Another piece commissioned by Ruthie's Club. Bellow is the teaser and a couple of paragraphs...
Teaser:
Until I met Soup Kitchen Cindy I always believed homeless women to be out of my league. I mean, what if my place was compromised?
Soup Kitchen Cindy
by Karl Koweski
It was another Saturday night and I needed to get laid. Not exactly an uncommon conundrum for the main man of superior grooviness. I’d hit a dry spell lately. And the last three months of intense masturbation left me with a callus for a cock, Herculean wrists and self-esteem eye-high to a garden snake.
When you’re down on yourself, as I was, night-clubbing is an exercise in futility. There’s nothing worse than trying to compete with twenty-nine other chronic masturbators for the attention, not of the pretty ladies, but of the one or two women guaranteed to hand over some pussy in a timely fashion. I was so far removed from their lifestyle of fancy clothes and flash cars that I might as well have been trolling for trim at a eunuch convention.
Seemingly out of options, with that familiar feeling of born-again virginity creeping over me like a black blanket of despair, I got in my crummy little car and left my crummy little apartment swearing a blood oath I wouldn’t return until I had consensual sex with a member of the opposite sex.
Such was my state of mind as I drove past the 147th Street Homeless Shelter and noticed the raven-haired beauty parking her shopping cart next to the entrance.
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