Chapter 10

"Can I have a blanket?" Mary asked in a tre­mulous voice. The jailer, a heavyset man with thin­ning hair and beady eyes, looked up from the girlie magazine and smiled.

"You think this is a hotel?" he answered.

"No," she said. "I'm cold."

He wasn't going to be any help. It just wasn't fair. Why could everything be so good one moment and so bad the next? She slumped down on the hard wood bed and stared down at the floor. She was starved. If only that bastard in the white car had not panicked and left her stranded out in the middle of nowhere, then she wouldn't be in jail for hitch hiking. No sooner had she walked out to the highway than the sheriff had pulled up and, without saying a word, thrown her into the back seat and carted her off to jail.

She felt so alone, so empty. The world seemed to be coming to an end. Mary could call home, but a tiny voice inside said not to. She didn't want to go home, not yet, anyway. The jail cell was bad enough. The four walls, blackened with the scrawls of other prisoners, were depressing, especially for a young girl who hated confinement. But the jail was infinitely better than the prospect of being dragged home and facing her mother again.

If only the driver hadn't panicked! Why had he been so nervous? Mary didn't mind sucking his cock. She enjoyed it. Mary even enjoyed feeling his big prick shove against her asshole, even though it hurt like hell and made a big sticky mess all over her rump.

The more she thought, the angrier she got, and the wetter her tiny cunt became.

She had come a long way in a few short days. Since that big dildo had taken her virginity, she had discovered many exciting things about her body. Her pussy was tight and full of sweet juice. And she couldn't help thinking how good it would feel to have Fred the truck driver licking her crease with his big, fat tongue.

Mary wiggled her thighs together. She crouched down on the hard bed, wondering what would become of her. She was still a long way from the ocean, and once there, how was she going to live? No driver's license, no working experience, no employable skills...

The jailer was another problem.

He had a stack of girlie magazines on the desk and she could hear his lips smacking together as he turned the pages.

"Holy catfish," he exclaimed. "Look at the jugs on that baby." He was enjoying himself thoroughly, paying no attention to Mary.

"Mister Jailer, when do I get out?" she said.

The jailer looked at the girl with disgust. Ano­ther runaway girl. He was sick and tired of these young cunts hitchhiking into California. They lived by panhandling and stealing and cheating the welfare department and it made his stomach churn. He was just one man and there were mil­lions of them.

"When do I...?" she repeated.

"Look, Miss High and Mighty Cunt," the jailer shouted, throwing Hustler down on the desk top. "You leave when I say so." He got up and walked the few short steps to the jail, sticking his blubbery face through the bars.

He was surprised. From a distance she was just one more lockup, but seeing her up close made him change his mind. This runaway was good looking. In fact, she was a fine piece of ass.

He wondered, like any normal man would, what this tall, willowy blonde would be like, her cunt wrapped around his cock like a warm bun around a steaming hot dog.

The salacious thoughts running through his mind gave him a hard on that threatened to rip his fly open. He made no attempt to hide his lust. She was a pretty young thing. Her jutting breasts were small, but well curved. His blood pressure was ris­ing. His pulse throbbed in the big arteries of his neck. It was foolish to expect this tempting punk teenager to be a virgin. There was no such animal any more, not since family life had given way to women's lib and young girls started taking birth control pills. Society had gone all to hell, as any­one who saw the number of runaways that he did could easily tell. The girls were fucking like rab­bits, and despite Mary's squeaky clean, Ail Ameri­can good looks, he had to dump her in with the rest of the teenagers.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

It was impossible for Mary not to notice the enormous growth in the man's pants. It stuck out through the bars at her like a third leg. She looked down at the tent shape in his crotch and wondered what his prick would taste like.

"San Diego?"

The jailor dismissed her answer with a wave of his hand. "A lousy town," he said. "I guess it's okay for gals, providing they don't mind fucking sailors."

When Mary didn't flinch at his crude remark, the man smiled, "Do you mind swabbies?"

For an instant, Mary thought the man was going to let her out. He was vulgar and he was act­ing a little strange, but that didn't matter. This man who stuck his cock through the bars didn't bother her now. Her heart pounded. If she under­stood him correctly, and what could be more ob­vious, there was a direct connection between the giant prick stuffed in his pants and her freedom.

"Why," she answered. "Are you a sailor?"

The jailer started to giggle. He couldn't help it. This jail bait was a dream come true. He pro­duced the jail keys and unlocked the cell. The only excitement waiting for him after the shift was his wife, a sluttish old waittress with a cunt big enough to stick your fist in. There was nothing going on with her.

But this broad this broad really looked eager to show him a good time.

"I'll let you decide," he said stupidly. He un­zipped his fly and let his dong pop free.

His pecker rose toward her mouth with sur­prising suddenness. His cock was long and slightly curved. It thickened in the middle and then tap­ered away. It looked like a white banana.

Mary was terribly excited. Her hands trembled as his cock came forward to part her wet lips. It was wicked, but Mary didn't have any control over this man. She felt her panties getting wet. She squeezed her thighs together, but that only made the juice drain out faster.

She closed her eyes and bent her neck back, her mouth open wide, like a trout ready to gob­ble down a Royal Coachman fly. The knotty end of his cock plopped down on her lips and she tilted her chin so the shaft could slide down smooth and easy.

"Hmmmm!" the jailer groaned. His giant cock filled her face easily, perhaps too much so. She kneeled down between his legs and reached around his massive girth, pulling his crotch to her face while her tongue and lips went crazy suctioning his shaft.

This cunt really knew her stuff. He had been right. Despite her innocent looks, this cunt was no stranger to cocksucking. And he only guessed what else this little tiger was good at.

He squirmed against her pressing hands and managed to pull off his shirt. Reluctantly, he had to pull from her mouth to drop his trousers and there was just that instant when he looked down and saw the saliva drooling from her mouth. He became so excited he nearly shot his load on her face.

Quickly, he went back in and she continued to squirm against him, giving the best blow job of his life. Mary rocked back and forth, bobbing her head against his crotch, sending jolts of pleasure zinging up the tiny hole that his sperm shot out of. There was no stopping this girl. She really knew a lot about oral sex. The thick, pasty sperm swelled his scrotum, but the jailer had himself under control. Or did until her fingers slid be­tween his thighs and softly squeezed his throb­bing nuts. Now his juice was pushed into his cock. He was so full of joy that he shouted out: "Oh, fuck, this is nice. I'm going to show you how nice."

Mary didn't know what the hell the man was talking about. She was busy sucking the little hole at the top of his pecker.

He reached over her back and pulled her up roughly by her thighs.

"My goodness," she gasped.

He was holding her upside down so her knees rested against his shoulders and her weight was supported by her arms. It was difficult sucking his cock in this position, especially as he was driving hard into her mouth.

Suddenly the jailer peeled back her butt cheeks and began licking the dark ravine of her asshole.

His hot, wet tongue was astonishingly warm as the rough surface lapped her pink sphincter. The ass licking made her cunt gooey as butter, so gooey that her juice began wetting up her belly.

The jailer went berserk, deep in her excited ravine. He teased her sensitive flesh until her whole insides ached to be fucked.

She worked on his cock with explosive fury. Before, when he filled her mouth with his big, nasty cock, she was repulsed and thought sucking was dirty. Not now, however! She was elated. She felt wonderful sucking the pinhole that shot his seed. Mary wanted to suck down his sperm so he would be happy.

The man made a rigid funnel shape with his tongue and started driving into her asshole. My God, that was something! She experienced passion that had been locked away under years of repres­sion. She gleefully squirmed her asshole against the jailer's tongue. And she happily sucked him, using her hands to tug on his nuts until he couldn't stop himself from jizzing her face.

In and out, in and out. His cock pistoned at her face. She heard him groan and she stroked his balls with her dainty fingers until his fat belly was buried against her chin and the huge banana shaped cock was halfway down her throat. Then he let go.

"Aaaaaiiieee!" he screamed. With a final jolt, he was buried to the hilt, his throbbing cock un­able to hold back any longer, and his hot, thick sperm spurted from his fuck hose down Mary's surprised and gulping throat.

At the same instant, he pulled his face from her ass. Her rump was glistening with spit. Her butt looked like a split watermelon, all wet from somebody's chomping face. Mary quivered be­tween his legs, his seed draining into the soft suck­ing void of her mouth.

"That a girl," he laughed. The fucking broad was unreal. He looked down at her watermelon ass and wondered what it was with this girl that made him behave like an animal. He had never licked a woman's asshole before, but her ass was smiling back at him and the white rump cheeks were cov­ered with his saliva.

Maybe her innocent looks had something to do with it. The jailer didn't know. Now that his jizz was almost sucked dry, he didn't care. He dropped Mary to the floor and flopped on the bed.

"Get your clothes on," he said.

Mary didn't wait to be asked twice. She slipped into her clothes quickly. The jailer was chuckling at some private joke and when he turned, his eyes stared merrily at Mary.

For an awful moment, she thought getting free from jail meant having more sex. She was already dizzy from drinking his seed. His juice splattered her lips and cheeks and some had dribbled down her chin.

Maybe he wants me to lick his asshole, she thought. Her butt was all wet from his tongue. It felt sensational having his tongue lapping her rear. It was almost as sensational as having a cock jam­med into her cunt. Almost, but not quite.

"Come on," he said. He fumbled for some money. "The bus comes through town in half an hours. Go straight to San Diego."

Mary took the proffered money. She counted the bills twice. There was forty five dollars in the wad the jailer had handed her.

"Come on, let's get a move on," he snapped.

Mary arranged her clothes as neatly as she could and went to the sink to splash cold water on her face. There was no mirror and she felt em­barrassed at her appearance. She primped her hair and ran from the cell out to the front desk, where the guard was slumped down reading Hustler again.

There were several forms on his desk which she hurriedly signed. Suddenly, with the stroke of a pen, she had gained her freedom.

"Thanks," she managed to say. She couldn't believe her good fortune.

Mary bounded out the door toward the bus stop. It was still dark and the wind blew hard across the flat stretches of desert. Mary crossed her arms tightly to fend off the cold. The first thing she would do in San Diego was buy a coat.

She pulled the money from her pants and counted the bills once more. Forty five dollars, she thought. And for blowing a man and letting him lick my asshole.

Prostitution, she noted, was not the crime she'd thought it was.

When the bus pulled into the hotel in Jacumba the driver, a tired looking man with huge bags under his eyes, got out and bought a coffee from the clerk.

"Hey, mister," said a blonde girl. The driver sipped coffee, giving the blonde the once over.

She was young and pretty, almost too pretty for her own good. The driver had been an infantry­man in Italy during the second war. There had been plenty of girls there, most of them hungry and willing to do damn near anything for money.

This blonde looked richer and classier than those girls, but the glassy eyed look was the same. That hungry, eager stare could never be manu­factured.

"How far to San Diego?" she asked.

She was sitting next to him on the stool, slouched forward on her arm. He whistled softly to himself as he drank the coffee. He had had one hell of a good time in Italy.