Barbara, Girl of the streets

Back about 1980, I was living in a large harbor city on the east coast. I was young, dumb, and full of cum, single and over 21. I was also a young pervert, living in the big city with money in my pocket for the first time in my life. There was lots to enjoy in those more sexually free days – adult bookstores, gloryholes, adult theaters, strip joints, and prostitutes. I took advantage of all of them. This is the story of a lady named Barbara I met and enjoyed during that period.

There was a downtown area on the waterfront, the kind of place that had gone seedy in those days of urban decay, before yuppies discovered loft space and quaint old storefronts, and gay men moved in to turn bohemian into money. There was a shipyard there, with a large blue-collar workforce, and the downtown had a good stock of cheap bars, adult bookstores where they mopped out the booths every few hours, and….. hookers. They were there in all shapes and sizes, and there was no problem finding a young lady to haul your ashes for a few bucks if you were in the mood.

One not-unusual evening, I went downtown cruising for some quick sex. The drill was to cruise the stroll, about 4 blocks long, until you saw what you wanted. Then you’d make eye contact, turn onto a side street, and the girl would come to your car. I’d been alternately cruising the blocks, then stopping into one of the bars for a quick drink for about an hour.