Chapter 3

“W-where are you boys taking us?”, Mrs Brown worriedly asked, her timid husband cowering silently at the back seat of our truck. They had been abruptly woken from their sleep, and were still dressed in their nighties.

“Just follow us, lady,” I answered curtly.

They fell silent throughout the journey, afraid we might hurt them if they disobeyed. We had so many lewd plans for the wife, that I began to laugh a little.

I saw Mr Brown looking at me, and when he noticed I was looking back at him he quickly turned his gaze away, not wanting to cause any trouble. such a coward, I thought

EZ, my hispanic childhood friend, drove up to the whorehouse we owned. The couple, looking very worried, walked toward it, hand in hand. Once in, my two other friends, Blue and Kidd, were already waiting. They tossed her some clothing and a pair of red 6-inch stilettos. I also handed Mrs Brown a cosmetics set.

“Twenty minutes is all you’ve got to get dressed, and make yourself pretty,” I ordered the scared wife. “Now go!”

The couple hurried to a room for her to change.

“Where you going Mr Brown? Who said you are to follow?” EZ asked the husband, pulling him by the collar. EZ, with his hispanic heritage and lifts weights often, looked menacing standing beside Mr Brown.

Mr Brown knew he was no match for the ripped kid so he immediately complied.

After few minutes, the 50 year old Mrs Brown finally came out. She was dressed in a truly sexy costume, so sexy I felt she might get arrested if she were to wear it in public.

She looked like a high class mature hooker, only sexier.

The top was made up of a corset-like tube, bight pink in color. Her enormous (and the word enormous is an understatement) breasts were pushed up grotesquely in front of her heaving chest, thanks to the tight corset. Her dark areolas were clearly visible, and we all including her knew there wasn’t enough fabric to tuck her areolas in.

A matching tight pink skirt was also given for her to wear, but it was so short her black panties could easily be seen if she was to take a step forward.

The heels she was wearing made her looked even taller than she already was, like an amazonian woman. But a pump chubby amazonian woman at that.

“Nooo!” cried her husband, who rushed over to his wife and hugged her. The couple certainly didn’t match in terms of looks even though both were around the same age ... Mr Brown was a frail, thin and wrinkled skinny old man, whereas his missus was a tall bombshell, with tits the size of a basketball. I wondered what did she see in Mr Brown when she agreed to marry him.

“Uhh ... boys, uh, I can never go out in this! Please!” Mrs Brown cried, pleading in vain.

“Shut up old slut!” I said. “As you already know, pimping is our business. We ran this whorehouse for years and with the money we make, we gave some to the under privileged people staying in the slums. People that both of you wouldn’t even bother to lift your eyelids at.”

“Wh-what do you want my wife to do?” asked the husband.

EZ the hispanic teen then answered, “Since no one knows we got a new slut, both of you are to follow us, with the lady parading around in the slums tonight. I’m sure all the full blooded males here will want a piece of your wife. The more we earned, the more we can give back to the community. You both are actually doing a good deed.” We laughed at his sarcastic comment.

Both Mr and Mrs Brown hung their mouths open, staring at the four of us in dismay.

As evening fell and the sky darkened across the horizon, the slum awakens. Shops opened, people began to move around aimlessly and not doing anything in particular. Some got around trading drugs, weapons and other vices. Lots of city folks also came, mostly to the seedy bars or whorehouses like the one we ran, and also there were a few bought drugs here for a quick fix.

They brought in good business and the money were circulated in our community. This was how we survived.

As I described in the first chapter, I was born here and knew most, if not all, the hundreds of people here. Different gangs and triad members lived here and they had always go to me for prostitutes.

We brought the couple from one seedy bar to another. We talked business (crime related ones, obviously), met some acquaintances, forging business partners with the city folks etc.

“Hey who’s that mature slut you brought along, Kurt?” Some of them would asked.

“She’s stunning!”

“What’s her rate man? I can’t wait to fuck that tits!”

“I’ll pay you a couple thousand bucks for a night with that lady!”

“Look at jugs guys! I don’t care if it is fake, I just want to bury my face in there!”

“Who’s that man beside her? her husband? You must be kidding, Kurt!”

“What’s her name?”

“I’d screw that milf all day and night if I have the chance!”

“Does she likes big cocks like mine?”

“She does look familiar. She kinda look like the realtor who sold my house last year.”

All these comments were clearly audible to the couple, as they huddled to each other even more.

Mrs Brown held on the her husband’s arms tightly, as close to her heaving chest as she could. They knew all the attention was on them. She looked very uneasy, clad in that sexy outfit in front of so many male perverts, young and old. She kept tugging her skirt down, knowing full well it was useless as her crotch was clearly visible even if she crossed her chunky flabby legs.

Mr Brown did, too. He looked so afraid and stayed close next to her. He clearly hated the fact so many men were ogling and leering at his trophy wife. His face turned red with embarrassment and jealousy.

As we walked from one bar to the other, lots of the locals seemed to focus on my prized slut.

A group of teenagers playing skateboards stopped and stared at the milf who was walking past them, her giant tits bouncing with each step she took.

“Guys, hot milf passing by!” they said, staring at Mrs Brown.

One boy even fished out his mobile and recorded a video of her when she walked past in front of him, getting a good view of her tits and panties when she passed by.

The boy was very brazen as he did this even though her husband was walking right beside her. As I had expected, he didn’t dare to confront the boys and they just kept on walking, pretending not to notice.

We then proceeded to the seediest bar of all, a place called “The Black Snake”. I felt the name suited the patrons here very well indeed.