Author: Wade Mondegam, Copyright © 1997 Master Wade.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. The author may be contacted through mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

There are times for any single man, and probably single women as well, when, to put it in the vernacular, he can't get laid to save his ass. I'm sure there are any number of logical reasons for such a low period in someone's life, but whatever they are the road out of this valley of despair sometimes means trying something different.

This line of thinking led me to place an ad in the personal's section of a local newspaper. I debated several approaches, finally deciding that the tried and true ad most often seen was probably most often seen because it was most successful. My ad ran as follows:

DWM, 45, ISO S/W/DWF for friendship founded on trust, good humor, and good times. Tired of the bar scene and shallow people with shallow minds? So am I. Contact me for intelligent conversation, quiet dinners for two, or carefree romps on the beach or in the mountains.

I know...they're a dime a dozen. Still, there is something about such ads which appeals to women of good taste and upbringing.

They reveal the man posting such an ad as caring, fun-loving and practical. Right?

Maybe so. But in this case, at least, what the ad didn't do was generate a response. Not one. Posting the ad in the first place was not something I was particularly happy about doing, but for it to fail so miserably was even more depressing. Finally, I used all my intelligence and patient resolve and just said, "Fuck it!"

The result of this new avenue of thinking led me to post another ad, one which followed a slightly different tack.

Man who goes where he wants, when he wants, to do whatever he wants, looking for a girl half my age to do it with. Must be slim, have long legs and a prominent pubis. Those unsure about what a prominent pubis is are especially encouraged to respond. No IQ tests given. Bring $4.95 for a burger, and half a bikini to room 122, Days Inn, Miller View Drive, on April 15 at 9:00 PM (That's at night).

Luckily for me, the proof-reader at the paper was among those who didn't know what a prominent pubis was. She did ask why I said to bring only half a bikini, but accepted my explanation that I was not a demanding person.

I booked the room at the Days Inn and arrived there about an hour early. I didn't exactly expect to be over-run with respondents, but then I hadn't been before either. I told myself that the process had some value as a study in human nature if nothing else. And, there was always a chance that the proof-reader would show up. She was no doll, but it would be interesting to see which half of the bikini she brought.

Miracle of miracles, at six minutes past nine there was a knock on the door. I went to the door, half expecting that I had left my lights on in the car or something, only to find a truly delightful young woman standing there. "Hi," she said, smiling and sticking out her hand to me. "I'm here in response to your ad in the personal's section."

I stood there for a moment, feeling as if I should pinch myself, and then growing increasingly suspicious of this young lady's intent. Would she flash a badge on me and take me downtown?

Or was she a rep from NOW who would see me in court or make sure my name made the front page? Slowly I took her hand and looked past her to see if there was a van outfitted with cameras and sound equipment nearby, or even worse, a black limo with some guy named

Mike leaning against it with his arms crossed. Her hand was soft, and she carried a small paper sack, so I figured she just might be the real thing. I let her in. "I'm glad you came," I said, my voice betraying none of the understatement the comment was laced with. "Me too," she said, sitting her bag down on the table. "You're kinda cute. And hey," she said, excitedly, "do I have to be exactly half your age? You didn't say how old you were, so I wasn't sure whether to come or not." "How old are you?", I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, and motioning for her to sit if she liked. "I'm nineteen," she said, hopefully. "Amazing!", I said, barely able to contain myself. "You're exactly half my age!" "Really? How old are you?", she asked. I figured the gig was up. "I'm 45," I replied, somehow unable to lie. "Isn't that something? I guess we were meant to be," she said, tossing her blonde hair and crossing her legs.

I breathed a sigh of relief and patted myself on the back for deciding not to require the IQ test.

It was about this time that success got the best of me. Either there was some huge misunderstanding here, or I was in for a really good time. The girl was truly lovely, so lovely that it was hard to believe I might just be screwing her before the night was out. "What's in the bag?", I asked, finally, not sure where to take this quite yet. "Oh, I stopped by Macdonalds. I figured I'd just go ahead and get the burger. And," she blushed slightly, "what you said to bring is in there too. You know...the bikini part." "Can I see?", I asked. "Sure, it's just a plain ole burger with mustard and...oh!"

She said, grinning, "You mean can you see the other thing. I'm so silly sometimes. I guess I'm a little bit nervous too." "That's okay, I'm nervous too. You're much prettier than I thought you would be." "Aww, you're sweet," she said, and fished in the bag, removing its contents. She lay the burger on the table and then brought out a tiny little scrap of material. "I hope this is okay," she said, holding it up so that I could see it. "I didn't know which half you wanted, but I lost the top at the beach last summer, so I brought this."

Obviously the girl was frugal and slow to throw things away.

I like that in a girl. "That's perfect," I said, smiling. It really was. There was almost nothing to it, and I knew it must look wonderful on her. "Can I see you in it?" "Sure. Is it okay if I change in the bathroom?", she asked.

The logic of that escaped me, but I wasn't about to complain.

A moment or two later she came out, the little scrap of material clinging to her body tightly and only barely covering the subject. Her breasts were splendid, firm and full, not too big, not too small, with ripe little nipples that could only be described by saying that they "pooshed out". She walked over to me and turned in front of me gleefully, her tight little ass jiggling as she allowed me the whole view. "So, do I have one?", she asked.

I was a little confused. She wasn't lacking anything that I could see. "I'm sorry...do you have one what?", I asked. "One of those things you said in the ad. The two p words.

Something about a prom?"

I laughed in spite of myself. "Ohhhhh, a prominent pubis!" "Yes, that," she said, her face clouding a little. I had embarassed her.

I looked at her pubis, struggling to be covered by the little scrap of white material. "Well, I think so, but I really can't tell unless you take that off." I nodded at her bikini bottom. "Oh. Okay. Then can I take it off so you can check?", she asked, her eyebrows wrinkling a little. "Yes, please do," I said. I really was beginning to wish I had a witness for all of this.

She slid the bikini bottom off quickly, showing no hesitation at all. Stepping out of it, she held it and put both hands on her hips. "So...what do you think?", she asked.

I know that things like this just don't happen, but in spite of that, the girl DID have a prominent pubis. Her pubic hair was fine and lighter in color even than the long tresses which hung in such delightful disaray on her head. It did nothing to hide the protruding bulge of her sex. Her little mound pushed out at me with a quick rise from the crevices where her thighs met her hips, and her swollen vulva could be seen through the gap in her legs. It was a textbook prominent pubis if ever there was one. "It's perfect," I said, satisfaction written all over my face. "It's the prettiest prominent pubis I have ever been priviledged to peruse," I promised. "Huh?", she said, wrinkling her nose. "It's wonderful, precious," I said. "It's so wonderful that it's giving me a protruding penis." "Well, I know what that is," she said, smiling sexily. "Good girl. So, how about I poke my protruding penis in your prominent pubis passionately?""

She giggled. "That sounds like Peter Piper pecked a pick of peppled pep...I mean, Peter Piper picked..."

I interrupted her by standing and pulling her to me, kissing her lips softly, my hands exploring her delicious young body. She was instantly hot, moaning as we kissed, her arms wrapping themselves around my neck. Suddenly I was no longer the aggressor, and she had me out of my clothes in no time, pausing only to kiss the parts of my body that she exposed as she went. I fell back to the bed, almost in shock, my pulsating pecker proudly protuberant and perilously peaking.

This delightful young girl sat on me, lowering herself onto me with just the right mixture of hesitation and resolve as I slid into her. Inch by inch she enveloped me, until her swollen mound was pressed against me fully. She leaned back, making her delightful breasts lift and push outward, her nipples begging to be toyed with. My hands moved to her breasts, twirling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger as she worked back and forth on me.

Her expertise was unexpected and it drove me quickly to orgasm.

Luckily, she was not far behind me, and only moments later we collapsed in each other's arms. "Whew," she said, still panting, "you are a felicitous fellow whose fornication is both feverish and fantastic." "Huh?", I asked, my eyes opening widely. "Does it matter that I'm not quite the dumb blonde I appeared to be at first?", she asked, kissing me on the cheek.

I shook my head slowly. I had been had. Then again....

The End