Adrian Then Mae

It's dusk and again I'm driving the sketchy, threatening, unkept streets of this city, my city. I know exactly where the neighborhoods change demographics. Further I can find any MLK Boulevard in the United States with little effort. It's not classified information that MLK Boulevards are not located in the upscale parts of town. In unfamiliar territory, that's your first clue as to where you are. And then there's the obvious vacant store front, boarded up houses and busy liquor stores on every other corner. I am drawn to these rough urban patches of hardship in search of women on their nightly walks as if I'm water whirling down a drain.

Venturing into these spaces, as you can imagine, is precarious. And I have had moments that I'd rather not recall. Like the black Lincoln MKX SUV with it's dark tinted window edging down to expose the nicked up barrel of a handgun; a finger on the trigger. It disappeared as nonchalantly as it appeared. I remember the heat that swept through my body and the relentless pounding under my sternum. That brief moment ended my evening. After I escaped peril, I was much more upset that I likely missed out on head from the woman standing nearby, than being shot. That can't be normal.

Short on memory, I navigate my usual routes without concern looking for the strollers or a shapely statue who's purpose is to be approached. It's quite late and there are only a few to choose from. I opt for a dainty brunette that looks seasoned. A 30$ exchange and my cum is all over her pretty face after twenty minutes or more. A ploy of mine is to jerk off before hand so that I last longer. She may get frustrated, but I've paid for her to make me spew; she has to keep at it until I finish.

"Shit, you gotta pop soon baby. I can't be here all night now."

Or not frustrated in the least,

"Damn, you must be a good fuck."

Tonight for an extra ten spot, I've talked my date into letting me take care of myself while she lightly brushed a finger around my asshole encouraging me to spill a second time. With her eyes locked on my rig, and the inspiring sensual sighs, words and phrases perfectly timed, I produced a sequel.

I decide how much money I want to spend beforehand and too how much I am willing to spend. I separate these amounts into different pockets and hide cash in the top of my sock. I split my notes up because I want as much as I can get at the lowest price. I need too budget. Furthermore, knowing not to initially pull out a wad of cash is key to minimizing your chance of getting robbed; some ladies are tremendously skillful at separating you from your money without delivering.

Another night and I'm asking,

"Twenty to suck me off?"

"No hon, you got more? For that I can jerk you, but that's all."

When I am short funds, I would take that offer. I have paid as little as five bucks, but I digress.

I search my pockets then my sock like I am not sure, but of course I magically find another ten, fifteen or twenty. She took my dollars, made a deposit down her crotch, then reached for my cock.

"You're ready. Hard and thick aren't you, I like that. "

"Spit on it first then toss your tongue on me for a while." I said. She looked up at me,

"Serious? Most pricks just want to grab the back of my head and stuff themselves down my throat till I gag on it."

I have a dress code. Loose jeans with boxers, no belt, my zipper down, rivet buttoned, my dick resting out the pee holes so that I can rub on myself while I am driving. In summer it's shorts without boxers one pant leg pulled up and aside. My half hard flesh exposed upfront eases the fears and notion to the girls that I may be a cop. And too, I can quickly wrap things up if I happen to get pulled over.

I once could estimate quite accurately the number of women I have been with, but no longer. Neither can I now estimate how much money I have spent on them. The number is in the hundreds and certainly in the thousands paid. People spend their money on many things; clothing, vacations, dinners, drinking. My disposable income is spent on sex, sex on the streets, in and out calls and not-so-legit massages as well. Still I chase down what I can for gratis. It's just easier to buy what I want.

Always hesitant, after all it is against the law, I crawl along in second gear circling back and back again until I am noticed. And they do notice, it's their job too notice. I prefer to meet off street, for instance a shopping center parking lot is ideal. I rarely stop directly where they stand. I'll rather find a comfortable place and wait for them to come to me. Even better, to follow me inside a corner store or fast food franchise. They all seem to like that I'm cautious. They don't want to take a trip to the downtown precinct either.

I have a preference for women of color. I like to see their brown skin tones contrasting against my rigid, pale branch as their mouths make it vanish between their characteristically plump lips down to my balls. Inner city black women tend to give amazing wet, sloppy blow jobs and don't soon stop after you finish.

"Drool my cum out and lick it off my dick again. uhum like that, again, do it again." Most oblige, few swallow anyway.

*****

Adrian.

My cheating girlfriend of three years. She mercilessly messed with me and I wasn't mature enough to handle it. At least that's what my psychologist said. Adrian, Adrian Farrow was pretty, seductively pretty. Her mother had named her well, perfectly for a career in film, print or on a runway. She got dick whenever she wanted it. I'd guess pussy too. The song 'Domino Dancing' by the Pet Shop Boys would describe her and how I came to view her.

I couldn't stop her indiscretions. And I couldn't simply walk away either. I was a nineteen year old getting drained by a fine wet mouth, ass and tight hole almost everyday. If you also know the lyrics to the song 'Self-esteem' by the band Offspring, that would be me. I looked at her and grew stiff. I knew exactly what the assholes she got on her knees for, bent over for, and spread for, were treated too.

I lived to hurt the woman who's mother held in precious regard. First I slept with her best friend from high school who was black and had a history of seducing her closest friend's men anyway. Then I regularly nailed her roommate Julie who knew what the issues were and gladly helped me out since she had witnessed, on many occasions, Adrian jumping on a cock other than mine or headed to the bathroom wiping cum from her face.

By chance Julie's father was a lingerie distributor. Not only did she dress to get a quick rise out of me, but too she trimmed or completely shaved her mons which wasn't that common back then. I spent afternoons and nights going down on her. Her pretty labia bare for me to devour. When Adrian found out it stung her bad and I was more than pleased. My fascination with Julie's shaved pussy bothered her and actually caused her to express jealousy.

"Why do you like that? Where did you see it? In a magazine? I know she shaves down there. Damn you."

Adrian would never admit that she did other guys while we were a couple. Rather she insisted she didn't.

"We were broke up at the time."

In her mind that was often. We argued endlessly and she was masterful at turning every word around so that I was always made to be wrong.

"You're smothering and insecure." Quietly I'd say to myself, no you're a little whore.

I'd threaten to leave her numerous times and often, but she knew how to keep me near. Her favorite act was to pull up her skirt, squat, play with her clit then finger herself. She'd hesitate just long enough to tease me further then lick her juices from long, thin piano player fingers. My hand would wrap itself around my cock then in an alluring Kathleen Turner voice, she speaks,

"Go ahead stroke yourself for me then come here and fuck my mouth. I'm your dirty little slut, aren't I. I like being your dirty little slut."

Pleased to pound the back of her throat, which she couldn't get enough of, pissed me off too. Soon I reasoned that to keep up with her number of partners, I was left to pay for sex. It was evident that I wouldn't get it as easily and often as she did.

I eventually came to know that my retaliation didn't hurt Adrian in the least, but much too late. Into my mid- thirties, early forties and I am still cheating on her. I am held captive to my ways, I can't stop buying women.

A relationship is impossible. I compare every woman I've been with, actually dated, to Adrian and I haven't found one who could get me hard on site and then off like she could. I figure I won't and I am a servant to avoidance to make sure I never will. I occasionally find a regular thing without paying, but it's usually a call girl that has taken a liking to me.

*****

Mae.

It was a tuesday night and I wanted company. The chance of that on a week night is small, but always worth a try. She walked with her eyes focused on the broken sidewalk where weeds persistently grew through the cracks. She sensed me and glanced up. I locked my eyes on her, slowed and turned into the nearby Seven Eleven. I went inside. Thinking that I wouldn't have to drive home disappointed, I pretended to view the chip isle. She came to stand next to me and we left together with a bag of Doritos and no one thought anything of it.

I opened the passenger door for her and made certain her long coat didn't get caught in the door when it closed.

"A gentleman."

After a comfortable moment of silence, I asked.

"Do you have somewhere you'd like to go?"

She didn't respond immediately.

"Your neighborhood. I know you don't live around here."

She stared out through the passenger side window watching the city blocks go by. She wasn't in a rush to deal which was unusual. These women usually want to get to it then move on to their next customer quickly. I was getting uneasy, but I was getting stiff with anticipation too. She looked down at my crotch, her fingers at her blouse unfastening a button or two. I commented,

"Not enough women wear blouses anymore."

"You're looking for a girl like me, right? I see your dick out. I could get you off now, but I'm in the mood to be with just one guy tonight." she paused.

"Do you have time for that? You know like a couple. Do you want to visit with me, go out with me? Or do you have a wife to get home too, a girlfriend?"

"I have time and yes I'd like that." I put my dick back in my pants.

She brushed away a lock of blond, very blond hair from her face.

"Nice, then I want to stop at Target. I am not properly dressed."

I thought, I've never been with a blond, not a natural blond. I was certain she was. Her brows were the same shade as her mane. I hoped that I would find that to be so between her legs.

"I'm Mae, what's your name?"

"Sam."

My neighborhood was just ahead and we arrived at Target after driving about two miles more. She led me straight to woman's clothing. She browsed through the casual dresses pushing most of them aside. I watched in silence admiring her shape and features which I hadn't been able to make out clearly in the car.

"I want to find something that makes me feel and look pretty. I want my man to desire me, and for him to be proud to be seen with me."

She chose a dark blue cotton dress with a high collar that buttoned down the front. It ended just below her calves. I couldn't have agreed more that she'd made the right choice. She went through the check-out and completed her purchase. I was surprised that she didn't ask or expect me to pay. I offered, but she turned me down.

"I don't want you paying my way all the time, or buying me too many things."

She was quite the little play-actress.

Mae excused herself, entered the ladies room then emerged in her new dress and the worn black lace up boots she came with. She stopped, made a half turn and looked for my approval. I winked. We left the store her arm wrapped thru mine.

I drove to my favorite coffee house, opened the door for her, took her hand and we went inside. Her hand was silky and warm. I imagined it holding my cock instead.

She ordered a hot herb tea. I had coffee, black. We shared a veggie sandwich and a slice of cheese cake. Mae told me about her life and how she came to be where she was. Mae expressed herself well. She was obviously smart. She talked of her family graciously, but said that she was disconnected from them and had been for quite awhile. One younger brother and an older sister. Her parents had divorced when she was 11. I told her that I had a similar family story, but there were many more of us, two brothers who were twins, not identical, and two younger sisters. She continued,

"I have a degree in psych, but I really needed to get my masters, I didn't. I can't see going back."

I sensed that Mae hadn't been listened too in years because she barely took a breath while she spoke. I believe she was trying to communicate without plainly saying so, that she was starving for attention. She radiated depression. I know depression, my own.

"I don't have many friends and the few I do live elsewhere."

That, I told her, was the same for me and too, I spent a lot of time alone. I didn't mention that I avoided people in general.

It seemed the only difference between the two of us was that I had a job and a bank account. That though, was nothing more than a guess. Not all the conversation was somber. We laughed, made up stories about the people we saw drinking coffees, and commented on the art that hung on the walls. I found her to be playful with a great sense of humor, dry like mine. She was easy company.

"I'm ready to go. Lets go home. And thanks for playing along. The whole couples night out thing I mean."

A brief return to truth.

Mae stepped through the front door, found the light switch and turned it on like it was her home. She took off her coat and placed it on the kitchen table, turned, wrapped her arms loosely around my neck and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Hi you, you taste good."

She led me by the wrists, facing me, her walking backwards to the bedroom which she located easily.

"I want you in me."

She sat on the bed's edge, undid my jeans and let them fall freely to my ankles. She reached inside my boxers while staring into my eyes and biting down on her lower lip, hard. It entered my mind right then that I had grown hard earlier just being in her presence, but I dismissed it.

Mae's mouth melted over me like butter on bread that came right out of the oven. She'd bring me to near release then stop. I hadn't received such oral pleasure since Adrian's lips slid on me. I gently moved Mae away and on to her back atop a soft gray comforter. I started to gradually, methodically, unbutton her dress. Her breasts were firm and larger than I had reasoned. Her cleavage looked to be plenty to fuck. I kissed each nipple till they perked up and her skin was covered with tiny bumps.

Mae arched up towards me when my wet mouth found her pussy lips that remained covered in cotton. I moved her white panties aside and my tongue grazed her labia then her inflamed button. Her trimmed blonde pubic hair was a gift which caused my cock to involuntarily pulse up and down several times. The wetness that now flowed freely from her found it's way down her slit and settled in her puckered hole that looked like a secured drawstring bag. My tongue circled then pushed on threw and unlike the assholes I couldn't stomach from Adrian's past, I had a taste for Mae.

"There, stay there, I'm ready to cum."

The dim light in the room made the view from my vantage point spectacular. Mae's legs spread for me, her dress hiked up, her boots accenting her smooth thighs and thin ankles. I have my true blonde. I entered her completely since she was pleading with me not to tease her anymore. Bent at the waist her eyes wide she watched me move in and out of her. Mae held on to my hips to make certain that my whole length penetrated her.

"Wet me inside."

My orgasm meshed with hers and the convulsions my being experienced didn't end until I came again. I pulled out of her and we both watched as our cum emerged from her hole and gradually fell to the covers. What remained reminded me of sweet white icing on a warm succulent pastry. I had to taste us. I gathered up what was left clinging to her pink flesh. Mae provocatively dined off my fingers then I kissed her tasting our sex.

We woke to the sun pushing thru the blinds. Mae spoke in a whisper,

"Can you take me to where you found me?"

When I saw her on the street two weeks later, it could have been three? Mae opened the car door and said,

"I've been waiting for you."

On sight, her scent circling me, I was stiff. I had to reposition my cock so that it no longer hurt cramped inside my denim. We spent the night fucking. I picked her up for dinner two days later, instant hard-on. And every time after. I couldn't dismiss these spontaneous erections as I had the night we met. They where so often that I started to point them out to her.

"Here, now, at the grocery?"

I took her hand and put it to my crotch whispering in her ear,

"Feel what you do to me?"

Bye Adrian.

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