Carpool Carnal Syndrome
Chapter 3—She’s a working woman, just like you
Little did I know it, there wasn’t going to be a next day. When I showed up at her door, her daughter, Rita, answered. “Mom doesn’t want to see you,” she said curtly and then before I could say anything at all, the brat shut the door in my face.
So there I was, standing on Joan’s doorstep, wondering what had just happened and for the first time, I was wondering if I could get in trouble for what I’d done. Having nothing better to do, I went back to my car and I drove to work but with thoughts of what might be in store for me, I didn’t really have a great day at work.
The next day, I called and once again, it was Rita who intercepted the call. “What do you want,” she demanded.
“I was wondering if your mom was going to work today.”
“I told you. Mom doesn’t want to see you,” and with that, she hung up on me. Once again, I was left to go into work on my own.
It was midway through the second day when I got the call from Joan. “I hear Rita’s been kind of hard on you,” she said somewhat meekly.
“Yeah, well you know,” I said somewhat dismissively wondering just what she was going to say next.
“I’ve been a bit under the weather,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me the last day we were together but I’m feeling a lot better now.”
“You’re sure,” I asked.
“I’m sure. It won’t ever happen again.”
“Well, if you’re sure—”
“I’m sure,” she said again. “It’s not ever going to ever happen again. I assure you of that, so if you’re okay with it, I’ll be ready to go to work tomorrow so if you want to pick me up—”
“I’ll be there,” I told her.
“Good,” she said and the line went dead.
I decided I wasn’t going to use the tape on her again. To tell the truth, after what had happened in the past few days, I was just a bit worried about what I might have been opening myself up for.
And besides, she was so damned contrite when she got in the car that next morning that I really didn’t want to use the tape on her.
That lasted for about a week but Joan, it seemed, just couldn’t help herself. She was always people watching and being a passenger gave her plenty of time for that and she was enough of a prude that she just couldn’t hold herself back.
“Look at that woman,” she said one night on the way home.
“What? Which one?”
“Over there in the Lexus.”
I didn’t see the girl at first. I saw the guy first. He was in the driver’s seat. It was only then after I saw him that I saw her. She was riding shotgun. “Yeah,” I said. “What about her?”
“She’s a little fucking slut.”
“You say that about everyone, Joan.”
“Not everyone,” she said defensively.
I didn’t want to argue the point. “Okay,” I said, “so why do you think she’s a slut?”
“Why? Just look at her.”
“What about her?”
“What about her? Look at her. She’s practically sitting in the guy’s lap and look how she’s dressed and you can’t even see one her hands. I wonder where that is. I take it back. She might not be a fucking slut. She might be a fucking whore and that’s worse.”
“Why is that worse,” I asked.
She snorted and looked at me as if I were totally dense. “Because,” she said finally, “at least a slut is doing it because she wants to. A fucking whore is doing it for money.”
“So you’re saying a woman can’t want to be a whore?”
“No woman wants to be a whore,” she said. “Take my word for it. Women know these things. No woman wants that.”
“If you say so,” I said, “but why do you think she’s a whore?”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say she was a whore,” I said. “I just said she looked like she was.”
“Okay then, why do you think she looks like a whore?”
“Why do I think she looks like a whore? Hell, just look at her.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So she’s all over the guy.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So I think that makes her a fucking whore.”
I was trying to be reasonable but Joan really was getting on my nerves. “Okay, I said, so what if she is, and I’m not saying she is, but what’s it to you?”
“I don’t like whores.”
“Why?”
“Why? What do you mean why?”
“They’re working women just like you,” I said. “Only thing is they have to put up with a whole lot more shit than you do, so even if she is a whore, I’m asking again, what’s it to you?”
“I don’t like them and that’s all there is to it,” she said.
That was it. I knew I shouldn’t do it but I decided Joan needed to be taught a lesson so that night when I got home, I dug the tape out and I had it ready to go the next morning when Joan and I drove into work.
“Oh, not this crap again,” she said when I popped it in the player.
“What’s the matter. Don’t you like it?”
“No. It sounds like crap.”
“Well I like it, and I think you should learn to relax.”
“Yeah right,” she said but she did sit back and she did start to relax.
“You know,” I told her, “I was thinking about what you said yesterday.”
“About what?”
“About the woman in the other car. You know, the one you said was a whore.”
I could sense Joan start to tense up and I knew why. She was expecting a fight.
“You know,” I said, “I was thinking about it and I was thinking that you might have been right all along.”
The woman seemed to relax. “Well, at last,” she gloated. “At last, you’re coming around and seeing things my way.”
“Yep, you might have been right. She might very well have been a whore.”
“I told you so.”
“Yep,” I allowed, “and of course, it all makes sense.”
“Makes sense how?”
“Because we often criticize what we ourselves can’t do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll bet you could never do what that girl was doing.”
“I wouldn’t want to do what she was doing.”
“So you see you prove my point.”
“What point?”
“You can’t do what she was doing so you criticize her but you really can’t understand where she’s coming from.”
“I don’t have to do what she did to understand where she’s coming from.”
“Oh really? Care to put that to the test?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you slide over here just like the girl in the car was doing.”
“What do you mean,” Joan asked but even as she asked it, she was sliding closer to me.
“Come on,” I told her. “You can do better than that. Get really close to me.”
“I ... but no,” and yet even as she said it, she slipped free from the shoulder restraints on her seat belt and she edged in closer to me.
“That’s a good girl,” I told her. “You don’t mind if I call you a girl, do you.” I knew she hated it when men did that to women but I was also pretty sure she wasn’t going to object and I was right.
“No,” she said. “That’s okay.”
“Now why don’t you put your hand where you thought the girl had hers.”
“I ... I ... no,” and yet, even as she was saying it, she slid her hand between my legs.
“Come on,” I told her. “You can do better than that. Put it where you really thought she had her hand.”
Her hand moved and I could feel it stroke the ridge in my slacks.
“What are you feeling there,” I asked.
“I’m feeling your cock,” she said.
“You sure are,” I told her, “and I’ll bet you like it, feeling my cock like that.”
“N-n-no,” she murmured but her hand never left the ridge in my pants.
“Sure you do,” I told her. “You love stroking my cock.”
“I ... I—”
“In fact, the truth is, the more you do it, the more you like it.”
I could tell she didn’t agree with me completely but her hand was stroking harder.
“You like it a lot. You like my cock. You like it so much.”
She wasn’t trying to say anything anymore but her hand was getting a little bit more inventive.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you. You like stroking my cock. Tell me you like stroking my cock.”
“I like stroking your cock.”
“Say it again,” I told her.
“I like stroking your cock.”
“Yeah, that’s good, but you know that’s not the real story. You just don’t like it. You love it. You love stroking my cock.”
She didn’t say anything. She just kept working her hand over the outside of my pants.
“Tell me you love it,” I told her. “Tell me you love stroking my cock.”
“I love stroking your cock.”
God, I couldn’t believe traffic was as good as it was that day and that was probably a good thing because the truth was I really didn’t have much of my attention focused on the road. “But you know,” I told her, “a whore wouldn’t do it like that, would she? She might stroke the cock but she’d be a little more personally involved. Can you become more personally involved in stroking my cock?”
For a moment there, I thought she wasn’t going to take the hint. For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to tell her what to do but then her hand moved and she was unzipping my pants and suddenly, she was pushing her hand inside. “How’s this,” she asked almost playfully.
She had her hand on the outside of my underwear but she wasn’t stopping there. She gave my cock a couple nice strokes but then she was pushing her hand inside and I could feel her fingers as she wrapped them around my cock. I couldn’t help myself. I let out a long, low moan.
“Oh yeah, you like that,” she purred. “You like it when I do this.”
Okay, I really should have pulled over but the truth is I just didn’t want her to stop. “Yeah,” I groaned. “Yeah I like it. I like it a lot.”
“I like it, too.”
“Actually, you love it,” I told her. “You love my cock but I think it’s time we gave you the full 100% whore experience. What do you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want the total whore experience, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you suck my cock off and get everything all cleaned up before we get into work.”
“What!? I’m not a whore.”
“You could have fooled me,” I said. “I mean, after the way you seem to be stroking my cock, I’d kind of say you were a natural at it.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I told her. “Now get your mouth down there and start sucking on my cock.”
She was still trying to object but when I pushed her head down, she really offered up very little resistance.
She was looking down and then she opened her mouth and pushed herself down onto my cock.
“Oh yeah,” I groaned. “That’s a good, little whore.”
She tried to pull herself up but I wasn’t going to let her do it and besides, I already knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell me she wasn’t a whore but I didn’t want to hear it.
“You’re a good, little whore,” I told her again. “Any woman who’d accept money to suck a guy’s cock is by definition, a whore, so that is exactly what you are, and besides, if I know you, I think I know what you really want. What you really want is to suck my cock.”
Once again, Joan tried to pull her mouth up off of my cock and once again I pushed her down again.
“Suck my cock,” I told her again. “Suck my cock like a good, little whore.”
She seemed on the edge of resisting but then the fight seemed to go out of her and she started sucking my cock in earnest.
I kept one hand on the wheel even as I kept pushing her down with the other but really, I didn’t need to keep pushing her down. The fight really had gone out of her and she really seemed intent on sucking my cock.
“Oh yeah,” I groaned. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Suck it. Suck my cock.”
She kept right on sucking.
“Oh man, you must really want that hundred bucks, don’t you,” I taunted her. “Of course, you know to get it, that means you’re going to have to swallow.”
Once again, Joan tried to pull her head up. Once again, I pushed her back down again.
“You do what I tell you to, whore. You got that? You’re a little, fucking whore. You do what people want you to do. You got that?”
I thought Joan was trying to nod her acceptance but I didn’t really care. I didn’t need her acceptance anyway. What I needed was for her to keep her mouth on my cock.
“Yeah, suck it,” I told her. “Suck it.”
Joan kept right on sucking and I kept right on moaning.
“Oh yeah, suck it,” I told her. “Suck it. Oh yeah, you suck it so good. You must really like to fuck and suck for bucks,” I told her, “because you do it so well.”
She didn’t even bother to mount a resistance. She just kept sucking away on my cock.
She almost made me cum. Almost but not quite but I knew the reprieve was only temporary. Her mouth was just too good for my cock to withstand it for long. I groaned and then my cock surged. I filled her mouth and the little whore just kept sucking away at me.
I groaned again. I couldn’t believe Joan was doing this to me.
“Remember, whore, to get your money, not only do you have to make me cum, but you also have to lick my dick clean before we get to work.”
Joan didn’t need to be told twice. Almost immediately, her tongue went to work on my cock and I could hear her slurping away at my cum.
We were almost at work when Joan finally sat back up and looked over at me. “All done,” she said in a very smug tone. “You owe me a hundred bucks.”
“I don’t know about that,” I told her. “You still haven’t put my cock back in my pants. “I mean fun’s fun, but when you’re done playing, you have to remember to put your toys away.”
It didn’t take Joan long to tuck my depleted member back inside my pants. She couldn’t help giving it one soft, little squeeze and then she was zipping my pants up. “There,” she said again. “All done.”
I grinned at her. “You know, I think you’re right.”
She grinned back. “And I think you owe me a hundred bucks.”
I pulled out my wallet and I pulled out five crisp twenties. “You know,” I told her, “you play your cards right, whore, and there’s plenty more where this comes from.”
“But—”
“But nothing. We’ve already proved that you’ll suck cock for money, haven’t we? Haven’t we?”
“Yes, but—”
I shook my head. “We’ve shown that you’ll suck cock for money and that makes you a whore. Doesn’t it,” I demanded. “Doesn’t it.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. You’re a little, fucking whore and that’s all there is to it but if you don’t admit what you are, then you don’t get paid, so tell me now what you really are.”
“But ... but that’s my money.”
“You need to learn to do what you’re told, don’t you ... whore.”
“Yes, but—”
“No, buts. You and I both know what you really are. All you got to do is admit it.”
For a moment there, it looked as if Joan wasn’t going to say anything. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Her lips moved. “I’m,” she said hoarsely. “I’m—”
“Yeah, you can say it.”
“I’m a ... I’m a ... a whore.”
“There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now say it again.”
“God damn it. I already said it.”
“Yeah, I know, but it sounds so good to hear you say it. What are you again?”
Joan hesitated but she kept staring at the twenties in my hand. She licked her lips as she looked at the bills. “I’m ... I’m a whore,” she said finally.
“A little cock sucking whore. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m a little cock sucking whore.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds good. Say it again.”
She didn’t hesitate at all. “I’m a little cock sucking whore,” she said and damn, she sounded so fucking nasty. I loved it.
“Yep. You’re a little cock sucking whore,” I said. “Not a little cock fucking whore. Not yet, but you will be.”