Serial Rapist
You bike around a bit looking for lone women and women walking in groups. You don't know if that's how its supposed to work.
You bike up next to women and stutter out how you want to taste their pussy - how you want to pound it. You've got money - they can have it if they'll let you play.
You haven't gotten a single good reaction. You had assumed the slum-queens would have at least bothered asking how much. Mostly you find it surprising how many women call you a "queer" or "fag" for trying to solicit their services.
You target everyone who isn't a unfuckably ugly. Some are old enough to be your mother, others probably just got into High School.
You can't help but panic on the inside. If you hit on some black maniac's girlfriend, he'll probably come chase you down. You cling to your bike and always look around you.
You try a couple more women. This time you pull your money out to show them. The same reactions. Ugh, this doesn't work. All of the adults constantly talk about how easy it is and how evil it is, like they'd know. After biking in this run-down place for hours asking any woman worth having, you've got nothing but disgust as a response.
You try with wounded optimism for another hour. "Hey... I have some money here. I'd really like some pussy. I have a couple hundred bucks here that I'm willing to give to you if you just let me fuck you. I have condoms."
You don't know what time it is, you left your watch at home. You do know that it just started getting dark and that there aren't nearly as many people about. And it's getting cold.
Defeated, you turn your bike back and start peddling.
Your eyes recollect buildings you passed getting deeper into the area. There is a lot less redundancy in poor-trodden areas. Back in your neighborhood every house looks mostly the same.
"Hey you! You want a hann-job?!" A woman yells behind you.
You turn you head to look. There was a new woman next to one you had solicited earlier. Word had gotten around? No police had arrived or anything, so...
You slow down you bike and turn it around, then glide to a halt next to the women; trying to look at least a little cool.
The woman is a girl, probably 15 by her looks. She has a nice chest and long legs. She's wearing an uncomfortable amount of make-up.
"Tatana wants to give you a hann-job!", the girl you solicited states for her friend. "How much will you give her for a hann-job?"
A "hann-job" isn't really what you wanted. You can give yourself a hand-job any time you want. Getting one would make today a victory though - and maybe you can convince her to give you something more after she gets warmed up.
You bike up next to women and stutter out how you want to taste their pussy - how you want to pound it. You've got money - they can have it if they'll let you play.
You haven't gotten a single good reaction. You had assumed the slum-queens would have at least bothered asking how much. Mostly you find it surprising how many women call you a "queer" or "fag" for trying to solicit their services.
You target everyone who isn't a unfuckably ugly. Some are old enough to be your mother, others probably just got into High School.
You can't help but panic on the inside. If you hit on some black maniac's girlfriend, he'll probably come chase you down. You cling to your bike and always look around you.
You try a couple more women. This time you pull your money out to show them. The same reactions. Ugh, this doesn't work. All of the adults constantly talk about how easy it is and how evil it is, like they'd know. After biking in this run-down place for hours asking any woman worth having, you've got nothing but disgust as a response.
You try with wounded optimism for another hour. "Hey... I have some money here. I'd really like some pussy. I have a couple hundred bucks here that I'm willing to give to you if you just let me fuck you. I have condoms."
You don't know what time it is, you left your watch at home. You do know that it just started getting dark and that there aren't nearly as many people about. And it's getting cold.
Defeated, you turn your bike back and start peddling.
Your eyes recollect buildings you passed getting deeper into the area. There is a lot less redundancy in poor-trodden areas. Back in your neighborhood every house looks mostly the same.
"Hey you! You want a hann-job?!" A woman yells behind you.
You turn you head to look. There was a new woman next to one you had solicited earlier. Word had gotten around? No police had arrived or anything, so...
You slow down you bike and turn it around, then glide to a halt next to the women; trying to look at least a little cool.
The woman is a girl, probably 15 by her looks. She has a nice chest and long legs. She's wearing an uncomfortable amount of make-up.
"Tatana wants to give you a hann-job!", the girl you solicited states for her friend. "How much will you give her for a hann-job?"
A "hann-job" isn't really what you wanted. You can give yourself a hand-job any time you want. Getting one would make today a victory though - and maybe you can convince her to give you something more after she gets warmed up.