This is an Earth Day contest story. Please vote.

Homeless and destitute, prostituting herself for money to survive, a woman collects bottles and cans, while making friends.

*

"Hi," said the man to Susan passing by her in the alleyway, while staring.

Accustomed to men staring at her, such an unusual sight to behold, men don't normally see a woman who looks like her, especially in an alleyway as dirty as this, collecting bottles and cans.

"Hi," said Susan turning her attention away from what she was doing to size him up with a streetwise look to see if he was a threat or a danger to her. Immediately accessing him as harmless, she went about her business of picking through the trash for bottles and cans.

"What's a good looking woman like you," he said stopping dead in his tracks to stare at her, "doing here in this dirty, rat infested alley digging through the trash?"

She turned again to look at him. Typical of him to not make eye contact with her, as if his eyes were lasers burning two holes in her shirt, instead he stared at the impressions her nipples made in her bra through her blouse. Feeling the heat of his stare, she folded her arms across her breasts to preserve the last bit of her modesty, something else already stolen from her, when first homeless. Knowing men in the way she does, no doubt, he thought that her high beams made an appearance just from the sight of him, but he'd be wrong. She was just cold.

"A new line to go with the times," she said with a chuckle, "what's a good looking woman doing in a dirty, rat infested alley digging through the trash? I'm collecting bottles, cans, and making friends. I've already collected some bottles and cans," she said holding up her plastic bag full of bottles and cans, "and now, just having met you, I made a friend. Actually, I'm just doing my fair share to clean up the neighborhood," she said with a sad laugh, unable to continue the pretense.

"Are you an environmentalist? Are you one of those people helping everyone to conserve in the hopes of saving the planet and donating whatever you collect to your cause? Global warming and all of that," he said with a wave of his hand, as if he needed his hand to punctuate his stupidity, "is that it?"

Obviously thinking that her feeble attempts to help save the planet were fruitless, he looked at her and laughed. No doubt, wanting to believe that she was someone that she wasn't, wanting to believe that she was more than his perception of her and she was, of course, perhaps he had trouble with the idea that a beautiful woman could be homeless, but she was.

"An environmentalist? Hardly," she said with a laugh, "I'm unemployed. I'm homeless. I'm tired. I'm cranky and I'm hungry," she said with sadness and with a bit of anger to her voice. "Having already swallowed my pride, no longer too proud to beg, I do whatever I can for a few dollars, even if it's digging through yucky trash for a few coins collected from discarded bottle and can deposits."

In the way that he looked at her, as if she was a decadent dessert, it wasn't her desperation or the fact that she was unemployed, homeless, tired, or hungry that stopped him in his tracks, no doubt, but her admitted need for a few dollars, along with the fact that she was stunningly beautiful.

"Always one to help the homeless, I'll gladly give you a few dollars," he said with a smile and a sly, unabashed pause, "for a feel of your tits."

When she turned to look at him, he walked over to her, while looking up the alley, before looking down the alley.

"Pardon?"

"You help me with a handful and I'll help you with a handout, so to speak," he said in his attempt to make light of her desperate situation, while trying to take advantage of her. He covered his insensitivity to her sad struggle with a shrug and a nervous laugh.

"I see," she said resting her bag of bottles and cans in the street. "For a feel of my tits, you'll give me money? Is that it?" Obviously, something that hadn't occurred to her before, that she had something to sell that someone would buy, she looked down to where he was staring at her tits.

"Yeah, sure, you have great rack. Definitely, I'll give you some money for a feel of your big boobs."

"How much?" She looked at him, as if he was a potential buyer at a yard sale.

"Two bucks."

"Two bucks to touch these?" She moved her folded arms from her breasts and stuck out her tits more. "Trust me, the feel of these breasts are worth much more than two dollars, Mister," she said cupping her breasts in her palms and lifting them through her blouse and bra, before looking at him with the flair of a Supermodel with a bad attitude.

"It's just a feel," he said taking another step closer.

"You a cop?" Susan surveyed the alley again to see if anyone was coming.

"Me a cop? No, I'm not a cop. I only wish I had a more exciting job," he said with a laugh. "I'm an accountant for an insurance company. Boring, but at least I have a job in this tough economy. So, what do you say? I'll give you two bucks for a feel of your tits."

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Immediately doing the math in her head, two bucks was equal to collecting 40 cans and bottles, a huge amount to collect for such a small amount of money. "But two bucks will only buy you a ten second feel of one of my tits."

A victim of circumstances in dire need of money, having dropped so low so fast, she was now relegated to being groped in a back alley for money by a stranger. A dangerous game to play, especially if coming across the wrong man, someone who wanted more for less, for two dollars, she took the chance. If she wasn't so hungry, she'd be saddened, embarrassed even, that a feel of her one of breasts was only worth two bucks, but just as her destitution hardened her exterior, her desperation softened her modesty.

"Agreed," said the man looming closer.

Immediately, he reached out his hand to feel her breast and Susan took a step back.

"The money first, Mister."

"Oh, okay. Sorry," he said pulling two wrinkled dollar bills from his pant pocket and handing them to her.

After she took possession of the money, he took possession of her breast with a touch, a grope, and a feel. Acting as if he was feeling a tit for the first time in his life, acting as if he was feeling his mother's or his sister's breast, he cupped her bra clad, C cup boob in his hand with exuberant excitement. He felt the weight of her breast though her blouse, before caressing it through her bra and running a stubby finger across her emerging nipple.

"Okay, that's enough, Mister. That's all you get for two bucks," she said recoiling from his touch, while stuffing the money in her jeans.

Obvious by his leering stare, excited enough to part with more money for more feels, he took a harder and longer look at her.

"If you willingly allowed me to feel your tit for two dollars, what would I get for five dollars?" He retrieved a five dollar bill from his pant pocket and held it in the air, as if he was holding a hundred dollar bill. "Would you show me your tits for five dollars?"

"No, not for five dollars but, instead of a down blouse view, I'll give you an open blouse view. I'll unbutton my blouse and show you my cleavage and my bra for five dollars," she said waiting for him to respond, before unbuttoning her blouse. "How's that for five bucks?"

"Okay, but for five dollars I have to feel your tits through your bra, both of them, this time, not just one," he said leering at her.

"Okay but give me the money, first, Mister," she said holding out her hand, as if she was a fruit vendor in the market selling melons instead of selling the feel of her breasts.

He handed her five dollars and she stuffed the bill in her pocket, before unbuttoning her blouse. Already having pocketed seven dollars, she quickly did the math in her head. Equating bottles and cans with dollars and cents, instead of how much she made per hour, when working at a job, she'd have to collect 140 bottles and cans to earn seven dollars. Between collecting the bottles and cans and returning them for their deposits, it would take her several, long hours to make the money that she just made in a few minutes of him fondling her tits through her bra. What would have disgusted her enough before to deny him a feel of her breasts, when she was gainfully employed, suddenly appealed to her now.

Giving him his money's worth with a unhurried striptease show, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, while hoping he'd want more. After living in a shelter and sleeping in a room with dozens of others, with her modesty diminishing as her desperation increased, she'd show him whatever he was willing to pay to see. Maybe for ten bucks, she'd unhook her bra and show him her naked breasts. As morally ruined as she was financially bankrupt, what difference did it make to show some guy her breasts, whether in a shelter or in a back alley, especially if he was willing to pay for the privilege? She's done worse with a stranger picking her up in a bar, making out with him, and having him feel her up in his car, when she had a job and was out on the town with her girlfriends, after having a good time at a CFNM revue show.

As if he was staring at the hands of a magician hoping to discover the secret to a magic trick, he watched her unbutton one slow button of her blouse at a time. She stopped unbuttoning her blouse, as soon as her cleavage and bra were exposed. Then, as if she was Superman stepping in a phone booth to change, as if she was parting a stage curtain at a striptease show, she flayed open her blouse with both hands to reveal what he was so willing to pay to see and to touch.

"Gees, you have great tits, lady," he said wiping a hand across his mouth, as if he was a man dying of thirst, instead of a man hungry for sex. "What's your name?"

"No names, Mister. Now that you've seen my tits, go ahead and touch and feel them."

"Actually, I really haven't seen your tits," he said feeling her big boobs through her bra. "I've only seen your bra, your cleavage, and the impressions that your nipples make in the material," he said pulling one of her nipples out through her bra with his thumb and index finger.

"Ow," she said recoiling and taking a step back from his rough touch. "Hey, take it easy, Mister. Those nipples are attached to my breasts."

"Sorry," he said looking at her with a lustful stare. "How much more money for you to lift up your bra and show me your tits?" He took a step forward to trace her long line of deep cleavage with his finger, before dipping his fingertip inside her bra, no doubt, trying to finger her nipple, but Susan stepped back again.

"Ten bucks for me to show you my tits, Mister," said Susan immediately responding.

"Ten bucks? Okay, but I get to touch feel, fondle, and suck not just one but both of them."

"Uh, uh. Ten bucks just to see them. It's another ten bucks for you to touch them, feel them, fondle them, and suck them."

"Okay, so lemme get this straight. For twenty bucks, you'll not only show me your tits but also I can play with and suck your tits."

"Yeah, for twenty bucks you can enjoy my tits, but for only five minutes."

"Five minutes? Twenty bucks for ten minutes. That's two bucks a minute."

"Uh, uh. Ten bucks just to see them and another ten bucks to play with them and to suck them for five minutes. Take it or leave it, Mister," she said looking at the man's watch hoping that he'd agree to the deal.

Already having spent the money in her head, she thought of all the food she could buy with twenty-seven dollars. An impossible feat, she'd have to find, collect, and return for deposit, five hundred and forty bottles and cans to earn twenty-seven dollars. If he said no, she'd relent and renegotiate her deal to offer him the ten minutes that he initially wanted for twenty bucks. Only, hoping not to be caught by a passing patrol car, she didn't want to delay this public, topless spectacle by exposing her breasts in the back alley for longer than necessary.

"Okay," he said reaching his hand out to lift her bra, "but call me Drew."

"Money first, Drew," she said taking a step back.

The man reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a twenty. Susan took the money and held it up to the light.

"It's real," he said with a laugh.

"You never know, Drew," she said. "I've learned not to trust anyone, especially when it comes to money."

"Well?" He stared at her bra, as if she was a stripper on stage about to get naked.

Susan looked both ways up and down the alley and up at the apartment windows that looked down on the alley, before stepping back and ducking between two dumpsters. Making eye contact with him first, with great aplomb, she ever so slowly unhooked her bra, a front snapper, and separated her bra cups, as if she was Moses parting the Red Sea. She watched his eyes widen, when he saw the miraculous display of her big boobs, in the way that she imagined he would, if her breasts were a big screen HDTV installed on Super Bowl Sunday.

"Wow! Amazing, just amazing. Those are the best tits I've ever seen," he said stepping forward and reaching his horny hands out to touch, feel, fondle, and caress her breasts, while fingering, pulling, and twisting her nipples, before leaning down to suck her tits. "You have fabulous breasts, better tits than any Playboy bunny. Are they real?"

"Yeah, of course, they're real, Drew," she said laughing. "How many homeless women do you know walking around with breast implants?"

Susan watched the seconds tick by on his watch, while thinking of all the food she could buy with $27.00. Then, as the second hand marked the five minute time, as if she was Cinderella fleeing the Prince's ball, she pulled away from him and hooked up her bra.

"That's it, Drew. Times up."

He gave her a sad look that the fun bag playground was closed.

"Wait, hold on," he said reaching down to finger his cock through his pants. "How much for a hand job?"

"A hand job? No way. Uh, uh. Sorry, Drew, I don't do that. I'm not a whore. I'm just hungry."

"Just hungry and not horny?" He looked at her with a face full of perverse lust. "Are you hungry enough to stroke my cock?"

"No, sorry."

"I'll give you another twenty bucks, if you stroke me, until I cum."

A time when she once wasted twenty dollars to have her nails done, twenty dollars was a lot of money to her now. She looked down at her broken nails and dirty fingers, twenty dollars was 400 cans and bottles. With another twenty dollars, she'd have forty-seven dollars, more money than she's had in a long time. Between the meals she eats at the mission, the food she gets from the food pantry, twenty-seven dollars was enough money to buy groceries and the other necessities of life for a month, so long as she was careful, only bought store specials, and clipped coupons.

"You're not a cop, are you?" She looked one way down the alley and then the other, before looking at the bulbous bulge that his erection made in his pants.

"If I were a cop, would I do this?" Stepping closer to her and now concealed by the dumpster, too, he unzipped his pants, reached his hand inside, and pulled out his stiff dick. "A cop would never show you his prick. That's entrapment," he said watching her stare as his exposed cock, while stroking himself to a bigger and harder erection. "With the money that I've already given you, plus another twenty for a hand job, you could buy more drugs."

"I don't do drugs. I don't even drink. I'm only doing whatever I can do to survive, until I can find a job," she said still staring at his exposed prick.

It had been a long while since she had seen a man's cock, never mind stroked a man's cock. The sight of his exposed prick didn't make her horny; it made her sad.

"Well, with the twenty-seven dollars that I've already given you and with another twenty dollars for a hand job, you could fill your cart with food, instead of with empty bottles and cans."

"Okay, but just a hand job. I'm not going to suck you, Drew," she said reaching out her hand for the money.

"Yeah, yeah, just a hand job, but I need to play with your tits, while you stroke me," he said reaching out to unhook her bra.

"Uh, uh, that's another ten bucks, Drew, thirty more dollars, altogether to play with my breasts, while I masturbate you."

"Okay, okay, but even if there's someone coming, unless that someone is a cop, you can't stop stroking me, until I cum," he said reaching in his wallet to pull out the last of the money that he had and handed it to her. "I'm glad I already had my lunch, 'cause I'm broke, now," he mumbled, while holding out his empty wallet and looking at her, as if he had just realized how she must feel being unemployed, homeless, and penniless.

"Agreed," she said stuffing the thirty dollars in her jeans, before reaching out for his cock. "I won't stop stroking you, until you cum," she said, while thinking of herself as a customer service representative and giving her customer a new, albeit sexually sated, sense of customer satisfaction.

Having been a while, since she had a cock in her hand, she missed the feel of controlling a man's excitement with her fingers and hand. Having made so little money collecting bottles and cans, she thought that she may be onto something with this new entrepreneurial touchy feely for money business. A line that she refused to cross, so long as she didn't have to get down on her knees to suck someone's cock in a dirty alleyway and so long as someone didn't rape her, beat the crap out of her, and steal her money, she wouldn't mind trading a few feels of her hot body and giving an occasional hand job to the right man for some much needed cash. With him playing with her tits and fingering her nipples, becoming more actively excited giving him a hand job, she wrapped her dirty fingers around his cock tighter, while stroking him faster. Yet, just wanting to get his hand job over with, she just wanted to get him to cum, so that she could leave, buy some much needed food, and go home to shower away her disgust for what she was relegated to do now for money.

Home? Where was her home? She didn't have a home. Her home was the shelter, that is, when they weren't full and, lately, they've always been full. Between the four legged and two legged rats that prowled the city, unable to sleep on the street, she had to get in line early to make sure she had a bed. If she didn't have the inner strength to survive, she would have given up long ago. Reaching a new low point, giving a hand job to a man she just met for twenty dollars, was something she tried not to think about. Doing what she must do to eat, she wouldn't die of embarrassment from jerking off some guy, but she'd die without food and, having no medical insurance, she couldn't afford to get sick by sleeping out on the street.

Getting his money's worth, Drew was all over her big tits touching them, feeling them, fondling them, caressing them, and fingering her nipples. Then, as soon as he leaned down to suck her nipples, again, and as soon as she reached in his pants to cup his balls, while stroking him faster, she could feel him getting ready to cum. Quickly stepping to the side, while stroking him faster, firmer, and longer, she watched him splash his lust for her all over the brick wall behind her. Just as he finished cumming, she watched someone enter the alley.

"Shit, there's someone coming," he said.

"Hurry," she said putting her tits away.

"Oh, my God, I'm still cumming. That was the best hand job I ever had," he said putting his cock away and zipping up his pants, while Susan was already pushing her cart down the alley and away from him.

* * * * *

Earth Day means different things to different people. Another day of being homeless and exposed to the inner city streets, Susan felt much like the bottles and cans she picked from the trash, discarded and empty. Tired and hungry, while scrounging along gutters and through trash dumpsters for bottles and cans for their deposits, Earth Day to Susan was no different than any other day. Doing more than her share in helping to save the environment and clean up her neighborhood were two positives that never occurred to her. She just needed the money.
Just trying to survive, just trying to collect enough deposit money to live on, after being unable to get a job, recycling bottles and cans was her only desperate way left to feed and clothe herself. To make things more manageable, she enlisted a shopping cart from the local grocery store to collect her bottles and cans. Never thinking that she'd be relegated to pushing a shopping cart full of bottles and cans through the streets, always having had a good paying job, with unemployment and homelessness her new reality, her ticket to surviving was to think out of the box. Speaking of a box, glad that she had the roof of the shelter over her head, she was glad that she wasn't living in an appliance box, as some of the other homeless people she knew. The hardcore homeless, preferring to take their chances on the street, refused to take refuge in the shelter for reasons of personal safety.

No longer able to afford her rent, having exhausted her unemployment and savings, she moved from Boston to central Pennsylvania in June to live with and help her elderly mother, after losing her job. Then, when the Susquehanna River flooded its banks and crested 30' above flood stage level in September, she lost everything. The worst downpour in Pennsylvania's history, the water overwhelmed their small basement apartment. With the flood waters reaching the second floor of the building where she lived, and contaminated with home heating oil, she was unable to salvage anything, not even her car.

Her life a waterlog mess, with everything ruined, food, clothes, furniture, photographs, small appliances, and electronics, fortunately, chauffeuring her mother around in her mother's car at the time for her doctor's appointment, luckily she had her laptop with her to write her stories, while waiting for her mother, otherwise she would have lost that, too. Still, she considered herself lucky, as three people lost their lives in the flood, one a firefighter trying to save an elderly man upside down in his car. Both were swept away. She felt for the residents of her neighborhood that had small children. Many had no other place to go than to the shelter. Trying to take care of and entertain small children, who don't understand why they can't go home, is no picnic, when living in a shelter and being so dependent upon someone else's generosity.

Trying to maintain a positive attitude, at least she had a roof over her head, even if it was only a temporary shelter. From the fall to the early winter, she spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's at the women's shelter in downtown Harrisburg, the worst part of the city. Between the yelling and the fighting of her homeless neighbors, and the crime, the drugs, and the violence, feeling as if she was a resident in an insane asylum, there wasn't much celebrating going on there, just poverty. misery, and rage.

Not even safe at the mission, while waiting in line to be served her holiday food, her blonde hair was a beacon shining her beauty from behind and her shapely body a flag waving her desirability. With no man there to protect her, the two men of many standing behind her in line took their turns copping cheap feels of her round, tight ass and her firm C cup breasts. Preoccupied in thought with where else to apply for work, she didn't feel the men touching her at first. No doubt, they must have thought that they had a live one ready to have sex with them. Then, when one of them tried lifting up her short skirt, one of the few clothing items she had left, actually raising it high enough in back to expose her bikini clad ass, she couldn't imagine what they'd do, if she wasn't in a public place and they had her alone.

"Hey, fuck off, asshole," she yelled her indignation, while fluffing down her short skirt and moving up in line to step away from them.

With her mother looking every bit as beautiful as Dina Merrill of old and looking more like 60-years-old than 75-years-old, even her mother's ass and breasts weren't safe from the horny hands of those lechers that frequented the mission and waited in line behind them for a hot meal. Bump and grope, hump and feel, and touch and fondle, one would blame the other for touching, feeling, and groping parts of her shapely body that would get them arrested, if they were on the city street and not in a crowded mission. After deep budget cuts, the security in shelters and missions was as limited as their services were to help the homeless. With no one there to protect her from being sexually assaulted, she was everyone's everyday target. Then, when the two men followed them and sat at their table to continue their sexual abuse, albeit verbally this time, she and her mother moved to a safer table to dine with a single mother and her three, small children.

Not much of a life, after having lost everything, to have to live with her mother in a shelter and eat her meals at the mission, nonetheless, she was thankful for the bed and grateful for the food. Knocking on doors every day looking for work, while hoping that today was the day she'd get a job and this company was the employer who'd hire her, she heard the same thing over and again.

"Sorry, there are no openings."

"Sorry, you can fill out an application, but I already have a hundred people applying for this one job."

"Sorry, but you're overqualified. We'd never hire you for such a lowly position. As soon as the economy improved, you'd leave us for a higher paying job that had benefits."

"Sorry, but with so many others that are more qualified and willing to take less money than you, I can't offer you this job."

With most of the full-time jobs now made part-time, employers wanted those new hires to do two jobs made into one, while paying less than what one of those jobs used to pay. An employers' market, with most jobs offering no benefits, not even partial health insurance, and few of those jobs being very appealing, employers took advantage of a desperate workforce in a bad economy. Nonetheless, willing to work at anything for any wage, unfortunately, there were too many other desperate people with the same mindset.

Had she not been the center of unwanted attention by men, since the time she first developed breasts, Susan may have recoiled at the thought of what she allowed men to do to her for much needed money. Always uncomfortable with men staring and leering at her, embarrassed by the lewdly dirty things they'd say to her, she spent a lifetime fighting off men from groping her and trying to have their wicked way with her. Yet, she did whatever she had to do to survive and hated herself later for having to stoop so low to live. Sometimes, while looking through trash for bottles and cans, she'd occasionally allow some men she came upon in a back alley to cop a cheap feel of her for a few dollars.

Never volunteering herself for fear of being arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior or worse for prostitution, leery of those who approached her, she'd give a select few men a quick feel her breasts, ass, and pussy through her clothes for money. Lucky that one of them didn't drag her in a doorway and rape her, beat her, rob her, and even murder her, even though they all wanted more than just a quick feel, they all took no for an answer. Even though she was destitute and desperate for money, having more self-respect than that, she wasn't about to get down on her knees in a dirty, rat infested alley and blow some bum, especially one who hadn't showered in a while. Besides, bad enough being felt up by strange men and businessmen cutting through the alleyway, while on their lunch hour, other than a cheap feel here and there, other than a hand job, performing lewd sex acts on them was crossing the line.

With a network of homeless men and back alley dwellers, after the word spread that she'd willingly sell the feel of her body for money, she had a small side business of horny, homeless men and white and blue collar workers, who willingly parted with a few dollars for a quick feel of her big breasts, round ass, and blonde pussy, even if only through her clothes. Once they saw how pretty and shapely she was and knew she'd allow them to touch her, grope her, and feel her, all of them wanted more. Willing to be a bit more daring and relenting to do a bit more, depending upon her mood, she'd flash someone her breast for five dollars, give someone a feel of her bare breast or bare ass for ten dollars and, depending on the man, even give an occasional hand job for twenty bucks, so long as he was clean, but that's as far as she'd go.

Funny how she could justify what she did, when she did it for the sake of money to buy food. Yet, doing any more than allowing someone to feel her, while she felt their erections through their pants and stroked their cocks outside of their pants, made her feel too much like a cheap prostitute. Selling her decency and modesty for money, even though she drew the line at sucking and fucking, she tried not to think of herself as a hooker but, by definition and in all respects, giving sexual favors in exchange for money, she was. Able to justify what she did because she was poor, hungry, and desperate, whatever money she earned from allowing men to touch, feel, and grope her, she bought food and those necessities of life that she needed and not drugs and alcohol, as did so many others in her dire situation.

Between the police harassing her and her being the target of every crazy, long-term homeless man, who felt she invaded their private, personal territory by stealing their discarded bottles and cans, the city streets quickly became too dangers for a woman, especially a woman who looked like her. Tired of competing for every bottle and can with every drunk and drugged out bum sleeping on the street corner, men who soon wanted more than just a quick feel of her tits and ass and/or a hand job, she decided to move to a better neighborhood. Leaving the shelter, the only home she now had, and abandoning the mission, where she ate her merger meals, she packed up what few possessions she had left and took a bus with her mother across the river to Hershey, the more affluent side of Central Pennsylvania.

* * * * *

Having to leave her beloved shopping cart behind, hopefully, she'd find a job and wouldn't need a shopping cart. If she was unable to find a job in Hershey, she'd find another shopping cart and collect bottles and cans there, too. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to resort to that. Yet, with Hershey Park being the biggest tourist destination in the state, between the amusement park, the concerts they held, the sporting events, and the famed Hershey car show, she could only imagine how many return for deposit items there'd be for her to collect. Hershey Park was a bottle and can collectors paradise. Unfortunately, she quickly learned that the employees of the park policed the area of all bottles and cans and frowned upon anyone invading their private paradise with a shopping cart loaded with bottles and cans. Besides, designed more for cars than pedestrians, the parking area was so immense that it was difficult for her to walk end to end, especially when pushing a shopping cart.

First things first, she and her mother needed a place to live. She sought temporary shelter at the local church, where she befriended the reverend. With Susan being so easy on the eyes and possessing such a pleasant and amenable personality, it wasn't difficult for her to make new friends. In the way that she looked, everyone wanted to be her friend, that is except for the wives of those husbands, who gave her long, leering, lustful looks.

Lots of people wanted to help her, especially men, unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. In exchange for money, men were willing to give her a place to sleep for the night, so long as she slept with them naked and in the same bed. Wanting none of that, she wanted a job, but there were none, not in this bad economy. Instead, the kind reverend gave her a place to sleep and paid her some pocket money to help with the daily duties of the shelter and the food bank. With her mother making new friends, too, a church woman offered Susan and her mother a spare bedroom she had in her house.

"I heard from the good reverend about you being homeless, after losing everything in the flood, and I'd be grateful if you and your lovely daughter would stay with me, until you get back on your feet. I have a spare bedroom. I've been so lonely after my Henry died," she said with sad eyes, as if the mere mention of her beloved husband's name brought back memories.

Now living in a small bedroom in the house of her mother's new friend, after having to suffer through living at the shelter and eating meals at the mission, even though they had to share a bed, Susan and her Mom were safe from harm and grateful for the smallest of comforts in life. Yet, still without a job, but for the few dollars she earned helping with the shelter and their food bank, and struggling to live on her mother's meager Social Security check, Susan returned to picking up bottles and cans, this time, in exclusive Hershey, instead of downtown Harrisburg. Only, knowing that the local police would never allow her to continue with what she did in Harrisburg, especially in allowing men to feel her up for money in a back alley, she devised a new plan, one that accommodated her need for money and one that went along with what was acceptable to her new, affluent neighborhood.

Barely making enough money collecting bottles and cans to survive, there must be a better way, she thought, but what? How can she make more money just by collecting bottles and cans? Maybe, she thought, making new friends was the key to her success. Maybe she thought, instead of looking like a homeless woman, she'd have more success looking like the person she used to be and still is inside. She commandeered an errant shopping cart from the local supermarket and marketed herself by attaching a sign to each side of her shopping cart.

"PLEASE HELP THE HOMELESS."

A desperate measure during desperate times for her to so advertise, especially in prohibitively and restrictive Hershey, not too proud or too embarrassed to beg, she just didn't want to be arrested for panhandling. In truth and by definition, she and her mother were, indeed, homeless, and she wasn't lying about any donations received going to help the homeless, albeit namely them. Even though they had temporary shelter in an elderly church woman's home, they were still at the mercy and generosity of their new benefactress. Not that she would, but she could rescind her offer to shelter them and ask them to leave at any time.

Only, keenly aware of her affluent neighborhood, not wanting to look like a homeless beggar, she needed to more play the innocent, albeit beautiful, buxom, blonde part. Hoping for more, especially with her pushing the shopping cart, in the way that it would look if Ashley Tisdale or Jessica Simpson was pushing the carriage, but with everyone falling on hard times, her shopping cart advertisement only worked well enough for her to earn her just a few more dollars than what she made digging through trash dumpsters in downtown Harrisburg alleyways. Trying another tactic and dressing as if she lived in the this new, ritzy neighborhood. Instead of going out in jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers to dig through trash and pick up bottles and cans from the gutter, she had her hair and nails done, bought a few sexy, albeit respectful outfits with what meager money she had saved, and hit the streets again.

Only, this time, wearing a short skirt to show off her shapely legs and a low cut blouse to highlight her long line of cleavage and enhance her big tits, this was her new uniform of choice. With her sexy appearance her way for the admiring men to notice her, she attracted those men who wanted to help the homeless, expressly hoping to help get her in their bed. Looking much like a stripper who found religion, her long blonde hair, pretty face, and shapely figure attracted a lot of attention, both male and female. Looking nothing like the homeless woman that she was, even the policemen that passed her by gave her a smile, a wave, and sometimes even a donation of few dollars to her worthy cause. If only they knew that her cause was more exclusively personally and that she was the one homeless, they'd frown on her publically panhandling on their clean city streets.

Staying off Chocolate, Cocoa, and Park Avenues, the main thoroughfares through Hershey, and pushing her cart up the side streets across from Mansion Road, where Milton Hershey used to live, she traveled the pristine streets, where all the big shot executives, who work for Hershey's assorted and varied businesses live. Once she became a familiar face, looking as if she belonged, she was accepted, when the residents emerged from their lavish homes to greet her and to give her green trash bags filled with bottles and cans. It was so much easier to collect bottles and cans, when the green trash bags that residents handed her were full of them. Instead of having to dig through dumpsters and gutters, by just advertising with a sign on her carriage and promoting herself by altering her appearance, she was now making so much more money in Hershey than she ever did in Harrisburg.

* * * * *

"Hi Susan," said Greg, an interior decorator, who owned a business on Chocolate Avenue in Hershey, appropriately named, Chocolate Is Not the Only Color. "I have some bottles and cans for you today," he said handing her a bag of recyclables, along with a check made out to her for $100.00, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's so commendable of you to help the homeless. Truth be told, by giving you my recyclables, you make me feel as if I'm directly helping them, too. I'll see you next week, Honey."

"Thank you, Greg. Bye," said Susan waving him a smile.

"Yoo-hoo, Susan," said Mario, another neighbor from across the street, "I have some bottles and cans for the homeless," he said holding up a bag of recyclables.

Mario owned a woman's shoe store on Chocolate Avenue in Hershey, called Foot Confections, Sweet Feet. Knowing that he had a foot fetish and, once she gave him her shoe size, he'd emerge from his house each week with a pair of new shoes to give her, that is, so long as he could personally fit the shoes to her feet, no doubt, while ogling her panties beneath her short skirt. Certainly, for a free pair of new and stylish shoes, Susan didn't mind Mario stealing a peek of her panties in an up skirt. Being the exhibitionist that she is, she's routinely flashed her panties to shoe store salesman before. A game she loves playing, she's already shown unsuspecting men so much more than just her panties in an up skirt. Lifting her skirt and spreading her legs more, while looking down at the shoes that Mario fitted to her feet, she knew that from the angle where he squatted, that she was giving him all that he hoped to see.

So much better than collecting bottles and cans in the alleyways in downtown Harrisburg, with her pretense of helping the homeless so very commendable and innocent, making new friends in Hershey was easy. With the bottle and can deposits going to a worthy cause to support her and her homeless mother, Susan didn't think she was doing anything wrong or illegal and truth be told, she wasn't, theoretically, ethically, perhaps. Only, just in the way that she did in the back alleyways of downtown Harrisburg, it was then that she realized that she could make so much more money by befriending some of the lonely, horny, and wealthy men in her newly adopted Hershey neighborhood. So long as she was discreet, so long as they were giving her what she needed, money, and she was giving them what they wanted, sex, who would know?

By playing the part of the not so innocent and not so reluctant sexy vixen, Susan soon discovered that she no longer needed a job to earn a living. Except for continuing the pretense of pushing her cart, by merely using her face and figure, she no longer needed to collect bottles and cans. By just maintaining the charade of helping the homeless by collecting a token amount of bottles and cans, the signage displayed on her shopping cart was enough to admit her entrance to exclusive homes, that is, whenever the woman of the house wasn't around.
"Hi, Susan," said Walter, a retired, albeit, wealthy widower, while waving to her from across the street. "I have something for you," he said with a big smile, while standing in his open garage wearing just a bathrobe and slippers.

"Hi, Walter. I'll be right over," said Susan with a smile and a wave. "I bet you have something for me, Walter, you perverted, old man," said Susan mumbling under her breath, "and, no doubt, it's hidden beneath your bathrobe. Whoever invented those little, blue Viagra pills should be shot," she said to herself with a laugh. "Now, all of these old men think they are studs," she said still mumbling.

Susan crossed the street to his opened garage. A space that faced away from the street and was shaded by a stand of trees, the somewhat hidden location of his garage gave them privacy from the eyes of prying neighbors, especially when standing further inside. A big step up, definitely, servicing Walter in his garage in Hershey was so much better servicing a stranger in a dirty alleyway in Harrisburg.

"I have all these bottles and cans for you to take, Susan, so long as you don't mind digging them out of my recycling bin," said Walter with a big smile, while squatting down with her just enough for his bathrobe to accidentally on purpose split open at the knees and part more, when one side of the thin material fell from his thigh. "I have a bad back," he said feigning back pain with a grimace and turning to exposed himself to her more, "otherwise I'd help you."

He was showing so much more than just his smile now. In one prolonged flash, his semi-erect cock, testicles, and pubic hair were completely exposed to her, that is, if she was looking and, to satisfy his perversion of exposing himself to her and to feed his lust for her, while he feed her need for a donation, she was looking. Giving him what he so wanted, with him being an exhibitionist in need of a voyeur, Susan stared at his cock a little longer than she would have ordinarily. A game she enjoyed playing with this harmless, old man and one they played weekly, with each week getting more provocatively daring and sexually more revealing, Susan squatted down with him. With her knees parted plenty wide enough and with her short skirt hiked up nearly to her crotch, she flashed him her bright white panty and low cut bra. Now it was Walter's turn to stare at all that she was showing and, giving him an eyeful, she was showing him plenty.

"Thank you so very much, Walter," said Susan hiking up her short skirt each time she squatted down to retrieve one bottle and one can at a time, while flashing him more of her panties, bra, and cleavage each time. "You're too kind, Walter, to donate all of these recyclables to help the homeless. I appreciate your generosity and kindness."

While Susan still squatted, Walter stood and reached his hands in his pocket and, on the pretense of giving her some money to help the homeless, usually a twenty dollar bill, when he easily could have afforded to give her a hundred, his real intent was to flash her his cock again by purposefully opening his bathrobe, as he reached in his pocket for the twenty. Then, when Susan squatted again, with his hands still in his pockets, he'd accidentally on purpose push against the inside of his pockets to pull open his bathrobe just enough to flash her his cock to her again. This time, with his flash of his cock at eye level, at first pretending not to notice, she was still squatting down rummaging through his recycling bin. Playing her part as the innocent, albeit exhibitionist woman, by pretending to unknowingly flash him her panty, while still squatting down with her knees widely parted and her short skirt nearly up to her crotch, she'd look up at his exposed and now nearly erect prick, while acting as if she didn't notice the elephant in the garage.

"I'm so very excited that I can give you a little something extra each week for the homeless, Susan. It's such a good cause," he said leering at all that she was showing him while, no doubt, hoping that she was looking at all that he was flashing her.

"Thank you, Walter. I can see your excitement," she said feigning a blush, while suppressing a laugh. "Oh, my, Walter," she said staring at his cock.

"What? What's wrong, Susan? You're blushing," said Walter looking down at himself to see where Susan was looking and, no doubt, look to see what she was seeing.

"I don't know if you realize, Walter, but your penis is exposed," she said with an unembarrassed little laugh, before putting a hand to her mouth in a feigned look of shock. "I'm so very embarrassed," she said holding her hand to her mouth without averting her stare. "I'm sorry for staring but I've never seen a cock as big as your cock, Walter," she said, while thinking that she's never seen one as small.

"Oh, sorry, Susan," said Walter looking down at his little, erect prick, before looking up at Susan. "That seems to accidentally happen every time we're together. Perhaps, because you excite me so much," he said with a thoughtful pause, "I have a hard time, if you know what I mean, hiding my excitement."

"Actually, Walter, I do know what you mean. Other than collecting bottles, cans, and making friends, I could use a little excitement in my life myself," said Susan with a laugh.

Walter remained silent, while staring between Susan's legs at her exposed panty. By the pulsating movement of his still exposed cock, he appeared to be getting even more sexually excited. While looking down her blouse at her cleavage, down her bra at the roundness of the tops of her exposed breasts, and up her skirt at her white panty, his cock showed his appreciation of the down blouse and up skirt view that he had of Susan.

"Panty and tit for cock," he said with a perverted little laugh.

"Panty and tit for cock? Pardon? Sorry, Walter, but I don't know what you mean," she said knowing full well what he meant.

"Since, you're giving me a nice up skirt view of your bright white panties and a beautiful down blouse view of your cleavage and bra, I thought I'd return the favor by accidentally on purpose exposing my cock to you," he said showing more excitement in his quivering voice, while beaming a broad smile.

"Oh, Walter, you rascal. I'm so very embarrassed. Can you really see my panties from your angle? I had no idea. I was too focused on retrieving the bottles and cans from your recycling bin," said Susan leaning and looking down to peer up her skirt to see what Walter could see. Then, she put a finger to the top of her blouse to open it enough to see what he could see. "You must think me a hussy. No wonder why you're showing me your cock," she said with a laugh.

"Nonsense, I don't think of you as a hussy, Susan. I think you are a splendid young woman. If I had a daughter, I'd want her to be just like you."

I bet you'd love to have a daughter who looked like me, thought Susan, while laughing to herself over the X-rated antics of her perverted friend. If you had a daughter, I bet you'd flash her your cock in the way that you flash me your cock. I bet you'd ogle her panties and bra in the way that you ogle mine.

"I'm so very embarrassed. I had no idea my knees were so open and my skirt had climbed up so high. I didn't know you could see my panties and I had no idea that you could see my cleavage and bra," said Susan standing, while still playing his game and still staring at his exposed prick. "More focused on the bottles and cans, I didn't even know you were purposely flashing me your penis all this time, Walter. You must think that I'm such a ditsy blonde," she said with an exaggerated laugh.

"I don't think any such thing. my dear, I think of you as a beautiful, sexy, and desirable woman," he said stepping closer to her to hand her some money. "Please accept this donation to your cause."

"Thank you, Walter."

Just as they did in the alleyway in Harrisburg, when Walter handed Susan the twenty dollars, he grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her hand to his uncovered penis, while holding her hand there in place.

"Touch me, Susan. Please feel my cock. Wrap your fingers around my big prick and stroke me. I'm so hot for you," he said grabbing a handful of her breast through her blouse, while running a finger across her emerging nipple that suddenly made its appearance to push against her bra. "You're just so damn beautiful."

"No Walter. Please, stop. I told you before that I'm not that kind of girl," she said pulling her hand away to prolong the tease, while knowing he'd try the same thing next week and, next week, just as she had the week before, she'd allow him to go a little further. Then, needing to keep him interested by showing him that she wasn't a slut, her way of giving him the sex that he wanted, while getting him to give her the money that she needed, she voiced her outrage. "How dare you disrespect me in such a deplorable way? How dare you put my hand on your cock and grab my breast? How dare you treat me like a common whore?"

"Sorry, Susan. I'm so sorry. I just can't help myself, whenever I'm alone with you. Please take this hundred dollars for the homeless," he said pulling a hundred from his other pocket and handing her both the twenty and hundred together.

"Thank you, Walter. I'll make sure it gets put to good use."

"Will I see you next week?"

"Okay, but only if you behave, Walter," she said staring down at his exposed cock again to give him more fodder to masturbate over, after she left.

Same time, same game, next week, their flashing and teasing games continued. Only this time, when Walter pulled her hand to his cock, she accepted him in her hand and wrapped her fingers around him, before slowly stroking him to an erection.

"I really shouldn't be doing this, Walter, but I just can't help myself," she said exchanging her disgust for lust. "I'm only human, too, and it's been a long time, since I've had a man's cock in my hand."

"That's right, Susan, wrap your fingers around my cock. Stroke me. Faster, just a little faster. Oh, yeah, baby, that's it. Don't stop. Faster. Please don't stop. Oh, my God, that feels so incredibly good, Susan."

"I can't believe I'm doing this, Walter. I'm not that kind of girl," she said holding his cock tighter, while stroking him faster. "I just don't feel right about this," she said stroking him even faster.

"Make me cum, Susan, and I'll give you more money to help the homeless," he said stuffing several twenties down her blouse and tucking them in her bra, as his pretense to feel her big tit and finger her erect nipple.

Once he coughed up the money, she stroked him even faster. Then, when she felt his excitement swell, when she could feel him getting ready to cum, as if she was a teenager giving her first hand job in the backseat of a car, on the pretense of suddenly realizing what she was doing was wrong, and becoming frightened, she abruptly stopped just before the point of no return. Stopping there made him want her even more. Encouraging his generosity, stopping there served her purpose, until next week.

"Sorry, but I can't do this, Walter. This is so wrong," she said releasing his stiff prick. "Even for the sake of helping to feed the homeless, I can't prostitute myself. I can't believe you forced yourself on me. I have to go," she said leaving his garage in a hurry.

"I'm sorry, Susan. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," said Walter calling after her and obviously filled with more sexual frustration than sadness. "Will I see you next week?"

"Yes, but only if you respect me and not force yourself on me."

"Okay, I promise," said Walter, with a sly grin.

The following week, going just a little bit further each week, enough to get him to cough up even more cash, she wore her sheer, barely there panties, along with her peasant top, the one that fell far enough open that he could see her areolas and nipples down her blouse through her sheer, barely there matching bra. She gave him a good show of her panty clad, trimmed, blonde pussy, every time she squatted, and Walter was already hard by the time he reached for her wrist and pulled her hand to his cock. This time, she readily accepted his cock in her hand and tightly wrapped her fingers around his exposed prick to gave him a real hand job. This time, it didn't take him long to explode his lust for her all over his garage floor. Happy to stuff more money down her bra, happy to satisfy her need to help the homeless, so long as she satisfied his need to have sex with her, he gave her even more money than last week.

Knowing that it was inevitable, so long as he kept stuffing even more money down her bra, maybe next week she'd suck his cock just enough to maintain his interest and increase his donation. Then, the following week, maybe she'd allow him to play with her tits, while she'd really suck his prick. Perhaps, the next week, she'd even allow him to cum in her mouth. If he paid her enough money, she'd even let him eventually fuck her. Playing him for as much money as he was willing to give, a win/win situation for both of them, money for her and sex for him, obvious by his erection and him handing her money, her reason for returning, this was a game that they both enjoyed playing.

Donating whatever excess cash he gave her that she didn't need, she donated to the homeless shelter that sheltered her, the mission that fed her, and the church that helped her. Realizing that if all of those who had excess money to give, freely gave, there'd no longer be anyone homeless or hungry. Yet, with so many poor and needy, and with so many people too cheap to give, and with those who give expecting something in return, able to justify milking Walter out of some of his wealth, she didn't feel guilty about playing him, especially in the way that he was trying to take advantage of her. Besides, with Walter reminding her of her grandfather, who gave her a dollar, every time he hugged her, she liked the kindly old man and now wondered if her grandfather had been a pervert, too.

Then, heightening her game, in an act of making him wild for her, next week, she decided to really tease him by not wearing panties. With her legs parted wide enough to show him what he was so looking to see, his eyeballs nearly fell out of her head, when she squatted down to retrieve the bottles and cans from his recycling bin. So focused on staring at her exposed pussy, he didn't even bother flashing her his cock.

"Oh, Walter," she said, when feeling the heat of his stare, "aren't you tired of this game of looking up my skirt, while exposing your cock to me?" She watched him staring at her exposed pussy, every time she squatted to collect the recyclables he had put out for her.

"Oh, my God, Susan, thinking that I was imagining it, I couldn't believe my eyes at first, but you're not wearing any panties. I can't believe your pussy is right there in plain view, right before my eyes."

"Oops, sorry, Walter, I forgot to grab a pair," she said lifting the hem of her skirt to look between her legs. "I was in such a rush to leave the house that I forget to finish getting dressed. If I wasn't so young, I'd think that I was getting Alzheimer's disease," she said with a laugh. "How embarrassing is that? Please don't look at my pussy, Walter. I'm so very embarrassed," she said still squatting down with her knees still parted wide enough open to show him some pink.

"Are you going to give me a hand job again, Susan? After seeing your trimmed, blonde pussy, I could really use one. I really need to cum, Susan," he said with a look of hopefulness, as if having just asked his mother for some candy, while never removing his eyes from Susan's trimmed, blonde pussy.

"No, sorry, Walter. Not today. I just can't do that. It's wrong."

Walter had the face of a disappointed boy, when told that he wasn't getting a toy at the toy store.

"I was really hoping you would, Susan," said Walter undoing his bathrobe tie, pushing open his bathrobe, and taking his cock in hand, while slowly stroking himself.

"Walter! Oh, my God, you're embarrassing me. Someone will see you. I'll tell you what," said Susan watching him stroking himself faster.

"What?" He stepped closer to her, while stroking himself faster. Afraid that he was trying to cum to give her a real cum bath, while she squatted to go through his recycling bin, Susan stood.

"What if I sucked your cock, instead, Walter? Would that be okay? Would you like for me to blow you, Walter, instead of giving you a hand job? Would you like for me to give you a blowjob, Walter? I've been told that I'm a really good cocksucker."

"Oh, my God, are you kidding me? Yes, a sexual fantasy come true, I'd love for you to suck my cock, Susan," he said, as if being told by his mother that she was taking him to Disney World. He removed a wad of cash from his bathrobe pocket, peeled off several, crisp, new one hundred dollar bills, and tucked the money in her bra, while cupping her big breast and fingering her erect nipple.

In readiness of blowing him, Susan spread out a plastic bag on the dirty garage floor, before kneeling in front of him. With Walter staring down at her with his beady, brown eyes, Susan stared up at him with her big, blue eyes, while fondling the head of his cock with her fingers. Then, feeling his lust for her through his cock, she stroked him to a harder erection, before moving closer to take his hard cock in her mouth. Immediately, she felt a gentle hand to the back of her pretty blonde head. Not wasting any time, she was sucking him now, really sucking him, while stroking him. No doubt intent on cumming, he was humping her mouth and fucking her face, as if she were a blowup doll and her mouth was a glory hole.

By cupping his balls and tightening her grip around his erect prick, while stroking him faster, she could feel when he was ready to explode the lust that he had for her. Yet, before passing the point of no return again, just as she did with the hand job the week before, she stopped sucking him, spit him from her mouth, and stood. Had she done this with some back alley man in Harrisburg, he would have forced her to finish the job. Yet, Walter, a meek and mild manager, a retired top executive of one of Hershey's famed, successful companies, although he would have wanted to cum in her beautiful mouth, by the delirious look on his face, obviously, he appreciated even half a blowjob.

"I can't do this, Walter. My knees hurt. Besides, this is so terribly wrong. I've crossed the line. Even with you donating money to a good cause, this is perversion. This is prostitution. I feel so dirty. I hope I haven't ruined our friendship by crossing the line and by dirtying it with sex in offering to give you a blowjob. Please forgive me, Walter. I'm so sorry to have needlessly excited and frustrated you."

"Oh, my God, Susan, don't be silly. You haven't ruined our friendship and I'm so sorry that I made you feel that way," he said stuffing more money down her bra, while feeling her tits and taking a long pause, before speaking again. "Do you think, maybe, next week, you can finish the blowjob?" As if a dog being left alone for the day, he looked at her with sad eyes. "I've been wanting to know for years, what it would feel like to cum in a woman's mouth. My wife, Hillary, God rest her soul, didn't do oral sex," he said taking another thoughtful pause. "If you wouldn't mind terribly and forgive me for saying so, but I'd really love to cum in your pretty mouth, Susan."

"Gees, I don't know, Walter. You're putting me on the stop. Giving you a blowjob is one thing but allowing you to cum in my mouth is quite another. That's a big step. I only agreed to give you a hand job a couple of weeks ago and now here I am on my knees sucking your cock. What's next? Will you be asking to fuck me? Will you be expecting me to give you anal sex? We'll see, Walter, we'll see," she said waving her good-bye leaving, while counting her money, as she walked up the street with her shopping cart.
The following week, as it was the week before, dressed in his bathrobe and slippers with nothing else underneath, Walter was waiting for Susan with a small, plush carpet put out in front of where he was standing, obviously, for the comfort of Susan's knees. Weird that he never invited her inside his house, perhaps in respect of his deceased wife, he wasn't comfortable doing that. More probable, with his wife gone, Walter didn't appear the type to keep a tidy house and maybe he was embarrassed to show her that he was a pig. Always, they met in his garage. This time, not wasting time with idle chatter or with bottles and cans, immediately, Susan assumed her kneeling position and took Walter in her mouth. Determined for him to cum in her mouth, she was really sucking and stroking him now, as Walter stuffed a handful of hundred dollar bills down her blouse and bra, while feeling her tits and trying to finger her nipples.

"Suck me, Susan. Suck my cock," said Walter placing a fat hand behind her blonde head to, no doubt, insure that her mouth didn't prematurely abandon his cock this time. "Stroke me. Stroke me faster. Yeah, that's it. Oh, my God, Susan. This is so unbelievable. Oh, my God, Susan. Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. Don't stop. Please don't stop," he said stuffing a few more hundreds in her bra. This time, while pushing her head forward and impaling her mouth with his stiff prick, he unloaded a mouthful of cum in her pretty mouth and, immediately, she spit out all that he gave her.

"Oh, my Walter. That was so much cum. You filled my mouth with so much cum that I could barely breathe."

"That was wonderful, Susan. Indeed, you are a very skilled cocksucker," he said watching her wipe his cum from her lips, "but do you think next week, you could swallow?"

"I don't know, Walter. We'll see? I'd have to be in the mood and with all the worries that I have about not collecting enough money for the homeless--"

"Don't worry about money, Susan. Don't you worry your pretty head about money. I'll pay you plenty, I mean, I'll donate more," he said staring at her, while reaching out to feel her breast and finger her hard nipples through her blouse and bra. "And," he said pausing again, "do you think next week that I could see and play with your titties, while you blew me? I really like feeling your big tits and playing with your hard nipples, especially while you're sucking my cock."

"Gees, Walter, you make me feel like a hooker, instead of an advocate for the homeless collecting money for the poor. I thought we were friends," said Susan sadly, while suppressing a feigned tear.

"I'm sorry, Susan. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to make you feel like a hooker and we are friends. Actually, Susan, now that my Hillary is gone, you're the only friend that I have. I'll tell you what, I'll donate extra money to the homeless, Susan, if you swallow and allow me to see and play with your titties."

"We'll see, Walter. We'll see. If someone saw me sucking your cock and reported me, I could get in trouble for this. Practically having sex in public, I could be arrested for this."

"Don't worry, Susan," said Walter looking out his open garage door, "no one will see you. "I'm the last house on a dead end street. The only person who comes here is the mailman and he's already delivered the mail."

Same time, same thing next week, Susan got on her knees, as soon as she entered Walter's garage. She unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her front snapping bra to expose her perfect C cup breasts to Walter. Immediately, his hands were all over her big tits, touching them, feeling them, and caressing them, while pinching, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples.

"Oh, my God, Susan, you have the best tits, I've ever seen and felt, he said. "Your tits are so much better than my Hillary's saggy tits, God rest her soul. I just love your tits," he said, while Susan busied herself taking his cock in her mouth, stroking him, and sucking him.

He was already hard, the hardest he's ever been, from playing with her tits and from her sucking him. Maybe because Susan not only allowed him to see her breasts but also to play with her big tits, but he exploded his cum in her mouth almost immediately. This time she swallowed and this time, when she hooked up her bra, he filled both of her bra cups with two handfuls of hundred dollar bills.

* * * * *

And so it went with Susan going from house to house. Sometimes, instead of a man giving her a flash and wanting a quick feel, it was a woman.

"Susan! How are you?"

Stella stood on her front porch holding her bathrobe in place with her arm, while shivering from the chill of the early morning air. Having already seen her naked body before, in the same way as Walter, Susan knew she wasn't wearing anything beneath her robe. A rich widow, who drinks too much to soothe her loneliness and her struggle with lesbianism, Susan liked Stella. Much like her, she was intelligent, strong, and fun.

"I'm good, Stella. How are you?"

"Horny, Susan, I'm always horny," she said with a laugh, while taking her sip of her alcohol laced coffee at 9am in the morning. "I wish I could find a young, boy toy like J. Lo found. I could use a stiff one right about now and I'm not talking about a drink," she said with a dirty laugh. "Come inside, I have some bottles and cans for you to take," she said escorting Susan inside her house. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made some fresh."

"Sure, I could use something stiffer than Walter's little cock," said Susan taking encouragement from Stella to talk about penises.

Stella put out a coffee cup, poured Susan some coffee, and added a shot of Sambuca.

"Was Walter flashing you his little cock again?" Stella laughed with Susan. "He's harmless. He's flashed everyone in the neighborhood his little prick. Seeing his little cock is more funny than it is shocking."

"It's all part of the game we play for him to cough up a few extra dollars for the homeless," she said wondering if she knew that she was doing more than allowing Walter to flash her. "I don't mind seeing his cock, seen one, seen them all. He flashes me his cock and I flash him my panties in an up skirt view and my bra and cleavage in a down blouse view, while squatting down to go through is recycling bin. I'm sure he masturbates over all that he flashed of himself to me and all that he saw of me, as soon as I leave. Only, this time he put my hand on his cock," she said figuring that if Stella heard differently, in an attempt to save her reputation, she'd say that Walter forced her to blow him, too. "Eww."

"Well, you're secret is safe with me, Susan," she said removing her robe to stand in her kitchen naked. "There's nothing that I don't have that you don't have and haven't seen before," she said looking down at her nakedness, before addressing Susan's shocked look with a laugh.

All part of the show and tell game that these uptight, sexually frustrated, rich residents played, Susan stared at Stella's naked body. With pert, B cup breasts, a toned stomach and shapely legs from playing golf and tennis at the country club and swimming laps in her in-the-ground heated pool, she looked pretty good for a mature woman. Obvious from the looks that she gave her, just as Walter wants a younger woman, so doesn't Stella want a younger woman, too. If she was Walter, she'd do her, but Susan wasn't interested in women in the way that she was interested in men and in the way that Stella was interested in her. Nonetheless, just as she played with Walter, a game they both enjoyed playing, in the way that Stella hoped to sexually take advantage of Susan, Susan hoped to receive a larger monetary donation from Stella.

"Aren't you cold, Stella?" Susan laughed, before taking another sip of her coffee.

"I'm used to walking around naked, especially out back. I enjoy giving all the old, frustrated men in the neighborhood a flash of my tits, ass, and pussy," she said with a laugh. "Actually, I've been thinking about becoming a nudist," she said turning from side to side, before turning completely around and putting her arms over her head with one leg bent in her best Betty Paige Playboy cheesecake pose. "What do you think?"

"You certainly have the body to walk around naked, Stella," said Susan taking a sip of her coffee. "Only, you have too good of a body to become a nudist. Have you seen some of the nudists? Most nudists are old and fat," said Susan with a laugh.

"I'd fit right in, then. I'm old and fat," she said sucking in her stomach and laughing.

"You're hardly old, Stella, and you're definitely not fat. You have a beautiful body. How old are you, 50-years-old?"

"Thank you. You're too kind, but add another dozen years to that," she said with laugh, before taking another longer sip of her coffee and before pouring herself another. "It's amazing what a few Botox injections along with a bit of plastic surgery, a lift here and a tuck there, can do for an old broad like me."

"I only hope that I look as good as you do in twenty-three years," said Susan raising her coffee mug in toast of her friend.

"You know, Susan," said Stella pausing to make eye contact, while giving Susan a soulful look. "I'd give you a much larger donation, if you gave me what I want, in the way that you give Walter what he wants."

Susan wasn't surprised that Stella suspected or knew what she did with Walter, since he wasn't very discreet. Knowing him as she did, she wouldn't be surprised if told all his neighbors that he was having sex with her. Yet, remembering what Walter said about not having any friends, they probably wouldn't believe him, if he told them.

"All for a good cause, Stella, in helping to feed the homeless. I give Walter want he wants by a flash of my panties and bra and he flashes me his miniature cock," she laughed, while raising her coffee cup in toast to her friend.

"Tell me, be honest, just between us girls, did you suck his little cock? Did you allow him to cum in your pretty mouth," she said running a manicured finger across Susan's full lips, before leaning down to give Susan a peck on the lips.

"Stella, really, I'm not going to tell you what I do and don't do with someone and Walter's little prick is the last prick that I'd have in my mouth. Eww. I'm going to be sick by just the thought of it."

"Sorry, Susan. I was just teasing you to get a reaction. Seriously though, Susan, just as a comparison, wouldn't you prefer to lick my sweet, wet pussy," she said putting two fingers to her cunt and lifting her lips to show Susan some pink, "than to suck his little, wrinkled cock?"

"Thank you, Stella. I'm flattered, but I'm not lesbian, not yet, anyway. Maybe, lesbianism will be an option open to me, after I'm fed up with the antics of men," she said with a laugh.

"You've never made love to a woman?"

"No," said Susan with an uncomfortable laugh.

"How would you even know you're not lesbian then, if you've never made love to a woman? I always had feelings for women, but I never acted upon them, until my husband died," she said taking the liberty to stick her hand down Susan's low cut, open top and beneath her front snapping bra to cup her breasts, while fondling her nipple. "Doesn't that feel good, honey? Don't you like it when I show you some womanly affection?"

"It does feel good, Stella, and I'm flattered by your sexual attention, but the fact that you're a good looking woman, Stella, doesn't excite me in the way it would, if you were a good looking man fingering my nipples."

"I'd be very generous to your cause, Susan, if only you'd allow me to lick your pussy and even more generous, if you licked my pussy," said Stella removing her hand from Susan's blouse. "Who knows? Maybe there's a little lesbian inside of you, too," she said reaching her hand down and under Susan's short shirt to cup her pussy through her panty, while tracing her pussy slit with her manicured finger. "If you moved in with me, imagine all the fun we'd have." Then, when she tried moving Susan's panty aside with her fingernail, Susan stopped her.

"Please don't," said Susan squirming away. "I'm not comfortable with you doing that, Stella."

"Sorry, Susan, but you're so damn beautiful that every time you leave, I touch myself while fantasizing about making love to you."

"I should get those bottles and cans you have for me, Stella," said Susan standing. "I have more houses to hit."

"Don't you want to stay and take a nap with me?" Stella give Susan a lustful look.

"A nap? No, I'm not sleepy," said Susan with a laugh.

"I'm not either," said Stella returning her laugh and taking a step closer.

Stella put an arm around Susan's neck and kissed her. Parting her lips with her tongue, she gave her a long, wet kiss. This time, returning her kiss, she allowed Stella to stick her tongue in her mouth. In the way she did with Walter, she gave Stella the same sexual affection. Then, Susan reached out and felt Stella's naked breast and fingered her nipple. Then, when, Stella reached beneath her short skirt again to toy with her pussy through her panty, she pulled away again. Ready to only go only so far, maybe next week, she'd allow Stella to finger her pussy, while kissing her. Maybe the week after that, she'd allow Stella to eat her. Maybe then, the following week, she'd return the favor and lick her pussy, too.

"I have to go, Stella. Really, I do," said Susan recoiling.

"Well, I only have a couple of cans and bottles, but take this money for the homeless," she said giving Susan three new twenty dollar bills. "Maybe next week I can persuade you to stay longer, perhaps even overnight."

"We'll see, Stella," said Susan thinking about Stella's offer to live with her. "I like you. I really do. You're fun. Yet, maybe if you didn't pressure me, I may respond in kind, one day."

"Okay, that's fair enough," said Stella.

Susan left Stella's house to hit Robert's house, while thinking about Stella's offer of moving in with her. If not for her mother, she'd consider living with Stella. Only, what would she do with her mother? Would Stella take in her mother, too? As part of the living arrangements, would she be expected to have lesbian sex with Stella? If not for her mother, after all the bad experiences she's had with men, she'd consider having a lesbian relationship with Stella. Yet, she knew her mother wouldn't like it or understand why she'd had a lesbian love affair with Stella. Nonetheless, better than living in a small room with her mother in the church woman's home, living with Stella in her big house with her in-the-ground pool could be fun.

* * * * *

Robert, a photographer working from home, his wife was a doctor at the medical center. With his wife gone all day and, no doubt, tired when she arrived home, she suspected that Robert was as lonely as he was horny. As evidence to her belief that money doesn't buy happiness, in the splendor that these people lived, she'd think that they'd be happier, but they weren't. They were just as sad being rich as she was sad being poor. She pushed his doorbell and, as if expecting her, Robert immediately opened his door.

"Susan! Hello. Come in. Come in. You can leave your carriage there. No one will steal it in this neighborhood. Besides the police come out full force for the smallest infraction. Sometimes I feel as if I live in Beverly Hills."

"What do you have for me this week, Robert?"

"I have a small bag of bottles and cans, but more importantly, when are you going to allow me to photograph you?"

"Why would you want to photograph me, Robert? Look at me, I'm such a frightful mess," said Susan giving him soft smile, while throwing back her lush, blonde hair with a sexy shake of her head.

"Nonsense. You're drop dead gorgeous. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Susan? Oh, my God, you're every man's dream woman."

"Yes, all the time and I see the same sad, old face that ages every day staring back at me."

"Nonsense. Nonsense. You're not old. Trust me, having just turned 55-years-old, old enough to join AARP, I feel old," he said with a laugh. He looked at her, as if summing up all her parts. "How old are you?"

"You know you're not supposed to ask a woman her age or weight, but I'll be 40-years-old July 26th. And, before you ask, I'm a shapely 128 pounds," she said putting a hand to her waist and flipping out her hips.

"I'm 5'10", he said standing next to her. "What are you 5'8"?"

"Yeah," she said looking to be the same height as him with her shoes.

"Come down to my studio. I want to show you my work."

"I'm not going to remove my clothes, Robert, for you to photograph me," she said with a laugh.

"If you won't get naked, maybe I can convince you to wear something more sexy and sensual than what you're wearing now," he said with a look, as if he was already undressing her with his eyes.

"Here, go behind the screen and put on this," he said handing her what looked like one of his white shirts.

"Should I leave my bra and panty on or would you prefer I removed those, too," she said teasing him with a laugh and surprising him, when she removed her bra and panties.

"If you're asking, I'd prefer you model for me in the nude."

"Robert, you know that I won't do that."

"You need to trust me, Susan. I'm a professional photographer. Think of me as you would your doctor. I'm a trained professional," he said raising his hands with a laugh, as if he had just sterilized them. "Matter of fact, my wife is a doctor and that makes me a doctor, not so much by medical training, but by marriage," he said with a laugh. "I can do everything she can, but operate."

"Oh, I think you're operating just fine, Robert," said Susan laughing. "I can't believe I'm doing this but, maybe if I accommodate you, just this one time, you'll stop asking me to pose for you," she said removing all her clothes, her blouse, her short skirt, and even her bra and panty, before emerging from behind the screen in just his shirt that was only buttoned by three of the seven buttons, all of them by the stomach and lower chest.

"Sit there on the stool," he said putting a white screen behind her and adjusting his lights for less reflection.

"Gees, Robert, if I sit on the stool, I'll be flashing you more than I want you to see and/or photograph of me," she said pulling the shirt tighter around her lower half.

"I'll avert my eyes, while you scoot up on the stool to sit like the lady that are," he said putting his splayed fingered hand over his eyes, while laughing. "Just tell me when you're ready."

No doubt flashing him her naked pussy, Susan scooted up on the stool and crossed her legs.

"I'm ready," she said, "now that you just saw everything that I own."

"No, that won't work," he said going into his photographer mode. "Uncross your legs. You have such shapely legs that I don't want you to hide them."

With a hand holding the shirt down to her lap, Susan uncrossed her legs.

"How's that?"

"Better," he said firing off a dozen shots.

"Do you mind?" He walked to her to unbutton one more button of her shirt, before flaying it open more. With so much of her breasts exposed, barely covering her areolas and nipples, if she moved one way or turned the other, one or both of her breasts would flop out of the shirt.

"Gees, Robert. Suddenly, I feel so exposed. I feel so naked."

"You're stunningly beautiful, Susan. Say recyclables," he said looking through his lens, while firing off a dozen more shots, before she could even utter the word.

"Recyclables," she said, as his camera clicked and flashed.

"Say help the homeless," she said posing, while he took more photographs of her.

"Help the homeless," she said posing one way, before posing another.

"Say Earth Day," he said firing his camera at her, as if it was an automatic weapon.
"Earth Day," she said while he shot a dozen more photographs of her. "I think that's enough Robert. I'm blinded by all the flashes. All I can see are spots and you're making me dizzy by moving around me so much."

Robert took a few more photos of her in different poses, before stopping. Every time she moved, she had to fix her shirt for her breasts and/or pussy not to be totally exposed. Then, after he was done photographing her, when she was standing behind the screen changing into her clothes to leave, while Robert talked to her, he accidentally, no doubt, on purpose bumped the screen and it fell forward flat on the floor.

"Oops. Sorry Susan," he said firing off a dozen photos in quick succession of her standing there without her clothes.

"Robert!" Cowering there totally naked, without the aid of a screen, knowing she was a contestant playing his game of exhibitionism and voyeurism, she covered her breasts with her forearm and her pussy with her hand.

"I'd lift the screen up for you, Susan, but with my bad back, I can't," he said shooting a dozen more photos, before putting a hand to his back, while feigning pain. "I'll just turn around the other way, while you finish getting dressed," he said turning to look at her image in the mirror that conveniently faced her, while shooting more photos of her reflection through the mirror.

Susan pretended she didn't know that he could see her reflection in the mirror and, on the pretense that his back was turned to her, she gave him a real slow show of her naked body, while slowly and seductively getting dressed.

"Well, thank you for allowing me to photograph you," he said handing her several one hundred dollar bills, along with a bag of cans and bottles.

"It was my pleasure," said Susan.

"No, trust me, photographing you was all my pleasure," he said laughing, while scrolling through the naked photos of her on his camera. "I'll have the pictures ready next week for you to choose those you'd like to have at no charge."

"Thank you, I think," said Susan with a laugh.

"You're so very welcome, Susan. I'll see you next week."

* * * * *

Finally, after a long recession, the job market coughed Susan up a job. After all of her generous contributions and hard work collecting bottles and cans, she was hired as the new director for the local homeless shelter. Giving up her route of collecting cans, she didn't know that Walter had died of a sudden heart attack, until contacted by his lawyer, that he had made arrangements for her in his will. He left her ten thousand shares of Hershey stock that were valued at more than six hundred thousand dollars, along with his house, valued at eight hundred thousand dollars, and his cherished car, a classic Mercedes convertible.

A wealthy woman now, Susan generously shared her wealth with not only the homeless shelter that once sheltered her, the mission that once fed her, but also the church that was always there to help her. Having firsthand knowledge of what it truly feels like to be hungry and homeless, she helped put programs in place to help disadvantage women. In addition, using her own money, a grant she received from the state, and money received from donations solicited from local businesses, she established a job training program for misplaced women that found them jobs, after graduation. Giving them an hope and a better alternative, no longer would women have to collect bottle and cans, while being felt up and give hand jobs in dirty alleys.

Shortly after Walter died, Stella died, too. While on a cruise to Italy, she accidentally fell overboard, after having too much to drink. Deemed accidental drowning, Susan wondered if Stella's untimely death was suicide. She, too, remembered Susan in her will, leaving her beloved house to her. Susan sold Walter's house but kept Stella's house and lived there with her mother, until her mother died. Now, living alone and literally high on the hill, where the wealthy people live in Hershey, Susan was living the good life. No longer having to work at a job, rubbing elbows with the rich and influential, she spent her time holding fund raisers for homeless organizations, while championing the causes for those who didn't have money enough to have a voice.

* * * * *

"Ding dong!"

Someone was at her door. It was unusual for anyone to ring her front doorbell, as all of her friends know to come to the back door. Having just gotten out of the shower, with her wet hair contained by a towel, she was only wearing her sheer, short robe. She peered through the front door curtain, before opening the door.

Standing on her stoop was a good looking, twenty-something-year-old man, wearing a Hershey Bears sweatshirt and ball cap. His shopping cart was parked out front with a sign prominently displayed, Hershey Hockey Team Bottle and Can collection drive for the homeless. Reminding her of him, so long ago, she opened her front door.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said staring at the impression her big tits made in her sheer robe. Not having to strain his eyes to see more of her through her sheer robe than he could have ever hope to imagine, he smiled his lust at her, no doubt, when he saw her nipples making their appearance. "I'm collecting bottles and cans for the Hershey's hockey in support of the homeless," he said talking to too much of her exposed breasts.

Being the exhibitionist that she's always admitted to being, just as Stella gave the neighborhood men a flash of her naked body, Susan enjoyed doing the same thing, so long as she made her flashes appear accidental. Loving to tease men, it more aroused her, when her flashes appeared accidental. She loved it, when the men wondered if what they just saw was by accident or on purpose.

"How nice," she said. "Come around back and I'll meet you in the garage. I keep all my recyclables there."

Having learned from Walter and Stella, while the man walked around her house to her garage, Susan opened her bathrobe a little more and folded over one side, while loosening her bathrobe tie. Now, when she squatted, she'd flash him more than just her interior bathrobe material. With just a squat here and a turn there, she'd be flashing him her breasts and her pussy, in the way that Walter used to flash her his cock. She met him out in the garage and he was already staring at the impressions that her nipples made in the thin material of her sheer bathrobe. By the apparent evidence of the bulge in his jeans that he unsuccessfully tried to conceal with his hand, her favorite game to play, she enjoyed this game of exhibitionism and voyeurism.

"Well, here's my recycling bins. I have one for bottles and another for cans. As you can see, they are quite full, as I recycle everything," she said, while reaching in one to pull out a can and in the other to pull out a bottle.

When she leaned in the tall recycling bins, just as she knew he'd be looking and he was, she knew the top of her robe would fall open enough for him to see her breasts, areola, and nipple, and it did. Then, she squatted down with him on the pretense of going through her smaller recycling bins that were mixed with bottles and cans.

"Thank you for donating all of these," he said loading his cart.

"I'm just so happy you came by," she said. "I haven't had time to bring these to the donation center."

With her squatting down in front of him and both sides of her robe off her thighs, her blonde pussy was in full view of his testosterone filled eyes.

Even though he was no longer collecting bottles and cans for the Hershey's hockey team, he stopped by every week just to visit. Just as she continued to flash him, wearing shorts that had wide legs and not wearing any underwear, he flashed her his cock in the way that she had flashed him her pussy and tits. It was inevitable that things would escalate and they did culminating in sex, dating, and marriage. Even though Susan was twenty years older, she finally found her perfect man just by collecting bottles and cans, while making friends.

Happy Earth Day. If you recycle maybe you'll make a friend, too, one day, like Susan did.

THE END

This is an Earth Day contest story. Please vote, comment, and add me and my story to your list of favored authors and favored story. Thank you for reading, voting, and/or commenting on my story.