Filthy 3: A Dark Erotic Serial by Megan D. Martin

ONE

    “Hop in.”
    I rubbed my hands against the tops of my bare thighs as I eyed the open pick-up truck before me. The man holding it open was a guy I knew, Richard. All of my Johns names ran together in a messy blob in my head. But not his. Richard is different.
    He was my first customer tonight. My first customer since I left Rhett’s house some three hours ago, hitching a ride back to the Truck Stop, back to the little tent across the street, my shitty coke, and my best friend Shauna. The only place I’d ever proudly called home.  
    It was funny how easy it was to leave. I thought it would be hard with Rhett guarding the door. But he wasn’t. No one was in the living room when I peeked my head out around eleven and no one came running when I slipped silently out the front door.
    I was almost disappointed. But then I wasn’t. I wasn’t going to stay there and pretend like life was good or different.  
    That would’ve been a lie.
    “I’ve missed you.” The words tumbled from Richard’s lips while his eyes darted up and down my form. I could already see his dick outlined in his pants.
    I gave him a coy smile, flashing my teeth in my seductive way. He wasn’t bad looking, in fact he was pretty young when it came to the men I fucked. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five with short, dark hair and a twitchy smile.
    “Me too, baby.” I hopped up in his truck. When he slammed the door and started moving to the other side, I dropped my smile and rubbed an achy hand against my forehead. My body hurt all over. I needed my coke. Now . But I didn’t have any money. Not yet. This fuck would get me enough cash to get what I needed from Jorge.
    Richard slid in next to me and moved his seat back as far as it would go. “You remember what I like, sweetheart?”
    I did. I would never forget what he liked.  
    He reached out and trailed a hand down my face. I let him, though I didn’t really feel it. All I could feel was the ache just beneath my skin. The throbbing awareness of how badly I needed a bump.
    “You remember, don’t you, mommy?”
    I flinched. Even though I knew he would call me that, I was never prepared for the first time he said it. The word needled around in my head. I knew he wanted me to ride his cock while he sucked my tit and moaned mommy against my flesh. And I knew I would let him. I knew that something deep inside me would twist and knot until I cried out and came all over his dick.
    I plastered a fake smile across my lips. “I could never forget my little boy.”
    He reached into his pocket and extracted a condom. I almost laughed at the sight of it. The fact that I had an STD stood out prominently in my mind, reminding me of the last few days that had turned my life upside down and set me back further than before I left. I watched him roll it over his dick. He was uncut. Medium-sized.  
    “Have you been a bad boy?” I climbed on top of him and my leopard skirt rolled up, revealing my thighs and my bare pussy. “Does mommy need to punish you?”  
    He moaned and thrust his hips up. His cock bumped against my clit and I hated the fact that I was wet. That I liked this dynamic. Before Rhett had found me, before everything that had happened in the last week, I had looked forward to Richard coming to fuck me. He was one of the few that I actually enjoyed. But it wasn’t for obvious reasons. It wasn’t because he had particularly good moves or because he was decent looking. The truth was that he fucked like an average man and came too quickly.  
    I enjoyed him because when he called me mommy I felt something. Something that stirred deep inside me. Yearning. It was that broken knot. It made want something I could never have. Kids. I knew how pathetic that was. How twisted it made me. But I would take what I could get. And this was it. The chances of me being a mother began and ended with Richard. This twenty-five year old man with a fucked-up fetish.
    “Have you been bad?” I grabbed