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The girl on the street corner has a bag of Haribos in her hand when he pulls up. He rolls the passenger window down real slow, crank kind, old model. Car sputters every time it starts, Toji knowing just how to coax it so the engine doesn’t flood.
The girl doesn’t seem to mind too much. She’s a petite thing—tiny waist, arms all bone, malnourished. She pulls down the bottom of her dress a little, some kind of thin, stretchy material in a gaudy shade of pink. He catches a flash of pussy, clean-shaved, barely hidden under the sliver of fabric that constitutes her thong.
Easy access that way. More clients means more cash at the end of the night.
He motions with his hand at the bag of gummies. “You like sweets, huh?”
“Ten for a blowjob,” she tells him instead, head already through the open window, halfway to inside his car. Her mouth makes a wet squishing sound as she chews off the heads of bears, and then she flashes a smile like she’s a real charmer. Her teeth are crooked, brownish at the roots. Too much time sucking on a pipe by the look of things. Little bits of chewed-up gelatin stick in the crevices, bright reds and greens.
Toji’s gaze roams her front. He gives himself an eyeful of small tits, dark areolas peeking out the top of her dress. Wearing some kind of push-up bra like maybe that’ll fool someone until they really get their hands on her.
“‘M lookin’ for a little more than that, sugar.” Pats the empty seat beside him, but she’s already cracking open the door and sliding in.
“That’ll cost you,” she says, and she slips a hand between his legs as he shifts the old junker into drive.
~~~
The girl’s flexible. Lets him stretch her legs past her shoulders as he sticks it in her. Told him that for a price he didn’t even have to wrap it. Like she didn’t see his beat-up car or something; like she draws the types of clients willing to shell out for a chance at glossing that pretty, pink warmth.
Whole time she’s staring at him with this empty, spaced-out look in her eyes, smacking lips rimmed in artificial red, candy-sweet.
She’s sticky on the inside. Cock displacing thick syrup. Hard sugar, candying him. Makes him wonder if maybe she’s caught something, and if it’ll rub off. Send him to the doctor, shaft burning. He won’t kiss her on the mouth, not that she minds too much. Or at least she doesn’t act like it, laying there, yipping, sharp hip bones indenting his abdomen.
Bit of a firecracker, her, somewhere under that strung-out veneer. She drags his hands to those mosquito bites on her chest, then mouths off when he rolls them between his fingers, pinching slightly. His mouth puts a bruise under one, shades of plum on her breast-bud. Earns him a high-pitched little mewl. A matched pair on the other side—one he didn’t give her.
Toji’s arms start to give out before his cock does. It’s some miracle he’s still hard, but maybe that’s the girl’s magic at work. What keeps men coming back; her siren song. Legs by his ears, ambrosia dripping onto the sheets, getting a glimpse at dusky asshole, shined in slick.
A grunt’s the only warning he gives her—a touch more dignified than some of his more desperate fucks. No use in pulling out, wasting that good, hot glaze.
And then Toji finishes inside of her, his step-daughter, Tsumiki.
~~~
“I won’t tell Megumi I saw you, if you’re worried about that.” There’s a cigarette stuck between her lips, wafting puffs of smoke into that stale hotel air.
Toji’s chest aches with a dull pain. Not as sharp as it might have been a few years back, edges softened with time.
He turns to Tsumiki all slow. His hand is still lingering on the inside of her thigh, close to that sugar-sweet pussy, a little overworn, still heating his cum. The skin’s not nearly as soft now as when he used to lather those same legs in soap back when she was just a kid, rinse her in the tub, water lukewarm.
“You knew the whole time?”
She’s wearing this look: lips pursed, eyebrows furled, admonishing. It’s something Toji recalls from all those years ago. Tsumiki’s hands on her hips, telling off his kid for spilling juice on the carpet. For leaving his Hot Wheels for her to step on, tiny metal pieces roughing up her feet.
If he’d stayed around long enough to watch them grow from kids to teens and then to whatever they are now, maybe he’d be more concerned about Megumi finding out his sister saw him. But it’s been an awful long time since he knew either of them, and this is a pretty sorry substitute for catching up, anyway.
“I’m not worried,” he tacks on. Tsumiki eyeballs him dully for another moment, still huffing on that cigarette. Her leg twitches under Toji’s fingers, some involuntary spasm, and their time’s probably up at the motel anyway.
No point in paying for more time than they’d use.