Bedding Bunny (Vintage Erotic Novel) - Anju Quewea - ebook
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This is a Vintage Erotic, Adult Novel... Full of sexual adventures... Involving a sexy and Seductive girl... Full of Sex, Surprises and Unusual Naughty Twists.

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Bedding Bunny

CHAPTER ONEI have a 160 I.Q. and was a math major before I dropped out of college. So how did I wind up becoming a whore? Well, ever since my libido really started sprouting I had entertained vivid, sometimes unusual sexual fantasies. More and more these began to center around being a sex professional, a prostitute. I don't know why, but I just found that so arousing, making money off of sex. To me, being a whore sounded a whole lot more exciting than being a lawyer or some sort of straight businesswoman.And let's be truthful for a moment. What woman could honestly claim that she never thought about what it might be like to turn tricks, to get paid for having sex? For me that had definitely long been my number one sex fantasy. I can't tell you how many times I jerked off at night thinking about myself in hot, lewd whore fantasies.But it was when I took an elective course on the alternative American novel from a really cool professor in college that these fantasies truly became intense and vivid for me. Professor Sanders, my instructor, assigned us several autobiographical novels by a supposedly notorious and renowned black pimp. You might have heard of him and his books. They were stories of a pimp and his whores in New York City, and the books just fascinated me. In fact, I became rather obsessed with them.I'd read them in bed at night in my dorm room, and only when my roommate was out so I could have complete privacy. I'd sit back against my pillows, my hand between my legs strumming at my clit as I read about all sorts of pimping and whoring adventures in midtown Manhattan decades ago. The accounts thrilled me. I'd peruse them over and over again, finally climaxing to some particularly sizzling passage.And as I read I'd imagine myself in those scenarios, inserting myself into the sizzling scenes that this brilliant pimp-novelist described.You see, I grew up in a tedious upper-class Connecticut suburb where everyone talked about tennis and golf and country clubs. But while my friends at college were thinking about sailing vacations in the Bahamas or touring the south of France, I was daydreaming about pimps and hotel rooms and tricks.I even decided to write my course paper on one of this pimp-writer's novels. I called it "The Psychology of Pimp-Whore Relations in the Novels of...." I got an A+ on my paper and my instructor said he was so impressed by my effort that he wanted me to come to his office to discuss it with him."That was a wonderfully insightful analysis you did, Barbara," my instructor said. That's my real name-Barbara. 'Bunny' is the name I adopted when I started turning tricks."Why, thank you, Professor Sanders," I said."You really delved deeply in your attempt to understand what goes on in the mind of a prostitute," he said. My professor was a very handsome man, probably around fifty, and I knew for a fact that he was married. Not that this stopped me from having a little crush on him. Older men can be so sexy sometimes."For some reason, I really feel I understand where that whole desire to sell your body comes from," I said."Yes, the liberal assumption has always been to claim that prostitutes engage in their trade strictly out of need. You know, necessity is the mother of invention. Women become prostitutes because it's one of the few available economic choices, they have, etc., etc. And of course there's a lot of truth to that....""But it's definitely not the whole picture," I interrupted."Not by a long shot.""Yes, prostitutes, as you've pointed out in your analysis of these books, are compelled by many different needs and wants," he went on, a touch pedantically."Whores, Professor Sanders. Not prostitutes. The word 'prostitute' sounds so clinical. I prefer the word 'whore.'""Very well ... whores," he said, stressing the word.We looked at each other over a long moment of silence."Barbara, I hope you don't find me rude asking you this-" he started but I interrupted him again."Call me Bunny," I said. That was the name I had chosen for myself when I began to imagine myself as a woman in the trade."Okay, Bunny," he continued. "I couldn't help feeling you identified with prostitutes very strongly, almost as though you had some experience in that arena yourself."My professor was very perceptive, though he was wrong about my having had any such experience ... yet. His insight, though, was getting me strangely excited."I can see why you say that, Professor Sanders. I know it seems that way. Though the truth is I haven't had any experience of that sort at all...."There was another very long moment of silence...." at least not yet."I leaned over and looked him in the eye."Though I sure have been thinking about acquiring just such experience. Especially since I read the books you assigned us."More taut silence. And then Professor Sanders did something which I will remember all my life. He took out his wallet and handed me a couple of twenties."Well, maybe you can start getting some of that experience right now," he said boldly."Maybe I can" I said, taking the bills from him, amazed that I was as calm and collected as he was. Here I was, a young woman who had fantasized intensely about being a whore. And now for the first time I was being offered money for sex. I was being given the opportunity to actually be a whore."Hmmm, only forty dollars," I said, fingering the two twenties."Unfortunately that's all I have," he said."I think we can work something out," I said, getting up to flip the lock on his door."For forty dollars I can give you a blow job, Professor Sanders. How would that suit you?" I asked."That would suit me just fine," he said, smirking.Though on the surface I appeared nice and calm, now, as the moment of truth was upon me, my heart was beating a mile a minute.I unbuttoned my shirt and revealed my tits."Here, this is so you'll have something to look at," I said, showing off my perfect breasts as I reached down to unzip his pants. I pulled it out and saw it was still soft, so I tugged at it a little and made it meatier.Then I dropped down to my knees, looked up at him briefly, and wrapped my lips around his cock. I was twenty and I had sucked dozens of cocks, but here I was sucking one for money for cold, hard cash!It only took a few seconds for my professor's cock to grow rigid in my mouth, and only a few more for that hard cock to throb and spurt as he unloaded. I swallowed down every drop, licking my lips lewdly."That was pretty easy money," I said, zipping him up. "Maybe next time you'll make me work a little harder for it. And we'll do some other nasty things too."Now that he had cum he was rather embarrassed, and tried to avoid my direct gaze."Maybe next time you can have some of this," I said, lifting up my skirt, pulling down my panties and flashing my pussy. "Of course that'll be a little more expensive."I couldn't believe how I was getting right into the groove. I guess all that fantasizing, and then the reading of those books, was paying off. Don't ever believe anyone who says you can't learn anything from a book!His eyes were like lasers, staring at my snatch as I held my skirt up above my waist so he could have a peek. Then I sat on the edge of his desk and flexed and spread my legs, so he could have a really good look at my pussy."You like, Professor?" I cooed."I like very much," he said, with a sexy smile."Here, keep these as a memento," I said, handing him my panties. And then I exited into the quad, the cool autumn air breezing between my legs!Professor Sanders was my first trick, and my only one for a while. Just as being a whore was a big fantasy for me, so my English teacher had long fantasized about being a trick, about paying for it, even though he was very handsome and sexy and could probably get all the women he wanted, especially among all the coeds on campus who lusted after him. But I got him to pay for it, whereas they would've gladly lined up to give it to him for free!He confessed to me that he was a regular client of several Boston prostitutes. And it was partly his interest in whoring which led him to assign us those books. So when he read my paper, and correctly detected that whores and whoring were as intriguing to me as to him, he said he couldn't resist having me come to his office and then daring to make that first offer.And it was the first of many. For a semester I'd suck and fuck him once a week, and I always got paid for it. Once he offered me two hundred dollars to let him fuck me up the ass. Little did he know I would've done it for the same fee as straight sex. I've always loved getting assfucked. It's not something I have to get paid extra to do. Though I did learn to take advantage of the fact that men gladly paid extra for that particular pleasure, a pleasure denied them by so many of their wives and girlfriends. After that first time sliding his cock up my tight, young ass, that's all Professor Sanders ever wanted to do. And I gladly took his two hundred bucks a shot each time. Shit, I made a couple of thou that semester from this first of my tricks. And he gave me an 'A' in my course too!But it all came to an end when his wife found the pair of panties I had given him that first time. She confronted him and he broke down, confessing that he was seeing a whore. Pressing further, she got him to admit that the whore was one of his students, that it was me! The shit really hit the fan after that and I was forced to drop out of school. But by that time I was ready to do that anyway. I was getting tired of math. The only math I was interested in was the arithmetic I'd need to add up all the money I was going to make hustling my ass!So I moved to New York. I had read an article in a magazine about prostitution in New York, and it mentioned several bars at notorious locations where prostitutes and their pimps hung out. Naturally I started hanging out at those spots myself, and it took me all of two minutes to meet 'Daddy Spade,' a black pimp who seemed like he was lifted straight off the pages of the books I had read.To make a long story short, because I have to move on to another story soon, Daddy became my pimp and for three years I turned tricks for him. You hear about pimps brutalizing young whores. Some definitely do, but not Daddy, at least not with me. But then again, I was smarter and showed more savvy than the average street whore. Plus, I loved, not resented, having a pimp.I did a little bit of everything. I walked the streets around Central Park. I worked the bars. I operated out of an East Side high rise apartment which Daddy rented for me and the other four or five girls in his stable. Some girls would never work with a pimp, but at that stage of my career having a pimp was a big part of my fantasy, inspired by those notorious novels I read in college. And, of course, he had to be a black pimp, and drive a big Caddy too!But whoring can really wear you down. And the smart whore takes a break from it, sometimes permanent, sometimes temporary. So after three solid years of turning tricks, I decided to call it quits. At least for a while. Daddy took it well. He had several other moneymakers in his stable, several girls I, in fact, helped recruit for him. Plus, he and I always got on in a special way. He was another high I.Q. type who found himself working in what was often seen as a low I.Q. world, and we quickly became soul mates of a sort. We even talked about philosophy and literature. At first glance, people would assume Daddy was nothing but a strong arm hustler. But he was far from that. He was a player, a serious and smart player.Luckily, unlike some working girls, I had a terrific body. I was an athlete in high school and college, and so I was firm and trim. Plus I happened to be naturally endowed with a sleek but shapely figure, with nice big tits and a firm, round ass. On top of that, I had spent five years studying jazz dancing. So with my natural endowment and my acquired dancing skills, together with my experience whoring and the knack that gave me for knowing how to turn on a man, I was easily able to obtain work as a dancer in topless and bottomless clubs as a stripper. The money wasn't as good as I could make turning tricks, but it was good enough, and it was an easier life.One night, about a year after I had left Daddy's stable and stopped whoring, I visited his pad to celebrate his 30th birthday. Though I no longer worked for him, I was still always a welcome visitor at his crib. I knew several of the girls who worked for him and got along with them very well. In fact, I had been a mentor to several of them. Whores are often at each other's throats, all choked up with spite and envy. Not me, though. I got on well with other whores. In fact, Daddy once told me I'd make a great madam and should try that some day. That bit of advice stayed in my head, and eventually took root in the story I will soon tell here.I had been at Daddy's for only a few minutes and the party had hardly gotten started when a wild scene erupted. Daddy had one of his new bitches in his lap, Donna, a foxy white girl from the south. I could tell by the way he was cooing at her that she was his favorite new whore. Being new to his stable, she naturally thought she was special. I could see this from that smug look on her face and the way she acted as though Daddy were her man and nobody else's.Suddenly the door opened and Mocha rushed in. Mocha was a beautiful light-skinned black whore. Daddy and I recruited her together on a trip we took to Philadelphia and I helped him break her in. After I left Daddy's stable a year ago, Mocha had taken my place as the number one whore. Mow Mocha stared coldly at Daddy and at Donna, a look of smoldering anger on her face."What is this bitch doing here?" Mocha said to Daddy, pointing to Donna, "I thought you said she had gone back South to see her po' white trash family.""Shut the fuck up, Mocha, okay? Stop being a such a cunt," Donna said, and I knew right away that was a big mistake. Young new whores are supposed to show respect to their more seasoned sisters, or at least pretend to."Who you calling a cunt, you streetwalkin' piece of redneck trash?" Mocha hissed."You!" Donna said icily. "You're a cunt ... a real cunt."I knew now that the feathers were about to start flying.Like a wild bobcat, Mocha lunged at Donna and in no time at all the two of them were really going at it, tearing and clawing at each other. Daddy just laid back and laughed, loving the fuss, enjoying the whore catfight, gloating in that special pimp's way that his bitches were fighting for his favors.Daddy and I shared a knowing look.The two of them were going at it so hot and heavy that soon their clothes were in tatters."Get the fuck off me, you black bitch!" Donna screamed as Mocha, bigger and stronger, was beginning to gain control over the situation. This is what the younger bitches always have to learn. That the older ones will fight to the death not to let them get over on them. And that's what Mocha was doing now, giving the young whore a lesson in respect.She had managed to get Donna down on her stomach on the bed, and was sitting on her as Donna squealed like crazy, trying to break free. By this time I could see Daddy had a hard-on and was rubbing his pants. He always got a charge watching his bitches fight over him. I had always been too cool for shit like that, and Daddy appreciated my maturity and composure. In fact, we would often watch together, bemused, as these inevitable catfights erupted among the more excitable whores.I don't know whether it was just watching them fight like that, or seeing Daddy get a boner over it, but the whole scene was making me as hot as it was making him.So, using my prerogative of still being the honorary top cat in his stable, I leaned over to Daddy, pulled down his fly, and took out his big, ebony dick as I had so many countless times before.Mocha, watching me do this, smiled. She didn't at all mind seeing me get some of Daddy. After all, she knew that was, and probably always would be, my privilege. It was newcomer Donna who pissed her off, who had to be taught not to just expect the goods any old time she wanted them."Yeah, Bunny," Mocha said, looking over at me with a satisfied smile. "Play with that dick of Daddy's. Play with it, because I'm about give you two a hell of a show."Now Mocha reached over to open her bag and pulled out two sets of handcuffs. Some whores keep these on hand for the kinky tricks. She snapped a pair on each of Donna's wrists, then attached the other half of the two pairs to the bedposts. Donna was squirming like a cornered squirrel, but there wasn't much she could by then. Mocha was quickly asserting her dominance in the whore hierarchy here, and about to give Donna a stern lesson. Plus Mocha was strong, real strong."You really love Daddy's ten thick black inches, don't you?" Mocha said to Donna, her voice thick with contempt and menace. "Well don't fret, bitch, because you're going to get ten big black inches tonight, and then some!"Mocha had lived with Daddy for a while, and I knew for a fact she still kept a lot of her stuff there. So now she went into a closet, shuffled through it, and came out with a favorite old toy. Daddy and I smiled when we saw the enormous black leather strap-on dildo; we both knew how much Mocha enjoyed wielding it. Mocha had come to specialize in B&D scenes with tricks who enjoy that sort of thing and was sometimes begged to use her strap-on on them. In fact, two or three times Mocha and I had teamed up for that kind of scene, taking turns strapping on the dildo and making some sorry dude's bottom real sore.Now as a more subdued Donna looked on, Mocha strapped it on and paraded around in front of her. Handcuffed to the bed, all Donna could do was watch, and she looked stunned at the sight of that huge strap-on leather cock. Although it was hard to tell if she was stunned with fear or stunned with hunger and desire."What are you planning to do with that?" Donna asked."With this? What am I going to do with it?" Mocha said mockingly, a sexy sneer on her face. "Let me tell you exactly what I'm going to do with it, cunt."Mocha just stood there, stroking the ten or so inches of leather cock."I fuck worms up the ass with this. And you're going to be my worm tonight," Mocha said.Donna actually gasped when she heard that.Now Mocha walked right up to Donna's face, waving the leather cock in front of Donna's eyes and then slapping her cheeks with it."So Donna, you wanted some big, black cock tonight, huh? Daddy's cock. Well, you're gonna get some big, black cock, except it ain't gonna be Daddy's."In fact, it was I who was getting to enjoy Daddy's thick black boner, fisting it slowly as we watched Mocha do her thing."That black dick," Mocha said, pointing at Daddy's, nested in my fist, "is for fine bitches, like me and Bunny. This one is for little twerp twats like you."Mocha slapped Donna's face."Open your mouth!" she hissed.Donna had this sassy look on her face, like she was beginning to enjoy all this. Suddenly looking feisty again, Donna opened her lips as Mocha pushed the life-like leather cock between them."See, the little bitch loves to suck big ones," Mocha said."Yeah, and I suck 'em better than you ever did or will," Donna said defiantly, as Mocha slapped her face again. There was something in that look in Donna's eyes that made me think a part of her enjoyed being slapped around by Mocha, being put in her place, and yet still being able to act fresh and sassy. That's a good whore attitude to have sometimes, submissive but real fresh and spunky.Now Mocha reached into her bag again for a tube of lubricating jelly. Most whores carry a tube, especially the ones that do greek, like Mocha. And me, when I was still hustling my ass ... literally!Daddy wrapped one of his big arms around me as I massaged his shaft while we watched the lewd show unfold.Mocha squeezed a dab of the jelly onto her fingertips, and pinning Donna down in place with one hand, slapped the jelly between her buns, working it into her crack."Why don't you fuck my pussy first," Donna said, totally into it now."I only fuck assholes with this dick, not pussies," Mocha said as she looked over at me and Daddy. "Yeah, Bunny, take care of Daddy's dick for him, will you?" she hissed, looking back at us, as she got behind Donna. And then, with one relentless, savage thrust she forced her big leather cock deep into Donna's ass. Donna started to yell like a banshee, but it was just for show. I had heard a bit about her through the grapevine. I knew that she, like most girls who make their way through Daddy's stable, liked to do greek and did it on a regular basis. I sure knew that was true of me. In fact, the word on the street was that Donna was actually a bit of a greek freak. I'm sure Daddy had screwed that tight redneck butt of hers more than once."What the fuck you doing?!" Donna shrieked. Suddenly she must've realized that it wasn't a trick who was greeking her for two C bills, or Daddy boning her asshole as a special treat, but another whore who had handcuffed her to a bed and was forcing her to submit to this savage anal assault."Are you a dumb bitch, or what?" Mocha said. "I'm fuckin' you up your fuckin' asshole. That's what I'm doin'."I knew that Donna was thrilled by this, and part of it was the humiliation of it that was getting to Donna. Mocha knew it. Pinned down, handcuffed to the bedposts, and forced to take a huge leather dick up her ass from a superior whore while her pimp watched, Donna still tried to one up Mocha."You sorry bitch. You're only doing this 'cause you know Daddy likes me more than you. He likes my tight, young, fresh pussy, not just my butt. The only thing that's tight on you is your asshole!"It was all talk. Mocha and I had talked about this kind of shit, and no one had better muscle control than Mocha. Even the tricks said she had a pussy like a virgin.I still vividly remembered how Daddy had me help 'break Mocha in' by doing to her just what she was now doing to Donna, strapping on a big dildo and fucking her up the ass. I loved reaming her rectum like that back then, and I'm sure that's where she learned that kinky use for a thick strap-on toy. You'd be surprised how many requests whores get from guys to do them that way. That's why almost every smart, well equipped whore owns a strap-on dildo, preferably several in different sizes.Anyway, Mocha and Donna were soon caught up in their nasty anal coupling. Mocha was thrusting hard into Donna's very willing bottom, and Donna was squealing uninhibitedly, pushing back on it, eager to take every inch of Mocha's leather cock deep into her butt. Daddy and I watched the sizzling show, utterly spellbound by the lewd display. His cock felt like it was going to burst, it was so hard."Say, Daddy?" I said, turning to him. "How about I suck you off while you watch these nasty bitches do their thing.""Who you calling a bitch?" Mocha said jokingly, turning to me with a wink and a smile. She knew that when I called her a bitch it was all in fun."You, Mocha, and that young slut you're sodomizing," I said, as I bent down now to take the smooth chocolate-hued knob of Daddy's cock in my mouth.Neither Mocha nor Donna were going to get Daddy off tonight; I was. So as I turned my eyes to keep watching the show, I took good care of my old pimp. A minute later he emptied a thick load in my mouth. I knew Daddy. He may have been a virile dude with a hard cock, but I knew that after he'd cum he wouldn't be any good for at least another twelve hours. All he wanted to do was sleep. So I took a certain old-timer's satisfaction in knowing that neither Donna nor Mocha were going to enjoy that stiff cock of Daddy's tonight. That cock had belonged to me!CHAPTER TWOSo as I've said, eventually I got a little burnt out by the hustling trade. I had watched girls who had been whoring a little too long deteriorate real quick. I didn't want that to happen to me; hooking can take a toll on you, even if you don't drink too much or get caught up in the drug thing. And I managed to stay nice and clean in those departments. But I loved sex and as a hooker you can get real jaded and turn completely cold to sex. That's what happens to a lot of hookers, and I sure didn't want to go that route myself.And so I started stripping, shaking my tight booty for the paying clientele. My income dropped, but the peace of mind was worth it. Most of my money I made from tips. Guys would hand me ten or twenty dollar bills, or slip them into my G-string. And I also did lap dances. That's where you straddle a seated guy and sort of dry hump him at a dollar a minute. Some dancers don't like doing that, but as a former hustler it was nothing to me. I knew how to turn a guy on in more ways than you can count!I was stripping in a topless joint. You can show your tits but you've got to wear a G-string down below. That's the law for joints that serve booze, like this one did.