Hand Job Slut Ch 02

Chapter 2: The Quickening

Nancy got home from the store, and climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment, carrying her groceries. She let herself in the door, put down her food, and hung the catcher's mitt in the front window.

In addition to being a college student, Nancy was a hand job slut. She gave hand jobs for twenty dollars. Most Friday and Saturday nights, she gave them in local bars. But when she was home, and not busy studying, she gave them in her living room. She was well known to the horny college guys living in the neighborhood, and they all knew that the catcher's mitt was the signal that she was open for business. Even though Nancy was not particularly attractive, being short and rather plump, with limp blonde hair and a plain face, her hand jobs were very popular.

Before she even got all of her groceries put away, there was a knock on her door. She opened it, and three of her regular customers, all college boys who lived in the same apartment complex with her, were standing on the landing. "Hi, Nancy," one said. "We saw the mitt."

"Come on in," she told them, and ushered them to the beat up sofa in her living room. "Who's first?"

"Me," said Jason, a good looking blond kid, a business major like Nancy. "Do you remember how I like it?"

"Of course," said Nancy. "You like it fast and hard, right?" Jason nodded, enthusiastically. "I have a special suggestion for you today. How about we do it reach-around style?"

"Cool!" said Jason, smiling from ear to ear. He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and handed it to Nancy. He knew her rule: payment up front. "Hey, fellows, you mind waiting outside?" he said to the other two.

Some of Nancy's customers didn't mind other boys in the room while they were getting jerked off. But some preferred a bit of privacy. Nancy didn't much care one way or the other. The other two, Brendan and Ryan, stepped out and waited on the landing. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jason took off his pants and underwear. He slipped them off over his shoes.

Nancy took him by the hand and moved him in front of the full length mirror hanging on the wall. She knew that Jason was very visual and liked to watch. She sat behind him on a foot stool.

"Ready?" she asked, as she reached her right arm around his hip to grasp his already-growing cock. Jason's cock was long and slim, with a flaring head.

"You bet!" said Jason, jumping slightly as Nancy's cool soft hand encircled his pink shaft. She gripped him tightly, just below the rim of his cock head, and started jerking back and forth, quickly. She didn't slide her hand across his skin; she jerked the skin back and forth over the underlying tissues of the raging hard-on, just how he liked it. Jason cooed with pleasure.

After a few strokes, Nancy reached her left hand between Jason's legs, and cupped his balls from underneath. Jason whistled in between his teeth with a start, but didn't complain. He loved it! As Nancy continued her firm, fast stroking on his shaft, she proceeded to gently roll and fondle his testicles with her soft fingers, sliding and jiggling them within their soft, hairy bag of skin.

Jason was loving the treatment, but this was only low-level stimulation. It would never get him off, nor was it intended to. This was just a simple build-up, meat and potatoes cock stroking. Nancy knew that he loved it this way. But eventually, he was going to have to cum. When Nancy decided that the time was right, she lengthened the strokes of her right hand to include the rim of Jason's flaring cock head. She slipped her gripping fist back and forth over the sensitive corona and frenulum of his cock, which multiplied the levels of pleasure sparking through Jason's body. She also increased the pressure on his nut sack, clanging his balls together ever so slightly. As an added bonus, she blew on the crack of his ass; he'd never experienced that before, and it pushed him right over the edge. Rope after rope of think, pearly cum spurted from the eye of his slender cock, onto the wooden floor of the apartment. Nancy kept stroking him until the flow had subsided, and he turned around to face her.

"Thanks, Nancy, that was great. As usual!" he added, grinningly broadly. He grabbed a Kleenex from the handy dispenser on the end table, wiped himself up, and put his pants back on. Then he went back out on the landing to chat with Ryan while Brendan came in.

"Hi Nancy, how you doin'?" he asked, looking at the floor. Brendan was a shy boy, an engineering major, with dark hair and a slightly chubby body. If it wasn't for Nancy, he wouldn't get any sex at all.

"Hi Brendan," said Nancy. "The usual?"

"Yes, please. Slow and tender." Brendan liked to imagine himself with a soft, romantic lover, gently stroking him with loving kindness. He gave Nancy his twenty and dropped his pants to his ankles. Nancy stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes. She knew he liked that.

She held his cock with her fingertips only, with both hands, gently dancing her soft touch along the length of his shaft, as if she were playing a clarinet. Brendan had a short, fat cock, and Nancy could easily stimulate all of it at once. Her tender massage had his cock swelling with blood in no time at all, and pointing upwards. She fluttered and danced her soft, tender fingertips up, down, and around the shaft, she danced them all over the head, she swirled them around his corona as if she was tuning and old-time radio. Her touch was feather-light. She kept staring into his eyes. Brendan sighed and shuddered with pleasure.

She gently stroked the underside of his stumpy shaft with one hand, back and forth along the urethral ridge, while her other hand cupped and polished his taut scrotum. She flicked his frenulum each time she passed it, and gently petted the top of his shaft with her thumb. She stared up into his eyes, which were fixed on her own.

"You have a wonderful cock, Brendan," she was saying in her gentlest voice. "It is so soft and smooth, but so firm and strong at the same time." Her cool soft fingers continue to caress the length of his shaft. "I love to feel it swell in my hand, swell with the depth of your emotions. Some lucky woman will feel this beautiful cock deep in her pussy some day. She'll feel your love for her, and she'll know the meaning of ecstasy as her pussy envelopes your loving cock." Brendan's breath caught in his throat, and he jerked involuntarily as Nancy's hand surrounded his cock head. She gave a gentle swirl all around the corona, and he began to pump spurts of his creamy semen into the palm of her hand. She held it softly but firmly, catching most of the ejaculate within her hand. She held on as he pumped and pumped with his pelvis into her grasp.

As Brendan's cock pumped spurt after spurt of creamy white semen into Nancy's hand, Nancy felt a strange feeling herself, deep in the pit of her body. She had felt it several times before: a hollow, sad, lonely feeling down within her. She knew it to be horniness, but she didn't understand it. She didn't want to have sex with anyone. She hated this feeling. As she held Brendan's pumping cock, capturing his semen in her hand, she squeezed her thighs tightly together, trying to strangle the hollow feeling, to send it back to sleep so that she could forget about it. But she knew that she needed a more drastic treatment than this.

Brendan finally stopped pumping cum out of his cock. He stopped swaying and jerking and began to breathe normally. A sheepish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, Nancy. You're the best!" he said. "It almost sounds like you really mean those nice flowery things you say to me."

Nancy wiped her hands with a tissue, and handed one to Brendan to clean himself up with as well. "Thank you. You're sweet," she told him. "Send in Ryan, will you?"

As Brendan headed out to the landing, Nancy went to the window and took down the catcher's mitt. She didn't want any more clients today. Not until she'd had a chance to ride the hairbrush.

"Hi, Nancy," said Ryan, taking off his pants. "You got my favorite lube?" Ryan liked his hand jobs with lots of lubrication. Nancy kept several brands on hand. Ryan's favorite was Astroglide. Ryan was a jock, a rugged-looking young man with a large cock, and got plenty of sex from the co-eds on campus. But he had no problem buying hand jobs from Nancy on a regular basis, because they were so damn good.

"Yes, I do, Ryan," Nancy told him. "Lie on the sofa." She liked to do her lube clients lying down. It kept the lube from running off onto the floor. Also, the lubed up cocks tended to squirt copious loads of semen, and it was easier to clean it off of their chests and abdomens than the walls.

Ryan was lying on the sofa, ready to go. Nancy sat on the foot stool, even with his groin. She held the bottle of Astroglide over his cock, and drizzled a long bead of it onto him. She kept it on the window sill, in the sun, so that it wouldn't be too cold to apply directly. Otherwise, she would have needed to warm it in her hands first. She watched the long, clear string of viscous fluid flow down onto his cock and run down the dome of the head. She watched it slide down his shaft, and run down onto his balls, becoming lost in the folds of his scrotum. Once she had him good and slick, she put aside the bottle, and placed her flat palms on each side of his erect, vertical shaft.

"Ahhhh....," said Ryan, already stimulated by her slightest touch. She slid her flat hands up and down on his shaft, then forward and backward, and then swirled them all over, rubbing the lube onto every surface of his cock. She grasped his cock with her right hand, in a loose fist, thumb down, and twirled around and around. Ryan quivered from his hips, bucking every time she stroked across his head. As her right hand continued the downward-grasp slide on his shaft, her left hand swirled across the slick lubed surface of his nut sack, smoothing out the wrinkles and stimulating his testicles. Ryan squirmed and gurgled in his throat.

As Nancy felt the slick smooth motion of her hands on Ryan's tender genitals, her own privates started lubing themselves up as well. The hollow ache inside of her had stimulated her pussy, which was getting wetter and wetter by the minute. As she sat there on the foot stool, rubbing his cock and his balls, she squeezed her thighs together, harder and harder, trying desperately to send the hollow feeling back to sleep, if only for long enough to finish up Ryan so that she could take care of herself. She didn't want to short change the poor boy, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it. The hollow, lonely ache was getting very intense.

She put both hands on his shaft, one above the other, both thumbs up, both closed all the way around. This was possible because Ryan had such a long cock, and because Nancy had fairly small hands. She rotated them back and forth, in opposite directions, in time with each other. Ryan gasped and twitched. She slid them up and down along with the rotations, the top hand swirling his sensitive, slick cock head. He began to moan, then to gasp, and then to chant. "Oh Nancy oh Nancy oh Nancy oh...."

Then he shot, a large stream of pearly white cum, straight up in the air, and straight back down onto his belly. Three more shots left the muzzle with escape velocity. The rest bubbled out like a volcano and ran down the sides of his cock. Nancy kept twisting as the creamy white frosting covered her knuckles like a birthday cake. Then she held him motionlessly until his twitching stopped.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Oh God, yes!" said Ryan. They both wiped themselves clean with tissues. Ryan got up and got dressed. "Thanks, Nancy! See you again soon, okay?"

"You bet. Now run along. I have studying to do before my evening out."

As soon as the door slammed behind Ryan, Nancy tore her clothing off frantically, leaving it scattered on the floor as she ran to the bedroom. She flung herself onto her bed, on her back, with her legs spread wide. She grabbed her plastic hairbrush, with the long, round, ridged handle, from its place on her nightstand. She plunged the thick round handle deep into her sopping pussy, and poked and swirled it around and around her insides, as if she was mixing a bowl of cake batter. She let out a long, loud sigh as the brush handle roughly kneaded her pussy walls, releasing the tension that had been building up. She pushed it in, twisted it, rotated, gyrated it, fast and urgent. The tension was being relieved, but the hollow feeling was not. It still needed to be sent back to sleep.

Nancy paused briefly, and pulled the nightstand drawer open. She took out two spring-loaded nipple clamps and attached them to her nipples. Their bite sent waves of stimulation through her body, and helped to fill the hollowness inside of her. She went back to fucking herself with the hair brush, meanwhile pinching and rubbing her clit with her other hand. She pressed her clit hard against her pubic bone, rubbing it and flicking it and abusing it. The hollowness needed to be filled, needed to be drowned, needed to be sent back to sleep.

Her knees were in the air, and her head was thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Her feet were beating the sheet and her hips were bucking. Finally the orgasm that she sought was released, and her body felt like it was melting from the inside. Her knees clenched together involuntarily and her teeth clamped down, her face in a grimace. She sobbed through gritted teeth, her body motionless, for several minutes.

When the waves of heat and the paralysis subsided, she felt almost normal. The hollowness was asleep. She would be okay. She fell asleep and dreamed that she was riding a giant hairbrush, the size of a horse, across a field of grass and clover, while the sun beat down on her bare shoulders.

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Nancy woke up around dinner time. It was Saturday afternoon, and she had plans for the evening. She wanted to check out the new yuppie bar that had opened up near campus. She had a feeling it would be a good place to ply her hand job trade.

She had been working at a variety of bars, on and off campus, but mostly at a dive bar in the factory district, run by an old man named Carl. She liked it there, but felt that she was saturating the market. Not everybody wants a hand job two nights in a row. And not everybody can afford them twice a week, especially not the working-class clientele at Carl's. As a business major, she was aware of the need to keep her markets expanding. Plus, she liked the clean, polite clientele that was generally found at the more expensive yuppie-oriented bars.

Nancy made herself a quick dinner of macaroni and cheese with a hot dog sliced up into it. Then she took a shower and picked out some clothes from her "work" wardrobe. She rifled through her closet, and selected a short yellow sleeveless dress which showed plenty of cleavage, some lacy white panties, and a nice slutty looking pair of chunky high-heeled red Mary Jane pumps. She added some lipstick and eye shadow, and some large gold hoop earrings. As an afterthought, she added a thumb ring; some guys liked the added stimulation. She admired herself in the full-length mirror in the living room.

Satisfied, she went down the stairs to the bus stop and rode toward campus. She got off a few blocks before the corner where the new bar was located. She wanted to check out the surrounding neighborhood. There were some shops, some apartment buildings, some restaurants. A few other bars as well. There was a large municipal parking lot with meters. She noticed that one of the meters had an "out of order" sign hanging on it.

She got to the new bar. Actually, it was a restaurant and a bar, but she had heard that it had a very busy drinking and socializing scene, especially catering to the well-to-do young professionals in town, as well as the wealthier of the students. It was called "O'Malley's" and looked very clean and nice. The walls were brick, and the windows had the daily specials painted on in large white letters. Saturday night was Corona night. She smiled to herself at the obvious pun: the beer and the penis component!

She walked in the front door. A hostess asked if she was here for dinner and Nancy said no, she was just here from some drinks and would go to the bar. The interior was brightly lit, and had plenty of brass and ferns and polished wood for décor. Yes, very clean indeed. The people were all well dressed and nice looking. It was much nicer than Carl's, the seedy dive in the factory district where she had first become a hand job slut, several months ago.

The patrons in the bar included a roughly equal number of men and women. At Carl's dive bar, she could always use the ladies room as her hand job parlor, as there were never any women drinking there. That wouldn't work here. Nancy pushed open the door to the ladies room and looked around. It was nice and large, with four large stalls. One of the stalls would be plenty big enough for giving hand jobs in. She had an idea.

She went back outside to the parking lot with the meters. She took the "out of order" sign off of the broken meter and brought it back into the bar. She hung it on the door to the last stall in the ladies room. There. Private room, reserved just for her. She was all set. Now it was time to start drumming up some business.

Nancy went to the bar area, and stood at the smooth wooden service bar. People were jostling all around her. She caught the eye of the bartender, a handsome young fellow in a rugby shirt. He asked her for her order, and she asked for a Corona. After all, it was on special. She received and paid for her beer, and walked around the crowd, sipping her beer.

There were groups of men, groups of women, mixed groups, and couples. Nobody seemed to be alone, and everyone was having fun. She liked this place. The people were happy. Happy people enjoyed a good hand job. It was also kind of an expensive place. She liked that, too. People who drink expensive beer don't hesitate to spend twenty dollars on a hand job. She just needed to select a prospect.

She finally saw one young man who was alone, playing darts by himself. He looked a little too old to be a college student; probably a recent grad who worked in town. He was wearing a blue polo shirt and cargo trousers. Nancy walked up to him and said, "Hi, I'm Nancy."

"Hi, I'm Phil. Nice to meet you Nancy," he said, extending his hand.

Nancy took his hand and shook it. "I'll give you a hand job for twenty dollars," she said, using the same opening line that she had uttered hundreds of times in the past. She didn't like to waste time on idle chatter.

Phil cocked his head and looked her up and down. He saw a plain looking girl, short and rather plump, but clean and well dressed, if a bit tarted up. Her face was completely serious. He decided that she wasn't kidding, and hoped she wasn't some sort of vice cop.

"Are you some sort of vice cop?" he asked.

"No, silly. I'm a college student and a hand job slut. I give hand jobs to pay for my tuition and my books. I'm really quite good at it."

Phil had heard somewhere that if you ask a cop if they are a cop, they have to say "yes." Therefore, she couldn't be a cop. Unless he had heard wrong. Oh well, he decided, what the fuck. He was pretty horny. "Okay, you're on," he said. "I'd love a hand job."

"Good. Come with me," and she took him by the hand and lead him back to the ladies room. She brought him back to the last stall, the one with the "out of order" sign hanging on it, and pushed the door open.

There, to both of their surprise, were a man and a woman. The man was in the process of handing a twenty dollar bill to the woman. He looked like he came from the same mold as Phil: a young urban professional, nice haircut, wearing a grey button down shirt and khaki chinos and some loafers. The woman looked about the same age as Nancy, but was tall and slender, and had her hair back in a long brown ponytail. They both froze when Nancy pushed open the stall door.