Match Made in Heaven
I was walking on 10th looking for a good one, carrying my knives in a briefcase rather than a satchel so as not to look suspicious. I just looked like a businessman when I carried a briefcase; a businessman with a wife and a lot of money but lonely and looking for a good piece of ass.
I saw fat ones with ripped tights and too much lipstick. Too much work for me, I thought, and walked on past as they gazed greedily after me. They thought I had money and lots of it. I needed a hot one this time, though—not a fat one.
A few minutes later, I saw her. A beautiful woman who looked vampy enough naturally that she didn’t need the red lips or dark eyes. She was stacked and had an ass that peeked out from under her miniskirt. I wouldn’t have known that a woman so good could be one of them if it weren’t for the shoes. Heeled, strappy, black boots so high that you’d think she was hiding something in them. Dark hair, dark skin…she wasn’t Caucasian, and that was the best part. The bags under her eyes gave her away the most—she was perfect for me. I walked up to her, put my lips to her ear.
“How much?” I asked quietly.
She gave me the quick look-over. “For you, bigshot, a lot; and you’d better get the fuck away from me and meet me up the street in five minutes. Get me in your car.”
“I’m sorry…it’s just that you don’t look like one, you know? I figured it’s safe here.”
“I don’t look like one, huh? Yeah, that’s what they all say. I'm not safe, though. Hah. So get the fuck away. Corner of 10th and Eastern in five.”
And so I did what she said. I walked back to my car and drove on up to the corner, which took about 10 minutes. She was waiting on a bench outside a bar. She had a large purse that she wasn’t carrying before. I bet she had some surprises in there for me…the nasty whore. Yeah. I had some surprises for her, too. She got in.
“Where to?” I asked shyly. I thought that I should make myself seem nervous with her. She was a smart one, and I didn’t need her onto me.
“You’re gonna drive for a bit. We’re gonna have to go far, to a warehouse I know. You weren’t very careful.”
“That’s fine,” I said. It was more than fine. It was perfect.
We arrived about twenty minutes later. She wasn’t kidding when she said far. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t care. It was a good place for me. We got out and she led the way; I looked at her body as I followed. God, was she a good one. It was almost a shame that I was going to do it to her, but not quite. Her looks really made it perfect. The others hadn’t quite met my standards. I really wanted a good one. She turned toward me and said, “Don’t get too excited until you’ve paid me, man.” I caught her eyes again. Those bags…I imagined what brought her here. Probably a drunk stepdad who fucked her one time too many; she’d had enough and run out, but she needed money. She’d been doing this since she was fifteen fucking years old. Damaged goods. Good, good.
We went inside and it was dim and smelled like wood. She took me back into a large room, probably an office once. She’d done this before. I looked around. A table, good. I didn’t like being there too long, though. I’d have to get right to it. She sat on the table, swinging her legs with those goddamned boots…
“What, you’ve got your money in that briefcase there?” she asked me coolly.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got some toys for me in that purse, baby?”
“Nah, pervert, I’ve got my money in here, too.”
“Well…now, listen, baby. Let’s get right to this. How much is it gonna be?” I reached into my briefcase and felt around. My fingers grasped a syringe.
She fingered the inside of her boot. “Well, honey, what’s a safe price for a rich guy like you?”
“'Safe' price, huh? That reminds me. You told me you're not a safe one,” I said as I neared her. “I found that ironic, baby…” I pulled out the syringe and jabbed it into her. M99. “…because…I not…”
Something had stung my neck when I was mid-sentence. I started feeling dizzy. She was already on the ground, out. I felt at my throat. A needle stuck out of it. She drugged me.
Bitch…
~*~
When I came to, she was still out. Her boot was undone. She must have kept needle in there. Fuck. Fuck my ass.
I stood up, still dizzy and barely able to move. I had to work quickly. She’d likely wake up soon.
I grabbed the twine out of my briefcase and tied her hands behind her back. I tied her legs, too, because I’d seen enough movies to know that you never leave their legs untied. I picked her up and put her on the table. God, was she heavy. Probably all those tits and ass.
It only then occurred to me to wonder what she drugged me for. I decided to take some chances and lose some time looking in her purse. I pulled out a black case and opened it. Knives.
“What the fuck?” The words were barely out of my mouth when I was knocked down by something from behind. I saw her tied hands reach for the knife, but I was up and on her before she could pull one out.
We were on the ground, rolling. She tried to knee me in the gut and the nuts a few times, but I had free hands and legs. I pinned her down. I was going to kill the whore. She writhed around and a tit popped out of her shirt. Her ass was hanging out of her skirt. I looked at her, and my mouth fell open. I couldn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill someone I wanted to fuck so badly. I thought for a second while she struggled beneath me.
“Wait. Why the hell were you trying to kill me?” I asked, still holding her down.
“I hate men who pick up prostitutes. What the fuck did you think you were doing drugging me, you fucking pervert?” She spat on me. “Wanted to knock me out so you could have me how you wanted?” She stopped struggling.
So that’s what she thought this was about. “Oh, darling, not hardly. I was trying to kill you, too."
I shrugged, "I hate prostitutes.”
Suddenly she reached her mouth up to mine and kissed me, hard. We began rolling on the ground violently, and I unzipped her mini and unleashed that glorious, monstrous ass. That was it. A free fuck with a killer prostitute, and it was the best goddamn fuck of my life.
~*~
We got married a month later, and joining us on our honeymoon were 10 slaughtered prostitutes and the men who picked them up.
I saw fat ones with ripped tights and too much lipstick. Too much work for me, I thought, and walked on past as they gazed greedily after me. They thought I had money and lots of it. I needed a hot one this time, though—not a fat one.
A few minutes later, I saw her. A beautiful woman who looked vampy enough naturally that she didn’t need the red lips or dark eyes. She was stacked and had an ass that peeked out from under her miniskirt. I wouldn’t have known that a woman so good could be one of them if it weren’t for the shoes. Heeled, strappy, black boots so high that you’d think she was hiding something in them. Dark hair, dark skin…she wasn’t Caucasian, and that was the best part. The bags under her eyes gave her away the most—she was perfect for me. I walked up to her, put my lips to her ear.
“How much?” I asked quietly.
She gave me the quick look-over. “For you, bigshot, a lot; and you’d better get the fuck away from me and meet me up the street in five minutes. Get me in your car.”
“I’m sorry…it’s just that you don’t look like one, you know? I figured it’s safe here.”
“I don’t look like one, huh? Yeah, that’s what they all say. I'm not safe, though. Hah. So get the fuck away. Corner of 10th and Eastern in five.”
And so I did what she said. I walked back to my car and drove on up to the corner, which took about 10 minutes. She was waiting on a bench outside a bar. She had a large purse that she wasn’t carrying before. I bet she had some surprises in there for me…the nasty whore. Yeah. I had some surprises for her, too. She got in.
“Where to?” I asked shyly. I thought that I should make myself seem nervous with her. She was a smart one, and I didn’t need her onto me.
“You’re gonna drive for a bit. We’re gonna have to go far, to a warehouse I know. You weren’t very careful.”
“That’s fine,” I said. It was more than fine. It was perfect.
We arrived about twenty minutes later. She wasn’t kidding when she said far. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t care. It was a good place for me. We got out and she led the way; I looked at her body as I followed. God, was she a good one. It was almost a shame that I was going to do it to her, but not quite. Her looks really made it perfect. The others hadn’t quite met my standards. I really wanted a good one. She turned toward me and said, “Don’t get too excited until you’ve paid me, man.” I caught her eyes again. Those bags…I imagined what brought her here. Probably a drunk stepdad who fucked her one time too many; she’d had enough and run out, but she needed money. She’d been doing this since she was fifteen fucking years old. Damaged goods. Good, good.
We went inside and it was dim and smelled like wood. She took me back into a large room, probably an office once. She’d done this before. I looked around. A table, good. I didn’t like being there too long, though. I’d have to get right to it. She sat on the table, swinging her legs with those goddamned boots…
“What, you’ve got your money in that briefcase there?” she asked me coolly.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got some toys for me in that purse, baby?”
“Nah, pervert, I’ve got my money in here, too.”
“Well…now, listen, baby. Let’s get right to this. How much is it gonna be?” I reached into my briefcase and felt around. My fingers grasped a syringe.
She fingered the inside of her boot. “Well, honey, what’s a safe price for a rich guy like you?”
“'Safe' price, huh? That reminds me. You told me you're not a safe one,” I said as I neared her. “I found that ironic, baby…” I pulled out the syringe and jabbed it into her. M99. “…because…I not…”
Something had stung my neck when I was mid-sentence. I started feeling dizzy. She was already on the ground, out. I felt at my throat. A needle stuck out of it. She drugged me.
Bitch…
~*~
When I came to, she was still out. Her boot was undone. She must have kept needle in there. Fuck. Fuck my ass.
I stood up, still dizzy and barely able to move. I had to work quickly. She’d likely wake up soon.
I grabbed the twine out of my briefcase and tied her hands behind her back. I tied her legs, too, because I’d seen enough movies to know that you never leave their legs untied. I picked her up and put her on the table. God, was she heavy. Probably all those tits and ass.
It only then occurred to me to wonder what she drugged me for. I decided to take some chances and lose some time looking in her purse. I pulled out a black case and opened it. Knives.
“What the fuck?” The words were barely out of my mouth when I was knocked down by something from behind. I saw her tied hands reach for the knife, but I was up and on her before she could pull one out.
We were on the ground, rolling. She tried to knee me in the gut and the nuts a few times, but I had free hands and legs. I pinned her down. I was going to kill the whore. She writhed around and a tit popped out of her shirt. Her ass was hanging out of her skirt. I looked at her, and my mouth fell open. I couldn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill someone I wanted to fuck so badly. I thought for a second while she struggled beneath me.
“Wait. Why the hell were you trying to kill me?” I asked, still holding her down.
“I hate men who pick up prostitutes. What the fuck did you think you were doing drugging me, you fucking pervert?” She spat on me. “Wanted to knock me out so you could have me how you wanted?” She stopped struggling.
So that’s what she thought this was about. “Oh, darling, not hardly. I was trying to kill you, too."
I shrugged, "I hate prostitutes.”
Suddenly she reached her mouth up to mine and kissed me, hard. We began rolling on the ground violently, and I unzipped her mini and unleashed that glorious, monstrous ass. That was it. A free fuck with a killer prostitute, and it was the best goddamn fuck of my life.
~*~
We got married a month later, and joining us on our honeymoon were 10 slaughtered prostitutes and the men who picked them up.
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