Carrie Catches Herself a "Unicorn"

Carrie Catches Herself a "Unicorn"1.When I met Carrie, I was perhaps at my lowest point in my dealings with women. If I'd have met Carrie at any other time, I might've had the good sense to get out, or not get involved. As it stood-- I was vulnerable, and desperate-- and for all of her faults, Carrie was quite attractive, masterful-- even insane in bed, and cunningly manipulative.Carrie was the first woman I'd been with in a long time who was more sexually experienced than I was, and (so far) has been the oldest women I've ever been with. I was in my late 20s at the time, and she was nearing her 50s-- and even though she was still incredibly sexy and attractive, and at times could even appear or seem like a younger woman, it was apparent that she had lived a long and sometimes hard life. I came to understand that Carrie had been in many abusive relationships-- and had had more than her share of d**gs and alcohol in her time, so she had a hardened, matronly look about her. There was something about this hardened look she had cultivated combined with her stunning figure that was intoxicating. Add also her vast experience with men of all kinds, and the fact that she was a strong and oftentimes intimidating woman, the notion of intercourse with Carrie proved too tempting to side-step, even if it might've been wiser to avoid her. As it stood-- rather than avoid her, I confronted her head on. And lived to tell the tale.But she was trouble. More trouble than I realized when I met her-- and even though I came to realize how much trouble she was, something tells me I still never learned how dangerous she could be. Despite everything that happened, though-- it's hard to say I regret any of it. It came very close to feeling like hell for a short time while I was... involved with her, but she provided me with an experience I will never forget. I'm just lucky I was able to get away. It was a near thing at the end.2.My relationships with women had fallen into a well-worn, almost grooved pattern at this point in my life. In my late 20s-- I suddenly found myself unemployed, alone, with very few prospects. As a bachelor who didn't have much to spend his money on, and who was a reliable employee before the company I worked for went belly up and bankrupt, I had managed to save up enough funds to live off of while I decided what to do with my life, or wait for the right job to cross my path. It was either refreshing, or pathetic, that I somehow began to resemble the man I was in my early 20s-- practically a k**-- than I was the man who I had become a few short months ago when the last failed relationship I attempted turned its back on me and walked out the door, just as they all had.I thought I knew what my problem was. The truth was that I only partially understood what the problem was. But at the time, I was convinced that I had it figured out, even if I had no clue how to move past it. I was constantly pursuing the wrong woman. Emotionally unavailable women, self destructive women, women who I knew would be bad for me, or women who tempted me away from happy, productive relationships into tumultuous sexual affairs that were lustful, self-serving, and-- outside of the privacy of the bedroom-- almost totally meaningless. But that wasn't all. I also had a tendency to pursue women who I could likewise tempt and seduce into lustful, ill advised affairs that went nowhere. I had fallen for women who had destroyed me, but I had in my own turn destroyed other women. Some had just barely been eighteen, just starting out in life. Now that I was alone once again, after having caused a great deal of hurt in someone else because of my own selfish desire to satiate my male urges, I felt appropriately guilty. The fact that I didn't have a job to go to, or any friends to interact with in the outside world, had only served to further isolate me in my depression.In my younger days, in situations like the one I currently found myself in-- I would hit two things really hard. The gym, and the bars. Without a job, friends, or a woman to distract me-- I spent my days working out. Although I always kept a pretty tight reign on my physical appearance, after a few weeks of being unemployed and without companionship, my body was quickly bouncing back to its former glory. This helped me feel a little better about myself, and would hopefully get me on track to meet a girl sometime soon. This time I promised that I would meet the right girl, and that I wouldn't fuck around-- I'd really be a good guy, committed, and not let my cock get the better of me and go wandering out into the night seeking forays with other women.Promises, promises...In the evenings, out of boredom and with the dim hope of meeting someone, my misguided judgement led me to the bars downtown. At the time, I lived in what one hundred years ago used to be a wild west frontier town-- and as such, had a historically famous alley of roughly a dozen historic bars. Suffice it to say, I grew up in a drinking town, and once you turned 21 there was plenty of opportunity to find somewhere to sit and imbibe. Weekends usually saw a rush of people of all ages out to dance and have a good time-- and was the best chance at striking up a conversation with a local girl. Might not have been the highest caliber of lady-- but there were a lot of attractive women in town, and you could do a lot worse. During the weekdays, however-- the dives were sparse, and occupied mostly with chronic alcoholics wasting away on a series of bar stools. I should know. I found myself becoming one of them. It was a wonder I was never picked up by the police. I learned a long time ago to not drive drunk, but when you live over a mile away from the downtown bars, a drunken stumble home was rife with opportunities for mischief. Perhaps it was my muscular build that helped keep me out of trouble, but it was just as likely to have been stroke after stroke of good luck that kept me out of trouble. That was until I decided to try The Haunt on a night I had never been before, and met Carrie.3.The Haunt was a themed country dive bar-- dimly lit with neon florescent and year round Christmas tree lights. It was the kind of place where you might get lucky and have some friendly fellow patron buy everybody a round-- or find yourself the target of some slurred, drunken aggression for some unintended misdeed. It was a Wednesday.There was the main bar-- mostly empty save for a middle aged couple near the end-- a completely vacant dance floor-- and six billiards table, one of which was hosting a game. Along the wall was a small ledge-- just wide enough for a drink-- and a series of tall stools. I came in, ordered a rye whiskey and a light beer in as few words as possible and without even acknowledging the bartender, and kept my tab open.It's funny how people work. I had come here to have some exposure to the outside world, so that I wasn't a complete shut in-- and also in the hopes that I might find someone to help me forget about myself for a while. Despite why I told myself I came to the bars night after night, I never met anybody. I thought I was getting out and being social. The truth was that I hardly ever looked up from my drink, even to notice the bartender I was ordering it from, much less to see if there were any eligible bachelorettes in the place.I walked my drinks back to a stool around the perimeter wall and sat myself down for what was likely going to be a short-long night. I nursed my drinks-- hoping to make them last-- and tore at the label on my beer bottle absent mindedly."'Nother round, baby?" a sultry voice asked, slightly hoarse-- as though thirsty. I looked up and saw her-- the bartender who had given me my drink. Even though I had hardly noticed her when I first arrived-- it was hard to believe, as she was hard to miss. She was just shy of being tall-- wide shouldered and formidable. Dark black-red dyed hair, with a few random streaks of her natural silvery hair speckled here and there. She was tan, had dark green eyes-- thick black mascara, and a sexy face that would've been painfully beautiful in her youth. She had a clever mouth, straight white teeth, and dimples in her cheeks.Just as noticeable as her stunning good looks was her full, buxom, muscular hourglass figure. She looked strong, but not bulky. She was soft in all the right places, but firm everywhere else. She had large, prominent breasts, squeezed into a tight black tank top with sequins in the shape of angel wings on the back. A long tattoo ran from her middle finger and ran all the way up her arm-- a single vine with offshoots of leaves and flowers, wrapped around her finger, ran up the back of her hand, around her wrist, up to her elbow, and disappeared up her arm and underneath her shirt over her shoulder. It made you wonder where it ended.She noticed me staring. "You okay?""I'm fine," I said-- "Not ready for a refill. Yet.""Well you just let me know," she said-- eyeing me, with a little grin on her lips. "I'll keep my eye out for you." She turned and walked away back toward the bar. My eyes followed her as she walked-- the sway of her hips, the gentle back and forth, up and down rolling of her ass in her tight faded jeans. She turned over her shoulder to look at me, and caught me watching her walk away. She was smiling, though-- and besides, it doesn't hurt to look.I admired the bartender for a moment-- imagining dimly what I might say or how things might go if I decided that I wanted to pursue her welcoming, flirtatious glances. I decided against it. I came here to drink-- and to try and remember what life was like when I still had normal relationships with women that weren't predicated on sex alone. The way I saw it-- the only reason why I was alone in a bar at all, even thinking about sticking it in a middle aged bartender was because I wasn't alone with a girl who was right and good for me that I loved-- who loved me back; perhaps in a home of our own, starting a family, and living an honest, clean life. Because I wasn't there, with her-- whoever she was-- I was here, with this bartender. And I had to decide for myself what I wanted, and how to get it. If I wanted to spend my life fucking bartenders who shoot me hopeful glances, that was one thing. If I wanted something more-- something lasting... I had to figure out how that all worked, and what would get me there.I wasn't aware of it then, but I was setting myself up for self-sabotage. Alcohol doesn't tend to make one err on the side of long term gains for short term sacrifices. And the longer I sat against the wall nursing my whiskey and sipping my beer, the more I noticed the bartender wasn't just shooting me meaningful glances. She was downright eye-fucking me from her place behind the counter. I realized how alone the two of us were-- not completely, but mostly. And as egotistic and self-centered as it sounded, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was the best looking guy in the place, standard objective classifications of attraction taken into account. And by that rationale, she was the sexiest girl this bar had to offer at this particular time, too. Perhaps at most particular times. And she looked as though she knew exactly what she had to offer and what she wanted, and apparently that seemed to include me.I could've left then, but I didn't. Instead, I finished my drinks suddenly and quickly. She watched me do it. I then got up out of my isolated bar stool and walked my empty glass and bottle back to the bar and 'bellied up' as they say. I told myself that talking and flirting weren't the same thing as one night stands or self-destructive co-dependency. That's what I thought. I thought I'd have a little fun talking to a hot woman and be on my way; the short term satisfaction delayed for long term happiness with the eventual girl of my dreams."Nother round?" she asked again, same meaningful grin on her lips."Yeah, I think I'm ready for a refill.""Same?""Just the whiskey for now.""Double?" she asked, hardly asking at all-- wavering the question at the end of the word between statement and inquiry."Sure," I said; saying 'no' just felt wrong somehow.She poured right in front of me."You know, you don't have to sit over there by the wall-- I won't bite. Not yet.""Well-- if not then I may as well sit back over there," I said, smiling."Fine. You'll have to wait until later, though. Cameras.""Never seen you here, before--" I said."Started not too long ago. Newbies get the shitty shifts. Working my way to weekends.""So you really are working for the weekend?""Uh. Yeah-- you could call it that.""My name's Kevin," I said--"Carrie. And actually I kind of already know who you are..."I blinked. "Oh?""Yeah. It's nothing weird, though. I work with Jenny sometimes. She says you and her used to have a thing..."The name dug in my gut like a dagger. Jenny. The sister of a girl I was dating and lived with when I first moved out of my hometown-- before coming back. It was ironic that this should come up at this particular time, as Jenny was exactly the type I was drinking to forget-- and hopefully move past.Carrie must've noticed the look on my face. "That bad, huh?""Uh. Just-- a lot of history, there.""Well she speaks very highly of you...""Is that sarcastic?"She laughed. "No. It wasn't meant to be. Is that so surprising?""Maybe not..." I said--then, more nervously, "She's not here now, is she?""No. She worked earlier.""And she told you about me?"Carrie bobbed her head left and right in a half-nod, half-shake that meant neither 'yes' or 'no'. "Girls chat. Y'know. Especially two girls who've lived in this town a long time and know a lot of the same people," and then, as if trying to reassure me, "Really it was nothing bad."I relaxed a little, and sipped my whiskey."So you're from here then?" I asked."I'm from Gallup originally. But I've lived here-- around fifteen years. You?""Born and raised. Can't seem to make it out of this town.""There are worse places," she said. "But still just bad enough to still be fun.""I suppose you're right. Still-- small enough that even complete strangers know who you are half the time..."She laughed. "That's true. Everybody knows everybody around here," then, with a sideways glance that was sharp enough to do some damage, she added--"You know what she told me?"I looked at her. She really would've been beautiful ten years ago. She said she moved here fifteen years ago. At that time, she would've looked like an angel. She still had it in her-- but the years had come and gone and obscured some of that youthful beauty she must've used to have a double-ration of. At least she still had some of it left."What did she tell you?""How did she put it-- she said... you were the nicest bad guy she ever knew.""Well. She should know. She tempted me to cheat on her own sister with her right after she moved in with us. I tried my best to resist but in the end... well, we can only withstand so much pressure.""And how long did that take?""Uh. Maybe three hours?"She whistled. "You did good to last that long. Don't beat yourself up about it, too much. Jenny's a good lookin' girl. I've seen pictures of her from a few years back-- hell, I would've fucked her brains out.""Does she look much different?"Carrie shrugged. "She's happy now. At least, that's what she says." It didn't answer the question-- but in a way, it said everything I needed to know."Anyway, when a girl like her gets it in her head that she wants something, she gets it. Sooner or later. I should know..." Carrie smiled her seductive smile again. Given the context, it made me nervous-- weakened my willpower. I sipped my whiskey again.Noticing the silence, her tone changed. "Give me a sec," she said-- then did a lap around the bar, asking if any of the guests needed a refill. I watched her as she went-- first to the other couple sitting at the end of the bar-- then to the guys playing pool. God, she looked unbelievable in her tight tank top and torn up jeans. She was the complete opposite of the kind of girls I'd gotten mixed up with lately. Katie and Ash were young, petite-- inexperienced. Carrie was middle aged, full figured, and spoke with authority. She also did remind me of Jenny-- who had been young, had a petite waist, but unlike Katie and Ash had a full figured bust, and was more experienced. Those were some wild days-- hiding from her sister, my long time girlfriend, who didn't know what to do with my big dick or my intense hunger for sex. But her younger sister, Jenny-- she knew what to do. It had led me to one of my first big ruins with women-- among the first of a seemingly never ending chain that always seemed to lead me here-- with women like Carrie who you knew were nothing but trouble. My mind began to swirl with the burning liquid in my glass. If I wasn't careful, Carrie could become another link in that chain. I told myself to take out a 20, leave it on the bar and walk out. What are you doing? I asked myself. Leave now before it becomes any more of a certainty.Carrie returned. "You still good, baby?" Such a professional. I lifted my glass and nodded. Carrie winked at me. She may have been in her 40s, but she had energy-- a spring in her step. She flipped her hair around, revealing a fairy tattoo she had behind her left ear, and reached into a mini fridge to pull out two beers. She popped the lids off the top, quickly turned to smile at me, and walked back to the pool players.She stood and chatted with them for a few minutes-- polite conversation. Perhaps a little flirtatious, but just friendly. Laughter. Meanwhile, I looked at the door. My whiskey was almost empty. Maybe it was time to go..."'Nother double, sweetie?"I looked up. She had the bottle of whiskey already in her hand. Saying no just felt-- rude."Sure. Last one.""Ppphh," she scoffed-- "C'mon. Stay and keep me company. Heck, keep me safe, you never know what's gonna happen around here some nights. Jenny told me that you were very strong..."She pushed the glass in my direction, biting her lip-- really eye-fucking me now."How late are you here 'til?" I asked."Last call is at 1:45. Close at two. I usually head home around 2:15 on a night like tonight," then, with a meaningful look-- "Why?"All the sudden the ball was in my court. I could decide to go on, or take my own advice and back-pedal. I looked at Carrie. I had been with a decent amount of women at this time in my life-- but none quite like her. I could tell even then that she would be an experience. A handful. Maybe even a woman who could dish out just as much as I was capable of giving. Maybe that would be worth having, at least once. Just once..."When do you usually go to sleep?" I asked.Her sexy grin again. She leaned forward against the bar closer to me. I could smell her cheap perfume. "Depends. Onnnn... if anything is keeping me up.""Maybe I could keep you up.""I'm sure I can keep you up."I took another small sip of my whiskey. The familiar burn, the swimming of thoughts and desire mashing into a single goal beginning to form like a ball of lust again in my stomach. I felt my crotch begin to gently throb in my pants."Fine," I said "I've got nothing to do tomorrow," I grinned back at her. The dye was cast. Everything that happened after this point was just an inevitable matter of course, both of us playing our prescribed parts.4."Brr! It's so cold out..." Carrie said, pulling her heavy coat up around her as she locked the back door to the bar. We were standing in the alley in back of the building and the night was nearly silent and shockingly cold. We could see our breath hanging in the air at our every exhalation and spoken word. "Do you have a car?""Yes, but. I walked here tonight. Don't wanna get popped, y'know?"With a heavy click the bar door locked shut. She turned to face me, and I was once again struck by her beauty-- so stunning and incredibly sexy, but just on the verge of being totally eclipsed by old age, fast approaching--nipping at her heels. It wouldn't be long now before her beauty or good looks would become an afterthought--a memory, something you had to look at old photos to see. As she currently was, she could conceivably pass for her late 30s, but it was a stretch. And yet the final brilliant flicker of her beauty and sexuality seemed to burn more brightly now that it approached it's end. There was a sense when you looked into her eyes that she was painfully aware of all of this-- the dwindling of her beauty, the remaining heavy burn of her profound sexual hunger, and the sad but slow acceptance of her coming old age. But for now at least she could ignore it-- especially now with a young handsome man to accompany her home."Oh. Yeah-- I know what you mean.""You don't have a car?" I asked."No. DUI last year. Cheaper to just get rid of the car than to pay for the goddamn breathalyzer. My place isn't far.""Want my coat?" I offered-- feeling chivalrous, but secretly hoping she would decline.She paused. "Won't you be cold?"I paused in return, suddenly wishing I could take my offer back. "Yeah, but if you're really cold--""I'm freezing," she insisted."Well. Here--" I said, beginning to unbutton my coat and slipping it off my shoulders. "You may need to wear it under yours--"Carrie similarly began to shed her large, heavy coat. She looked incredible, but frigid, in her black tank top and tight fitting, torn up jeans. "Hold this..." she handed me her coat as she snatched mine out of my outreached arms and quickly wrapped herself up in it-- my close-fitting, dark grey wool pea coat. Then, retaking her larger, fluffier coat, slipped it over mine-- and voila! She was now double layered while I stood in my tight-fitting muscle shirt. She sighed relief."Ah! Thank you-- much better. Smells good, too," she said, giving me a once over look. "C'mon-- let's get you back to my place so we can warm you up." And off we went into the night.Carrie had yelled out 'last call' quarter to two as I sipped another double whiskey she had poured for me. Then, as she was nearing her close-- she asked me sweetly to wait for her out back."Maybe you can clear up some questions I had about you and Jenny," Carrie had said. "She told me some things that were-- kind of hard to believe..." the tone in her voice was suspicious and doubtful, but I knew precisely what she was referring to. Despite everything that happened between Jenny and I-- including her sudden and seemingly inexplicable distance and departure from my life after our short but intense affair was discovered by her sister-- it was interesting to hear that Jenny had supposedly had positive things to report to her new friend and co-worker, Carrie. Jenny never would've guessed that Carrie and I would somehow meet-- and that Carrie would have an opportunity to get my take, to confirm or deny anything that Jenny had claimed about me. And I thought I had an idea as to what those claims might've been. It was hard to imagine how much Jenny would've exaggerated. My affair with Jenny really solidified my a****listic lust-- and throughout our affair I became increasingly determined to work, train, and perfect my sexual abilities. Once, around the time when Jenny and I had really begun to hit our stride in the bedroom together-- she turned to me, dripping sweat and breathing heavy, totally naked and ravished-- and said, "You fuck better than most male porn stars that I've seen in videos." Her words always stuck with me in particular because, once I had set my mind to it, it was precisely what I was after. When I first started fucking Jenny-- now years ago-- it was my intention to fuck her like a porn star. It was my goal. And together, day after day, night after night, after her sister-- my girlfriend-- would go to bed at night, Jenny and I would fuck like we were possessed; I would practice everything on her, over and over again-- edging myself to climax and stopping just short in order to prolong the experience as long as our endurance could allow. I committed myself to strengthening every muscle in my body so that I could be capable of doing more and more. And she in turn was a perfect, young, stunning dark haired porn starlet, just barely able to take everything I could give. Then-- all at once, our affair was discovered by her sister, and everything quickly fell apart. It wasn't long until Jenny drifted away and left me as well. Ever after, it was one girl after another-- all of them over-matched when confronted with my techniques and desires, my sculpted body, and my large cock. Not to say I didn't enjoy any of the other girls after Jenny-- cute little virgin Kate, or sultry Ash-- but neither of them were capable of taking me at my absolute best. So I had let myself go a bit, and I had begun to question what kind of relationship I wanted, and sex suddenly began to feel less and less important-- and perhaps even a part of my life that was in the rear-view mirror.Then, by chance, I met Carrie-- who knew of my reputation even before I even knew she existed, much less knew her name. And at just the time in my life when I had really begun working on my body again, and felt nearly back to my old self. And she was just the kind of woman who might be able to take me back to what I felt with Jenny, maybe a little more. As we began walking down the dark alleyway in the direction of her place, the desire to really let myself go crazy on Carrie and fuck her brains out harder than I had with any other girl in recent memory grew within me. With every step toward her bedroom, the desire seemed to magnify within me.Perhaps she sensed this as we walked by the brief silence between us."I wasn't really expecting company tonight-- I hope you don't mind if my place is a little messy..." she laughed lightly as she offered her apology."Doesn't bother me," I said. "I'm usually more comfortable in places that aren't spotless anyway.""Yeah. Well, my place is pretty far from spotless, so...""It's no problem."Another pause. "So. Anyway I was saying earlier that our mutual acquaintance Jenny had some interesting things to say about your guys' relationship. I figured-- as long as I had you-- may as well get your take.""Sure.""And, I mean-- some of this was pretty personal. I hope you don't mind that she told me and if you don't wanna answer that's okay, too..." The way she said it made it seem as though what she really wanted to hear was that I would be honest and answer all her questions, no matter how 'personal'."I don't care. I'll tell you the truth. I've got no reason to lie about anything.""Well I mean-- some of it just sounded. Y'know, sometimes some girls can kind of exaggerate things they've done or guys they've been with. It's okay-- we all do it. I've done it.""What did she say?""She said-- well, first of all-- she said you more than anybody else she's ever been with could really fuck like a porn star. And that you had a cock bigger than most porn stars she's seen, too.""So what do you wanna know?""Well. I just wanna know-- what you think about what she said. Is it true?"A sense of hopefulness in her voice. I turned to look at her and found that same hopefulness in her eyes. She wanted it to be true. A small blade of her dark, red wine colored hair was blown diagonally down her face from the wind, but she made no effort to right it.I laughed. "I can't say if I 'fuck like a porn star' or not, but... I don't know why I'm going to tell you this, but, even before I met Jenny I began to wonder if I had a problem with sex. Like, if I was a sex addict. Because I love fucking-- and not just fucking, but I love that feeling of totally losing myself in sex and letting myself become an a****l. It feels incredible in the moment but I always fucking regret it afterwards because it has destroyed my life many times and usually destroys the girls' life, too, because the only way I fuck 'like a porn star' how Jenny puts it is if I treat the girls I'm with like they're a****ls too. And the thing is-- in my experience-- it works. I become an a****l, and I turn her into an a****l-- and together we just go crazy and fuck our brains out and it's incredible and awful all at the same time. When I was with Jenny-- I made it a point to try and fuck like a porn star, and I guess I did... but I cheated on Jenny's sister with her, and it felt amazing at the time but it left my whole life in shambles. Before Jenny there was a girl named Jessica-- and I practically ruined her marriage with her husband fucking her in their house, in their bed... turning her against him. And after Jenny, I took advantage of a virgin girl, totally ruining her and possibly ruining sex with anyone else for her for the rest of her life-- and then denigrated and humiliated a lesbian girl who was curious about what it was like to have sex with a guy... it's just been one mess after another, to be honest. But-- I guess to answer your question-- yeah. I fucking love sex. I love it so much it ruins my life and the lives of the girls I'm with. Because when I fuck a girl, I want her to never enjoy anything less than me ever again."Carrie remained staring at me as we walked. I felt her eyes on me, felt vulnerable from my confession-- but also relieved. It meant that-- if Carrie and I were going to go through with whatever it was we had in mind-- she would at least know what I was capable of, somewhat, so that she could decide for herself if that's what she wanted-- or maybe... maybe even help me move past it. Was that too much to hope for?"Wow," she said at last. "Yeah. That kind of makes sense... Jenny said that you were so good it was kind of infectious and that she didn't really recognize herself after a while. She said it felt good but it was also really, really damaging."That hurt. It hurt because it was true, because I felt the same way."What about the other part, though?" Carrie asked."What other part?""The part about you having a big cock. Jenny said--""She said what?""I mean... it's ridiculous."I said nothing, but I turned to look at Carrie-- a look that indicated that I was ready to hear any number, no matter how ridiculous."She said it was a foot long. "Literally a foot" is what she said. And like, this big around..." Carrie then held her hands out in front of her-- both of them-- carefully recreating what Jenny had demonstrated, creating a circumference similar to a tin can.Again, I said nothing, my expression didn't change."Is that true?" Still the slightest tone of hope in her voice. Hope? Most girls are overwhelmed. But to hope..."I'll let you find out for yourself, if you want--""So it's true then."I let my silence speak for me. It was true-- and we both knew of the inevitability of her discovering the truth for herself at this point. The rest was mere formality."You're-- what do they call it. You're a 'unicorn'.""Excuse me?"She laughed. "Well. For you that may have a double meaning. A unicorn is someone who is, like, a perfect catch-- and super rare. But in your case, you also happen to be hung like one. Well, like a horse, but I feel like saying you're hung like a unicorn has a much more appropriate ring to it...""I have no idea how rare it is. But it's definitely a blessing and a curse...""Oh. It's a blessing... I just think that-- probably Jenny or other girls you've been with just don't know what a blessing it is or can be if you know how to work it right." Carrie said, enthusiastically, and then perhaps noticing the ripples of goosebumps across my bare skin, took my arm and squeezed it tightly against her. I could feel the warmth of her breasts radiating through her layers of fabric and could smell her perfume and hair dye. She looked at me with her green eyes-- she was very close to being my height. "You must be so cold. We need to get you home so I can warm you up...""How close are you?"Smiling, she said, "Real close."Together, we quickened our pace. We were at her doorstep not ten minutes later.5.As we approached the dim yellow light bulb lighting the way to her front porch like a lighthouse as it glowed faintly in the cold dark night around us, she resumed her apologies."Really, don't look around-- it's such a mess. It's so embarrassing...""I honestly don't care.""Well, you haven't seen it yet. And my daughter lives with me, she's probably still awake. Don't feel awkward, though-- she's an adult now. God, I feel so old..." her voice sounded boisterous and youthful though, perhaps hoping to not seem old. The hoarse rhaspiness of her voice belied her poorly masked disguise, however. It was a sexy voice, though. Some girls were said to have 'bedroom eyes', but Carrie seemed to not only have bedroom eyes, but a bedroom voice. Sultry and steamy. It was the kind of voice that would whisper all the dirty things she wanted you to do to her in your ear with hot breath and the smell of sex wafting throughout the room.I halted outside her house-- it was a small place in the sketchy side of town. Run down and hidden away from the main road-- it was behind another house that you had to walk around in order to get to. It seemed as though it used to be a mother in law suite from the main property that was sub-let out. There were blankets and sheets hung in the windows instead of curtains. Coffee tins full of cigarette butts and wooden crates were stacked up outside the back door. Aside from the yellow glow of the bulb, and the soft white light coming from behind the blankets covering the windows the world was pitch black night.The walk had sobered me up some, but after our conversation, our flirtations, and our long walk to her place, I was already committed. I was going to be balls deep in Carrie within the hour-- sooner if I could manage it. It didn't bother me that we were in the impoverished part of town, or that her house might be run down or infested with cockroaches-- none of that mattered to me. In a way, the filthier it was, the better. It was somehow deeply satisfying and simultaneously wretched that I had found myself in this self-serving, lust-crazed place again-- fully admitting how much sex had ruined my relationships with women to a woman approaching her 50s who seemed just fine with that. Wanted it, actually. The more I could wallow in fucking this woman who wanted nothing more than my cock from me, the worse I would feel and the better the fucking would be. And the worse it felt, perhaps the better the odds would be that I could move past this and find something and someone who could mean something important to me.Carrie might've been nice, sexy-- and might even know how to handle all of me. But she wasn't going to be the girl I could settle down with. She wasn't going to be the 'happily ever after' type."How-- will your daughter mind that I'm here? That we--""Oh! God no, don't worry about that..." Carrie said as she stepped up to her back door. "She's not that innocent herself, either... Skinny little thing, though. I keep telling her she's gotta put on some weight..."The door opened and Carrie stepped inside. I followed closely behind her. Carried turned and waved me in, pulling the hoodie from her jacket down and pulling her hair free. "Come on in," she said-- not missing the opportunity to sound apologetic one last time.I stepped inside into the kitchen. The floor bowed under my feet-- the cheap linoleum was warped from water damage, or from broken floor boards beneath. The counter was hidden beneath layers of dirty pots, pans, dishes, and cups-- each with some remains of food or beverage unconsumed and left to harden. The place was small-- the living room was immediately to the left of the kitchen, where a girl-- perhaps 19 or 20-- sat in her panties and a baggy hoodie sweatshirt inches from the T.V. eating from a pint of ice cream, hair pulled up into a ball on the top of her head. Though the lighting was dim, she looked biracial-- half black, half white. She had thick black eyelashes, clumped with heaps of mascara-- and her eyebrows looked stenciled into position above her eyes. Carrie was right-- she had the same face as her mom, but her body was thin as a rail. I thought maybe it was d**gs-- but maybe it wasn't."Hey Kari," Carrie said."Hey Mom.""This is Kevin-- he's a friend of a co-worker.""Hey," she said to me, monotone. Then, to her mom, "Who? Lisa? Becca? Jenny?""Jenny."Kari looked at me then for the first time-- just a glance. "Hey," she said again-- seeming to mean it a little bit more this time."Nice to meet you," I offered-- feigning interest. The rest of the house was dark, but I could dimly make out the shape of a man laying asleep on the couch behind Kari, white, seemingly naked-- and also quite skinny."Want a drink? I've got whiskey-- or whatever else--" Carrie produced two glasses, blew into one of them, then looked at the second and grimaced before placing it on the counter of dirty dishes to be done later-- at some future date. She found another-- a plastic mug that said LAMASTER