Pussyboy

Now

I never thought that having sex with Zayn would really shit my life. Maybe I had it coming, maybe.

"Dad, can I have oreos?"

That's my son. That's his son. That's our son.

Looking at him, he was a beautiful boy. He was gorgeous young boy that looked so much like his other father.

Dark hair, dark eyes and a tan complexion. Like Zayn, everything turned out dark too. I lost my family after they discovered I was carrying a child. I thought that I was stupid then but yeah, I'm an idiot.

I couldn't have used a condom. I was stupid afterwards too. I thought that maybe I could be one of those success stories of pregnant and jobless. I thought that this could motivate me to do stuff. I know it sounds crazy. Maybe I am.

Point is, I just wanted maybe a shot of a better life. I knew the good life required a ton of sacrifice and I was willing to do it.

Shortly after I got pregnant, Zayn disappeared. I never heard from him again. Course, I avoided going to reunions. I knew those shits - my classmates - talked shit behind my back. So, I never knew what really happened to him. But I still have that fantasy of him.

The good ol' days when sex was currency for me. When the school was my little own mansions of devious and kinky sex.

I'd have sex in the locker rooms with a few guys and I'd be a typical school slut, you know. In the janitor's closet too.

"Dad!"

"What?"

"I was asking you the whole time."

"Yeah, yeah."

I went out the door and into my car. I turned on the engine and heard it weeze like a fucking horse. I sighed. I turned the key again and hoped that it'd revv up. It still weezed and weezed until I settled to just grab a cab or the bus. Whatever. I had no time to fix shitty cars.

I started walking. I saw a dried leaf here, there, everywhere. The coat I wore, thankfully, kept me warm for this chilly weather.

The bus stop was close. There was a man standing there in a suit. I saw that bus was near too so I jog to catch up with it.

I got ther quite early and sighed. I thought that I was going to miss the bus.

The man in the suit chuckled at me. I didn't show humor in these situations. I looked at him.

Beard and greased hair. Crease lines in his forehead. A serious tone in his eyes. Full lips. Tall. Broad shoulders. If he was filthy rich, I'd let him fuck me hard. I just wish there was an enormous cock hiding under that suit.

We made eye contact. I squinted my eyes at him. I didn't like that he found it funny that I had catch up a bus.

"Not funny," I told him off.

"It is though. The bus is like meters away still, you know, and you had to jog."

"Rich people," I quietly said to myself.

"I'm not rich, though"

"I wasn't asking."

"Feisty, you are." He commented. Then, he held his hand out. "I'm James."

"What makes you think that I want to be friends?"

He smiled widely at me. "Just being nice is all."

"Well then," I started. "I'm a pussyboy."

His demeanor changed and I thought he was going to rebuff me. Then, he smirked at me. He leaned into my ear and whispered, "I'd like to keep that in mind, pussyboy."

I was surprised at what he whispered. Just as I was to retort back at him, a limo pulled up at the stop and he went inside but not before rolling down the window and handing me a business card.

"I'd really like to taunt you again, pussyboy. So here's my card. Call or text me if your pussy needs a man. I mean it."

I was stunned. A random stranger - a rich one at that - just offered to fuck me after just one topicless encounter.

The limo soon disappeared out of my sight. Then, the bus stopped in front of me and I got on, thinking the whole journey about this mysterious rich stranger who offered to fuck my pussy.