The Viking and I went to see Bawdy Storytelling, a dirty version of The Moth.  Every month there’s a different theme, and September’s was “Cut-Rate Coitus.”  I noticed on the program that there were fewer bios than normal, which meant there were fewer storytellers than usual.  Dixie, the creator and hostess is always changing things up.

There were some very good storytellers including a guy who, even if he had not told a story about going to Burning Man, I would have tagged as a Burner anyway.  He was very blond and very tan.  His shirt was open to show off his tanned and hairless chest.  He wore sunglasses on stage.  His story culminated in him holding aloft  in the Reno Walmart parking lot a pair of panties that belonged to the woman he just banged in the store’s ladies’ room.  Nice!

Dixie began keeping track of how much – or how little – each storyteller had to spend to make the sex happen.  (The Burner spent nothing since the condom they used was hers.  Oh, and he got panties.)  Dixie also mentioned that they were short one storyteller that night and that if any of the audience members wanted to tell a story that fit within the theme, she’d pick some names out of a hat after the break.

During the break Dixie asked me to put my name in the hat.  I had been a storyteller at a few of the previous Bawdy events, and while I’m not completely comfortable on stage, I am getting better.  Up to that point no one had volunteered and Dixie was worried the show would be short.  I put my name in and figured I’d be going on stage.

I had to think of a story that fit into the theme of cheap sex.  This is the story I would have told had my name been pulled out of that hat.

I placed an ad on Craig’s List, which, of course, is free.  I was looking for a good time with a guy who could carry on a decent conversation and who could host.

At the time my ex-husband and his girlfriend were living with me.  They severely messed with my sex life – at home.  They weren’t my parents so I could go out and fuck whenever I wanted.

As with any post in the Casual Encounters w4m section, my listing got a lot of responses.  I finally settled on a guy who said he was in town for business.  Yes!  That meant he would be hosting … in a hotel.  That meant hotel sex.  That meant sleeping on a bed.  (I had been sleeping on my couch when the Ex and his girlfriend were “sharing” my space with me.)

The guy, who I quickly dubbed Hotel Guy was in his 40s, married, and from Atlanta.  He was in town to do some consulting work with a major health insurer.  We fell into a routine where he’d email me to check on my availability and I’d meet up with him at whichever hotel he happened to be staying that week; he went home on the weekends.

We didn’t see each other every week, since he was in town to work, not fuck all night.  Some weeks he worked too much.  Some weeks he couldn’t find any rooms in the city and stayed in the East Bay.  Some weeks I was busy fucking other people.

When we did get together I’d take a cab to the hotel in San Francisco where he was staying.  When I didn’t have the cash to pay for the cab, I’d call him and he’d come to the cab to pay the cabbie.  When I was able to pay, he always reimbursed me.  So far still free for me.

We went to dinner sometimes, and to drinks often.  He always paid.  Free for me.

We had fun sex.  He had a nice thick cock.  Free for me.

In whatever hotel he stayed, I’d take at least one bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and try to get even more lotion.  I love having a little bottle of lotion with me at all times.  I even got some lotions for friends.  All of it was free for me.  Between the good fucking and the toiletries, I was coming out ahead.

But I truly came out ahead when he sent me on my way in the mornings.  He’d give me cab fare back home, usually $20.  I don’t think I ever took a cab.  Instead, I took the bus, which was only $2, or I walked, which was free and healthy.  I’d pocket the remaining cash.

On the average night Hotel Guy and I spent together, I got a ride to him, drinks, at least one good fucking, a night in a nice hotel room, hand lotion, fresh air and exercise, and $20.  Fucking Hotel Guy was not only cheap for me, it was profitable.

It’s possible I would have won Dixie’s contest to determine who got their sex the cheapest.

I swear.  True story.

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