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EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK:
Cathouses and Other Clubs
As I said, the
very first night at Fort Bliss we ignored Gunny Black’s order
and rushed straight to Juarez. When we got to the border, the
Texan-Mexican sky was dusky; a sullen looking guard approached
us. “Documentes, senores, por favor!”
He looked at us
with eyes hooded in suspicion, then at our military I.D’s,
scanning back and forth from the I.D.’s to our faces.
Seemingly
satisfied, his face transform into a bland official mask, he
gestured for us to cross the bridge over the Rio Grande.
In the movies,
the Rio Grande looks like a wide tumbling river, clean,
sparkling, with a promise of life.
The reality of
the ‘river’ between Juarez and El Paso was instead a foul
trickle of sewage rambling through a giant concrete slue.
From where we
stood, Juarez looked like a concrete sprawl, with a flowering of
neon lights sprinkled and laced throughout the main drag.
The patterns of light
dwindling down on side streets radiated away in every direction
from the strip
As we traveled
the length of the bridge, in my inexperience mind, Juarez looked
like it glistened with a myriad of potentialities.
The city was a
cacophony of sounds, a whirling montage of images, with crowds
of people, milling in and out of stores and traffic. There was
the hustling and bustling of U.S. soldiers, vendors, and
tourists, mingling with work-a-day Mexican citizens.
As we walked on
the main drag, the exotic feel of the city intoxicated me. We
mingled in the stores, and markets and the vendors were glutted
with velvet paintings, wallets, purses, Indian jewelry, watches,
lighters, cameras, you name it, it was all there.
Interspersed
among the businesses that sold sundries were restaurants,
massage parlors and numerous bars and whorehouses, set up like
flesh-peddling supermarkets.
Juarez was like
an unauthorized adult theme park for servicemen and civilians
alike in a quest for gratifications of the flesh not to be found
describe in any tourist book shelved at any reputable chamber of
commerce.
I felt like I
was Sean Connery in a James Bond movie. I felt as if I was in
Tangiers, Cairo, or a dozen other exotic places. Life felt
romantic! I imagined this is how my dad felt when he traveled
the various fleshpots of the world. I imagined I was like my
dad, and in some ways I was glad.
The first club
that the veterans of Juarez took us to was the New Year’s Club.
To my unworldly mind, this club looked like a saloon from the
old west. There was red velvet wallpaper and women lounging
around in their ‘come-hither,’ open for business lingerie.
The air was
filled with the taste of Old Spice aftershave,
perfume, stale sweat, spilt beer, greasy cooking and cigarettes
smoke. The place even sounded festive with music, conversation,
catcalls and laughter.
The old
seasoned hands that brought us to the club were educating us
greenhorns on the lay of the land. We were told all sorts of
fables from the old salts; they were after all veteran lounge
lizards of the sex shops.
As newcomers we
were told that the women would only go for you if they found you
attractive. I had learned this was often true if the
girls of the night were very good looking, as these women could
afford to be choosy; at least, in the upscale establishments.
We situated
ourselves at an optimal vantage point from which we could
indulge in aggressive voyeurism as we guzzled Mexican beer. The
girls sauntered about, advertising their goods, signaling their
willingness to merge, their devotion to business extreme.
One beautiful
working gal, a spitting image of the celebrity Charro, came over
and sat next to me. She asked me to buy her a beer as she rubbed
my member through the fabric of my jeans. An erection sprung up
immediately.
The cocktail
waitress brought over Charro’s beer. Evidently, the beer that
G.I.’s bought for the girls were half the size as ours, for
twice the money. It was just one of the rules of the game.
She rubbed me
some more and leaned in, kissing my neck and whispered, “You
want to be friends?” Let’s cush-cush!”
“I can get use to
this”, I thought. I felt I was in heaven.
To me, it felt as if
I had finally come home.
We negotiated a
price of five U.S. dollars. We went upstairs, traversing a
hallway lined with doors to bedrooms in use, where transactions
of U.S. dollars from the men in exchange for the sexual currency
from the women they wanted to fuck.
She took me
into a room and kissed and stroked my cock with eagerness. Then
she told me her first lie. “You have donkey dick.”
I saw no reason
to argue.
It was an
instant later that I found out, when you choose a woman to take
to the back rooms, you had to meet the approval of a middle-aged
woman, a nurse of sorts, who’s job it is to examined and milk
your excited member, to check for sores or any unhealthy
discharge. (This precaution was exercised only in the upscale
establishments on the main drag).
Their fee for
providing these exams was two bits.
She milked me
as effectively as any dairymaid.
To get over my
nervousness over this unexpected clinical exam, I tried to joke
with the matronly woman, “See, no cockaroach, no gonohare! (no
crabs and no gonorrhea).” She feigned amusement.
As soon as I
was cleared for flight, Charro and I made our way to the bed.
She wanted to skip the preambles of ‘phase two foreplay.’ She
did not want to waste much time on phase three either.
Not being one
of those guys that liked to jump the gun from the gate and make
a mad rush to the finish line, her impatience disappointed me.
She and I were
pumping and driving against each other mercilessly. Arrogant, I
vowed that I was going to impress her with all the tricks Honey
had taught me at Upper Merion High School. I was going to show
her how long I could last without cumming.
Suddenly, she
cried out a counterfeit orgasm! As if I would not be able to
tell!
Well, I was not
finished, not by a long shot. I was going to show her that she
did not have to give me counterfeited goods. I was going to show
her how skilled I was and give her the real full meal deal!
Without warning
she bucked me off of her and said that the time was up. I was
emphatic about needing to cum. She begrudgingly complied and let
me ride her for another stretch; then she crow hopped and bucked
again, and again I was off, demanding that I needed to finish.
Again she complied, telling me that I had exceeded my time. I
was no longer concerned about her pleasure. I desperately needed
to cum!
Finally I was
bucked off so violently that I found myself laying on the floor,
on my back, feeling ridiculous with my member beating like a
runaway heart, as she, without a heart ran away.
It’s funny,
back then nothing would bring an erection down, not being thrown
out of an airplane, not breaking a leg, not falling into a coma,
and for some of my male relatives, not even death.
It is different
when you get older, a fit of intestinal gas, or concern over
ones laundry list of the day, stuff like that could kill an
erection. Ah, where are the good ole’ days?
Okay, I’m
back.
After I had
peeled myself off the floor, I gathered my clothes and humbly
went downstairs with my tail between my legs (Still slapping my
belly if truth be told).
I went back to
perch at the vantage point where I had left my friends. We all
commiserated over my derailment with a few more beers. Drinking
and eyeballing the bar room I felt like a kid in a candy store.
I fretted over who I would choose, “How about her? No, her...
no, no, her! Too many god damn options”, I thought.
Within an hour,
I caught the eye of a pretty little girl with a wondrous body
named Claudia. She came over to sit with me, and true to form,
it was a repeat of the previous ritual of undersize beer,
kissing, overtures of friendship by her rubbing my cock and then
negotiation for cush-cush.
Since my pride
had been hurt and I felt cheated from the previous ride, I acted
like a cheap ass and refused to negotiate fairly. Instead, I
lied and said that I did not have any more money.
Finally caving
in, Claudia decided to take me upstairs to one of the rooms that
were sequestered for the girls that wanted to give freebies.
Claudia and I
had explosive sex for hours. We fucked, relaxed, talked, joked,
laughed, and then fucked some more. My appetites were
insatiable. Then she started to get funny on me. She started
talking about our future, our family, and our life together.
I told Claudia
that I like her, but I really did not want to have a family or
to be tied down to any one woman.
I was starting
to get nervous about the whole scene. I knew I was good; but
that good?
When she
realized that sex had not swept me up in the whole scheme of
things, she threw herself on to the bed and wept and wailed
piteously.
My heartstrings
and lack of experience was unprepared to deal with her angst.
Finally, I convinced her that things would be okay. I made the
mistake to think that my telling her that everything would be
okay that she understood exactly where I was coming from.
She
lightened up, and wiped her tears. I suggested
that we go back downstairs, since it was getting late. As she
entered the landing of the stairs on to the club floor, she made
exaggerated gestures to the other girls, smiled and said,
“Vincente’ has got donkey dick.
I laughed at
her exaggeration. I’m not being unduly modest; it was just the
normal statement that many of the working girls would say, after
they had sex with many of the guys. Perhaps, I’m wrong. Perhaps
donkeys have small dicks and it is their cousins the mule that
has an epic member.
I must say, it
also seemed that there was a direct correlation between how much
money you spent on a woman and how big your dick seem to be in
their eyes.
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(GENESIS)
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(EXODUS)
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(REVELATIONS)
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(JUDGMENT DAY)
THE MARINES: GOD'S CHOSEN
WARRIORS
VINCE'S GYM
CONVERSATIONS WITH NEO
NEO TEACHES ME THE ART OF WAR
& PEACE;
His Version of The Matrix
MEMORIES OF MY FATHERS
ZEN & THE ART OF RESISTANCE
TRAINING:
A Yogic & Scientific Approach To Weight
Lifting
ZEN & THE BIOLOGY OF
TRANSCENDENCE:
The First Matrix of Psychic
Phenomena
ZEN & THE ART OF KINESIOLOGY:
The Yogic & Scientific
Approach To Movement
ZEN & YOUR ENERGY SYSTEMS
ZEN & VARIOUS ASPECTS OF
TRAINING
HOMEPAGE TO ADVENTURES IN MARINE BIOLOGY
HOMEPAGE |
