Devil With A Blue Dress On

As good as she was, and she's plenty good, my wife by herself wasn't enough to satisfy me. That's why I dated streetwalkers in the first place; I got jaded doing just one woman, especially one who hated anal sex.

True, since our second date I hadn't picked up any hooker other than Andi; hadn't really wanted to come to think about it. But how long could this state of affairs last before the same wave of sexual lassitude washed over me; before even reaming Andi's taut ass with an uncovered dick became the same old, same old and I was out looking for new thrills again?

Still, if the wanderlust, emphasis on the lust part, returned I could always end my relationship with Andi. She was right about one thing though; if I did agree to her terms I'd honor them. As long as we were doing it bareback she wouldn't have to worry about me going out with another prostitute.

You expect important government papers to be printed on expensive parchment, with glittering gold foil seals and elaborate red, white and blue ribbons. A letter from the Publisher's Clearing House had more pizzazz than my report from the county health department. Based on its looks, the thin yellow copy of a triplicate carbonless form, a pale and scratchy blue note at the bottom indicated I was AIDS-free along with the time and date of my next appointment, could have been the receipt for the repairs on my lawn mower.

For the first time, I had trouble finding Andi. She wasn't in her usual spot when I went by and I checked at several different times over several different days. Unless you have a phone number or an address, finding the same hooker can be a hit or miss proposition; that's why a lot of us who date go with a wide variety of girls, better odds that one will be available when the urge strikes. But, whether it was a regular schedule or just good luck, Andi had always been on the stroll when I looked for her.

Her absence from the scene gave me mixed emotions. I was worried something had happened to her; I was pissed I had gone to all the trouble of meeting her conditions only to have her disappear. And, underneath the other two, my Greek lineage had me wondering if Klotho, Atropos, and Lachesis weren't sending me another message, this time nudging me away from this choice. Being sensitive to these little vibes, I made up my mind to take one more run at locating Andi; I'd come downtown the next afternoon and, if she wasn't to be found, I'd move on and give my business to someone else.

I'd driven about a half mile up the avenue when a flash of familiar sapphire blue across the road caught my eye. Andi was descending from a city bus. I honked as I drove by only to have Andi turn and begin walking away. With the nearest turnaround four blocks away, it took some time to cross the boulevard, time Andi used to disappear.

After making several unsuccessful passes up and down the street, I decided the way Andi had vanished couldn't make the message any clearer, this one was over. On the way back to the freeway, I pulled into the parking lot of a local bar, intent on having a beer before I went back home to fuck the wife. Andi was sitting on the third stool, nursing a Jack and water, her mood as sour as the mash for her whiskey.

She apologized for not waiting for me. "I've got some personal problems and I wouldn't be good company now." Ordering her another drink, I said that sometimes the best thing you could do about your problems was talk to someone else about them. Joy shared is joy increased. Pain shared is pain dimished.

We moved to a booth, getting slightly hammered while she told me her story. Hearing her daughter Lateesha had taken sick, Andi had gone to see her kid only to have her estranged mate turn her away at the door.

Except for Mary, Andi's grandmother, Andi's family had all renounced her and, since in their opinion Andi wasn't a proper role model for her child, they had cut off all contact. The money Andi sent to Lateesha was funneled through Great-gramma Mary and the only time she got to she her child was when Mary babysat.

I agreed with Andi that it just wasn't fucking fair; that she loved her daughter as much as anyone else, that she should be able to see her daughter whenever she wanted, and through the front door, not sneaking around through the alley gate.

I told Andi that she was right that she shouldn't be ashamed of what she was and that she should be able to openly help support her daughter with the money she earned, no matter how she earned it. Money was money and it spent just as well if you got it in exchange for cleaning a house or for cleaning a man's pipes.

Before things got too maudlin, I told Andi of my decision, giving her the yellow form and asking if she was interested in making some more cash for Lateesha's school fund. With two quick swallows she finished her drink, slid out from her seat and walked toward the door. I left the rest of my beer behind as I scrambled to catch up.

Once in the car, Andi wasted no time continuing her lament about the way her family was treating her, pausing only long enough to take a hit from a joint she had pulled from her purse. When she passed it to me I thought what the hell and took a big drag. The shit was smooth, hookers do have the best drugs. By the time we pulled down the ramp to the back of the factory I had a very pleasant buzz on and Andi's mood had brightened dramatically.

She apologized for not being able to go to the apartment right away. She knew I was anxious to have her take it up the ass but her roommate was home and she didn't like to bring her customers there without telling her first. The feel of her fingers encircling my hard-on made me forget any disappointment I had at having to stay in the car.

To provide lubrication for her efforts she bent her head down, hovering about three inches above my cock, her open mouth allowing her saliva to slowly drool out, descending in a silvery string to spread along the head of my cock. As her hand picked up speed I took another hit from the joint and then blew the smoke back into her mouth, our tongues dueling as they met for the first time.

Laughing she pulled away from me and lowered the top of her dress. I dove for her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her Jai Ose as my tongue played "Indians and the Wagon Train" riding around in ever smaller circles until I captured her wrinkled cocoa nipple. I sucked at it as though it were a water spigot and I had just crawled in from the dessert.

Pushing me away, Andi's fingers returned to my cock, gently brushing against the sides, fleshy feathers drifting down to the base. Just as softly she moved her hand upwards, making little calming noises as I reached for her, the tips of her fingers lightly squeezing the head. Her hand retraced its way back down, her palm cupping my scrotum, rolling my balls around like a gambler caressing a pair of dice for luck before a throw.

Her nails wandered back and forth along the top of my groin, a jagged edge catching on a stray hair before returning to my tumescence. Nails scraping upwards left pale white lines in their wake, thin tracks which turned red within seconds. At the top she pinched the head, not hard enough to really hurt but hard enough to feel.

Then it was back to the base to restart the process, this time adding pressure to her touch. My universe centered on my groin and Andi's manipulations. Lazily she massaged my cock while I felt my balls fill with sperm, pre-come starting to ooze from the tip. Andi tightened her grip, slowly milking my dick, forcing more clear liquid from me. Now my pre-come was trickling freely down the shaft.

With the index finger of her free hand, Andi harvested the glistening fluid from the sides. When her finger reached the crown, she gave my dick one more milking, distributing the pre-come onto her finger like a line of toothpaste on a tooth brush. Smiling as she released her grip on my cock, Andi moved her finger to hover at the outer edge of my lips. "Come on honey, open up."

I looked at Andi in disbelief. She couldn't really want me to lick that finger clean. Jesus, what'd she think I was, some kind of a faggot?

"Don't be a baby Dave. I know you're curious about how it tastes. You've asked me often enough. Here's your chance to find out. It's just a little pre-come, it won't kill you." Appalled I shook my head no.

"Come on sweetie, do this for me. Here I'll even make it easier for you," she said as she wiped her finger against her nipple. "I know you like to suck on these tits. Just pretend they've got a little salad dressing on them."

Confused, I considered her offering. I did wonder what semen tasted like, just as I wondered what it would be like to suck a cock. A nipple coated with pre-come wasn't the real thing but it was a close as I wanted to get. It's not like I was actually sucking a cock for god's sake. And that wasn't really cum on her nipple. Why not experiment a little?

Taking another hit off the roach to bolster my courage, I leaned forward and, gingerly extending the tip of my tongue, made contact with her tit. Expecting to be repulsed, I found my pre-come had very little actual flavor. It was thick, just a shade below the consistency of glycerin, but what taste there was wasn't unpleasant. It certainly didn't taste like salad dressing, more like undercooked egg white than anything else. I enveloped the entire nipple with my mouth, my tongue lapping her clean. When I raised my head from her tit, Andi's thick finger found its way into my mouth, this time without protest.

"There ya go Dave. I knew you could do it. How'd you like it? Did it taste good? Want some more?" Busy licking the last remnants from the web between her finger and thumb, I could only grunt my approval. "Yeh, I thought you might like it. Be a good boy and later on you might get a taste of the real thing."

After inspecting my janitorial efforts and finding them acceptable, Andi returns her attention to my groin, dropping to her knees in the space between the two front seats. Dissatisfied with the space available, she had us move to the back; perching me on the seat so my balls dangle free in the air while she positions herself between my legs. The joint moved with us.

Her broad tongue began to lave my scrotum like a mother cat bathing a kitten. The touch of her without any intervening barrier felt wonderful. I took another hit of the weed. Strong arms tugged me forward, pulling my ass entirely off the seat; hunching over, I balanced on the small of my back. It was an uncomfortable position. Thick brown fingers pried my buttocks apart. Andi's moist warm breath started to play against the crack of my ass as her face descended, her tongue extruded outward. I took an involuntary breath, more of a gasp really, as her tongue began to swab my asshole. Impatient with the progress she was making, her lips attached themselves to my rosebud like a leech, sharp stabs of her tongue forcing an entry into my tight anal passage.

I shuddered with delight at the unexpected sensations this aroused in me, each thrust allowing her to delve deeper into my ass, each thrust giving a greater degree of pleasure. Uncritically, I allowed her to replace her tongue with first one finger then two. I gave myself completely over to Andi's ministrations. Eager student to her knowledgeable teacher, obedient tourist to her experienced guide; willing to learn what she wants me to learn, go where she wants me to go.

As her fingers began to fuck my ass, Andi's smooth mouth engulfed my dick. The humid heat of her oral cavity was glorious; each lollipop lick of my rod sending blue flames of tingling pleasure throughout my body; the wet slick sounds of her fingers and mouth mingling with my moans of excitement to fill the car.

Soon a third finger entered my ass to join its counterparts in their massage of my prostate. As the sensations threatened to overwhelm me I wondered what it would be like to have a real cock up there, to be buttfucked by a man in the same way I had sodomized so many women.

Reaching the crisis stage, my respiration came in short little pants, "huh -- huh -- huh." The feel of flesh against flesh instead of flesh against latex really was breathtaking. Recognizing the sound and what it meant, Andi pulled back on my cock until just the head was in her mouth. Then, instead of sliding up and down, she was rotating her entire head in a circle using my dick as the axis. I could feel my balls beginning to boil over and then I was shooting, wad after wad spurting from my dick into Andi's eager mouth. As the sperm continued to pour out I felt as a rapidly deflating blow-up doll must, shrinking with each spasm until finally I was as empty as an airless balloon.

But Andi still wasn't finished with me as she crawled her way up my body; her breasts rubbing themselves red against my khaki shirt; her cheeks distended like a chipmunk carrying its winter forage. Her head level with mine, she tilted to one side readying for a kiss. Obligingly I followed suit. Our lips met and began to dock, mine open, hers opening. Expecting her tongue, I was rewarded instead with my own sperm. I didn't pull away, remaining in place until Andi finished emptying her mouth into mine, the mixture of sperm and saliva covering the bottom of my mouth up to the top of my tongue.

Whether it was the dope, or the sensual spell Andi had placed on me, I wasn't not disgusted to find myself with a mouthful of my own seed. Thoughtfully I swirled it around while Andi watched, scrutinizing me like a horse player studying a tout sheet.

The taste shifted depending on which part of my tongue was asked. At times it was salty, at other times coppery. Like my pre-come, there was a hint of underdone egg white but the sperm seemed to have added an overtone of raw oysters. It wasn't an awful taste, at times it wasn't bad at all. You might even call it somewhat tasty, if you liked the taste of men's ejaculate.

As my throat worked up and down, Andi smiled as though she had just opened a package contained what she had wanted for Christmas. "So, how'd you like it Dave."

Trying to maintain my cool and regain some control of the situation, I gave an insouciant reply, "I'm not sure I'd want a steady diet of the stuff but an occasional mouthful in the course of some of our sexual gymnastics would be perfectly acceptable." It was the first time I'd heard Andi giggle, usually she had a booming laugh in the lower range of tones. This sound was high-pitched as though some tension was being released.

"Sexual gymnastics is right. Dave, if we're gonna keep this up either you've got to get a bigger car or we have to start going to my apartment."

Three days later, when once again I found myself looking for Andi, I felt like a serial killer. No, I wasn't out to murder a string of victims but I couldn't help thinking about all those movies; you know the ones I mean: Manhunter, Silence of the Lambs, Se7en and Tightrope. The killer is always on some sort of a strange cycle where the time between each killing gets shorter and shorter, a sure sign of their ongoing mental degradation. It was getting to be that way with me about Andi. My episodes used to take place six weeks or a month apart. Between those times I was perfectly content just having sex with my wife. Then I met Andi. Two weeks shrank into weekly. Weekly transformed itself into every third day. My desire for Andi was turning into a constant craving. I lusted after her delicious brown body the way a chocolate addict yearns for their daily Hershey bar.

Mind you, my wife wasn't suffering. Between bouts with my dusky houri I was banging my wife like a big bass drum. She even asked if I was taking some sort of herbal supplement. I couldn't tell her it was Andi I was taking, taking every chance I got.

This time Andi was walking her usual route. I had no trouble spotting her from several blocks away, her sapphire blue dress had burned itself in my mind. Sometimes a mere flicker of blue perceived in the corner of my eye could act like an azure lightening bolt, paralyzing my thought process, leaving me standing a zombie awaiting a command, conversation trailing off to disjointed mumbles. It was embarrassing, responding like one of Pavlov's dog to a learned stimulus, but yet it happened, happened repeatedly even in situations where I knew Andi couldn't possibly be present.

In the trashy romance novels my wife reads the characters are always "burning with the flame of their desire," or "drawn to each other like a Morning Glory to the sun," or some other such nonsense. But there was no denying my lust for Andi had become a major component of my psyche. My infatuation was starting to become an obsession. I craved Andi the same way a repentant sinner craves absolution and for much the same reason.

I'm not a religious person, at least not in the sense of organized religion. The hellfire and damnation services I attended in my youth seemed to me to be more the work of a devil who wanted to pit people against each other for his own purposes than the wishes of a loving deity responsible for the creation of each and every one of us. But I understood the basic principles of religion, including the notion of absolution. And that's what Andi provides me. Not absolution, most organized religions would hold our actions to be mortal sins, but the sense of acceptance and inner peace that's said to follow absolution.

I had a short moment of panic when another car rolled slowly by my girl but the driver must of had poor taste because he drove away without issuing an invitation. Stupid bastard, I thought to myself smugly, he doesn't know a good thing when he sees one.

When she got in the car Andi gave me the good news, her roommate was gone for the day. Finally, after all the waiting, her ass was mine.

Andi's apartment was about three blocks east of the avenue. She and her roommate shared apartment 12 on the third floor at the front of the building. The elevator was out of order, forcing us to walk up the stairs.

I made Andi go ahead of me, not only to lead the way but to allow me to watch her ass move in the tight confines of her blue dress. Each step she took upward was marked by a corresponding increase in my level of sexual excitement. I didn't think I could get any harder, hell the last time I was this hard I was 16 years old getting my first handful of bare tit.

Once inside the apartment I took Andi into my arms, my hands mauling her ass. She broke our embrace, dropping to her knees and rubbing her face against my erection, I started to pull off her frock, only to be stopped by her request "to slip into something more comfortable before you ruin my dress."

While she changed, I stripped determined not to wait any longer than I had to to sink my cock deep into her nether channel. There would be no foreplay, I wanted raw, primitive sex. I wanted to chastise Andi for making me wait by driving my dick into her ass and hearing her make those sounds whose descriptions had tempted and taunted me for weeks.

Andi returned to the room, dressed in a satin slip the same solid shade of blue as her dress. The slip was cut low in the back, with high slits on each side. She looked carrying with her a small woven basket of condoms and lubricants which she set on a small table next to the couch in the middle of the room.

Andi sensed my desire and acted on it, walking around to the rear of the aptly-named "love seat" then leaning over, moving her legs back and her feet apart, presenting her ass for my pleasure. I untied the cross-straps of her slip, allowing both the material and her tits to dangle over the couch's back toward the front cushions. An flip of blue cloth and the object of my longing finally revealed itself to my gaze.

By now I was so hard I hurt but, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't just ram it in. For one thing, my level of excitement was so high I'd probably spurt all over her the minute my cock came in contact with the cheeks of her ass. For another, Andi deserved better than a "ram and jam, the hell with you mam" fuck. So I did the unexpected.