"Darling, I'm going out to the garage apartment to meet with Mr. Evans. It's almost eight and you know how prompt the man is."

"He's not your favorite, is he?" the blond teenager replied in sympathy.

"Hardly! He always insists on getting atop me even though he's so large, so fat."

"That's very inconsiderate of him," the pretty young girl remarked as she gathered her books from the dining room table.

"Indeed it is, and I intend to get rid of the boor as soon as can I replace him with another visitor for Tuesdays."

"Do you have any prospects?" the girl asked as she casually reached under her plaid skirt to scratch an itch.

"Actually I do. He's a charming man of about sixty who owns a small machine shop. Smitty introduced him to me."

"Smitty, the love of your life," the girl smirked at her mother.

"Certainly not! He pays like the rest, although it's true that I look forward to his visits. Now go do your homework. I'll be back in a couple of hours as usual."

Emma waited for forty minutes in the elegant flat above her garage that was tasteful in every respect and which had a wet bar for her clients. The porcine Evans did not show, and the woman was pleased, although she regretted the loss of $250. She was also a little irked, as she was whenever a client dropped her. She was somewhat pretty, although she always worried about her smallish breasts. And all the men believed her claim to be just twenty six. Why would the fat man not return, she wondered? He could easily afford her fee.

She rose from the leather chair, turned off the lights and went down the stairs resolved to call Smitty in the morning and arrange a replacement for Tuesdays. What was that old man's name, she mused and then remembered: Donaldson. He seemed to be a sweet man and very neat, a recent widower.

When Emma entered the back door of the house she heard an ungodly racket coming from Becky's room, supposedly music but a universe removed from Bach and Mozart. Because it would be fruitless to shout, the woman climbed the stairs to her daughter's bedroom. Becky lay on the bed surrounded by books, naked except for her panties. She was a lovely sight, Emma acknowledged not for the first time. The sixteen year old could easily pass for fourteen, which in the mother's opinion was something positive, but not so for the daughter, who wanted to pass for eighteen.

Becky clicked off the music, when she saw her mother enter the room.

"No show, Emma? she asked, addressing her mother in the usual manner. To the world Emma was twenty six and the girl's older sister, although she had, in fact, given birth to Becky when she was scarcely fourteen.

"Just as well, I suppose," the woman said as she sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her daughter's slender thigh, feeling its young softness.

"But now we'll have to do without the two fifty," the girl groused, realizing that she would need to wait for that cute dress she wanted her mother to buy her.

"I'll make it up later this month, sweetie," Emma assured her daughter, leaning down and lightly kissing the girl's lips with a hand on an almost mature tit. Mr. Olszewski wants a week end special."

"Oh great!" Becky cried in delight. "Then I can have Alice over for two days!"

"What do you see in that dyke, darling?" Emma asked as she laid beside her daughter. "You aren't really a lesbian, are you?"

"I like the pleasure, Mommy," she replied shyly, addressing Emma as she did when only in bed. "And you won't let me go with boys."

"Of course I won't. Why should you give away your preciousness for free the way I did?"

"But you were raped, Mommy, when you were just a little girl."

"It wasn't actually rape, darling. I must confess that I wanted it, even though I was just eleven. I flaunted my body at Jack, Aunt Sally's late husband. I went into his bedroom one Saturday morning when we were alone in the house clad just in panties, like you are now. But my boobs were smaller than yours. They were just beginning. I was excited when he took me, but perhaps it was rape when he wouldn't stop and kept hurting me with his huge thing, although I cried and pushed at him with my hands."

"So he's my daddy," Becky remarked in disgust.

"He was not a bad man, darling. He was kind, and I came to enjoy doing it with him. We made love together, at least I thought it was love. After a couple of years I got pregnant with you."

A long silent pause ensued as daughter and mother snuggled in an embrace.

"I feel antsy, Mommy." the girl whispered, squirming her lower body against the woman.

"I'll sleep with you tonight, darling."

"How much do you think someone will pay for me, for my first time?" Becky asked as she sat at the kitchen table the next morning finishing her breakfast.

"I'm hoping for a few thousand, dearest, and I want it to be your only time for money."

"That's all right with me, Emma. Guys don't really turn me on."

"Well, you may change your mind, girl," the woman said forcefully, turning from the stove to face her daughter. "Promise me that you'll try it with at least a couple of boys."

"I suppose," the girl replied without enthusiasm

Becky was dressed for school in a plaid skirt and white blouse which revealed calves and arms that were shapely and not skinny. Her blond hair was tied in a pony tail, and her angelic, oval face looked younger than sixteen.

She knew that it would happen before long, that she would go with a man to the garage apartment, a man of her mother's choosing. She knew that it would hurt, but that she would be well paid for the pain. She did not look forward to the ordeal, but she accepted it as inevitable. "It's better to be hurt for money," her mother had always said, "than for a guy's pleasure."

"You'd better hurry, darling," Emma admonished her daughter with a smile. "You'll miss the bus."

The pretty girl, just 60 inches tall, rose from the table and slung her book bag over a shoulder.

"And try to stay away from Alice," her mother said with a wink. "You don't need her to give you pleasure."

Becky left the kitchen and went out the back door. Emma didn't understand, she thought as she walked down the driveway. She loved Alice.

"Mr. Donaldson," Emma spoke into the telephone receiver, "I really enjoyed our lunch the other day. Uh... Smitty said that you might be interested in my services. I have an opening on Tuesdays."

"Why yes, Ms. Geesson," the man replied in a loud voice, the noise of an air compressor roaring in the background. "I'm eager to discuss an arrangement. Perhaps we could meet."

"I'm free today, Mr. Donaldson."

"Splendid, but I can't get away until about three."

Emma gave the man her address and put the phone down very pleased to have snagged a new client. She wondered what his kink would be. She did everything except anal.

Emma watched from the front window as the man got out of his car and walked toward the house. He was of medium height and build, not at all fat, and his face did not look really old; there was a merriness in it, in his smile. She could see a twinkle in his eye. She was pleased with him.

"Mr. Donaldson," she greeted him at the door.

"Ms. Geesson," he replied with a charming smile and entered the house.

"Such a comfortable home," he remarked turning his head to survey the living room.

"It's small but sufficient for my younger sister and me," Emma responded gracefully. "But perhaps you'd like to inspect my garage apartment. I have some refreshments laid out there."

"I'd be most delighted, Ms. Geesson. Smitty has remarked upon that place quite favorably."

"That's so kind of him."

"It's a shame I must wait six entire days to visit you."

"We can visit this afternoon, Mr. Donaldson, if you like: a courtesy for a potential client."

"That's most thoughtful of you, Ms. Geesson; may I call you Emma."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Donaldson -- Jack."

The two of them went to the garage and climbed the stairs to the apartment above.

"This is really very lovely, Emma," the man said, actually impressed by the tastefully furnished quarters.

"Would you care for a drink, Jack? And here are some things to nibble on."

"Perhaps later," he replied with a certain look.

"Yes, later," Emma responded with a touch to the man's cheek.

They kissed and then went through the awkward, tedious banality of disrobing.

Jack stood naked with his impressive member jutting straight out as Emma undid her bra and pushed down her panties.

"You are truly magnificent, Emma," the man gasped. He had not seen a young female body in over forty years. He had been rigorously faithful to his late wife, the only woman he had ever known.

They reclined slowly onto the bed.

"I want to taste you" Emma murmured between kisses, half believing her words. "How long has it been, Jack?"

"Almost two years," the man gasped as the woman's lips slid past his glans and began to suck gently.

But Emma did not tarry there. She knew from long experience what the man needed. She scooted up and straddled his body, sinking hers onto the large cock that filled her pleasantly.

She smiled down at the man's face which looked back in ecstatic amazement.

"Ogle me, darling. Am I young and pretty? Touch these fresh thighs and soft boobs."

"Oh, Christ, I've never seen anyone lovelier" Jack gasped and caressed her flesh. He groaned loudly, when Emma moved a couple of times up and down on his cock.

"You won't last long this time, dearest," she said in a husky voice. "Kiss me and take your pleasure."

Emma leaned down and kissed the man who began to pound in and out of her, quickly bringing himself off with excited noises uttered into her mouth.

Her mind was very alert as they lay beside each other after his orgasm. How would he respond, she wondered, now that his lust had been assuaged by a whore? Would he be disgusted with himself and want to leave immediately? Would he become aloof and distant? Would he get abusive?

"That was so marvelous, Emma," he said and kissed her lips affectionately. "I'm sorry I didn't give you pleasure."

"Perhaps another time, Jack, but understand that I never fake it."

"No, you wouldn't, would you? Tuesdays shall become my most treasured time of the week."

"Do you want to go for it again?" Emma asked, petting the man's cheek, already knowing the answer but wanting to flatter him.

"If I were twenty years younger!" he replied smiling grandly into her face. Then his expression became more serious. "We must mention some awkward, worldly things."

"The fee will be $250 for ninety minutes. If you want more time on Tuesdays or perhaps a week end, we can arrange that. Today we did it just for getting to know each other."

Jack moved lower and sucked on one of Emma's modest tits, and she smiled in satisfaction, fondling his head.

They walked back to the house in good spirits, hand in hand. Becky was sitting in the kitchen eating a jelly sandwich, her book bag on the floor, her plaid skirt hitched above her knees to reveal the pale flesh of her lower thighs.

"Jack," Emma said, disguising the dismay at her daughter's early return from school, "this is my baby sister, Becky."

"She's hardly a baby," the man blurted out, ogling the pretty blond girl.

"Becky, this is Mr. Donaldson."

The girl extended her hand and the man took it, and held it as he gazed with obvious longing into the face of the exquisite young thing.

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Becky," Jack finally choked out, overwhelmed by her beauty, so incredibly fresh.

"How do you do, Mr. Donaldson," she replied in a soprano voice with the lilt of a child.

Emma immediately noticed the affectation, which, however, seemed to have an effect, because Jack appeared to tremble at the sound of it.

"Mr. Donaldson was just leaving. He has a business to look after, one with a lot of noisy machines."

Emma smiled as she spoke, hoping to lighten the moment, but Jack still held Becky's hand and continued to stare into her young face.

"Yes," he said abruptly, letting go of the girl's hand. "I have to get back to the shop."

Emma escorted the man to the front door, but before he left he could not resist turning his head for another look at Becky whose two hands were on her bare thighs, the plaid skirt pushed up provocatively.

"Becky! That was very unkind of you," Emma exclaimed after the front door was closed behind the agitated man.

"He's the one who's going to do me, isn't he?"

"We don't know that yet, girl."

"I'd like him to."

"It's not a matter of like, it's one of readiness to pay. He's a sweet man, but I don't know if he has the money."

"Am I really that precious?"

"Yes, yes, you are."

Emma sat in the leather chair with anticipation, awaiting the arrival of Smitty, who of all her clients was the only one capable of giving her an orgasm. She refused to acknowledge that she was in love with the man, but it was something like that. When she heard a car door shut in the driveway below, she trembled slightly.

The door opened and the large man walked in. He was handsome, graying at the temples, built like a retired football player who had kept in shape. Emma was on her feet immediately and the two of them embraced.

"Have you missed me?" she whispered eagerly, her face pressed to a large shoulder.

"As always, Emma," the man responded sincerely, nuzzling his chin on the top of her light brown hair.

"Can you stay long?"

"Just for an hour or so. I have to be home by eight. The family has a birthday surprise for me."

"Happy birthday, Smitty," Emma gushed like a school girl and raised her face for a kiss.

Theirs was not a normal whore-john relationship, although the man paid his fee. Smitty had a genuine affection for the lovely woman, which was reinforced by Emma's talented willingness to do things in bed that would make his prim, convent educated wife gag in disgust. Still he valued his family, especially his three children, and never once gave the least thought to abandoning them for Emma. The woman understood this in frustrated resignation. She was just a whore, she thought, hardly a homewrecker. They never exchanged love words, although they made up for it in the passion of their physical intimacy.

They were quickly naked and lying on the bed, kissing and pushing their bodies together, eager to begin.

"You may do me in the rear," Emma gasped in excitement.

She had offered this to Smitty many times before. The man knew it was the only physical act she had never experienced, something special, available only to him.

"No, Emma," he replied as he always did. "I could give you no pleasure that way."

"May I taste you," she begged, biting his earlobe in her frenzy, "all the way?"

"Yes, if you want. I'd like that," he replied, knowing the woman's incredible talent, knowing she would swallow all his stuff as a gesture of her affection.

He relaxed on his back and allowed the pretty woman to lick and nibble his flesh. She had sometimes sucked his toes, but this evening she went straight to his impressive cock and took it immediately into her mouth.

Emma brought the man off quickly and indeed she swallowed all his seed, even the last dollop, which she coaxed from his member with a pump of her hand.

"May I use your knee for awhile?" she asked as she had done so often before in such situations, and without a word of assent she straddled the man's leg and rubbed her pussy against his knee until she cried out in orgasm.

For the moment they were sated, but they knew they had some serious, wonderful fucking ahead of them. After some minutes of wordless cuddling, Emma leaned down, took Smitty's flaccid penis into her mouth and sucked it to tumescence. Then she lay on her back, knees high, and received the man between her widely spread legs for an ecstatic session of ten or fifteen minutes during which she almost lost consciousness.

There was still some minutes left for chatting after they had satisfied each other thoroughly. Smitty commented again on one of Emma's most rigid convictions.

"I think that Becky should find a boy and do it in the normal way," he remarked.

"But the boy would be the only one to benefit from that. He would get his pleasure and the girl would be left weeping in pain."

"Not all girls are hurt badly the first time. I remember one who actually enjoyed it before I was finished."

"Even a small pain deserves compensation," Emma insisted.

"But wouldn't you feel badly having an older man do it, a complete stranger? Don't you think that coupling with a boy she knows and perhaps likes would lessen the trauma?"

"It won't be a stranger, Smitty, because she's known you for years and she likes you."