Thong Girls
Chapter 1 — A Dirty Job
No one knows where it first started. Some people say they’re not sure how it will all end.
It first came to my desk not quite three months ago. It was a slow news day which when you’re a reporter like me is never a good thing. Anyway, I was sitting at my desk trying to think of something pithy to say for the column I was writing when Mathilda Gruff was brought to my desk.
Now if the mere name Mathilda Gruff conjures up the image of a middle-aged busy body who probably hadn’t been laid in months, then you already know what Mathilda Gruff looks like. For those of you who didn’t get that image, let me say that Mathilda Gruff was a middle-aged busy body who hadn’t been laid in months.
I motioned for Mathilda to take a seat for the very simple reason that I didn’t want her to see the game of solitaire that I had been playing on my computer. “Can I help you,” I asked.
“I want you to shut them down.”
Quite reasonably, I asked, “Shut who down?”
“Them,” she said. “Those coffee houses. I want you to shut them down.”
“What coffee houses?”
Mathilda Gruff’s sigh left little to my imagination. In her mind, I was undoubtedly the stupidest man she’d ever met, or at least, I was the stupidest man she’d met in the last ten minutes. “I want you to shut them down,” she said. “I want you to shut down the thong girl coffee houses.”
There was an obvious question and since it was an obvious question and since I’m a reporter who is paid to ask the obvious questions, I asked it. “What’s a thong girl coffee house?”
Mathilda Gruff looked at me as if I was so stupid and she gave me another one of her sighs before she finally answered. “The girls in the coffee shops are wearing thongs and ... and other things. Revealling things. Disgusting things designed to tittilate the customers.”
I wasn’t sure if that, exactly, was what Mathilda had in mind but she certainly had my interest. “Tittilate the customers,” I asked. “Which coffee shop did you say this was?”
“It’s not just one coffee shop. It’s all of them. They’re all just a bunch of smut havens.”
“Well, if it’s all of them, then it sounds like what you really want is to shut down all coffee houses.”
She gave me yet another of her sighs that was designed to tell me just how stupid I was. “I don’t want them to be shut down. I just want them to stop peddling their smut.”
“Smut, Mrs. Gruff. Really?”
“Yes, really. Those girls are sluts, and the thongs were just the beginning.”
“The beginning?”
Mathilda Gruff nodded emphatically. She was certainly warming to her task now. “The thongs were only the beginning. I think they’re competing with one another, trying to outdo the other and I’ve been seeing those thong girls having S-E-X.”
“I see. Would that be with each other or with the customers?”
“Don’t you dismiss me,” she told me. “I will not be trifled with.”
“I understand, Mrs. Gruff, and I assure you, we will be looking into it.”
She looked at me as if she were trying to assess just how likely I was to do what I said I was going to do and then she gave me a sniff and she got up. “I’ve got my eye on you, Mr. McAdams,” she said finally. “I expect you to follow through.”
I told her I would and I kept my face as straight as I could until I’d finally ushered her out of my office, and it was only after I’d sat back down that I finally let myself laugh. Actually, it was sad really. Here was this woman that thought girls were having sex in coffee houses merely because of the type of underwear they wore. Sad, I thought again, but hardly worth my time.
And it might have ended there except that on my way home from work, I was stopped at a traffic light and in front of me on the right was a coffee house. I could have passed it by but Mathilda Gruff was still fresh in my mind and on a whim, when the light changed green, I moved forward and pulled into the coffee shop’s parking lot.
The first thing I noticed when I got there was the noise. There was music playing and someone had turned it up louder than it should be. I’ve always hated that and I made a mental note of it, almost as if I were getting ready to write a review of the place.
The place was crowded, more crowded than I would have thought it might be but as I took my place in line, I didn’t see a single thong.
As the line moved forward, I looked around me. As far as I could tell, sex was not running rampant among the patrons of this coffee house, at least.
And then it was my turn at the front of the line. I freely admit that this research was highly non-scientific but I put in my order. “Say,” I told the girl taking the orders, “someone told me you guys were wearing thongs in here.” Man, I felt stupid saying that.
“You want to see my thong,” said the girl asked the counter.
“Yes, I mean no, I mean, I was just asking you know. I mean, I don’t want to cause any trouble, you know.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the girl said. She already had her jeans opened and she was pushing them down past her hips. “See,” she said. “Here it is.”
I certainly did see. The girl was wearing a little, yellow thong.
“I, um, I ... thanks for showing that to me.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the girl said. “All you had to do was ask.”
I couldn’t help but notice the look that the girl who was making my drink gave me when she finally handed it over. If I didn’t know better, I would have said she looked hurt.
I took my drink and found a place in the corner to sit and think. To tell the truth, if I went to a coffee house at all, which was rare enough as it was, I would have taken my drink to go, but this was a fact finding trip so I took my drink and went and sat in the corner.
The crowd seemed to be dying down. I figured I’d probably caught the tail end of the after work crowd and it was too early for the night out crowd, and that was just fine with me.
The girl behind the counter came up to me. “Can I sit here,” she asked.
“Sure.”
The girl slid into a seat. “I think Gina’s mad at you,” she said.
“Gina,” I asked. “Who’s Gina?”
“She’s the one who makes the drinks. Well, we both do, but she does it more than me.”
I nodded. “So why is Gina mad at me.”
“Gina’s wearing a G-string. She told me I should stop wearing jeans like she has. She said that’s the way to get myself noticed, but you asked about my thong, instead. Did you like it, by the way?”
“Like what?”
“My thong. Did you like it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It looks great.”
“I’m glad. I only bought it last week so I was hoping it looked good.”
“It looks great,” I assured her.
“I’m glad.”
“So, um, so this might be a personal question, but do all the girls here ...”
“Do all the girls wear thongs or g-strings?”
“Oh no.”
“No?”
“Sure. Some girls wear nothing at all but I can’t do that?”
I shook my head. I just wasn’t sure I’d heard what I thought I’d heard. “Can’t do what?”
“You know. Wear nothing at all. I mean, we’re making coffee back there. What if something splashes out. That is one place I don’t want to get burned, but if you want to know what I mean, all you got to do is look at Sophie.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Who’s Sophie,” I asked.
“Oh, she’s not here right now, but she’ll be in later but if you want to see her pussy, all you got to do is ask. Speaking of which ...”
It took me a second to realize what she was doing. “No wait,” I said.
But she was already leaning closer and her hand was already between my legs. “Come on,” she said. “We all know why guys like you come in here.”
I wanted to tell her no but she already had her hand in my lap.
“Oooh,” she purred. “What do we have in here?”
I groaned. I knew I should tell her no, but I just couldn’t.
I could feel her sliding my zipper down and then she was pushing her hand inside my pants and she was wrapping her hand around my cock.
“Do you want me to suck on this,” she asked.
I knew I should have said no but I said nothing and I guess as far as the girl was concerned, that was as good as a yes because that was all it took for her to haul my cock out into the light.
Her hand stroked me and she looked up at me. “I’m really going to like this,” she told me, and then as if to make sure I believed what she said, she opened her mouth and she slid herself down around my cock.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’d come in there to do a little research but almost from the moment she got her mouth down around my cock, from that moment on, all I could think of was how good her mouth felt around my cock.
And she wasn’t stopping, either. Slow and steady, that’s the way she was doing it, and it just felt so good.
I suppose I should have been looking around, looking around and seeing if anyone was watching me but the truth was as soon as that girl had her mouth on my cock, I couldn’t think of anything else except for what her mouth felt like, and I knew I wanted to do it. I knew I wanted to cum in her mouth.
And still, she kept on sucking.
Oh God. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I knew I should have warned her what was coming, but I didn’t.
She had to know what I was doing and yet she just kept sucking my cock even as I continued to cum in her mouth. Fuck, that felt good.
And the most amazing thing was she just kept right on sucking even as I continued to cum. I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t just sucking but she was swallowing, too.
She pulled her mouth up off of me and she flashed me a shy, little grin. “How was that,” she asked. “Did I do a good job?”
Did she what? Was she serious? She’d just given me the best blow job I’d ever got, (okay, the only blow job I’d ever got,) and yet here she was asking me if she’d done a good job and yet just by looking at her, I could tell, she really wanted to know. “Yeah,” I told her. “Yeah. You did great.”
I couldn’t help but notice that her hand hadn’t left my cock. She gave my cock a squeeze. “I’m glad,” she said. “I’ve only been working here a couple of weeks, but I’m really glad to hear you say that.”
“Do you want something,” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
“What do you want?”
Her hand squeezed my cock. “Well, I was wondering ...”
“You were wondering what?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to do something else.”
Okay, I’m not dumb, but really, I had no idea what she was talking about. “Something else,” I asked.
Her hand squeezed my cock. “You know,” she said coyly. “Something else. Something ... more.”
I still didn’t get it. “Something ... wait a minute! You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
Her hand continued to stroke my cock. “I don’t know,” she said. “It all depends on what you think I’m asking. What do you think I’m asking?”
What was I thinking? Was she just toying with me? Screw with the reporter. Nah. She didn’t even know I was a reporter. Maybe she was just screwing with me for no other reason than that was what she wanted to do. The only thing I didn’t think she was playing me. I thought she really meant it. “I think you’re telling me you want to have sex with me.”
She didn’t stop. Her hand kept stroking my cock. “Then I guess we’re talking about the same thing.”
I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “Where do you want to go,” I asked.
“Go?”
“Yeah. Where do you want to go?”
“But I can’t go anywhere. I’m still on duty.”
“But I don’t ... wait a minute. You mean you want to do it here?”
Her hand had never stopped stroking my cock and she wasn’t stopping now. “Why not,” she asked.
“Why not? This is a public place for one thing. People might see.”
“So?”
“So this is a public place,” I repeated.
Her hand continued to stroke my cock. “So let me get this straight. It’s okay for you to let me suck your cock but it’s not okay for you to let me ride your cock.” Her hand squeezed my rigid member. “Come on,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t know what you want.” Her hand gave my cock another squeeze. “I can tell what you want.”
Okay, she had me there.
“Come on,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”
“I ... I’m not going to do that.”
“Come on,” she said. “It’ll be my first time, too.”
“Your first time?”
“I’ve only been working here a couple of weeks, you know, but I want you to be my first.”
I couldn’t help wondering if that was just a line that she told all the guys but I had to admit that if it was a line, she delivered it well.
“Come on,” she said again and she punctuated that with another squeeze of my cock, “I want to ride you. It’ll be fun.”
I couldn’t believe I was even considering it but to my credit, I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said.
The girl seemed genuinely hurt. “It’s because you like Gina better, isn’t it? I’ll bet you’d let her come over here and suck your dick, wouldn’t you, and I’d bet you’d let her ride your dick, too.”
Over the girl’s shoulder, I could see Gina watching her. “What, no,” I told her.
“No? So you do want to fuck me?”
Actually, yes, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
And she wasn’t about to let it drop either. “Well,” she asked as she stroked my cock. “Which is it? Do you want me to fuck you?”
Still, I said nothing.
Her hand was stroking me harder and she was looking me in the eyes. “You know you can’t get away with saying nothing,” she said. “You’re going to have to say something.”
I was finding it so hard to think with what her hand was doing to my cock.
“Come on. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” I hadn’t even realized I’d said it. It just leaked out but suddenly, there it was. Yes, I wanted her to fuck me.
If I’d expected anything to change with my admission, I was going to find out just how wrong I was because at first, nothing changed. She was still there, stroking my cock and I was still there, moaning as she did it.
She leaned in close and her mouth was almost up against my ear but her hand never left my cock. “Is Gina still watching,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“Good, ‘cause she’s been teasing me long enough. I want her to see this.”
She pulled back. “Let me take your pants off,” she said.
It was my last chance. I could have stopped her if I wanted to, but the truth was I didn’t want to. I let her take my pants off and I let her take my underwear down.
Her hand was back again on my cock. “Do you like it when I do this,” she asked.
I’ll admit it. I pretty much wasn’t thinking anymore, or if I was thinking, the only thing I was thinking about was her hand on my cock. “Yeah,” I told her. “I like it. I like it a lot.”
“Do you want to see my pussy?”
She already knew what my answer was going to be even before I said it. “Yeah,” I told her. “I want to see your pussy.”
She hesitated for just a moment and then she stood. I watched her take off her jeans and once more, I got another look at her bright, yellow thong, but it was only for a moment, because moments later, her thong was on top of her jeans and she was climbing onto my lap.
Her legs straddled mine and once more, she wrapped her fingers around my cock. “I really want to feel this,” she murmured.
She wasn’t waiting for a reply from me because I could feel her pussy moving into place. She still held my cock even as she moved the head of it between my lips and then she finally relinquished her hold on it even as she pushed her pussy down upon my shaft.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned and to tell the truth, I had to agree with her. Oh fuck indeed. Her pussy felt so good around my cock.
She was working herself even deeper onto my cock and there was something that was just so hot about having a girl try and push her pussy down on my cock.
She seemed to have gotten as much as me as she could inside her pussy and for a moment, she just stayed where she was, almost as if she were getting used to the feel of me inside her pussy. Hell, for all I know, maybe that was exactly what was going through her mind.
She started slowly at first, pulling her pussy up and then thrusting herself back down again but with every cycle of that pussy, she took me a little harder and a little faster.
“How’s that,” she moaned. “How do you like that pussy?”
“’T’s good,” I moaned back.
“Yeah,” she moaned. “Yeah, it’s good.”
I couldn’t agree with her more.
“I love the feel of your cock. I love the feel of it between my legs.”
That made two of us, I thought.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh God. Grab my ass.”
“W-what?”
“You heard me,” she moaned. “Grab my ass. I want to feel it. I want to feel your hands on my ass.”
I grabbed her ass.
“Squeeze me,” she moaned. “Squeeze me.”
“Huh.”
“Squeeze me,” she said again. “Squeeze me. I want you to squeeze my ass.”
The girl moaned as my hands squeezed her butt.
“I want you to make me cum,” the girl moaned.
That made two of us, I thought.
“I want you to make me cum,” the girl moaned again even as she rode me harder.
I didn’t know about her but I was pretty sure about me. The way her pussy was riding my cock, I was surprised I hadn’t cum already.
“Make me cum,” she begged. “Make me cum.”
I could feel it happening. I could feel the pressure building up inside of me. I couldn’t stop it and I knew I didn’t want to stop it.
“Make me cum.”
I could feel my cock surge. I could feel myself cumming inside that tight, little pussy. I couldn’t help myself and to be honest, I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to feel what it felt like to cum inside that tight, little pussy.
“Oh God,” the girl moaned. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” And that’s when I got it. Her pussy just wasn’t tight. Her pussy was even tighter than it had been before. “Oh God,” the girl moaned yet again. “Oh God, that’s it. Make me cum. Make me cum. Make me ... me ... oh God, yeah, make me cum.”
Really, to be honest, I wasn’t doing much of anything. I supplied the dick but everything else, she’d done herself, but then I wasn’t about to remind her of that.
“Oh God,” she moaned yet again. “Oh God, that’s good. Make me cum. Make me cum.”
She collapsed against me and I remember thinking that it would have been nice if she’d taken her shirt off first because then I would have been able to see her tits.
My cock was starting to lose some of its rigidity and she pulled back, trying to hold me inside her pussy, but my cock wouldn’t stay put, and I could feel it as it slipped free from her pussy’s warm and wet embrace. She leaned down and kissed me and then she kissed me again before she finally pulled back. “That was fun,” she said.
Fun was hardly the word for it, I thought.
“And to think,” she went on, “not all that long ago, I wouldn’t have done this.”
“Huh?”
“I said not that long ago, I wouldn’t have done something like this.”
There was something in that, something that seemed to set off bells and whistles in my reporter’s mind. “You wouldn’t have done it,” I said. “Then why are you doing it now?”
“I don’t know. I just am.”
That wasn’t a good enough answer. I knew it and I think she did, too. “Something must have changed,” I said. “What changed?”
“Huh?”
“Something had to have changed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
She was starting to get antsy and I could tell my questions were upsetting her. To be honest, I don’t think she even knew the whole truth but I had to try to get it out of her. “What changed,” I asked again.
“I don’t know.”
“When did it happen?”
“When did what happen?”
“When did things start to change?”
“When did what start to change?”
“You said things changed. When did they change.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. About two weeks ago, I guess.”
“About two weeks ... you mean, about when you started working here, right?”
“I guess.”
That’s when it all started to come together. What Mathilda Gruff had said. She wasn’t just some crazy, old woman. She was right. There was something going on in the coffee houses. Something that was turning girls into sluts, and I was going to have to find out what it was, even if it meant I had to go to investigate every single thong girl in every single coffee house.
It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.