L.A. After Dark by R. Mendosa My leave is almost over. I've managed to fuck Anna twice; I've seen most of my old friends; but mostly, I've just been hanging around the house. I am getting anxious about what lies ahead of me after I leave L.A. I want to break out of my old life and get on with my journey. Fortunately, my best friend Phil, breaks my lethargy by inviting me out with him after he gets off work on Saturday night. Phil picks me up in his dark blue 51 Mercury pussy car. We smoke a joint and then head downtown. We have heard of Fifth and Central as a place to pick up whores. I have never been with a whore, so I have no idea what to expect. I have read about whores, but they've been romantic ones like Robert E. Lee Pruitt's whore, played by Donna Reed in the movie From Here to Eternity. I guess, that depiction, of whores, was underdone in the movie; but James Jones' book didn't help me out either. I just could not imagine the give-and-take socializing of the New Congress Club as a required prelude to getting fucked. Who needs that? We cruise around Fifth and Central, going around the block several times, seeing some *negras*, black women, who could be whores, looking out at the cars driving by. They don't appeal to us, so we keep on cruising. We spot a young good looking woman. Phil slows down and pulls up to the curb. She knows that we are interested because just as Phil rolls down his window and has barely started to utter "How much," the whore speaks. "Five and one for the room." The whore is nice looking up close, even more enticing than from a distance. I wonder, as Phil parks the car, if we are both going to fuck her? She is waiting for us and guides us into the hotel that she apparently works out of. There is an older *negra* leaning against the wall, looking at us, fingering her pussy through her dress. "Do you want her?" the younger whore asks me. Seeing my negative head movement, the young girl transmits to the older whore via body language the news that she is not desired by me. "I got a hot pussy," the old whore says to me, as we pass, looking directly into my eyes, suggestively licking her thick lips. "A really good hot pussy," she reiterates. For a moment, I wonder if I am not passing up something good. But, she looks too used up, too old, probably over 40, for me. After Anna's fine sixteen year old body, I want someone a little better looking than a tired old Negro whore. I look over at the young whore, but I realize that because Phil is driving, he expects to be allowed the choice of the cathouse litter, and I agree, even if we have not discussed it. He is driving. It is simple courtesy. Then mine arrives, wearing a business suit. She could be a school teacher, or something like that. She doesn't look like a whore. I like that. She is about 30, maybe more. I can't tell age. I am too young; I think that 30 is old. But, she isn't bad looking. She is about 5'5, maybe as much as 145 pounds, with dark skin, the way I want a *negra* to look. I am not interested in an African woman that looks white. She has decent size lips too, African lips, but not ugly, and an African nose, but again not ugly. Just African right. I agree to go with her. In the hotel room, she takes off her skirt, but leaves the top of her suit on. She is an efficient business woman, I guess. Maybe she figures that because I am young I am going to blow my wad in a minute, so why bother removing the top? In a way, I don't mind that she leaves on her top because it kind of reminds me of fucking Anna with her dress on. I won't get to suck her black tits, but I like the idea of sex with clothes on. There is an aspect about it that appeals to me. She lays back on the bad, spreads her dark thick thighed legs and calls to me, "Come on honey, I'm ready for you." I take off my trousers and am amazed that I do not have a hardon. Obviously, there is something about this situation that is keeping me deflated. I have the urge, in my mind to fuck her, but my cock is saying otherwise. Being an experienced girl, she reaches to me, playing with my cock with her brown fingers, urging me to get between her legs. I move myself onto my knees between between her split thighs. She massages my prick, and in a few seconds I have achieved a reasonable though not terribly exciting hardness. She pulls me into her, gripping my cock like a short hose, and sticks me in. I thrust at her, feeling my cock inside of her pussy, and my tan belly slaps against her dark one. I lean on my hands, and watch my cock fucking into her kinky haired pussy. I am mildly astounded that I am not feeling that same wonderful overwhelming eroticism that I had felt a few days earlier with Anna. "I'm cumming" she says but I just know that she isn't. I have read about whores saying those things, but I still find it incredible that they can be so stupid to say those things. But, I am hearing it, so I am wrong about that. Maybe some guys like it. But, I don't; in fact I think that it makes me even less hard. It takes me a long time to cum, but she is a dedicated worker, and sticks to it until I gush. I collapse on top of her clothed breasts where she lets me rest for a moment. "Honey, I got to get up." I get off of her. As she walks away, legs bowed, one hand between her thighs, stemming the flow, I see, between the crack of her big chocolate ass cheeks, my semen dripping from the curly hair. It's a sight that I know I will never forget. Totally worth the price of admission, the phony "I'm cumming," and the black tits I never got to suck. This night will remain a night I will never regret, a night I will always remember, a moment in dark L.A. when my white cum oozed from a Negro whore's pussy. *** stories by RAM.