Wealthy blonde woman hires a homeless Black veteran. Instead of looking at a job application or resume, she checks what's in his pants.
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I wondered what the fuck the absurdly hot thirty-something blonde was doing, parking a brand-new gold Lamborghini under an overpass in the worst part of town, in one of the worst cities in the country. She was obviously a rich bitch trophy wife, with thumb-sized jeweled earrings dangling from beneath her long and curly fake honey-colored hair. A gold necklace with a ruby big as a grape dangled down between the fake melon tits in her lowcut black and white mini-dress.
Gold rings with large gems adorned half her fingers. Her smooth skin was creamy white, but a small black and white Gucci purse bounced against her fake ‘black girl sized’ ass. With bright red soles, her black and white three-inch pumps were obviously from Louis Vuitton. I wondered how she could eat or even breathe, with her impossibly narrow waist. I felt my dick swell and wondered if I was in the middle of a wet dream. If I was, I didn’t want to wake up!
The sleazy beauty walking beneath the graffiti covered overpass, strutting between a stack of wooden pallets and a dumpster, toward a group of homeless Black men, seemed as unlikely as what happened next. She looked at me and the big cardboard box I’d slept in, then the three other bums. Our eyes were glued to the cash she took from her purse, a stack of hundred-dollar bills! The bombshell fanned the bills in her hand and waved them around. I was shocked beyond words when she loudly called out, “Want some money? Show me your penises, and I’ll give each of you a hundred dollars.”
She was either the most badass bimbo around, or stupid and about to be in deep shit. Either way, I prepared to get up and run. The other guys stood and the tallest boasted, “Come here and see the biggest cock around.” He undid his belt.
From eight paces away, she smiled and replied, “If it’s that big, I can see it from here. Whip it out.”
Another commanded, “Come here, hot Mamma! I’m gonna pound your pretty white poon ‘til ya beg me ‘ta stop! I’ll fuck ‘ya bloody and keep goin’!”
The third slowly walked toward her. He chuckled, “Hahaha! Sex can wait. Gimme all your money, bitch!” He took an old steak knife from his jacket pocket.
I tried to de-escalate the situation. “Hold on, bro. She’ll give us money, right?”
The hot slut nodded, “Sure! A hundred dollars if you take off your pants and underwear.”
“I want it all, bitch!” He waved the knife around and walked toward her.
I ran to him and punched the back of his wrist, knocking the knife away. He tried to backhand me in the face, but I ducked and darted around behind him. By the time the bleach blonde gasped, I planted the heel of my left boot squarely in the seat of his torn and dirty jeans, sending him sprawling to the dirt. The other two warily approached as I shifted to a guard stance. I warned them, “It ‘aint worth it. I’m a Marine. Think about it.” At least I was a Marine, five years before.
The tall one grabbed a steel pipe from the ground and said, “Ya’ look like a broke ass bitch to me, motherfucker! Outa’ the way!” He walked toward me and moved to take a swing with the pipe, but I was quicker. I ducked and kicked his ankle to distract him, then grabbed his wrist. I twisted it until I heard a ‘POP!’ The pipe dropped to the ground as he screamed and ran away. I turned toward the third guy. He was quite nervous, deciding if he should attack me. I shouted, “BOO!” He ran off, following the others.
The blonde clapped several times. “Bravo! Well done!” There was a lusty look in her eyes. She stared into mine and licked her lips slightly.
“This is a dangerous place, lady! Are you nuts? You gotta be more careful!”
She withdrew a hand from her pocket, holding pepper spray. She put it away saying, “I’m careful enough. So, how can I reward my hero?” She stared between my legs.
“I uh… I’m real hungry, and I don’t have any money.”
“My offer still stands, a hundred dollars to see what’s in your pants.”
I knew there was no way law enforcement could afford anything like a Lambo, and a police officer owning jewelry like hers was impossible. Still, I cautiously asked, “You’re not a cop, right? I don’t wanna get in trouble.”
She held up her driver’s license. “Gwendolyn Hollister. Everybody calls me ‘Gwen.’ I’m a massage therapist and professional escort.”
“Uh, Mike. Mike Adams. Um, homeless.”
“Would a cop show you this?”, she asked. The hot blonde lifted the front of her dress and moved her red panties aside, revealing her small pink pussy for a few seconds. It was totally bald and probably average for a White woman, but small and appealing to me. I admired it briefly and noticed a few drops of moisture. She covered herself and teased, “I showed you mine…”
“Okay.” I unzipped and pulled my shorts down, letting her look a little while.
“WOW! It’s big around as my wrist! I bet when it’s hard, you have fifteen inches! Over a foot of cock!”
I bashfully admitted, “Um, eleven, I think. So, uh, about the money…”
She passed me a crisp new hundred. “Of course! Here you go. Would you have lunch with me? Do you like sushi? Traditional French cooking? Modern Italian? Asian fusion?”
“A burger and fries would be good.”
She suggested, “Sure. No offence meant, but maybe a shower, too? My hotel is only three miles.” I was surprised again when she pushed a button on her keyring. The golden Lambo’s horn beeped for a fraction of a second and the gull-wing doors swung upward.
I was embarrassed to admit, “I haven’t showered in two weeks. That would be great!”
Her cheeks rapidly reddened while she suggested, “It will be even better if I wash your back. Um, and your front.” She glanced at my zipper.
I agreed. “Deal!”
When I leaned down to kiss her, she coughed and reached into her purse. She handed me something small. “Breath mint, then shower, then… hehehe!”