New in town, lanky Ambrose McWhite, noticeable with his crossed-cropped dyed-white hair, knew no one and feeling horny decided to find a woman. Easier said that done. The ones hovering in alleys looked bored and hard-faced and he soon learned from the indignant rejections the ones he approached smoking on the street were office workers from the smoke-free buildings they were leaning against.
Ambrose walked on, frustrated, his balls aching from excessive tension and growing pressure to release. Almost ready to hail a cab to be taken to a brothel he spotted a notice across the street, Sex Clinic. Ambrose didn't know the difference between a clinic and a brothel so scooted over, tongue almost hanging out, to investigate.
"Oh no," explained the fifty-something receptionist, unsuccessfully attempting to smother her horrified reaction with a smile. "We are a service provider for clients with problems relating to sexual performance for perhaps they are mentally sexually dysfunctional.
'Dysfunctional' was a big new word for Ambrose so red-faced he ignored asking what the word meant and said he had a sexual problem: he wasn't getting enough and often enough.
"Begone you jerk or I'll call security."
Ambrose swallowed, thinking he was glad the old bag wasn't swallowing him, and bewent -- he wasn't sure that was the right word for it -- and winked at the 30-something blonde with big tits reading the wall notice advertising breast reduction surgery. The blonde looked at him coldly so he warmed her face by saying, "nice pair." At that she licked her lips and the moment was ruined by the hag behind the counter screaming, "Leave our client alone, asshole."
Ambrose turned and gave the hag the customary upturned one-finger salute and 'bewented' quickly because her decaying plump finger had hit the panic button. He'd only progressed a few yards down the sidewalk when a whiff of pussy juice one smells whenever a woman is close by and fast clicking heels caught up with him. He turned to see who was the donor of such odor into the otherwise polluted atmosphere of the city and said it was Blondie.
"Oh hello again." he smiled, bracing himself, expecting a crack across the teeth and to have his balls kneed.
Instead of assaulting him Blondie asked, "Are you clean?"
"Yes, had a shower a couple of days ago."
Blondie laughed and said he was funny. "Coffee?"
"I've had two today?"
Blondie laughed again, said he was cute, and led him across the road to a coffee shop. She looked surprised when he sat down and so she went to the counter and placed their order although having no idea of his preference.
She was tall for her age, Ambrose thought, and too young to be wearing panties so perhaps he was on to something here.
"I'm wondering if we have a mutual interest?" Blondie asked vaguely as she sat, hitching her skirt even farther up her thighs and fluttering her eyelids.
"Coffee?"
She laughed and said yes that too and introduced herself as Blondie Jones.
"That can't be your real name?"
She agreed, parting her thick red lips to reveal clean white teeth and a tongue tip. Blondie asked what name he was using.
"Ambrose McWhite."
She laughed and said. "Cute, good choice."
They fell silent.
The toe of her red shoe touched Ambrose just above an ankle and rubbed up and down a bit. He moved his chair well back; aware his proximity had not left enough room for her to move her foot.
"Would you like to fuck me?"
Ambrose looked suspicious. "Why?"
That seemed to confuse Blondie and she confused him by saying, "I've learned that my husband is playing around and as a result I'm in despair and have lost my libido."
Assuming those statements were not connected, Ambrose asked: "Have you tried the dog pound?"
Blondie looked at him wide-eyed and asked was he suggested the cure was animal sex?
"No, I mean to look for your lost dog."
Blondie said, "Excuse me?"
"Blondes often have a dog although I thought French poodles were more common than libidos. Are they also an European breed?"
Looking at Blondie's tits wobble as she laughed Ambrose heard her ask, "Have you a decent-sized dick to offset the lack of gray matter?"
"What I shoot is always white."
"Ohmigod, a guy with genuine humor," Blondie marveled. "How extremely rare. Come, I'll book us into a hotel. I'd like to find out if you are capable of rekindling my interest in sex."
In the cheap room Ambrose was out of his clothes in seconds, he and his cock standing at attention. Blondie sighed, realizing she was expected to undress herself.
Thelma Kennedy, wife of the city's mayor, had chosen a sleazy hotel realizing no one in that part of town would recognize her. Her mouth watered when she saw Ambrose was hung like guys in porn magazines. As she walked past Ambrose grabbed her and threw her across the bed.
"Ambrose!" Blondie yelped. "What are you doing?"
"Sticking it up your ass. You said you wanted to be fucked."
