"I did have one adventure, of sorts. I'd rented an apartment from a single woman, who needed extra income as much as she needed a guy to be around at night. Pat, red-haired, tall, slim and athletic, with high-placed natural boobs and lovely long, toned legs, worked as a stripper and exotic dancer. Her boobs were real wide at the base, and had a ski-slope to her nipples, so she could carry a pair of 34-D's without sagging."
"Unlike a lot of other strippers, dancers and ho's, she saved her money and tips, and bought and then fixed-up the small six-unit apartment building she bought. She already had four other tenants plus me. She was gone most late afternoons to the wee-hours, especially weekends and she slept days. I think she needed someone to watch her place in the late afternoon and evening, though."
"Anyway, the apartment I got was actually just one big room, with walled-off spaces for a little kitchen and bathroom. At the back was a laundry area, and I had use of the washer & dryer. The living area was large, uncluttered ... and had a stripper's heavy brass pole, solidly-mounted to floor and ceiling, in the center."
"Pat matter-of-factly said that this was where she practiced, in the early evenings and on Mondays and Tuesdays, during the day, when she was 'off'. She said that this had to be part of the rental deal, and would I mind if she danced and practiced her moves in what was to be my living area. I thought about secret cameras and such (just thought, dammit), grinned and said, 'Yes'. For the first month, the only thing I had to remind me of her presence in my space was a lingering odor of light perfume and sweating female body. I jerked off a lot."
"After a couple of months, one Monday, I came home from a long day at the lot, after taking care of my small-bills cash in the storage room. Hearing music, I went in to my big room, and found my landlady, Pat, spinning around her pole and doing exotic dance moves, dressed only in a mini-bra and thin thong panties. I made to turn around and leave, and Pat gestured, 'No, please stay.' Then, she said, 'Pull up a chair and be my audience.' I got treated to a full program of exotic dance, plus a slow, erotic strip."
"Pat kept having me move my chair closer and closer to her dancing form, as her bra and then panties were thrown across the room. Finally close enough to touch, her thighs and vagina opened wide. Which I did. She danced nude for a while, working the pole like a long brass cock. She kept telling me to pull my hard pud in my pants, and finally to pull it out. Finally, I reached for her and she spun around, released the pole, and in one smooth, coordinated motion, went to her knees and sucked my cock into her mouth. A few minutes of oral sex later, she just inserted her nude and sweaty body onto my cock and got her arms around me. Then we made long, slow love, to the rest of the music on the practice CD."
"Pat was the only other woman I've met, besides a certain tiny Korean nympho hottie-slut, who treated penetrative sex like the pleasure it was. Normal, natural, easy-going sex. No hysteria, no 'rules', no 'goddesses,' no 'saving it', no linking sex with money, pain, humiliation or personal power, no domination or 'making points'."
"For her, sex was fun and pleasure was good for her. She loved her body, and liked what she could do to get maximum lust out of a male audience, and deep fucking out of a lover. Pat was a natural exhibitionist for her dancing and stripping in front of an audience, but she'd had only a handful of lovers, both men and women."
"She just loved to watch her lover's cock shaft slowly gliding in and out of her body, face-to-face but sitting up, and in watching her lover's face as the pleasure mounted to orgasm and squirting jism into her. Her own orgasms were brief, but real and intense, and she had several per night or morning."
"Just like my Korean hottie, she liked to stay naked, before or after sex, and posed/teased me with her posturing, until she had to go out in public. She didn't like panties or bra, and only put them on when she absolutely had to."
"Her attitude toward male semen inside her was relaxed, too, just like my hottie's. She liked to have herself watched, and to watch herself, as both liquids drained out of her body and ran down her ass or leg. As she said, 'the shower or garden hose was only a few steps away, so why not watch what my lover put in me'."
"That's about all I'm gonna say about Pat. We were daily lovers until she started dating an airline pilot. Then she sold the apartment building, married him and moved away. I saw her once more, years later."
Boh was laughing, literally rolling on the floor, laughing her Asian ass off. Between bouts of merriment, she asked, "I love her already. I wanna meet your Pat, some day. See her dance. Play with her. Watch you fuck us both."
"How much money you make, from total parking scam?"
So I grinned, and said, "I was still 'in business' after a year. Do the math, pretty girl. Twelve months at about the same rate, with only a few days off, was $384,000. This was back in 1976, and back then, that was a lot of money. Particularly for a homeless young guy without any skills or 'visible means of support'."
"The next year was the same and so was the year after. Then, after cruising around the city and the beaches, looking at other parking lots, I had to raise prices to keep from drawing 'unwanted attention' by being too cheap, so the fees went up to CARS $8 and MOTORCYCLES $3. Bicycles were still free, and I'd installed a long bike rack for them. So you figure $645,000 a year. Eventually, I had to charge CARS $10 and MOTORCYCLES $5, which gave me $806,400."
"Overall, in 15 years, I'd made over $9 million, and saved about 80% of it, investing most of that, after taxes. I'd paid income taxes on a part of it, as income from my 'vending operation', so I was right with the Feds and the State."
I didn't have a wife and didn't want kids. I'd had some girlfriends, sure. There was Vicki, Pat, a Latina woman named Lupe and the near-insatiable Midge. A few other dates that didn't pan out. Never anybody I wanted to spend the rest of my life married to ... although Pat came close."
"But, by the time I was 40 years old, I was bored to tears with the whole Parking Lot scam idea."
"So, one Friday night, I cleaned out the safe and left it tilted down; unbolted the ticket machine, putting it in my little van. Then I just left the gate open and drove away. There weren't any fingerprints I'd left behind. I burned the magnetic signs, the mustache, wig, the old, green coveralls and the rubber nose thing; had the van crushed for scrap metal (with the ticket machine in it), out in the county & got a bus back to town; gave up and paid off the storage area; closed out my savings and checking account; left the investments in place, under my real name ... and took off for a month on my new motor-scooter. Coming back, I changed banks and bought this place in a foreclosure sale, had it fixed up and re-modeled and moved in to be early retired."
Pat showed up after a couple of months, and helped me out with some of the re-modeling. We had loving sex every day, and she danced for me every chance we got. So, pretty girl, that's why there is a stripper pole in the center of the living room. And that's why Pat, now fifteen-years older at 38, was still packing the strip-clubs and titty bars with customers, when she wasn't swinging and fucking with her husband and his male friends, around the world.
A year later, here I am, living with a tiny Korean hottie nympho-mathematician-sex-slut and loving it. I've proposed and now I'm trying to fill up five liter-capacity bottles with jism-fresh-from-the-tap, before I can ask her to marry me again."
"A few days after I left," I said, "someone noticed that the 'old guy' wasn't there, and called up the city to get a replacement. The city denied having anybody on staff like that, or even owning a parking lot there. The city folks called the Naval Electronics Laboratory, who called the Feds, and they denied having ever agreed to put a parking lot on their property, or having a deaf/blind old employee. It went back and forth, with Fed and city inspectors and auditors playing Cover-Your-Ass."
"Then suddenly, the rusty chain-link fence and the 'booth' came down. The safe vanished. The Laboratory waste space was opened up to hiking trails and beach access, and the parking lot was made free to anyone."
The City of San Diego denied that anything had EVER happened, and so did the Lab and the Fed, and they both buried the story really deep."
"No one ever found out who the old guy was, even though they could describe him as a really nice person, very helpful, stooped-over, with gray hair and mustache. Obviously mostly blind, deaf ... and particularly described by everyone as having a bright red sore on his nose."
My nympho hottie Boh must have laughed for the next three days, straight, when she wasn't studying mathematics or we weren't making crazy, noisy hot love. 209 more cums left.
A few months later, after I told my parking-lot story, I'd just emerged from a sexual fuzz, and happily listened to my Asian girlfriend sputter and gasp around a face-full of my chest hair. She was 4' 9" tall and weighted all of 90 lbs., while I was 6' 4" and weighed a good 260 lbs. So, every time I descended and penetrated into her, while she was on her back, she complained-loudly-that she couldn't breathe. Of course, she only complained loudly after we screwed, 'cause she was far too busy having multiple orgasms while I was thrusting inside her.
Resting up after these exercises, while Boh slept, I thought that there had to be a way that I could screw her face-forward, but not be balanced over her. Besides, I wanted to look down at my tiny Asian nympho hottie while I did her.
Idly, as I was musing and flipping through a catalog of tools and stuff (toys-for-big-boys), I looked up at the Sky Chair I had mounted to the ceiling of the living room, just in front of the stripper pole ... back before I met Boh. Suddenly, I added 2 + 2 and came out with a 5, when I remembered the words I heard on a dirty-song website:
MY HUSBAND PUT A WINCH INSIDE THE BEDROOM
My husband put a winch inside the bedroom.
He powered it with juice from in the wall
Upon a canvas chair,
He suspends me in the air,
And has his way with me, a-standin' there.
He calls me his wench inside the bedroom,
While I'm shackled hand and thigh, an' swingin free.
He adjusts me up an' down,
An' so has all his fun;
I've become a winch-sexed wench up off the floor.
Last week, the winch got jammed and broken,
