I helped the bouncer, Reggie, wrestle two drunken sailors into a taxi in front of Club Risqué. I was the strip joint’s bartender. After handing the driver a Benjamin, I instructed him to drop the sailors off at the 32nd Street Naval Station . The manager, Lorenzo, locked the club’s doors and after wishing me a Merry Christmas, he headed to his car followed by the bouncer. It was just after midnight, the Mission bells in Old Town were tolling, announcing that Christmas had arrived in San Diego.
Heading to my pick-up truck, I noticed a lone car parked in the well-lit spaces reserved for the strippers. Curious, I limped over to investigate. An Improvised Explosive Device (IED) had shattered my right leg during my last combat tour in Iraqi. Surmising the car wouldn’t start, I tapped on the driver’s window.
Startled, the woman jumped and slung the contents of a pill bottle across the auto’s interior. She wiped her hand across her mouth, brushing off a couple of pills clinging to her moist lips. Hastily, she pushed the button on the door to lower the window, but since the car wasn’t running it didn’t work.
I opened the door. The stripper looked at me, with a zombie’s face, mascara had mixed with her tears and ran down her cheeks. I recognized her and asked, “You okay, Lacey?”
“No Gunny, it’s not. I’m all used up.” She emitted a heartbroken sob and dropped her head onto the steering wheel. Her body shook with anguish as she wept.
I didn’t know what to do with a crying female. Patting her back, I said, “It’ll be okay.”
“No it won’t. Nobody cares about me,” she sniveled.
I picked up the pill bottle. It took a moment for my eye to focus, I had lost my right eye to the same IED that had crippled me. The pills were an over-the-counter sleep aid. I frowned, unsure of how many she had swallowed, I demanded, “How many of these did you take?”
She lifted her head, blinking and said, “What? Oh…none. When you tapped on the window, it scared the shit out of me. I slung them all over the fucking place.”
“Maybe, I should take you to the hospital to get checked out.”
Lacey frantically shook her head. She pleaded, “Please don’t Gunny. They’ll just put me in the psych ward. I don’t want spend Christmas there.”
“Then why don’t you come home with me? I ain’t got nobody either.”
Pausing for a moment, she handed me a full bottle of whiskey and said, “Okay.”
The seal hadn’t been broken on the bottle, which gave me cause to believe she hadn’t swallowed many pills, if any, because she hadn’t been able to wash them down with the whiskey. Grabbing her large tote bag, she allowed me to help her up out of the car. She clung to my arm like it was a lifeline as we walked across the parking lot.
I unlocked my truck and opened the passenger door for her. Noticing how her ass filled out her tight yoga pants, I chided myself for ogling her body while she was under duress. I got in and drove towards the bay.
Lacey looked out the window with what we called the “1,000-meter stare” in the Corps.
“Is there someone I can call for you?” I asked.
Her eyes flared like green lasers as she seethed, “I told you, nobody cares about me.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t even know me. You feel sorry for me, there’s a difference.”
I shrugged and she returned to staring out the window.
It was difficult to comprehend that this whimpering woman was the same redhead that had so saucily strutted her stuff on stage just a few hours ago. Tonight's crowd had been small, as you would expect on Christmas Eve, a dozen patrons in various stages of drunkenness. On stage Lacey gyrated her way out of a sexy “Santa’s Helper” outfit. She sauntered about the stage in just a white lace bra, matching white lace panties and a white garter belt holding up white stockings. A sour sneer creased her lips as she moved her body in time to the music.
She twirled around the pole, center stage, then pranced to the far side of the stage. Her panties had invaded her sexy ass crack as her buttocks wiggled to the music. As she danced her way across the stage, my eyes feasted on her panty-clad snatch noting that her labia were clutching the frilly material creating a spellbinding camel-toe.
My cock stirred in my trousers, Lacey was one of the few strippers that could still give me a hard-on. After working behind the bar at Club Risqué, I had developed immunity to the eroticism of most strippers.
Lacey’s big breasts jiggled in her bra eagerly like racehorses ready at the starting gate.. She unhooked her bra and dropped it. Her nipples arose rigidly from the center of her pinkish brown areolas. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile then tugged at her nipples. She acknowledged someone’s wolf-whistle with a nod.
Turning her back to the audience and gripped the pole. Glancing over her shoulder, she shook her ass with a "wouldn't you just like to fuck me" smirk on her face. Slowly, she peeled her panties down her legs, revealing her pretty pink pucker and bald beaver. Turning to the crowd, such as it was, she leaned her back to the pole. Her pussy was perfectly framed between her garter belt and stockings. She slid down into a squat and briefly opened her legs giving the onlookers a gander at her gorgeous gash.
“Stop! Gunny, Stop!” shouted Lacey her voice thick with fear.
Lost in my reverie, I hadn’t noticed that a traffic light had turned red. I stomped on the brake and slid to a stop, half way into the intersection. An oncoming car veered to avoid side-swiping us. Checking for other oncoming vehicles, I hit the accelerator and quickly cleared the intersection.
Shooting Lacey a guilty grin, I offered, “Sorry about that.”
“How can they let a one-eyed, pirate-looking, motherfucker like you drive?” she asked with total hostilely.
Self-consciously, I patted the eye-patch which not only covered my right eye, but much of the right side of my face, another souvenir from my last tour in Iraqi. My throat burned with emotion as I choked, “Fuck you, bitch.”
Somewhat castigated, her voice lost its edge and she apologized, “I’m sorry, Gunny. I was being a spiteful bitch. I’m sorry.”
Just so you know, outside of 20 feet, everybody sees the world as if they only had only one-eye. Which means my driving’s pretty much unchanged for when I two eyes.” Pointing to the front fender, I added, “I just had to another mirror to the right side of my truck to compensate for my blind side. And, within 20 feet I don’t have any depth perception, so I have to be careful in parking lots.”
“So you were shitty driver before you lost your eye?”
I laughed at her quip and pulled into the RV Park where I lived in a 30-foot travel trailer. I put my truck in park and said, “Home, sweet home.”
“You’re shitting me,” responded Lacey unimpressed.
Shrugging, I opened my door and got out, grabbing the whiskey bottle as I went. “Then sit here and feel sorry for yourself.”
I opened the door to my camper and my pit bull, Matador, bounded out with a gnarly bark. A wicked smile fractured my face as I watched him lift his leg and piss on my neighbor’s ugly yard gnome. I heard the truck door slam behind me.
“Your neighbor must love you,” she sarcastically said nodding at Matador, before stepping into my abode.
Cynically I replied, “Everybody does.”
Matador joined us in the camper and sat at Lacey’s feet whining for attention. When she patted his head, his gravelly growl communicated his approval.
“What kind of sick fuck cuts off a dog’s ears?” asked Lacey livid.
I stammered, “I didn’t. You know Camila?”
“Don’t tell a Mexican stripper did this,” snapped Lacey.
“Nah, she didn’t. Matador was a gladiator in the Tijuana dog fighting rings. He lost his last match, the other dog just about ripped his throat apart, that’s why his bark is so funky. The owner of the winning dog cut off Matador’s ears as some sort of trophy.”
“So how did you end up with him?”
“About a year ago, Camila’s brother brought him to the club all beat-up and bloody. He wanted her to give him money to pay a veterinarian, but she wouldn’t waste her money on a dog, she thought was already dead. He got pissed and dumped Matador at the club entrance. So I took him to the vet’s, it took a couple of blood transfusions and bunch of stitches, but he survived. Been with me ever since.”
The anger in her eyes faded to sadness as she said, ““Sorry, I guess I’ve been a stripper too long. It’s made me skeptical of my fellow man.”
“Kind of lost my faith in human nature too,” I said looking into Lacey’s sorrowful face. I scratched Matador’s head, he compulsively kicked his back leg and whined appreciation.
“Can I use your shower? I want to wash the filth of Club Risqué off of me.”
I showed her the trailer’s tiny bathroom and hung a clean towel on the door hook for her. While Lacey showered, I made us both hot toddies. Heating up a kettle of water, I coated the bottom of two mugs with honey. I cut a lemon into equal halves and squeezed the juice out of each into the mugs, followed by two fingers of whiskey. Then I added the hot water and repeatedly dipped a teabag into each mug until the tea was thoroughly steeped.
Lacey came out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel. It barely covered her ass and I got a glimpse of her pale butt cheeks when she moved around. She wrapped her long red hair in another towel.
I handed her a mug and she took a seat at the kitchen booth. I sat across from her and raising my mug I toasted, “Merry Christmas.”
“Cheers,” she returned. Taking a sip, she added, “This really is really good, barkeep.”
“Thanks,” I said, pleased.
This was the first time I had seen Lacey without make-up. She looked older without it and harder without the soft lights of the club. Her face was marred by the irregular angle of her nose. It had been broken sometime in the recent past. Her soulful eyes were sea-green. She noticed my gaze and her eyes turned into cold stones of jade. Redirecting my attention, she asked, “Why do they call you Gunny?”
“Seventeen years in the Marine Corps,” I said pointing to the Eagle, Globe and Anchor tattoo on my bicep. I added, “It was my rank when I retired.”
“Did you fight in a war? Is that why you limp? Is that how you lost your eye?”
“Yeah,” I replied. My expression flashed a gentle, but firm warning. I took a sip of toddy ending any further discussion of my combat experiences.
Lacey shrugged. She too sipped from her mug then sighed, saying, “My feet hurt, working a double shift in stilettos kills your feet.”
“I just bet it does,” I chuckled. “I don’t know how you girls can even walk in those things. Pop your foot up here, I’ll rub it for you.”
Lacey studied my face for a moment with a glint of humor. Sighing, she said, “I wondered how long it would take for you to make your move. You got a foot fetish?”
“No, I don’t have a fetish. I know about foot pain though, I was in the infantry. A mama-san in Okinawa showed me a how to literally rub the pain away.”
Her expression was wary, but she placed her foot in my lap saying, “Okay, but don't do anything kinky.”
I squeezed her foot with both hands near her toes and worked my way down to her heel and then back up to the toes again.
Lacey moaned mirthfully then murmured, “Oh that feels good.”
Smiling at her, I twisted her foot in opposite directions starting at her heel and working up to her toes. With her foot warmed up, I used my thumbs to deeply knead the bottom of it.
Lacey moaned and dropped her head onto her folded arms resting on the table top. With surprise resonating in her voice, she said, “You do know what you’re doing.”
“Told you,” I smirked.
Turning my attention to her toes, I found the joints where the toes bend and applied pressure while rotating her toes. After giving each toe consideration, I ran four fingers into the four interspaces between her toes and gentled stroked back and forth. Finished, I looked up from Lacey’s foot to ask for the other one and found her asleep.
Gently, I lowered her foot. I chuckled as Lacey noisily snored through her crooked nose. Somehow, I was able to scoot her across the booth without waking her. I picked her up and hissed at Matador to get off the couch.
With a grumbling growl, he jumped down and went under the table. I chuckled, “Don’t be a grouch, it’s Christmas, you can share your bed.”
I lay Lacey still wrapped in the towel on the sofa and covered her with a blanket. I studied her sleeping form, she was a beautiful woman built for pleasure, but life had left her as jaded as the color of her eyes. I turned off the light and went to my bedroom in the rear of the camper. I crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Sometime in the night, I was awoken by Lacey getting into bed me. Quietly, she said, “I woke up alone. You told me I wouldn’t have to be alone.”
I rolled on my back and she snuggled her nude body up to me. Caressing my chest, she trailed her hand down my torso to find my cock. I said, “Lacey you don’t have to…”
She shushed me with a fiery kiss and slowly stroked my manhood to full hardness. Soon she had my nectar seeping from it. Giggling, she smeared my dribble around my cockhead. Teasingly, she jerked my cock with earnest endeavor.
Moaning my appreciation as she quickened her stroking, I thrust my cock into her fist. My cock pulsated with intensity, my climax was impending. Suddenly, she dropped my cock and I groaned a dissent.
Lacey threw the covers off of me. Swinging her leg over me, she straddled me as I knead her big breasts. With a gratified grunt, she slowly fed my cock into her ravenous cunt. Moaning as my cock disappeared into her soppy snatch, she impaled herself on it. Accommodating my girth, she whimpered, “Your cock feels so good inside me.”
As the moist heat of her cunt enveloped me, I purred, "Lacey your pussy feels so good."
Sitting up, she smacked my chest with the flat of her hand and scolded through clenched teeth, “Don’t call me Lacey.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Lacey is my stage name. My real name is Leslie Jean, call me Leslie Jean.”
“Okay, Leslie Jean, I’m so happy to meet you and I really like what you’re doing to me,” I said happy that coitus would continue.
Leaning down, she kissed me deeply, entwining our tongues. Breaking our kiss, she sat back up. She squeezed my cock with her cunt muscles like it was velvety vice. She knew how to pleasure a man. While my hands manipulated her breasts, she slowly rose up on cock until just the head was inside her before gliding back down it. After establishing a steady pace, she began to diddle her clit. Moving my hands down to her hips, I watched as her big breasts bounced in cadence. Approaching orgasm, she quickened her pace. She whined, “Ooooooh.”
I shifted my hands to her buttocks and with a cheek in each hand, I assisted her as pitched up and down on my cock. With sudden lustful inspiration, I shoved a finger up her ass.
Leslie yelped at the unexpected intrusion. Her cunt tightened around my cock. She threw back her head and howled as the waves of pleasure surged through her.
Hissing, I joined her in orgasm. Spurts of cum burst from my cock into her sweet pussy.
She collapsed on top of me and caught her breath. Rolling off of me she said, “That was incredible, Gunny.”
“Yes, it was, Leslie Jean,” I affirmed hugging her close. I drifted into a sated sleep spooning with her.
A few hours later Matador’s howling woke me. My bed was empty. Had it just been a wistful dream of copulation with a beautiful stripper? I wasn’t sure, but I did know, for the first in a long time, I hadn’t refought the Iraq war.
Matador yowled again.
I slung the bedroom door open, only to have it slam back and smack me in the face. Stunned by the blow, I stumbled through the doorway still naked.
Leslie Jean was at the stove frying sausage dressed in an old gray sweatshirt of mine. Even though it was big enough to be a dress on her, I thought it never looked that good on me. She sang “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs, bumping and grinding her hips. When she hit a certain off-key note Matador joined in caterwauling.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Startled, Leslie Jean stopped in mid-screech then broke into a smile. “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too, you naked grump. Obviously, Matador and I were singing Christmas Carols while I fix breakfast.”
“I hope you cook better than you sing.”
She had some uncooked biscuits sitting on cookie pan, ready for the oven. Picking one up, she threw it at me and sniggered, “I cook better than I fuck.”
The dough hit my missing eye. I touched my face and realized I hadn’t put on my eye patched. Covering the scarred side of my face with my hand, I cried out, “Don’t look at me.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Leslie Jean hurrying to my side.
Turning to retreat, I barked, “Don’t look at me.”
“Gunny, wait,” demanded Leslie Jean grabbing my arm and turning me back around.
I kept the disfigured part of my face covered. With pained emotion I choked, “I don’t want you to see me like this, please, don’t look at me.”
“Shhhh,” she shushed. Gently, she pried my fingers from my face. Tenderly, her fingers traced the mangled flesh and puckered scars that lined the side of my face. Compassionately, she caressed my cheek. Empathetically, she cooed, “Your poor face.”
“Please don’t,” I whimpered.
Leslie Jean glanced down at my battered right leg. It was more scarred than my face. She inspected it for a long moment then said, “How can you even stand on that leg?”
“Standing isn’t a problem, walking is another matter,” I replied with a practiced bogus cavalier attitude.
“They really fucked you up. Didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” I choked.
She kissed my shattered eye socket, then my scarred cheek and then my lips. She peeled the sweatshirt off, letting it fall to the floor. Taking my hands, she placed them on her bare breasts and said, “Your hands aren’t gentle, but they touched me last night with more tenderness than I ever known.”
I squeezed her breasts and my mouth moved over hers, devouring its softness. I forced her lips to part and thrust my tongue into her mouth. As my passion grew stronger, I roused hers.
She surrendered to the forceful domination of my lips. The kiss grew more passionate. Suddenly, she pushed against my chest breaking our kiss, leaving my mouth burning with fire. Her eyes were wide with wonder and she seemed shocked at her own eager response and sexual need.
Using my hard cock like a joystick, she maneuvered me to the sofa. Lying on her back, she glowed with passion. Her eyes rested on my engorged cock. She smiled at me as s he spread her legs invitingly wide. With a sensuous tone she said, "I want to look in face when you cum in my pussy."
I pushed my cock into her pussy to the hilt with a single excited thrust. The wet walls of her cunt clutched my cock, it felt so good I thought I might pass out. I curled my toes to keep from cumming. At a snail’s pace I withdrew my cock up the velveteen length of her pussy. When the head of my cock practically fell out of her entrance, I slid it back in balls deep.
"Gunny...you're so...hard...feels so...good,” Leslie Jean stuttered her pleasure.
I continued the slow teasing tempo until I knew I couldn't last much longer. Then I pushed myself up on my hands and pummeled her pussy with unrestrained relish. The new position changed the angle that my pubic bone pressed against Leslie Jean's clitoris.
Her pussy convulsed wetly around my cock in climax. Closing her eyes, she wailed in orgasmic release, "Ooh! Cumming!"
Burying my cock into her pussy, I felt Leslie Jean’s fingernails digging into my butt as she tried to pull me deeper into her. My bloated balls blasted their load into her pussy as she looked adoringly into my face. I groaned with pleasure.
Feeling the jets of cum coating her cunt, Leslie Jean cried out, "Fill my pussy, Gunny! Fill me with your cum."
After emptying myself into Leslie Jean’s pussy, I collapsed on top of her completely spent. I wept silent tears of emotional release that dampened her neck.
Cocooned beneath my weight, she tenderly held my head against her neck and cooed soothing words of comfort. Once I finished weeping, Leslie Jean bid me to take a shower while she finished making breakfast.
The hot water and steam felt good on my stiff joints and sore muscles. For the first time in a long time I felt a measure of joy and I burst into song, gleefully ruining Christmas Carols just like Leslie Jean and Matador.
My shower complete, I quickly shaved and even slapped on some aftershave. With my eye patch firmly in place, I sat at the table in front of a plate of biscuits and gravy. It had been a while since I had had a home cooked meal, I usually opened a can of soup and nuked it in the microwave. Chewing the gravy covered biscuit, I detected an unfamiliar taste.
Noticing my puzzled expression, Leslie Jean offered, “You didn’t have any milk so I used the cream of coconut you had in the fridge.”
“I’ve been practicing making piña coladas. Anyway, your biscuits and gravy are good, different, but good,” I said and then added with a grin, “You do cook better than you fuck and you fuck very well.”
She chuckled, “You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”
“Seriously, you’re a great cook. I can’t remember the last time I had homemade biscuits. I didn’t even know I had the ingredients to make them.”
“You didn’t. I improvised,” she said with good-natured smugness.
“Did your mom teach you?”
“Uh-huh, back in Arkansas,” she muttered. Her eyes tear-rimmed and took on that 1,000-meter stare again. Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “You’re mom still alive?”
“Yeah, her and my dad retired to Florida a couple of years ago. I saw them at Thanksgiving. I flew to my sister’s in Ohio. They did too, it was real nice.”
“Was your dad in the military? Is that why you joined?”
“Nah, he worked on an assembly line for thirty years. I joined the Marines because I didn’t want to work in a factory. My dad did teach me to shoot though, he and my brother-in-law wanted to take me deer hunting at Thanksgiving, but I didn’t go.”
Leslie Jean put down her coffee cup and said, “No kidding, traipsing all over the woods would have had hurt your bum leg.”
“Nah, it wasn’t that, I‘ve already done enough killing in my life.” Now it was my turn to change the subject, so I asked, “So how did you end up in California?”
“I wanted to be a marine biologist.”
“Really? How’d that happen in Arkansas?”
Her eyes twinkled as she recalled a happier past. “My daddy took me noodling when I was a kid.”
“You know fishing for catfish with your bare hands.”
“Yeah, catfish live in holes in the riverbank. So you dive in, find the hole and stick your hand in it. The catfish latches onto your hand and you pull him up.”
“Aren’t catfish a big fish?”
“Usually around forty pounds, but the sucker that give me this,” she pointed to a scar on her hand that ran from her wrist to the first joint on her thumb, “was a 75-pounder, damn near drown me.”
“Daddy had a hell of time dragging me out of the water, cause I wouldn’t let go of the fish.” Her face was painted with a proud grin.
“Or the fish wouldn’t let go of you,” I teased, grinning with her.
“Anyway, noodling got me interested in marine biology so I came out here for college.” Her smiled faded as darker memories entered her mind, but she continued, “My first year in college I fell in love with a jock and of course I ended up pregnant.”
She took a sip of orange juice to wash the bitterness from her mouth. “After my boyfriend found out I was knocked up, he left me. And, once Daddy found out I was carrying a black baby, he disowned me. I was 20-years old when the baby was born, I started stripping at Club Salacious soon after.”
A tear trickled down her cheek, “I got greedy and started freelance dancing on the side. My son was about three when I took a gig dancing at a bachelor party. I got fucked up on cocaine and woke the next morning without any panties and my pussy full of cum. I had pulled a train on a dozen guys. To add injury to insult, I ended up with a STD which led to PID and now I’m sterile. Since it had become a habit of mine to be out all night, the baby-sitter turned me into family services and I lost my son.”
She wiped away her tears and continued, “He’s better off, a lawyer and his wife adopted him. I got really strung out on cocaine and got fired. I went rehab, then started dancing at the Gas Lamp Burlesque, which paid really well and was fun. You had to come up with different costumes and routines. After I awhile, I couldn’t come up with anything new, so I started dancing at Gemma’s Gentleman’s Club. I was there for three years, then moved on to Club Risqué .”
“Gemma’s got a better class of clientele, why did you leave?”
Shrugging she replied, “Gemma put me on the day shift. You know the tips are better on the night shift.”
“Yeah, but a bad day at Gemma’s is better than a good night at Club Risqué.”
“I guess I still had pride back then. Now, I can’t afford it.”
Frowning, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“About a year ago on my 32nd birthday, Lorenzo moved me to the day shift. I went to his office to protest and he said he had younger and prettier girls for the night shift. The only way he would let me work the night shift was for me to suck his cock.”
Stunned by her revelation, I asked, “You didn’t, did you?”
“No, but I wish I had. I was pissed-off and slapped him and he punched me in the face, breaking my nose.” She wiggled her crooked beak.
“That lousy motherfucker,” I spouted off incensed.
Tears cascaded down her face, but she continued, “Of course both my eyes blacken, I couldn’t work for a month with all that swelling. I looked for another job, but I have no marketable skills. The rent came due, so I went crawling back to Lorenzo and sucked his cock. I still have to work the day shift and only after I suck his cock does he allow me to work nights. He likes to humiliate me by pulling out of my mouth and giving me a facial.”
“Why don’t you just quit?” I asked folding my arms across my chest.
“And do what? Work the donkey show in Tijuana?”
“No, but you ought to do something else.”
“Oh, I did, when my car broke down last summer, I didn’t have the money to fix it so I let Reggie pimp me out to a couple of his buddies. He called it making gash cash. He’s already arranged a New Year’s Eve gangbang for me.”
Rushing to judgment I pronounced, “You prostituted yourself.”
Tears streamed down her anguished face. “I should have known you wouldn’t understand. I’ll get a shower then I’ll call a cab.”
“I’m sorry,” I babbled and reached to comfort her, but she avoided my grasp. The bathroom door slammed and I winched. Matador looked at me like I was the stupidest fucker on the planet. I had to agree, ”Yeah, I know.”
Getting up from the table, I gimped back to the bedroom and found Leslie Jean’s purse. I searched her smartphone for a certain phone number. When I didn’t find it, I opened her wallet and found a couple of items that helped my search. I called Information in Arkansas. After a few wrong numbers, I made contact with Leslie Jean’s brother.
From him, I learned Leslie Jean’s father and mother were celebrating Christmas with him. I heard the shower stop and asked him to hang on while I got Leslie Jean. I knocked on the bathroom door.
“Leslie Jean, let me in,” I called out, pounding on the door with my fist.
“Go fuck yourself, cause you’re never going to get to fuck me again.”
I slung my weight against the door, busting the lock and bursting it open.
Leslie Jean shrieked and threw a towel at me.
The wet towel popped me in the face. Frustrated, I cried out, “Leslie Jean, don’t be like this….”
“Don’t you dare call me, Leslie Jean only my friends can call me Leslie Jean. You only get to call me Lacey. Lacey, the whore stripper.”
“Damn it, your brother’s on the phone,” I said handing her my cellphone.
Blinking in disbelief, she fumbled the phone then stuck it to her ear. With a trembling voice, she said, “Hello.”
I exited the bathroom and limped back to the kitchen to clean up. I heard Leslie Jean, go into the bedroom. When I finished with the kitchen, I took Matador for a walk to the bay.
Watching a couple of sailboats glide gracefully through the water, I contemplated Leslie Jean’s revelations. I returned to the trailer not knowing what to expect, Leslie Jean might even be gone.
I found her asleep on my bed wearing my gray sweatshirt again. The pillow was damp from her tears, she had cried herself to sleep. Putting a blanket over her, I brushed errant red hair from her face, in repose she looked angelic. My heart hurt for her. Life hadn’t been very kind to either of us and I felt she was a kindred spirit.
Leaving her to rest, I returned to the kitchen to prepare supper. I had a bought a couple of steaks for Christmas dinner, one for me and the other for Matador. I was sure he wouldn’t mind if Leslie Jean got his steak. I grilled the steaks and nuked a couple of potatoes. I heard Leslie Jean stirring in the bedroom and shouted, “Supper’s almost ready.”
“Great,” she responded through the door.
After placing the plates of steaming food on the table, I retrieved a couple of pale ales from the fridge. When Leslie Jean made her appearance, I dropped one of the beers. It rolled across the floor, spilling its contents.
Leslie Jean was wearing an ultra-sexy black teddy. It featured a G-string back and the front strap wasn’t much thicker, barely capturing her thick labia. The sheer fabric followed every seductive curve and was thin enough to reveal her beautiful bald pussy. She stepped over Matador, who was busily lapping up the spilt liquid, wearing stripper shoes with six-inch heels. She kissed my cheek and said, “I’m famished.”
“Yeah,” I croaked an octave higher than normal, “me too.”
“Let’s eat,” she said, sitting down at the booth. She picked up her knife and fork. Her big breasts swayed beneath the translucent material as she cut her meat captivating my attention. She teasingly licked the piece she had speared on her fork. Then putting it into her mouth, she pushed it against her cheek puffing it out like a cock would. After she swallowed, she seductively said, “That’s just how I like my meat, sweet and succulent.”
Fighting the urge to cum, I bit my lip then asked, “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m hoping your cock does,” she teased, stroking her beer bottle like a cock.
Dropping my fork, I snatched her hand and kept it in mine. I said, “Seriously, what’s going on with you.”
“You gave me the nicest Christmas present ever. I haven’t called home in 13 years. I’ve been too ashamed. I even talked to my Daddy, he asked me to forgive him. Can you believe it? He even wants me come home. I know all the trouble you went through for me. I just wanted to show you my appreciation.”
“It wasn't any trouble and I know you appreciate it. You don’t have to fuck me to show it.”
She cast her eyes down at her plate and in a hushed tone asked, “Is the reason you don’t want to have sex with me is because of what I told you?”
“Oh, I want to have sex with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to have sex with me because I did something nice for you.”
Smiling, she picked up her fork and starting eating. She looked down at Matador, after he whined, and asked, “What’s the matter boy?”
“You’re eating his steak,” I chuckled. “I bought it for him. I wasn’t expecting company.”
She cut her steak into bite-size pieces. Then she got up and walked over to Matador’s dish and scraped half the pieces into it. She patted his head and said, “Thanks for sharing your steak with me.”
I watched her bare buttocks wiggle in the G-string teddy as she walked from the table. When she bent over to scrape her plate, the view got even better. My cock hardened with surging blood.
Leslie Jean smiled as she caught my lustful gaze. She daintily sat down making sure I got nice look at her ass at it came to rest on the seat. Picking him her fork up, she winked at me and asked, “Where were we? Oh yeah, you requested polite dinner conversation instead of lewd sexual innuendo. So why are you tending bar in dump like Club Risqué?”
“I think I prefer sexual innuendo now,” I sighed then added, “My medical retirement provides enough for to live comfortably, but I needed to do something. I thought since I’ve been to so many exotic bars around the world, I could be a bartender. So I got my bartender’s certificate. Club Risqué was the only place that would hire me. Lorenzo said the customers wouldn’t notice my disfigurement since they were there to look at tits and ass of the strippers anyway.”
Leslie Jean took my hand and kissed it. With emotion, she whispered, “You’re not ugly to me, Gunny. You’re the most beautiful human being I know.”
With my hand still in hers, she stood up and led me to the bedroom. She closed the door and undid the halter of her teddy and let it fall to her waist revealing her big breasts. Hooking her thumps into the material around her waist she pushed it down her legs and stepped out of it. She kicked off her shoes and said, “No
slutty stripper seduction, you deserve better. Just me, if you want me. I hope you want me because I so want you.”
I pulled into her my arms and smothered her lips with unrestrained intensity. My hand found her breast and I tenderly caressed it before gently pinching her nipples. I trailed my hand down her torso until my middle finger sank deep into her simmering snatch. Pushing my palm against her clit caused her to gasp. I said, "You're so wet."
“I told you, I wanted you,” she replied then brought my face to hers in a fiery kiss. Suddenly, we were totally lost in the intensity of the intimacy and bonded in the moment. With building passion we worked ourselves into frenzy.
I sawed my finger in and out of her pussy with unbridled excitement. I pressed my thumb all around her clit without touching it. The skin on her neck glowed crimson as the pleasurable pressure built. With animal-like lust, her groans grew into a growl.
"Would you like to cum?" I whispered.
Wild-eyed and huffing, she nodded. Her body went rigid as I pushed my thumb against her agitated clit. She gritted her teeth as her body shook then howled in orgasmic release. Her pussy contracted around my digit. Surrendering to the pleasure of her climax, she buried her face wailing into my shoulder. It grew wet from her tears.
When she grew still, I asked, "Are you alright?"
She looked up at me glazed-eyed, unable to answer. After a long moment she recovered and smiled at me. She said, “No one has ever cared about my pleasure before. I’m just crying tears of joy.”
I wrapped my arms around her and she clung to me. I never felt so connected to another human being. At last, reluctantly, she pushed her hand against my chest parting us.
“Let me undress you. I want to pleasure you,” she murmured. Then she unbuttoned my shirt kissing my chest as she undid each button. She slid my shirt off me and it fell to the floor. Next she undid my trousers and after she pushed them down my legs, I stepped out of them
I stood naked before her, my cock stood at rigid attention between my legs.
She tugged on it demurely then dropped to her knees.
“No, Leslie Jean, you don’t have to suck my cock.”
She looked up at with raised eyebrows. Then with realization she said, “I’m not going to let Lorenzo rob me of the joy of giving you oral pleasure. I want to suck cock. Just enjoy it.”
Sweetly, she kissed my cockhead then licked the pre-cum drooling from it. Her eyes shifted to mine as her hand steadied my prick. Then she lovingly siphoned my bulbous head into her mouth. She never took her emerald eyes off mine.
Gasping for breath, I groaned,"Ohhhhhh."
Her eyes glimmered with naughtiness as she licked the underside of my shaft. Her hand shifted to my bloated balls and she gently squeezed them. Then she engulfed both of my testicles into her mouth and sucked hard on them. She spat out my balls and licked down their seam before licking up the length of my shaft to my cockhead. Grabbing my cock again she darted her tongue into my piss slit. Now she had me standing on my tip toes.
Most of my cock disappeared into her mouth and her cheeks hollowed as she suckled. Suddenly, she gulped down my entire length. With my cock deep in her throat, her tongue was immobilized so she was unable to suck. But, I was extremely stimulated by the tightness of her throat. Since she couldn't suck she swallowed, an action that shuddered along the entire length of my cock.
Cum exploded from my cock and splattered against her tonsils. Lightheaded from the pleasure, I hissed like a steam engine with each spurt of my lust.
After she swallowed every drop of my cum, she took my cock out her mouth and hoarsely asked, "Feel better, Lover."
Still dizzy from the pleasure, I silently nodded. I helped her up to her feet.
Leslie Jean sprawled on the bed. Pinching a nipple with one hand, she leisurely ran a finger from her other hand between the folds of her labia. She cooed, "I'm so wet, Lover. I want your cock so bad.”
I picked her leg up by the ankle and kissed it then her knee. Slowly, I worked my way up her succulent thigh to her splayed pussy. Its fragrance beckoned me to indulge. I let her excitement build as I lightly caressed my lips over her slit. When she bucked her hips upward, I finally put my lips right on her slit and kissed it gently then harder. As she moaned her pleasure, I broached her pussy with my tongue. Tentatively, my tongue fucked her with gentle little stabs.
She moaned her pleasure, tangling her fingers in my hair and dragging my face down into her pussy. Her clit wanted some attention and it stiffly peaked from its sheath. Bringing my tongue to the top of her slit, I located it then I licked it hard. She hooted, "Oh yeah!
Purposely, I slid two fingers as far as they would go into her saturated snatch. I teased her methodically until at last my fingers make contact with her G-spot.
"That's the place," she rasped squirming on my hand. Speeding my fingers in and out of her cunt with forceful exuberance, I repeatedly tapped her G-spot. She huffed, "Don't stop, don't stop."
I exposed her clit and forcefully flicked my tongue against it as she thrashed her legs against my head. Sensing her approaching orgasm, I pursed my lips and insistently sucked her clit. Somehow, I kept my mouth on her clit as she lifted her butt off the mattress and bucked her pelvis wildly. In fact, I even sucked harder on it.
"That...that's...that's it,” she stammered.
I softly bit her clit and savagely shoved my two of saturated fingers up her ass. The muscles of her anus contracted around my fingers as her orgasm rippled through her body.
"Cum, pussy cum,” she cried out with her body supinated in the crab posture. After her orgasm was spent s he collapsed on the bed panting. After a moment of silence she said, "No one has ever eaten my pussy like that?"
With adoration I kissed her thigh then crawled up between her legs. My cock was hard and seeking relief, she spread her legs wider to receive me.
She watched fascinated as the blunt head of my cock penetrated her pussy. She blinked as I steadily sank my full length into her balls deep. Her pussy muscles clutched my cock with a velvety embrace.
Overwhelmed by desire I frantically plunged my cock in and out of her hot box like a lunatic.
The confined bedroom echoed with the flesh-on-flesh smacks of our ardent passion as Leslie Jean eagerly bucked her pelvis up to meet my forceful thrusts. Enthusiastically, she encouraged, "That's it, Lover, pound my pussy."
She slipped a hand between our thrashing bodies and diddled her clit. Slowing my pace to suck her nipple, she slapped my ass and hissed, "Faster Lover, don't stop."
I pummeled her pussy like I was possessed. I felt her cunt contract around my cock as she wailed in ecstasy, another climatic wave crashed down on her. It was precious how the contorted contours of her face reflected the rapture of her orgasm. My balls tightened and I sank my cock fully into her snatch. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears along with Leslie Jean's howls. My orgasm exploded into her pussy and I shot spurts of cum deep into her belly.
Drained, I fell on the bed beside Leslie Jean and rested my head on her bosom. She kissed my forehead and asked, “Gunny, what’s your real name?”
She hugged me close and whispered, "I think I love you, Milo."
Squeezing her tight and overwhelmed by my own raw feelings, I simply said, "Thanks."
I awoke at noon the next day, once again I was alone. After throwing on some clothes, I found a note from Leslie Jean on the kitchen table.
It read: “Thanks for the best Christmas I’ve had in long time. But, now Christmas is over and it’s time to go back to reality. Sorry about all that love talk, I just got caught up in the moment. I’ll be working a double from here on out to get enough money to go back to Arkansas. I’m very sure I’ll have enough money after the New Year to leave San Diego.”
A flash burn of remorse pinked my flesh. Wadding up the note, I threw it across the room. I looked down at Matador and said, “Let’s go get our girl.”
He barked his agreement.
Minutes later, I was parking my truck near the entrance to Club Risqué. The parking lot was full. The day after Christmas was always a big day, a lot of men would rather spend the afternoon ogling the strippers rather than following their wives around the mall searching for after Christmas deals. The throbbing beat of the music coming from the club propelled me forward with Matador at my heel.
Nodding at the big black bouncer, I said, “Hey Reggie.”
“Hey Gunny, you’re way early for your shift. What’s with the ugly dog?”
Ignoring his question, I asked, “You seen Lacey?”
“That’s her music now, she’s just going on.”
I started into the door, but Reggie grabbed my arm saying, “You know you can’t take the dog in there.”
Matador growled his displeasure just inches from Reggie’s crotch and I watched as Reggie’s eyes widened with fear. He let go my arm and pressed his back flat against the wall.
“The dog’s not going into the club. He’s going to watch you and if you so, much as twitch, he’ll rip your balls off. I might let him do it anyway for what you’ve done to Lacey.”
He groaned and Matador growled, baring his teeth.
I went inside. It took a moment for me to adjust to the club’s dim lighting. The place was indeed packed. I spotted Lacey twirling around the stage pole wearing green panties, bra and matching garter belt with black fishnet stockings. My heart battered my breastbone with an uncertain beat.
Limping to the sound booth, I demanded that the DJ kill the music. My menacing expression was enough for him to immediately cut the sound.
Lacey shaded her eyes with her hands in the spotlight’s glare. She called, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you stripping anymore,” I hollered with resolve from the shadows.
Agitated she bit her lip, then asked, “Why not?”
The unfolding drama quieted the crowd and they waited expectantly.
Lorenzo suckered punched me from my blind side after sneaking up in the dark. Staggered by the blow, I fell onto an unoccupied table. Scrabbling to get my feet under me, I turned to defend against his next attack. A pained expression suddenly appeared on his face. He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch.
Lacey had kicked him between the legs as hard as she could from behind. She seethed, “How’s it feel to be blindsided, motherfucker?”
I drove my knee into Lorenzo’s face, his nose shattered in an explosion of blood and he collapsed to the floor unconscious. I scanned the shadows for any other attackers.
“Why don’t you want me stripping anymore, Milo?” asked Lacey standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. “I am a stripper after all and a pretty good one.”
A couple of wolf-whistles and cat-calls came from the crowd.
With heartfelt emotion, I said, “You ain’t the stripper. Lacey’s the stripper, who wiggles her ass for tips. Lacey allows her boss to degrade her. Lacey let’s herself get pimped out. You’re Leslie Jean, who kissed the pain away from an old veteran’s scars. You’re Leslie Jean who made homemade biscuits and gave half her steak to a mutilated dog. Leslie Jean is who I love.”
Leslie Jean leaped into my arms and smothered me with kisses. The crowd went wild, hooting and applauding their approval.
From the shadows Camilla emerged with Leslie Jean’s tote bag saying, “You guys better take off the cops are on the way.”
Leslie Jean reached into her bag and pulled out my gray sweatshirt from it. Noticing my expression she defended, “I wanted a souvenir of our Christmas together.”
I smiled and followed her out the door.
After pulling Matador away from Reggie, who had wet himself, we all exited the club and jumped into my truck. Leslie Jean sat next to me and rested her head on my shoulder. Putting the truck in gear, I pulled into traffic and left Club Risqué in the rearview mirror.
I drove to City Hall and parked the truck. I said, “We can be married within the hour.”
“You don’t want to marry me, Milo.”
“Yes I do. I love you and I want to marry you. When I decide to do something I do it. I decided to join the Marine Corps and I walked into the recruiter’s office and signed up.”
“And, you got blown up.”
“Seventeen years later. What can blow us up?”
“I’m in a sex video and it’s on the Internet.”
“Last summer when Reggie pimped me out, he recorded the action and put it on the Net. He said that was his fee for making the date for me. It’s called “Lacey Gets Blackened” and it’s me with two of his buddies. He gets $2.00 for every 1,000 hits. It doesn’t get many hits because Reggie used his phone to shoot the video, so he’s only gets about $20 a month. He was going to get a real video camera for the New Year’s Eve gangbang.”
She pulled up a video on her smartphone and handed it to me. It showed her naked on her hands and knees with a black man on his knees brutally fucking her from behind. Another black man dropped to his knees in front of her and shoved his cock into her mouth, he roughly fucked her face. Abruptly, the video ended.
A tear trickled down my face.
“I’m sorry, Milo. I left you the note, hoping you’d come to the club and rescue me. I really don’t need the money to fly back to Arkansas. My Daddy said he would send it. I never dreamed that you would want to marry me.”
Tears had once again wrecked Leslie Jean’s make-up I wiped her tears away, saying, “That video changes nothing. I love you and I want to marry you.”
“What about the video?”
“I’m sorry you had to do that, but as far as I’m concerned it was Lacey who was in a porno. I’m marrying Leslie Jean.”
She studied me for moment gauging my sincerity then smiling widely, she hugged me. After she reapplied her make-up, we went into City Hall where a justice of the peace married us.
I found it impossible not to smile at Leslie Jean who still wore my gray sweatshirt over her lingerie with the elegance of a million-dollar wedding dress. My heart swelled, I was so in love with her.
Following the brief service, I took Leslie Jean to her apartment, it was right on the beach. After she opened the door, I lifted her up into my arms and carried her across the threshold. I set her down and after Matador trotted through it, I closed the door.
Leslie Jean went to the kitchen and found a can of tuna. After pouring its contents into a bowl, she sat it on the floor for Matador. She patted his head then grabbing my hand, she led me to her bedroom.
With a sense of urgency she pulled the sweatshirt over her head and threw it on the floor. Reaching behind her back, she undid her bra and it joined the sweatshirt. Cooing she cupped her big breasts for a moment before tweaking her hard nipples. She walked towards me seductively swaying hips from side to side. Her eyes glimmered with lust. Pulling my face to hers, she kissed me with passionate yearning.
I pulled into a tight embrace and lovingly squeezed her buttocks.
Leslie Jean broke the kiss and said, "I love you. I’m so happy to be your wife."
She dropped into a squat and released my hard cock from my trousers. Taking it in hand she jerked it until I moaned. Her eyes twinkled as she teasingly ran her tongue up and down my shaft, before sucking on the swollen helmet of my cock. S pitting out my cock, she arose to her feet and pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them and handed them to me.
I lifted them to my face and inhaled her aroma. My cock quivered in anticipation of the pleasures to come.
Leslie Jean crawled on the bed and assumed the kowtow position. Her arms stretched before her with her knees drawn-up under her, pushing her excited sex in the air. In this position she was offering me her both puffy pussy and her pretty pucker. Seductively, she said, "Take my ass.”
“I can’t after seeing that video.”
Suddenly, her face went grim. She sat up and said, “I know you want my ass, Milo. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at it. You’re my husband and I won’t deny you that pleasure. I love you.”
Kowtowing again she said, “Just take your time and get me ready so I can enjoy it too.”
I finished stripping then crawled on the bed behind her pro-offered posterior. I lightly traced my hand along the curve of her ass. Goose bumps rose on her excited flesh. I kissed each of her buttocks before spreading her cheeks apart, revealing her pretty pink pucker and her gorgeous gash. I kissed her pouting pussy lips and used my tongue to broach them. Noisily moaning, my new wife indicated her pleasure. My tongue grudgingly departed her pussy, and I replaced it with two fingers. The wet soppy sound of my digits sawing in out of her cunt echoed in the bedroom. I kissed her taint. Then I tenderly pushed the flat of my tongue against her anus.
Her body jumped like she had just received an electric shock and she yelped, “Oh my.”
I slithered my tongue further into the interior of her anus teasing it and her moans morphed into hedonistic whimpers of delight. Removing my fingers from her pussy, I delicately wiggled them into her butthole. Deliberately, I twisted them in a clockwise motion to relax her anus. To distract her, I sucked a hickey on her each buttock. Spreading my fingers open like scissors, I stretched her rectum in preparation for my cock.
Decadently, she stuck two of her own fingers into her pussy. Pushing her palm hard against her mound, she applied pleasurable pressure to her clit. As she manipulated her cunt, she stuttered, "uh…oh…uh.”
"Milo....I’m, I’m…cumming," she huffed as her body quaked with orgasm.
I let her settle down and fondled her heaving breasts, gently pinching her nipples until she cried out. I grasped my cock and ran it up and down her slobbering slit, lubricating it with her excitement. Then I stabbed my cock into her pussy and began thrusting as hard and as fast as I could. I diddled her clit with one hand while continuing to pinch her nipples with the other.
Leslie Jean wasn't expecting the sudden pleasurable incursion into her cunt and she began hissing and growling. Her pussy felt like warm wet velvet around my cock.
“Your pussy feels so good,” I huffed.
Suddenly, she threw her head back and wailed, "Oooh! Cum! Ooooh!"
As her cunt convulsed around my cock in sudden orgasm, I hissed curling my toes, fighting back my own urge to cum.
She growled as I withdrew my throbbing cock from her cunt, glancing over her shoulder glassy-eyed, she demanded , "Do it Milo, put it in my ass."
With some persistence I pushed my cock past her resisting sphincter and my wet cock entered her ass. Gradually, I eased into her butt, inch by inch, until my cock was buried in it up to my balls. I paused and caressed her breasts, allowing her to adjust to my girth.
She looked back at me with a gratified grimace and nodded. She moaned as I slowly withdrew my cock and just before it popped out of her ass, I just as slowly propelled it back into her, she groaned.
With her pleasure in mind, I continued the tortoise-like thrusts and snaked two fingers into her pussy. Through the walls of her pussy, my fingers felt my cock sliding in and out of her ass. Forcefully, I pushed my palm against her clit. A low rumble began deep in her core and grew into a full blown scream of ecstasy. Vaginal fluid spewed from her cunt and splattered with a whoosh on the mattress. She wailed, "Ahhhhh!"
I felt her body quake with orgasm and it fed my need to climax. I drove my cock in and out of her ass with lustful abandon, her whimpers of pleasure fueled my desire. My pace quickened until my testicles tightened. With a final thrust, I sank my shaft deeply into her ass and shot streams of cum inside her innards. I felt her hand on my balls, squeezing the cum from them. I bellowed, “Cumming.”
When my cock softened and slipped out of her ass, she collapsed on the bed and rolled over onto her back. Falling on the bed beside her, I rested my head on her bosom. She hugged me close purred, "I’m so in love with you, Milo. I’ve never been so pleasured.”
Hugging her tight, I kissed her. My voice trembled with affection as I said, “I love you too. I never dreamed a smashed up son-of-bitch like me could ever be loved.”
“I didn’t think I was worthy of being love,” her voice cracked with raw emotion. She wiped a tear from her cheek then continued, “Thanks for loving me.”
Love was the best Christmas gift we could have given each other and we had the rest of our lives to do it. It seemed like a holiday miracle, a broken down bartender and a used up stripper had at last found happiness.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/broken-and-used.aspx">Broken and Used</a>