Somali Spinster, part 6

A notification came up on my screen: a Facebook message. I clicked it and saw that it came from my new husband. It started off with the customary Muslim greeting and ended with 'excited to see you'.

I looked at his pictures and saw that he wasn't bad looking, relatively young, in his thirties. He definitely is not going to eat pussy, I said to myself. But is that what I want? My lips opened as I thought back to the story where the beard brushed the woman's...

What is sex between Somalis like, I ask myself again and why is he excited? Why am I scared of men in general, and not just Somali men? These stories make sex so simple and pleasurable, but is that what real life sex is like? There are other types of sex, beyond these ones.

Images are forming in my head now, of violence, humiliation. I want to write them down.

I opened up a blank sheet document on my phone and tried expressing myself. But it's going to be naive, I can tell. 

'Driving home at two o'clock in the afternoon, a fisherman's finishing time, I stop at the lights in Kuwait city, and look around me, bored, waiting for a green signal. There are an innumerable amount of tall glass buildings blocking out the sun and casting gigantic shadows of respite. I look to see pedestrians who have to walk in between buildings where the sun cuts through and see them increase their pace when they do so. I half expect them to disintegrate when they enter the light. One of these pedestrians is a young Somali woman who is wearing a nurse's outfit. The light turns green, and I drive off slowly to see where she was headed to. When I pass her, I see her turn into a building that says 'Al Amiri hospital'. I make a mental note of the hospital and the pretty features of this fresh faced beauty, and drive off.  

In my Somali community, courtship is subject to cultural practice rather than any rules of attraction, and I take matters in hand accordingly. Within an hour I find out who she is and arrange a date with her uncle, who is my uncle too, which pleases me to find out. He arranges a date between me and her father. We have a good time and share life stories, life goals, with a compliment here and there, well received, and well executed. This successful impression meant that I am married by the end of the month.  

The first real interaction between her and me is when I see her undressing, her large breasts dangling like bait in front of me. I am a man of some experience and so I direct this girl, a beautiful girl, in her movements.  

'Like this?' she asks, lying down like roadkill, staring at me all the while with beady, mistrustful eyes. 

'Lift your legs up and stay like that,' I instruct her, looking between her legs, examining matters. 

I see that I have a jewel on my hands. She has been sealed, her clitoris cut off, her labia cut off, leaving only a tiny hole for intercourse. I rejoice at this unexpected delight. Somali women are a four sided dice and you never know which side God will give you. Some have not been touched, but some have been turned into jewels for their husbands. I look at her thighs, her muscles having just the right definition without being too masculine while all her lines have youthful femininity. She also has flexibility, her knees bending wide as she awaits me. Her eyes still look mistrustful, or is that contempt? Should I tell her that she's beautiful and that I love her?' 

I shivered at what I had written down. A man looking at me like that, seeing what kind of pussy I have, and touching me afterwards? I would not survive the night, I don't care what happens in consequence. If I have to give my body in such a circumstance, you can take my soul afterwards, damn me if you want! No humiliation is more violent than such a scene, not even hellfire. A flush of fear and dread took hold of me, when, suddenly, the website on the card came to me. What if I do have sex with a non Somali, so it lessens the blow of the first night with my Somali husband?  

I went on the website and searched. What I saw stimulated me, but not my sexuality, nor my curiosity, but my imagination. I started thinking of what kind of person used these types of websites and had these types of relations, which, as I scrolled through the profiles, I could never do. Abhorrent, immoral, degrading no better than the scene in the piece I wrote. As I thought about these persons involved in such practices, such images came before me that only the inexperienced can come up with, and I wrote them down to amuse myself. 

'I found myself staring at my first born out of the glass doors of my dining room windows. My first child in the final years of life, beginning its struggle against death. Its nether regions had black lacerations, hollow cracks were running along its ravished trunk growing in length and depth every year. My first born, child of sweat and labour, desire and achievement, love and loneliness. A rowan tree. Smiling, I saw that I have orange grandchildren, for the tree had produced berries. Within a few years it would be dead, killed by the fungi eating away at the roots. My baby! The tree was next to a drying rack, lodged into the stone. The soft wires that connected the metal poles held the clothes of my actual flesh and blood but I'll be damned if I don't love my first born more like all fathers do.  

I turned my attention away, upwards, sorrowful. The early winter sky was silver, a mesh of clouds covered the entire skyline. The clouds moved apace like they were fleeing from the lashings of a sun which was trying to cut them open or spur them on faster. Its rays were beginning to make perceptible fissures in the thickness of the clouds, breaking them into equal parts. How does this perfect geometry happen? I was interrupted in my musings by someone making a deafening racket in  the kitchen.  

'Did you see how they cut that tree in the back?' I asked my wife, trying to get one more moment of peace before the noise continued. 'They killed its beauty.' 

'It makes it stronger. What beauty?' 

'You have not a shred of romanticism in you.' 

I couldn't help but stare at my laughing wife who over the years had changed dramatically. When we first married, she was slim as a wraith; now she had become fat in all the wrong places. We look strange together. A mixed race Somali Pakistani man with the perpetual youth of a Somali and the flowing hair of a Pakistani, next to a fully Pakistani wife completely gone to seed. For the past few years all I could think about was that I should have married a Somali woman instead. At least they retain some sex appeal when they age, or have children. But this woman... If my parents were still alive I would curse them for guilt tripping me into this marriage when I had options far and wide. 

I looked back at the sky and saw that the sun had gutted the clouds and made them disparate, uneven, floating calmly to nowhere. Sighing, I bid adieu to my wife and left, climbing into the car to drive to a student who wanted driving instruction. The first one of the day and it was eight in the morning.  

While driving I saw that I still had time and a craving suddenly came upon me. Looking around, there was a shop and I parked nearby.  This off licence, an average off licence, the kind one sees all over London, had a fruit stand in the front. Unimpressed, I surveyed the tropical fruits. They didn't have the fruit, the durian fruit, that would satisfy my craving. It's unbelievable how a fruit that I had never tasted and only seen could create such an obsessive desire. Its odd structure and promise of original taste was what created it. Then something else took my attention away. There was this calling card on the ground. In fact, they were all over the ground. Scanning the surroundings, I saw that the stillness of post rush hour was upon the area and there were only a few people walking in the distance. Taking a deep breath, sure that I was being watched but unable to stop myself, I knelt down and quickly grabbed one of these cards, and buried it deep in my coat pocket. 'What was I thinking of?' I asked myself as I entered the shop, trying to hide the smile that wished to burst through. 

'What was that you picked up, brother?' the grinning idiot of a shopkeeper asked me. Stunned, I looked at him. 

'What do you mean? I can't pick up a coin that belongs to me?' I say laughingly, fishing out the coin that was in my pocket. Thank God, I had it there ! 

'How else should I pay?' I add while putting the coin next to the candy bar.  

'Well? Perhaps you thought I was interested in those cards? I am a family man, brother. With children, and a splendid wife; if only you saw her you would know how ridiculous this is.' 

The man never stopped grinning. But so what? I walked out having made my point. What mattered is not whether he believed it or not, but that I denied it. Forcefully at that, with all my soul ! But still, that was foolish. I'm too impulsive for my own good. Now will I forever have a mark on me.  

Making sure the card remained where it was, I made my way to this student. She lived about ten minutes away and it was five past nine. Damn that shopkeeper, how long was I protesting my innocence for ?  

I texted the girl, Julia, that I'd be a few minutes late, begging her pardon. She replied no problem. 

'Sweet girl,' I said to myself.  

Pulling up to the house, the girl was waiting in front. A fresh faced rosy girl of around eighteen. Whiter than the eyes of a blind man. 

'Hey, Ali,' she called out.  

'Hey, Julia. I do apologize for my lateness, but I had to pick something up. Hold on, let me put the sign up.'  

I got out of the car, smiling at the girl who smiled back so sweetly as she jumped in the driver's seat. 

Having pulled the driver instructor sign out from the trunk and having placed it on the roof of the car, I went to the passenger side and sat down. Julia had only just started to drive on the road. Her excitement couldn't help but infect others. 

'Remember, nice and slow,' I told her wistfully. 

'Why is it so cold in here!' she exclaimed. 'Let me turn the heat on.' 

She could make me do anything, I realized. 

'That tracksuit looks snuggly.' 

'Snuggly? Haha. It is. But it's still chilly,' she said pulling the car off. 'Are you playing with the clutch again?' 'No, I'm just covering it,' I said lying as usual. 

'Hey, you're Pakistani right?' 

'Half.' 

'Ok. Some Pakistani boy asked me out yesterday.' 

'Go for a Somali guy.' 

'Is that your other half?' 

'My better half.' 

'Haha.' 

'Either way, you're doing a great service for mankind.' 

'By mixing?' 

'Mhm.' 

'How did your parents meet?' she asked, turning to face me. I pressed the break a little just to make sure. 

'They met in Abu Dhabi. They both worked for a rich Arab. One was a domestic servant and the other was a personal assistant whose duty consisted of matters like driving the car. They had me in that country but I've been here for more than ten years now.' 

'You speak English really well.' 

'The Arab family arranged private tuition for their children and I sneaked in from time to time. I was an only child and my mother and her boss were really close.' 

'You don't even look Somali.' 

'What are you suggesting? Trust me, I fit the stereotype, don't worry about that.' 

Her rosy cheeks got rosier and her smile got more delightful.  

'Why did you come here?' 

'They thought they could make their fortunes here. They watched too many movies, created too many fantasies and heard too many rumours. My dad was tired of carrying shopping bags basically.' 

'So that wasn't an arranged marriage?' 

'No, theirs wasn't. It's funny how my dear mother didn't want me to do the same. She was scared of girls like you.' 

'Like me! Haha. Why don't you get a mistress?' 

'That's against my religion. What do I look like to you?' 

'Aren't you allowed multiple wives?' 

'My kids are too young now.' 

'How old are you?' 

'Thirty five.' 

'You look much younger.' 

'Somali genes are the fountain of youth ! I'm just waiting for these kids to grow up. I swear she keeps popping out kids as soon as the time gets nearer.' 

'Ugh. Desperate. I would never do something like that!' 

Such a sweet girl, who would never do something like that. Thinking about her freshness, I took the card and my phone out. The phone said eight pm.  

'I need someone fresh,' I said to myself. 'Allah, I need someone fresh!' 

I went to the website and clicked 'available in London.' 

'Brazilian, it has to be Brazilian! A fresh one!' 

Scrolling through the different profiles there was one whose face was blurred. She didn't want her face to be public knowledge, but she existed for public consumption. The irony made me chuckle. 

'Now how do I...ah  here it is. The number.' I proceeded to dial the number, my hands shaking with excitement. 

'Hi, baby,' a disappointingly deep female voice resounded through the ear piece. But I couldn't hang up, so I answer: 

'Hey.' 

'You want to make an appointment?' 

'Yes,' I replied firmly, trying to obscure my bristling teenage excitement. 

'What time?' 

'Are you free in thirty minutes?' 

'Yes, baby, perfect.' 

'Okay, text me the address and I'll be there.' 

'Okay baby. See you.' 

Done deal. Just like buying a candy bar. Nothing more. Laughing, I checked the phone for the text. Finding it, I put it in Google maps. A delicious candy bar.  

'And what is wrong with that ?' I said, doubt slowly creeping up. 'A true sin is only committed through emotional commitment,' I reasoned to myself. 'That's why it leaves lasting residues inciting you to commit the same sin again. Drugs are just like it. These addicts put their heart into smoking dope but this would be a cold transaction. This is like buying a candy bar and I may have only one once a year ! There is no emotion involved. I couldn't care less if I ever have a candy bar again.' 

Satisfied with my reasoning ability and its conclusion, I soon find myself pulling the phone off the holder and texting her that I had arrived. 

This was a grey modern building with four floors. Every flat had a pristine balcony with the cleanest glass windows. 'This complex must be new,' I thought to myself. 'Does she live here, or is this what whore houses look like?' 

I went up to the room she texted, fourth floor, flat eight. The hallway was all white, immaculate and warm. The lift was on the ground floor already. I'm pleased to find a huge mirror in this small lift. Keeping my foot on the far side of the lift door, to ensure a maximum of light, I looked at myself in the mirror. The black hair still strong, the teeth slightly tainted and the stubbles of a waning day all stood out to me. What stood out the most are the oriental eyes and the straight moustache. This moustache was the best decision I have ever made.  

When I get to the room, I take a deep breath, because I'm agitated by now. Much too excited. She opened the door quickly and I couldn't help but smile. In fact, at this point, I had been smiling for the better part of thirty minutes non stop.  

I stepped through the landing and entered the bedroom. The bed was low and large, with white pillows and coverings. It matched the cream armoire and light brown carpet. Disconcerted slightly by the inhuman cleanliness of the room, I turned to the escort: a voluptuous woman with a small waist and a relatively flat belly. Her hair was black with blonde highlights. Her skin colour also matched the room: light peach coloured with a slight tan that winter was in the middle of taking as tribute. She was lucky in that most of the fat she retained was in her arms and her ass, which was accentuated by the high heels. I muttered a little blasphemy at the sight of her. 

'You want to take your jacket off, baby? Relax. 

How long do you want to stay for?' I realised that I was nervous. 

'I don't know. It said sixty for fifteen minutes.' 

'You want that?' 

'Yes.' 

I certainly didn't need more than fifteen. Fishing through my pocket I took out the money. She counted it in front of me, walked to a little dresser next to the bed, and put it on top. I noticed a little bag. It was open and one could see condoms and lubricant in it. 

'I see,' I said to myself. 'Of course this is how it's done.' 

The black lingerie she had on was perfect for her figure.  

'Why on earth did I marry someone with an Asian figure that has no future?' I cursed at myself. 

'What's the service?' I babbled like an idiot. 

'You'll see. But gentle, okay. I'm sensitive.' 

My smile was so tremulous that I didn't want to look her in the eye as she took her bra off, approaching me. Then, for some reason, I bit her nipple. As soon as I had sunk my teeth into the nipple I knew that I bit down too hard. But my jaw had a mind of its own! She yelped in pain and moved back. I quickly apologized. There was no doubt that my inexperience showed and that was the reason she laughed rather than screamed after I almost took her nipple off.  

She instructed me to take my clothes off. I obeyed like I had no will of my own. Pressing her huge soft ass on my groin, I felt funny. She was perfect but I felt no sexual heat, and no movement downstairs. My nerves were blocking the blood flow in my veins.  

After lying down she gets a condom and puts it on my soft dick and then in her mouth. I focus like I never focused before to try and make something happen, thinking that the time will soon be up. She was making several sex noises that annoyed me more than anything and I got the impression that she used to be a stripper before. 

I'm about half way up when she goes to her little bag and gets out the lubricant and puts a little of it on her pussy. I watch all this like a child watches a circus, curious and amazed. She climbs on top because she realises we won't get anywhere relying on yours truly. 

She tried to play with the dick and make it harder, telling me to relax, annoyed that this was more difficult than it had to be. She then put the semi hard dick inside and bounced around. In near desperation, I grabbed her breasts to not lose what I have but to no avail. She gets up and looks at the dick to see it flopped and hopeless. 

'I don't know what to do,' she said to me. 

Her words finished off whatever life was in me.  

'The time, baby,' she added with a straight face. 

The alarm went off to back her up. 

'One more minute, baby.' I begged. 

I couldn't go without orgasm. Sixty pounds and the sexiest woman of all time? I pulled myself up in a show of determination. 

She stared at me and let out a noise to show her exasperation. But she had pity on me. All our time together was marked by my ineptitude and her pity. There was nothing sexual about it. 

She layed on her back with her legs up. I traced the length of her vulva with my finger.  

'Don't put your finger inside.' 

'Why?' 

'I had a bad experience.' 

Whatever could that be? Respecting her wishes, I put the undesirable finger to my nose and smelled it. The scent and the wetness of her pussy, or its simulation, for most of it was the lubricant, brought me up to semi hardness again because it concerned two of our most sensual senses. Trying to focus, I put it inside, because I can't let this trip be for nothing. I orgasmed within seconds, not out of desire or excitement but through sheer will power. And as my dick shrunk, the male ego swelled to its prior proportions.  Letting out a laugh I even managed a joke about my difficulties, swinging my dick around.  

'Hold on, wait. Don't take it off.' 

She got some tissues and wrapped it around my dick, pulling the condom off. Afterwards she passed some more tissues to me to wipe off. Baby wipes I noticed. 

Interesting. 

'Are you stressed?' she asked. 

'I don't know. I could be,' I said, smirking, looking in the mirror at myself. 'I might be many things.' 

'I like your moustache.' 

'Naturally.' 

Driving back, I went over the whole meeting in great detail. 

'That should have been much better than it was, with pity compliments to boot !  Damn my nerves. Or was it something else…I was nervous but how nervous was I really?' 

I was mulling on it as I drove home.  

'I can't let her last thoughts of me be that embarrassment.' 

Stepping out of the car, my skin felt the soothing effects of the cold night air.  Entering the house, I saw the wife. 

'The children asleep, baby?' 

'Baby?' 

That night I found that I had no problems with the wife. Curious. Surely it should be the other way around. 

The next day was colder than the day before. Winter was firmly over the threshold. Nevertheless, I had to see this woman again. The image she had of me had to be erased, come what may. By eight pm I was at the same modern building. When the girl opened the door, the first thing one saw on her face was surprise. And if I didn't know any better, a flicker of annoyance wafted across her features too.  

'Hey baby, long time no see,' I said, attempting a joke, but it didn't come out right. 

For some reason, what seemed like a good idea, an imperative, even, now caused me to feel some embarrassment. Why ? I'm ready and able. Yesterday I was nervous. It was my first time paying for a woman. My first time even with a woman who wasn't my wife. Of course it would be bad. Today would be different. Now I would show her. 

The girl herself stared at me like she couldn't figure me out. This gave me pleasure as I love it when I seem enigmatic to others.  

'I'm not giving you extra time, today,' she said to me sternly. 

The embarrassment underwent an exponential increase and I smiled, a smile that I felt for some irrational reason must appear a confident one. 

'Don't worry about that, baby. Everything will be alright. How much for one hour?' I asked elaborately, spreading the cash on the bed.  

She brightened up a little. 

'Yes, baby, exactly the right money.' 

I took my clothes off to waste no time. But this meeting was worse than the last one. The last one I could blame on the pressures of time. Now I had no such scapegoat. After every minute that ticked by, I felt mortification rising, and that is the worst thing possible in this situation. 

Midway through, the girl gets frustrated making ugly noises of exasperation. 

'Are you still stressed?' 

'You're not helping me with all these questions,' I said angrily. 'You're moving too fast and talking too much.' 

She then laid on her back like the first time and in the same way, I managed semi hardness and willed myself to ejaculate. But the male ego didn't return to its former self. I frowned at what happened but immediately dismissed it.  

'It must be her, not me,' I said to myself. 'But still, this is unusual.' 

Softened by the accomplishment of ejaculation, I said to her: 

'Maybe I am stressed. I don't know. Well, whatever, this happens I guess.'

'You have a problem.'

I laughed loudly.  

'Baby, that's the last thing I have. I screwed my wife's brains out last night.' 

'Oh, you're married.' 

'A beautiful woman,' I said to her for some absurd reason. 

'So you are here because you want something different?' 

'Yea, something like that.' 

In my head however I was already calculating how much more money I can use to see this same woman again. I had to erase this image she had of me and my 'problem', come what may !  

'I may need more time in between meetings. Yes, that's it. More time.' 

Two days later I was at the front door, midday this time, to switch things up. On the phone there was no doubt that she recognised me and when the door opened I wasn't surprised to find another girl. 

'She's had enough of my struggles,' I said to myself, shattered. 'And she will die with that image of me.'  

I felt like demanding to know where that woman was to show her things would be different this time but decided better of it. She had made her choice.  

This new girl was much less attractive and spoke very little English. She was Brazilian too, in her thirties, with heavy make up and excess weight mostly in her upper body. But at least she was a natural blonde.  

'How much time baby?' 

I put my hand in my pocket, irritated that I was forced to be with a woman on the level of my wife. Having enough money for an hour I said 'fifteen minutes'. No way she would get more than that. 

But then the most curious thing happened. As we went through with the meeting, I found that I had no problems at all. The meeting went as smoothly as sex with my wife. I knew that the reasoning of before was a lie to myself but this illuminated my mind. I seemed to have problems with attractive women only.  

Shocked, I pulled out the filled condom.

'So I have a fetish for ugly women?'

I made noises of disbelief which made the woman look at me strangely. She passed me baby wipes to clean up. Then I put my clothes back on, not looking or speaking a word to that woman, whose sweetness was evident not just in her caresses but in her sensitivity to other people's emotions. Somewhere in the crevices of my moral understanding I thanked her for it, but that voice was buried alive by another voice that screamed in outrage which paradoxically made me silent and cold towards her.  

My quietness persisted throughout the day and Julia, next to me driving the car for a lesson said with her usual energy: 

'Fuck you so quiet for?' 

I couldn't help but smile inwardly but outwardly I sighed and shook my head. I was miserable. 

'You wouldn't believe it if I told you.' 

'Try me.' 

I looked at her rosy cheeks and smile outwardly now, the ridiculousness of my situation plainly before me. 

'I can't fuck a beautiful woman.' 

'What? What do you mean?' 

'Exactly that. I can't 'perform' with a beautiful woman. I can only fuck ugly ones, like my wife.' 

Julia mouthed words and was confused. Then her mind cleared as my own words sunk in, and laughed aloud. A delightfully high laugh. I couldn't help but join her. 

'How crazy is that ?' I said close to tears from the laughter. 'I have some mental block that prevents me from fucking beautiful women. I have no problems getting things done from start to finish with the vilest of women, but as soon as I'm with an attractive one, my dick is dead. Pull over.' 

Her laughter was uncontrollable now and affected her driving. When she pulled over in a supermarket car park she put her head down on the steering wheel. She couldn't look at me without laughing.  

'I don't know how the fuck this happened. I must be brainwashed or cursed. How is it possible to only be able to fuck ugly girls?' 

'Stop,' she says, her body racking with laughter that looked painful. 'How do you know you can only fuck ugly girls?' 

'Because I was with a beautiful woman twice over the past few days.' 

'So you cheated on your wife,' she said slowly, as she realised the import of my words, her female solidarity flaring up. 

'Never. That's against my religion. I paid for her. It's like buying a candy bar,' I said with the disdainful wave of a blackjack player. 'If you pay for something it can't be sinful because your emotions aren't involved.' 

'You must be joking.' 

'No I'm not,' I said seriously, offended at the implication. 'Anyway I was with this beautiful woman twice and twice I couldn't perform. But then I was with two ugly ones, and I had no problems. How do you explain that ? With any normal man it would be the exact opposite !' 

'I don't know. Some people might be attracted to ugly women. What's wrong with that?' she said, laughing a little at the end. Her bewilderment was obvious too, whatever she said. 

'I refuse to accept that I have such a fetish. Never !' 

Julia became animated. 

'Was your wife attractive when you first married?' 

'Yes,' I said, hope and redemption rising before me. 'She was. Damn right she was!' 

'So that means you weren't always like this.' 

'No, definitely not.' 

'I think it's conditioning.' 

'Naturally.' 

'Your wife's ugliness has conditioned you and now you can only fuck women like her...ugly women.' 

'Yes. You're right. It must be so,' I said, sinking into apathy.  

'But if you were conditioned to be like this...' 'Yes?' I said, perking up once more. 

'...That means you can be deconditioned to go back to what you were before.' 

'Oh, Julia !' Immense gratitude makes me tearful, and I raised my hands to thank her, like I thank God. I quickly put my hands back down at the blasphemy and muttered a prayer for forgiveness. 

'You just have to work your way back. Start from the ugly ones. Then move up to average ones. And then after that,' Julia said with a deepening smile, 'you can fuck girls like me.' 

I began to take Julia's advice, saying to myself that within a month I had to be able to screw an attractive woman. Excited that I haven't fallen from grace, I drove to north London on a Thursday night and pulled up in a residential area. This is a paradise of ordinary semi detached houses, with the smell of curry potent in the air. The postcode sent to me led me to the most distinctive house in the street. It almost looked like a church, with a sharp, narrow, and high roof, the entrance being a big black door. I first walked beyond the house to scope out the area, making sure not too many people were around, and then turned back and knocked on the door.  

A tired looking woman in her fifties with blonde highlights in her hair opened the door. I was about to go back out as I had moved up by then to slightly below average women until she told me to wait in the living room.  

'The girls will be out soon.' 

I went into the living room. There was a big black sofa, covered with soft felt. In front of the sofa was a huge TV. They were watching something in the Portuguese language. On the right hand side was a door that led to a bedroom which had a racket of dance music coming out. And now from this door came five girls.  

The first thing I noted was that they had used heavy air brush in the pictures, particularly for the midsections and hip areas. Every girl was wearing lingerie, and by lingerie I mean bra and panties. The simplest, cheapest kinds, making it more basic underwear than lingerie per se. One was skinny with hideous breast implants that stretched her skin, discolouring them to look like two babies with microcephaly. Two others were similar in their body shape: chubby verging on obese. One was a beautiful mixed race woman with black hair, small waist and what looked like the softest breasts. The last one was the most average. Straight black hair, too much make-up, wearing a pink bra and cream panties.  

'Which one you want?' the mistress asks disinterestedly, looking more at the TV than any person in the room. 

I looked at the girls lined up in front of the TV and smiled.  

'Which candy bar will it be? I'm not ready for the mixed race one. The others are all between three and five out of ten. I passed three and am almost at five, so I'll go with a four. And that will be…' 

I chose one of the chubby ones, the less chubbier one out of the two. She also had a bra and panties on that clashed. The bra being black and the panties red.  

'Do they rent the underwear like they rent the rooms where they sell pussy?' I asked myself, bemused. 

The girl was very pleased to be chosen. The delight on her face gave me the warm feeling of a good deed, of charity. 

She walked out of the line up, telling me to follow her to the bedroom. The music was booming and I saw that they had put one of David Guetta's concerts on play. I despised this guy's music but let it pass.  

One good thing about the lower quality of these women was that the price was cheaper. I gave her sixty for thirty minutes. She put the money away. The bed looked strong and there was a mirror above the headboard, large enough to watch yourself fucking. A little thrill went through me. I never watched myself fuck before. Now is the time for new experiences.  

I took my coat and shoes off and before I took my top off, she started kissing me. I looked at her in surprise. I had made a solid vow never to kiss a hooker but she broke me. I kissed her back. Looking closer I saw that she was more of a three than a four and that made my dick hard. No time to despair about that though, it was time for action. Looking in the mirror as I entered her doggy style makes me feel invincible. What a beautiful moustache! 

Though I finished quickly, everything ran smoothly. My ego was rampant. I felt like if I wanted to I could take the beautiful one right then with no issues. I was ready to step up and even skip some grades. I was ready and able.  

'How long have you been in London?' I asked the woman.  

'Sorry no english.' 

'Perfect woman!' I cried rapturously. 

There was an en suite bathroom and I went in to wash up. The girl followed me and sat on the toilet. Right next to the toilet was a little bin. She was holding a little bin open that was full of tissue and used condoms. Holding my own used condom I threw it in the direction of the bin but it missed, the condom falling next to it. Not thinking that it was a big deal, that she would pick it up, I turned to the sink opposite and started washing my dick intermittently looking at the woman through the mirror. She had taken a cup that was next to the taps of the bath and used the bath tap to her right to fill it up. Her legs spread on the toilet, she poured the cup of water on her pussy. Stumped, I asked her: 

'No shower?' pointing at the shower attached to the bath next to her. 

She replied with a cute smile and pinch of the face and shook her head no. 

'Ten showers a day no good?' 

'No good.' 

Through the mirror, I saw that she had a strange look on her, a look verging on displeasure and for a moment I wondered what bothered her but then I laughed a little at the idea of a jaded hooker tired of taking so many showers a day. I never actually thought about this, about how many times a day a hooker cleaned herself, and how she cleaned herself, showers or cup.

'But what about the nipple? I swear I sucked on the nipple. You're not cleaning it?' 

'Sorry?' she said, putting the cup back on the bath edge. 'No understand.' 

'Haha, never mind.' 

Closing the taps of the sink, she continued to look at me with a strange look and started to speak in Portuguese.

'Pegue a camisinha e coloque no lixo,' she said in a changed tone, more stern, with her eyes squinted a little. She was still sitting on the toilet and pointed at the condom.

'Huh?' I said, staring at her.

She said the same thing again, this time with a raised eyebrow and pointed to the condom and the bin.

'Oh you want me to put that in there?' I said, mildly bemused. She continued to sit and stare at me. I sensed there was some challenge in her bearing. 'What if I don't?' I added, knowing she wouldn't understand. 'There would be nothing you could do about it. Is this a pride thing? What is it, you don't like used condoms baby, like it might spill over or something?' I mulled it over, decided I should have been more careful and went over to the condom to put it inside the bin. For some reason I felt a little hot while doing this, like there was some humiliation for me. I put my clothes on in silence wondering the whole time if I should have done that or not.

After saying goodbye to my lover, a little airily, I asked the matron if the mixed race girl would be there the week after.  

'I hope so. We get new girls all the time.' 

'Really ? Amazing. I'll be back in a couple days then for this girl.' 

And right on cue, two days later I was back. The matron greeted me warmly recognising that a new, important and consistent source of income had materialized for her. In the line up were the same girls as before. They all recognised me. My last choice blushed with happiness. She thought I would choose her again, that I came back for her - an unfortunate assumption. A little sorry, I pointed at the beautiful mixed race girl. She nodded her head and appeared like a task was foisted upon her that she didn't want to do.  

As we headed to the bedroom I saw my last choice smiling, laughing, saying something in Portuguese that I didn't understand. I knew she was embarrassed and upset a little at the impression my rejection of her gave, that I didn't like her, that she was no good in bed. God forbid ! But maybe if you had just picked up the condom...

Inside the room I wondered how girls of this profession dealt with rejection. It must be that there are some girls who never get picked out of the line up. How can they live through the mortification of knowing that the only way they'll get chosen is if there is no one else around. And even then you might get rejected...How wretched they must be. They will be the first to quit, this world I mean. 

I threw these thoughts out and looked at the splendid form of the girl.  

'How old are you ?' I asked, smiling like an idiot. 

'Twenty.' 

'So fresh. So fresh, so fresh, so fresh. Better than the rest yo !' 

She smiled and asked how long I wanted to stay.  

'Forever.' 

'So one hour?' 

'No, thirty minutes.' 

I gave her the money and she took her clothes off. I noticed that I was correct. Her breasts were extremely soft and I played with them.  

After a couple minutes I realised that I'm still soft. I told her to give me a little oral sex. She put the condom on and proceeded to suck. Though I hate oral sex with a condom, it hadn't been a problem last time with the three out of ten. This time however, foreplay got us nowhere. 

Anguish returned to me. My ego shrank and panic wrapped it in a bodybag.

'Why is it so hard to fuck an attractive woman?' I asked myself as I looked at an increasingly frustrated woman. 

I told her to stop and get into a doggy position, taking some of the lubricant and playing myself with the condom on so I'm ready to go. Closing my eyes so I didn't have to look at the gorgeous woman in front of me, I managed to get a little harder and put it in. She flinched a little and I opened my eyes to look at her perfect breasts bouncing under her as we went on a ride. But as I looked at her, I went soft again. I grumbled something out of incredulousness. She thought that I was criticising her and angrily made a sweeping motion at my soft dick which was frantically trying to get hard again. At this point I started getting angry. 

'Do you know what,' I said as I pulled my condom off. 'I see I'm not wanted here.'  I threw the condom on the floor, empty. She sees that it was empty and stared at me, waving her arm like 'what are you doing?' She spoke very little English.  

Gritting my teeth I pulled my stuff on. I continued gritting my teeth as I got in the car. My teeth remained clenched all the way home. The wife had just come out of the shower.  

'You finish work early?' she said to me in surprise. I looked at her almost deformed body, stripped of all beauty. Still clenching my teeth I grabbed her sagging, sickening breasts and unsurprisingly we had great sex. 

'Hey look at this,' I said to Julia at the end of our lesson. 'Something to speed up the process.' 

Out of my inside coat pocket I pulled out some pills and queer looking condoms. 

'What's that ?' she asked, looking at it apprehensively.  

'You know what these pills are. Stop playing the innocent girl. These here are condoms. The hookers all use thick condoms and I can barely feel anything at times. These Japanese ones are the thinnest. I had to fly them out from Japan.' 

'Oh, can I have one?' 

'Not unless we use them together.' 

'How do you know it's not God's will that you're having these problems? You originally wanted to fuck only beautiful women but you're never able to. Maybe it's God telling you it's sinful,' Julia trilled playfully. 

'It can't be,' I said hotly. 'It's not possible. This is simply a transaction. And in transactions there are no sins. Only when your heart is in it do you sin. My blood doesn't bubble.' 

'Maybe your blood should bubble and then you'll have no more problems.' 

'What the devil, woman, what are you saying ? You want me condemned or what? I just said that once you get too into it, that's where the sin truly lies. You can only sin with your heart. And these things are perfect to keep my heart cold while giving me functionality,' I finished happily. 'Why didn't I think of it before?' 

'Are you going to that gothic church again?' 

'No, I can't go there anymore,' I answered, flushing with embarrassment. 'I'm going to one in central London. Mayfair.' 

'Wow, how much are you paying?' 

'Haha. I'm raising the price of my lessons. Not for you, but for the new ones. I'm levelling up.' 

I was on the public transport this time because it was a hassle to drive to central London. The time was forty five minutes till the appointed time. I reached in my bag for the pills, pop one and swallow it with water. Noticing an older Eastern European lady looking at me, I stared her down. Ten minutes later I felt my body getting hotter and muscles relaxing. The carriage itself was so warm that its warmth was infecting me, relaxing me further. And I look at the woman again. I can't help but notice that I got a huge hard on and it remained. 'Perfect,' I said to myself.  

I got off at Marble Arch. Coming out of the station, I took another look at Google maps and followed it. This was a Tuesday evening and I saw a few people around. Mostly Arab tourists with shopping bags. I  crossed the road, passed the Hard Rock Cafe and got to the building. A grey modern building in one of the most expensive places in the world. I texted her that I had arrived. She told me to call her and I did so wondering why.  

'Hey, baby, you here?' 

'Yeah, baby.' 

'Ok, turn around. It's on the other side of the road. Number fifteen. Flat A.' 

'I see,' I told her, looking around to see if she's standing at any window looking at me. 'Coming now, baby.' 

I was quickly at fifteen and buzzed flat A. She opened the door for me. I then went in to find the interior matched the posterior. The hallway is pristine with a mirror right next to the door. 

'Oh that moustache,' I said aloud, laughing a little. 'Wonderful!' 

I didn't need to take the lift as the flat was on the ground floor, at the end of the mirror. She had already opened the door. With heightened curiosity I went in. I couldn't see much of her pictures so I went by faith alone, thinking that a girl in Mayfair must be top of the line. Especially considering the prices. I wasn't disappointed. She was wearing a black dress with white stripes that kept creeping up her huge ass. She looked like she had her lips and breasts done but she looked amazing.  

'Go in that room. Sophia will be there soon. She is in the toilet.' 

'No. Don't do that to me! Don't tell me it's not you.' 

I was ready to cry in despair. But she walked off laughing. 

'Next time you call me.' 

'I swear I will,' I said, smiling my face off.  

I entered the bedroom. This was the most personal escort's room I had seen. There were pictures, warm colours, and no travelling kits. Without a doubt this girl lived where she works. Interesting…but there was a mirror on the corner at an angle where you could watch yourself fuck. 'There it is,' I said, 'The mark of the beast. You can't be an escort without a fuck mirror. Or is it a spy mirror?' it suddenly occurs to me. 'Yes, of course that's what it is. They want to see what you're up to. No shenanigans!' 

A wry smile came to my lips as I heard a door open. The girl came out. I was slightly disappointed as at a distance she looked like a native American with a big nose and an ugly tan. She was wearing a sexy red dress. But as she approached, I slowly changed my mind. By the time she kissed me flush on the lips I think this is the best decision I ever made. Second best decision... 

This was all before I gave her the money. As soon as I gave her the money, double what I previously had paid for a woman I started rubbing the softest ass I ever felt, noticing my dick was hard and in no danger of shrinking. Pulling my pants down she exclaimed 'what a beautiful dick', and took me in her mouth with no rubber.  

'Which way are we going?' I wondered. I let her play a little, her lips were soft like her ass. Looking at the mirror I am without doubt that this was the most beautiful sight known to man. 

She took off her clothes and I took out the condom. 

'Can we use this?'  

She took the condom and squinted her eyes at the Japanese symbols.  

'Yeah.' 

She tried to bite the cover off, I told her no and showed her how. The only way I had ever seen a hooker open a condom was with her teeth. 

Putting the condom on and then the obligatory lubricant, we got to the business that united us.  

Up until this point I had never fucked a beautiful woman without having to use will power, without having to orgasm semi hard in the most aggravating circumstances. Now I was hitting a woman from the back whose ass is like stormy waters; with me being the wind and her ass being the sea. This particular condom is a world away from the ones I had previously used. It was thin and it squeezed my dick for extra pleasure. She keeps checking the condom to make sure it's there because it felt so natural. I put on some extra lubrication because I wanted to go harder.  

'Baby...please. It's getting....It's getting uncomfortable…' 

My Somaliness, my Somaliness! The idea of my Somaliness making her uncomfortable made my ego bigger than it ever had been and I busted a crazy nut.  I was so happy to be Somali! 

She cleaned me off with baby wipes, first taking the condom off. This whole meeting had lasted perhaps ten minutes, hundred and twenty pounds for ten minutes but I was exceptionally pleased at the smoothness, so I didn't care about the outrageous cost. I felt that I could begin to put this past me. After one more.  

'How long have you been doing this,' I asked her as I'm putting my clothes on. 

She had a delicious fleshy smile and bounced around, clearing the bed of the condom container, and lubricant.  

'Two months. Yeah I have been here for two months.' 

'You're Brazillian right, Sophia? You look like a coolie.' 

'Yea, I'm Brazillian, but I live in Portugal. What's a coolie?' 

'A mixed Indian. Your skin colour and nose is Indian. Your ass is like a perfect black woman's.' 

'Ha. I don't know. In Brazil everyone is mixed.' 

'You have kids?' 

The smoothness of the meeting made me talkative. The previous ones were with either ugly ones whom I didn't want to talk to or with beautiful ones who didn't want to talk to me. 

'Yeah. How did you know, is it because of this,' she asked pointing at a scar on her belly.  

I looked at the scar and it was true. That was the reason I asked but instead I said: 

'No. It's because your body is soft. But baby, is your ass real?' 

'Of course. I got it from my mother. She's tall and has a big ass.' 

'Show me.' 

'Show you what?' 

'Show me your mother. I want to see if she has a big ass or not and if she's tall or not.' 

Laughing, she said that she didn't have her pictures with her and asked where I was from. 

'I'm mixed like you. Pakistani and Somali. This,' referring to my moustache, 'is my Pakistani side and this,' holding my dick, 'my Somali side.' 

'Oh yeah? Haha.' 

'When can I see you again?' 

'Anytime. Hey you like two girls? Did you see my friend?' 

'Ha, you want to share the workload, sly little devil,' I laughed to myself. To her I said that I was a poor man with dreams but no means. 

On the way home I was the happiest I had been in a long time and felt that I had reached the place where man was born to be: able to fuck beautiful women. But I told myself not to run away without my head. These women were not fucking for free and moreover I couldn't get caught up and put my heart in it. That meeting was close to pure heat. Still, I needed a few more under my belt to make sure the spell that was cast upon me was dispelled.  

At the traffic light someone was staring at my car. To be more precise, he was staring at my sign which I had forgotten to take down. He had his phone in his hand. 

He quickly ran up and asked me how much for a lesson. 

'Thirty five pounds an hour,' I shouted to him. 

The man started with surprise. 

'I didn't think it would be that much.' 

'I got expenses, brother,' I replied, explaining myself joyfully. 'Expenses!' 

I needed to solidify my position. After the breakthrough using divine aids, I wanted to make sure it wasn't just a miracle and booked with a girl whose photo was heavily altered to obscure and intrigue. I did so in bright daylight and again I used public transport because this one was near Liverpool Street. This was my lunch break and I had money in my pocket. Someone had just booked 20 lessons in advance and I decided to use some of it for this girl.  

Walking towards the place where she worked I saw that it was located in a narrow alley near a pub. This avenue was a mixture of old and new; with modern doors to the flat and offices where people live and work, while the facade had brown crumbling bricks. The pub itself looked cozy, with multiple people in front of it, drinking. Seeing them, I thought of the likelihood of people knowing there is a complex of prostitutes nearby. Frightened and nervous that people would see me go in, I passed the complex where the girl lived and told her that I had arrived. I kept walking until I got to the end of the narrow alley and it opened up to a more modern plaza. There were some benches where I ended up sitting, on one of them. I knew that I looked distinctly awkward and out of place and not to mention getting more irritated by the second as the girl hadn't responded to my message. I sent her another one which was simply a question mark. Five minutes passed and I got up ready to leave, checking the website to see if there's anyone else in the vicinity, not wanting to let the pill go to waste. I then received a message with the house number and a code to put in. Slightly surprised at the idea of giving a stranger a code to the building where you live or work, I quickly walked to the building, avoiding all eye contact, pleased that I didn't have to look for a new girl. I put the code in and see it open. I looked for flat two and knocked on the door. 

I entered and went into the living room, sat on the bed and turned around. I felt like a king. Then I examined the girl.  

She didn't look anything like the pictures. She was wearing blue booty shorts and a white sleeveless vest. It was warm in the flat so I could see why. She herself was a mixed race Latin girl with a mass of black curly hair and was of slim build. She had a strange whiteness and gave the appearance that she would tan beautifully if she bathed in the sun. The most striking thing about her was her freshness. She looked young and if not still, barely out of her teenage years. Everything about her seemed budding, on the cusp of flowering. 

'Who are you ? I'm looking for Lorena.' 

'That's me. I can't speak English very well though. I hope you can understand me,' she said as she closes the door behind her. 

I'm bewitched by her soft but sharp voice and looked around to see stuffed animals on the bed with pink coverings. Next to the bed was a dresser on top of which were lubricants. 

'Should I ask for ID?' I asked myself. 'No. She's too cute. I'm sure she's over age anyway. She must be. 

Still, those stuffed animals…'  

I asked her if they were hers. She said no. 

'I've been in London for two months, doing this job for two weeks. Nothing here is mine. Except the suitcase.'  She laughed a girlish giggle.  

'Where are you from?' 

'Dominican republic.' 

'You come here to learn English?' 

'How did you know?' 

'Wild guess.' 

'Oh. I want to use the English to help my family there.' 

'I want to help your family too.' 

'What..how?' 

'How much for thirty minutes?' 

'One hundred.' 

I handed her the money which she took, counted, adding up aloud in Spanish and left the room. While she was gone I took my bag, coat and top off. I looked around and saw the mirror was facing away from the bed. I smiled a little at her freshness. A rookie.  

She returned soon enough and got into the groove. My back was to the door now and she next to the bed. Lorena looked me straight in the eyes and pulled her shorts down, swinging left to right. She didn't kiss me like the other one but it didn't matter. She didn't have things to play with like the other one either but she was the closest to perfection a slim girl could be. Her body was full even in her slimness. I was ready to go. 

Naked she laid back. Her waist was small, the magic pill working, I put it inside. Her oddly white face showed the most delightful sexual flush.  After a little while we changed positions and fucked doggy. She had an arch that showed she was new to the game. Unlike the others, she didn't feel for the condom making sure it was in. She didn't have a big ass but her proportions were perfect for her body type. Plus she had a long ass crack, the most important thing. 

We fucked shallow for a while, not putting the whole thing inside. Her sex noises were as cute as her body. I noticed a little cream coming out of her pussy. 

Then I put the whole dick inside. She let out a shriek but I held firm so that she didn't move. I looked down as that was my favourite view. I saw she creamed a lot more now and there was a smell that waylaid me. This pussy smell that I adored. I loved the fact that she creamed so much and considered that a stripe in my favour. The combination of sight and smell overwhelmed me and I came quickly. I saw that some of the cream touched a spot that was uncovered by the condom. I wiped it off with my index and middle finger, rub it together and put it to my nose to took a deep whiff. 

'I love the way you smell, baby. But why do you cream so much?' 

She turned around to face me and said the cream was from some medication to 'flush out her system.'

'Medication,' I said to myself, scratching my cheek wonderingly.

'You sure it's not my dick?'

'That too,' she said laughingly.

I could feel my heart swelling with a dangerous type of warmth but I dismissed the warning signs. I asked her for how long she would be there. She replied until summer and lamented the weather taking away the colour of a tropical girl like herself. 

'You look good like this. Can I see you again?' 

'Yes, every day.'

The rest of the day, at work and at home, I couldn't stop thinking about how cute she was and what a gem I had found. Not many men would fuck a girl like that in their lives, but I had. Thank God I had. 

'Why are you so happy these days?' the wife asked me, noticing me quiet but smiling to myself in our bedroom. 

'Can a man not fulfill his destiny and find happiness because of it?' 

'What do you mean by that?' she asked sharply, pulling herself up, staring at me. 

'I had a candy bar, baby. Haha, I'm happy because I was able to eat an excellent candy bar from start to finish with no problems.' 

She looked at me like one who is being mocked and is about to lash out. But she stayed calm. 

'What kind of candy bar was it?' she asked menacingly. 'Why would a candy bar give you problems? And why would it amount to fulfilling your destiny?' she said with rising intonation with every new question. 

'Chocolate, with peanut butter. You know, 

Reeces? American brand.' 

'Expensive was it?' 

'Foreign brands don't come cheap.' 

'Only you could make eating candy bars so dramatic. Bring me one next time. Hold on, what's that on your jaw? You have something there.' 

I went to the mirror and saw a large black spot.  

'I don't know,' I told her. 'Maybe it's a beauty mark no one noticed before.' 

Over the next few days the beauty mark grew and spread all over my face. It became raw and crusty. Some were livid red but the biggest on my jawline was jet black. This however wasn't at the forefront of my mind. All I could think about was seeing this girl again. Still, I went to the local pharmacy to get it checked out. 

'Allah, baba,' the tall daughter of the short Cypriot pharmacist yelped as she saw the marks up close. 'That's fungus isn't it?' she exclaimed in revulsion. 

'Fungus? On my face? But how?' 

Then I remembered the thick cream, the smell and figured out what happened. Instead of being furious, I smiled fondly. This is love's kiss that always leaves ravages...but then I came to my senses. 

'What kind of sentimentality is that? I've been left disfigured and I think it's a good thing? But that can only mean…'' 

It is at this point that I realised that I had fallen not just in love but from grace and completely beyond redemption. But instead of repentance, I thought only of showing this disfigurement to her as a token of my love and suffering for her. 

The pharmacist gave me some anti fungal cream and delicately didn't ask any personal questions. 

Leaving, I went to the car and looked in one of the compartments. I found a couple cash notes, not enough to buy love. Musing, I decided to go to the bank and withdraw the remaining money. Looking at the balance I winced slightly. This was making more than just a slight dent. 'No matter,' I said to myself. 'I'll raise the price of the lessons again.' 

I texted the girl to tell her that I would be there in two hours. She said okay. I went home to put some of the cream on and get changed; and put a little perfume on, Tom Ford. The mirror showed me again the marks of sin and dissipation. After a struggle I made a resolution. This would be the last time I see her. It was her that was the problem not the lifestyle. Yes, this will be the last time. 

When I got to her house, I saw another girl who opened the door. My heart was racing as I asked where Lorena was. She said that she was Lorena.  

'What? Haha. I just seen Lorena a couple of days ago and she marked me,' I said pointing at my face.  

'I don't know what happened to your face but I'm Lorena.' 

First I was incredulous and then crestfallen. 

'So she's lost to me forever,' I lamented to myself. 

Unconsciously, I scratched my beauty marks, becoming motionless like I was in suspension. Then the feeling hit me, like a firestorm engulfing me. I'm crushed, so crushed I left without even really looking at the girl who might have been better looking than the other one. This was heartbreak and it almost drew tears from the pain and loss. 

'How could you fall in love with a prostitute. After thirty minutes!' 

'Fifteen minutes. Her pussy smelled too good.' 

'Even worse.' 

'Baby she looked like you.' 

'Why do you keep calling me baby?' 

'I'm a product of my environment.' 

Julia turned away and mumbled the words I just said. She thought it was profound. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. 

'Yes, your environment is misogyny.' 

I laughed even louder now. 

'Hey what's going with that Pakistani boyfriend you have.' 

Julia became animated. 

'Oh my God. I went to his house last night and he has...ugh, my God. He lied to me.' 

'Only a misandrist would say that,' I said seriously, understanding her, but couldn't hold the act and laughed again. 'I told you, go for the Somalis. We don't have that problem.' 

'And he's so beautiful too. Arghh. You and me, we are just so unlucky. Arghh!' 

'You and me, we should try something new.' 

'No more Pakistanis!' 

'No more Dominicans!' 

This declaration was followed by a series of meetings, closer to sinless transactions than the one before.  

It would have started with Sophia. I had a hundred for the week and phoned her, because I remembered the ass and said why not.  

'Baby, my price went up. It's a hundred and fifty now.' 

'What?' I exclaimed, startled, feeling my face drop in perplexity. 

'Yeah, why ? I'm a big woman, I need a big price.' 

'You must be crazy, honey. No woman is worth that kind of money,' I replied with quiet dignity, hanging up before she had a chance to reply. 

I couldn't shake the feeling that she raised the price just for me and the heat of affront and rejection came over me.  

'But the moustache...how?' Then fury took the reins. 

'What did she think I am? And who does she think she is? There's a thousand other girls like her in London.' 

To prove it, I scrolled down the website and found a non Latin girl. A Chinese one, this time. I needed someone meek and slightly less attractive to wash out the emotions these Latin girls gave me. Another idea entered my mind. I decided that from now on I would screw a different ethnicity every week. So pleased with the idea, I let out a joyful 'yes, that's it' waving my finger in the air. 'That's it!' 

After setting up the meeting, I travelled to Stratford where the girl lived. The girl's voice was a curious one. It almost seemed masculine but I decided to take a shot anyway. I knew many of them had secretaries and if she looked bad I could always leave.  

Knocking on the door, a black man suddenly stands before me. He was bald and in his late thirties or forties. Smiling a smile of surprise I stared at him, wondering what this meant.  He beckoned me inside. I realised that he was the bouncer so I shook myself out of stupefaction and went inside. He told me to go to a room opposite the front door. I told him very well and followed his instructions. The room was dark and set to mood. The covers on the bed, which was high, were red and black. The headboard of the bed was simply a mirror. The mirror was slightly cloudy with a large dragon sticker on the left hand side. On the right side of the door was a dresser where an assortment of wines and spirits rested. There was house music playing and on the screen of the laptop was lesbian porn streaming. 

I looked around the room breathless. The saturation of sexual stimuli was almost overwhelming and it was heightened even further by the girl that entered.  

She was wearing black lingerie with suspenders and lace on the edges of both the top and bottom pieces. She had long black hair, heavy make-up and a body that was small, muscular but not to the point of grossness. It was feminine and it almost gave the appearance of the type of muscle that age gives rather than the gym. Either way it was still firm and shaped unlike any Asian body I had seen.  

'Hey baby, how long you want to stay?' 

'I don't know. How much for thirty minutes.' 

'Sixty.' 

'Really?' 

I laughed at paying one fifty for a woman when you can get a woman like this for sixty. Ridiculous ! 

'Yes, let me get thirty minutes.' 

After I had given the money she told me to take a shower.  

'You want me to take a shower?' 

'Yeah, just a quick one. I like clean men.' 

'Ok no problem.' 

I started taking my stuff off and thought about leaving them in the bedroom but thought better of it, so I took my stuff with me to the bathroom where a stack of towels and cleaning products awaited me. 'She's serious,' I mumbled to myself. 'Professional.' 

After fiddling with the shower and not being able to get the hot water to run, I splashed some cold water on myself, and my private areas and dried myself off. I could still see the fungus on my face which had spread but fading due to the steroid cream the pharmacist gave me. The reddish tint gives it the appearance of a bad breakout. 

I went back to the room and saw she had undressed already and was looking at herself close up in the mirror. She had a really nice ass for an Asian. 

She told me to hang my stuff up on the rack behind the door, which I duly did. 

I beckoned her over and she came and started kissing me. Her lips were also unusually full for an Asian.  The house music was thumping in my ear and as I opened my eyes I saw first the screen of porn before I looked at Suzy. She got on her knees and pressed her lips on my cock but didn't suck it. She used the back of her hand to bring my dick up, which was still strangely soft, and sniffed it, lifting it up and down like she was measuring its weight. She then brings her lips back to the cock but doesn't kiss or suck. It's like she wants to feel the texture of it on her lips. She did this several times, confusing me as I looked down at the scene, until she finally put it in her mouth and started sucking. I don't get hard to my dismay. Suddenly she smacks my ass, like that would make me hard. I told her that I wanted to lie down on the bed, which I do, glancing at the lesbian porn.  'There's too much sexual stimuli in this room,' I said to myself, swooning a little at the amount of sensual, smoky perfume around me. 

Laying down she sucked more but I still didn't get hard. Something worse happened. I felt it coming but I thought I could use it as a boost, telling her to stop just before and use the hardness to fuck. But strangely, I didn't get hard yet I felt I was about to orgasm. I told myself just a little more. The girl reached up and traced my moustache with my dick in her mouth. I lost myself and came with a soft dick. I shot in her mouth and when I did she pulled away. 

'You owe me ten pounds,' Suzy told me, with a mouth full of extra charge.  

I didn't know how it happened, the impossible, orgasming with a soft dick, but the orgasm was stunning. It was one of the strongest I ever had and I curled up at its intensity.  

She came back from the bathroom and I asked her if I could use her bathroom. Of course the answer is yes. Cleansing myself, the intensity of the orgasm abating, I was upset at how the meeting went from being cheap to becoming expensive. Sixty pounds for a 5 minute blowjob. 'And she said I owed her,' I said to myself, smiling wryly. Going back into the room I saw her in front of the screen, naked, watching the porno. 'This isn't the last time she has heard of me,' I vowed to myself. 

'Are you a lesbian?' I asked her. 

'Sometimes,' she says, dancing to the music.  

'Are you a pornstar too?' 

'No, I just do solo stuff. Sometimes.' 

This room put some kind of block on my sexual blood flow. Next time I would have to take two pills to counteract it. But before I do so, I have to recalibrate myself.  

For the next coming weeks I screwed only cheap girls making sure they were below average, making specific requests. Extra make up and perfumed. One of them was a Polish girl, slim with huge breasts. Her face was average at best. 

As we were fucking I felt the condom slipping but the girl didn't. She reached over to pour baby oil on the pussy for extra lubrication. In truth I was getting desensitised by the condoms and could barely feel a thing these days. The condom then completely slipped. The warmth of flesh made me gasp, and turned my body immobile for a moment lest I lose the feeling newly acquired.  

It was obvious that the girl was getting more into it; her eyes shut tighter, her lips parted, spread her legs wider, pulled me closer, and the sex noises became more stirring; but she didn't realise why and no doubt thought it was the baby oil that she had just poured on it. The raw sex felt so good that I tried to prolong it by going slower and deeper, performing longer strokes, but she tried to pull me closer, her full face flushed, for short strokes because she wanted to feel my dick in her pussy for as long as she could. This sabotage was so hot that I came quicker than planned.

Pulling out she noticed that the condom came off. She gasped. 

'Oh my God. Look at this. How?' I said in mock despair. 

She didn't say anything and just stared at me. 

'What are you looking at me like that for? What do you think, I did this on purpose? It's your fault for putting too much oil on it.' 

'Who is going to pay for the doctor?' she finally asked me. 

Oh it was a money matter. Of course. I threw her ten pounds extra which she snatched from the bed. 

This meeting made me lose my head. I started denying any importance of condoms relative to my pleasure and subsequently kept hoping and fucking to the point the condom slipped or broke, refusing to use any other condom other my own condoms because they slipped easier when you put more lubrication than necessary. 

Drunk off self destructive madness using logic like 'hookers are the cleanest to fuck raw because they never fuck raw,' I called on a Brazilian girl. Her room was a queer room, a long white room with a bath tub opposite the bed and a sink opposite the door. The bath tub was filled with clothes, the tub of clothes immediately arresting my eye.  

'Did you just come here or are you leaving?' I asked the young black haired girl who tanned badly and would age prematurely for it. But she still looked good for a thirty minute thing.  

'Oh,' she said, laughing a little as she turned towards the tub after taking the money. 'I'm leave soon,' she said, indicating the empty suitcase on the far end of the room. The room had a roof that had a downward slant.  

Excusing herself as she went to put the money away in another room I approached the tub of clothes. In it were several dresses, shirts, underwear and the curtain that once belonged to the tub, torn down most likely as she had thrown the clothes into the tub. But why the tub? I looked around again and saw no shower. Where would she wash herself? I picked up one of the items in the tub, a dark blue night club outfit. As I examined it for a second the girl entered again, smiling as she saw me holding her dress. 

'Hey baby you want to wear this dress for me ?' I asked the approaching girl. 'We can play a little game?' 

'Me wear this?' she said seriously and grabbed the dress from me. 

'No, no,' I answered laughingly. 'But can I wear this though?' I fished out the Japanese condom.  

'What's that?' She threw the dress back in the tub and took the condom. I stifled a giggle. A bathtub full of clothes. Ludicrous! 

'It's a condom baby,' I answered evenly, motioning the way one would put a condom on.  

'Oh. Why?' 

'I like the way it feels.' 

'But I have -'

'I only use this one.' 

After a momentary pause she agreed. But once she saw the actual condom and how thin it was she asked if we could use hers pointing to her stack of condoms in a clear plastic bag on top of her dresser. I said no and was ready for the exit. She agreed again to using the condom. And so we used the condom and as we were fucking she again asked, with more panic in her voice, to change the condom.  

'No no baby,' I said while continuing the backstroke. 'This condom is good and expensive. It's Japanese, it will never break. What are you worried about? Haha! Nothing ever happened to this condom before.'  

She smiled tremulously and turned around again. Her muscular ass belied the jiggle it was capable of and I enjoyed the waves I was creating. I put some more lubricant on the condom and put it back in as the girl hissed from the pressure of my Somaliness.  She then reached for her phone and started texting. Thinking that I must not be doing this properly if she can think of texting other clients I deepened the stroke and watched her clench her jaw but not stop the texting. I increased the pace and watched the muscular ass with the strangely strong jiggle compress and loosen more. She put the phone away. Satisfied that my presence was being felt I was getting into it more but the condom was still on. We had just started and it would take time for the condom to come off. But I was feeling the way she looked, her tanned skin and small waist and her jiggle making me close to orgasm despite the condom when someone knocked on the door. The girl quickly jumped off the bed and said that her 'food' had arrived. Incredulous, I stared at the window, holding my dick, stroking my dick to continue being hard while she collected her food.

'So that's what she was doing on the phone? Ordering food,' I asked myself in disbelief.

Ignorant about a hooker's eating habits I waited until I heard the patter of a different gait than the girl's. I turned around with my dick still in my hand to see a man behind me, walking towards me. He was a man with big steroid injected muscles and an immaculate beard tracing a most masculine jawline. He was wearing shorts and a halter top and had a gym shaker in his hand.

I froze and watched his other hand reach for the dresser with condoms on it.  

'This is safe. Your condom,' he said with a thick accent and a deep voice, pointing to my dick, ' is no good. This,' he said with emphasis holding the condom, and squeezing it, I noted, 'is safe.' 

I was kneeling agape at the man's sharp beard. 

'Are you gay?' I for some reason asked him, holding my softening dick. 

'Gay?' he repeated, surprised and then answered in an unoffended, matter of fact voice: 'No.' 

I wanted to burst out laughing but turned back to the girl who stood there naked abashed, holding her hands in front of her. 

'No problem,' I said. ' Go, go.' 

Just as he came in, he left, without embarrassment, like he came back to turn off a forgotten light, leaving a John with a soft dick and a naked hooker behind.  

Once he left I turned to the hooker. 

'Why did you call him? If you wanted me to change condoms you should have just asked me.' 

'I did ask,' she said aggressively, in a completely different manner to how she was speaking before. 

'Are you scared of me?' 

She climbed back on the bed. 

'Yes, I'm scared. Me, i'm a small girl, and you, a big man. What can I do? I ask you, but no want.' 

I let out a little laugh, took off my condom, and listened as she started saying something strongly in Portuguese, cursing probably, and took me in her mouth. Once hard again she wanted to put the condom, her condom, back on. But I said no and told her I was close to coming. She took the hint and started sucking hard, and jerking hard making me orgasm on her fake tits. This was a quick orgasm because I wasn't even truly thinking of her. I was thinking of the types of lives people lead, a life that made this heterosexual man so unembarrassed to come into a room with a naked man holding his dick - me. And he said that he wasn't gay. But looking at him, at such a man, I found that hard to believe. No straight man was ever so aesthetic. What would have happened if he wanted to have his way with me, if I was more attractive, if I had a full beard? I began to put my clothes on, smiling at being in this situation, while I sensed the girl's anger, anger at being in that situation herself. Both of us had the same idea. 

'This is a situation a Muslim man like me shouldn't be in,' I said to myself. I was ready to call quits this life for this was becoming a different level of humiliation and I was beginning to realise how exposed I really was when I was with these women…. but before I did so I went to see Suzy again because like the other one, the first one, I didn't want to leave her with the image of me as a bad fuck when I was a wonderful lover and moreover she would not have a problem with my condoms... 

Knocking on Suzy's door once again, I heard people talking. Male and female. 

'Suzy, the client is here. There are no towels ready, I can't see the cleaning products and you? Are you ready?' 

'Why you bothering me for, fuck sake. Why you, you always... argh. Fuck sake !' 

Her voice sounded uglier than the last time. No matter. The two pills that I took were having a raging effect on me and it spelled sure triumph. Waiting for a few more minutes, hearing something banging, the door finally opened. 

This time it was Suzy who opened. She was wearing a red lingerie outfit this time. Ushering me in she asked for how long.  

'Cum in mouth is ten extra, I tell you !' I laughed out loud. 

'How much for one hour?' 

'One hundred.' 

I spread the cash on the bed.  'You want me to take a shower?' She shrugged her shoulders. 

'Up to you,' bowing to me in the Chinese manner with the cash in between her hands. 

When she came back, she chugged down half a glass of wine, offering me some.  

'No, it's against my religion,' I said to her firmly, almost offended. 'What do I look like to you?' 

As I put my things on the rack, thinking that she might be a jaded hooker who had the shrewdness to try and make the client drink away the time rather than fuck away the time, which was what I came here for, she smacked my ass again. 

'I love your bum.' 

'From Somalia with love,' I said to her, smiling at her compliment. 

'Somalia? You don't look Somali. I have a lot of a Somali friends.' 

'I bet you do.' 

'My last boyfriend was black. Even me, myself, I'm mixed. But only here. My pussy is black,' she said, showing her black side, laughing hysterically at her joke. 

'Welp, you're not lying. It is black. My god how black it is!'  

I had to stare at it, because I didn't notice it last time. How did it get like that? 

'How old are you?' 

'Thirty six.' 

'What, but your profile said twenty two. You even look twenty two apart from your pussy. Hehe.' 

I jumped on her as she laid on the bed. The pills worked its miracles and I put black to black. Even with the condom I felt her pussy. I had to gasp as the pussy was different to any I've experienced. 

'Your black pussy has superpowers, my God,' I whispered to her.  

Putting both my hands on the bed I stroked in a way where I could see myself going in and out. I could see the whiteness of her slim body and the exquisiteness of her dark nipples which were almost too big for her body. The view alone almost made me orgasm.  

We changed positions just in case because I wanted to make this last and memorise her body in different angles. We fucked doggy and I put some extra lubrication on. I could see the condom slipping and got more excited the more it slipped. Then I felt that it came off and joyfully continued. Her pussy stunned me with its black power. But I looked at its darkness, like Byron looked at his, remembering that she was such a nice girl, a sweet girl, who pulled out all the stops, I imagined for me alone, even if it was for all her clients.  

Just after I took my dick out, I saw shimmering crystals of sweat on her back and lap up the streak between her vertebrae with my tongue. 

'Why? Why did you stop?' she asked, her hoarse voice distorted by the sexual stimulation I gave her.  

'The condom came off baby,' I answered calmly, while pulling the useless one out her pussy. 

'Oh but I don't like that !' 

'I didn't do it on purpose,' I said angrily. 'And besides I didn't come in you, did I?' 

I went to fish for another condom. 

'I know you didn't,' she cooed with sweet certainty. 

Though I was irritated at my sentimentality stopping my pleasure I couldn't help but feel that this was becoming less and less like a transaction. Her sweetness had penetrated my heart to such an extent that money couldn't freeze it over.  

When I came home, the wife was sitting on the bed smiling and looked up with a serene look in her eyes. 

With a shy joyfulness she said: 

'I'm pregnant.' 

I made a noise of disgust and cried: 

'When will this end!' 

'What do you mean?' she said suddenly, her shyness and joy completely gone. 'Where did you come from now anyway.'  She rushed towards me. 'What perfume is that?' she demanded to know as she put her arms around me. 

I was unhinged at this new pregnancy and couldn't control myself. 

'Release me. I don't answer to you !'

'So you..' she stuttered in shock. 

'This marriage is a sham. You and I both know that.' 

'No !' 

'Quiet. Don't wake the children.' 

'Let them find out what kind of father they have!' 

'What kind of father? What kind of mother has a child every five years, on the dot ? Are you planning this? Did you plan this, to trap me ? Answer me !' 

She staggered back like the words were blows.  

'I don't need an answer. I know the truth. If I wasn't a religious man!' 

'Haha,' laughed Julia as I told her what happened the day before.

'I tell you Julia, that woman will be the end of me. If I wasn't a religious man!' 

'Then what?' 

'I would demand redress,' I whispered. 

'Is she not divorcing you?' 

'She wouldn't dare.' 

'Why?' 

'She would be tainted, her family would be tainted and our children too, if the reason came out. Her honour and pride wouldn't allow it.' 

'Why don't you divorce her?' 

'Impossible. For the same reason. If the children were just a little older ! With this new one she trapped me for life.' 

'You shouldn't have told her about the things.' 

'Yes,' I agreed, letting my hands fall in a show of despair. 'I lost control. With her and these girls. One is sin, the other ugliness.' 

'What happened to your candy bars?' 

'There's no way to eat them without putting your heart into it.' 

'What would you prefer, sinful beauty or ugly piety ? You can't have both.' 

'Wallahi, you're right. If I have to choose, I choose…'' 

I frown at this last part and think that maybe I should take it out? Does anyone really read sex stories to the end?