Escape

It didn’t take much.

Pulling up behind the gas station. A knock on your window. A roll of bills on your dashboard, hers once she was done.

And now here she was - her head a mess of chestnut and blonde strands as it bobs up and down on your cock. You wished you had more room than the cramped backseat of your car would allow; the sight of her on her knees between your legs would have been wonderful. But you weren’t in much of a position to complain, not when that hot, wet, slick mouth of hers was doing such delightful, wicked work.

She knew how to please you. This wasn’t her first rodeo, and certainly not with you. No, you were what some people would call a repeat customer. 

You felt ashamed, sometimes, that you had to pay for it. But that would come later, after she was done. For now there was only the moment, only the wicked little tongue tracing random paths around the underside of your cock on the downstroke, and playing merry havoc with your tip with every upstroke.

Your hand reaches for the top of her head, and for a moment you consider fucking her mouth until you came in it. Maybe that would come on a different day, a different transaction. Tonight, you’d paid for all of her, and by god, you were going to get all of her.

And so your hand moves to her cheek, even as it continues to bob up and down the length of your cock, hollow with suction, tight against your shaft. It takes more self-control than you would like to slowly ease her off you. She gets the hint, and when she looks up at you with a needy eyes, spit and pre-cum dripping from her lips, you knew then and there that she wanted it just as much as you did.

Yes, there was a financial transaction involved - but there was no disguising the fact that it was a mutually beneficial business agreement.

She moves, quickly, smoothly, a thin, lithe feline, maneuvering around the backseat to take up position in your lap the way she had on so many lonely nights before. She wraps her arms around your neck. Your hands caress the sides of that tight, petite little body of hers. She’s so small, so tight. She had the kind of body you never forgot. It was one you always needed more of. 

Her legs spread around your hips, your saliva-slick cock painfully close to the wet heat between her thighs. The near-skintight, bright blue dress she is wearing rides up her hips, revealing her lack of underwear. Not that you expected her to be wearing any. Not in her line of work.

Her hands leave your neck for a moment, disappearing behind her neck. A twist of her wrists, a flick of her fingers, and the top of her dress sags on her chest.

No words. No need for them. She knew what you wanted.

Your hands move to her neck, each finding one end of the now-undone straps that held the dress loosely to her chest, before pulling them down and apart.

Her breasts - those small, perfect, round breasts - are revealed to your eyes, a gift finally, mercifully unwrapped. You’d seen them many times before, suckled on them until they were red and sore, glazed them with ropes of cum from your cock that was embedded into her throat or pussy mere moments before. But you never tired of seeing them, even if it cost you each time. It was a price you paid gladly.

She gasps as you bend forward and take her left breast into your mouth, lips wide apart, seeking to cover every inch of those mounds, fill your mouth with as much of her as you could. You suckle from her, teasing and then sucking tightly upon her taut nipples until they are red and sore saliva-streaked messes. Her arms wrap tightly around your neck as you do so, filling your ear with moans and gasps torn from a needy throat.

Her hips move, gyrate, writhe atop your lap. More than once her wet, dripping core brushes against your cock. She tries her best to tease you, tries her best to make you wait, but soon her self-control vanishes and she is grinding her wet entrance against yours, capturing your cock between her slick lips and moving up and down, up and down, up and down, her wet lips and taut clit pressed tight against the hardness of your cock.

She moans and sighs and gasps into your ear and you wonder if her other customers treat her like this, treat her as well as you do, get her off as well as you do. Do they simply pump into her mouth or pussy or ass without care for her pleasure, leaving her when they were done with nothing more than a wad of cash and a dripping hole? Does anyone else relish this body, appreciate it for the work of art that it is?

But she steals those thoughts away from you. There would be time, later, of course, when it was all said and done - time for shame, or other negative, sad thoughts. For now, for this moment, there was only pleasure.

Even as your tongue plays with the tip of a painfully erect nipple, her right hand slips between your hot, sweaty bodies to point your cock, slick with her spit and her juices, into her entrance. Your head parts her lips. With a dip of her hips, she takes you inside her.

She is so hot, so wet, so tight. You wonder how she could be so, given her profession. But as with so many of the other thoughts that coursed through your head in the past few minutes, her body steals them away from you. They are replaced with pleasure. And the pressing need for more.

She rides you, softly at first as her body adjusts. But she doesn’t take long to ramp up to a steady pace. This was far from the first time she’d ridden you in your backseat. Her body knows you. It remembers you. It loves the way it makes her feel.

You rip your mouth away from her breasts to lean your head back against the headrest and sigh. Your hands, previously pressed against her sweat-dampened back, drift down her body until they are clutching the full cheeks of her butt, squeezing the firm mounds of flesh even as they bounce up and down atop your cock.

Her moans get louder and louder inside the now humid environment of your car. A passerby glancing into the alleyway wouldn’t have had a hard time guessing what was going on inside it. Not that you gave a damn. Not that you would’ve stopped, even if they’d pressed lecherous eyes into the glass of your rear windows and watched.

You never tired of her. Could never tire of her. Circumstances and context and all other external forces aside, for a brief moment, she took it all away. And by ‘all’, you meant the pain and hopelessness and overall shittiness of daily life. She was only a temporary escape, in a tight little body and wrapped in a slutty little dress, but an escape nonetheless.

Her pace quickens. Her fingers dig into your neck and scalp. She tightens around you. She is so slick and wet that you can feel her juices drip down your shaft and onto your balls. You knew what it meant. You bring your mouth to her ear.

You tell her to cum.

She does just that. She pulsates and tightens and moans her pleasure into your needy ear. 

You wonder how many of her other customers made her cum. How many of them she faked one for. How many of them even gave a damn about her cumming at all.

But this was real - there was no mistaking it. There was no faking the way she felt, or hiding the look in her eyes when she raises her head from where she had buried it into your neck. On her flushed, soft features, for just a moment - there is a vulnerability there. It is short and fleeting and quickly replaced by a wicked pleasure as she slowly begins to grind her sloppy pussy against you, but it is unmistakable. 

For a moment, you are not a customer, and she is not a supplier. You are a man and woman. And you share something in that moment, however brief and ephemeral, that transcends circumstance and environment. 

She knows it, recognizes it just as much as you do. Even as she continues to gyrate atop your lap, taking you in and out of her body, those eyes remain locked on yours. You see them clearer than you ever had before. Bright and glassy, full of more emotion that you had ever seen in one person at one time. She is many things, but in those few minutes, she is the most beautiful woman on earth.

It is only when you cum inside her, when your twitching cock fills her body with rope after rope of thick, warm semen, that your eyes break contact. She clutches you tightly against her as though you were the most precious thing in her world, arms around your neck, cheek pressed against yours. 

You are two humans sharing a moment, desperately grasping the last strands of pleasure like grains of sand from a clenching fist, wishing that moment would last forever but knowing it wouldn’t, knowing that the dark, sad realities of the world would soon return. You are both afraid of it, fearing the moment it comes back, hoping against hope that you could stay inside this temporary, evanescent little escape you had both created for each other.

But the merciless world cared not for your wishes, and slowly, painfully, it returns.

She is the first to move. She keeps her face close, her nose grazing your cheek, until your lips touch. The kiss is soft, tender. Like so many things whenever you two are together, it lasts only a moment.

The moment passes, and when it does it leaves your heart empty.

She eases herself off you, redresses herself as best she can. It was always awkward, these few minutes after sex, when the realities of what you had done set in, unwelcomed and unwanted.

When she is fully dressed, you both leave the backseat. You return to the driver’s seat, and she lingers outside the passenger side window. You reach for the roll of cash on your dashboard and hand it to her.

She shakes her head at the sight of it. There is a painfully sad look on her face, her small features shattered, as though the sight of the money in your hand had broken her glass heart into a million pieces. For a second you wonder why, until your eyes find hers.

They are glassy. They are sad. In their corners, there are tears barely held.

She gives you a sad, broken smile before she turns away, back to her life of darkness and sadness, back to a world that used her and discarded her, reviled her for what she was. Your mutual escape was over, but the world she had to return to was far more dangerous than yours. As she walks away on shaky legs her lips quiver with barely restrained emotion, and her eyes shut as she feels the tears well behind them.

The sound of a car door opening stops her in her tracks.

She turns back toward your car to find the passenger door open. In your hand the wad of cash has disappeared.

There is only your hand, palm upward. A gesture of greeting, of welcoming.

You smile at her, awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to do. She smiles back. A broken smile, but a smile nonetheless - and smiles were rare in her life.

A single tear slides down her cheek as she takes your hand, steps into your passenger seat and you drive away, out of the dark alley and towards the fading sunset.

You had no idea where you were going, no idea what to say, no idea whether you were currently committing the biggest mistake of your life. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You were going to take her away from all this, take her away from the cruel, dark world that you had both found yourselves entangled in.

You were going to escape, and you were going to do it together.