First of all English is not my mother tongue. I rate my English as fairly good, but it's not up to this kind of subjects. So, I may say funny things and, above all, write things meaning something different.
To write things to be ashamed of, curling toes.
Like when I went whoring on Good Friday. She was a petite East-European 25ish, fragile appearance, ill colour. A semblance of perfect victim.
She spoke French slowly, a little faltering. She dressed black imitation leather lingerie. I guess she was high - they must take something to makes them think that they are not there, that it's not them. I was drunk.
Price was low. I paid 50 € for a blow-job and to fuck her doggy style.
While she was giving head, I was sitting on the bed smoking. She had to rush to hand me some ashtray, she was afraid I could set the bed on fire.
Then she turned of the 4 paws, she moaned preparing for penetration. I could not find a comfortable position and I turned her on her back, in the missionary position.
She was ashamed to look at me or disgusted. Or maybe it was my breath. She kept on moaning, hoping in a quicker ejaculation. Her skin was covered with face powder, and released some sweet scent, like all whores. The neck tendon, a reflection on the skin and the suffering expression on her pale face, made me feel like I wanted to slobber on her. I can't recall if I called her names, Probably not.
I enjoyed seeing my cock penetrating in the middle of her thighs, I looked good in the mirror while I was riding her. But I couldn't find myself disgusting and couldn't get really excited.
After it was done, she tried to socialize, asked me if I enjoyed it, if I was OK and if I used to work out. She tried to wipe the sperm of my dick with a Kleenex, but thinking that it would have made her feel comfortable I turned my back and wore my pants.
I came out in the street with a smile. A bottle of Pouilly Fuissé had designed that grin on my face a couple of hours before. I had been experiencing a feeling of self-contentment since I finished watching Apocalypse Now (redux), kneeling in front of the television, with my arms wide open, ready for the Eucharist.
I guess it says a lot about myself and sex. Whores are handy sometimes, I enjoy seeing they fake they enjoy it, knowing they don't like me.
As far as I am concerned, sex is only a way of abusing people, of abusing myself.
This has only increased while growing older, while loosing sexual power. Not that violence really turns me on. Quite the opposite, lately I find myself fantasizing about tall androgynous women, overpowering me (though I guess it's not the exact masochistic fantasy)... and that's why I wrote this message to you (is that you in the picture?).
I realise that it may sound scary. Sorry, it was not my intention.