in West Philadelphia. All the hustlers wanted her and all the women hated her, and with good reason. Maggie had come up rough, with no father and a mother who didnât want to be bothered. At an early age she found herself on the streets getting it how she lived to take care of her little sister. When she was younger, she would boost clothes to sell or steal food from the supermarket to make sure they ate at night, but as she got older and discovered the power of her natural gifts, she stepped her game up.
Maggie was a renegade, selling sex to whoever could afford to feed her for the night until she hooked up with a pimp who taught her what the game was really about. He gave Maggie a crash course in Lost 101, forcing her to read dozens of books on the subject and watching countless porno movies. Every night before he put Maggie on the streets he would quiz her on what she had learned for the day. Sometimes he would even make her perform on him, and if she couldnât make him cum with her mouth or pussy in five minutes or less, he would beat her. The art of making a man blow his load quickly would come in very handy for Maggie in the streets. It would not only ensure that she could turn more tricks than the other girls in the course of a night, but her skills became so notorious that men started seeking her out. Everybody wanted a taste of Maggieâs world-famous sex, and she made loads of money for her pimp.
Maggieâs run with her pimp came to an end when he was arrested on a parole violation. He had only been given sixty days in county jail, but it was enough time for Maggie to rob him of everything he had, taking her show on the road. Maggie roamed from place to place, keeping time with unsavory men and numbing herself with drugs. Before she knew it, her looks were slipping and she had developed a drug habit. The young girls with less mileage on them began catching all the big-money tricks, and Maggie had to get in where she fit in, finding her sponsors where she could. She had been cursed to a miserable existence and wouldâve probably taken her own life years ago if it hadnât been for the fact that she needed to be there for her sister. They were all each other had left, until Chucky came into the picture.
The knocking on the door continued. âYou gonna get that or what?â Chucky repeated his initial question.
âWhat were you doing thatâs so important to where you couldnât get it?â Maggie asked with an attitude.
âIâm thinking, thatâs what Iâm doing. Somebody has gotta be the brains of this operation and you sure ainât in no condition to play the role, with as high as you be all the time,â Chucky snapped.
âYou got some nerve coming for me, like you ainât got a never-ending oil burner. You do enough to get you and three other muthafuckas high at one time.â Maggie rolled her neck.
Chucky threw his lighter at her, narrowly missing Maggieâs head. âBitch, donât worry about what Iâm doing. Worry about getting the fucking door!â
Maggie spared him one last roll of her eyes, before uncoiling her long chocolate legs from the couch, and oozing to her feet. The tight green skirt she wore was hiked up, exposing her bare black ass. On her left ass cheek was a tattoo of a weed leaf. Maggie took slow steps toward the door, making sure to throw some extra bounce in her walk, sending a ripple across her ass. She knew Chucky liked to see it move. Maggie had been a dime piece back in her day, and still held together well, but after a few months of running with Chucky, she was starting to slip. Still, Maggie was a looker and a stone-cold freak. She did things to Chucky that heâd be ashamed to admit out loud and that was part of the reason he fucked with her, that and she was blindly loyal to him.
Chucky took a brief hiatus from watching Maggieâs ass, and addressed the small pile of cocaine on the table in
Maggie was a renegade, selling sex to whoever could afford to feed her for the night until she hooked up with a pimp who taught her what the game was really about. He gave Maggie a crash course in Lost 101, forcing her to read dozens of books on the subject and watching countless porno movies. Every night before he put Maggie on the streets he would quiz her on what she had learned for the day. Sometimes he would even make her perform on him, and if she couldnât make him cum with her mouth or pussy in five minutes or less, he would beat her. The art of making a man blow his load quickly would come in very handy for Maggie in the streets. It would not only ensure that she could turn more tricks than the other girls in the course of a night, but her skills became so notorious that men started seeking her out. Everybody wanted a taste of Maggieâs world-famous sex, and she made loads of money for her pimp.
Maggieâs run with her pimp came to an end when he was arrested on a parole violation. He had only been given sixty days in county jail, but it was enough time for Maggie to rob him of everything he had, taking her show on the road. Maggie roamed from place to place, keeping time with unsavory men and numbing herself with drugs. Before she knew it, her looks were slipping and she had developed a drug habit. The young girls with less mileage on them began catching all the big-money tricks, and Maggie had to get in where she fit in, finding her sponsors where she could. She had been cursed to a miserable existence and wouldâve probably taken her own life years ago if it hadnât been for the fact that she needed to be there for her sister. They were all each other had left, until Chucky came into the picture.
The knocking on the door continued. âYou gonna get that or what?â Chucky repeated his initial question.
âWhat were you doing thatâs so important to where you couldnât get it?â Maggie asked with an attitude.
âIâm thinking, thatâs what Iâm doing. Somebody has gotta be the brains of this operation and you sure ainât in no condition to play the role, with as high as you be all the time,â Chucky snapped.
âYou got some nerve coming for me, like you ainât got a never-ending oil burner. You do enough to get you and three other muthafuckas high at one time.â Maggie rolled her neck.
Chucky threw his lighter at her, narrowly missing Maggieâs head. âBitch, donât worry about what Iâm doing. Worry about getting the fucking door!â
Maggie spared him one last roll of her eyes, before uncoiling her long chocolate legs from the couch, and oozing to her feet. The tight green skirt she wore was hiked up, exposing her bare black ass. On her left ass cheek was a tattoo of a weed leaf. Maggie took slow steps toward the door, making sure to throw some extra bounce in her walk, sending a ripple across her ass. She knew Chucky liked to see it move. Maggie had been a dime piece back in her day, and still held together well, but after a few months of running with Chucky, she was starting to slip. Still, Maggie was a looker and a stone-cold freak. She did things to Chucky that heâd be ashamed to admit out loud and that was part of the reason he fucked with her, that and she was blindly loyal to him.
Chucky took a brief hiatus from watching Maggieâs ass, and addressed the small pile of cocaine on the table in
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