“What that wife of yours needs is some hard black cock in her cunt,” he said. “Give
her something to think about and make you a lot of dollars. Shit, as pretty as your old
lady is, she’ll make a bundle in no time. You need to put your bitch to work, man.”
“You mean turn tricks?”
“Hell yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. You need money and she’s sitting on a gold
mine. I know a lot of brothers who’d love to have some of that white pussy.”
“Be some damned good money,” the other man chimed in. “No question about it. If my
old lady wasn’t so dead-set on giving it away, I’d turn her out.”
I suppose this conversation needs some explanation. My name is Samuel Coats, Jr.
Sammy since there were already several Sams and Samuels in the family when I came along. I
had a normal childhood I guess. Nothing special. Grew up, went to school and finally went
to work as a carpenter’s apprentice for a big company. I worked hard and finally became a
journeyman carpenter.
While all this was going on I met a great girl and got married after the prescribed
year of courtship. More like a year of lover’s nuts or raging blue balls. In the course
of time Linda and I married and I finally got some. She did anything I wanted to do. If
it had something to do with sex, she was willing.
Also in the course of time Linda and I bought a house and that’s what caused a lot
of my problems. We bought a house that demanded both of our incomes to afford. Our plan
was to buy the house and hold on to it for a while and turn it over to make a lot of
money. By the time we figured we had bit off more than we could chew the bottom fell out
of the real estate market and we couldn’t sell the big fucking monstrous house without
taking a major loss on it.
I’m going to make a long, sad story shorter and just say things went from bad to
worse in a heartbeat. My company went belly-up and I was out of a job. The union helped
some and I was also able to draw unemployment compensation but it wasn’t enough to keep a
roof over our heads so I went out looking for work.
I wasn’t expecting a cushy union position like I used to have and that’s a good
thing because I damned sure didn’t find one. No one was hiring and it wasn’t long before I
found myself on a street corner with a bunch of other out-of-work men. Men who would take
any job that would put food on their table. Most of the men were Hispanics of one
persuasion or another. There were also a few black men vying for work. Twenty or thirty
hungry men all trying to get the half dozen jobs that came up.
It was a few days after I started hanging around Short Street that I learned about
labor contractors. Labor contractors are the scum that know where someone is located that
needs some trees cut, a fence built, a house built, or any kind of labor. The contractors
will come and select the laborer and take them to the job site. Later the contractor
collects the day’s wages and keeps anywhere from one half to one third of the pay.
It boils down to the question of do you want one hundred percent of nothing or
fifty percent of something. Most, including me, elected to take whatever we could get. I
noticed that two men showed up for work consistently. One white and one black.
The white guy, Jerry Davis, was a man about forty years old. The black man was
called Clint and he was about twenty-five but that was only a guess. That put me in the
middle of the age spectrum at thirty-one.
One morning all three of us were picked to work on the same project. It was an
older apartment that someone was remodeling. All three of us worked our asses off to
impress the project manager. It looked like a lot of work to be had there because it was a
five-story building with a lot of apartments to be upgraded.
Apparently, Jerry and Clint also saw the potential so all three of us worked like
galley slaves and we were invited back the next morning. That was a good thing because we
could eliminate the labor contractor and pocked all the wages ourselves.
That conversation was held on the third day of our work. That was when Linda
visited the work site to bring the lunch I forgot to bring with me. Linda’s visit got a
lot of attention because she is one lovely chick. Since Linda works at home transcribing
medical records she could take the time to bring my lunch.
Linda is a couple years younger than I am and actually looks more like a teenager
than a grown woman looks. A well built teenager. She has thirty-six C boobs and a perfect
ass. If you want a visual image of her think a young Goldie Hawn with large tits. She
keeps her natural blond hair about shoulder length and on that day she had it in a
ponytail. She wore a pair of tight shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt that really showed
off her figure. All the eyes in the building tracked her coming and going.
“You are kidding aren’t you, Jerry?” I said. It was a short while later while we
were on a lunch break. “I mean about making your wife into a prostitute.”
“No I ain’t kidding at all,” Jerry said. “Look, boy, you can’t wear the damned
thing out. Them pussies last a lifetime.” He laughed at his poor joke.
“Looks ain’t all that important,” Clint opined. “A good whore has a good attitude.
A great whore has a good attitude and loves her work. Getting your wife to go to work
would sure take the pressure off you, Sammy.”
“I don’t think Linda would take to that idea, boys,” I said. That was a gross
understatement. Linda, who kept her legs closed until I said “I do”, wasn’t about to fuck
for dollars.
“Maybe not,” Clint said. “But a buddy of mine turned his wife out and now they both
are retired and living in Key West, Florida. She brought in over two grand a week and only
worked her ass part-time. Shit Sammy, that gal didn’t look anywhere as good as your wife.
Your old lady could knock down that much a night.”
“Two Thousand dollars a night? You got to be kidding!” I said. “Just for fucking?”
I couldn’t believe anyone would pay that much money for sex.
“Naw, to get that kind of money she’d have to do it all,” Clint said wadding up the
wrapper his sandwich was in. “I’m getting damned tired of baloney. Maybe a couple more
weeks working here and I can afford…” He paused and looked off before finishing his
statement. “Something else besides baloney.”
“What do you mean, do it all?” I asked the black man. We three agreed to make our
break for lunch shorter than the other workers and make ourselves look better. We were
headed back to the apartment where we were assigned to work.
“You got to remember that when a brother can afford store-bought pussy he don’t
want to cut no corners. If he’s forking out two grand you got to bet he’s goina want two
grand worth of gash. He’s goina want some head, pussy, and ass. He goina want to have
total control and therefore he can share his high priced pussy with anybody he wants to.
The hooker got to be up for all that. Sucking, getting her ass poked, taking on a couple
brothers and maybe even doing a double dickin’.”
“I got some videos if you want to see what Clint is talking about,” Jerry said.
“I’ll bring you some tomorrow.”
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