Household Oldest Professional

If someone's life was in danger, would you put your own life at risk to save them? If you witnessed a car accident, and there was a truck flipped over, and a severly injured girl was trapped inside, would you jump into that truck, whip out your trusty pocket knife, cut that girl free from her seatbelt and haul her ass out of that wreck, even if you knew that truck might explode at any second? Even if you knew you might die at any second?

Many people ask themselves this question and most convince themselves that yes, they would do something to help. But the truth is there is no real way to know what you would do until you're actually in that situation. Fortunately, most people make it through life without having to discover the answer to this question. I say fortunately because I suspect that most people would be disappointed in themselves when they find such heroic activity beyond their capacity. Most people wind up just standing around, doing nothing, frozen with shock or fear or the expectation that someone else will do what needs to be done.

But I know one person who witnessed that very car accident scenario I described above and she performed exactly as I described above. I think you can understand why I have a lot of respect and admiration for her. Her name is Stephanie, and for $150, she'll suck your cock.

As long time readers will recall, I recently spent a little more than a month living on the streets. One thing that new street persons, like I was, soon discover is that they are quickly shunned by "people who have shelters", and are forced to be drawn into the comparatively small circle of "people without shelters". A classic have/ have not scenario, though it's not my purpose to pass judgement on the human condition; I'm just reporting the facts today.

Sometime during the earliest of my homeless days, I was outside the downtown Safeway, long after hours, using my last quarter to unlock a shopping cart. I crawled inside the shopping cart and locked it back up so people couldn't get me out. It didn't stop them from poking me with sticks, but at least I was safe from being abducted by quarterless brigands. Indeed, in at least one instance, this security arrangement saved me from the clutches of the fearsome Mothman. It was largely his own fault, though, since he informed me well in advance that he had me in his sights. Anyway, this modicum of security allowed me a fitful sleep, though I awoke with a fearful start at the merest suggestion of nearby human activity. So you can imagine I damn near shit myself silly when, upon one such awakening, I saw a human figure crouching right beside my shopping cart, looking right at me.

As it would turn out, there was no call for a silly shitting of the self. This human was Stephanie. I don't know what it was about her that made me trust her, but she was able to coax me out of my self made prison, promising to take me on a tour of downtown and show me safe places, safe people, and other essentials. As we walked about, I was amazed at how beautiful she appeared in the street lamp light, and not just by street person standards. She possessed thick volumes of luxurious red hair and tits so large and firm I thought I was looking through 3-D glasses. They just jump right out at you! But I guess you've got to be like that to charge a hundred and a half for a blow job.

I was equally amazed her ability to frankly discuss the various traumas and tragedies she'd suffered throughout her life, her unfortunate decision to turn to drugs as a coping method, which then became an expensive addiction that only prostitution can support. Despite all this, she still possessed a well developed sense of right and wrong and a respect for the priciples of humanity.

I encountered her several times during my sojourn on the streets. I always looked forward to our next meeting, though I must admit it was notjust because I'd come to regard her as a true friend, which I had, but also because of powerful visions of those giant boobs squished against my cock with some kind of friction involved. I very, very much wanted these visions to come true, though they never did. Truthfully, I wasn't that disappointed because I wasn't that suprised, since street level hygiene is generally rather poor, and I wasn't too keen on having any smelly or hairy secrets uncovered.

Anyway, the time finally came when I'd gotten my act together and was preparing to return to society; I had cobbled together enough money to afford a small apartment. Though my furnishings were nothing but milk crates and stacks of newspapers, it was a place to start. A week of indoor living went by before I saw her again. I told her where I had been and wasn't all that suprised when she said "Can I come home with you?"

So now another month has gone by and we've been living together the whole time. Our bed is just a big pile of our dirty clothes, so basically the closer it gets to laundry day, the better our sleeps are. But still there is no fucking at all. I sort of anticipated that she would assume that would be her "rent". Unfortunately, I think what might have happened is that I decided to be a friend first, because it seemed to me that's what she really needed, and she must have figured that out. She knows I won't try to take advantage of her and is making me pay for my faux nobility. I still think a good friend is what she really needs, so I guess the greater good is being served this way. I dunno. It's pretty frustrating at times, especially when she comes home way late at night and you wonder how many cocks did she suck while she was out, and you're still getting a gleam in your eye every time you spy an empty bottle.

However, I have manipulated those big tits in just about every way my hands can think of. She doesn't seem very interested in this so it gets kind of boring. I guess I just can't think of enough ways to keep it interesting, perhaps for either of us. Sometimes when she's sleeping, though, I find her body makes a great "playset" for action figures. You haven't seen nothing until you've seen Nute Gunray command a legion of battle droids from atop mammary mound, or seen Greedo off on his fateful, final entry into the Mos Eisley Cuntina.

So that's basically the current state of affairs. I guess I don't have too much to complain about. The worst part really is the crack smoke. It stinks! But too much of this went into establishing background, so I'll expand on the rest some other time.