Ginger Pays Her Debt
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Author’s Acknowledgment: A big thank-you to Literotica user Jack_Meehoff for input that inspired this story.
The shithole tavern where I work is really busy tonight. There’s a haze of smoke that fogs the dim, dingy bar. I see you sitting over there at that table in the corner of my section like you do every Friday night. You’re eyeing me like I’m the piece of meat you’ll be eating as soon as I come over and take your order.
You’re a neighbor of mine, and you run an auto repair shop. I’m a waitress. I’m a struggling musician and I work three jobs to pay the rent on my brokedown dump of an apartment. City living isn’t cheap.
Last week my car broke down on the side of the highway while I was coming back from a gig in Jersey. I called you, and you came by and towed it to your shop. It was an expensive fix, but you insisted on fixing it up anyway and said I could pay you back later with whatever money I had. I let you fix the damn thing but I’ve got nothing to pay you with today, tomorrow, or next week. I’ve got no cash, and you know it. But you don’t want cash anyway. You keep eyeing my fine ass in this short, tight leather skirt, and I know what kind of payment you’re looking for. You’re not here to collect money. You’re here for a nice hot fuck.
I saunter over to your table to take your order. You’re not bad to look at. Quite the contrary. You’re just the kind of man I like – dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin, a little burly from moving car parts around, with grease and dirt under your fingernails as proof of your life earning an honest, dirty wage. You’re wearing a sweaty old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and some ratty old jeans. You must have just come from work.
“Damn it, Ginger! About time you came over here, woman.” You say, teasing. “You got a lot of nerve to wait on all these other customers before me when I’ve been good enough to help tow and fix that piece-a-shit car you drive.”
“Oh fuck you, Joe,” I laugh. “I just save the best customer for last so I can lavish him with all my attention.”
Truth is, I barely know you, but I’ve already got a sweet spot for you. I’d let you fuck my brains out to pay off my debt, but last time I paid a guy with sex he got carried away, I changed my mind at the last minute, and he forced himself on me anyway. He tied me down in the back of his Silverado and made me do all kinds of things to him, then duct-taped my mouth, bent me over the back seat and tore me up. The grand finale was when threw me out on the sidewalk and I had to walk home with my clothes half-ripped off. It wasn’t an experience I’d like to relive again. I know you wouldn’t do that to me, but I’m hesitant to give you the opportunity.
“What’ll it be tonight, Joe?”
“I want a Philly Cheese with fries, and a cold beer. And why don’t you have those bastards back there hold the extra grease this time, too, for once. I already had indigestion once this week.”
“All right, Joe, Philly Cheese, side of fries, cold beer, and extra grease.” I laugh.
“Oh, and I want you to pay me for the work I did on your car, Ginger. You don’t have to pay me in cash, if you know what I mean.” You remind me, as if it’s part of the order and I’m on the menu. You’re sweet on me too, or at least you like to admire my body in my skimpy attire. Our bar’s the primary drinking spot for bikers and construction workers, so I dress for that clientele. Lately you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off me. I’ve felt you staring at me when I turn my back. The thought of you eyeing me up like this thrills me a little.
I even dressed a little skimpier for you tonight, hoping you’d come by. I’m wearing a short, tight leather skirt that grabs the curve of my ass just right. It’s a hot August evening so I ditched the pantyhose. I’ve got some heeled boots and a low-cut halter top that shows off the tribal armband tattoo I got back in my glory days as a folk-rock musician. The skirt’s a little low-rider that doesn’t quite meet the halter top, so you can see the cloverleaf tramp stamp half hidden on my lower back and the top of my black thong. ankara escort I’ve got a nose piercing, and tonight my thick red hair is in a single braid down my back. My hair’s a mark of pride for me. I let it grow, and it’s practically to my ass. I’ve been out in the sun all summer, and my big freckles are thick and dark across my shoulders, the bridge of my nose, and my chest.
“Well, Joe. I know I owe you. I appreciate your help with the car. We’ll have to settle up at dessert. I’ve got some meals to bring out.” I smile, and turn to walk away.
You follow me with your eyes. “You serving dessert back at your place tonight, Ginger?”
“No, Joe. I’m working the night shift. I can’t leave until 5 AM. But this is a restaurant, you know. We make desserts here.”
“Oh really? I don’t know if you have what I’m craving.” You smile wickedly, rolling your eyes up to stare at my full, pink lips all shimmery with gloss. At this moment, I know you’re imagining me on my knees in front of you, sucking your dick. I know you’re picturing it in your head, wondering how my mouth would look wrapped around your hard, veiny cock, whether I’d use tongue, whether I’d take you deep in my throat, whether I’d moan with pleasure while letting you use me like that.
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that. I think I can probably get you whatever it is you’re craving.” The way you look at me unnerves me and gives me a twinge of excitement. You’re a good, hard-working man. It would be a good fuck, for sure. I’ve been with enough men to tell who can fuck well and who can’t. But, I’ve been down this road before, and the cost of the repair was expensive. I need every dime I can get. I would be paying you in sex. I don’t know what kinds of slutty things I might have to do in order to fully repay my debt. I would be at your mercy. The idea of it excites me and scares me at the same time. This is so wrong. Where will this lead? What if I like it? What if I like the feel of you in my mouth? I don’t want to like you; it’s dangerous. What if I use it to get free car service on a regular basis? I don’t want you to become a habit.
I serve you your dinner and you eat it hungrily. The evening is winding down and the place is clearing out. It’s just you and one guy at the bar, plus the bartender, the line cook, a busboy, and the dishwasher. I stand by your table and make small talk with you about your mechanic shop. Finally, when the last customer leaves and it’s just you, I tell Miguel the bartender that I’m going to custom-make you a dessert and I let you follow me back to the kitchen.
The kitchen is filled with steamy smoky air, dirty dishes, greasy crumbs and soggy french fries. We’re alone here. The cook, busboy, and dishwasher are all out in the alley on break. “Are you going to repay me?” You ask softly, sweetly, pleadingly, standing so close to me that I can smell you. You smell like man – sweat, skin oil, car grease, Ivory soap, and a faint hint of this morning’s aftershave all muddled together. I realize that I like the way you smell.
“Maybe. I don’t know, Joe. It’s just that, I’ve been down that road before. I don’t want to find myself in a bad situation.” I wait for that to sink in. I want to play coy with you. I don’t want you to know how bad I want you.
“What’s it going to cost me?”
You turn your head up sideways, thinking about what you really want. “A blow job should cover the repairs. You can make it real quick, right here, right now.” You’re whispering in my ear, and pleading with me. I like how your body feels close to mine. I stare at you, making you wonder what I’m thinking. You wonder if I’m going to agree, or laugh and walk away.
You’re still trying to talk me into it. “Look, Ginger. That cook of yours and his friends are out in the alley. The bartender doesn’t care. Nobody will even see. Nobody else even has to know about it.” You nod for me to get on my knees. “Come on, now. Please?”
“Oh, all right, Joe, I’ll do it.”
My stomach is all butterflies. I will suck you off in this nasty, greasy kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes escort ankara and garbage, food grease and soap slime. Not only do I want to pay off my debt, but I want to do this for you – to you. I push you back into a corner and slide down on my knees. You look down at me and grin, realizing that I’m actually going to do it. Your belt buckle clanks as you undo it. I unzip your pants and pull out your cock.
You’re already hard. I’m looking up at you, and you’re grinning at me and running your greasy hands through my hair, knowing that you finally get to stop imagining what it looks like with my mouth wrapped around your shaft because I’m about to do it. I lick my lips and stick your cock right in my mouth and go to town, sucking you, making hungry sloppy noises with my lips and feeling you throb with pleasure as my tongue twirls on the underside of your shaft. I like how you feel so firm and unyielding, how you taste all salty and pungent like salted lime, how you smell like sweaty man but in a sexy way. I didn’t think I would like it. I realize I’ve been craving your hard dick in my mouth. You grunt and moan, throwing your arm up against the freezer and leaning forward, bracing yourself and thrusting your hips toward me. Your other hand grabs the back of my head and digs your cock into me real good, shoving yourself down my throat. You are aggressive, but you’re not hurting me. You’re just taking what’s yours, taking what I owe you.
The way your dick presses my glossy pink lips apart, the way I encircle your cock, the way my cheeks cave in as I suck up your shaft, it gets me hot. My pussy is getting wet. The feeling of fullness as you breach my throat has me gagging a little, but I will suppress it. I will pay my debt while kneeling on the greasy floor in this filthy dump of a kitchen. I almost like this. I do like this. I like this feeling of you violating my pink lips, of you leaning forward, forcing yourself into my mouth.
I reach down beneath my skirt, between my legs, and slide my panties aside. If I’m going to be a dirty whore, I’m going to enjoy it. I start fingering my pussy, sliding my finger up and down the slickness of my cunt while still going to town on your shaft. I’m pumping you hard with my hand, twirling my tongue, swallowing my throat around you, and you’re breathing heavy, leaning over me, shoving yourself down my throat, violating me so nicely. I take all of you in, and you start to shake with pleasure at the way my mouth feels around you, the intensity of my warm lips and tongue on your hard member in this filthy public kitchen. I’m finger-fucking my pussy violently, frigging myself, sucking you, loud moans of pleasure bubbling up my throat and around your cock. Yes, I’m moaning while you use me like this. Yes, I like it.
Suddenly my finger isn’t enough for my pussy. I need more. I crave dick. I need to get fucked. I pull you out of my mouth, saliva and precum running down my chin. “I want you to fuck me. But not here. It’s too slippery in here. It’s too hot.” I grab you by the cock and pull you behind me, making you follow me outside. You’re still hard from me sucking you. My hand feels good, soft, warm on your shaft. You feel so exposed with your fly down, my hand the only thing between your naked phallus and the outside world.
I lead you by the dick into the back alley. We turn the corner and duck behind the dumpster. The alley is filthy and the ground is covered with asphalt grit, sand, rotting crumbs of food, and broken glass from bar fights all caked with a layer of dumpster slime and mud. The stench of rotting garbage is inescapable, and the steam vent from the kitchen pours hot greasy steam down into the alley, covering everything with a greasy film. It’s nearly a hundred degrees and full humidity. We’re both panting, covered in slippery oil and sweat.
Your hot breath on my neck feels cooler than the steam vent as I pull you by the cock up alongside me in a space between the brick wall and the dumpster. You’re breaking out in a sweat just standing here feeling the steam and the sweat cascading off the building and my body. I ankara escort bayan pull you to me and lean up against the crumbling brick wall of the tavern, and the smell of rotting garbage is forgotten, and all I smell is your man scent, your sweat as it runs down your neck, the car grease from under your fingernails. I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I need to pay you off. I need you to fill my hot fuckhole. You feel so nice and slippery against me. I bite your neck. I taste the sweat of it. It just makes me moister for you.
Standing with my back against the brick wall, I hike my leather skirt up to my waist and slide my panties down and kick them aside. I wrap my legs around your waist and you grab my hips and in one smooth motion, slide inside me, and start thrusting. With every thrust, my boots flop and bang up against the empty dumpster, reverberating out into the street. The way you fill me up in this dark back alley is so savagely arousing. I like the way your sloppy wet mouth kisses down my neck, finds my mouth, tongues my lips aggressively, your hands greedily sneaking under my top to fondle my tits, grabbing handfuls of them.
I feel like such a dirty whore for letting you do this to me and enjoying every moment of it. There are cars on the street shushing by, bits of conversations from stragglers on the sidewalk drifting into the alley just a few feet away, and you’re throwing into me, scraping my ass against the brick, fucking me. I throw my head back and moan like an animal at the feeling of you filling me so roughly, thrusting quickly over and over, at the sound of my feet hitting the dumpster at every thrust. The cook, dishwasher, and busboy must have heard us because they come around the side of the dumpster to investigate. They stand there smoking, watching us fuck, commenting to each other in Spanish, enjoying the scene with their arms crossed. I let them watch. I moan louder to make them jealous. I talk dirty to you.
“Oh, god, Joe. Fuck me harder. Show these poor bastards how to fuck a girl. Oh, god. Fuck my cunt just like that.” I hope their cocks are hard in jealousy. I bet they wish they were fucking me like you are. They wish they had some steamy, whorey cunt to fuck.
You’re so greedy with me. You spin me around and bend me over. I raise my ass to you, grabbing the rim of an empty garbage can to steady myself. You fuck me from behind now, sliding your cock into my slippery pussy again and again, burying yourself balls deep in me. I cry out loudly with each thrust, enjoying every time you go deep, and you keep slamming me hard, making my tits slap against the side of the garbage can and your balls slap my ass, all of it one gigantic percussive echo in the alley. I let those men watch you nail me from behind, let them witness me giving you what’s yours, what I owe you. You grunt. I’ve been with enough men to know when a guy’s getting close, and the fact that you know I’m enjoying this repayment has nearly driven you over the edge.
I turn around and get down on my knees on the shitty, slimy ground behind the dumpster, with the three men watching, and wrap my lips around your hard dick. I gulp you down and stroke you violently in my hand. I take you in my throat again, tasting the sweetness of my own pussy juice mixed with your precum, smelling your man scent and hot sweaty animal arousal. You’re just about ready to blow. You’re throbbing hard, completely rigid, your hand locked in my hair, forcing my lips around your shaft. Your whole body is on the verge of exploding. I’ll give those nosy men something to jack off to when they go home tonight. They’ll wish I owed them something too.
I pull myself away from you, still stroking your cock violently in my hand. “Oh, god, Joe. Oh, fuck. Oh, come on my face,” I say, adding a few extra teases to the underside of your rigid cock with my little pink tongue.
I close my eyes and you come, the white hot stickiness of it landing across the bridge of my nose, on my soft pink lips, running down my chin and dribbling onto my dark freckled chest, dripping into my cleavage. I lick my lips and taste your cum. You press away from me, leaning against the brick wall, sweating and panting hard.
That was the best payoff I ever made. Best car service I ever got, too. You’re a good mechanic. I’m sure I’ll be back for more.
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