Read Jennifer Needs a Job Online
Authors: Huck Pilgrim
Jennifer Needs a Job
Pilgrim Press
Jennifer Needs a Job © 2014 by Huck Pilgrim
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
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imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any
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entirely coincidental.
All sexually active characters in this work are
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It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic
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Contents
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.