Fun with a homeless girl

Two years after my second kid and six years since I had done it, I was feeling the urge again. I tried to suppress it for as long as I could, but it was no use. The desire was too strong. Eventually I gave in and started to get ready.

I told my husband that I needed a spa weekend and booked myself a package at one of the fancier hotels in the city. We live in a commuter suburb, so it was about a 45 minute drive to the downtown hotel. I left Friday evening when my husband got home from work. I made sure he knew where everything was for the kids, that he remember the play date tomorrow then kissed him goodbye.

I got to the hotel just before seven. I got checked in with plenty of time to get to my massage at eight. Then I had a manicure and pedicure, and finally got back to my room at around ten. I had a light snack and some wine from room service, and went to bed. I had to take a sleeping pill to get to sleep, I was so nervous for the next day.

My phone rang at seven that morning with my wake up call. I had breakfast, then went for a full wax followed by a mud bath and face mask. By the time everything was done, it was eleven. Now for the tricky stuff.

First I hit the bank and got $600 in twenties. Then I got a hold of an old friend, who put me in touch with a dealer. By one o’clock I had $540 and a few small baggies of powder cocaine. The next stop was an adult store. I bought a small strap on dildo and harness, small buttplug, lube, two pairs of padded cuffs, a small ball gag and a length of restraint rope. The bill was just over two hundred dollars, which was painful because I was only going to use the things tonight, but I couldn’t keep them at home.

I went back to the hotel and put my new toys away. I was soaking wet, thinking of how I was going to use them later, and it was an effort of will to resist masturbating. As it was, I changed into a fresh pair of panties. I had a small snack at the cafe in the hotel lobby, then got into my car. Now came the tricky part.

The hotel was in the downtown core, which placed it near by some of the more run down parts of town and a few homeless shelters, which is part of why I chose it. Even better, since the last time I did this, a charity opened up a shelter specifically for LGBT youth. My husband and I had even donated to it in the past, and I had a cheque to drop off there.

I had a brief but pleasant meeting with the man running the shelter that day, and he gave me a brief tour of the facility, thanking me for the donation. It was a converted house, with rooms set up with two twin beds, a big communal dinning room and rec room. I didn’t stay long, but I kept my eye on all the girls there. Unfortunately I didn’t have a chance to approach any as the shelter supervisor was with me the whole time. I thanked him for his time and left, trying to think of what to do next.

Then, after I left and I was walking towards my car, I got lucky. There was a girl of 18 or 19 walking towards the shelter. She had the rundown clothes in multiple layers of someone who was living on the street. Her hair was lank and greasy, and might have been dark blonde under the grime. She was walking towards the shelter, probably looking for a bed and a warm meal.

“Hello there sweetie,” I said. “Are you heading to the shelter?” The girl just kind of shrugged, not looking at me. “It’s okay,” I told her. I understand. I even donate to it.” This time the girl gave me a little smile.