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AAA Locksmith | Zigurat | 2

 

The phone rang.

“AAA Locksmith & Services,” I answered. “For all your lock and key needs. Bastille speaking.”

“Um, I’m sorry,” a woman said on the other end. “What did you say your name was?”

“I am the bastard, Bastille,” I sighed. “Owner and proprietor.”

“Ah, what happened to, um, Anastasia?”

“Anastasia Alanna Anatov had decided to retire and sold the business to me, the bastard Bastille.”

“Why do you refer to yourself that way?”

“Ah,” I said. “That is what I am, the bastard son of a bastard.”

“Did you know your father?”

“Gladly, no. The bastard whelped me upon my poor mother and left her to raise me without any support. So here I am now, waiting upon the souls of this world to meet their needs, both lock and key.”

“Um, Okay.”

“So, how can I help you today, ma’am?”

“I’m locked out of my house. I’m hoping you can be here quickly.”

“Late for work?”

“No.”

“Calling from a neighbor’s?”

“Not exactly.”

“Take your time, man, I’m gonna earn back my minutes, man!” I heard a man yell in a youthful voice on the woman’s end. “The lady’s gonna suck me off til you get here!

“Please hurry,” the woman whimpered.

“I dunno,” I said. “I was just about to leave for a couple other jobs. It could take some time.”

“C’mon, you bastard,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Well,” I paused. “I am a bastard.”

“Dammit!” she cursed. “Am I going to have to suck you off to get your ass out here?”

“No,” I said. “My cock is a friendly little fellow, but it doesn’t like to peck at another rooster’s leavings.”

“What is it then?” she snarled. “What do you want to fuck today, if my mouth is no good? A titty tunnel? An anal adventure? Or do you want to plunder my pussy?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“What?” she said, her voice full of surprise. “Why do you ask me that?”

“You would know best what you can handle.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

There was a pause on the line.

“Well,” she said. “I don’t have the breasts for you to ride my chest an’ I’ve never taken it up the ass before.” She paused. “Or you sure I can’t give you a blowjob? I’ve always gotten complements before.”

“No.”

“Dammit, I don’t want to give up my virginity this way!”

“Ma’am,” I said. “I have all day, and so do the other locksmith services.”

“Fine!” she growled. “Just get out here!”

“Now,” I said, after she gave me her address. “We need to work out the details of the payment for my services.”

“Huh? What happened for the standard fee?”

“Oh, that’s no different. But you’re probably gonna suck down a couple loads of cum by the time I get there. And if you want me there as fast as possible to keep the number of semen spurtings down, we need to formalize how many times we’re going to get down and dirty.”

“You have got to be shitting me,” she moaned. “How many times do you want to take me? One fuck for every second it takes you to get here?”

“Of course not, that would be outrageous. I was thinking of diving into your depths, say, once for every load the boy blows and since I should be there in no more than an hour, once for every minute it doesn’t take me to get there.”

“Which means what?”

“I would subtract the actual travel time from the hour and the difference would be the number of times I get to boff your booty.”

“I, I guess that’ll work,” she said. “Will you be including how long it takes you to unlock the door?”

“Nope.”

“Will, will you want to drive your dick into me all, all at once?”

“Of course not. Would that really be fair to you? Once I’ve fulfilled my bargain and you’ve received my receipt, we’ll work out a payment plan.”

“O-okay.”

“Allrighty then. I’m on my way.”

“Please hurry,” she pleaded softly.

 

How long do I, the bastard Bastille, travel to the maiden's door? (Be realistic.)


          45 minutes

 
 
 

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