A Year on the Streets

It was a year later. Carrie was now a fixture in the streets she had settled on, the wrong side of Memphis. She wore high heels, fishnet stockings, thong panties, and a matching bra with a sheer top. It was her outfit when the sun baked its hottest, and when winter set in. She had a big fat ass now, along with 34DDs. She had a tongue piercing, a navel piercing, nipple piercings, and a clit hood piercing. Her most prominent calling cards were a large tattoo on each asscheek: one with an upraised black fist, and the other the continent of Africa. She was black owned, black only, and proud of it.

A car rolled up to her, and the window started to roll down.

"You want some white pussy baby?" she peeked it. It was a white boy. They didn't show up often, but she had to shut them down -- by giving them an alternative.

"Sure -- " the john started.

"Sorry baby, I don't fuck white boys. You want to come in to my friend's house, you can watch me fuck though." The man nodded, his hands shaking. Bingo.

***

George Jenkins was 72 years old. He was retired, but agreed to watch the girls for Slim in exchange for eating money. He and Carrie had formed a more extensive bond. She had white boys pay to watch her fuck this old, portly black man, and they split the profits.

"Hey George, baby, this white boy paid to watch," Carrie purred. She didn't see Slim much anymore. She'd sucked him off three weeks ago. They were more employer and employee now, to her chagrin. But George was sweet. She tugged his sweatpants down.

"See this white boy?" Carrie teased. "Do you have one of these?" The man cleared his throat.

"N-n-no."

"Mmmmhm, that's right. White boys don't have big fat cocks like George's cock." She leaned down, sucking on it. George stroked her blonde mane, letting the vixen worship his fuckpole. It took awhile, it always did at his age, but eventually he was at full staff. Carrie stood, peeling off her thong and stockings, then putting her heels back on.

"What should this pussy belong to, white boy?" she cooed. It was almost a script by this point.

"S-s-someone like me. That would treat you right. That would spoil you. Make you a wife."

"But who does this pussy belong to?" His eyes were bugged out, staring at her tattoos.

"Black men. Big black dicks," he grunted, cumming all over his hand. Carrie clucked at him, giving him the full show despite his early cum, bouncing on George's big black cock lustily.