”
“Six,” she answered.
“Please break that down by men, women, nonbinary, or other,” he said.
“Uh…all six were men.”
“Have you ever had a sexual encounter with anyone other than a man?”
“Why the hell is it asking that?”
John shrugged. “I just ask what it tells me.” He flipped the screen around to show her the question. He also indicated a counter in the corner. “When that reaches 500, we’re done. If you want to stop before the 500 mark, I pay you that amount of money.”
The counter currently read 270.
How much worse could the questions be?
“Just men. No women.” Chelsea mentally crossed her fingers and didn’t count the girl in her dorm during sophomore year she made out with while drunk. She even felt up Josie’s boobs. It was interesting because Chelsea hardly had any tits of her own to experiment with. Josie was understandably disappointed with Chelsea’s chest. That was as far as it went. It wasn’t sex.
“Are you pregnant?”
“Ha! No.”
“Have you ever been pregnant?”
She eyed him. “No.”
“What do you currently use for birth control, if anything?” He glanced up at her again. “I’m just reading the questions.”
“Understood.” She glanced around the coffee house and noted that absolutely no one seemed to care what they were doing. The benefit of public privacy. “IUD currently. And condoms.”
“Have you ever had breast augmentation?”
Chelsea snorted. “I should think that would be an automatic no.” She gestured to her chest. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You just read the questions.”
“Have you ever had breast reduction?”
Now she rolled her eyes. “No.”
“Have you ever considered breast augmentation?”
Chelsea gave that question some thought. “Considered? Sure. Would I ever go through with it? No.”
“If you ever considered breast augmentation why didn’t you go through with it?” John looked up at her again. “I just read the questions,” he repeated.
“It’s almost like they know what I’m thinking,” she muttered. “Why? Because I don’t have the money and, more importantly, I’m afraid of needles and pain and there’s no way I’m going through a surgery that is completely optional.”
John entered all that on his iPad and Chelsea sipped from her paper cup. The flat white had gone too cool. She didn’t really care. She hadn’t paid for it. She wondered if John got an expense account for this sort of thing.
He looked up at her. “That’s it, we're done.” He turned the iPad around again and showed her the screen. There was a 500 in the corner and the display simply read “Finished”.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew a plain white envelope and passed it to her.
Chelsea felt like she was accepting a political bribe or was the go-between for a drug deal. Inside the unsealed envelope were five one hundred dollar bills. She almost wanted to ask for twenty-five twenties, but she’d make do with the large denomination bills. Looking at them made her heart race. “Wow. They just let you walk around with this kind of cash?”
John shrugged. “This has been a lucrative side business for me. If I start screwing around with the money, it’ll dry up real quick.”
“I see.”
“We’re done. Thank you for your time.” He put his iPad inside his jacket pocket and stood up.
“That’s it?” she asked, confused.
“Were you expecting something more?”
“I…I suppose not. But do you know if there’s a way to make more money like this?”
He laughed at her. “Sorry. No. I’ll never see you again. I never do.”
He exited Coffee With The President, leaving Chelsea confused and disappointed.
Chapter 3
All in all, Chelsea didn’t have anything to complain about. She had made an easy six hundred dollars and only had to answer some humiliating and personal questions and allow a picture to be taken of her tits. She had done worse in an effort to go home with a guy from a bar.
And now she had money to last a couple of weeks without having to work extra shifts at Pizza My Heart. It was so nice, in fact, that she decided she’d do a lot more with her mysterious benefactor if it meant avoiding slinging pizzas and dealing with drunk customers.
Working at the preschool she didn’t mind, even when it involved vomit, poop, or pee—all launched from a child’s body—because that was the job she wanted.
Still, she was hopeful and called back the number John had called from. It was disconnected. She called the photographer’s number and that was blocked as well. Chelsea decided to be bold and walked back into the studio. He recognized her and spoke with her.
“No more pictures,” he said flatly.
“But—”
“Nude modeling for my friends, but that’s it. Full body, semi-porn, must show your face.”
“I don’t—”
“That’s the option. Take it or leave it. I’ll give you a minute to decide and then I call the police to have you removed.”
She wasn’t that desperate. Yet. She left.
By some miracle, a week later she received another anonymous phone call.
“Am I speaking with Chelsea Schneider?” She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was a man and sounded pleasant enough.
“Yes…”
“Did you pose for a topless picture with 783 Photography a week ago?”
Her heart started thundering in her chest.
“Y-y-yes,” she heard herself stutter out. This was it. She had ruined her life.
“You’ve fallen into a dating profile that is attractive to our client. Are you interested in a date?”
While she understood the words, Chelsea didn’t understand what was being asked.
“A date?”
“Yes, a date. Our client would like to meet you in person for drinks and dinner, if you are so inclined. Are you interested or not?” It was businesslike and to the point. To Chelsea’s way of thinking, it was as if she was being offered a job interview.
But there was the possibility of money, wasn’t there? She wasn’t bold enough to make the suggestion.
“I suppose…”
“Excellent. Tomorrow evening at six pm. Mr. Holt will pick you up at your apartment.”
The call disconnected.
Chelsea looked at her phone like it had just mugged her.
She didn’t need to work that evening at Pizza My Heart. Right up to six she was certain this was all some sort of joke, but just to be sure, she dressed up for the occasion. Nice blue skirt, nice floral blouse, nude stockings, actual shoes with heels and not sneakers, did her hair (not that she had all that much to do with a short blonde bob of the finest, thinnest hair a woman could grow), and put on makeup. If nothing else, she liked how she looked in the mirror.
Her heart jumped when the buzzer to the security door sounded. Unable to help herself, she looked at the time on her phone. Precisely six pm.
“Yes?” she said after thumbing the PA button.
“It’s Glenn Holt here to pick you up for our date,” said a pleasant voice.
“Be right down.”
It was almost like a blind date. She told herself she wasn’t going to be kidnapped. She told herself that this was a normal way to meet people. Only when she headed out her apartment door did she realize there was no way for this guy—Glenn Holt?—to know her first and last name.
The man standing outside her security door was handsome in an unassuming way. He had a closely trimmed beard, light brown hair, was wearing a jacket, no tie, blue dress shirt, and somewhat incongruously, jeans.
He smiled and stuck out his hand to greet her when she opened the door. “Glenn Holt. Pleased to meet you, Chelsea.” He said some more words but she found herself mesmerized by his green eyes.
Soon enough she found herself in his car—a Toyota Supra which seemed an odd choice, but a nice vehicle—and then at the restaurant he had chosen.
Their entrées were being placed on the table before Chelsea managed to wrap her head around what had just happened. The fancy restaurant. The sports car. The money she had earned from his questions and the photo.
The photo!
“Have you been stalking me?” she accused him.
“I wouldn’t call it stalking,” he said mildly. “More of a…personalized dating service.”
“You essentially paid me six hundred dollars to go out on a date with you,” she accused.
“Well, I paid that money to narrow down a large pool of women to ones that would interest me.” He raised his drink in salute to her.
“That’s…sleazy as hell.”
“In what way?”
“You asked all those very personal questions about me. You’ve seen me naked!” Just the thought was enough to make her cross her arms in front of her chest.
“I’ve only seen you topless,” he corrected her.
“That’s sleazy!”
“I know what I like,” he admitted. “Why waste time with women that won’t interest me?”
“I’m not a commodity; I’m a person.”
“As if any dating app you use doesn’t treat people like commodities.”
She frowned. Essentially, he was correct. “I still don’t like it.” Her brow furrowed. “And what’s with the anonymous photos of women’s breasts?”
“I know what I like,” he replied easily.
As much as she hated it, Chelsea was intrigued. “Do you really like women with small breasts? And do you really spend…I don’t know…thousands of dollars just to meet women?”
He toyed with his glass before putting it down and contemplated his steak. “To answer your second question first, yes, I did spend thousands of dollars to meet women. It’s money well spent.”
“You must be…rich…”
He shrugged. “I have money…how one measures wealth is a sliding scale.”
She contemplated those words and quickly decided he was rich. “Answer my first question now.”
“I like women with all sorts of sizes of breasts. Yours intrigued me.”
“Why?”
“Because they were small and pretty.”
“I suppose I should give you points for honesty.” She gulped down too much of her wine all at once and it went right to her head, making her dizzy.
“Thank you. More wine?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He poured for her. “Now you need to answer some questions for me.”
“Of course.”
“How old are you?
“Thirty four.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Money management.”
“That sounds sleazy.”
“It is.”
She was mildly surprised at his honesty. To cover that up she drank some more wine.
“Family money?”
“Partly. I’ve convinced a bunch of people to let me manage their money.”
“Uh-huh. Are you just looking to get laid or what?”
“Tonight? I’d love to get laid. But I could just hire a sex worker if I wanted to get laid.”
“So you want a relationship…and you thought this was the best way to go about finding one.”
“I want a relationship, a sexual one, of course, but only time will tell if this is the best way to go about it.”
She glared at him. “Maybe hiring a sex worker would have been a better investment,” she told him. “I don’t see you getting laid tonight.”
“Huh. What about you getting laid tonight?” he asked her.
“Me? I’ve been to college and took one dance class as part of the Phys Ed requirement. It takes two to tango.”
“Do you want to tango?” he asked.
“I can go to any club in this city and walk out with a guy of my choice.”
He nodded. “I’d like to see that. What club? Do you mind if I watch?”
“Watch me pick up a guy?”
“Yes. That. And then watch as you fuck him later.”
He said it so seriously that it made her giggle.
“Are you a voyeur?” she asked.
“Among other things.”
“What kinks are you into?” she asked, leaning forward, wishing she had cleavage to show off. The wine had gone straight to her head.
That wasn’t a bad thing.
He was a gentleman in driving her home. Just as they turned the corner to her street, she turned to him and asked, “If I did go home with you, where would you take me?”
“Let me show you.”
His place wasn’t far from hers. That was the thing about the city, go a few blocks and you were in a different world. For example, Chelsea lived in a one bedroom efficiency walkup with the only amenity being a security door. Glenn lived in a three story brownstone facing the park with a private garage under the building.
Chelsea had done far worse on a night of sex in far sleazier places.
“You have a nice view,” she said when he brought her up to the top floor of his house. One wall was all windows and a glass door that led out to a balcony. The windows faced west and would have a great view of the sunset, but it was already dark. Still, the park was still pretty at night.
He was standing back and admiring her body against the night sky. “I sure do.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t be so obvious.”
He nodded. “Okay, let’s take off our clothes and have sex.” He let his jacket slip off his shoulders and tossed it aside before kicking off his shoes. Chelsea just stood there watching. She was surprised when he started unbuttoning his shirt and was frozen in place after stepping out of her heels. Glenn calmly dropped his pants but left on his underwear that clearly outlined his rather impressively sized cock. Maybe it wasn’t erect, but it was impressive. He didn’t have massive muscles, but he was in good shape.
Chelsea was more than slightly tempted. She just needed to give into temptation now.
She wanted to give in to temptation.
She didn’t flinch as he approached her. Chelsea was used to having sex with men more than twice her size. Maybe Glenn wasn’t that large but he towered over her and his arms seemed to envelope her.
Raising her face to his she found his kiss oddly tender.
The moment he pulled back from the kiss she blurted out: “Can I suck your cock?”
He seemed surprised by the question but nodded. “Sure. If you want. I want you to have a good time.”
“I like sucking cock,” she told him and went down on her knees in front of him. The living room had a hardwood floor but the rug in front of the windows was plush and soft to kneel on. He allowed her to pull down his underwear and she was delighted with his cock. He was already mostly erect. His pubic hair was trimmed short and his manhood stood up proudly. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and took the head in her mouth.
It only took a minute of sucking before she elicited the first groan from Glenn.
“You know what you’re doing,” he complimented her.
“I’ve sucked cock before,” she admitted, taking a quick break from giving him head. She ducked down lower, gently took his balls in her mouth for a moment, before traveling her tongue up the underside. Back at the head she tasted his precum that was leaking and savored the salty, slippery liquid.
She then proceeded to take as much of his cock down her throat as she could. Glenn looked down at her with admiring eyes. She managed to get her small nose right up against his pubic bone without choking. He wasn’t so large that it was painful, but she couldn’t hold that position for long.
“You don’t have a gag reflex,” he complimented her as she withdrew.
“I do, but I’ve learned to suppress it.”
“You don’t have to impress me.”
“Maybe I was doing this for me,” she suggested.
Glenn just shook his head and pulled Chelsea to her feet. He wasn’t the least bit shy about being naked in front of her while she was fully dressed.
“I’d love to take you to my bed and fuck you,” he said, lowering his head for a kiss.
“Sure,” she agreed.
“Wonderful.”
What she didn’t expect was for him to dip down and literally pick her up, cradling her to his body. “Whoa. Careful.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he said as he carried her away from the windows. That disappointed her. She sort of wanted to fuck in front of them, just to show off for a possible voyeur, but that was a fantasy for another day.
His bedroom was in the back of the brownstone, the same top level with the living room. The bed was huge. The room was neat and tidy. Glenn placed her lightly on the bed.
“You’re stronger than you look,” she complimented him as she got on her knees and took his cock in her hand, bending forward to suck him some more.
“If you keep doing that I’m not going to be able to strip you and fuck you,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled around his cock.
“And I’ll cum in your mouth. Do you want that?”
She paused and looked up at him. “I swallow,” she teased him.
“Wonderful. Can I fuck you though?”
As much as Chelsea loved to give head, being the center of attention for a few minutes might be nice. Backing off she pulled up her flowered blouse. She was about to pull off her camisole, but he was right there, his fingers at her waist, tugging upward, removing the garment.
She leaned back and showed off her tiny tits. “Too small for you?” she asked.
More than one guy had been severely disappointed by her flat chest and had ended things as soon as her shirt came off.
Either Glenn didn’t care, or knew what to expect—he had seen her topless photo, after all—or was turned on by tiny tits. Leaning back she knew she made them look smaller. He shook his head. “They’re gorgeous. I love the rings.”
His hands went to her chest and she trembled slightly as his fingers lightly pinched her nipples, exploring the rings through the pink flesh.
“You like that.” It was a statement, not a question.
Chelsea nodded. “Uh-huh,” was all she could say. She wasn’t exactly ready to have a paroxysm of pleasure, but her small nipples were her weakness.
Glenn bent forward and sucked one of her nipples. She trembled again, tried to break away, but instead wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding on for dear life.
He noticed her reaction. “Can you cum from having your tits played with?”
“My nipples, yeah…”
“Want me to do that for you right now?”
“Um…”
“Or I could take off the rest of your clothes and fuck you,” he offered. She glanced downward and noted his erection. It hadn’t abated.
“Make me cum,” she said, not giving him explicit directions.
Glenn eased her down to the mattress, on her back, and joined her. He kissed both her small tits, almost completely flat now that she was supine, and half lay atop her, his mouth on one nipple, his fingers playing with the other.
She felt the heat of his attention in her pussy. She was soaking wet. She wanted him to rip her clothes off and fuck her hard.
Instead, he was distracted by the contrast of the hard metal rings through her soft flesh. Even with both her nipples fully hard and erect, the pink tissue was still infinitely softer than the silver in her flesh.
“Interesting,” he said contemplatively, breaking his sucking. Though her breasts were small, he had no trouble latching on to her nipple, sucking all of it into his mouth.
“Keep going,” Chelsea begged.
“I’ve never been with a woman who had pierced nipples,” he mused.
She grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to her nipple.
Glenn got the hint.
He sucked. He liked slipping the tip of his tongue into the little circle made by the ring, compacting her nipple. She liked it when he sucked hard on one nipple while twisting the other. She rubbed her thighs together and wanted to shove her hand down to her pussy and masturbate. She was so close to the edge. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cum from having her nipples played with, it was that it was difficult for her to do so.
Difficult, but worth it.
The way he was half pinning her down, she couldn’t get either of her hands to her pussy and so she focused on what he was doing to her tits. It was lovely to let go.
It was lovely to feel herself pulled over the peak. Her limbs trembled and her body shook as she came. Chelsea was certain her panties were a swampy mess.
After her moment of crisis had passed, Chelsea realized that Glenn was laughing lightly at her.
“What?” she demanded.
“I’ve never made a woman cum just from sucking on her tits before.”
She frowned and pushed at his arms, trying to force him off her. It was a wasted effort, but he moved to the side. “Just one of my many superpowers,” she said and noted that his erection hadn’t gone down at all. Unable to help herself, she reached out and stroked his erection again. “You’re the first guy to make me cum without taking my panties off first.”
“I’ll take that compliment,” he said with a grin. “Do you mind if I take them off now?”
“Please!”
Glenn adjusted his position and was momentarily stymied by her skirt. She wiggled around and lowered the zipper for him. When he pulled her skirt down her legs he was disappointed to see she was wearing the most boring stockings ever. They went up to her waist and were semi-sheer. He was disappointed. Even though he could see she was wearing a pair of red panties under the stockings, it was decidedly unsexy to him.
Seeing the disappointment on his face, she asked, “Problem?” Just the way he was looking at her made her nervous, like he was going to reject her or humiliate her.
“I was hoping you were wearing thigh highs,” he said.
“Does it matter?” She tried not to sound like she was snapping at him, though that’s exactly what it sounded like. “Why don’t I just take them off?”
As Chelsea went to hook her thumbs into the stockings’ waistband, he grabbed her wrists and stopped her. “Let me.”
He all but tore the stockings from her body. There was no way they survived his rough removal. Chelsea knew she should have been upset, but found it unimportant in the moment. After all, he had essentially given her six hundred dollars. What was that in the face of a pair of ten dollar stockings?
Glenn tossed the scraps aside and bent down to kiss her belly. He kissed lower but stopped at the top edge of her panties. Suddenly she was self-conscious of how wet her pussy was and how soaked her panties were. If Glenn cared, he didn’t show it. There was no way she was strong enough to stop him anyway. He pulled down the panties, leaving her naked. If he noticed her dripping panties he gave no indication.
He smiled at her. “You’re a natural blonde.”
Chelsea went to cover her pussy with her hand, but realized that was stupid. She didn’t really shave or wax her pubes. She didn’t have the time, money, or patience to do so. The best she did was shave her legs and edge the sides of her dark blonde curls so they didn’t stick out of her underwear. For this date she had trimmed the length a bit, but she had always been an all-natural girl.
“Yes.”
“I like it.”
He pushed her legs apart and dove in, face first. He tasted her and she moaned. She was wet. Too wet. She didn’t need him to eat her out…but she loved it anyway. Her clit was throbbing. As he focused on her sex, her hands went to her nipples and she idly twisted and pinched them, adding to her pleasure.
While Chelsea wasn’t above being treated like a lady, she liked to be a full participant when it came to sex. Even so, she let him give her another orgasm by eating her pussy.
When her intense cries and trembling stopped he lifted his face from her crotch and wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand. “You are a slutty girl, aren’t you?”
“Sort of…”
“It’s a compliment.”
“I know.” She reached for his cock again. “But I want to fuck. I need you inside me.”
That was all the permission Glenn needed. In a flash he had his cock in hand, sliding the tip between her lips, smearing her amrita all over the head, getting the measure of her.
Chelsea just panted, waiting to be penetrated. It was all she could do to stop herself from grabbing his cock and pulling him inside her.
And then he was pushing in and filling her up and it was the most wonderful thing in the world. It took him a few strokes, but eventually he got all the way inside, measuring her depths.
“Ohh,” she moaned. “All the way in…”
“You know what I like?” he asked her.
Chelsea flopped her head back and forth, her short hair somehow sticking to her face. “No…what?”
“I like it when the woman is on top.”
Showing agility and grace, Glenn somehow managed to roll her from her back to a vertical position with him now supine, looking up at her.
“Oh. Wow.” She was surprised their bodies hadn’t separated. His cock was firmly lodged in her pussy; she was sitting happily on the thick spike of flesh.
“I want to watch you fuck me,” he said.
Chelsea actually liked being on top, not because she liked to pretend she was a cowgirl, but because she didn’t wind up crushed by the guy. Sometimes that was fun, but she thought that maybe showing off for Glenn might be more fun.
She started riding. Right away his eyes went to her tits. He never looked at her face. She knew there wasn’t much movement or bounce to her tits, but she sort of liked the attention he was giving her.
“Can I play with your tits?”
“Sure.”
He grabbed them firmly and pinched harder than she liked. Chelsea gasped and was about to tell him to stop, but then he started thrusting up into her. Maybe she didn’t mind it as much as she thought…
“You’ve got that look on your face,” he said as she continued to move, but more carefully.
“What…what look?”
“That you’re about to cum.”
She didn’t want to validate him, but it was true. She could feel it in her nipples…and her fingers that were tingling with numbness…and her pussy totally focused on her clit that was making her amrita flow like a slow waterfall. Her mouth was dry and she was ever so happy to cum from everything that was going on.
If not for Glenn’s hands on her tits, she would have collapsed on his chest.
“I’m totally spent,” she said.
“I haven’t cum yet,” he told her.
“Go ahead and cum,” she mumbled, more than happy to let his arms support her thin torso. She leaned into his hands, enjoying the way he palmed her tits.
“Sit up,” he ordered, “and I’ll cum in you.”
“Sure,” she agreed and leaned back, barely balancing herself.
Glenn dropped his hands down to her hips and held her in place while he literally bounced his ass off the bed while fucking her. She immediately came to life, using one hand to brace herself against his forearm while gripping one breast with her other. Her eyes went wide and she looked down at him. Glenn’s face was a mask of concentration and determination.
It only took a minute. He came in her. She could feel the pulse of his cock, the squirt of his cum, the oversaturation inside her body, hear his deep grunt, and then her own body was giving in to her base desires. She liked her base desires. She came again. She came again hard, crying out for she didn’t know what but loving it anyway.
This time she did collapse on his chest. His hands held her tightly until one wandered down to grip her ass. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed by how small it was.
“Give me ten minutes and we can go again,” he said.
She chuckled. “Sure. Ten minutes.”
Chapter 4
The light coming in at an extreme angle through the bedroom windows woke up Chelsea. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her bed…and it wasn’t the weekend.
“Shit!” She sat bolt upright and looked around. The room was the same as she remembered it, except it was brighter now. She was naked as was Glenn. She didn’t remember falling asleep, which only made sense. How much had she had to drink last night?
It wasn’t that much.
It wasn’t the alcohol. It was the sex.
Glenn was groggily coming awake.
“What time is it?” she asked him, hurriedly getting out of the bed to start gathering up her clothes.
He groaned in annoyance at her rapid activity. Somehow he found his phone on the stand next to the bed. “Uh…it’s not even seven yet.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit! I’m going to be late for work!” There was no way she was going to make it to work on time. The clothes she had with her weren’t work appropriate. His place wasn’t all that far from hers. Maybe he’d give her a ride home and then to work?
“Call in sick,” he told her. “Come back to bed. We have unfinished business.” He rolled to his side and looked at her, the sheet coming down his body to just above his crotch. She couldn’t see his cock, but at the moment she was too distracted by her job crisis to think about sex.
Rushing, she pulled on her underwear and turned her camisole right side out. “I can’t. I need the money. I don’t get paid if I don’t show up. No sick time.”
“That’s disgusting,” he said. “What sort of shitty place do you work for?” He was fully awake now and sitting up, watching her.
“I’m a preschool teacher,” she said as she pulled on her skirt and looked at the stockings. They were ruined. She tossed them on the floor.
Glenn’s eyes went wide. “Who knew teachers were so much fun in bed?”
“I make nap time fun,” she sneered at him and pulled her blouse into place. “Now you need to give me a ride home and then take me to my job.” She made it seem like a mandatory thing like she did with the kids.
“When are you supposed to be at work?” he asked, not moving.
“Six thirty. That’s when the parents start dropping off.”
“You’re already late,” he pointed out, unhelpfully.
“I know!”
“Call in sick.”
“I’m not sick!”
“They don’t know that.”
“I won’t get paid!”
“I’ll pay you for the day,” he generously offered.
She stopped short. “I’m not a whore,” she told him and left the room to find her purse and cell phone.
He followed her out. “I never said you were. I’ll be paying you for your time.” Chelsea picked her purse up from the table where she had left it and pulled out her phone. There were a dozen text messages from work plus several missed calls. She groaned and then looked at Glenn.
He hadn’t bothered to put on any clothing. He looked even better in the morning, even with his rumpled hair and soft cock. He was more cute than sexy, but he was fucking tempting. She paused.
“I have to call work,” she said. Her mouth was dry but she could feel her pussy getting wet.
“Go ahead and call. I’ll wait.”
Chelsea had no idea what she was going to say when she called the office number.
Alice, the school’s purported principal answered. Chelsea despised Alice. Alice ran the school like a prison, hated children, and hadn’t been inside a preschool classroom in years, if ever.
“Where the hell are you, Miss Chelsea?” Alice demanded, not even saying hello first. Sometimes Chelsea hated caller ID.
She also hated that Alice referred to all the employees as Miss Firstname. Always.
“In bed,” she lied, almost automatically. “I woke up this morning because I had to throw up. I can’t come into work today.”
“You’d better be here within the hour or you won’t have a job any longer! I need you here now!”
Chelsea’s heart started to pound in her chest. She needed her job. There was no way she could survive on her own without it. She wasn’t going back home to live with her mother and father. That wasn’t going to happen.
“I can’t come in,” she all but whined, sounding too much like one of her young students. “I’m sick. I’ll get all the kiddos sick!”
“Kids get sick all the time. No one will notice. I need you here now. Are you coming in or not?”
Chelsea did not know how to answer the simple question. She realized, almost by habit, she had been talking on speakerphone.
From the edge of her vision, she saw Glenn shaking his head. He mouthed some words to her. I’ll pay you for your time.
“I can’t, Alice,” she blurted out. “I’m going to barf again.” She quickly ended the call.
“I’m so fucked,” she said. “I needed that job. They’re so short-handed there.”
“If they’re so short-handed, why would they fire you?” he asked.
She didn’t have an answer to that.
“I’m going to need a job,” she said flatly. She wondered if she had been fired. Could she just show up tomorrow and hope for the best?
“Well, I’ll pay you for your time today,” he told her.
“Gee. Thanks.” Chelsea fell into the couch and stared straight out the window, not seeing the view of the park.
“What's your salary there?” he asked.
“Salary? I make $15 an hour.”
Glenn’s eyes bugged out. “So you’ll make a hundred and twenty today?”
“Is that for seven and a half hours? I don’t get paid for lunch.”
“Eight. So you’ll make one twelve fifty?”
“Minus taxes and benefits.”
He disappeared for a minute and returned with two one hundred dollar bills in his hand which he placed on top of her purse. “For your time today. Want to get breakfast? I’ll order something. We can shower. We can have sex.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I’m not a sex worker.”
“Never said you were. Sex work is a noble calling, though. But I’m not paying you for sex. I’m paying you for your time today.”
She started laughing. “Maybe I should start being a sex worker. It pays better than wiping the noses of four year olds.”
“You don’t need to do that for me, but I wouldn’t mind a blowjob.”
Chelsea wasn’t able to stop giggling. “Sure. Why the hell not? Might as well make the move from preschool teacher to prostitute.”
“Personal escort,” he corrected her. “Why don’t you take off your clothes so I can play with your tits?”
She shook her head at him. “You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack. Or cancer. Or a stroke. My apologies if you’ve had a family member suffer any of those.”
Instead of disrobing, Chelsea went up to him and kissed him. He happily accepted the kiss but started tugging on her shirt after a moment.
“Oh. You were serious,” she said in mild surprise.
“Of course I was.”
“How about a blowjob first?” she offered and went down on her knees again. She was getting used to the softness of the living room rug. He wasn’t hard when she put him in her mouth this time, but his body started responding almost right away.
“Umm…yeah. That’s nice. But you don’t have to do that,” he said when he was erect.
“I think you like it,” she said, pumping her fist on him.
“I do, but I want your tits out.”
“My tiny little tits?”
“They don’t have to be huge to be desirable.”
She laughed and shook her head while pulling her blouse and camisole over her head. “I haven’t played hooky from work or school…I don’t think ever.”
“Then be sure to enjoy today.”
“I will,” she said as she started to blow him again. He wouldn’t let her. Glenn instead pulled her to her feet.
“Back to bed,” he insisted. “I’m going to suck on those little nipples of yours all day.”
She undressed as they went back to his bed. Chelsea was certain she had never been this…slutty before. She had her moments sure, but she hadn’t moved the two hundred dollars from off her purse and she was fully intending on fucking him again.
Once more he wanted her on top. Chelsea didn’t object and his cock easily slipped into her wet pussy. It was fun and exciting to be slutty. Sex this morning was slower and he took his time to admire her body as she moved atop him.
“You have lovely tits.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I play with them?”
“I don’t see how I’m going to stop yo—” The words were barely out of her mouth when he was half sitting up and sucking on one of her nipples. It was nice to feel that as his cock was still in her. He pinched the other and she hung onto his shoulders as she ground her hips on his cock. It didn’t take much effort for her to cum, stimulated like that.
“I love how your pussy heats up when you cum,” he complimented her.
“Fuck that felt good. Are you going to cum in me?”
“Not yet.” He flopped back down as she continued to ride him. “Do you know what a TENS is?”
“I teach my students how to count to ten,” she said, not stopping. She wanted to cum again.
He pinched her nipples to focus her. “Ouch!” She swatted at his hands. “What was that for?” And yet she didn’t stop bouncing on his cock.
“Do you know what a TENS is?”
“No.”
“Is a special little device that uses electricity to relieve pain.”
Chelsea wasn’t stupid. Even in the middle of sex she could put two and two together. She finally stopped moving.
“You want to use it on me, don’t you?”
“Yes. Specifically on your tits.”
Her hands went to her breasts, pushing his aside. “No.”
“I’ll pay you to do it.”
“Ha ha. No. I’m not a sex worker.”
“Why not give it a try and see if you like it?”
She shook her head. “How did this get so weird so fast?” she asked herself.
“You might like it,” he encouraged her, his hands now on her hips so that he could lift himself up into her. She was distracted by his cock. She was growing to like his cock. Really like his cock.
“It sounds painful and scary,” she said. “I just want to make you cum.”
“How about I make you cum,” he replied and pulled her forward onto him. She braced herself over his body and he looked down at him. Even essentially on her hands and knees she still had almost nothing in the way of tits.
“Stop staring at me,” she begged as he continued to fuck her.
“No. You’ve got lovely tits. I want to suck and play with them.”
She wanted to argue, but instead she was fully distracted by the way his cock was filling her. For a moment Chelsea struggled and then just gave up. There was no way to fight her body and she came again.
It felt good to cum.
“Cum in me, please,” she begged him.
“Not until you let me use the TENS on you,” he whispered in her ear. He kept thrusting his cock into her pussy until she relented.
“Okay,” she almost sobbed. “But the moment it starts to hurt, we’re done.”
In the back of her mind she thought about the money he had promised.
Showing great control, Glenn pushed her off him, wetly withdrawing his cock. She rolled to her back on the large bed while he went to a door and opened it, revealing a closet. It only took him a few seconds for him to find what he wanted and return. What he had looked like a small medical device that had the pads one would see in monitoring heartbeats.
“These pads go on either side of your tits. If you like this…I have some more ideas for fun. Stay on your back.”
She watched as he plugged the device into an outlet and stuck the pads on her chest. All the while his erection didn’t droop at all.
Was this really worth the money?
“Ready?” he asked.
She wanted to say no, but instead she just nodded once.
He tapped a button on the display screen.
It felt like her tits were on fire, were being attacked by a thousand biting ants, and were being thrilled by a thousand pinpricks. She gasped at the sensation.