Girly asked me this, you know, we were hanging out and she was trying to make conversation (which isn't so easy, you realise -- gotta say something, but what ?!) and "get to know each other better" and such delightful avatars of youth.
To her, evidently, the question carried some kind of meaning, and with that the possibility of being answered. It's a commonplace of pre-pantsutiani US discourse, you realise. It's a thing, there, like "are you racist" or "rape" etcetera.
The discussion went rapidly nowhere, over my dissolution of her unexamined categories. I paid girls to fuck on camera, does that count ? If you take a girl for a fuck to a bed you own in a room you own in a building you own in a town you own is this paying for sex ? I mean, it costs more than if you lived in the forrest and did it in the bushes, rite ? What if you tore her stockings and you buy her new ones ? If you didn't fuck you'd not have tore 'em, right ? What if you don't like the stockings she has on, and much prefer the ones in the window ? What if you make the girl strip naked as her mother brought her to this world in the middle of a gents' shoe store, all leather and oak panelling, that also sells stockings, because you're considering buying her a pair and want to see how they look on her first ? If you do buy the pair, have you paid for sex ? Whose, yours or the present gents' wives' that evening ?
We went on to talk of other things, but still in this same manner, of her trying and getting humiliated for the attempt. Then we ended up back at her cage, wherein I fucked her in the ass. This activity is pure torture (for her, I'm enjoying it, myself) : I say "bend over", and the next frame I'm stretching her painfully while she's trying to repress her squeals, and then it's pumping all the way homeii. Just like that, off from the street -- heck, for all she knows she's gonna have to do it in the street, next (and she will, too).
I don't mean she isn't enjoying it, necessarily. I'm sure she is. But it's an intellectual rather than a sensual enjoyment, she enjoys being hurt by me, and serving me. She enjoys it like she enjoys hearing "that's a good girl", not like she enjoys the mango icecream we make. Not that there's anything wrong with that!
After I was done, I fished out a bill from my wad -- with a gesture routine'd enough to suggest that perhaps it's not my first time. How the fuck is anything going to be my first time, I've been around for a long, long time and in the end isn't this the fucking point of life ? Trying things ? Anyway, it was a carmine red thousand colones bill, almost two dollars (though not really).
I gave it to her and I told her to buy herself something nice for it. She has no money, you realise, this girl. She's not seen as much as a paper dollar in weeks now, except for the ones in my hand. Then, with a smile, I added "See ? I pay for sex all the time!". I won't go into the layered cake of lolz referenced here, because everyone who socially interacted with her slavery immediately went to a mental space of money and contracts and we had a lot of fun deconstructing all that over the... well, scant few weeks we've known each other. But anyways!
A few days later I had her meet me walking (fabulous walks in Costa Rica, as the man said, "de lo que mis senderos son capaces, solo lo se yo ; quales los igualen, habra ; quales los exceda -- jamas!") and she showed up at the expected time past the expected bend, holding two... coconuts. Pipa fria, in local parlance, put the line in the coconut...
Anyway, 400 colones each. Girl's bought herself something nice for the hardwon-est thousand colones known to this land. That it coincidentally provided succor, delicious cool hydration on a dusty trail, for the most humble author, yours truly I... well, let's call that a coincidental benefit.
The sort of coincidental benefit everything's always about. Now tell me... why is it you don't pay for sex ?———
- People don't simply wake up pantsuit. First they have to spend a while in the holding pens with nothing to do, and practice "handshakes" as if that's a legitimate activity of human adults, and discuss "their feelings" as if such matter. "How do you feel", are "transsexuals" really what they want to be or really what they were born to be ? "Oh Joe, I don't knoe, but the vague cloud of progressive nonsense I seem to have absorbed from no particular relationship to the elders and no particular insistence upon the books would seem to dictate that freedom means people get to be what they say not what they are!" "So you ever heard of chromosomes ?" "Nope, not really."
- In fairness, somethimes I don't manage to tear her seal on the first try, and then it's "here, suck on this [cock that was just in your ass], make it big and strong so it hurts you". And she does. Of course she does. What would you do ? [↩]