Raw pussy. Say your prayers and say hello.

Try the pussy raw again, and you might find yourself somewhere you don’t like. If you do, say hello – I arrived a while ago. It’s not the pussy. Oh no. Dipping your skin into that slick silkiness without that antiseptic barrier is more inviting and exciting than ever. The flesh and the friction. A channel open. This isn’t plastic. This is wet and warm. This is fucking. Fuck latex. Fuck all, actually. Because while you’re dropping your guard on STDs and ovulation, you’ll be dropping your guard in every respect. That’s how I found myself a few weeks ago at a hotel so shitty that “shitty” can’t describe it. It was so bad that the manager insisted on showing me the shitty room before taking my money. It was so shitty that the neighbor’s laundry was littering the walk and the parking space outside her door. And she was the classy one. The others loitering in the parking lot looked like drug dealers, drug addicts, pimps and prostitutes. My upscale car and my white collar clothes marked me as the mark. I paid for the room because I had a feeling she didn’t bring any condoms. There was no second choice hotel because she’d made clear her time was limited. Most of all, she was slim and youngish – just my type. In the uptight club where my dick can’t leave my pants, she’d told me straight up: “Her hole is really tight.” We were going to fuck. We did. Though I’m going to have to teach her how to give a blowjob, the slide into her tight hole was sublime. My car was intact an hour later. No one threatened me even though it now was dark. I’m going to fuck her again. It will be another hotel. Not repeating that risk. Next time will be a different one. The raw pussy requirement didn’t begin like this. As I’ve described previously on this site (https://tuscl.net/article.php?id=57287), my first came unexpectedly via a gorgeous Latina in a classy club. We were in a private room, and she was doing as other girls had: Rubbing her panties over my engorged cock, occasionally pulling the fabric aside to tease my swollen head with her wetness. I told her to make me come, which she did. Except at that very moment she impaled herself on my pulsing dick. I pulled her off, but the seed was planted. The next time was in a nasty closet in a last-resort club with a sleazy girl. She had sucked my dick there many times. She had champion tits and began this time as she did most, offering big boobs to my mouth while pulling on my hardening dick. It didn’t hardly register that she was rubbing my head against her slit. She often did that too. Only this time she plunged it in. in a second, I had glorious tits in my mouth and a glorious pussy pressed down to the hilt. So we fucked. In time I’d take many girls back to the same nasty closet. In time, I’d no longer care what they looked like. Not younger or slim? Don’t care if she’ll fuck me raw. Want to feel my purple head pressing for entry. Want to feel the juices starting to run down my shaft. Want to see that little cleft stretch. Want to cum inside. More nasty hotels for girls who got fired from the bar. More chances taken. One time one girl had me pick her up at her shabby house. I thought the plan had been to fuck there. Honestly, I was relieved not to have to go inside what looked like a squatters' squat. Instead the plan was a parking lot and the car. This explained her sweat pants. At least the change would be quick. Her choice was a fairly well-lit lot with a fair amount of traffic. We were far from the action but exposed nonetheless. Down went her pants. Up went my dick. My job included watching for police. Came inside. More recently, I found myself in small-town America and its small-town strip club. It was late and one of the girls needed a ride home. She asked me could I drive her. I had a feeling I was more likely to get what I wanted out of the club than in. We hadn’t gone a mile when she pitches. Says she needs money to pay the electric bill. I’m genuinely unsure in part because she’s a nutjob and in part because I have no idea where I am in this town. I don’t know. Then the threshold is crossed when she says $60 for a blowjob. I pull behind a dark auto repair shop, stop the car between two junky vans and hit the back seat. her mouth is on my cock in a flash. It’s good, but my mind won’t let go. How about fucking me for $100, I say. She hops up and pulls down her pants in a couple of hasty moves. No hesitation. Nor does she hesitate with bare dick pointing eagerly at her bare quim. She mounts only to find resistance. She grabs the shaft and works the head slowly into her opening until it’s wet enough for long strokes and hip. As my balls are draining, she tells me I’m going to want more of that tight pussy. I do. Except my pants are around my ankles, my dick is still hard and I am in a dark, dangerous junkyard where anyone could have been watching, waiting and God knows what. What’s the smart thing to do? Don’t ask me. I’m likely to be driving through that area in a few weeks, so I’ll look for her again. I’ll take chances for raw pussy. If you do too, say your prayers and say hello. I’m here already – risk, reward, and all that.