Two Hungry Mouths, Including A Missing Woman's
I dreamed that I came into town on Tuesday and hit the loop at around 5:30 in the afternoon. Picked up Storm at 20th & Greenfield at around 6:30.20. Pump. Watch the pornography starring Storm and I. An attractive young, white woman sucking my cock. Paradise. Squirt. Smash the unlock button. Spit. 10.
Came back out and cruised from 1:30 until 2:30 at night. Found nothing in that hour and went to bed. When I arrived on Greenfield, though, I found myself behind a red car with no license plate and a window out and a plastic bag-style sheet in its stead. At 23rd or 24th street, as I rounded the block and came back out to Greenfield to pick up this hooker, this same car scooped her right in front of me! They drove across the street while I turned right. Some minutes later, down in the low numbers, I found myself behind this same car for a third time! We both saw a hooker on the north-west corner of 8th street, so we both jutted in on 7th and took the alley, me right behind him. He must have been freaked out at that point, seeing me behind him for a third time. So, he continued straight into the next alley while I went and talked to said hooker. It was just that creepy Lexi, so I passed. Was that red car one of you mongers on this board? Come on now and say so, if it was. Don't be shy.
Hit the loop again Wednesday afternoon at around 4:30. Found a legendary hooker on Greenfield between 6th & 7th streets on the south sidewalk. Zoomed left into the driveway to that grocery store and cut her off at the pass. I promise none of you have ever seen as aggressive or brazen a John as myself. Of course, when the cops catch up with me, I run away with my tail between my legs, frightened to death. But other than those brief moments, I'm King Of These Streets! I asked her her name, and she said "It's me" and told me her middle name. I then recognized her and excitedly stated her nickname, and she said "yes"! In she hopped! She hadn't been out on these streets since 2019! I'm not going to say her name, because on facebook that night, I saw that she was reported "missing" that day, and that literally thousands of people had shared the posts! How dreadful. We hung out for around two hours. 20. She had a stuffed up nose, so she couldn't keep rhythm too well, thus it took her probably a good 15 minutes to procure my gift. Prior to the blow job, we discussed where she would squirt it. She apparently had been planning on shooting it into the air. After I convinced her to shoot it into her mouth, she informed me that she will swallow it, stating that she doesn't understand why girls spit it out. If it goes into her mouth, she said, she just swallows it. So, when I was about to shoot, she stuffed my pigstick into her upper esophageal sphincter and squirted 2/3 of my load into her stomach. Unfortunately, the other third wound up oozing out of my cock onto my thigh. But all-in-all, it was a fabulous time! We buzzed around looking for her truck on-and-off for the next hour-and-a-half, while we chatted pleasantly and reminisced about old times together and about the street scene then and now. Now, she has a job, a vehicle, and is off hard drugs, as evidenced by the fact that she wasn't in a hurry and has a vehicle. She loves her probation officer! Perhaps in a future post I will say which hooker she is. That truck I dropped her off at and watched her get into was the same one in the pictures her family and friends posted. One huge bit of criticism I have of hookers is that they leave their family and friends wondering if they're alive or dead. Shame on them for that.
I cruised home after that. Though I only got two blowjobs, they both were excellent and I was 2-for-2 in orgasms. All-in-all, a pleasant excursion.
Body Shopper.
A) All These Mouths To Feed b) Forlornity
In the great Circle Of Life, all life is inter-connected. We sloremongers drive into Silver City from both near and afar. We fill the slores' bras with cash, which they, in turn, spend on food, drugs, clothing, etc. Locally. With this money, the drug dealers pay their rent, and with that money the landlords pay their property taxes. Our money also gives the slores' boyfriends their drug fix, straight into their arm or up their nose. We Johns have a very important role in The Circle Of Life. With many mouths to feed, ours is an arduous yet rewarding task.
I arrived in Silver City at around 7:00 pm On Cinco De Mayo, to the visual and audio display of Mexican pride and solidarity. They were murdering people left and right! The cops had Elgin Lane cordoned off, because someone had been shot there that afternoon. Later in the night, as I was driving westbound on Greenfield at about 22nd street, I heard several pops, and one driver was shot dead on 21st & Orchard. Later in the night, the cops had 16th Street cordoned off from Greenfield up to Mineral. I'm guessing someone else was shot.
So, on my first cruise up Greenfield, I found Jill The Great! I was going to wait until after the blow job to confront her about Street Meat's friend, but when we got out to my spot, she burst forth with a proud confession, stating that:
A) The man handed her $140 and told her to get out and get drugs with it to bring to his house so that she "feels good."
B) It was the man's idea. She had not requested to buy drugs first.
C) He told her that he'd previously been ripped off four times in this exact manner and begged Jill not to do a 5th.
If it's true that this is the fifth person who's ripped him off, there is a really easy way of finding out how dangerous your friend is, and therefore what degree of peril Jill and her customers are in: What did your friend do to the first four people who stole his money?
I'm the most anti-social, so while my dick was already in Jill's mouth and we were still discussing this, I told her that she was wrong to do it, despite the guy's idiocy. She disagreed. I let her have the last word, without backing down on my stance. I reassured her that she and I have always had a good relationship and still do, as I groped her shapely ass. Also, with my dick in her mouth, I spoke of the intelligence of my tactic of bringing them out far so that they suck dick for a ride back (after paying them up-front, of course). It took Jill 10 or 15 minutes to activate my sperm ducts this time, but I was in heaven that entire time. I tilt my seat all the way back and watch these girls face-hug me. Once my ducts were ventilated, my sperm shot like a torrent into her willing and capable gullet. Success! Heaven! This is what I live for! After raising my kids, of course. That's priority #1, by far. Sex is a distant second.
I'm back in touch with Erika, by the way. No thanks to you guys not giving me her number when I posted, asking anyone who has it to pass it along to me, after I gave it to so many of you without asking for anything in return. I was going through my old text messages and came upon our thread from her second-most-recent number which I'd deleted. Even though it had been disconnected before she gave me a new number, I decided to call it. Lo-and-behold, it works again, and she called me back!
Turned in for a few hours, then hit the stroll again at around 1:15 am Found Liz who I'd bought food for last year on National. Remember, guys? I didn't do a date with her then. Some of you consorted with her on National last year too, around 26th or 27th. Well, this time she was on 23rd & Greenfield. Took her out to the spot. It was nice to finally connect with her. She sucked my cock for probably 10 minutes, then the goo spurted out into her capable yet beleaguered mouth. When I dropped her back off at the same spot, but a half-a-block in, she popped a squat with my door open, right on the side of the street in plain view of Greenfield Avenue, and for around a half-a-minute it sounded like a waterfall! If you look up the term "relief" in the dictionary, you'll see two faces: mine while I'm shooting, and Liz while she's urinating. She was in such a state of contentment while expelling that liquid waste. And what better way to treat society than to relieve oneself on a public street?
I turned in for the night and got some sleep, knowing that there were many more mouths counting on me to feed them the next day.
Life is an absolute nightmare. The sooner you come to grips with this fact, the better off you'll be. In addition to the fact that all living creatures are in the food chain, and that diseases and starvation occur, there are the emotional perils of human interaction. In the age of technology, promiscuity, and police, both males and females are taught from day one to be stoic when people we like exit our lives. Men especially are conditioned to believe that it is weak to develop an emotional attachment to a woman. Of the hundreds of prostitutes I've done dates with, and hundreds more that have passed through my car without a date, I knew that I had fallen in love with two of them, and was rather proud that such a tiny percentage ever affected me in that way. Well, yesterday I learned something about myself. There is a third prostitute who, while I don't think my feelings meet the bar of love, has me dreadfully emotionally enthralled and at her mercy. While sex, of course, is my main reason for having been a connoisseur of the working girls since age 19, a secondary reason that has emerged (at least into my consciousness) within the past decade is that I don't want the emotional terror that comes with consorting with non-prostitutes. Prostitutes, or so I thought, are an oasis where I can go to enjoy sex without the emotional baggage. Well, I was wrong. Yesterday I ran across a regular three times who I hadn't seen in a while and got rejected each time without reason, but instead repeated assurances that everything's good between us. This is someone who I haven't talked about much on here and who I care not to name. Upon being rejected, I felt those same pangs of emotional pain and attachment that I have felt for so many non-prostitutes with whom I've consorted throughout my life. Ironically, I had complimented this individual last year, telling her about a local woman who's not a prostitute, who I'd briefly been in love with recently, and how terrible it was that I'd thought about her every day for five months, and stating my preference for prostitutes due to the fact that they don't grip my mind and keep me thinking about them. Perhaps she took that as a challenge? I don't think so, because the bond had already been created prior to that conversation.
I always knew that I was in the presence of someone who is more powerful, knowledgeable, experienced, and worldly than me. Yet I dallied along with 100% confidence.
I don't think my feelings rise to the bar of love. But where is the line drawn between liking and loving? I don't know. Aside from the one who I mentioned in a recent post, I've never given a shit if any prostitute turns me down, other than the fact that I need to shoot semen out. But yesterday I was floored by my self-realization that I actually have these feelings for her. And meanwhile, she's getting in cars with every random stranger and sucking their cocks. Yikes. What have I gotten myself into? I stand by my philosophy, though, as it is sound and logical: Women are all in two categories: virgins and non-virgins. Only feminism has instructed us that there are different tiers of social and physical quality among non-virgins. Feminism lies. These women are just as tight in the pussy as non-pros, even after fucking thousands of men. So unless I'm a simp, why should I care whether a woman is sucking two cocks a month or ten a day? It's all the same.
Even in the steep of my predicament, I find some solace in reminding myself that street prostitutes push their colleagues, friends, family, and even their own children out of their lives, so I am being treated just the same as everyone else in her life.
Speaking of which, another street prostitute I'm close with, whom I did not do a date with this time, informed me yesterday that her mother recently put out a missing person's report on her. Leaving your friends and family wondering if you're alive or dead is disgusting behavior!
I cruised yesterday for three hours, from around 11:30 am Until 2:30 pm And didn't have any dates. I did pick up three slores, though. The first was a Hispanic slore named Elizabeth. She looked Mexican, perhaps. Pretty face and decent body, probably around 30 years old. She didn't speak much English, but was able to say "40", then upon my rejection, "20", and I agreed. As I ventured away, she asked me to turn back and drop her off. No sweat off my ball sack. On the way back, she asked if I want to see her pussy, and I said "no", not wanting to obligate myself to pay her without even doing a sex act. I dropped her off, then parked and approached her on foot, offering her a date right there in broad daylight in my car, on the condition that I pay her afterward. She turned me down.
Next I picked up Angie on Lincoln, who Soccer Fan 4245 has been prodding me to do a date with for the better part of a year now. She was standing flagrantly and flamboyantly on Lincoln, at around 11th street, with a pussy-high mini-skirt on. I pulled around the block, and coming back out to Lincoln, I recognized her from the pictures Soccer Fan has sent me. Immediately upon driving by the first time on Lincoln, I'd noticed that her legs looked masculine. Nothing attractive about them. Upon seeing her up close, I found her to look disgusting. Short hair, no shapeliness to the body, no prettiness to the face, and an open, bloody wound around a half-inch thick on one facial cheek. But since it's the legendary Angie, I let her in. She lifted up her mini-skirt with a big smile on her face, revealing a very attractive and clean-shaven pussy, which I rubbed. I then remarked on her having no underpants on, to which she happily chirped, "Easy access!" still grinning at me. She said she doesn't go very far away. I replied that I do go very far away, and that I give 20 up front, then 10 if I cum. She swiftly exited the car, admonishing me about my prices. She was now out of the car with the door open, and I asked her what she would charge, and she said "50".
A bit later, I picked up Sydney off 22nd & Greenfield. I reminded her that I had let her keep that 20 last time even though she hadn't performed. I told her that if we do a date, I would pay afterward, pending her performance. She agreed, but was so reluctant, spiteful, and gloomy, that I politely said I'm going to pass, and she exited with an air of relief about her.
Good riddance.
Then I went and hung out with a friend.
Then I came back and met one Christina on around 8th or 9th and Madison or Scott, whichever that first street is north of Greenfield there. She was amicable to my said pricing, so off to the races we went! She was working hard, so after probably 12 minutes, I gave her the other 10, but requested her to give me a couple of more minutes of head. She didn't keep rhythm throughout, though she was getting better toward the end. She had me 98% of the way there on-and-off for the last five minutes of what turned out to be, I'd estimate, a 15-minute blow job; but the interrupted rhythm didn't allow me to complete my mission. At one point, I told her that if she's hating it that much, she can be done, so she stopped. Her breathing had conveyed utter annoyance.
Dropped her off.
Picked up Kenzi on National and around 21st street. Must have been with her for around an hour-and-a-half. She was not in a hurry at all. Tried out a new spot. Didn't like it. She agreed to repair to my main spot, after I told her where it is. I had to take a shit. Went behind some stuff and did it. I left my driver's door wide open and took my keys with me. As expected, I caught her pawing through my center console when I emerged during wiping for the purpose of checking to see if she's trying to steal. I don't keep stealable valuables in my car proper, so I'm pretty sure she didn't find anything. She apologized and explained herself as that she was looking for a pen to write down her information for me with! How darling. I went back and finished my hygiene business, and we got right to task. Kenzi proceeded to give me a great blow job! She employed lots of techniques, each more delightful than the previous, including deep throating. She swallowed my whole load! She didn't stop pumping my filth out until she'd consumed every last drop! On our way back, I checked inside my glove compartment to see if she'd pawed through that too, because I remembered how I'd left it. Sure enough, something was placed differently. I then cooly remarked, "I see you went through my glove compartment too. " She replied that she had looked for a pen first in there.
So, in 25 hours I had four women: three new ones I'd never had before, and one regular. I shot in three of these four hussies. My sex travel was a smashing success!
Body Shopper.
