Heather Brown - Hot and wild wife

But, still, despite my paranoia, I was fascinated by the whole experience of prowling the city's mean streets. I'd never known such sights and sounds existed.

Cars passed and I was offered rides, but I always declined. A lot of the drivers were attractive, especially a razor-thin pitch-black bull-dyke who offered to eat my pussy, but I kept on going, searching for some new experience that I hoped would liberate me from frustration.

In fact, perhaps it was because there were so many offers that I steadfastly said no. It was all getting to be too easy. Anybody could just lay back, spread their legs and fuck. It took a real woman to do more, to look for the real sexual challenge.

Craving my sexual summit, I went further into the city, walking the streets looking for something I couldn't describe. The neighborhoods started to thin as I approached a commercial district. The streets were teeming with life.

My eyes bugged out at the scantily clad women walking up and down the street and lounging in doorways. Hookers! With their tits practically falling out, and either miniskirts just covering their crotches, or hot pants caught up their cracks.

Incongruously dotting the seedy landscape, expensively dressed businessmen from uptown solicited them before they went home to their homes in the suburbs. As I watched such a conversation from across the street, I imagined what they were saying.

"How much for a straight lay?"

"Twenty. Ten more if you want me in the ass."

"How much to swallow my cum?"

On and on it went in my mind as I strolled through the sordid paradise. As my thighs brushed together while I was walking I could feel them getting itchy. Something was stirring in my crotch.

After the hookers, a series of seedy dives spilled all over a couple of blocks called The Strip. The air reeked of grass and whiskey and rock music as the joints blared their smells and sounds out onto the street.

I looked inside one and saw a naked girl dancing on the bar, her pussy being eaten out be a drunk patron. The rest of the place was going wild, cheering him on. She practically sat on his face, enveloping him with her hairy cunt.

The twitching in my groin increasing, I walked on. In an alley I saw a girl not out of her teens on her knees giving a drunk a blow-job. He was so smashed he could hardly stand up, but he still came like a geyser in her mouth. Cum dripped from her freckled face as she turned around toward me when I walked by.

My pussy jumped when I saw her angelic face sticky with sperm. My instinct told me that what was waiting around the corner might even be better.

Suddenly I walked into darkness. Apparently my intuition had failed me for the first time. The block around the corner from The Strip seemed desolate.

But I walked down it despite my misgivings, unable to stop trusting my impulses no matter how bleak the immediate prospects seemed. Behind me I could hear the diminishing din of the honky-tonks, the mingled roar of rock'n'roll mingled with shouts of "Take it off".

Ahead of me there seemed only bleakness. Probably I'd entered the warehouse district, a no-man's land of seediness. But, still, I kept walking, some inexplicable force driving me on.

A block and a half later I stopped to get my bearings. The rowdy sounds of the joints were now a tinny whisper as the night started to close in. I put my collar around my ears, trying to ward off the fog starting to roll in.

Then, as I started to move on, the click of my heels was accompanied by a soft squishing noise. I stopped, cursing that I had probably stepped on some dog shit.

But when I looked, my shoes were clean. And, besides, the squishing was in the air again and I wasn't moving.

It wasn't coming from the sidewalk or the street. I looked toward the building on my left as the only alternative source. I hadn't noticed it before, but there was a doorway there. Focusing at it through the misty air, I moved slowly toward it as the squishing sound increased in intensity, turning to slurping.

There were two people in the doorway. Yes, I could definitely make them out. One of them was crouching.

No, he was on his knees.

Five steps closer and I saw why. He was sucking another man's cock!

"Oh, Bruce," I heard a deep voice moan, "suck me… suck me hard… suck me until I come."

Fags!

I ran down the street, confused and upset. Stopping to catch my breath, I suddenly came upon the sight of the pale moons of somebody's ass being split with along, stiff prick.

The ass was hairy. A man's ass.

Skirting the two guys cornholing, I crashed against the garbage cans they were hiding behind and ran out into the middle of the street. No sooner had I stopped than I suddenly had to move again, this time for my life. A pair of headlights came out of nowhere, moving straight toward me.

Finally I fell to the pavement and rolled over to the gutter, watching a car rumble over the exact spot where I'd been standing.

Thea it stopped at the opposite curb, about fifty yards down the street. The lights dimmed off… then on… then off again, like the driver was making a signal.

I watched with fascination as the blinking headlights suddenly drew a small crowd of men around the car. Where had they come from? I realized they had to have been just sitting and waiting for something like this.

Then, abruptly, the door to the car swung open. One of the men in the street got inside and the car went down the block with its lights still off and parked. When the men in the street disappeared, I moved in the darkness toward the car, determined to see what was going on inside.

As I pressed my nose against the window, my eyes filled with the image of a man's cock sliding in and out of another man's mouth.

I bolted upright and reeled as though I'd been slugged. More fags.

There was no doubt about it – I'd wandered into the city's notorious homosexual cruising zone concealed by the darkness, fruits were probably all around me, fondling and sucking pricks.

I felt like a total alien. I should have sprinted back up toward the honky-tonks and got some guy to throw a quick old-fashioned fuck in me to purge myself of this experience. I probably could have even cleared twenty bucks or so out of such a retreat.

But, for some reason, I couldn't move. I stood rooted to the street, feeling something brewing within me.

Why was I doing this? Standing here in the middle of a dark jungle of queers, the only person with a cunt? What was in it for me? My pussy, the thing that made most men become a walking hard-on, was a curse in this environment. Did I want to be humiliated?

Then, as I found myself in the glare of a newly approaching set of headlights, it came to me. It was the challenge. It was the challenge that was turning me on. The challenge of performing the impossible. Now I knew why my intuition had led me down this desolate street.

Suddenly I was determined to do it. To accept the challenge. To fuck a queer. To make him love my pussy!

Before the approaching car could stop and attract the others, I ran up beside it and grabbed hold of the open window, my hair stuffed down my collar so the driver couldn't tell I was a girl. "Mister… mister," I called through the window. "Let me suck your cock."

"How much?" he asked as he stopped the car.

"For free," I said. Then I improvised. "The others are after me. They want to beat me up because I'm willing to suck cocks for nothing."

He leaned over and the front door opened on the passenger side. I ran around the rear of the car so he couldn't see I wasn't a boy and jumped inside, subtly shielding my face.

Once the door was closed, he switched off his headlights and drove until he turned the corner. Pulling over to the curb on a narrow side street, he switched off the engine and reached for me.