I confess that I am a sex addict. I have taken multiple tests to determine if I am just overly horny, or indeed a sex addict, and on every test my score is at the extreme end of addiction. Sometimes I wonder how I am still alive. This is one true story:

I was driving west from the Chicago loop to the near west suburbs after work on Roosevelt Rd. The street cuts through the Pilsen neighborhood which is heavily Latino and ridden with gangs. Visually it is not a slum, quite the opposite. There are huge murals, Latin museums, and the food is awesome. There are ghetto used appliance stores and stuff, and I wouldn't want to live there, but it is not bad.

I was at a light and saw an attractive, yet rough, woman walking in the direction I was driving. Long cotton summer dress, mid 30's, blondish hair pull into a ponytail to keep her neck cool. She had on these huge dark sunglasses. I was staring at her because those few blocks always have streetwalkers on them. Making eye-contact is the initial sign that you are looking. I wasn't there because I was looking, but being a sex addict if the opportunity arises I can't pass it up. As she waited for the light to change so that she could cross I sensed she was looking at me, but hard to confirm.... until she smiled.

The light turned green and I drove off but parked in an open space on the next block ahead. I watched in the side mirror as she approached and instead of just coming up to my window she walked past me but made a slight gesture pointing to the next side-street. I rounded the corner and again parked and waited. This time she jumped right in and said, "Sorry, but there are undercover cops patrolling the area." She said that she had a place and guided me.

She pointed down an alley and to the side of brick three-flat that had a gravel driveway/backyard. In the alley were three or four gang-bangers which she said hello too. I should mention that I think she was white, but maybe half Latina. She said to park here. Thoughts did enter my mind that this was a planned robbery/murder, or that I would come out (if I came back out) and my car would be gone. The prize of potential pussy outweighed the risks. There were signs upon signs that this was a bad situation that could get worse, but I stayed.

She led be through a boarded-up door and down a short flight of concrete steps to the basement where I think she lived, or was more likely just squatting at. No lights except the natural light coming through spaces in the boarded windows. There was a twin size hospital bed and a metal rack with clothes hanging on it next to it.

Finally I was able to check her out and I noticed the track marks on her arms. Full junkie or crackhead. She took off her dress and her body was actually really nice: nice natural tits, maybe a C cups, not a washboard stomach but only slightly doughy with a c-section scar. Great ass and a nice pussy that was fully shaved. That was when I came to realize that those living conditions and the summer heat squatting in a burned-out hot and humid building made her pretty grimy and gross. The risk of disease, death, murder, arrest were all strong possibilities, but I still didn't stop.

She pulled out a condom, slipped it on, and started to give head while she was sitting on the bed and I was standing next to it. It took awhile to get it up, likely because I was more focused on my surroundings and if I was going to be attacked by someone lurking in the dark corners. After a few minutes she stopped and laid on the bed. I wish I had a lot of good details in this part but I don't. We did missionary, she got on top for a bit, and I hit her in doggie, but I wasn't able to cum. We actually had sex for quite a long time but my mind wasn't in it.

Have you ever wanted to cum so bad that you try to focus on the feelings, but you realize you are just focusing on staying focused? That is where I was mentally. She stunk, the room stunk, and we were both sweaty gritty messes on a sheet-less mattress that was just as damp and gross as we were. I asked her to finish (try) me off with more oral and she tried, but no avail. Several times I felt like I had reached the point were I was going to cum, but lost that feeling. After several more minutes I said that she could stop and that I wasn't going to cum.

I wiped off sweat and crime with a towel that was laying there, which was likely a previous John's cum rag. We got dressed and I realized that we never once discuss a fee. I had about $80 in cash on me and gave it to her and she said "thanks". I wonder if she would have been OK with $20 or nothing at all. Once dressed we walked out together past the gang-bangers that didn't so much as bat an eye at me. She asked me to drop her off near where I first saw her and I did.

I drove that way countless times again on my way home but never saw her again.