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The New Girl

My son and I enjoy the girl I bought.
Old Silas came puffing into the station that morning looking worried. His antique pick-up with piled full of his junk and a few pieces of furniture. He came into the office with a pretty girl by the wrist and sat her down. “Bill, my buddy, what’ll y’give me for her? I got to get out a’town.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, admiring the youngster on the chair in her tight t-shirt and grimy Levis. She was barefoot and her hair a tangled mess. She did not look happy.

“Them spics caught me selling meth in their territory; gonna cut me up for dog meat.”

“Where’s your woman and the kids?”

“She run, took `em with her; didn’t want this one on account she sassed her all the time.”

The girl looked at me and licked her lips. My cock tingled.

“How old’s she?”

“Damn if I know, sebenteen, eighteen, like that, quit school. Gimme a hundred for her. I got to run.” He really looked worried and kept glancing at the road. His truck was quivering, idling.

I dug a few twenties out of the till, handed them to him and wished him luck. He ran.

“What’s your name?” I asked the girl who seemed to be sucking her thumb.

“Go to hell,” she said quietly. “Go fuck yourself, y’old turdface.”

“If I’m going to feed you, you’re going to work. When somebody comes in and starts pumping gas, you go out and squeegee off their front and back windows. Understand?”

She nodded.

“You know how to check the oil?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll teach you, but not today. Boy that’s supposed to help out ain’t here yet.”

The bell dinged and I said, “Git!”

I sat and watched while she did her job, and the man pumping gas watched her young ass in motion. The kid didn’t have much in the boob department, but she had a good body and long legs, and, damn it, under her dirt and messy hair, she was pretty. I knew her mother, a good-looking woman.

When the lazy kid that worked for me after school finally got to work, he gawked at the girl, looked at me, scratched his groin and found his broom. I locked up the money and hustled down to the sporting goods store and bought one of those red Baywatch swim suits, a small, and then got a short, tartan skirt at the Gap and trotted back to work. The station was still there and the girl was fighting him off with my change maker, scattering coins all over the tarmac, kicking and cussing. I fired the kid, paid him off and handed the girl the bathing suit and the skirt. “See if that fits you. Clothes you’re wearing are filthy.”

She looked up at me and made a face, sniffed, got the bathroom key and disappeared.

She was gone a good while but when she came back she had washed her curly hair with that liquid soap and poured her lean body into the stretchy bathing suit. I was surprised that her nipples were so big and prominent. The skirt came down to about mid-thigh. She looked good even though her knockers were only maybe baseball-sized. They were big enough to eat, that was for sure, apples waiting to be chewed.

“Forgot you needed shoes,” I said.

She sniffed. “Give me some money. I’ll fetch them.”

“You wont run off?”

“Dressed like this? Ha!”

I gave her a twenty and she asked for two.

About nine o’clock we closed up as traffic got down to almost zero. She plunked herself in my Corvette, said, “Nice car” and did the seat belt.

“You hungry?” I asked her.

“Yep. Ain’t et today hardly.”

“You speak English now and then?”

She didn’t answer. I drove to a decent place, and she said she didn’t want to go in dressed the way she was so I gave her my leather jacket and we found a table, got menus and ordered just like ordinary people except that she was showing about a yard of bare leg. I saw people, mostly men, looking.

She ate fast, gobbling down the food and asking for more. I gave her some from my plate, and she was working on her second bowl of ice cream before I finished my steak.

I drank some coffee, and she got a third ice cream sundae, grinning at me.

So I took her home. My son, who was going to summer school so he could graduate next year, was watching TV. I introduced my boy and the girl said, “I’m Candy.”

“Whew,” he said. “I think you are. Can I take a bite?’

She laughed as he pulled her down on the sofa beside him. I got myself a beer and sat and watched TV while they got to know each other some. It was interesting to watch. My son was very good with girls, something I never was; he had his arm around her shoulders most of the time, sometimes a hand on her thigh. At eleven, they stood when the news came on, and he said, “Good night, Paw. I’ll show Candy where to sleep. She’s says she’s tired.”

I nodded and he grinned.

Half hour later, I turned off the lights and mounted the stairs. Before I got to the top step, I could hear them. He was grunting and she was gasping and the bed was creaking.

I went to bed and was almost asleep when she slipped in behind me. “He’s nice,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Um,” I said, turning to face her. “You have fun?”

“Uh huh. You want a piece?”

“Go to sleep. We get up at six; station opens at seven.”

“You gonna do me in the morning?”

“Wasn’t he good enough?” I turned to face her and we were nose to nose. She was naked, and her skin was soft and warm. She grasped my swelling horn.

“You’re a lot bigger; bigger’n daddy even.” She stroked it and played with the head.

“You want to be on top?”

“Sure. You’d mash me flat.”

I rolled to my back, held my big cock at its throbbing base, and she swung a leg across and impaled herself, whimpering as she slid down the rigid thing. When it was in, she sniffed and shook her head from side to side.

I reached up and grasped her boobs, squeezing out her big nipples between my fingers.

She leaned forward, and I grabbed her butt as she began moving on my rod and giving me her tits to suck, grinding her belly into mine. She was good, but I was tired so pretty soon I rolled us over, got up on my elbows and pumped her full of my jism, pulled my big cock out with a squishy pop and turned my back, ignoring her whimpering.

I awoke with the girl licking my aching prick.

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