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.

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.

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!

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.

"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.

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?

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.

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.

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.