On the Bloc

Chapter 3: On the Run

Originally titled "Whoring Night, Chapter 3"

Rewritten and edited by La Pantera Bonita

We decided to make it a quick and dirty night. Dave and I were both tired, but since we had conflicting work schedules, this would the only time we could go out for quite a while. We made our first stop at the JEWEL BOX, a cheap sleazy watering hole. As we strutted in, we saw all the girls crowded around one man. Shit! It was Rick Dempsey and his entourage. The O's were off this Thursday. I didn't recognize the guys with him. They must have been homies from Red Lion, Pa. They certainly weren't ball players.

Dave whispered to me, "I don't think we're going to do so well with fuckin' Rick Dempsey in here."

"Let's just whip their ass and take their women." I said rather loudly.

The guys at the bar looked up. I smiled, turned and walked out with Dave.

"Dave, didn't you say you wanted to go to the OASIS and not the JEWEL BOX?" I asked mockingly.

"I believe I did", Dave nodded in agreement.

The OASIS was recently taken over by the owner of CRYSTALS. He moved a bunch of his girls to this new location. The OASIS was a favorite watering hole for CIA agents during the cold war. While they trained in Virginia, they would have to go to Baltimore to learn how to tail people, and how to lose a tail. While in the town, they would stop by for a few beers and a blowjob. We walked in and the place was in turmoil. The girls were running around all over the place, whining and bitching-more than their usual whine and bitch.

"The fuckin' cops just busted the Villa Nova. They put a fuckin' padlock on the door!" the girls were screaming.

This always happens during an election year. The cops come in, make a few busts, then business as usual after the election. Every now and then a uniformed cop will make a cameo appearance in an establishment and take a quick look around. At that point, you have to show the man some respect and pull your finger out of the girl. It's not too hard to do.

During these times of grave crisis, only regulars are allowed in the backrooms. They don't want to take any chances getting busted. Since Dave and I were regulars, that is Regulars with a capital "R,” we were golden. We sat toward the back away from the door, near the stairs to the backrooms. Dave was soon talking to Diane and I was talking to Big Cindy.

Diane was not appealing to me. She had the typical whore look. She was midsize, nice tits, not overly large, nice legs and ass, but nothing to write home about. She had a non-descript face, not ugly, just featureless. I peered back at Dave- he was busy feeling up her tits and pussy at the bar.

I often sat and talked to Big Cindy and I used to fuck her cousin Teresa all the time. (Teresa was introduced in chapter 2.) Cindy was a very intelligent and kindhearted person, although dead cold serious about business. She would bar tend when she wasn't hustling drinks. She typically worked double shifts and was easily taking home 2Gs a week. I once told her, "If I ever bought a bar down here, you would be its manager. And you wouldn't have to fuck me too much for the position."

Big Cindy was a tall Swede. She looked like an older version (early 30's) of the Coors's Swedish Bikini Team. She stood well over 6 feet tall and wore high spiked heels; long straight strawberry blond hair-actually more blond than strawberry; freckles on the shoulders and neck, but not face; her teeth were recently bleached and pearly white; nice large breasts with the firmness of a teenager; and legs-long shapely legs with muscle tone. She was a goddess. I have never slipped her the salami or even felt her up at the bar. The closest thing we did that might be "sexual" was when she would grind her spike heel into me. She had on a cute little Santa's elf outfit with matching red and white hat and very short skirt. She had on a matching undergarment, which I could see when she propped her leg up on my barstool. I gently caressed her calf, up to the knee, but preceded no further, gazing at the bright red panty shot.

Dave tapped me on the shoulder, "Hey Mikey-Fucker, got any of that funny paper? I need some for me and Diane here."

Now, he really didn't need to give Diane any funny paper. He just wanted to look like he had a supplier. I tried very hard to get the nickname "The Acid King" a take-off of the Acid Queen from "Tommy." My nickname ended up as the more diminutive "paper boy." Such is life. I opened up my poison ring and let him have a few hits.

I turned back to Cindy and said, "Business."

She knew exactly what I meant. While she didn't do drugs, everyone around her did. [KIDS DON'T DO DRUGS AND STAY IN SCHOOL –that is still the best placed to get laid.]

Dave was arranging to buy a bottle and go downstairs when Cindy said, "Are you going to buy me a bottle too?"

It took a moment for the shock to wear off. I have never seen Cindy go in the backroom with a client before. I didn't think she did that, so I never asked her to do so. I moved my chair a little closer to her, placing her knee high up against her chest, opening her legs up a bit more. She was nearly trapped. I eased my hand up her leg and began to rub the soft furry Santa's material covering her ho ho ho. She took that as a "yes."

I don't know why she never asked me sooner. Cindy was choosy with whom she fucked for money. There is a whore hierarchy on the Block. The top level has girls like Cindy. They chose their partners and only White guys. The second level are those who fuck only White guys, but will fuck any White guy. The bottom level is what they call "nigger pussy." They will fuck anyone and typically Black men looking for White women. There is a level lower than that; the girls who are out in the street and can't even fuck their way into a job as a whore working a bar. They hang out at the Mid-Way bar, a non-strip joint. I used to fuck a girl named Terry. Cindy knew this because she would sell me the bottles. Cindy let me know Terry was "nigger pussy." I hadn't fuck Terry in a while- not because I am prejudice, but because I simply never saw her again. Apparently the statute of limitations has run out and my dick was now white enough for Big Cindy. More than likely she simply forgot. Who am I to remind her?

Feeling her up at the bar made me incredibly hot. This was like fucking that unattainable High School prom queen or cheerleader. Yes, I was ready. Lead me to the lions!

We went downstairs. The theme from "Rocky" was running through my head. I felt like a winner. As Cindy was walking in front of me, I would occasionally raise my hands above my head as if I just won the heavyweight championship of the world or walked to the top of a long flight of stairs and was not out of breath. . She did a quick turn around while I was doing this, and I readily placed my hand on my head as if I was scratching. She just shook her head.

We went into the first door. It was a fairly nice clean room with a large mirror on the wall. I was betting it was a two way. I thought if someone wanted to see my fat ass fucking, more power to them. We both undressed simultaneously. Cindy was naked except for a black corset which girt her about the paps. She was true goddess material.

She lay down and asked me to get on board. She didn't require me to wear a rubber. I looked to the mirror and raised my eyebrows doing my best John Belushi out take from "Animal House," the part when he is on the ladder at the girl's dorm being a peeping Tom. I was ready for supper. Cindy let me know she didn't give head, but I would make that sacrifice for now.

She lay there on the bed as I parted her legs and worked my way up to her soft beautiful snatch. As I was giving her a good tongue-lashing I would peer up and admire her breasts standing firmly- pointing straight up. The black corset took years off of her. I was looking at some of the larger freckles on her shoulders. I glanced downward. My God! She had freckles on her pussy! If these things start moving- I'm out of here!

I licked her clit sideways, vertical, I went into the sump, came out of the sump and I could count the times she moved on one hand. It reminded me of the old marriage days. I was determined to get her excited. I was remembering someone told me to get a woman excited, write out the alphabet with your tongue across the clit.

I tried upper case letters, lower case letters, Hebrew alphabet, Greek alphabet upper and lower case. I thought I detected a move when I hit the upper case sigma, but she was just lifting her butt to scratch. I started working on old Akkadian hieroglyphs when I heard my ex-wife's voice in my head haunting me, "There is no place for dead languages in the bedroom." Damn, she was right again. I was beginning to hate her. Then I realized the problem. It wasn't my tongue-manship, it was the corset. The tightness of the corset was inhibiting the blood flow through her common iliac artery. No wonder she could not get excited. Oh well, too bad for her.

I lay on top of her and placed all of my 5.3inches inside of her. She could take it all. I was pumping away; she was tight because my spit is not the world's best lubricant. Normally in the missionary position I become a gentleman and place half my weight on my elbows. Not tonight. Cindy was a big girl who could support my weight. That didn't help either; I needed a plan to get off. I'm not saying she was bored, but when she started to look at her watch and reach for her cigarettes, I had to change tactics

"All right" I said. "Let's go use the chair."

It was a regular hardback kitchen chair sitting next to the wall. I sat in the chair and Big Cindy sat on top of me sliding my cock into her tight hole. Next to the wall, I could hear Dave and Diane in the other room.

"Jesus yes! Fuck me Dave! Fuck me!" There was the sound of a million moans of ecstasy, furniture being knocked over; the sound of glass breaking; a bed crashing. I thought for a moment that I heard a Titan missile being launched.

I bounced Cindy up and down on my cock. Her tits were firm and didn't jiggle much. I held on to them for insurance reasons. I imagined one of them poking me in the eye and causing me to go blind. I could just hear the claims adjuster saying, "We're not going to pay, it's your own fault. You should have held on to those things if they were that close to your eyes."

Believe me I was getting no pleasure out of kneading her titties, all lifted up and presented before me, as if on a platter. Sucking on the right nipple (as if there was a wrong one); running my tongue between her breasts; then sucking on the left one. While I sucked one tit, I cupped my hand over her other breast, with my palm rubbing the nipple as my fingers squeezed the side. Nope, no pleasure whatsoever. This was all for safety purposes. I was making another unsung sacrifice.

Then I came. She smiled at me. It was eerie. It was that proud smile a mother gives a son. I wonder what she was thinking this whole time. She got off of me, cleaned herself up, and we headed out.

Back upstairs Cindy had to dance. Dave and Diane were playing suck-face. We soon left and were headed back when Dave pops out, "Hey, How did it go?"

"I was in the room next to you Dave." I replied hesitantly.

"Really?!? I didn't hear anything."

"Well Dave, that's because Cindy is a real cock monster. She loves to suck cock. She is also a ball licker, likes to use ice cubes and stick her tongue up your ass. In addition to all this, you wear no rubber. You didn't hear anything because she puts so much into her mouth, there is no room for slurping sounds. You really need to try one of her blowjobs sometime." At least I didn't totally lie to him. I didn't wear a rubber.

Dave looked at a bit surprised and proceeded to tell me about his time with Diane, which included a standing 69, hanging from a chandelier, a troupe of circus midgets and a pony. He said he is going to come down later, and take her back to Pennsylvania with him. He wanted bad to fuck her without a rubber. She was going to get an AIDS test for him.

At this point I couldn't tell Dave that the AIDS test couldn't test for low levels of HIV that she could have gotten a year ago nor did I mention all the guys she would blow in the interim. I just winked, gave him the okay sign and said, "Good idea." I looked heavenward to see if God was going to strike me down for that. Hmm. Another no-show.

We decided to make one last stop at the FLAMINGO bar before we left. It was situated right across from the police station, next to a pawnshop. Neither one of us had ever been in this bar before. Considering the recent events, I doubted if the girls would approach us with backroom action.

Before we could even be seated I was greeted by a young lady wearing only a white bra and panties. She was about a head shorter than myself; short dark stringy hair, she had a pig-nose which looked like someone used a hole punch on the left nostril and removed a small piece. She was slightly overweight, a little beyond that cute "fuck-puppy" stage, but do-able. She literally ran up to me, placed her arms around my waist and proceeded to but a lip lock on me. As I was scratching her tonsils with my tongue I was carefully comparing the softness of fabric in her bra that covered her right breast with the softness of the fabric of her panties which covered her left buttock. The bra fabric was very soft and soon a nipple was pointed through it to greet my testing hand. The panty fabric seemed normal, so I slipped a finger under the buttock to her pussy to see if the consistency was the same throughout. When I came up for air the bartender was right there with a drink.

"Care to buy Mary a drink?" he asked as if this was the norm.

"Sure thing" I replied

Seems Mary hadn't had anyone buy her a bottle in over a week. She was desperate for money, so the girls agreed the next guy (that was me) who came through the door was hers. I was examining her cleavage and feeling her bra as she explained her personal problems. Seems she has a three-year-old son who goes out on the balcony of her apartment. He boyfriend keeps beating the kid for it. She thought this was okay as the boy needed to stay inside, apparently looking to me for some kind of approval. She kind of caught me a bit off guard as I almost had the fabric blend down pat, 50% cotton, 30% rayon…, just a few more rubs…

I didn't catch how high up the balcony was or if it was enclosed. I didn't dare ask. I explained that children that age are naturally curious and really don't understand too well, that perhaps she should invest in some kind small child fence to keep the kid inside, if they wanted to leave the door open. It seemed simple enough. Let’s see 10% acetate.

She got out of her chair and hugged me like I just solved a major problem. It was time to check out the elasticity of the panty fabric. As we were once again sucking each other faces off I reached down and slid my hand into the elastic portion of her panties resting my fingers on her pussy lips, moving my hand around, just to see how well the elastic stretches. Damn good panties.

"You shop at Sears" I blurted out.

“Why yes I do," she responded with a puzzled look on her face.

I had become rock hard. She had unzipped my pants at the bar and was checking out my all cotton John Haines briefs with her hand grasping on what seemed to now be 5.4 inches. It was bottle time.

We headed to the back room, which was not enclosed. It wasn't visible from the bar, but all one had to do was walk around the corner and there we would be in all our nakedness. Being right across from the police station didn't help much. I was standing by the couch removing my rings, and shirt, when Mary went to her knees and undid my trousers. With my pants at my ankles, I watched her suck my cock. I came quickly into her mouth before I could step out of my pants. I was a little sheepish.

She swallowed my cum. Squeezed my dick, for one last pearl and wiped it on her lips. A swallower and a painter. She then asked, "Do you eat pussy?"

"Yours I do" I responded.

She said "good" and lay down and spread her legs. I tried to explain to her I was done, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. I started with Akkadian hieroglyphs this time, fuck the English alphabet. My tongue went back and forth over her pussy. Her tits were out of her bra and resting on her torso. I tried not to look at her face, but I was strangely drawn to it. She kept changing expressions, biting her lip, and screaming. The bartender came back twice to see if she was okay, apparently we were being heard at the bar over the music. I gave him a couple of Jacksons from my pants on the floor and told him to go watch the bar for the next half-hour. When I hit the water symbol hieroglyph, I felt a big onrush across my face. She had cum big time. I thought at first she was urinating on me because of the amount of liquid. I didn't stop. I kept right on eating her out. She grabbed hold of my head and squeezed it. Her hips started to move away from me then back toward me. My tongue stayed with her. I felt I was riding the bull at GILLEY's. She then pushed my head away as she gushed a second or maybe third time. She was panting heavy and ready for a breather. She sat up and held her arm out as to hold me back.

Damn if little Mickey hadn't rose from the dead. I placed her back down on the couch and mounted her in a missionary position. Her pussy was extremely wet. I could have fit 10 little Mickeys in the damn thing. I reached with both hands and forcefully grabbed both ass checks. I started to ram it home. I didn't feel much of her pussy as I was going in and out due to the excessive amount of lubrication. My face was up against her pig-nose. I had to close my eyes and pretend I was fucking Big Cindy. It didn't take long at that pace to cum. It wasn't a great load, but enough to make her all wet again.

I was really dog-tired now. Mary was not only sweaty, but was wet all over her bush. She had pussy cum all down her legs to her knees. She said, "I can't go out like this."

"Why not." I said. "You look just fine."

"The girls will make fun of me and call me a slut for cumming, " she explained and added, " Could you please get me some paper towels from the men's room and sneak back here?"

"Sure" I said. " No problem. Anything for my Mary." She smiled back at me.

I went out placed my beer on the bar and said to Dave, "Ready to go?" without mentioning any of the preceding events

"Fuckin' A, Let's do it," Dave replied with glassy beer filled eyes.

I didn't even bother to shout a "goodbye Mary" as we left the bar. I knew God had taken the night off.