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Samantha J.Brent©1993 I had seen Samantha on the scene for years, always hanging out in the same bars where you could find all the other freaks. Everybody always assumed straight away that she was a boy, but that was just because of the blue-jean way she dressed. I was playing piano in the street one day, and here she comes and lays a six pack of Löwenbräu next to the case. It wasn't until I said thanks, and she said "That's cool" that I even realized that she was a girl. I always thought that she was just another one of the locals, but later she started hanging around with my wife, and we had a few drinks together the three of us and some really interesting conversations. Her mother was from Nigeria, but her father was English, and the first time I heard her speak English I was really surprised. Like I say I just thought she was Swiss. Me and David the Artist (Pretty Richard's brother) were hanging around in the pub down by the station, and David was complaining about how he wasn't getting laid. David was as good looking as his brother, but much shyer. I always wondered about David though because once when I was doing a pitch in Basel, he showed up with this book he'd been reading by some French queer called Jean Genet. I read bits and pieces in between sets, and let me tell you that's got to be the trashiest faggy shit I've ever read. He thought it was "life as Art". Rubbish. Anyway, there was David squealing about being starved for pussy, and in walks Samantha. She starts telling us about this story of how her boyfriend had been in the knick for dealing or something, how she had remained true to him the whole time, how she had looked forward to his getting out, how she had met him at the jail the day they released him, and how she was so madly happy to finally see her old man again. Then the guy went and told her that he'd had plenty of time to think things over while he was locked away and he'd decided to break it off with her. She went on and on, and by the tone of her voice I could tell that what she needed was a good fuck. Now, I was married at the time, so I wasn't interested in this girl, really. I was just trying to set something up for David. So, me and David and Samantha all go up into town and I think of an excuse for us all to go up to this apartment above the Rosius restaurant where David and all the buskers always stayed. Once inside, I approached her from behind and pulled up her shirt so that David can see her brown titties. I say "Here ya go, David!" He gets this horrified look on his face, and just then Little John strolls in. I tell Samantha "C'mon let's go into the othe room". And I start making my way towards David's bedroom. My plan was to get the thing started and then leave the two of them together, but David's voice goes up an octave and he says "OH NO, not in MY room!" What a jerk! He complains that he's starving to death, and when someone lays a feast on his table, he changes his mind. Oh well, it was too far gone to back out now, so me and Samantha went into another room. We were 69ing it with her on top, and she was deep throating my hard-on like a sword swallower, actually biting my balls while my whole shaft was down her gullet. At the same time she was really ramming her pussy into my mouth like a savage animal, forcefully rubbing her clit against my tongue so hard I was wondering if she wasn't going to hurt herself. And her funk filled the room. I loved it. I just have time to hear Little John say "Hey, you guys have GOT to see this!" When the door swings wide open. There's Little John, Big Junk and Rudi Rudini the Juggler, peering through the door like the three fucking stooges. She takes her mouth off my prick in order to say hello to them all, and I tell them if they've got their eyes full enough that the should bloody well shut the goddam door. Well, finally they do close the door and they're all laughing. Me and Samantha get back down to business. During her tear-filled story at the pub she also happened to mention that she had a fungus infection that just wouldn't go aweay. She grabs my dick and is just about to ram it straight inside her snatch. I had to think fast. I made a quick move so that she couldn't stick me in, and said "Hey, I don't want your shit". This took an incredible amount of will power, I tell you, but if she couldn't get rid of this infection, chances are I wouldn't have been able to either. She hadn't come yet, but she was sure dying to. I moved around so that she had her head on my thigh while sucking me, which gave me the "upper hand". Then I fingered her off like greased lightning until she finally exploded. And explode she did! Her pent up juices from all of her futile fidelity came squirting out of her like a jet stream and absolutely soaked the sheets! And right after she climaxed she said sweetly "Oh, Jeff! Thank you!" She was so grateful! Well, I had done my good deed for the day, now it was her turn. Since I had already seen that she was an expert at deep throat, I had no qualms about stuffing my throbbing cock as far down her mouth as it would go. I grabbed her head, running my fingers through her kinky black hair, and came buckets in the back of her throat. She didn't even have to swallow my jism, the end of my knob was already way past that point. Ah, Mother Africa! We lay there for a while in each other's arms, while she looked a little sad and wistful. I could tell that she wished that I would be her boyfriend, but of course that was clearly impossible. Then after a bit she put on her clothes and said "See you later". As soon as she left, Rudi Rudini comes into the room and starts screaming at me. Rudi is supposed to be a clown, but in real life he's one of the most miserable people I've ever met, so I wasn't surprised by his screaming - he's always moaning and complaining about something. He was yelling about the mess we'd made of the sheets on his bed, and then he went into the bathroom to wash them, still screaming at me. Then I said "What are you acting so high and mighty about, you've fucked my wife, haven't you?" Naturally, he denied it. I just walked out, I had other things to do. That evening I went out for a Chinese fondue with my Swiss wife. I didn't even bother to clean myself up, and she could probably smell Samantha all over me. In fact, I'd gotten pretty drunk that afternoon and the hangover phase started to get to me in the early evening. A couple of days later, the guys told me that Samantha had been in every bar in town that night, buying everybody drinks and spending all kinds of money like crazy. They asked me if I had given her the money but of course I hadn't. Even if she had asked me for some, I wouldn't have been able to, being a perennially broke busker. And that was the last time anybody saw her. She'd been hanging out on the scene for as long as I could remember, everybody knew her, and suddenly she just disappeared after blowing all her money in the bars in one last wild spree. I don't know what happened to her, nobody else knows either. Samantha, where are you? I would like to see you again some day and know that you're well and happy.
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