The Adult Story Hub

I was home, my own home, sitting on the sofa and sipping my coffee when Martha came with our baby, a beautiful tiny baby boy. She sat on the armchair next to me, crossed her beautiful legs and positioned the baby on them, facing me. Then she said to the baby to talk to dad, and ask him 'how are you, daddy, how are you? How are you? How. . . .' I thought something was wrong with me.
"How are you?" a female voice asked.
This is not a baby's voice and not my Martha's voice either!
"Hey, you are moving. Wake up!" the same female voice screamed again.
At that point I realized that I was in the dark, my head was exploding, my body was in deep pain, and I was cold and trembling probably for some fever.
"Please, open your eyes young lady." the voice beggeg again.
Oh, I though, probably this is the reason why I am in the dark: my eyes are closed. I tried to open my eyes, but it was so difficult. Finally, with a big effort, I slightly open them to be hit by the daylight! A blond girl in her mid twenties smiled to me.
"Who are you? Where is Martha?" I asked with a very soft voice, full of apprehension.
"Hi, I am Susan. But I don't know about what you are talking about. Who is Martha?"
"Martha is my wife!" I said with a desperate voice.
"Oh, that's interesting. I don't know what has happened to you, but you must have hit your head and gone through a serious shock before I found you on the shore. That's the only way to explain what you are saying. How could a girl like you have a wife? Maybe you mean your husband? But this does not make sense either, since how could a man be named Martha?" She said this with a strange face, partially astonished and amused at the same time.
At that point I started to recall something about a boat, another lady screaming and a fat man tied on this boat. Oh, yes, now I was slowly remembering all what had happened.
"Where are we now?" I asked frantic.
"Well, you are in my house. In case you mean the location, we are in Ocean Beach, Tamila Island. But who are you? Why were you half naked and wounded on the shore in front of my house last night? Did they rape you, or what?"
Now I remembered everything. The boat, Farag, the missile or whatever hit our boat. But I was happy to hear I was in Tamila now.
"Well, I am sorry for this confusion. You are corrent, something must have hit my head and I was very confused until now. My name is Christine. I now recall everything. I was escaping from Namila together with Farag, a girlfriend of mine. The Namila's Coast Guard was following us and, when they realized that they could not make it to catch us because the Tamila Coast Guard was approaching us as well, they hit and sank our boat. Then I do not remember anything else, until you woke me up. By the way, did you happen to see my friend Farag?"
"No, but we may check that later with the police. In the meantime, please take these pills. My doctor was here a few hours ago. He visited you, prescribed a few pills and said you should be okay in a couple of days.It is five in the afternoon and I have to go to work now. Please sleep and rest. In case you need me, please use that phone. Lift the receiver and press One. That's were my work number is memorized. Ask for Susan. Bye now."
"Goodbye and, thanks, Susan."
I spend about five minutes thinking about everything that happened, and then went back to sleep.
It was true. In a couple of days I was up again. I had some scratches and black marks on my skin, but considering what had happened, I was okay. Susan checked with the Police, but there was not trace of a girl named Farag on the Island. This made me feel extremely sorry. Farag had died, and I felt responsible for her death, having been the one to convince her to leave.
Susan is a gorgeous girl, pretty face, long blond hair, and a body to die for.She is working as a waitress in a local pub from six to midnight. Not a lot of money, but a lot of opportunities to make some good money with tips and....
"Well, they actually need an additional bartender. This could probably be a girl. It's up to you dear, and since I like you, I can talk to you straight.These men are pigs. Just show them some boobs or legs and they are on you. If you continue arousing them they give you larger tips and often leave their phone number with the tip. Then, if you think you are open minded and willing to give a few blowjobs or being fucked, you can call them and make some extra money. I usually make ten times more in one month by making a few phone calls than by working at the pub. Think about it and let me know." Susan ended her speech laughing.
She was really a good friend of mine. She never reported the police that she found me, she gave me one room in her place, and as you would expect, ten days later it was my first day pouring gallons and gallons of draft beer to the people sitting by the counter. Susan was true. I noticed that when I was dressed in jeans and t-shirt, tips were about fifteen percent of the value spent, and probably one or two phone numbers in a standard evening. When I was wearing spike heels, miniskirt, fishnet stockings and some opening in front, showing a portion of my boobs, there was no tip lower than twenty percent, and at least sever or eight phone numbers in a standard evening. Later I start calling some of the guys. In my year and half at Ocean Beach I discovered that men argue and negotiate on the price for a blowjob or for fucking you, but the ass is priceless.If they ask me how much to fuck my ass I just ask for a high figure and they usually accept it without further discussion. It must be due to shortage of girls who are willing to give their ass away and, evidently, there is plenty of pussy and lips available around these days. So, within a few weeks I started meeting only guys interested in my ass, at MY price. I needed to raise enough funds to go back home as soon as possible, and giving my ass away a couple of times a week, in one month would give me the same amount of money than giving two blowjobjs or regular fucking each day for one month. So, more money for much less work! After a few months Susan told me that one of the guys she meets every now and then told her that some of the people at the pub nicknamed me "golden ass".That's another awful male attitude: when we come to sex, they need to advertise everything!
Things were going smoothly. I was working from six in the afternoon to midnight at the pub for six days a week. I was dating one or two guys a day for the extras. Sometimes in the middle of the night I would wake up and spend a couple of hours on the shore, looking towards the tiny little lights of Namila Island in the distance, and thinking about poor Farag who was probably down, on the bottom of the ocean somewhere between where I was standing and the lights in the distance....
After one year and five months on Tamila Island, I decided I had raised enough funds to try and go back to my country.Imagine, I left my country as a potential heroe, and now, in order to go back, I would have to do it as an illegal immigrant.I did not want to get in touch with the secret services or the army. It could take me months to explain them who I am, or better, who I was. Eventually, they would surely help me, giving me a new identity, since Chris Johnson was officially dead, and I was not a male any longer, but they would surely use me many other times for their stupid and awful war games. So, I decided I had enough money to pay for an illegal transfer back to my own country and also to survive there for at least six month while deciding what to do and getting organized. One month later Susan was in front of me, crying because I was leaving. We were like two sisters by now.She accompanied me to the docks, where I met with the people in charge of the transfer. I had to kiss her goodbye at the gate, since they would not let her in. We were both crying, and we promised each other to be in touch again. Then I was accompanied inside a warehose. They let me, together with another two ladies and one man into a container. This had a small section at the rear end, which looked like a small padded room, with air conducts. It was equipped with some food, mostly canned food and cookies, and water to last about one month for four persons, although the trip would only last twelve days. But you never know: there could have been a trade union strike, or a delay or accident, or whatever. After having closed us into the small compartment at the very far end of the container, they loaded the rest of it with the goods.