Viewing the local antiquities

The long march 
Gabrielle always makes me wait a little; she chats first. I'm already stripped, and we sit on the bed side by side; she slips off her pumps. She wears black pants with hip buttons: when she's ready, two moves expose her completely: She never wears panties; it's a whore's form of Taylorism.

Looking down sidelong I see her neat bush.

She gives little whimpers as I suck on her tit. I rub myself hard on the blanket.

I straddle her belly; my dick bobs in her face. I rest my ass on her tits. As she raises her head up and opens her lips to suck me, in, I reach behind her head with two pillows and prop her head up. She grabs my cheeks with both hands and pulls me into her mouth
checking my motion to look down along my spit slick latex length, then letting her engulf me again.

She uses a lot of saliva; it's like fucking a cloud.

We cuddle spoon fashion during my refractory period.

I reach round and twiddle her fleece and play with her cunt until I feel fluid. How I wish she was safe to eat! I get on my knees and she rolls on her back. I put one finger all the way up and wiggle: She whimpers, humping my hand.

She looks up at me heavy-lidded, takes my dick, jerks me hard, and rolls on the rubber. I push her legs apart and so on and so forth. I stayed in her a bit after I came because I was still hard.

And we're spooning again. My head on her chest, I lie between her spread legs.

"I can hear your heart beat."

Then suck on her tits and rub myself on the quilt. She rolls on her back and opens her legs but I reach under her ass and lift gently up so she gets on all fours, reaches over the the nightstand, and roots in her purse for the lube, but I put a hand out to say No: with her twat wet, I rub my tip up and down her, insert, though still semi-soft. She reaches a hand under me, tickles my balls, but slightly too hard, so they ache for a moment.

So still semi-soft I pull out and lie down on my back: she kneels, reaches under herself, and puts me up into her. She's on top, and grinding, grinding, grinding to make me hard. But I need friction and pull out, again, get her on her back, pull her down on the bed so her head doesn't bang on the bedboard, insert, and get harder.

Thrust for a while, and faster, then faster, slow down, and soften, but keep on very slowly.

Could the angle be wrong: I raise myself up on my forearms so I can dig into her better and sure enough I get harder: faster, faster, slow down again, softening, a nubbin again, still thrusting my pelvis.

I can feel my dick, so small, a pinkie, but feel cuntal wetness around it as I thrust in and out slowly, never stopping. In fact, I can't stop, since What will she think?

"My problem has never been coming too slowly."

For leverage I raise myself up on my elbows again, feel myself harden, feel sweetness gather on the sides of my dick. She puts her heels. On. My. Calves and I'm longer and all hard and start to go faster. Sweat drips from my forehead onto her face. My pelvis takes over and jerking me in, jerking me out of her, my pubic bone slams against hers, she whimpers, my pelvis spasms like a broken-backed rabbit, the rattling of futon planks, and the lamp touching the frame tap tap tapping. I bang her. She's cooing cooing panting grunting and oh finally finally finally relief I've climbed her I'm through her and Oh oh oh oh....

More cuddling.

"Your face is all red."

I roll on my back and roll her on top of me and rub her back to relax her until her beeper goes off.

In the morning I shake the three green torn Trojan packets out of the bedclothes.


Infinite variety 

Kim was old for a whore. She kept her hair pragmatically short and her peaked face was lined, though the body beneath that little black dress turned out to be smooth and firm still. She'd clap her hands and jump up and down when I came through the door to the brothel she ran.

She shows me into the room, and hands me some soap: peppermint oil.

"I'll make you feel like a king."

The only brothel I've ever attended where I could walk from my cube to the shower, then back, unescorted.

After my shower, face down, eyes closed, stripped in the darkened and too-cool room, I hear the door open, then close, then the sound of unzipping and silk slithing down flesh.

I smell of clean peppermint. She annoints me with oil.

Kim is strong: Snapping the cartilage in my fingers and toes, pounding the soles of my feet, shaking the flesh of my thighs, stretching my calves by bending my legs at the knee, digging her thumbs deep into my tight neck. She helps me know how to work at relaxing, and at some point in each session I surrendur, float off into calmness, easily breathing in the moment unthinking:

Then she pauses:

Then she brushes up my calves with her nails, up my thighs, to my glutes, which she circles, caressing, then:

Finally rimmed out, I turn over and pull her down to me. We French: Like Ming taught me, I suck her lower lip's pulp into my mouth, and nibble along it, probe her silvery mouth for her tongue with my own and finding it swiggle around it, pause for her to probe me if she likes, then surprise her by sucking her tongue into my mouth: Then break the suction and move to her breasts, flutter her uncracked heavy nipples erect, then kiss up her neck to French her again. Then break off to snuffle her neck—Asian kissing—then move up to nibble an earlobe. Then French her again. Then:

Her tongue is big, broad, flat, slightly rough: I know from her tongue round my tongue, at my perineum, under my balls at the smooth spot, in my anus.

My routine, then: Saturdays, I take the bus out to her place in the Sprawl; in general, I like a 4:00 time slot, since that falls well with my circadian rhythms, and also the whores are all in, but none are likely to have been taken.

The bus lumbers out into the desert: past new malls, dead malls, chain stores, 99 cent stores, the odd '50s motel with neon, cable in every room, free telephone, all for {30} a night. Desert shacks, abandoned shopping carts, the land stunned, lying flat under the sun.

The hour's ride dovetails neatly with the Viagra's onset, and the heat of the desert helps matters along.

The bus stops right opposite Kim's brothel ("Healing Touch"). I walk to ATM in the strip mall beyond, in back of the steak house, already stiff, and feel myself thrust every step. Having extracted her rate, I step to her door: She shares a storefront with a fundamentalist mission.

Later, the Victoriaville authorities tried to arrest her: It turned out that in her part of the Sprawl, there was no law against whoring, and she brought this to their attention so forcefully that they arrested her for disturbing the peace.


Over time, Annie 
got looser, so much so that in our last few appointments I didn't come twice, no matter how hard I worked or for how long, so finally I started faking it, since I enjoyed her so much for so many other reasons. Since I always did her the second time doggy style, I could get the condom off before she could see it was dry, with no come in it. Her tipsheet said she was "open-minded," so there was a tighter alternative, but to my regret I never bought that.


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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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