Weekend Journal 4-13-13: Pay for Play

17 Apr

days inn

She opened the door; it was one of those courtyard Days Inn type hotels where they have a walkway outside and all the rooms face the parking lot. She was naked. Muttering to herself. My buddy, Greg, asked me if I wanted to go first or second. I said second. I like to watch people fuck. Plus I was drunk as shit and had beat off three times that afternoon; I would need the extra steam to get a boner.

She was a tiny girl, looked Italian or something. Really young face, that was her thing. Must get a lot of guys who want to fuck little girls. Except her tits were pancaked out from giving suck. She kept talking, chattering, murmuring uh huh uh huh uh huh over and over back in her palate, like she was trying to cough a hair out of her throat.

I watched them fuck. Uh huh uh huh uh huh. Greg is a talker. You like gettin’ fucked like that, don’t you you little whore. Uh huh. He’d tried to go in raw and she appeared to think about it. Good to know that hookers will do that. I bet every single guy tries. No man about to fuck believes STD’s are real.

I watched them fuck, and then it was my turn. What sucks about hookers is they don’t stroke your hair or anything, tickle your back, whisper in your ear. They just start sucking your flaccid dick. Bareback oral, too abrupt. She kept mumble-humming uh huh uh huh uh huh around my dick, but when I pushed her head down too hard she switched to uh-uh uh-uh. Slowly the meat rose. I regretted not taking one of Greg’s “Night Rider” pills, which he swears by. Everybody in the porn industry uses them. Uh huh. I told her to put her ass near my face so I could look at her pussy and asshole. Men are visually oriented.

Then she got on top of me and started sliding her cooch on my bare cock. You want to blow all over my clit? This is called the “Camel Slide,” I was told later. They all do it. I was shocked by this news like an elderly person learning about sexting. Hookers rub their bare vaginas on your unprotected meat pipe now. Uh huh huh huh uh huh. Well shit, I figured, if she’s got diseases I got ’em now too and vice versa, so I might as well try to slide my helmet in there. But uh-uh, she made me put a condom on. No idea why. She didn’t give a shit. She was muttering because of meth, had been up for days, had fucked a dozen other men that day in the Fontana Days Inn, had basically barebacked me already. But they all have boundaries, some part of them they hold back. Something they only give their boyfriend maybe. I couldn’t cum. I told her to suck my dick again while Greg fucked her from behind. He was hard again; the Night Rider was working out. I wanted to cum in her mouth because I needed to put my seed in her body somewhere. But I couldn’t nut. I mean, she had kids. Someone made her like this, some pig her mother married twaddling her little asshole with his thumb while they watched ABC’s Friday Night Lineup, and her mom knew but if she called him out she would lose her man, at her age…. she was crazy from drugs, she would never recover, her kids would never recover, they would get molested, do drugs, become sad-eyed hookers themselves or molest more kids and on and on and on and here I was perpetuating it. I couldn’t cum. The humanity, you know. Or I was too drunk.

4 Responses to “Weekend Journal 4-13-13: Pay for Play”

  1. Anonymous April 17, 2013 at 1:20 pm #

    How much was she? I don’t know what the rates are nowadays and I definitely don’t know what they’ve been like in LA.

  2. Little Miss S April 18, 2013 at 1:46 am #

    Fontucky’s finest, huh?

  3. emily April 18, 2013 at 10:24 am #


  4. I don’t know why you constantly feel the need to ameliorate your vile behavior with this feigned compassion: “Oooh, what happened to this poor girl to make her this way. So sad.” Like you give a fuck. You wouldn’t’ve been there in the first place if you gave a fuck. You can try to justify however you want: she’s a hooker, shes a methhead, she needs the money for drugs, but you know there’s no excuse.

    You did the same thing with that sardonic, back-handed Misti dawn post where you luridly described her porn scene: I’m gonna lambast you on my blog, but just know that I feel bad about whatever life events occured to make you the filthy whore that you are now.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: