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  Jennifer Needs a Job © 2014 by Huck Pilgrim

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

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  Jennifer Needs a Job

  Huck Pilgrim

  Copyright 2014 by Huck Pilgrim

  Smashwords Edition

  First Edition

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Contents

  Jennifer Needs a Job

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  Introduction

  An inexperienced girl is welcomed into the adult world of paying the rent.

  Jennifer is eighteen. She smokes cigarettes. She likes to sleep in until late morning and then spend her afternoons watching TV. It seems like she has been fighting with her mother forever, but ever since Jennifer graduated from high school, the fights have been getting worse. Mom wants Jennifer to get a job. It's not an unreasonable request, but Jennifer knows the jobs for girls her age suck. Fortunately for Jennifer, her next door neighbor Dray has a position in mind for her that she might just like. This "positon" doesn't suck, but Dray insists Jennifer work hard for the money. Will she be able to satisfy his needs? Will she learn to pay her own way? Find out!

  Jennifer Needs a Job

  Jennifer stomped out of her mother's home and flung the heavy door into its frame. It landed with an unsatisfying thud. She reached for the handle, hoping to pull it open and slam it a second time, but the handle wouldn't turn and the door held fast in the jamb. "Fuck me," she hissed. She kicked the bottom panel of the door with her bare foot and felt a sharp pain. Jennifer wanted to cry. Reaching to her pocket for her keys, she realized she was still wearing her sleep shorts. They were short and loose-fitting, made of soft terrycloth, and comfortable as hell. They had no pockets. Her keys were in her bedroom.

  "Fucking bitch," Jennifer spat. She ran her fingers through her long, dirty-blonde hair. She had just made a dramatic exit. She couldn't very well knock on the door now and ask for her keys. Her mom would laugh at her.

  "Fuck you," Jennifer hissed at the door. "I ain't never coming back," she added, raising her voice dramatically. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she hoped to be back on the couch in time for Jerry Springer, just before dinner.

  Jennifer hobbled to the front porch steps. Shielding her eyes from the hot afternoon sun, she plopped down on the top step. Her tan thighs and heavy breasts wobbled. She was an attractive girl and well-proportioned, but if her beauty had a mar, it was that her blossoming body had taken her by surprise. She didn't always know how to carry herself. Her mother would scold her for sitting with her legs too far apart, or her girlfriends would pull back when Jennifer sidled up to them, pressing her chest against their bodies. Reaching inside her bra, Jennifer found a crumpled one dollar bill and a cigarette lighter. She peered between her boobs but there was nothing else. Her cigarettes were probably inside the house with her keys. She could feel the urge for nicotine rising inside her. She put her head in her hands and made a rueful little laugh. She was one desperate bitch. Barefoot. Broke. In need of a Newport.

  The skin on her foot was broken and it was bleeding. Jennifer hobbled to the house next door, feeling certain her neighbor Dray would have a cigarette.

  Jennifer sat on the toilet seat, her head swimming with nicotine. Dray sat on the edge of the tub, dabbing at her foot with a medicated cotton ball. He was her mother's age, and Jennifer liked to watch him play basketball with the neighborhood boys, his muscled back dark and wet with sweat. His gift was a no nonsense posture he carried with ease, and he was often called upon to settle disputes between neighbors throughout the Hoover Home projects. He never laughed at Jennifer.

  Jennifer tapped her ash into the sink basin and Dray affixed an adhesive bandage to her foot. His eyes rose from her foot and lingered on her sleep shorts.

  Jennifer froze.

  His eyes were fixed between her legs. Her face caught fire. Too shocked to move her legs, she felt ashamed for how she was sitting and wished she had put on a different pair of shorts. She lowered her head, her legs still wide apart. The thrill of exposing herself made the warmth in her cheeks spread to her core, and that spreading warmth made it more difficult for her to marshal the nerve to rearrange her legs.

  Dray moved her foot from his lap.

  "You hungry?" he asked.

  In the other room, Jennifer sat at the breakfast bar and Dray fried eggs.

  "Bitch wants me to start paying rent," she said.

  He squinted his eyes skeptically. "You don't pay rent?" he asked.

  "Fuck no," she said. "It's my parent's house."

  He pursed his lips but didn't say anything. He flipped one of the eggs on its head and it sizzled in the pan.

  "It's a fucking dump anyhow," she said.

  He kept his head pointed to the pan, but his eyebrows went up on his forehead.

  "All these places are," she said.

  Dray inhaled deeply but held his tongue.

  He slid the egg out of the pan and onto a slice of toast. He put another piece of toast on top and then slid the plate in front of Jennifer. She tore into the sandwich with gusto. She woke up late, got interested in game shows on TV, and then forgot to make herself breakfast. It was already after lunch.

  "You're an adult and you don't pay no rent?" Dray asked.

  "Dray!" Jennifer said around a mouthful of eggs. Her voice sounded more defensive than she intended. "I just finished high school."

  He looked at her squarely for a seconds.

  She dropped her gaze and bit into her sandwich.

  "Your folks trying to teach you a life lesson," Dray said. "You're no child. Not anymore. Now you an adult. You got to pay the rent like everyone else."

  Jennifer could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She swallowed what was in her mouth and then took another bite of sandwich and dutifully chewed.

  "You have a job?" Dray asked.

  Jennifer drew in her breath. It was the same sort of thing her mother would say to provoke an angry response. Jennifer was about to offer something sarcastic, but then she looked into Dray's face. His head was cocked, and he was looking at her with mild curiosity. She placed what was left of her sandwich on her plate and sighed.

  "No," she whispered. "I don't have a job." She looked at a spot on the counter. "Not yet," she added glumly.

  "Let me ask you this," Dray said. "What kind of work you looking for?"

  ***

  Jennifer knelt with Dray
's fat cock in her mouth.

  She kept her eyes glued to his face as she massaged his veiny shaft. For reasons she didn't entirely understand, she was making faint mewling noises as she sucked his cock. Soft slobbery noises came from her mouth. She thought he was enjoying what she was doing, but she couldn't be certain. He kept his expression even. He wore the same look of mild curiosity he had in the kitchen when she admitted she had no job.

  "That's right," he whispered. "That's your job, baby. That's your job."

  It pained Jennifer to hear Dray describe what she was doing for him as her job. She mewled even louder and more pitifully, stroking his thick shaft. It pained her but it didn't surprise her. She knew the trajectory of their relationship was changing when he took her mother's back on paying the rent. Jennifer knew she'd lost his favor when she slipped another of his Newports from the pack on the counter, and he gave her one of those skeptical looks. She knew he felt differently as he wordlessly collected her dirty dishes and then moved to the sink to wash them. She knew it as she sat on his couch, smoking his cigarette, and watching Judge Judy on TV.

  So when he came into the living room and then stood at the arm of the couch, she knew he expected something from her, even if she wasn't sure exactly what. More than anything else, she wanted to make him happy. Win back his support. He opened his fly and fished out his hard cock, and that's when Jennifer first began to mewl. She knew sucking a cock wasn't a respectable job for a girl with a high school diploma. She whimpered softly and bit her lower lip. He stood there with his hands on his hips, his cock pointed at her like an accusing finger. He wore a look of measured expectation on his face. What else could she do? All the respectable jobs for girls her age were terrible. She could clean houses or deep-fry potatoes. She climbed up onto the couch on her hands and knees and then crawled toward him, mewling all the way.

  "Let's go deep," he whispered.

  Deep? Jennifer's eyes widened. Her soft mewls on his cock turned to full-fledged whines of alarm. He ignored her. Holding her head fast, he pressed the head of his cock to the back of her throat. Despite her fears, Jennifer still wanted to do a good job, but there were forces at work here that were beyond her control.

  She gagged.

  She coughed and sputtered around the fat cock in her mouth.

  He stopped pressing his cock forward, giving her a moment to get control of herself. She felt the tears welling in her eyes. She knew her mascara was running down her pink round cheeks. Hoping to win his sympathy, she gave him her most pitiful look.

  He gave her a wolfish smile. "You got to work hard for the money, baby."

  Jennifer felt a stab of alarm in her chest. Surely there was some way to please him that didn't involve letting him fuck her throat. She took his cock from her mouth and greedily nuzzled his ball sack. She slobbered on his hairy scrotum, drawing each ball into her mouth with a loud smack. Looking up at him hopefully, she used the flat of her tongue like a cat.

  Dray unfastened his belt. He opened his pants and let them fall to the floor in a heap. Unbuttoning his shirt, he tossed it on the floor, too. He was muscular and almost hairless, except for a thick bush between his legs. His wet cock throbbed and swayed.

  Jennifer hadn't intended to fuck him.

  Raising her knees to her chin, she burrowed her bottom into the couch, whining and screwing her eyes shut. His hands went to her knees, easily prying her legs apart. She felt his fingers slip under the inseam of her shorts. Squirming with all her might, she tried to twist out of his grasp, but his body was already wedged between her legs.

  "Oh, please," she begged. "Please."

  She felt his tongue touch the hot spot between her legs, and she melted into a puddle on the couch. Dray was on his knees before her, his head buried between her thighs. She relaxed her legs, slipping her bottom to the edge of the sofa. Her whining turned into satisfied moans. Jennifer raised her shirt high on her chest and palmed both her meaty breasts. "Dray," she hissed. He was fucking her with three fingers, his tongue darting about on her swollen clit. She raised her ass off the couch, clamped her thighs on Dray's head, and came all in a great rush.

  He gave her a few minutes to recover on the couch. She felt grateful for the time to regain her composure. "Dray," she whispered, her voice thick with afterglow. "That was amazing."

  He stood smiling at her, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

  "We ain't done yet, baby," he said. He set the glass on the coffee table, his swollen cock bobbing between his legs.

  He took the waistband of her shorts in his hands, and she raised her ass, so he could tug them down her legs. He held up her pink panties and grinned. He mounted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He whispered in her ear that he liked white girls and pink lace. She raised her shirt to her chin so her nipples could rub on his chest. Her orgasm had left her drained, but it was pleasant to lay there and receive his thrusts. She thought that she would get her mother to buy her a dozen more panties made of different kinds of pink lace. She ran her fingers down the small of his back.

  "You want the job, baby?" he whispered.

  "Dray," she said. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "Don't do me like that."

  He snorted laughter. He moved his hips slowly, giving her long even strokes. He took her breasts gently in his big palms. She could feel her passion rising.

  "You don't want the job?" he asked.

  She didn't know how to answer.

  He moved his hips and she could feel herself getting wetter. "Maybe I should get someone else?" Before she could say anything, he gave her a dozen rapid strokes, moving his hips in time with heavy grunts. She pressed her lips together, wrapping her legs tighter around his hips.

  He settled into a slow rolling motion with his hips.

  "I'm gonna get me someone else," he said.

  "Dray!"

  He smiled and ran his hand under her bottom. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. A siren wailed somewhere outside. It got closer and then receded back into the quiet.

  "Yes," she whispered, her answer barely audible.

  He kissed her lips, then licked her chin with the tip of his tongue.

  Unable to look at him, she pointed her head to the wall.

  He took her head in his hands, making her look him in the eye.

  "What do you do?" he asked. "What is the position you hold for me?"

  He fucked her with purpose.

  The couch squeaked with his effort.

  "I'm a whore," she said, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yours."

  He came inside her.

  He tucked his head into the nook of her neck, softly grunting his relief. She felt the initial hot rush of his semen. And then his body stiffened and she couldn't feel anything else, but she knew he was filling her pussy with cream. She had given boys hand jobs, sitting side-by-side in the very last seat of the school bus. Sometimes the cum dribbled out, running down over her knuckles. But then, other times, it would shoot out like a fountain, reaching all the way to the ceiling or splashing the windows. Jennifer imagined Dray's cum gushing like a powerful fire hose, splashing the back walls of her pussy, filling her like a swimming pool.

  He lay on top of her for a few minutes, then roused himself. Jennifer lay there, thinking about all that had happened to her this afternoon.

  "How much your mom want for rent?" he asked.

  Jennifer wanted a cigarette. She felt his cum seeping out of her and onto the cushions. She put her hand between her legs, letting her fingers play in the oily deposit. "Two hundred," she said.

  "Two hundred?" Dray asked with alarm. Fishing in his wallet, he looked at her skeptically.

  "Yep," she said. She sniffed her fingers and grinned. Her mother only wanted fifty, but now that he seemed willing to pay two hundred, Jennifer wished that she'd asked for two hundred and fifty. Or maybe three hundred. A month was a long time and girls had needs.

  "You know she's a bitch," Jennifer said.

  Dray shoo
k his head.

  "I only have one hundred," he said, dropping a handful of bills on the coffee table. He looked her body over appreciatively, and Jennifer felt a warmth from her toes all the way to her head. She wiped her hand on the fabric of the couch and the tugged her shirt down over her breasts. Tucking the money into her bra, she scanned the room for her sleep shorts, and her pink lace panties.

  "You come back tomorrow night," Dray said, smiling at her. "I'll give you some more."

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