Takes All KindsMature

Open minded, paid-sex junkie, rambles about the world in search of more.

She was the tiniest whore I ever fucked. Almost a midget. God knows how old she was. Out there you never know with all that make-up and in that lighting. And even when you're indoors humping them you can't really be sure. I've been with 60-year-olds who passed for 30 when you saw them there on the street, and who worked as hard as 30-year-olds in bed. Conscientious workers, but of course you have to be at that age if you want to stay in business. So you never know and, of course, I have no doubt made some bad calls at the other end of the scale. Not intentionally – I am not one of those. I am just assuming that through the years they haven't all, technically speaking, qualified as bona fide adults.

No, I don't think that's good. I'm not excusing myself. I've got kids of my own. But neither do I think that all the responsibility should be on my shoulders. Since it's so easy to make a mistake about someone's age. Especially when you're in a rush. I believe that there should be some sort of control, some sort of authority who takes care of that. In Europe they have licences, and checkups and so on and they are generally more organized over there.

Anyhow, this one was no damn teenager. More like in her thirties or forties. She was just so, so tiny. When she took off her heels I almost backed out. I'm not into the kinky shit. Maybe she really was a midget. What is the difference between dwarfs and midgets? I know dwarfs are supposed to have big heads, but what else? I certainly don't think she was a dwarf. Anyway, I'm not griping
— she did her job all right. Kept up her end of the bargain.

She was from Eastern Europe. Now days you see a lot of them from places over there behind the old iron curtain. They're primitive peoples. And they're materialistic as all get out — that's what communism did for them. But at her height  . . .   I tell you, she picked the wrong profession. Whores shouldn't be that tiny. I don't care if they're taller than me — within limits of course. And the tall ones seem to do well. I once fucked a 6 foot 4er. Yeah, it was a bit out of the ordinary, but what the hell. I had to check first if she wasn’t a man, asked to feel her crouch before I made the deal. She's was cool with that. A professional.

She might have been a basketball player. They have professional woman's basketball, you know. Got their own league. Maybe she did play basketball, I mean, you never know and I didn't ask. I'm not there for the conversation. Anyhow, for a guy in basketball, six foot four is short. It's a regular freak show – basketball. If it wasn't for basketball all those guys would just be freaks in the circus. Those Chinese guys  . . .  you know like, Yau Mau or Sun Ming Wing or whatever their names are.

I've never had a Chinese – not that I know of. I've had Vietnamese, and Japs and Thais. Lots of the latter. I was in Pattaya for two weeks once. A week would have been plenty enough! You got to have stamina for a stint like that. One should be in a lot better shape than yours truly. But I don't think I've missed out on anything not having had Chinese. I don't think it would be that much different. The world's a lot more homogeneous than most people realize. Like they say in South East Asia, Same-same.

The Chinese speak lousy English, but that's not what matters. As I've already said, you're not there for the chit-chat. One of the worst things that can happen is doing business with one who can't keep her flapper shut. That Las Vegas hooker who just wanted to talk politics — kept jabbering away — said I should vote for McCain cause he'd been tortured. Would never stop. I mean, like, who was being tortured? Maybe that qualifies me for some political office?

But you do get a lot of that in Cuba. Talkers. Those girls are opinionated, even if you can't understand fuck-all of what they're saying, they will just babble on anyway. And I'll tell you right now if they do speak English you can reckon with paying double – at least double, and then you still got to listen to their shit only now you can almost understand what they're saying. They're opinionated and argumentative, those Cuban girls. What do I know, maybe they do have a lot to complain about. Still you won't often hear a bad word about Fidel. They blame the system instead – like it wasn't he who created the system? Give me a break. They're lovely girls though. Smart. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's different in Cuba. You can have a college professor for peanuts. I've never had a college professor, but I did have a doctor. She made like 60 dollars a month in her day job. After how many years of studying? Jesus, is that not cockeyed? Not that she was especially talented as a whore, I'm afraid.

Got to watch your step in Havana, though. It can get complicated or even rough. Better to mosey on out to the countryside. A Canadian guy, who was like in his seventies— I mean for real, let me on to his 'trick'. You rent a bike and cruise the countryside, he said. Knock on doors here and there until you see what you're looking for and then make a deal with the parents. So? What was the trick, I ask? Oh, he says, in order to make sure you are getting fresh meat you want to check out their shoes. If they're wearing fancy expensive shoes then they have already been on the circuit. You see the first thing a Cuban girl asks for is a pair of stylish shoes.

Wow! Sensational. What a trick. Idiot. Stupid Canadians. You wonder about some of these guys. 'Fresh meat'? I mean in the long run, what does that matter? What do they want? Doesn't experience, knowledge of the art, professionalism, don't those qualities mean anything?

You see them sitting around in the Cafe Ciudad in Camaguey with their chicas who they have gotten all spiffed up with Reeboks and Ambercrombie Finch shit. Bunch of old farts from Canada. Or maybe they're not all from Canada like they make out to be. I'm not from Canada. How hard is it to change planes in Cancun or Bermuda? And there they are, like, courting these teenagers. Yeah, I mean courting —going steady, playing high school games. They're playing he-said-that-she-said-that-he-said and all that kind of shit. And the chicas are putting on faces and frowning and begging for trinkets. I think it's sick. I say get in there and do your business and then get out again.

But they are pretty girls. Cuban girls. Nice blend. Best of both worlds. You see, I am not indifferent to that—  I am not indifferent to the aesthetics.

It's not just a piece of ass you're getting. It's a package deal. I once fucked a girl with no arms. Not exactly no arms, but shrunken, shrimpy arms, just a couple of finger-like stumps sticking out shortly below her shoulders. I don't know if it was that thalidomide thing, cause she wasn't that old - maybe something else. But what I wanted to say was, she had a really beautiful face. And it does have significance. That influenced me. And the arms - or lack of arms - were not a problem in that case. And she knew how to work with what she had damn nicely. And you got to give her credit, despite all her disadvantages she was pulling in some pretty good dough.

Even fatties are OK, though you rarely see them on the street-end of the trade cause they won't get picked up. Even though there is a lot of enjoyment to be had there, guys are prejudiced, and really, they have no idea what they're missing out on. You find the fatties on the other end of those cards you see in telephone booths. Ha, now I'm giving away my age. Telephone booths? Those were the days. First thing in town find a telephone booth? Now all we need is the internet. It's a technological world.

But as I was saying, fatties are OK— believe me, they can rock and roll, even if you wouldn't want to make them a steady diet. If there is a problem with fatties, it is that they tend to feel sorry for themselves, and mistreated, like someone else was stuffing the doritos and pepsies down their throats, you know, and that sort of attitude tends to show through even in the briefest of encounters — puts a downer on the entire event. But enough about that. I just wanna say there's room for all kinds. If the fatties don't feel sorry about themselves, I certainly am not going to.

Mix em up. Mix em up. Fat, bony, tall or short, they're all OK by me. Color, age, come one - come all. You get the picture. I'm an open-minded guy. I'm unprejudiced. Everyone has got something to bring to the table. Bring it on and remember nobody's perfect.

The End

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