My 9-year OD anniv. & plans w/18yo preggo hooker

I have a *date* for sex next week with the 8 1/2-months-along 18yo. I phoned her today and it was great to hear her voice, as I’d been concerned of late about her lack of interaction on the working girl review boards. Good to know that she is still healthy, fully pregnant, and ready to pop.

She tells of almost having the baby-to-be’s living quarters ready to receive her, and she feels that she is right where she wants/needs to be in terms of family and support.

Next week she will be ensconced in a cheap motel of the variety which will rent to an 18yo who lacks a credit card. I will dial her phone number at the appointed hour and then visit her for an encounter that will surely be quite memorable.

The more prominent her pregnant bulge, the better. That’s how I feel. It will be fun as well to witness the further evolution of her ripe, young breasts toward the full of their milk-delivering purpose.

I’m sure her soft, young pussy will be as inviting as ever, if also less accessible given the lowering of the baby in preparation for delivery in what should be about three weeks now.

Her approachable demeanor was evident quite clearly on the phone this evening and there is a certain sincerity to her words that just doesn’t emit from the average 18yo out there.

I have as my intention to ask just who it was who got her started in the sex trade. I think she’ll likely tell me it was her ex boyfriend and father of the child, but I don’t know this.

Most of my anticipation over the evening comes with the image of laying behind her in a spooning position with my arm draped around her and my hand gently massaging her ample bump. Sure her teenage goodies will be ripe and prominent in every way, but I am so enamored of her gentle, non-skittish personality.

I only wish I could measure the joy of anticipation I am going to feel during the next week.

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While responding to notes today I noticed that it was nine years ago today that I penned my first entry at OD. I don’t have any fantastic celebratory entry planned, and can’t think of too many topics to add to such a celebration either.

I can say that I was out cruising for hookers a great deal a couple of nights ago, and that despite having seen many of them out plying their trade, I simply did not connect with or pick-up any of them. It seems that once I get myself in the frame of mind to go out to seek a paid sexual encounter, the vibe feeds upon itself, and my search becomes intense. Somehow I still usually adhere to some amount of standards and am not quick to give in to a flashed pair of tits by a woman attempting to drum-up some business for her cold curbside pussy.

Someday I hope to encounter the street-walking prostitute who has instincts that agree with my roving ideas of what they should be in the cat-and-mouse game that is Johns trying to pick-up hookers while all the while dodging the ever-present eye and long arm of the law.

To cower away in the shadows is great when the passing vehicle has rooftop lights and sirens, whether presently engaged or not. It just doesn’t make sense to cower away into the dark corners when prospective sex buyers are cruising your street. Somehow they mustn’t come on too strong, or seem too aloof. I long for a poised and confident stance by a hooker who knows the appeal to her sex for sale yet who, later, shows a clear understanding of the void in areas of positive human interaction that plagues so many of her could-be customers.

Far too many of the working girls I saw on the strip a couple of nights ago were perched in the dark shadows, and I wasn’t intrigued enough to get out of the car for a close walk-by. The ones I saw from close range usually intimidated me, so they didn’t quite fit the bill either.

So I made a long-delayed return to a strip club, and it really proved to be an evening of the same old song and dance where I can immediately identify the woman whose poise and presence made me sure that hers was the soft and feminine ass I wanted grinding down on my clothed erection back in the private couch dancing area. As is always the case with that scenario, after 90 minutes of having been perched in the same seat at the strip club, virtually every other woman in attendance there (save for the pair of {lesbian?} girlfriends who were dressed nicely among the paying crowd) had come to invite me to have a dance but the one I fancied most from about the fourth stage show I saw during the evening.

This repeat scenario happened to have a happy ending (well, more than one, actually) when, soon after she got down from a stage show, the young woman noticed my intrigue over her and came back to see about my interest in her. She looked quite petite on stage, yet I was surprised later to learn that she weighed as much as 135 pounds. Ten years of soccer during her youth gave her strong and muscular legs with which I later got to familiarize my hands.

Her symmetrical-yet-approachable face was framed by wavy dark hair and lots of it. Her breasts were small handfuls which exuded youthful perkiness. I told her that the last ten or twelve pounds of her 135 went to just the right places and had turned her into a sexual gold mine. She stunned me by sharing that she had lost 20 pounds during the last few months.

The best angle on her physicality was from behind, where the gentle curves of her rib cage gave way to a trim waist before expanding to form the outline for what was a lust-inducing young woman’s bottom. This was not someone with full hips whose stride draws attention for no other reason. This was the 21-year-old ass of someone whose body had the newly-discovered definition one might expect to find in a budding teenager. Her skin was mostly soft, and not particularly firm, but those leg muscles were hard and very unique.

As we approached the private dance enclosure she treated me like a gentleman, almost a beau (just at the prospects of money, no doubt). We sat down and I expressed much of what I’d been thinking about her all evening long… and she was warm and receptive to most of it. Soon our couch dances commenced and she was not shy about sharing her clothed charms with me.

I’d prepared earlier in the usual way and had condom in place in order to contain any mess there was to be had. The young dancer became more and more friendly with each passing song, as is the norm. Finally, when I could sense myself on the verge of the sought orgasm, I suggested that on the next song she might place her soft and grabbable ass right in my lap and help me reach my goal.

She was willing to oblige, and as things heated up toward the crescendo I gripped her hips and clutched her soft form to my groin and slowly filled my condom with the fruits of her $160. And yes, I could have actually had sex with any of a number of girls on the strip for that, but I just had an interest in seeing the sights in a strip club again and for the first time in a long while.

There were as usual quite a number of girls, many of which were plying me with their suggestive touches and whispered somethings in an attempt to draw me to the private dance area. More than one hand was right on my clothed crotch, while more than one woman afforded a not-so-subtle look down the valley of her cl

eavage. Some assured me that they gave the most naughty dances of all of the girls present that night, but I never opted to find out for sure. The dances I received were quite enough for the likes of me.

And now, just so I can get this in officially on the 9th anniversary of my time here at OD, I’m going to start trying to post the entry a few minutes early.

Nine years at Open Diary has been a most invigorating experience. Hopefully others have enjoyed it too!