I put my 7 3/4” cut and stiff beauty back into my Vicy’s black satin panties and pull down my black leather mini skirt. I don’t “tuck” it back, rather I pull the panties snug against it and hold my purse in front to obscure the view from the front. I bend down to my mirror to check my make-up, fix my hair, and see if I missed any cum before I go in to get more cock. I feel him stroke his hand up my stocking and up under the skirt to my right ass cheek. His hand explores my panties, which are, as always, gathered in my wet boy-cunt crack. He starts talking. “Are you from around here?” How cliché, I think. “No, I’m just playing while on business. Are you from here?” “Yes, but I’m all alone tonight.” “So, out to have a little fun huh? Cool.” I know the lot well- his isn’t the first strange anonymous cock I’ve blown here, and it won’t be the last. As I look over the lot for any audience I missed before I know that I am finished with for now and I’m ready to go get more. In his head, he came up with the sequence of the story pretty well until he reached the ending. All Scott could remember was that it was sad, very sad. As a matter of fact, he still recalled crying his eyes out the first time he came to the end of the story…. ***************************** As Scott was driving away from the city, The Little Candle Girl continued to shiver in the sub-zero cold. A sudden gust of wind had blown all of her candles out but one, but it didn’t matter as they gave off precious little heat anyway. She started to cry, realizing that her father would beat her when she got home for not selling enough candles. She closed her eyes and dreamed about a special room in her house, a room full of heat and beautiful toys everywhere that Santa had just delivered. In the corner was a small statue of the Virgin Mary that her mother had given her just before she died. The Little Candle Girl prayed every night that the Virgin Mary would rescue her from the cold. She squeezed.
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