It’s the middle of the afternoon and I’m visiting the hood as usual. I think ghetto neighborhoods are misunderstood by most people. Everything is viewed through a tinted lens of fear and v******e. So if you’ve never actually lived in one and only know what you see from rap videos or crime on the nightly news you would think that’s all that exists. You never get to see for yourself days like today. It’s summer, it’s beautiful, and everyone is out on the street enjoying the weather. Families are out with their c***dren, playing and laughing, neighbors are greeting each other warmly with handshakes and hugs. There’s music blasting from the brownstone building on one side of the street and from a parked car on the other side. The best part though is the food. Every other storefront has a grill going on the sidewalk. It doesn’t matter if it’s a chicken joint, a hardware store, or the barbershop, the weather is nice so they’ve all got meat sizzling on a fire. When all you hear about is the gangs, murders, robberies and d**gs then it’s easy to write off this whole side of town thinking they’re all just savage a****ls. If you’ve never lived in this kind of neighborhood before then I need to point out a key piece of information you’re missing when forming this opinion. They are not all savage a****ls! Just 17 of them are. That’s right all the major crime in this neighborhood is being committed by exactly 17 people.

Remember that gas station that got knocked off last year? It was by one of those 17 guys. That old man assaulted in the elevator for his shopping bags? One of those 17 guys. The young lady who died, caught between the crossfire of those rival gangs? Men on both sides are from that same pool of 17. When the news of these events hits your television set night after night it becomes too easy to pass judgment on the whole area from the safety of your suburban neighborhood. Actually what I mean is the safety of our suburban neighborhood because I don’t live in the hood either. I’m your neighbor I live where you guys live. I moved out of the hood ages ago once I had the money to do so. Also this specific neighborhood that I’m in now, I didn’t even grow up here. Hell I’m not even from this state. I don’t know any of these people, we weren’t c***dhood friends, we didn’t go to church together, I didn’t attend their k**s’ christenings and I didn’t attend their weddings. You must be thinking maybe I come down here from my posh suburban surroundings, to reconnect with my roots, to stay grounded, remember where I come from. Yea I used to watch the Fresh Prince of Belair too but that’s not why I’m down here.

I’ve been driving around in circles for hours and I’m starving now. The smell of all this food in the air is getting to me. I park my car and head to one of my favorite spots to get some chicken and a pile of rib tips to go. As I leave the restaurant and head back to my car I spot a girl walking in my direction. She’s white.
A lone white girl amidst a sea of black and brown faces happily strolling down the block. She stops to say hi and talks to some of the people sitting outside. She walks by some of the guys cat calling her. What’s her response? She winks and gives a little pat on her backside.
She’s thin, really thin, and really pale. Her hair is a mess of brown and blonde curls forming into locks hanging just past her neck. She’s natural ,no makeup, and average looking, thick eyebrows and thin lips. Her dirty pink t-shirt hangs off her bare shoulder and her little denim shorts are hanging off her hips. I can clearly see the waistband of her underwear peeking out the top. Her legs are toothpicks wrapped in fishnets and it seems that she has lost her shoes. Her barefoot walk is energetic and flirtatious. She stands out from the crowd not just because she’s white and not just because she’s dressed like some shoe-less, slutty, hippie, gutter punk. It’s her energy. She’s absolutely beaming and looks as if she could break out in song and dance any second. A smile is stretched across her face, she’s greeting everyone who passes by. That kind of warmth and approach-ability to me is waaay more attractive than a pretty face and a big set of jugs, which she had neither.

I’m standing in the street clutching to my open car door, grinning like an idiot, staring her down. When she’s within earshot I finally say hi. She turns, looks at me, and her face lights up as if she recognized me.
“Hi! What are you up to?”
I tell her I’m just grabbing some food.
“Mm hmm that’s not all you’re up to. I know that look.
I play dumb and ask her what happened to her shoes. She doesn’t answer.
“Hey do you think you could give me a ride?”
I tell her to hop in and introduce myself.
“Nice to meet you I’m, Bridgette”. (Real name)

Now that ladies and gentlemen is why I’m really down here. Not to reconnect to my roots, or stay grounded, not even for these goddamn amazing plate of rib tips. I’m down here in this neighborhood day and night, rain or shine on the chance that I might run into Bridgette . . . or Candice, or Shawnda, Shannon, Luisa, whoever. Did you notice, by the way, how she didn’t answer my question about her missing shoes? I often talk about weird patterns that emerge from years of picking up hundreds of streetwalkers. This is one of them. A few times a year I run into women who are just walking down the street barefoot. It’s always weird and the sight of it always gets me aroused. Yeah, that’s right barefoot women get my dick hard. So What? Anyway, sometimes these women are prostitutes but sometimes they’re not. What’s crazy is even the ones who are not prostitutes will accept rides from me and on a few occasions ended up sleeping with me. I think I’ve written one or two old stories about this if anyone’s interested. In every single case I always asked what happened to their shoes. Not a single one of them has ever answered me. Instead they’ve all asked me for either a cigarette or a ride. Weird right? Don’t know why I brought that up but let’s get back to the story.

Oh wait before we get back to the story I always like to include pics or vids to help you guys visualize. This is webcam girl “Ronni Panda” aka “RockItRonni” and she looks alot like Bridget. Bridget has a similar face, that nose is spot on, same tight body even down to the nipple rings. The main difference was Bridgette had dreadlocks. Hell from the vids I’ve seen with her they even seem to have similar personalities. Though I think Bridgette has a bit more of an edge to her.

Prostitute Stories: Mom/Dad in Next Room
https://www.xvideos.com/video36720027/daddy_panda_mashing_the_panda_girls_bubble_butt

Ok now back to the story.

Bridgette lives in the projects it’s about a 20 minute drive from where we are. She explains she was just going over to pick something up from her friend’s place (this always turns out to mean getting d**gs). Then her friend ditched her and she had no way to get back home.
“Oh my god look at those clouds. It looks like it’s going to rain.”
She sticks her head out the passenger window.
“It is going to rain! OMG! I love the rain!”
Within the 20 minutes that it took to drive over there the weather changed drastically from a perfect bright sunny day to a complete downpour. We get to her place and I search my car for an umbrella Bridgette hopped out of the car before I could find it.
She’s in the middle of the street twirling and laughing. Her head lifted toward the sky, her off kilter pirouettes causing her to trip and fall into the puddles. She is loving every second of it. I walk over to her, bone dry under my umbrella, and help her up. She continues to skip and dance her way over to her apartment building. She rings the buzzer.
“Mom it’s me! Let us in!” The front door buzzes and we make our way up to her floor.

She’s drenched and shivering by the time we enter her apartment. It’s a small one bedroom. There’s an older, large, woman with short white hair sitting on a recliner and a big man unshaven falling asleep on the sofa in front of the TV.
“This is my friend we’re going to be in my room so please don’t bother us.”
The father could care less but the mother gives Bridgette a funny look.
“Don’t start mom! . . . Oh and if Josh comes by just tell him I’m not here. Don’t let him in!”
The mom looks over at me with a scowl. Now might be a good time to point out that Bridgette was probably 19, 20, maybe 21 I can’t remember exactly. I was a bit younger back then but I was still probably too old to be messing around with a 20 year old. I’m pretty sure this was the reason for mom’s stink eye.

We go into her bedroom there’s clutter all over the place. Squeezed right next to the window is a twin box-spring and mattress.
“Here have a seat. I’m going to jump in the shower and get changed.”
She looked and smelled like a wet dog so I was happy to hear that.
“Which one of these do you like better?”
She pulled out a handful of small, dainty, strappy, lacy, looking things. I pointed to the white ones. She took her clothes off, grabbed the underwear, and some towels and ran to the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back”
I start my usual ritual of catching up on messages and playing games on my phone while waiting for her to get out of the bathroom. These moments waiting for the girl to shower always seem to take a lifetime when you know you’re about to have sex.

Prostitute Stories: Mom/Dad in Next Room 2
Bridgette walks into the room clutching her towel and once the door closes it drops to the floor. Holy shit! She was wearing a sheer white bra and panties her skinny little body looks amazing. Her bra leaves nothing to the imagination I can clearly see her bright pink pierced nipples from the other side of the room. She’s surprisingly hairier than I would have imagined her panties can barely hold in the brown bush between her legs. She throws her clothes to the side and by the time they hit the floor you can hear her mother screaming.
“Girl! I don’t know what the hell you think you’re going to do in there!”
“Shut the fuck up MOM!!”
She swings the door open storms into the living room standing over her mother pointing, cursing, and screaming. I sit on the bed uncomfortably watching the argument. From this angle I can see her panties are in fact a g-string. The father occasionally pulls his stare from the TV and glances over at me and I’m overcome with a deep sense of shame. What the fuck am I doing here? Why do I constantly allow myself to listen to these whores and let them take me to the strangest places.
‘Yea I live with my mom and dad but I’ve got my own room. We’ll have privacy. They know what I do. They’ll be cool about it trust me.’
What the fuck was I thinking listening to her?

Prostitute Stories: Mom/Dad in Next Room 3
“I swear to god you better not say anything to him about this! Why can’t you just leave me alone! I fucking hate you!”
She storms back in slamming the door behind her and begins pacing the room in circles murmuring to herself, wiping away tears. I sit there staring at her in silence clothed, horny, embarrassed, and confused as to how I’m going to get this moody 20 year old girl to stop crying and start sucking my dick.
She collapses on the bed beside me sobbing. You guys have seen me in this situation before sitting next to an emotionally raw woman and consoling her after she’s shared some god awful trauma with me from years of working the streets. Yea that’s not what this is though. This is a little brat crying crocodile tears because she doesn’t want to listen to mommy and daddy. I know what she wants. She wants me to put my arm around her and tell her she’s right. I can’t console her though because I have no sympathy for her. I’m not down with this temper tantrum she’s throwing in fact I agree with her mother. What the fuck is she doing bringing me, a much older stranger, into her home, into her bedroom?! She obviously has a boyfriend and a family who cares about her. If I was her parent I’d be yelling at her too.
She lifts her head and looks up at me, her pale face now flush red, those big, tear filled, glassy, eyes staring directly into mine. I know exactly what she wants and . . . I cave in and put my arms around her. I tell her everything’s going to be alright. She whales loudly into my chest. God dammit I’m such a sucker.

My opinion didn’t change I still think she’s acting like a spoiled brat. Let’s face it I’m a man and you can’t fight mother nature. The sound of her crying triggered some kind of Pavlovian response. The second that girl looked into my eyes something snapped deep down in my caveman brain and putting my arms around her was more of a reflex than a conscious decision.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining your date this is probably the last thing you needed. I don’t know why they can’t just let me live my life? I wish they would just fucking die!”
I sat and listened to her complain. At first about her parents and then about her boyfriend and then their neighborhood. This led into a rant which led to some stream of consciousness, dream speech about a fantasy life where she was free from her parents and responsibilities. I sat and listened to all of this nonsense mostly daydreaming and then out of the blue she kissed me. I leaned back and she laid on top of me kissing and sucking my neck, pulling at my shirt. I fumbled around with my belt trying to get it off as she kissed my chest and sucked my nipples. I kicked my jeans off into the endless pit of garbage below. She looked back at me with those big eyes no longer glassy or watery but smiling, twinkling as she made her way down between my legs. She slowly opened her lips and licked my head then placed it inside her mouth very carefully but precisely sucking the tip. She slowly took more and more of it into her mouth as I grew harder. After a minute or two her head popped up.
“Do you have a condom?”
I didn’t.
“Shit! I don’t think I have any. Are you clean?”
I was (and still am) clean.
“Wait, no no no we can’t do that. It’s not right. Oh wait! Hold on.”

She hops off of me and starts rummaging through all the trash on her floor until she finds it. She pulls out a small gym bag and starts throwing the contents on the floor and sure enough some condoms fall out.
“I don’t think he’ll notice if one is missing. We don’t really use them anymore.”
She hands me what appear to be her boyfriend’s condoms and asks me to put it on then gets to work getting me hard again. I fumble with the packaging, no matter how often I use these things it’s like the first time every time. Once it’s on she perches over me carefully descending until I’m inside of her. She starts riding me slowly and undoes that sheer little bra. Fuck! Her body is incredible. Her pink nipples are the only splotch of color on her milky white skin. Little glints of light bounce off her piercings as her body rocks back and forth on top of me. Bridgette smiles then leans back lifting her head towards the water stained ceiling. She lifts her arms and runs her hands through her matted hair exposing the little furry tufts under her armpits. I eagerly reach up and squeeze her plump little breasts. She lets out a little scream and recoils grabbing my hands.
“Not so rough. They’re sensitive. Here, like this.”
She places my hands over her breasts gently massaging them. She moaned with delight I can feel her nipples grow hard, her piercings skating across the palm of my hands. She rocks back and forth in my lap. I grab her by the hips pushing and pulling her into me. She falls flat against me burying her face into my shoulder doing her best to cover her muffled cries.

I’m not sure how much of this is real and how much she’s doing for my benefit either way I’m enjoying it. I flip her on her stomach and tell her to bend over. I’ll admit I have a preference for thick, curvy, women with big round butts. Over the years though I’ve grown to admire thinner figures. In particular the way a small frame like hers looks bent over those tight little cheeks naturally spreading apart exposing her pale pink asshole. I wanted to shove myself inside of her so bad. I slap my engorged head between her cheeks to see what she’d do. She pulled away immediately giggling.
“No we can’t do that I’m not ready for that yet.”
“There’s a first time for everything”.
“I don’t know. Maybe if we get to know each other better. We just met.”
That was her nice way of saying ‘Hell no not going to happen’.

Prostitute Stories: Mom/Dad in Next Room 4
I pull her back and slide into her hairy wet pussy then grab a handful of her curly locks and start pounding away. Smacking my pelvis into her bony little ass the sound of our flesh echoing through the room. She hits me, then grabs me by the thigh. She wants me to stop. Shit I lost myself for a second forgetting where we were. Mom and dad were just outside the room. It’s not as if they don’t know what we were doing but still I’m not trying to throw it in their faces. I’m doing my best to pump my dick in and out of her sticky hairy hole without making a sound I push myself deep inside of her, emptying my balls and collapsing on her back.
“Oh my god you’re crushing me I can’t breathe”.
I laughed and rolled off of her onto my back trying to catch my breath.
“I’m going to go wash up again. Here, give me that.”
She carefully leaned over me and pulled the condom off, then held it up to the light I’m guessing to make sure it didn’t break.
“Oh my god when’s the last time you had sex”.
“Yea I know it’s been a while”. I was lying.
She headed to the bathroom her mom gave her an earful the second she opened the door. I started sifting through her junkyard of a floor looking for my pants. When she returned I was halfway dressed.
“What!? You’re leaving already!?”

I was surprised by her response. This is how dates go. You pay, you fuck, you leave. Normally the girls are the ones trying to kick you out before you’re even done.
“Yea I’ve got a bit of a drive to get back home.”
“I thought you were going to hang out for a while. This sucks I don’t usually meet people like you I can talk to. You know like regular guys. You sure you can’t stay?”
Holy shit she was actually pouting. I couldn’t tell if I was annoyed by this girl or attracted to her but the second she revealed she genuinely wanted me to stay with her I completely fell for her. The truth is that I didn’t need to be anywhere so I sat back down on the bed and told her I could stay a little while longer. She was excited, she plopped down on the bed grabbed a bag and asked If I wanted to smoke. I glance down and In her dainty little hand I can see that she’s clutching onto a lighter and a used crack pipe. I declined.

I remember when I used to be disgusted at the site of a woman smoking crack or meth or shooting up. At this point I was so used to it that I actually enjoyed the ritual. She sits back with her head rested against my chest cleaning and packing her pipe. My arm is d****d around her waist my fingers gently stroking her hips, my other hand stroking her hair. She continues talking about her fantasy life which shifts into more spacey, spiritual, topics like stars, planets, god, crystals. I’m barely paying attention just trying to soak in the moment and enjoy the affection of a young girl and her naked body resting against mine. I’m drifting in and out of the conversation staring out the window watching the morphing, stormy cloud formations then on the droplets tracing their path down the window pane. I’m snapped back to reality when a billowy puff of smoke hovers in front of my face. I hold my breath.

The conversation is making less sense as she continues to get high. Bridgette, now completely stoned, gets up and stumbles toward the door, flings it open, and walks into the living room completely naked. She walked over to her mother and handed her the pipe and lighter, then to her dad, bent over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She returned to the room and as she closed the door I could see her mother lighting up to take a hit. She falls on top of me I wrap my arms around her. We continue talking and eventually we fall asleep.

It’s several hours later when we finally wake up. Do you know how awesome it is to slowly wake up and realize a naked 20 year old girl is sleeping on top of you? I drift in and out of sleep but slowly awaken when I feel this growing hunger. My eyes pop open. THE RIBS! I forgot I had the food in the car and I haven’t eaten all day.
“Bridgette, hey girl I have to get up.”
“Just one more minute Joshy and I’ll . . .” She called me by her boyfriend’s name.
“Hey Bridgette.”
She yawns and looks at me confused and then she smiles.
“Oh it’s you . . . Hey what’s your name again?”
I get up and get dressed while Bridgette runs around the room looking for something. She digs her hand in a pile of clothing and eventually comes up with a phone. We exchange numbers. She wraps herself in a towel and walks me out the door. We stand in the hallway saying our goodbyes. She was very sweet and asked me several times to come see her again. She kissed me and hugged me tightly around the neck then went back inside. As I walked down the stairs I could hear her mother screaming at her. I saw Bridgette 3 or 4 more times after that unfortunately like most of these girls she was too unreliable to see regularly. Most times I would call and could not get a hold of her. She would call me at awkward hours begging me to stop by at like 3:00 or 4:00am or while I was at work. A couple months later I called so to meet up and she told me she left home. She ran off with her boyfriend to another state, she thanked me and said she’d miss me and that was the last time I’d ever talk to her.

-H123

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