I Pay For The Room And Services Not Rendered

The few times i have been there, i have realized that sex is no frills, compared to what i get when am in the house with a girl (who is not my wife, or girlfriend for that matter).

They say quality sex goes beyond the physical, though for some reasons, men like us love to experiment with different styles….as in start with the basics, then curve my way out into a new style.

But i realize that this is not possible with a whore, unless you pay more money to get the extras.

So it all starts this way; I make my way into the entrance of a loud pub, because i know am bound to find a pretty girl here. It is very rare to find an ”unattractive” or decent girl visiting these places. Again, because i love to explore, i have always put my faith on weird ladies—those who make unexpected moves i wouldn’t anticipate. It’s called the power of mysterious girls.

Now am inside the establishment. It’s on a Friday night, but not so late, say 8:30pm hivi. The atmosphere is excellent for men and women who are here for a common goal, to make money, and likewise to find fulfillment.

I spot a bevy of 3 beautiful chics, seemingly into deep conversation on one of the dimly-lit corners. I think the DJ must have been playing sexual healing by Marvin Gay. This particular girl catches my attention very much, but too bad, she’s a whore, so i can’t even think of marrying her!

She notices how i am staring towards her direction, so she glances towards me a second time, just to make sure that she’s my target. She winks and i smile in return. I quickly signal her to come over to the ”table of men”.

After a few bottles, she asks me in Swahili, ”twende shortie”. I ask, how much? She says 500 only. Normally, this is not the price here, but since she knows am desperate about her ”cookie jar”, she confidently quotes anything because desperation is clearly written all over my face.

Finally after minutes of bargaining, we settle at 400. I ask her about the price of the room, and she says it’s only 200. So i agree to pay at the counter, and the attendant hands over some durex condoms wrapped in tissue paper….alas! I am now panting with excitement because i can’t wait to munch the sweet things of this slim-looking figure.

It’s a long corridor, and i don’t know directions or whatever room we’re bound to end up in. Inside this building, nothing is predictable. The venue of sex is unknown, just as what will happen when there—i could lose my wallet in the process, i have heard of such stories before in hall 14.

Since it’s a Friday, the rooms are packed with sex-hungry clients, so we have to queue awkwardly, praying so hard that i might not bump into a familiar face. This could be the embarrassment of my entire life.

It’s also a standard rule among girls here that if a couple stays for more than 5 minutes while others are waiting, they bang the door severally…Finish Up!

Once we’re inside, the girl asks money first below lowering her zipper (she’s wearing a tight jeans, highlighting her essentials well). I hate it when a girl asks for money first, i prefer doing it then i pay latter. It puts me off, to the extent that my “P” can’t arise to the occasion. So i pay, but now she has to activate my P to gain the hardness it once had before this interruption.

The girl seems to be in a harry, so she lowers her jeans without caring whether or not i was ready. My p can’t gain a strong erection still, though there are signs that it will wake up. So i reach out for her breasts and she turns me down. It’s an issue to do with money and time, no room for the extras. We’ve also been inside this room for 10 minutes, and guys outside are already knocking the door furiously.

The more tensed i become, the more my p relaxes after several attempts to erect. So the girl sympathizes with me, and let me touch her breast, at least to compensate for the loss of paying for the room and services not rendered. This has never happened to me before, but i guess am just not able to have quick sex under such pressure!

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