OA-117 The Sex Procurer by Roger Hornsby


Chapter 1 


If I am different from other men, it is only a matter of degree. I like 
sex. Show me the man who doesn't. But how I get my sex is another 
thing; and what I do with it is also something else. I won't con you 
that I'm an innocent guy when it comes to getting fucked. I'm willing 
to do anything to get a lay. Sometimes I can be damned devious. The 
main thing is the lay.

Oh, I don't stop at the lay, either. I want something more than that. 
It's not just enough to know I've succeeded in lining up a fuck. I want 
to go further. I want to make sure that my mark is hooked on the stuff 
for good. There's nothing that pleases me better, for instance, than to 
know that a girl I've fucked ends up craving cock the rest of her life. 
That really turns me on. It makes everything I do worthwhile. 

How did I get this way? Who knows? I only know I just happen to be this 
way. Oh, I suppose if I really looked into myself, I could see where it 
began. All I know is that I started out like most guys, just wanting to 
know all I could about cunt. After awhile though, I developed like I am 
now. It takes time-for all things.

I remember when I first got the idea of preying on somebody. That's 
right: preying. I even thought of it that way. I was only sixteen at 
the time, but I already knew what I wanted to do. There was this pissy 
cunt, fifteen, and her name was Wanda, and she lived next door to us, 
and she thought her shit didn't stink. She was new in the neighborhood 
and she thought she was better than everybody else. Well, I decided to 
make her, just to put her in her place.

I wasn't a big guy, even then; just average in size and not too good-
looking. Oh, I wore my hair slick, and all that. But I didn't have much 
to travel on. Except I had a mean cock, even then. All my life I've had 
the kind of cock that stands up and does its own talking. And I counted 
on my cock to do a lot of talking with that cunt.

And she was a beautiful doll, too, let me tell you. A big-boned blonde, 
she had real sexy lips and the kind of eyes you call "smoky" or 
"bedroom." And knockers? Like nobody's business. Knockers and hips and 
ass and legs to stop Mack Trucks. She was a solid big bitch of the 
first order.

But she didn't screw. That's the truth. The bitch was cherry at 
fifteen, and I wanted to smash that cherry like you smash the atom. 
Well, I wasn't alone. A lot of other guys wanted to make out, too. Her 
front step was like a bitch dog had peed on it. All the males in the 
neighborhood were lined up and hanging around.


End of Page 1. See oa-117.txt for full story.