|
|
|
|
|
|
There are two ways to say it.
1) "Well, she's only been a week in the business. Can't get anything from her at this point."
2) "Well, she's only been a week in the fucking business. Can't get anything from her at this point."
What's the difference?
For one, the latter is a bit rude at face value. The first one, on the other hand, is rude in a gentlemanly way, in that dirty words (i.e. "fucking") would just make everything uncivilized and not worthy of attention. This would make the latter one a bit unsophisticatedly sloppy, hence with less appeal.
Unfortunately, I meant the title as it is. A week in the fucking business. As in the business of fucking.
Context can do a lot to meaning.
If anyone has only been a week in the fucking business, expect business to be good. And good means good business flows in two directions: towards the fucker and the fuckee.
The fuckee gets good business because she gets paid a lot just for being new. Money for just about nothing. Images of meat and real estate come to mind.
The fucker, on the other hand, gets good business because he gets the best there is. And it doesn't really matter if intrinsically, the meat is a bit off. The point is the meat is fresh.
Now what is fresh? Is fresh different from frozen? Japanese sensibilities come to mind.
Ever wondered what's the difference from sashimi in Saisaki and Kikufuji? There's an old Japanese sage (by the name of my boss), who said that sashimi is expensive, despite of its very basic preparation, because of the care one takes in making sure that every sashimi is served fresh. This is why the best time to order sashimi is when there are a lot of people in the restaurant, so you can be sure that the sashimi you're getting is freshly killed and cut.
I think I'm sounding a bit Japanese.
Funny, in Japanese AVs (adult videos-their term for porn), girls are made up so they look fresh. In fact, they're made up so fresh that sometimes, there's nothing to augment the ladies' beauty but a little lipstick. Everything is natural. Even the bush is made to look natural. I doubt if they even touch it. The point is that the girls look young. Fresh. High school-girl fresh. And they start scenes with talking, then eventually, it's as if you, the horny audience, talking to her. And taking her clothes off. And touching her. And slurping on her mouth.
All in the name of sensual fidelity. Freshness.
Now, if you've watched Prosti by Erik Matti (yes, featuring Her Highness Aubrey Miles), you will hear the wise old Mamasan preaching the philosophy of the flesh trade.
People come to the brothel, not only to fuck and fulfill desires of the flesh, but to be involved in a substitute reality, where they can do what they can't do in the real world, and to people that would gladly let them do it to them.
The one-weeker in the fucking business. You don't get one of these every time. You can't get one of these, and get one of these who really, really, really like their job.
Seriously. It's a hell of a catch.
Usually, when you go out there, preying for meat, you hope to get a pretty cooperative slave who basically knows how to strut it, do it for you, give you a good time.
However, most of the time, you get someone who's basically a veteran; meaning she's been there, done that. Lay flat on her back and won't do squat. The most she'll do is open up her legs and try to avoid your lips from touching hers.
Luckily, one day you stumble upon the week-old. A signifier must be appropriate ("the"), as you will not find as much week-olders such as this one. She had a neutral accent, nothing like a turn-off. You have faith in what she says is her age. You find her angelic. You find her posturing innocent. You find her smell fantastic. You believe that she's only one week in the fucking business. Her pimp tells you she's one week in the fucking business. You know she knows for a fact because it's also her fucking business.
Eyes can be deceiving, looks can be practiced in front of a mirror, and nice fragrances come in bottles.
So what gave her away?
(How can I say this properly?)
When we kissed, we kissed. As in she opened her mouth.
And there was passion. And moaning. And synchronized gyration. God, her breath smelled fresh. Her skin smelled and felt fresh.
And there's something in girls' eyes that come out and tell you she wants to be with you. Even if you know it's only for tonight.
And we did it twice. I didn't even need to pay her. She was doing this out of her own hormonal needs.
All because she was a week into the fucking business.
Iņigo's stuff are also posted in http://nyigs.blogspot.com.
Wherever's his stuff's posted first, he doesn't care.
Recommend this article to a friend!
Comment on this article!
 |
|
|
|