I love to canvas the dark streets at night, looking for women who are selling their s***** favors on the corner. Some johns race across 2 or 3 lanes of traffic to stop right in front of a b**** young lass who might s*** his d*** until he spunks in her mouth, but I prefer to drive around less conspicuously, around and around the block, making sure of every clue that might suggest that her warm mouth is what I want. I survey the many alternatives, not so often measuring by cup size or any such thing. Instead I carefully assess how alert and lucid each starlet might be, usually opting in due time for a working girl who is especially approachable and engaging. (rather than those statuesque stunners who have been ogled all their lives, and whose personalities long ago considered that they don’t wish to be around too many people)

I love warming-up in the front seat of my car with my hands invited to fondle tender breasts, before I eventually tilt the seat back, and bring down my pants to expose my eager erection to the honey of the evening.

She is all too willing to take my s****** in her warm mouth while gliding her hand along my shaft as I pulsate in response. Soon I can feel the e********** building in my loins and at that moment I might reach to cup her firm and accessible t*** as I build to my pinnacle.

Eventually my hips are thrusting as her mouth receives each successive step while I ascend to s***** climax. Soon my baby gravy is bursting toward her throat as she hurriedly gulps it down so as not to dwell for too long on the salty bitterness.

I catch my breath as I pause to hoist my underwear from the floorboards, and then I tug at my pants while readying to return this new c** receptacle to her corner. While driving home I might pause at the ‘island’ of a gas station to deposit my c**-infested tissues into the trash bin there.

Another successful night out driving the local stroll.