Long Hours

To some, a real job was a day at the office, working from nine-to-five. For a ***** on the streets of London, that job description was different...but a job with long hours just the same.
Sometimes, my punters were strangers that I met on the streets. In those cases, George told me where to wander because he knew where most men of interest liked to hang around. Other nights meant that the punters were picked personally by him. Either way, a typical night ended in long hours of *******, sucking them off, or both.
Location didn't matter much either. Whether I ******/sucked off my punters in their cars, at their homes, in motel rooms, or even in a back alley, I got my work done.
When I returned home, showered, and crawled into bed next to George, he held me in his arms, kissing me, ...and I could fall asleep knowing that I'd made my man proud. My pimp was the best in the world.


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26-30
1 Response Jan 6, 2013

Awww! So sweet