Humpday Story: Charging Her by the Hour

Charging-Her-by-the-Hour-GenericThree hours, seven minutes, forty-seven seconds. Favor for a favor.

Allan came prepared to give Bethany what she needs. He’d do anything for her, his best friend, two steps short of being his girlfriend. But now, sitting in her living room, her breasts practically falling out of her tank top, the moment of truth arrives.

Anything. But for writing Bethany’s college term paper, Allan won’t work for free. He knows exactly how much time he put into the paper, and how much time she owes him.

Three hours, seven minutes, forty-seven seconds.

***

CHARGING HER BY THE HOUR

The Time

“Three hours, seven minutes, forty-seven seconds,” I said.

Bethany shook her head, eyes round as dinner plates, long blond locks of hair partly concealing her face. She wore no makeup tonight. All natural, lightly tanned skin, the way God intended. 

She clutched a foo-foo, frilly purple pillow to her stomach, and sunk lower in the beer-stained green couch, as if she could hide there. Her bare red polished toes curled into the shaggy puce colored carpet. The pillow perfectly lifted her breasts up, barely popping them over the top of her low-cut, white tank top. Her legs were clad in red flannel pajamas, and clasped together tighter than a miser’s fist.

Ten years younger than me, an engineering major, smartest girl I’ve ever met, and cute as hell. Bethany was everything I wanted in a female friend. Funny in a dorky way, serious in a way that made me think, classy in that she wouldn’t cheat on her boyfriend even though he didn’t deserve her.

Lucky for me, he left her for some bimbo on the west coast.

But I’d never had sex with a co-worker, and I hadn’t intended to start with Bethany. I worked with her at Betty’s Stackhouse for over a year. She was a waitress, I was a line-cook. Naturally, we bantered a lot. And one day, as if by magic, the bantering kept going long after we punched out and headed down the street for a late night ice cream treat.

After that, she was my best friend, two steps short of a girlfriend. I wasn’t holding out hope, but a man could have dreams.

“Allan?” she said. “Three hours…”

“Seven minutes, forty-seven seconds,” I said.

Bethany opened and closed her mouth several times, as if she’d forgotten how to speak. I don’t blame her. I played it cool, leaning back in the soft leather recliner across from her, feet kicked up and hands behind my head. I wore a plain green t-shirt with torn up jeans and black socks. Clean, showered and shaved, ready for anything. But I knew she needed some time.

And the answer could well be no.

Last week, Bethany had been agitated all day at work. Annoyed and snappy, something was clearly wrong. Finally on the walk to her apartment after our shift, after midnight, she confided to me what was wrong.

“I have a twenty-five page term paper due,” she had said, zipping up her jacket to her chin and hugging herself tight. “In five days.”

I patted her on the back. Well, a little lower on the back than what I should’ve. She needed comfort, I supposed. “Shucks,” I had said. “Baby, you can do that.”

“No I can’t! This is too much.”

“What’s the paper about?”

“Greek mythology. I hate this shit. Give me another math class, god-fucking-damnit!”

I tried my best to calm her down. Did no good, she was truly worried sick. Apparently, if she flunked her Poetry for Math Majors class, she was toast. I gave her some pointers on how to write fast, and the high points of Greek mythology, one of my favorite subjects.

Her eyes lit up. Not because I was intellectually stimulating her, unfortunately.

“Allan! Baby,” she said, in a sweet voice that was a tad more sexy than she probably realized. “You, you’re good at this shit. Fast writing and mythology and shit. Write my paper. I’ll pay you.”

“You’re a broke ass college student,” I said.

Bethany wrapped her arm around my elbow. I could feel the tip of her boob against my biceps. She told me she’d pay me one way or the other. That she was good for it. She’d do anything.

“Anything?” I repeated.

She nodded quickly, eager to strike a deal.

“I charge by the hour,” I said.

She held me closer, jabbing her breast into me. I could smell her perfume, mingled with the damned greasy restaurant odors.

I stopped walking, and pulled her to the nearest alley, hands on her shoulders. “How good are you at sucking cock?”

I was prepared to wink and say something along the lines of just kidding. She surprised me with a quick response. “Very good,” she said, face serious and determined.

“Good,” I said. “For every hour I spend writing your term paper, you have to give me one hour of sexual pleasure.”

Bethany hesitated, but I saw desire in her eyes. And curiosity. “Deal,” she said, and shook my hand over it.

Now, here we were in her apartment living room. The term paper was sealed in a manila folder, in my hand and ready to turn over to her.

Three hours. Seven minutes. Forty-seven seconds.

I wasn’t going to hold her to this deal. But Bethany was paying for her term paper somehow. A month of ice cream would do. Or letting me pick what films to watch on movie night. Whatever. I waited for her to decide what to do.

Bethany tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, and set the foo-foo pillow aside. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, breasts practically falling out of her top.

“You sure about this?” she said.

I snorted with laughter. “Are you?”

She shrugged, eyes cast downward, and looked at me through her lashes. “There’s a reason my ex left me.”

“I thought you dumped him?”

“I wish,” she sat back in the sofa, relaxing a bit, but also denying me the lovely view I enjoyed so much. “I should’ve. But that’s not why he left the state.”

“Oh?”

“I… well, let’s say, he didn’t care for what I did to him in bed.”

“Did you bite his dick off?” I joked, but the joke didn’t go over very well. Bethany blushed bright red, all the way down her chest and arms. She sat silent for a long, awkward moment.

“You could say that,” she said at last.

It was my turn to be silent. I tried not to laugh, because I didn’t know if she was being funny or not. Bethany seemed dead serious. I planted an elbow on the recliner’s armrest, and my chin on my fist, and waited for her to say something more.

At last, she did. “I’m a little freak. Aggressive. And well,” Bethany held up her pinky finger, “the ex was a little man. But he wasn’t my first, you know. My second, actually. Both guys, multiple times, I attacked them whenever they’d whip it out. Like the smell drove me crazy or something. Had nothing to do with size, really. One little, one big. And both guys couldn’t handle my… my…”

“Libido?” I offered.

“Yeah. They freaked out every time. Like I was mugging them or something.”

That was intriguing. I had always wondered what Bethany was like under the covers. She was a feisty waitress, and never took any shit from the other staff. To see her so vulnerable was a bit of a turn on.

“Sounds like they wanted to control you,” I said. “And they weren’t man enough for you.”

“Maybe.” Bethany shrugged a shoulder. So innocent seeming. And to think she was a freak in the sack. 

Too late, I had to know, to discover for myself one way or the other. I sprang an erection, and had to raise up my knees to hide the teepee.

“Part of making love,” I said, “is learning about the other person. What makes each other tick.”

“But you’re such a nice guy,” she said. “My best friend, really. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“You don’t know what I’m like in bed. Yet.”

That got her to smile. Again, so innocent on the surface. I wanted to break that surface, and bring out the freaky side in her. I couldn’t wait any longer. Couldn’t hold back. I stood up. Bethany’s eyes glanced down to my erection poking through my jeans, just a quick look before lazily drifting back up my body. I went to the sofa, and crouched down in front of her.

I pulled out my cell phone, and opened up the timer app. “I’ll set it for only three hours,” I said, secretly setting it for the full quoted time it took me to write her term paper. I set the phone face down on the coffee table.

Bethany opened her legs wide open for me, without hesitation. Yes, she played cute and innocent, but she knew what to do. I helped her out of her flannel bottoms, and tossed them aside. She smelled girly, fresh with a lavender soap hint. She wore blue panties with a cute bow in the front.

I kissed her thighs, one by one, leaving little pecks to warm her up. Bethany moaned, and slouched into the sofa, arms behind her head. I teased her, working my way north but never getting there.

And then, suddenly, she clutched the back of my hair, bucking her hips to my mouth. She pressed my face into her pussy.

“Tongue fuck me,” she groaned.

I knew I was in trouble.

And the Place

I must’ve licked her for an hour. Bethany didn’t let me go, clutching me close to her soaked blue panties. Not like I would’ve complained if I could’ve. I drowned in her girl smells, and I didn’t want air. Didn’t need air. Not when she moaned and bucked her hips at me, scraping the soft silk panties across my lips.

Bethany had a bill to pay, though, and I was collecting. She was strong, but not enough to hold me down on her pussy all night. I broke away, savoring the hurt desire in her eyes, the way she begged for more without saying a word.

I stood up, unzipping my jeans and kicking my socks off. Slow motions, I kept telling myself, make it last a little while. Make her want it even more. Bethany grabbed the TV remote, and turned on a random station. And then cranked up the volume, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, low enough to enjoy each other’s breathing.

She batted her lashes at me, eyes half closed, waiting. When my jeans hit the floor, she sprang into action.

Bethany grabbed the front of my black cotton boxers, along with my junk, and yanked down.

I retreated backwards, cock suddenly limp, a little afraid.

She drew in a breath. And then clutched my meat in a fist and pulled me back to her. Bethany didn’t bother being gentle, like I had been when licking her panties. All business now, she lifted my shaft and dove straight for the nads.

A quick, painful tug with her fist, and then she sucked them in one at a time. I’d never been stupid enough to masturbate with a vacuum, but what Bethany was doing made me think of that kind of suction. Her mouth was the ideal vacuum, just enough to wonder if I’d lose my balls, but not so much I was worried.

I put a hand on her head, stroked her hair. Bethany grabbed my wrist, and held my hand away while she kept sucking and tugging on my sack.

To my surprise, I got hard again. If she just stroked me a little while brutalizing my balls, I might’ve blown a load over the top of her head. I’d never known a woman this rough, and I never would’ve guessed I’d like it so damn much.

Then she spit my balls out, and looked up at me, not so innocent now. I knew better than to think of Bethany as innocent or sweet. She was neither.

Bethany stroked up my shaft, all seven inches to the tip, all the while maintaining eye contact with me.

For the first time, now that she was letting up on me, I wondered what the fuck I’d gotten myself into. Was she the one paying the price for the term paper?

Or was I the one in debt?

“You want me to stop?” Bethany said, sultry and course, like she needed a glass of water.

“No,” I muttered like a man beaten to an inch of his life.

She smacked my shaft. Once, twice. Bethany bit her bottom lip, and then asked me the same question. I clarified with a stronger no, fuck no, please don’t stop. She buried my bone in her throat, all of it at once, gagging on it. The ferocity made me spasm. The beginning of an orgasm threatened to blow. My incoherent pleading must have gotten her attention.

Because she stopped again. And let me take a breath. I took off my shirt.

Bethany kissed around my cock, up my stomach. Such soft, easy touches. Enough to remind me she was making love to me, not nearly enough to let me come. She raised herself to her feet, I helped her with my hands on her elbows.

Then she wrapped her arms around my neck. The kiss on my lips tasted salty. I must be oozing precum. Bethany shook her hips, barely touching me with her stomach. Her breasts poked me, the warm fabric of her bra titillating me. I reached around back with one hand, and snapped the clasp. She needed no urging. The bra might’ve slipped off on it’s own. I tossed it aside for her.

And then I yanked her panties to her ankles.

I had to push her away for a moment, to view the entire package. She was everything I imagined for so long. Pussy hair trimmed into a neat triangle. Round, beautiful hips. Muscular abs. Tapered waist. Firm boobs with perky pink nipples.

Heaven can wait, as long there’s women like Bethany on Earth. A little piece of me died, gawking at her lovely body.

She twisted my nipples, hard, fingernails pressing into my flesh. I winced, more for her amusement than in actual pain. And then she kissed me, even harder now. Our tongues mingled. My lips hurt.

Bethany broke contact, a wild expression in her eyes. She motioned me to sit on the sofa. No use arguing with the lady. She gave me a little push on the way down, just to prove her dominance.

She straddled me, my cock pulsing in her hand. With her other hand, she clutched a fistful of my hair. 

And just very, oh-so slowly stroked me.

I whimpered. No other way to say it. So close, and it was all I could do to keep my jism in. Bethany glared at me.

“You better have brought a condom,” she said. Her bitchy tone made my cock twitch.

“In the envelope with your paper,” I said. I put it there on purpose, because I expected her to say no, and slipping the condom in there was my goofy way of saying I was still interested in her. Now I was reconsidering that decision.

“Oh?” she said, matter-of-factly. Bethany slipped off my lap, feather-light, and strutted to the envelope. She ripped open the seal and shook out the contents. The condom fell to her feet. She held the paper out, as if reading it. “Foolish man. I certainly got what I wanted.”

I wanted to slip my hand around my dick, and rub out my juices. Needed to. But I wanted her to finish me off, if she would.

 I hoped she wanted to.

“Wanna make a deal?” I said. “I’ll write your next paper, if you just let me come.”

So weak, more than a tad desperate, and I knew it. So did Bethany.

“I don’t want you to come,” she said.

“Evil woman.”

Bethany picked up the condom, and then straddled me again. Lips close to my ear, she whispered, “I want you to beg.”

She slipped off my lap, onto the couch cushion on her knees, with her ass straight up in the air. Bethany cupped my balls, and swallowed my rod to the hilt. Teeth scraping my skin, just enough pressure to feel it. Wet, sloppy noises. Hot drool.

I gripped the armrest white-knuckle tight. No woman ever got me this far to the edge without giving me an orgasm. Bethany knew what she was doing, and played me like a fiddle. I would’ve sold my soul for her to keep blowing me just like this for the rest of the night.

And then she spat my cock out.

“I want it,” I muttered.

“What do you want?” Bethany said.

“To come.”

“Is that so?” She kissed the swollen tip of my cock.

“Please, I want to be inside you.”

She laughed. My skin was hot, sweaty, worked up to the boiling point. I couldn’t stand up if I wanted to, my legs felt like rubber.

“Is my mouth not enough for you, little man?” she said.

I shook my head, pleading with her to give me what I wanted. I loved this game of hers, and hoped I played my role good enough.

“Well, then, let’s see what we can do,” Bethany said. She took the condom, and ripped the package open with her teeth. She spit on my shaft, as if it needed more lubricant, and then slipped the rubber over my head, rolling it down my pole ever so slow.

Then Bethany climbed on top of me. Shaking her hips, she kissed me rough on the lips, down my neck. And bit me. A tender love bite, more slobber than teeth.

She reached around behind her, and helped me slip inside her gates. Warm juices flowed down my shaft, as if somebody were pouring a cup of hot water over my junk. Inside, she was hot and tight, just the way I hoped. Bethany squeezed her pussy muscles on me, and gyrated on me for a long, agonizing time.

I shoved myself deeper in her, trying to force a rhythm on her that would allow me to blow my load. But she clamped down on my chest and gave me a dirty, slutty look. When I tried again to take control, Bethany twisted both of my nipples. Hard. I let her have her way with me.

Faster, dirtier. She kept gyrating, hardly ever bouncing up and down. The smell of wet pussy was intoxicating. Bethany twisted me around so hard, I was tender and felt ready to break.

And then, suddenly, she threw her head back and screamed in passion. Bethany’s boobs bounced and jiggled. Her pussy spat me out.

A gush of hot squirt hit me all over, as if hit by the shower spray. The couch was entirely ruined. Now the smell was more than just intoxicating, it was ever present. All consuming.

Bethany rubbed her hands up and down my wet chest and stomach, as if to rub her essence into me. “I suppose you want to come, too?” she said.

“Please,” I said. “Very much.”

She smirked, a dirty and playful expression that began with her red pouty lips and ended with the crinkle in her slitted eyes. Bethany reached between her thighs, and pushed my cock head back in. Her body shuddered as she did so, and she let out a long toe curling moan.

Hands on my collarbones, she slid down the rest of the way. And then she pumped me. Slow at first. Building momentum. Skin slapped skin. Titties bouncing in my face.

“Come on, baby,” Bethany said.

She tilted her head back and screamed like a well practiced porno actress. Whether she was faking it or not, didn’t matter to my stick. I could feel the orgasm long before it hit. Like a sore spot between my balls.

The spot spread. Warmth covered my body like a blanket. Bethany fucked me harder. Rougher than I’d ever been taken. She screamed again, head banging. Blond hair covered her face. Then I felt the orgasm in the bottom of my cock, as if it were riding the slow elevator up to the penthouse.

I grabbed her hips. Smacked her ass cheeks with both hands. Bethany responded by pounding me harder into the couch. Faster. No mercy.

My groin burned with sinfully pleasant pain. Then I erupted like a fountain inside the condom. Inside Bethany. My moans became a scream that mingled with the sexy sounds Bethany made.

After I came down, she rolled off me, my dick hurting as it popped out of her snatch. Bethany cuddled in the crook of my arm. I must’ve nodded off, because the next thing I knew, I was woken up by my cell phone alarm.

“Shit,” I said. “You didn’t pay for all my time.”

Bethany kissed me on the chest. “We’ve got all night. Unless you’re going somewhere.”

I decided I had nowhere else to be.

She slunk down to my lap, and got me hard all over again.

Epilogue

After the semester ended, Bethany chose not to take a summer vacation. She decided she had to work, to pay for books. Plus she had a sweet internship at one of the local engineering and architecture offices.

In her spare time, I fucked her to exhaustion. If we weren’t eating or watching a movie, we were making passionate love.

One night, over a bottle of too much moonshine, she wrapped her arms around my neck. We were in her bed together. The candlelight made her eyes dilated. Her apartment smelled of cherry blossom scented wax, mixed in with both of our love fluids. I was sore as hell, as if I’d just spent the entire day at the gym. My thighs hurt from pumping her doggy-style. My arms hurt from holding her down, trying to control her.

Bethany kissed me. Just a meeting of lips, gentle and smooth. Her body was warm pressed up against mine. I fondled one of her nipples, and kissed her back.

She broke away. “I have a confession to make.”

I propped up on my elbow, and told her she could tell me anything.

Bethany cleared her throat. “I think I love you.”

I touched her on the cheek, and stroked her face.

“I love you, too, baby,” I said.

From then on, Bethany no longer owed me. I owed her.

***

Copyright © 2018 Hermit Muse Publishing

Cover Image © coka/BigStock Photo

Thank you for reading! If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer. Or feel free to leave a tip with the PayPal button below.



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Author: D. Anthony Brown

Writer of speculative fiction.

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