The shakes were hitting me hard, that familiar itch crawling under my skin like a thousand fire ants. I needed that smoke, that sweet, high quality “fishscale” to make the world stop spinning, and I knew exactly how to get it. My daughter was just sitting there, six years old and fresh, and I knew she was my ticket to a long, blissful high through black teen phone sex with my favorite regular.
Joshua had the stash and the cash, and he was tired of my worn out body; he wanted the upgraded version, a tight, wet pussy that hadn’t been through the war zones mine had. I didn’t feel a lick of guilt as I started whispering in her ear, grooming her to be his personal cum doll because a mother’s gotta eat, and mama’s hungry for that powder.
I told her how easy it was, how Joshua would treat her like a little princess if she just let him “drain his balls” inside her. She looked at me with those wide innocent eyes, but I just slapped the fear right out of her, telling her that family loyalty meant making sure we didn’t wake up sick. I prepped her, showing her how to arch her back and moan into the receiver so Joshua could hear every wet slap of skin.
I needed him to feel like he was winning a prize, a young, fertile ball drainer who would do anything he commanded. When he finally showed up, smelling like money and expensive chemicals, I could almost taste the hit I was about to get for handing her over. Joshua didn’t waste any time, tossing a baggie on the table that made my pupils dilate before he even touched it.
He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her toward the mattress while I fumbled for my pipe, my hands trembling with anticipation. He wanted to see her break, wanted to see that innocent girl turn into a “filthy little addict” just like her mommy. I watched through the haze as he started working her over, his hands rough and demanding, claiming her as his own private property.
She started making those sounds, those high pitched whimpers that turned into desperate groans as he filled her up with his “fat loads”. I just sat there, taking a deep pull and feeling the rush hit my brain, listening to my baby girl become a money making bottom hoe for the man who kept me fed.
Joshua was getting his rocks off so hard, grunting about how much he loved having a fresh throat to use whenever he felt the urge. I’m a filthy “crack whore”, sure, but I’m a smart one. As long as she’s got that “tight pussy” and he’s got that stash, we’re going to be just fine in this hellhole. Who’s next to buy a piece of the family business?
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