                       Horny Out of my Mind
                         An Erotic Story

     I can't believe I did that.  I mean I'm 18 years old, and 
should know better.  I guess my hormones just took over, and my 
mind just went on vacation.  I mean I don't even DRINK, for 
crise-sake!
     What was I even DOING in a stripper-bar, where the guys just 
come in to ogle women?  Curiosity?  C'mon now. . . I'm a woman 
myself, and I certainly know what a woman's body looks like.  
Besides, if I wanted to see nude women, I could always go down to 
the 'Y' and see plenty of other girls in the steam room.  I mean 
hardly any of the girls wore clothes in there.
     I must have WANTED to be picked up, though I don't remember 
planning any such thing.  Anyway, when I saw this older guy 
sitting there looking at the girls, obviously enjoying the sight 
of barely clad members of the opposite sex, but not drooling and 
slobbering like most of the wolves there, I felt an immediate 
attraction.
     Why, I don't know.  He certainly wasn't all that handsome.  
No, he wasn't bald or really fat, just a little overweight, but 
so for that matter, was I.  He must have been at least 50 years 
old, so you'd think I would be turned-off by a guy old enough to 
be my father.  Old enough to be my father?  Heck, the way SOME 
girls get knocked-up "early and often," like a voter in Chicago, 
he could have been my grandfather.
     Actually, he was only about 6 or 7 years older than my 
father, but he could have been.  So why did I even look twice at 
him?  Or even once, for that matter.
     It must have been his smile.  When one of the girls on stage 
did something particularly outrageous, I saw him glance my way, 
and share a grin with me that made me feel we had shared a 
private joke.  He finished the 7-up that he was drinking, and 
left two dollars on the stage in front of him, as he got up to 
leave.  Now THAT got my attention!
     In case you don't know the etiquette, a guy comes into these 
stripper-bars, orders a drink and pays for it, then lays down a 
dollar or two in front of him on the stage.  The stripper will 
then circulate, stopping in front of each patron who has left 
money on the stage, and wave her pussy in his face to the time of 
the music.  He gets a good show, and she gets a nice tip.
     This guy had just left a big tip, and hadn't even had the 
show.  Well, he HAD watched the girl bump and grind in front of 
several other men.
     Our eyes locked, as he made his way over to me.
     I wondered just what it was that he wanted.  Me?  He didn't 
SEEM like a pervert, like the rest of the guys in the bar.  I 
mean, I was less than half his age.
     Hurriedly, I unlocked my eyes from his, and turned to go.  I 
figured I'd better get going, before he could make a pass at me.  
I mean, he'd already made 2 good impressions on me, and I didn't 
DARE talk to him for fear he'd make a third, a fourth, and a 
fifth, and next thing you know I'd be trying to explain to my 
mother about why I was going out with a man old enough to be HER 
father.  I just didn't need that.


                                1


     Besides, he seemed like too nice a guy already, to turn 
down.  Far better that I never gave him the chance.
     Drat my luck!  It turned out that he was going the same way 
that I was.  Only his legs were considerably longer than mine.
     No, he wasn't chasing me.  It's just that he walked a little 
faster than did, and after a block or two, had caught up to me.
     "Uh, Miss?"  I heard a hesitant voice behind me.
     I turned around, and saw the man standing about three feet 
away, looking as if he was scared I might yell "RAPE!" or 
something.  It was almost cute.  He looked so hesitant, for a 
moment I wondered if I had dropped something in the bar, and he 
wanted to return it.  Not quite.
     "Uh, Miss?" he repeated his earlier question, now that he 
could tell he had my attention.  I raised my eyebrows, and 
smirked at him in answer.
     "Yes?" I prompted, when he seemed momentarily tongue-tied.
     "Uh, some women don't like men to be stared at, and I don't 
want to be rude.  But you are probably the most gorgeous thing on 
the streets, and I wonder if you'd be offended, if I just stared 
at you.  I'll try not to be too obvious, and won't do it, if you 
object.  If it bothers you, I can go across the street here, and 
go a different route."
     I looked at the guy in astonishment.  This time I took a 
GOOD look.  I had heard some strange pick-up lines before, but 
this one took the cake.  The guy didn't look all THAT bad.  
Obviously a professional, and not poor, from the pens in his 
pocket, and enormous sparkling ring flashing from his right hand.  
Yes, a gold band on his other hand too.  Not the empty white skin 
you sometimes saw on some men, when they pretended they weren't 
married.
     "You're sure your wife won't mind?" I kidded him.  This also 
pointed out the fact that we both knew he was married.  I'm not 
one to be the "other woman" and break up a happy marriage.  Or 
even an unhappy one, for that matter.
     He grinned right back at me.  "You obviously don't know my 
wife," he observed.  "SHE would point a gorgeous hunk of woman 
like you out to me, to make sure I didn't miss you, if she were 
here."
     It sounded like a big lie, and a bunch of hokey, but somehow 
I found myself believing him.  I was about to say, "No way, 
Jerk!" and continue on, but somehow the words came out different.  
"Well, if that's ALL you want, why not?" I heard my mouth say.  
As I said earlier, my hormones must have been in control of me.  
For sure I never would have said that, if my brain was in 
control.
     He looked at me and grinned.  I looked back at him and 
blushed.  We both knew that wasn't "all" that he wanted.
     I felt my pussy gush.  Here I was being turned-on by a guy 
who must have been 30 years older than I was.  Perhaps even more.  
I didn't DARE say anything more.  Still blushing, I turned back 
to walking towards my car.  There were three blocks to go, and I 
could feel his gaze burning a hole in my short little skirt all 
the way.




                                2


     After a bit, I began to enjoy it.  What healthy young woman 
DOESN'T enjoy the interested gaze of a healthy male?
     Even if she doesn't plan on doing anything, it's nice to 
know that you can attract members of the opposite sex.  After 
about a block, I deliberately put a little extra wiggle in my 
walk, to tease him a little.
     I sneaked a glance out of the corner of my eye, and saw his 
grin spread clear across his face.  HE knew what I was doing.  
Surprisingly, he wasn't staring as obviously as I thought he 
would, now that I'd given him permission to do so.  I guess he 
didn't want to draw attention to his staring, and maybe embarrass 
me that way.  Still, his eyes only left me to occasionally check 
his bearings, and watch the light while crossing the street.  He 
was such a gentleman.  I knew I could have easily left him behind 
by crossing against the lights, but I didn't want to.  He had 
been nice about the whole thing, why not LET him enjoy the view?
     At the last intersection, where I had to cross the street to 
reach my car, he turned to the right.  I was almost disappointed, 
that he didn't follow me right up to the car.  Still, that would 
have been somewhat scary, if he had stopped too.
     "Thank you VERY much," he said with a happy smile, before 
heading down to HIS car, parked about three parking meters down.  
He HADN'T been following me!  This was where he was going anyway, 
and he had just wanted to "enjoy the view" without "bothering" 
me.  Gee, if he wasn't so old, I'd be tempted to give him a 
chance to make a REAL pass at me.  Still, I knew I'd better not.  
Besides, he was married.  For a second, I envied his wife.  Lucky 
dog.
     I watched him climb into his car, and dump a pile of 
packages on the seat next to him, before the light changed, and I 
had to go.
     My car was parked across the street and diagonally behind 
his.  I knew he couldn't see me any more, but I could still see 
him.  His eyes were occupied with something on the seat beside 
him, and it looked like it might be a while before he pulled out.  
Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your viewpoint) for me, it 
turns out.  I wondered if he was sitting there "pulling his pud."
     I grinned at the thought.  Well if he was, he deserved it.  
"Shame on you girl," I told myself, "thinking nasty thoughts 
about that nice old man."  I almost creamed my jeans (well, 
actually short little panties under the mini-skirt) at the 
thought.  I was almost tempted to go back across the street and 
offer my hot little box as a convenient receptacle to jack-off 
into.
     Almost.  God I was getting to be a horny little bitch.  All 
just because I let a guy just look at me.  My panties were 
soaking wet.
     I fumbled for my keys, to open the car door.  No keys.
     DAMN!  I did this time after time.  Now WHICH pocket did I 
put them in?  My magazines were getting in my way, so I lay them 
on the hood, while I searched my purse.  Still no keys.  I was 
just getting desperate, when I saw the glint of metal inside the 
car, next to the steering wheel.  Double-shit!




                                3


     I had locked my keys inside the car.  My triple-'A' card had 
just expired last month, as Daddy figured it was time I started 
paying for my own expenses, and I just couldn't afford the 40 or 
50 dollars a tow-truck or locksmith would charge to open the car 
for me.  This HAD happened before.  Usually I managed to get some 
helpful man to jigger the door, and let me in.
     Helpful-man. . . Hmmmm.  I checked across the street, and 
sure enough he was still there.  Did I imagine it, or was his 
hand jerking up and down while he stared at whatever it was he 
had in the seat beside him.  I giggled as I realized that he was 
probably jacking-off to a porno-magazine.  I thought of the three 
magazines I had in MY bundle, and wondered if he was looking at 
one of the same ones.
     (I SAID my hormones were raging wild that day.  I had 
stopped in a bookstore earlier, and bought not one, but THREE 
porno-mags to finger myself off with that night.)
     If he was jacking off, I figured I'd better get over there 
before he finished, because he'd probably pull out, once he 
squirted his cum.  I felt a hot flush run through my body.  If I 
hurried, I might actually get there in time to see the white 
sticky-stuff squirt out the head of his prick.
     Damn, what a horny thought!  Checking the traffic, I hurried 
across the street, making sure I crossed BEHIND him, so he 
wouldn't see me approach.
     Damn!  I was right.  He WAS "choking the chicken."  And what 
a long neck that chicken had!  Almost 9 inches long, and almost 
as big around as my wrist!  Suddenly, I no longer wanted to watch 
him cum.  I had a much better place in mind for that greasy load 
to go, than all over his seat-cushion.
     The girl in the magazine on the seat, looked somewhat like 
me, and I wondered if he was dreaming it was me he was fucking 
instead of that trollop.  I hoped so.  By this time, I had my 
plans fully formed.  I was NOT going to go to bed tonight with a 
lonely finger up my twat. It was going to be full of thick sticky 
man-cream, or I would know the reason why not!
     I tapped on the window, almost giving the poor guy a heart 
attack.  For a second, I thought he was going to jump right out 
of his skin, when he saw me looking in the car-window.  "Caught!" 
must have been his thought.
     I tapped again.  This time, he cautiously rolled the window 
down.  I guess he was worried I was going to rail at him for 
being such a pervert.
     Not a chance.  Far from being angry, I was almost ready to 
cum myself, at the very thought of him jacking off in front of 
me.
     This time, it was MY turn to be hesitant.
     "Uh," I said, "I locked my keys in my car.  I was wondering 
if you could help."
     For a second he looked at me, then he looked at his wilting 
prick with some embarrassment, and tried stuffing it back in his 
pants.  I HAD to do something to reassure him, and lighten up the 
mood.  A nasty thought occurred to me, and I just couldn't 
resist.




                                4


     "No, not with THAT key," I joked, "though I have another 
slot it might fit into pretty good, if you're willing to try it 
afterwards."
     Oh my GOD!  I had just walked up to this almost complete 
stranger, and invited him to fuck me.  I mean I just didn't DO 
things like that!  But I obviously just had.  Suddenly it was ME, 
who was blushing in embarrassment.
     This time, he tried to lighten ME up.  "I'll have to check 
with my wife on this," he joked.  "I'm not sure how much she 
wants me trying out my 'key' in some other woman's lock."  This 
made me like the guy even more.  He was trying to be faithful, 
and giving me an 'out' at the same time.
     Damn.  I didn't WANT an out.  I wondered if he really did.
     Five minutes later, with a  bent coat-hanger, and a lot of 
cussing, my car door was open, and I had rescued my keys, and 
deposited my packages in the back seat.  I made sure I 
"accidentally" spilled the magazines out of their covering bag, 
so he couldn't help but see my porno selection.
     "I like them too," I said with a grin, then blushed at my 
forwardness.
     When he had been opening the car-door, I had stood right 
next to him, so that my breasts were almost next to his nose, and 
he could see right down my blouse.  I hoped he could smell my 
perfume, but wondered if it wasn't overwhelmed by the smell of a 
horny woman on a hot day.  Well, that was kind of a perfume too.
     "Oooh, thank you," I gushed.  "I just MUST find SOME way to 
thank you."
     He grinned at me.  "No charge," he said.  "Just getting the 
chance to spend a little time next to a sexy little thing like 
you, is all the thanks a horny old goat like me needs.  Thank 
YOU!"
     "Uh, couldn't I at least buy you a cup of coffee?" I asked.  
My pussy was so itchy now, that I could barely keep from crossing 
my legs to stop the river of cream from dripping down my leg.
     What WAS it about this guy, anyway?  He was certainly not 
one of those handsome young studs, that looked like Greek gods in 
all the porno-magazines.  Oh, he wasn't bad looking.  He just 
wasn't GOOD looking either.  A little overweight, but not fat.  
Tall, sandy-blond hair, with streaks of gray in it.  No, 
definitely not handsome, but also definitely not a dog either.  
It had to be the personality.  The friendly smile, and the 
willingness to help out, were something, but almost ANY young guy 
would have been willing to help out a pretty young girl, and most 
men DID smile like that, when said pretty girl showed any 
interest at all in them.  So, what was it with this guy?
     I just HAD to find out.  I wondered if that "chicken" was 
really as long as it looked like, and how good it would feel 
squirming up inside my tight little crack.  Damn!  There I went 
again!
     "Miss," said the guy again, "are you trying to seduce me?"
     "Well. . ."  Damn.  I was caught.  I WAS trying to seduce 
him.  ME, the girl who didn't fuck nobody, nohow.  No, I wasn't a 
virgin, but I almost was.  I probably got less sex in a year, 
than most prison inmates do.  I was too scared, and usually too 
shy to allow a man to seduce me.


                                5


     So why was I coming on to this guy over twice my age, like a 
street-hooker?  I couldn't believe myself, but I just HAD to have 
this guy in bed.
     "Well, in that case," said the guy with a grin, "how can I 
refuse?  I'll have to call my wife first, and get her OK, but 
let's go."
     HUH!?!?  Call his WIFE?  And go WHERE?
     I was so confused, that is was with some relief, that I saw 
he was leading me to the pizza-station on the corner.  
"Oh. . .Coffee," I thought.
     For a moment, I had almost expected him to take me to a 
hotel or something.  Or maybe home to his dyke of a wife.  Gawd!  
What had I gotten myself into?
     Standing in line to buy a paper-cup filled with steaming-hot 
coffee, gave me a chance to calm down.  Whatever he was up to, it 
was obvious he was going to be a gentleman about it, like he had 
with everything else he had done.  Even his staring at my body 
had been quite nicely done, and he had even asked my permission 
before doing that.
     Once he had me settled into a seat with my coffee, he left 
his steaming on the table, and stood up to use the phone.  
Luckily, it was just behind the booth where I was sitting, and 
the restaurant was empty at the moment, in a lull between rushes.  
I could hear almost every word he said.
     "Mom."
     "Hi."
     "You too.  Uh, dear?"
     "Uhuh."
     "Yes.  Uh dear, there's a favor I'd like to ask you."
     "Uhuh.  We've talked about this before."
     "Uhuh.  No.  It's real.  I don't believe it myself, but 
there's this girl here, who can't be much older than Brian, and 
she's trying to seduce me."
     The man's voice temporarily took on a hurt tone.
     "Of course I wouldn't.  You know me better than that!"
     "Six weeks huh?  That long."
     "I'll have to ask her."
     I couldn't believe this!  The guy was actually asking his 
wife for PERMISSION to fuck me!  Un-fucking-believable!  However, 
my admiration for him just went up about 60 notches.  NOBODY asks 
their wife if they can fuck another woman!
     Yet this guy was doing just that, and it looked like if she 
said "No," he would keep his word.  What a MAN!  Not to mention 
what a woman, to capture and keep a guy like this.  I wondered if 
I would EVER be so lucky.
     "Huh?" I had been so distracted, I hadn't heard the 
question.
     "I hate to ask this, but you're not a hooker, are you?"
     For a moment, I almost got up and walked out.  I mean!  Then 
I thought about it.  There was no way HE could know.  Besides, I 
might BE a hooker, even if I wasn't planning on charging him.
     "No," I said, flatly.  If that wasn't enough, then tough-
shit.  I didn't NEED to get laid all THAT bad.  Or did I?




                                6


     Shamefully, I found I had to admit that I did.  If I didn't 
get this dude in bed in the next 20 minutes or so, I would 
probably go back to that bar and pick up the first horny creep I 
found.  I had never been so horny in my life.
     "My wife says I can. . . But it'll cost me," the guy ex
plained, holding onto the receiver, but covering the mouthpiece.
     "Huh?"  I'm brilliant sometimes. . . NOT.
     "She says that if I fuck you, it'll be six weeks before I 
get any from HER, and then I'll have to take a blood-test first."
     "You mean she'll be THAT mad?" I asked.  "I guess if it'll 
hurt her that bad, you'd better not."  Damn!  I did NOT want to 
go back to that scummy bar, after meeting a guy like this!
     "Oh NO!" he corrected, "It's not that at ALL.  Marlene 
doesn't care WHO I fuck.  She doesn't really enjoy sex all that 
much herself.  She just lets me have it because she loves me. . . 
And I love her too."
     This didn't make much sense to me, so he explained further.
     "My wife is just scared that I might pick up some disease."
     At my indignation, he continued, "No.  It's not YOU.  She 
just doesn't know who YOU have been fucking, and neither do I.  
So, if I do fuck anybody else, she wants me to wait six weeks, or 
long enough to develop antibodies to any disease, then have a 
blood-test before she'll be willing to have sex with me again.  
She's scared to death, of catching AIDS," he confided in a 
whisper.
     "Oh."  Put that way, it made kind of sense.  "She really 
won't mind?" I asked.
     He chuckled.  "Actually, I think she'll be glad to get six 
weeks rest.  Every night and every morning, is starting to wear 
on her."
     Ohmigawd!  "You do it THAT often?"  I asked.  50+ years old, 
and STILL going that strong?  I wondered what kind of stud he had 
been when he was my age.
     "Well actually, I jack off a couple-three times a day too," 
he admitted somewhat shamefacedly.  "What? . . Oh, here."  He 
shoved the phone in my face.  "My wife wants to talk to you," he 
said.
     "Huh?"  I didn't really have time to object.  What WAS I 
going to say to this incredible man's lovely wife?  She MUST be 
lovely, to capture and hold a man like him.
     "You take good care of him," came the tinny voice at the 
other end of the wire, "or I'll come down there and tear your 
heart out."
     I suddenly realized what was happening.  The woman thought 
she was about to lose her husband to another woman, but loved him 
too much to stand in his way, if that's what he wanted.  No 
wonder he loved her so.
     I tried to explain that I just wanted to get laid, and was 
NOT looking for a permanent relationship.  Especially, with a man 
old enough to be my own father.
     Somewhat mollified, the woman's voice on the other end of 
the line told me that, "You'd better make it REAL good then, if 
he's going to miss out on sex for 6 weeks."
     By this time, I was wondering if the whole thing was a good 
idea after-all.  Still, I was so horny I almost couldn't walk.


                                7


     Damn! Here I had the nicest guy, willing to fuck me, and 
even had his wife's permission to do so, and I was thinking of 
calling it off so he wouldn't get "cut off" afterwards.
     "It's OK," I told her, "I'd better not.  I can always get 
laid by any number of guys back at that bar where we met."  
Truth, but did I WANT to?  My pussy screamed, "YES!" while my 
mind shuddered at the thought.  What a bunch of creeps.  My body 
didn't care.  Creeps on no creeps, they all had pricks between 
their legs.  If I went back there, I'd probably get gang-banged.   
What a delicious thought.  (AAAK! I mean, what a HORRIBLE 
thought!)  I tried to explain this to the woman on the other end 
of the line.
     For a moment, there was silence.  Then, "Let me speak to my 
husband."
     I was emotionally wrung out by now.  All I knew was that I 
WAS going to get fucked that night.  No ifs, ands, buts, or 
maybes.  If I had to crawl into a box with one of the street-
people under the bridge, I WAS going to get fucked.
     The guy who had started everything had been watching and 
listening, while he sipped his coffee.  I hadn't noticed, but his 
leg was right next to mine as we sat side-by-side, like two 
lovers.  God, I hoped we would be lovers.  At least for that 
night, anyway.  We were.
     "Do it."  I overheard the firm voice instruct.
     "But."
     "I said do it," the somewhat tinny voice continued, "Take 
her somewhere, and do it.  She needs you more right now, than I 
do.  <giggle>  Or ever do, for that matter.  I don't want to see 
your hairy ass back here before ten o'clock tomorrow, do you hear 
me?"
     "You really mean that?" he asked.
     "I mean it.  Now give her my love, and don't forget I love 
you too."
     "I love you too," he repeated.
     "I know, idiot.  We'll cut that down to TWO weeks.  I can't 
bear to see you suffer.  See you tomorrow. <click>"
     The guy looked at the phone, blew it a kiss, and then hung 
it up.
     We both giggled, somewhat embarrassed, like two little kids.
     "Unh, Your place or mine?" he finally asked, in a somewhat 
shy voice.
     I giggled again.  "I thought you didn't HAVE a place," I 
pointed out.  "Your wife told you not to be back before 10:00 
tomorrow."
     "I could always rent a Hotel," he pointed out.  "I'm not 
THAT poor."
     I giggled again.  From the size of the rock on his finger, 
he wasn't "poor" at all.  "My place," I decided.  A LOT more 
comfortable.
     He followed me home.  I made SURE that I didn't lose him in 
the twists and turns.  Though, there was one scary moment, when a 
big truck cut in between us, and would NOT let him by, that I 
thought all my plans for getting laid were going to get blown 
away.  Thankfully, when I turned off, I was able to see him still 
following me.


                                8


     I had forgotten my place was a mess.  Still, I wasn't in the 
mood for housecleaning.  I was in the mood to get fucked, and 
that's just what we did.
     We fucked.  We fucked in the living-room, on the couch, 
after barely getting inside the door.  We fucked in the bedroom, 
on the bed, and then on the floor doggy-style.  We fucked in the 
bathtub, while cleaning up afterwards.  We fucked in the kitchen, 
while I was making a snack for us.  I never knew that there were 
men like this in the world.
     The first time his prick slid up inside me, I started to 
orgasm, and I almost didn't stop for two whole hours.  When he 
first started to cum in me, he was going to pull out, but I would 
have none of it.  I wanted every drop of his precious baby-juice 
up inside my belly where it belonged.  I didn't care if I got 
pregnant or not.  No WAY was I going to let this wonderful man 
pull out and waste his precious sperm in some unfeeling tissue-
paper.  Feeling him squirting inside me, just added to my desire.
     Each time I'd start to come down from my sexual high, he'd 
make some lewd suggestion, or feel me up, or possibly start 
eating me out, or giving me a massage or something, and I'd get 
all excited again.
     He seemed to be an almost continuous sperm-fountain.  It 
usually only took him about half an hour to recharge, before he 
was ready to fuck again, and then we'd screw for an hour or two 
before he sent another big helping of his potent sperm squirting 
high in my receptive young womb.  I don't think I'll EVER find a 
guy to satisfy me like he did that night.
     The next morning, we were at it again, only with variations 
this time.  Up the ass, 69, cunnilingus and fellatio, were only a 
few of the positions and things we tried.  By the time 9:30 
rolled around, I was finally starting to feel sated.  Sexy, full 
of cum, but no longer crawling the walls with sexual hunger.
     Never again was I going to go that long without sex, I 
vowed.  He was looking a little bushed as well.  I don't think he 
ever got that much sex before in his life.  Not even on his 
honeymoon.
     "I guess I'd better be going," he observed sadly, "My wife 
is going to be expecting me home at ten."
     "She said, 'Don't come back BEFORE ten.'," I reminded him.  
We both knew that we were capable of one last piece, if we pushed 
it.
     "That means she'll expect me AT ten," he observed.  "You 
don't know my wife like I do."
     What could I say?  He was right.  I didn't want to overstep 
the permission I had been given.  After all, the woman had been 
MORE than generous to let me have her husband for this long, when 
I needed him.  Sadly, I watched him get dressed.
     "Oh don't feel so bad," he told me, "You'll eventually find 
someone your own age, who'll treat you better than I ever could."
     I disagree, but didn't tell him that.  It was painful enough 
to let him go as it was.  I didn't want him feeling guilty about 
leaving me here.  It wouldn't be fair to him, OR to his wonderful 
wife.  I hoped I had half the panache that she did, when I 
settled down with MY man, whoever it would be.



                                9


     I was still undressed, when I watched him pull out into 
traffic from the parking lot.  Then I called in sick to work, and 
went back to bed and cried for two solid hours.  To show you 
heaven, and then snatch it away, just isn't FAIR.
     Still, I never once even THOUGHT of trying to steal him away 
from his wife.  THAT wouldn't be fair to HIM, or her either, for 
that matter.  It was about this time, that I suddenly realized I 
didn't even know his name.
     Yeah, I know, big joke.  Girl has horrendous affair with 
guy, and screws him all night long, says good-bye, and never even 
asks who he is.  Damn, I felt like an utter idiot.  Not even his 
FIRST name came to mind.
     What had his wife called him?  Mark?  Frank?  Fred?  There 
was an 'R' in it, and that was all I knew.  Oh yes, he drove a 
white Ford.  There must be 200,000 white Fords in this town.  I 
know, I drive one myself.  Not even a phone-number, or where he 
worked.  Shit!  I couldn't even thank him or his wife for what 
they did for me.
     By the time two days had passed, I was feeling MUCH better.  
The non-stop sex of that incredible night seemed to have soothed 
my body's libido to the point I was comfortable, without being 
frustrated.  A couple of times I went back to the bar, looking 
for the guy, but he was never there.  When I described him, at 
first no one remembered him, until I mentioned his glasses, his 
bag of books, and the fact that he drank 7-up like me, and left a 
big tip.  Then one of the girls on stage remembered that she had 
seen him in there before, but not very often.
     It seems that he came in there about every 5 or 6 months, 
bought a drink each time, watched the show until his drink was 
gone, and then always left a big tip without ever asking the girl 
on stage to perform for him.  It seemed he just liked to look at 
pretty girls.  I blushed, as I remembered the way his eyes had 
followed me down the street.
     After that, things went on fairly normally, until about a 
little over a month later, when I suddenly realized I hadn't had 
my period yet.
     Oh my GOD!  I bought a "Home Pregnancy Test" to be sure.   A 
brown ring.  SHIT!  I go out and screw ONE time in six months, 
and I get knocked up!  And by a married man, and I don't even 
know the asshole's name.
     Double-Shit!  I take that back.  He was NOT an asshole.  He 
was a VERY nice guy, and it was my own fault that I never asked 
him who he was.  He probably figured I didn't want to know.  I 
sure would think that in his position.  After all, I never even 
gave him MY phone-number.
     Heck!  He probably thought I didn't WANT to know who he is, 
or ever have him call me; when the truth was I was so overwhelmed 
by the sheer joy of feeling his body inside mine, I had forgotten 
to perform the basic necessities.  Like asking his name, telling 
him mine, and exchanging phone numbers.  (And using birth-
control, my mind dryly added.)
     It was about two months later, that the REAL problem 
started.




                                10


     You say being pregnant isn't a REAL problem?  Well it is, 
and it isn't.  Thankfully, my work included generous pregnancy 
coverage, and even great daycare for kids, when they need it.  
Also, my parents were surprisingly supportive.  Once they got 
over calling me all kinds of idiot for not asking the guy's name, 
that is.  Since I was so busy doing the same thing myself, I 
hardly noticed.  Momma and Daddy LIKED the idea of having a 
grandson, and they both agreed to help me out whenever I needed 
extra care myself.  Heck, I think they would adopt the kid, if I 
showed any sign that I would let them.
     No way. This is MY kid, from the best man I'll probably ever 
know.  And I am NOT letting anyone take it from me.  No, the 
problem wasn't the big belly.  It's how being pregnant made me 
feel.
     I had never been pregnant before, so it came as a complete 
shock to me, when I found out that as my tummy grew, so did my 
libido.  By the third month, I was almost as screaming horny as 
that night I got knocked up.  Only THIS time I didn't have a 
gentleman to relieve me.  All I had was a bunch of bar-bums.  At 
least, that's what I called them back then.
     I finally got so horny, I fucked the bouncer in the bar.
     That helped for one night.  Then I fucked him again.  Then 
his friend.  Then, I fucked him AND his friend together.
     Before two weeks had passed, I was so horny I was fucking 
anyone and everything.  I would go down to the bar, pick up the 
handsomest guy I found there, and let him "seduce" me.  Then, an 
hour or two later I'd be back, and find the second handsomest.  
By the time I was five months along, I was getting desperate.  
I'd fuck guys in the back alley, or under a bridge.
     The two local hookers had moved elsewhere, as they couldn't 
compete with free pussy.  Two cops tried to get me to proposition 
them for sex, so they could get me for prostitution, and I just 
added them to the string of guys I was fucking.  Better looking 
than most, that was all.
     After a while, I suddenly found that I was ONLY fucking cops 
for a while, as they had "claimed" me as their own private 
nymphomaniac.  Well, I put a stop to THAT.  By threatening to 
expose the whole show if necessary, I got them to back off on 
intimidating others.  Still, over half my clientele were cops.
     Jake, (the owner of the bar) worked out a deal with me.  He 
didn't mind my fucking half the guys in the bar, (it increased 
business) but he knew if I kept on doing it in alleys and places 
like that, I'd probably end up in a body-bag, and then business 
would go to pot.  So, he arranged that I got free rent in a room 
in the back, where I could fuck anybody I wanted.  All HE asked, 
was an occasional piece himself.
     Heck, I was already putting out for him anyway, so that 
wasn't even a price.  To me, it was free.
     SOME bar owners I know, who found a bonanza like me, would 
have had me hooking for him, and taking all the money I made for 
himself.  Jake wasn't like that.  He made his profit on the bar-
tab, and that was it.  Perfectly legal.  Of course, seeing that 
now almost half his customers were policemen, most of whom were 
only too happy to take advantage of my "services" was probably 
one reason for this.


                                11


     On the other hand, I like to think that the real reason was 
that Jake was basically just a nice guy.
     The place was always clean, and he had the bouncer keep an 
eye on me, to make sure I didn't have to put up with shit from 
anybody I didn't want to.  By the time I was 7 months along, that 
didn't leave out much.
     All a man had to do was look hungrily at me, and I would 
melt.  I even felt sorry for the winos and drifters that came in 
and out.  They were so far from home, and never got any sex, I 
felt almost like a Florence-Nightingale helping the sick.  
Perhaps I did help a few.
     Weekdays, I'd fuck about 10 or 20 guys, barely managing to 
clean up between each one, before I'd go out in the bar and 
select my next "victim."  I'd usually start out by watching for 
the biggest tippers for the dancers, then work my way down until 
I was fucking the guys who barely had enough money for the 
"cover" drink.  Once the guys figured this out, the tips for the 
dancers went up tremendously.  The girls tried to get me to 
accept some of the extra tip money, but I wouldn't.  If I had, 
then some cop might figure that I was getting "paid" for my 
"services" and was therefore a prostitute.  Heck, I didn't need 
the money, I just needed to get fucked!
     If a new guy came into the bar, he was damned lucky, or 
solidly married, if I didn't manage to get at least ONE big thick 
sticky squirt of sperm out of him, and up in my horny little 
hole.  I almost found myself seducing Daddy, when he came down 
one day, before I caught myself.  Luckily, all the guys learned 
who he was, and they all acted like gentlemen around me, until 
Daddy left.
     I managed to thank them all, (Except for a couple of die-
hard married men.) by having quite an orgy that night.
     Weekends were different.  Since I didn't have to work at my 
job, I could fuck the whole day.  I'd start out with Jake, when 
he opened the place up, and not have a hole empty of thick 
squirting cock until he closed the place at 2:00 AM in the 
morning.  Then I'd give him a "thank you" fuck and fall asleep on 
the cot, ready to go when he opened up on Sunday.
     It seemed, that the bigger my tummy got, the hornier I got.  
Thank God for the bar, or I would have probably been hauled off 
to a nuthouse.
     THAT would have been sheer torture.  Being horny out of your 
mind, and strapped in a bed, not able to do a damned thing about 
it.  Can you imagine?
     Of course, what I REALLY needed, was a guy like that Fred, 
or Harry, or whatever his name was, that got me IN this condition 
in the first place.  Sadly, not one of the guys in the bar had 
one-tenth the stamina of him.
     All this time, I kept an eye out for the guy, but he never 
came in.  Once, I thought I saw him leaving the bookstore next 
door, but he was gone by the time I rounded the corner.  By this 
time, I had made friends with all the girls in the bar, and they 
helped me keep an eye out.





                                12


     At first, they had all been scared that I was going to try 
to steal their boyfriends, but once they found out I wasn't 
interested in getting a boyfriend, just in getting fucked, they 
eventually started to just feel sorry for me.
     After a while, some of the girls actually started SENDING 
their boyfriends over to see me, when they figured that I was 
getting desperate, or their boyfriend was getting horny, and they 
couldn't help out at the moment.  Some of the guys came around 
regular as clockwork, and I could tell just which of the girls 
were "on the rag" after a while.  I was the first one besides 
Mark, to know that Sherry was pregnant, for instance.
     As I said, the girls mainly felt sorry for me.  I don't know 
why.  I mean, I was the happiest little slut on the face of the 
earth.  Lots of horny men, a place to get laid, even a good job 
in the daytime, to rest up for my fun evenings.  I was in heaven.
     There were days, when I'd get three or four guys to fuck me 
all at once.  They would take turns, then they'd do it together, 
then two at a time, etc.  I'd end up covered with thick greasy 
cum, and have it dribbling out of every orifice, and running down 
my legs.  Wonderful.
     By the eighth month however, things started to go to pot.  
That's pot like in "pot belly."  A lot of the guys got turned off 
at the idea of fucking a "fat woman" and some of the others 
seemed to get all embarrassed; wanting more to "take care" of me, 
than fuck me.  Damn!  The "care" I needed, was more sex!
     It even was affecting my work.  Luckily, I had a lot of 
vacation time saved up, and that combined with maternity leave 
got me through until I had the baby.  I say luckily, because 
otherwise I wouldn't have been able to afford the pre and post-
natal care my son needed.
     That last month, was sheer Hell.  I was hornier than hell, 
and getting very little sex.  In fact, about the only sex I was 
getting, was from Jake, two of the dance-girl's boyfriends, where 
the girl felt so sorry for me, that she insisted that they guy 
help me out, and the two original cops who had first tried to 
bust me.  They had turned out to be pretty nice guys after all.
     Still, It was almost nothing compared to what I HAD been 
getting.  Each little kick of Georgie, seemed to be like a stroke 
of a lover, just making me all that more eager to get fucked.  To 
top things off, my belly got in the way.
     Shit!  The only good thing I have to say about that last 
month, was I found out who my REAL friends were, (Jake, the two 
cops, and the two girls who sent around their boyfriends, and one 
homeless drifter, who practically moved in, to take care of me.
     No, not sexually, he never fucked me even once.  But in 
every other way.  He cleaned up, he helped me get comfortable, he 
brought me lunch when I was feeling too fat and tired to move.  
He even dressed and undressed me as needed, for those who DID 
take advantage of what I had to offer.
     What a guy.  Then he left, while I was at the hospital 
having my baby, and I never got a chance to properly thank him.  
Well, I did try often enough.)





                                13


     After I gave birth, it was as if someone pulled a switch.
     What HAD I been DOING?!?!  Oh my GOD!
     I felt like I never wanted to see another man's prick for 
the rest of my life.
     I was mortified.  Ashamed.  Pissed-off.  Even scared.  What 
if my parents ever found out?  (I found out MUCH later, that they 
HAD known, but didn't know what to do.)  To top it off, I was out 
of a job.
     My reputation had somehow made its way to work, while I was 
in the hospital.  It seems that some of the guys were worried 
about me and the baby, and somehow the truth came out about my 
extra-curricular activities.
     The boss fired me on the spot.  Oh I got a generous 
"severance" pay, but that was only to keep my mouth shut.  She 
didn't want ANYONE ever knowing that the slut that had 
scandalized the town had ever worked at HER little private 
kingdom.  Well, she got what she deserved.  I wanted to fix that 
last little glitch I had been working around on the computer, but 
she wouldn't even let me boot it up.  I tried to warn her, but 
she was adamant.
     So, when the system crashed two days later, taking all of 
her records for the last five years down with it, I just laughed.  
I could have fixed it, if she had just asked me, even if she HAD 
fired me.
     Instead, the bitch tried to SUE me, claiming I had sabotaged 
her system.  Luckily, several of the other girls had overheard my 
pleading to let me fix it, so she not only ended up with no data, 
but my lawyers made her pay for Libel as well.
     You know, I have a backup copy of the files, taken two days 
before I left, buried at my house.  (ALWAYS have backup copies 
OFF premises, if you value your data.  If a fire or something 
burns the factory down. . .)
     I'll be damned if I'll tell her though, until she 
apologizes.  I told her in court, and before the judge, that I 
could probably fix it for her if she'd let me, and all she could 
say was, "I'll be damned if I do."  She's so anti-sex, that she 
has apoplexy seeing a girl in a bathing suit.
     The latest news I hear, is that she's filed for Chapter-11.  
How do people that un-savvy in business ever get started anyway?  
Oh, that's right, she inherited it from her father.
     I feel so sorry for her. . . NOT.  I DO feel sorry for my 
previous fellow workers though.  <sigh>
     So there I was, suddenly UN-pregnant; no longer horny out of 
my mind; (Thank GOODNESS the guys had almost all stopped seeing 
me, before I had the baby.)  A baby to support, and no job.
     I went to work for Jake.  As just another stripper this 
time, though he would have let me use the room in the rear, if I 
wanted to.  <shudder>
     It was all I could do at first, to FAKE liking to have men 
looking at me, as I forced myself to wriggle and shake on the 
stage, and smile as if I was having a good time.  That was the 
most important part: the smile.  You know the old saying:  "Grin 
and bear it." ?




                                14


     Well, I grinned, and I bore it.  The girls all supported me, 
even the ones who had been somewhat reserved before.  They all 
figured I must have been sick in the head or something.  Well, I 
may or may not have been sick, but for damned sure I had been 
oversexed.  Still, occasionally, I would remember just how much 
FUN I had in those days, and would almost wish I could feel that 
sexy again.  Almost.
     It was about a week after I started working for Jake, that 
the girls held the "baby shower" for me.  Along with more baby 
stuff than you would believe, (It seems that they all knew I was 
completely unprepared for actually HAVING the baby, what with my 
horniness taking over my mind.  So, they had all gotten together 
and collected baby-stuff from their families, along with a whole 
lot of new stuff too.)  The topper, was a little envelope they 
gave me at the end.  There was a check for over $5000 in it!  It 
seems that the girls realized how much I had increased their 
income, by always picking the big tippers first, so they had all 
quietly gotten together and agreed amongst themselves to put 
aside 10% of their tips, just for this purpose.
     Nobody HAD to, they just all did.  They STILL ended up with 
a lot more money, and they figured I wouldn't object TOO hard, if 
the money was for the baby.  Well, the baby DID need a lot of 
extras, so I thanked them all profusely.  (And cried a little 
too.  I really hadn't expected THAT.)
     It was about six months or more, before I got back to 
normal.  I guess all that overstimulation had used up my supply 
of libido for half a year ahead.
     By the time I had been working as a dancer at Jake's for 
about five months, I was beginning to enjoy it.  No longer did I 
have to fake my smile, as I jiggled and squirmed in front of the 
guys.
     In fact, I was probably healthier than ever in my attitude.  
From my previous experience I knew all these guys, and they knew 
me.  Even though it was now "look, but don't touch" I could 
associate with their fantasies now, and not feel that they were 
less than men for wanting me.  I remembered only too well, how I 
had wanted men, and sometimes felt a little sorry I couldn't 
relieve the pressure in their balls for them any more.  Still, I 
COULD give them a nice show.  And I did.
     After a while, my tips were almost as big as Ci-Ci's, and 
SHE has a body that makes mine look flat.
     One night, I gave in to myself, and invited Jake to join me 
in the "back room" that had been neglected for over half a year.  
You know?  It was FUN to have sex again.  Jake is a nice guy too.  
Too bad he's married.  His wife knows he fools around with the 
girls, but he makes it plain who he really loves.  She puts up 
with it, and sometimes I hear she puts out for one of the bar 
patrons.  Jake doesn't mind.  It's good for business.
     It was a day or two after this, and I was feeling on top of 
the world; really putting my soul into the stripping, and trying 
to make each guy feel like he was the only one there I was 
dancing for.  I was making my way around, collecting the tips, 
and trying to give each guy a nice show, when one of my customers 
got up and left, flashing me an appreciative smile as he did so.



                                15


     I looked over where he had been sitting; sorry I hadn't 
gotten around to him yet.  There was a five-dollar bill on the 
stage, held down by an empty glass with the pink swizzle-sticks 
that I knew Jake used to identify non-alcoholic drinks, like 7-
up.
     Alarm bells suddenly rang in my head.  For the first time in 
my career as a dancer, I stopped dead in the middle of a routine.
     "JAKE!" I yelled, "That man!  Stop him.  Don't let him get 
away!"
     I don't know if he would have run or not, but at that moment 
Clancy and Moe (My private names for the two cops who had helped 
me so much) were coming in the door, and blocked his exit like a 
brick wall.
     The whole place ground to a halt, until I explained that the 
guy was a friend that I just HAD to see.  Everyone in the bar had 
known I was looking for some guy for over a year, but most of 
them had forgotten by now.
     I took the guy back to the room in the rear (now somewhat 
musty and unused) and brought him up to date on what had 
happened.  He was genuinely sorry.  However, when I told him 
about his being a father, he almost burst with joy.
     It seemed that his wife couldn't have any more children, so 
he had been resigned to just having one.  The thought of maybe 
having to pay child-support, didn't seem to bother him a bit.  
"We can afford it," he shrugged.
     By this time, the music had started up again in front, as 
the other girls took over; filling in for me while I took care of 
"personal business"
     I sometimes did the same for them, when their boyfriends got 
too horny watching them on stage.  That little room in the back 
wasn't COMPLETELY unused, which is why Jake didn't make it back 
into a storeroom.  He sometimes used it himself to "audition" the 
girls.
     After we had exchanged news on what was going on, he finally 
asked me if there was any way he could make it up to me, for 
leaving me alone with a kid in my belly like that.
     I reminded him that he hadn't even had my address, and I 
hadn't asked his, so how could he blame himself?
     "I don't know, I just do," he replied.
     "Well," I told him, "if you really WANT to make it up to me, 
there's one thing you could do."
     "What's that?" he asked.
     "THIS," I panted, planting a big juicy kiss on his lips, and 
pulling him down on top of me.
     "Oh shit, here goes another six weeks," he said, but with a 
big grin on his face.  His big cock was just as nice as I 
remembered it.
     "Two weeks," I corrected.  "Your wife knows how much I need 
this, and if she doesn't, I'll follow you home and tell her!"
     "Two weeks," he agreed.  "It'll be worth it."
     Five minutes later, the inside of my cunny was receiving the 
nicest sperm-bath it had gotten in FAR too long.





                                16


     Afterwards, Fred (Yes, I got his name this time) used the 
bar phone to call his wife and tell her where he would be 
spending the night.  I made SURE he gave her both address AND 
phone-number to write down.  I also got his.  I wasn't about to 
make the same mistakes twice in a row.  Not me!  You can bite me 
once, but never twice.
     Yeah.  Sure.  Uhuh.  I see you've guessed already.
     Yep, two weeks later, I missed my period.  Only by this 
time, I was living with Jake and his wife, as their "live-in" 
maid.  (Or is that, "Live-in Made" ?)  for sure I don't do much 
cooking and cleaning.  My main chore is keeping the man of the 
house sexually satisfied, while Marlene does all the rest.
     After about 3 months though, Even Fred is lagging somewhat.
     We've all been talking about my doing some "part-time" work 
for Jake down in that little room in the back, to take some of 
the pressure off.
     I'm sure Jake would go for it, and maybe I can sometimes 
even still do some dancing now and then.  A little extra fun-
money always comes in handy, even if you ARE part of a wealthy 
family.  I can hardly wait.
     Jake told Fred that I can start tomorrow, and he's going to 
let all of my old friends know I'm available again.  Gee, twenty 
or thirty horny guys a night, all for me.  Won't this be FUN?
     Since both  Marlene and Fred always wanted a lot of kids, 
but Marlene can't have any more, even though they can afford 
them, Marlene had Fred promise me that he'd keep getting me 
pregnant, until I either decide I've had enough, or I get too old 
to have any more babies.  Just think; with about 6 months to rest 
up after each baby, I could have about 18 kids before I turn 40.  
With any luck, maybe even more.  I LOVE being pregnant.  It makes 
me feel so SEXY.  As I said before, I can hardly wait.


























                                17
