the prostitutes come in at £2 / minute...
for an hour's worth of delight that's simple math:
£120...
after my last encounter with the Romanian:
timid little thing, still in her 20s...
timid or frigid: she shouldn't be in the profession...
i left feeling like a castrated harem
handler / oud player...
         i couldn't take out my frustration of a limp
whittle richard on her...
i kissed and caressed her...
i don't suppose any other man might vent his
anger at being limp...
ineffectual: hollow... purposiveness having
evaporated: all that's spirit, energy: animation
reduced to this shrimp ****...

after the hour i just sat in the antechamber
to all the other rooms of hellish delights
when she walked in...
her face is still burning into my brain like
the face of the my ex's 14 year old sister when
we were going out in school...
a rush blood to every part of the body...
blurry vision... lust beyond measure...
                      strange how age changes...
it's nothing spectacular between say... me 35
and her... 31...
but then as with her Khadala... Khada...
Kharada... Khadaha... kiraz... afet...
                lalam... ipek...
                                  leyla... neylan... nuray...
                  serap...
my irises disappeared and perhaps
even the sclera...
                               all was black in my eyes...

and we talked about how disgruntled i looked:
do i look happy?
one thing led to another and i told her:
next time i'm here... i'll be taking you...
      
  how many days passed since the last time?
4... 5?
       wounded pride... got the better of me...
i'm not an erectile dysfunction!
i am not a castrated mouthpiece for the monks
to joke about on their abstinence route to
"elsewhere": i'm a ****** being!
                        this thing works and i'll prove it...
went sober for two days:
i blamed the excess drinking last time...
well: no better excuse mind you...
   and... prior to i ****** myself off to get the blood
running... several times... never once
reaching ******...
good... it works solo...

   the Romanian wasn't to my liking...
i wasn't going to just pick one up while the others
were busy... i was there for Khadaja and i wasn't leaving...
and no... i wasn't going to go for a full hour...
i wasn't sure...
the nerves might have got the better of me...
a plethora of doubts...
                                          esmerey... esana...

what a difference ******* the right woman makes...
i forgot how **** it is when you both appreciate
your cleanliness...
  and she performs ******* without a ******...
that she showed me her tongue with her mouth open
prior...
- who do i look like... jennifer lopez...
or... kim kardashian (god forbid ha ha)
- of course jennifer lopez...
- what do you see in my eyes?
- everything...
- i like your face... your remind me of that
actor, blonde... with a beard and all that...
- bradley cooper?
- yeah... you have a beautiful face
- i'm also fascinated by yours...

a day later and i'm battling a hard-on...
just shy of having her fill in the rest...
  nonetheless: a disorientating hard-on...
gravity is pushing me into the chair, the sofa...
while squatting and smoking a cigarette...
two beers down and my nerves are soothed...
but the CINEMA of last night is...
******* has suddenly become boring...
beside boring: just a performance stunt...
unrealistic - jerking off seems beyond silly too...
that bony imitation **** that's my hand
isn't going to cut it...
when i've just had... the best ******* in my life...
well... it was taking its time:
it only took it... its sweet 16 years...

all of a sudden i wasn't worried whether she
wouldn't be satisfied with my size...
that little grunt and that pulling of the face
when she finally slurped on the rubber
and slurped some more before sitting on me...
well... at first squatting and then completely
with me gripping her ***...

god... and that moist mouth... oozing both hot
and cold... kissing or rather: smoothing...
tongues and all...
odd: i never imagined myself as being much
of a pornographer...
but after 3... 4... years of bony-**** desert...
             and prior... just some unremarkable *****...
comes this Turkish demon-woman...
but there's something grander...
in advertisement and what not...
interracial profiling... white girls taken out
by... Tyrones... bruce lees... and muhammads...
well... if we're playing this interracial game...
**** it... i'm not staying for a white girl...
oddly enough my ex was already a product
of interracial antics: technically she could pass off
as a higher caste miss from the Raj...
but i never expected to have these sort of hots
and hard-ons for a Turkic girl...
then again... technically...
the Caucasus... and i'm a descendent of a people
that migrated north... probably prior
the Turks moving in from somewhere
                                       around Mongolia...
back to the roots...

oh but the added joy that... there's so much transparency
in prostitution...
there... money on the table...
there... a clock on the wall...
    there: we don't need to play games...
we don't have to fake politeness...
                            the naked body on a dissecting table...
and who the hell invented strip-clubs?
who the hell wants to play that fiendish
game of: look... but don't touch...
touch... but don't taste...
performance fears?
so... just looking at it... makes drinking a beer:
not more frustrating?
well... i wasn't going to jump on that only-fans
bandwagon... either...

the prostitutes come in at £2 / a minute...
that's £120 per hour...
                     i don't think... maybe surgeons
earn the equivalent...
i'm not even going to mention... footballers...
among all the other profession...
who the hell earns... £120 an hour and
gets properly pounded at the same time?
no... there's not going to be any shame...
   for the best **** in my life...
                                            only celebration...
and next time... it'll be for an hour...
i'm sure we'll get around to doing it doggy
style while doing it before
the mirror and looking at each turning into
            a Francis Bacon study of ****...

all the more... she also inspired me to give up
drinking... so i can save up what i'd usually spend
on drinking and spend it on her...
smoking will follow suite...
                        hell... if it can be this good:
what else matters? why should anything else matter?
i'm also going to ignore those
butterflies in my stomach...
         realistically: this is not love...
                       just the zenith of carnality...
    then again: it would be a funny story...
how i fell in love with a *******...
                           all that white knight *******...
ha ha.