CH 3: Life at Home

A week later, Lila was back in the locker room, stripping out of her Pleazure Express uniform with the same mechanical efficiency as always. The air was thick with heat and humidity, the aftermath of a dozen girls fresh off their shifts, rinsing off sweat and cum in the open showers.

Her shift had gone as usual—a steady stream of clients, a handful of regulars, a couple of new faces—though she’d managed to rack up a few extra tips, thanks to the specials they were running. Some midweek promotional deal meant more customers had opted for add-ons, eager to squeeze a little extra out of their visit for a discounted price.

The locker room buzzed with conversation. The girls chattered around her, sharing stories, gossip, laughing about the weird requests they got that night. Someone complained about a customer who wouldn’t shut up during a blowjob, another giggled about a guy who accidentally called her his wife’s name mid-session. It was the usual post-shift banter—casual, unfiltered, a mix of exhaustion and camaraderie.

Lila stayed quiet, letting their voices flow around her like background noise. She was too tired to join in.

The Cowgirl Special had done a number on her legs.

Every single customer that night had wanted her on top, wanted to watch her work for it—no lazy grinding, no leaning back, no shortcuts. They wanted her crouched over them, thighs spread wide, knees bent, balancing on the balls of her feet as she bounced up and down on their cocks. Deep squats, full strokes, all control in her legs.

The burn had set in long before her shift was over, but she kept going, pushing through the ache, forcing her muscles to obey. Client after client, room after room, she lowered herself onto them again and again, gripping their shoulders, their wrists, their chests, anything to steady herself as she rode them until they finished.

Now, with the shift behind her and the adrenaline gone, the exhaustion hit full force. The ache had settled deep, wrapping around her thighs, burrowing into her calves, her knees, even her lower back. Every step sent a dull throb through her legs, a reminder of just how much strain she had put on them. Hours of movement, hours of pressure.

Although thoroughly lubed, there was also the soreness between her legs from the constant friction, the relentless pace, the sheer number of times she had lowered herself onto another cock, every thrust they had driven into her, stretched herself open and filled so many times, all without much of a break. Her pussy throbbed, reminding her of every thrust, every stroke, every orgasm she had milked from the men that paid for it.

She could still feel the phantom grip of hands on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as men guided her movements, urging her to go faster, harder. Could still hear the low groans, the whispered praises, the sharp gasps when she clenched just right.

Lila stepped out of the showers, the last trails of warm water slipping down her skin as she grabbed a towel from the nearby stack. The locker room air was thick with heat and humidity, with a mix of body wash, shampoo, and lingering exhaustion from the girls finishing their shifts.

She dragged the towel over her body, patting herself dry, the fabric rough against her sore thighs, her arms, the curve of her waist. Every movement reminded her just how much she had worked tonight, the ache settling deep in her muscles. She rolled her shoulders, tilting her head side to side, trying to loosen the stiffness.

Droplets still clung to her skin as she toweled off her legs, wincing slightly when she bent forward. The strain in her calves and lower back was unmistakable, a dull throb that promised to linger well into the morning.

Once dry enough, she threw the towel in the used bin and walked over to her locker locker. Around her, the other girls were still chatting, some undressing, some wrapping up in towels, some stretching out the stiffness in their limbs.

She reached for her locker, pulling on a pair of fresh panties and a loose T-shirt. The thin fabric felt soft against her skin, a welcome change from the lace and straps she had worn all shift, when she wasn’t naked. She pulled on a pair of jeans, wincing slightly as she bent to tug them over her legs, her muscles protesting the movement.

Lila ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the tangles before tying it up in a high ponytail. She grabbed her backpack from the bottom of her locker, checking quickly to make sure her phone and wallet were inside.

Satisfied, Lila slung her bag over one shoulder, adjusting the strap as she made her way toward the exit.

“See you next shift,” she called over her shoulder, offering a small wave to the girls still gathered near the lockers.

A few of them waved back, though most were still engrossed in conversation, laughing, stretching out their sore muscles, or finishing their post-shift routines. Lila didn’t linger. She was already halfway through the door, stepping into the hallway, her mind shifting toward the ride home.

The cool night air hit her immediately, the slight breeze offering relief from the heat of the locker room. Outside, the glow of the neon sign cast shifting pinks and blues onto the pavement, and the distant hum of traffic blended with the occasional automated cab pulling up to the curb.

Her eyes scanned the parking lot, and then she saw him—her dad, waiting in his car, engine idling.

She lifted a hand in a quick wave before making her way over, her steps slightly stiff from the lingering soreness in her legs. As she opened the passenger door and slid inside, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke filled her nose, mixing with the faint remnants of whatever cheap air freshener he had stuck in the vent.

The door clicked shut behind her.

“Hey, kiddo,” her dad greeted, barely glancing over as he took another drag from his cigarette, the glow of the ember briefly illuminating his face in the dim car interior.

Lila buckled her seatbelt, adjusting herself in the seat with a quiet sigh.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Good shift?” he asked, his voice casual as he took another drag from his cigarette.

“Yeah, fine,” Lila shrugged, adjusting her seatbelt and stretching her legs out slightly.

Her dad glanced toward the storefront through the windshield, the neon glow reflecting off the hood of the car.

“Cowgirl Special, huh?” he mused, exhaling smoke out the window. “Must be hell on the knees.”

Lila groaned, tilting her head back against the seat.

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, rubbing her thighs, feeling the deep ache from hours of bouncing on cock after cock, grinding against men who wanted to feel every inch of her, who grabbed her hips and begged her to ride them harder, faster.

“Your pussy has got to be fucked up after all that,” he chuckled to himself. “Bet you made bank, though.” Her dad chuckled, tapping the ash off the tip of his cigarette.

“My pussy is fine, and yes, I did.” Lila rolled her eyes, adjusting herself in her seat.

“That’s my girl.” He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lila smirked, shaking her head. She reached over to turn on the radio, flipping through stations until she found something with a steady beat.

Her dad smirked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music.

“That’s my girl.”

The low hum of the radio filled the car as they cruised down the empty streets, the streetlights flashing past in a blur. The city was quiet this late, the world winding down. Lila stared out the window, her cheek resting against the cool glass, exhaustion settling deep in her bones.

Her Dad was the chatty type, always had been. But never when he picked her up. He understood. After eight hours of listening to men grunt and moan, she valued the silence. Even her father, for all his rough edges, knew better than to push for conversation.

The ember of his cigarette flared as he took a long drag, then flicked the smoldering butt out the window. The wind caught it, sending it tumbling into the dark. Without a word, he reached into the center console, grabbing a new cigarette. The lighter sparked, a brief flicker of orange in the dim cabin, and the familiar scent of burning tobacco filled the air.

“You wanna stop and get something to eat?” he asked, tapping the ash out the window.

“Nah, I’m okay,” she said, stretching out her legs. Then, with a dry chuckle, she added, “Just because I had to ride all night doesn’t mean my belly isn’t full of jizz.”

Her father let out a rough laugh, shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

Jesus, kid,” he muttered, exhaling smoke out the window. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“You asked.” Lila shrugged.

“Yeah, but damn,” he said, glancing over at her. “Coulda just said you weren’t hungry like a normal person.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She asked.

He shook his head again, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

“You get that mouth from me, you know.”

“Yeah, but I made it worse.”

“No argument there,” he muttered, flicking more ash out the window. He gave her a side-eye. “You at least drink some water, or is your stomach just straight protein at this point?”

“Hydration’s key. I’m not a rookie.” Lila scoffed.

“Good girl,” he said, nodding approvingly.

“Appreciate the concern, old man.” She grinned, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, reaching over to give her knee a squeeze before returning his focus to the road.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid.”

Lila just smiled.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, the radio murmuring low in the background. The city stretched out beyond the windshield, streetlights casting their golden glow over empty sidewalks, neon signs flickering in the distance.

When they pulled into the driveway, her dad killed the engine and exhaled one last lungful of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. Lila pushed open the door with a tired grunt, her thighs protesting as she swung her legs out of the car and stood up.