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Humpday Essay: Therapy Sessions

3 Sep

In walks a white guy – he stands tall, about 6’3”, looks to be in his early 20s.
He picks me out of lineup, he wants to get a drink. To my surprise, he only orders a coke.
and we go back to my room and talk.

Something is clearly off with this fellow.
He seems unusually uptight and un-sexual, like the last thing he wants to do is have sex.
He mentions “last time performance anxiety was an issue.”
I’m an intuitive person and this guy is making me more uptight than any fellow I have ever met.

“Do you drink?”
I asked.

“Sometimes” He says.

He explains that he’s a virgin and wants a blowjob, and then if “things go well” he wants to upgrade his party to having sex. I explain that if he decides mid-party that sex would be a good idea, he can pay me more money, I can leave the room, and come back and we can have sex then.

Ultimately tho, this guy is making me REALLY uncomfortable.

Before we exit my room I tell him, “Maybe having a drink or two beforehand will relax you. Howsabout you talk to the other girls, get a feel for who you jive best with, and once you figure out who makes you more comfortable, THEN decide which girl you want to party with, because I want to make sure you have a good time.”

We walk back to the parlor.

Getting the sense that this is a guy that is either on meds, or needs to be on meds, my gut is telling me to make a quick escape. I summon over Katrina to work her magic.

She takes him to the jacuzzi room for a good 10 minutes.
While he’s gone I explain to the other girls, “This guy is one of the weirdest fellows I’ve ever met, somethin’ aint right!

They say, “oh no, be agressive. Or try to calm him down..that usually does the trick.”
And I’m thinkin, “oh no no NO, this guy is DIFFERENT, trust me.”

Katrina comes out of the room with a telltale stare on her face. The kind of face that none of her Ho-Combat tactics have worked.
The 3rd girl (Tessa) then grabs his hand immediately before he can escape, to take him back.

When Tessa and this guy are out of earshot, Katrina agrees with me.  she thinks this fellow doesn’t want to have sex, and he might possibly be gay. All of her normal verbal porn that she spouts off to customers was met with this fellow by a blank stare. We retreat to Katrina’s room and say that maybe the 4th girl, Reagan, needs to try being pushy…dom style.

Like hookers on a mission, we combine forces, retreat to Katrina’s room in swift beeline format, and we suit Regan up in Katrina’s vinyl halter top.  This puts her fantastic breasts on prominent display. We swarm in and Katrina’s pulling the vinyl chaps off from their hanging place on the wall. Reagan tries to peel them on to go full dom-style, but to no avail.

We see Tessa exit her room (which is directly across from Katrina’s.) The guy, once he recognizes a nearly naked Reagan (pussy in full view!) fully TURNS HIS HEAD THE OTHER WAY! Who denies themselves a chance at free frontal nudity? Weirdo.

We’re out of girls and only Reagan is left. As Reagan exits Katrina’s room to embark on her dom mission, I say, “try being a bitch, be a cunt if you have to!”

Tessa immediately runs in the room with me in Katrina, agreeing, that YES, no typical tactics work on this man. He either didn’t have the money for sex…or is off his rocker.

Patiently we all wait for Reagan like we’re in silent combat, til she comes out of her room.

…………………Is he booking?

……………………Has she got money?

We cheer for her – 4th time’s a charm.

Its a quiet night….and we want to get filled in on the results of our dom-mission.
We notice she enters and exits the room a couple times.
He’s re-booking. Extending his party.
When it’s all said and done…
Reagan explains what was off:

This guy is OCD. Compulsive handwasher, Obsesive cleanliness.
So much so, that he whacks off with a paper towel.
Its evident during his party how uncomfortable he is with the lack of cleanliness
(an issue no amount of baby wipes and rubbing alcohol can resolve.)
In the end, we simply feel sorry for the poor guy, and wonder what kinda crazy shit his mom must have told him growing up so that when he beats off, he’s too afraid to touch his own skin.

Sometimes you’re a hooker…sometimes your a psychiatrist. For Reagan, today was one of those days.


Humpday Essay: Zapatos Bandito

25 Aug

Since Wednesday is “Humpday” and all – every week I’m going to give you a detailed description of whoever I bone on Wednesday – whether good or bad.

Zapatos Bandito
take your zapatos off next time
Its shortly after midnight.

There is one Mexicano in the bar.

The old owner of this place (god rest his soul) used to refer to the Mexicans as our “bread and butter” – especially come winter.

I didn’t much feel like talking or fucking but my co-worker Dinna (she is from Greece) down the hall tells me in her accent, “the Mexican in the parlor was looking at you. You should talk to him. He’ll be an easy $100.00 and he comes quick.”

(For those of you who don’t know, its standard fare that any time a Mexican comes in here, he can get a super quickie for $100.00. He’ll get 10 minutes or less on the clock, and any Mexican who tries to bargain for more, knows that he is trying to get more than the standard rate for the standard time. I have gotten more time out of a Mexican before, but they come in packs, and they come regularly – I don’t view them so much as sex as I do a means of “clearing my rent” for the day.)

I take my friends advice, and I talk to him. I talk first in english.

I get him to agree to go to my room.

Then I say, “como te llamas?” and I discern from his “blahblahblah” that he says, “you know Spanish, you are full of it!” and I tell him, “no I do not know spanish, I am from California, so I have a good accent.

My espan-yole es oooon po-kee-to.” I tell him.

Back in my room, my typical opening line:

“Sexo y mal mal?” I say (sex and blow job?)

“no, only sexo” he says.

“quantos tee-em-po?” (how much time?)

“quantos for twenty minutes” he says.

“beinte min-u-tos es dos ciento sinquenta.” (250 bucks for 20 minutes.)

“No no no!” He says. Too much.

He wants more time, he only has 100 bucks.

“Oh no!” I say.

“All the Mexicanos know you get dies minutos pour cien!”

“Keensay minutos?” he asks (15 minutes)

“Dos-ay minutos!” I say. 12 minutes. Final offer.

“No? Ok lets go. “

We start walking down the hall.

Almost back in the parlor he says,

“Trace-ay minutos!” (13 minutes.)

Ok, deal.

Whatever. I only make them put 10 on the clock anyway.

Which is above my typical “8 Mexican minutes” for 100 bucks.

They usually cum in five anyway, so it never matters.

I get back and this guy doesn’t want to take off his clothes.

“You don’t even wanna take off your zapatos?” I ask (shoes.)

No, he says. This guy wants to leave his fuckin’ shoes on.

Ok. Whatever.

Then I wonder if Dinna was getting karmic payback for when I dirty hustled her because this guy had a larger-than-average dick, fucked hard, and DID NOT CUM anywhere close to “early”! What the hell was she talking about?

He wanted it from behind, he wanted to put me in this weird sideways direction…and I’m sitting here thinking about all of this while my bed is moving sideways, I’m falling off, and the position is generally uncomfortable.

The sideways fuck hurts my pussy, and I don’t like these acrobatics.

At least I just worked out prior, and stretched, and did the splits. Otherwise, my legs wouldn’t have been so accommodating either.

The sweat…too.

One LONE BEAD OF SWEAT dripped from HIS FACE, as if in slow motion, on to MY FACE.

I really wanted to pry him off of me and was wondering when the hell the new boss was gonna call “time’s up.”

By the end of the fuck I knew I’d been had by Dinna. At least he paid my rent.

“Mas tiempo?” he asks.

Wanting to pay me for more time.

No”, I say,

“Your penis is muy grande and my vagina is done.”

“Maybe next time you will take off your shoes!”

Monday Rundown: BrothelBabe’s Boffs of the week

23 Aug

Earnings before rent was taken out:

About 1000.

Total Boffs: I didn’t count the Mexicans….but the notable boffs were about five. If I can give you five every week, I will.
7 minute man race!


1. the 7  minute man race

Two college age guys run in here, the wind following them, and decided on their way down from Tahoe that they wanted to do a “seven minute man race” – which involved running down the hall naked together (yes, we got approval from management), each guy boffs a girl for 7 minutes, and whoever ends up in a 2nd holding area (where a super cute judge we appointed was waiting) wins! I told them to make it a real dude party, they each had to shotgun two beers when they finished f*cking a chick, and they agreed. This might be my all time #1! My BB (bed buddy, girl who I share a bed with) and I cannot stop laughing about it. Thanks boys.

2. Mr. 200%

a fit, blonde, blue eyed 44 year old who probably would have been VERY crush-worthy in his senior year of college, noticed me the moment he walked in the door, and I noticed him noticing me. He was all about my freshly shampoo’d hair and the fact that I looked like I just “threw on” the little dress I was wearing. He lied about his job at first. Or maybe he lied about it later…cuz first he said he worked in computers, then he said he worked for the government, and had gone to area 51 recently. But however you slice it, I soaked up every compliment of him telling me I was the prettiest girl in the house, and my favorite line was “You have me turned on two hundred percent!” I didn’t know that was possible, but I’ll take it.

3. Mr. Millionaire

Close friend who came with Mr. 200% – when I finished boffing Mr. 200%, he was there waiting…and was calling all the other girls “liars” because they refused to blow him without a condom on. Mr. Millionaire had a GIANT wad of cash that he had just won playing roulette. Supposedly he is a competitive gambler and had won a couple million bucks last year gambling too. This particular day he won 8 grand. And had to bring in the whole stack in his pocket. He handed me a benjamin for no particular reason, because he liked my face. He dropped a couple 20s on the floor which I was going to pick up but when another girl pointed them out, instead of giving them to her, he handed those to me too! Turns out Mr. Millionaire fancies himself a “producer” and when he found out I want a career in hollywood, he was ALL ABOUT taking me back to my room to discuss business. He told me I’d have to lose my ass and my hips…slim down, have to upgrade my tits by a cup size or two to “make my waist look smaller” and I’d have to get a  SERIOUS makeover- heels, updo, new makeup, new dresses, the works. He said he’d pay for it all if I came down to vegas, and that I needed to call him on Monday (today!) to discuss when that would happen. I gave him my phone number. The day after, he texted me wanting to know if I would be his “girl” going to Hawaii with him. I said he’d do better to put me to work first, and I wouldn’t go on any vacation for free, he’d have to pay me.

So far, he’s been the only man I’ve ever met who wanted to discuss business ideas while I was sitting on top. Brilliant. And thanks for the Benjamins.

4. Mr. “Don’t touch my wang.” Indian guys are always a special scenario because they never pull their foreskin back to clean off the smegma. This guy was no exception. Except he said he didn’t want me to touch his wang because it hurt, and it hurt to pull back the foreskin even more. Judging by the swelling of a vein on his wang, he seemed like he never beats off and the real reason it hurt was because he was majorly backed up. He wanted to have fun in the hot tub but the whole time didn’t want me to touch his wang. We had to switch condoms out of the jacuzzi…he didn’t understand that the heat of the water ruins the integrity of the latex. Once he finally got to the sex part, he came in like two seconds. He had time to keep going but he seemed embarrassed and wanted to get dressed and leave. Aww. I told him to practice pulling back the foreskin every day. He didn’t even know WHY you have to clean that area. Cause Smegma smells. Duhhhh.

5. Mr. Cum on my tits

I was half awakebut hadn’t earned my keep for the prior day so I went to a lineup and this older white dude picked me out of lineup. No work involved, easy! Except for the fact that he kept going soft during sex. His request? The no-condom titty f*ck. One of my alltime “imma barf” moments….but at least he got his holly jollies. That’s what we’re here for, folks.