I stopped by 8141 at the usual time, 4:30.
"Jennifer!" I said.
But from behind the curtain came another whore, not Jennifer.
"Jennifer!" I said.
And the mama-san brought Jennifer out to me: She was wearing a faded blue-checked shirt and jeans; her face was lined and worn in the light, not like I remember. I tugged on gently on her sleeve. She pushed me gently to the other whore, who took my hand. "It's OK," Jennifer said, and pushed me gently toward her.
And upstairs I went with her. "Jennifer, her breasts—" she said.
"Jennifer is my friend," she said. "Can you pay?"
She kneels to work in front of me, digs her finger into my anus up to the first knuckle while sucking me, but she hasn't induced me to let myself go, and so my ring is still tight: The pleasures of the second or third knuckle, of greasy, heating reciprocation aren't present.
The act registers as lewdness, rather than provoking as pleasure. The fact of service, rather than the experience of this service, becomes the gratification. "Oh, now she's doing this?" More like a spectacle in which I am a ticket holder, at which I assist, in the French sense.
Perhaps I am jaded; perhaps I experienced Jennifer as if she was from the country, fresh of the boat.
Deftly, she swings round to 69 position, still sucking and fingering me, and puts her lips to my face: The house seems to require shaved pussies. Can they imagine hairlessness is attractive? I don't want a child, that's not the attraction. Then again, the hairlessness shows that she's clean, without lesions. Brownish pink cushiony outer lips, light stubble: I press down on her cheeks and grind her pelvis against my chest to give her some proprioception.
During the table shower, she'd paid special attention to my crack and hole, and since the specialites de maison include rimming, I'd expected that: But not a little ripping sound, as of a foil package being opened.
She smacks her lips noisely, slurps, and chews on my cheeks: But all I feel is warmth, and flat pressure: No roughness of tongue at my anus: She's using a dental dam. The latex transmits pressure and heat, but no fluid or touch—for which, gladly, I'd trade the sound effects.
She lies back and opens her legs. Generally, I avoid missionary because I worry I'll fall out, and in any case doggy style is less strain on my back, but—What the heck? I'll never choose her again. So! Why not test myself, even if I will miss looking down at her dragon tattoo—
So crawling over her I point myself at her and she reaches up and puts me to her, then insert myself—vertically, down—and she sighs, once:
Cupping her skull in my hands for a point of leverage head raised as if dog paddling:
She contracts?! If I didn't know better, I'd swear she contracted. Again?
Raisng myself up on all fours I withdraw very slowly and carefully, so she could be sure the condom had not slipped off or spilled, then scunch down on the bed and lie between her open legs, my head between her breasts. Gabrielle: "I can feel your heart beat." She massages my neck with strong fingers
"What is your name?"
"My name is Lucy. Ask for me when Jennifer is not here."
I wonder if they talked about me after.
Questions for study and discussion
All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."