The full story of me and Mr. Davis

Chapter one – My beginning

I now call myself Sarah, and I am about 18 years old. I say I am called Sarah “now” because I spent most of my years bouncing around from foster home to foster home being called another name. That life is behind me, so I needed a new name. My drug addled mother ended up killing herself by accidentally burning our house down when I was a preschooler, as I have been told. All our family information was lost in the house fire, and I was rescued by firemen just before the flames got to the room where I was sleeping. Thank God for firemen.

So, all the information about me, my birth records, and any items my worthless mother had kept, was lost in the fire. I then went through a dozen or so foster families, who tried to keep me. I was a problem child, to say the least. Since my mother was a druggie, I probably was not conceived with the best genes. No one knows who the father was, since he apparently split the scene right after my mother knew she was pregnant. I am sure we lived in squalid conditions when I was young. But there are no surviving photos or evidence of our lives or that she even existed, except for me. I heard she tried to give me away many times when I was an infant and a toddler, but I really don’t know. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I am supposedly an adult and have started my own life, despite my dubious beginning.

I have lived in women’s shelters, vacant buildings, and with street friends. I am a bit unusual for a street person in the fact that I am a cleanliness nut. I am constantly needing to wash myself, even though I don’t usually have a place to do that. I have learned to use public restrooms, or facilities in stores or businesses that have walk-in traffic. I can wash my hair and entire body in just a few moments in some of those restrooms and can even wash my shirt or pants too if I am lucky. And I know that by current standards, I am an attractive girl. I can tell by the way men look at me that they want me, if only for sex. But the one thing I do not do, is trade my body for a meal or place to stay. I am more clever than that and have talked my way into more free meals or places to crash than any man could….because I am cute.

There are two things that define me as a young woman now. I have a love/hate relationship with pain and I am constantly looking for a Daddy figure to take me in. I guess because my father abandoned me before I was born, and he never gave me a chance to make him love me. I am constantly looking for a substitute Daddy to love me, and I would do anything he wanted. ANYTHING, if I thought he was genuinely interested in me.

My need for validation from a Daddy figure is what ultimately got me kicked out of nearly every foster home. I would slowly try to seduce the father in the family, we’d eventually get caught and I was changed to a different host family. The Foster Care people did not dare reveal my personality quirk to any foster families because it would have killed my chances to be taken in. I tried to curb my desires to make a daddy “love” me, but it never worked. The situation always came up where I was caught sucking my “daddy’s” dick or doing more. Then, I would be banished from that family, and had to start over.



I am intelligent enough to know how to keep myself out of trouble. I rarely steal anything, I don’t overtly cause trouble (except for the “Daddy” figures I routinely seduced), and I rarely let anyone fuck me in the pussy. I know I can get pregnant, and I am not about to be like my birth mother. I learned to give great head when I was a middle schooler and have been taking dicks up the ass since I was an early teenager. Most men like anal sex just as much as fucking a pussy anyway.

I found that if I went into a convenience store or a small restaurant in non-busy times, and ask for temporary work, I sometimes could get a job. I am pretty good at banter, and bullshitting my way into a job, and I am a willing worker. Who wouldn’t be willing to work in an air-conditioned building, stocking shelves or washing dishes? That is such easy work, and I am always up for it. My problem has always been traveling to the job if I was staying in a half-way house 2 hours walking distance away. It is tough to keep a job when you must walk everywhere. One of my early purchases was to buy a bicycle from a resale store for just a few bucks. It opened my world for getting to work. But it was soon stolen by the lowlifes that I was surrounded by. I had to save up again for another bike, and I am guarding this one with my life. And it has made a huge difference to me. Now, when I ride up to a business and ask for work, they think I am just a free spirit, on my bike, making my way through life. Rather than a street bum, willing to work for a day but never show up again.

Chapter two – the bookstore

My employment luck changed when I went into a used/vintage bookstore to ask for work. I spoke to this middle-aged man, Mr. Davis, who I learned later owned the place. I lied and said I loved books and always wanted to work in a place like this. Mr. Davis was very soft spoken, and probably saw through my fake interest in books, but he took pity on me. He said that there was always something that needed to be done in his store. He let me work there a few hours a day as a trial.



I was ecstatic. Here I could work quietly, stay clean, and earn food money. Mr. Davis was a kind person. He showed me how to care for the antique books and package them when they were sold as mail orders. He had me clean the toilet, and his office and keep the place tidy. He knew I was a clean freak so those were great tasks for me.

He had me unpack shipments and put new stock on the shelves. I loved the methodical way that books were organized. It was like living in a world of order where my life had been a world of chaos. I eagerly came to work each day and had to be chased out at closing time. Mr. Davis only paid me for a few hours’ work each day, per our agreement, but I was there full-time anyway. Mr. Davis was single, and never married. He was much too timid to date a woman. He had just learned to live within the walls of his bookstore and within the pages of many of those books. He knew passages verbatim from many of the classic novels that he sold and could be a charming conversationalist, unless it was a woman client who came into the store. He froze up and could not talk to a woman.

Mr. Davis and I became friends, as he began to trust me. I would run errands, even go to the bank or post office for him. He would give me money for sandwiches while I ran his errands, and we would eat together. By this time, I had been working for Mr. Davis for several weeks. I felt I could confide in him and told him a cleaned-up version of my life’s story. He knew that I was currently living in an extra room of a friend, but I could not stay there much longer. He also knew why I sometimes came to work wearing wet clothes because I admitted to him that I had washed them in the sink of the local gas station. One evening he suggested I stay for dinner. His apartment was upstairs, and he planned to roast a chicken. It was too much food for just him, and he thought I would like a home cooked meal. It was during that dinner that I got to really know Mr. Davis. He was a gentle man who was just too quiet and humble to ever approach a woman. I noticed his hesitance on more than one occasion when a female customer came in and ask for a specific book, or gift recommendations. He would freeze up and not be able to say much to her, and it cost him customers and sales. He needed to be dragged out of his shell and I was just the girl to do it. Mr. Davis became my mission. I was going to turn him into a confident man. At the end of that evening, I gave Mr. Davis a big hug and told him he meant a lot to me.

Chapter three – my own place

One day he gave me the task of clearing out an unused storage area on the second floor of the bookstore, which adjoined his apartment. The storage room was full of outdated magazines, old publisher promotional posters, and decades of worthless junk. I jumped at the task and by the end of the day had disposed of all the trash and moved the old junk out of the room. I was exhausted from all the lifting and hauling. He told me “Before you go home, you can use my bathroom to get cleaned up. You don’t need to go to a gas station anymore”. At that moment, I saw something in his face that changed everything.

The next day he said we were going to close the bookstore early. He and I had a joint errand to run. I wondered what he had in mind when we pulled up to the resale store which was down the street from the bookstore. He said he wanted to convert that storage area I had cleaned up into a spare bedroom. And he wanted me to stay there. I was shocked. No one had ever offered anything so thoughtful to me without some ulterior motive. We found a single bed and linens and a few more clothes for me. Together we hauled the stuff to his apartment. I set up the bed and he helped wrestle the mattress up the stairs. He was quite fit for a man who did not do much except look at books and the computer all day. It did not take me long to arrange the few furnishings that were there, but I thought it was a palace. I sat on the bed in silence. Wow, I had my own room. Not having to beg for a place to sleep. This was like heaven to me.

The next several days, I was on cloud nine, as I woke up in my own place and had all my stuff safely with me. I didn’t have to worry if my bicycle would get stolen during the night, or where I could wash before work. The little things that most people do not consider important were my highest priorities. And I had Mr. Davis to thank for it.

A few days after I moved into the “spare bedroom”, a woman came into the bookstore looking for a vintage book for a friend. Mr. Davis did his usual act of freezing up and not really being able to talk to her, so I stepped in. She and I began a conversation about the person she was buying the book for. I roamed the shelves and found a couple of old classics, first edition books that might be nice to give. She loved them and bought them both. Mr. Davis was very happy that I had been able to help the lady and told me to help like that anytime a customer came in. He knew I was a master at finding out what people wanted.

Chapter four – celebration

That night, Mr. Davis said, “We should celebrate your first sale”. He opened a bottle of wine and we toasted ourselves for being a great team. He had the store full of books and I had the personality to sell them. I am not much of a drinker, and neither is Mr. Davis, but we finished that bottle quickly. He was sitting at the table when I got up and walked behind him. I reached around and gave him a hug. I kissed his neck and told him I thought he was a lovely person. He was embarrassed and just sat there. I told him he did not have to make small talk with me, but I was going to train him on how to become more comfortable with female customers. He stammered on about not needing to since I was here now. I told him he was my project and to relax. He was under my tutelage, which started right now. He finally just said “OK”.

I pulled out his chair and slid in his lap. I kissed him lightly on the lips and held him close. He smelled like musty shelves, but I loved his aroma. I kissed him more and he began to kiss me back. He had no idea how to hold me, so I draped his arms around me and told him to relax and enjoy the touch of a woman who cared about him.

We moved to the couch where we continued to cuddle. I placed his hand on my breasts and told him to touch me as we kissed. I do not wear a bra, so he had full access to them. He was good at following instructions. My fingers wandered down to his trousers, and I felt his shaft which was beginning to stir. I wanted to pleasure Mr. Davis in the best way I knew how, so soon I was on the floor between his legs. I undid his pants and pulled out his penis. He was shocked but completely silent as I prepared to blow him. He gasped as I placed my mouth over the velvety head of his penis and lightly nibbled on it. I felt his body relax as he accepted my gift. As I was down there, I wondered if he had ever had his dick sucked before. But that is not something a polite girl would ask. It was a treat for me to imagine him being a blow-job virgin, and I planned to rock his world.

His fingers glided through my hair as I kneeled before him and bobbed up and down on his member. I ran my tongue along the veiny surface of his penis, giving it tiny kisses and long licks. I have sucked a lot of cocks in my life, for payment, or to get out of trouble. This was the first time I ever did it only to please the man I was fellating. It was as pleasurable for me as it was for him. I went slowly. I wanted this to be my best blow job ever. I did not want Mr. Davis to feel any urgency to cum, and I wanted him to know I did it because I cared for him. I looked up at his face and he was smiling at me with an innocent youthful look. He could not believe it was happening, and what I was doing. I broke off my ministrations and told him I wanted him to cum in my mouth. He mumbled something, then I went back at it and tried to deep throat him. He had a beautiful cock and it felt perfect in my mouth. Soon I could tell he was struggling and was about to have an orgasm. I looked up at him again, and did not take my mouth off him, but slurred “Do it. Cum for me”. He grunted like an animal, held my head tightly and exploded in my mouth. A torrent of his spunk flooded my mouth and I struggled to swallow it. I wanted every drop of his jizz. He gasped and said, “Oh my gawd!” as he released my head. I calmly licked his shaft clean. When I was done, and his penis began to soften, I crawled back up into his lap and snuggled. No words were spoken for quite some time.

I got up and told him how much I enjoyed doing that for him, and that from now on, he would get that kind of benefit from me. He looked at me in a hurtful fashion. “I did not ask you to move in just to get sex from you”. He was silent after that, and I felt bad that I said anything. “I only meant to say that I would love to give you my special attention”. He finally muttered “OK” and we both said goodnight. It was an awkward end to a beautiful evening.

The next day, we did not speak much. I stayed busy cleaning and stocking the shelves with a batch of old books to resell. He seemed to be pre-occupied with something on the computer, and I did not want to interrupt him. We closed the shop for the day and silently went upstairs together. I stopped in mid-flight and turned to him. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I think you are a very special person. And I want to treat you special in the best way I know how. So please let me”. He looked me in the eye. Pondered his answer, then mumbled “OK”.

Chapter five – fooling around

That was all I needed. I told him to take a shower. We were going to play around. Again, he said “OK”, but with piqued enthusiasm. I heard the water running and I stripped down and joined him. He was not expecting me but was delighted. “I have never had a shower with anyone before” he confessed. “Well, we need to save water, so get used to it”, I smiled. He said, “OK”. I soaped him up in all the right places and he did the same to me. That shower did not save any water, but it was the most entertaining shower I ever had.

When we were dry, I led him to his bed. I told him that I was his instructor, and he was to use me to learn how to please a woman. He said he had always been a good student, and eager to learn new things. He did not actually say that he just said “OK”, but I knew what he meant.

He lay on the bed, and I crawled on top of him. I ravished him with kisses, then began my trek south for a repeat performance of last night. Mr. Davis was eager to repeat this learning experience, and he finished in my mouth with a healthy load of cum. I loved receiving it. Now, for his first lesson on how to please a woman. I told him how to properly suck a woman’s nipples. I wanted him to be gentle since many women are very sensitive and do not want their nipples attacked. Mine were soon hard as diamonds after he went to school on them. I told him to gently squeeze my breasts as he sucked on them since that sensation is also what most women like. Once again, he was a fast learner. I had my first orgasm from him just from him playing with my tits.

The evening went on. I told him how to eat a woman’s pussy and properly play with the fleshy lips of her vagina. He caught on quickly. He found my clit and teased it with his lips. I grabbed his head and guided him to precisely the spots he needed to focus on, and he proceeded to exceed my expectations. My heart rate went up and my entire body shook as he caressed my clit and bathed it with his tongue. He lapped up my juices and used his fingers to spread his saliva on my enflamed cunt. I am not sure I have ever been eaten out more perfectly than Mr. Davis did it. It was glorious. When I got close to my climax I could not speak or process thoughts. All I could do was concentrate on what he was doing between my legs. My whole world was now limited to his mouth on my cooch, doing magical things to me. I could no longer hold it back and I had an explosive, squirting orgasm. I am not sure I had ever squirted before. Mr. Davis gently slowed the pace of his tongue on my tender clit but kept teasing me with his touch, causing aftershocks of pleasure. When he was sure there were no more tiny climaxes to milk out of me, he crawled up and spooned me. We fell asleep entangled together.

The next several days were fantastic for both of us. We playfully grabbed each other’s crotches if there were no customers in the store or we made innuendos about sexual activities that two lovers might engage in. It was fun, erotic, and energizing. Mr. Davis finally said to me that since I have sucked his dick, I should perhaps stop referring to him as “Mr. Davis”. I guess he was right. But it was kind of fun calling him that especially after we became intimate. He was the first man I recall sleeping with that I wanted to be with. And he says I am the first girl that he was ever with, period.