EXCERPT FOR THE BOOK

'MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT' - One Primates Search For Intelligent Life!

Juarez - Disneyland for Marines

31°44′22″N 106°29′13″W

Cathouses and Other Clubs

      I am standing alone on a bridge that feels familiar, though I can’t remember from when or where. I look behind me. I noticed that the Gateway Mall is behind me.

It looks right. It feels wrong.

Suddenly, I am not alone. My friend and coworker Phoenix is with me. He looks eager and serious.

My brother James is with me also. He is younger than I think he should be.

My roommate at Fort Bliss, Private Ficket from Kansas is with me too.

I feel confused but comforted by their company.

For some reason, I think I am looking at a Texan-Mexican sky and it is dusky and I see on the other side of the bridge is Juarez. It is beckoning us to party. A sullen looking guard approaches us. He is the manager at the Federal agency where Phoenix and I work, though he does not appear to recognize us or cares to acknowledge us.

He looks at us. His eyes hooded in suspicion, “Documentes, senores, por favor!”

I show him my Marine Corp I.D. Then Phoenix shows his military I.D.

“Is that right? Was he in the military?”

I feel questioning anxiety.

James shows the guard a Chucky Cheese coupon and this satisfies the guard.

For some reason, I am not surprised.

      He looks at us once again with his hooded suspicious eyes, then at our military I.D’s, scanning back and forth from the I.D.’s to our faces. Seemingly satisfied, his face transforms into a bland official mask, he gestures for us to cross the bridge over the Rio Grande.

I notice that the Rio Grande is a foul trickle of sewage rambling through a giant concrete slue.

      From where we stand, Juarez looks 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 radiate away in every direction from the strip.

      As we are traveling the length of the bridge, I notice that Juarez looks like it is glistening with a myriad of potentialities. The city is a cacophony of sounds, a whirling montage of images, with crowds of people, milling in and out of stores and traffic.

There is the hustling and bustling of U.S. soldiers, vendors, and tourists, mingling with work-a-day Mexican citizens.

      As we are walking the main drag, the exotic feel of the city is intoxicating. The stores, and markets and the vendors glutted with velvet paintings, wallets, purses, Indian jewelry, watches, cigarette lighters and cameras. Interspersed throughout, there are businesses selling sundries. I see restaurants, massage parlors and numerous bars and whorehouses, set up like flesh-peddling supermarkets.

      It appears as if Juarez is set-up like an unauthorized adult theme park for servicemen and civilians alike, for all of us on our quest for gratifications of the flesh not to be found describe in any tourist book shelved at any reputable chamber of commerce.

      I am feeling like I am in a James Bond movie, in Tangiers, Cairo, or a dozen other exotic places. I am feeling that life is romantic! I imagined this is how my dad feels when he travels the various fleshpots of the world. I imagined I am like my dad, and in some ways I am glad.

      We are approaching a place called the New Year’s Club. To my unworldly mind, this club looks like a saloon from the old west. There is red velvet wallpaper and women lounging around in their ‘come-hither’, open for business lingerie.

      The air is filled with the taste of aftershave, perfume, stale sweat, spilt beer, greasy cooking and cigarettes smoke. There are sounds festive with music, conversation, catcalls and laughter.

      I look around at my friends to see if they are taking all of this in. My brother James is nowhere in sight. I can’t be certain, but it looks as if Phoenix and Private Ficket traded clothes; when I couldn’t say. Now my friend and coworker, Beef Stu is with us. I am sort of surprised, but I accept this.

      The four of us situate ourselves at an optimal vantage point from which we indulge in aggressive voyeurism as we guzzle Mexican beer. The girls sauntered about, advertising their goods, signaling their willingness to merge, their devotion to business extreme.

      One beautiful working gal approaches.

It’s Carlita, the older girl I had so often lusted for in Junior High School.

She sits next to me. She asks me to buy her a beer.

I motion to a waitress to get her a beer.

Carlita is rubbing my cock through the fabric of my jeans. An erection springs up immediately. It feels like it’s going to split like a ‘Ballpark Frank.’

      “Oh, my fucking god, don’t stop.”

      “Strange, I feel really wet there.”

 The cocktail waitress brings over Carlita’s beer.       

      Carlita is still rubbing my cock and she leans in, kissing my neck, whispering, “You want to be friends?” Let’s cush-cush!”

“I have missed this.”

“I can get use to this.”

I am in heaven.

      She unbuckles my pants and pulls out my throbbing penis. It is swaying about like a branch in the wind. I look over at my friends. I am hoping they are not watching. They are.

Carlita is now on her knees in front of me. I didn’t notice how she got there so quickly. She puts my swollen cock in her mouth and she starts to suck the bejesus out of me. I shudder with pleasure. I look quickly back at my friends. I am embarrassed that they are watching. They act as if what Carlita is doing to me in the bar is the most natural act in all of God’s creation.

      I am still embarrassed. My hold on reality is slipping. Though, I don’t discourage her from pleasuring me. Carlita gets up and lifts up her dress. She is not wearing anything underneath. She mounts me, sliding my cock into her pussy. I don’t stop her. I nearly lose consciousness.

      The intensity of pleasure is cascading through my body. We are both moaning.

I still have a shred of self-consciousness.

“Fuck, I hope no one else in the bar is watching.”

I look over at my friends. Beef Stu looks bored and heads for the bar for a drink. Phoenix and Private Fickett are eye-balling some whores they want to fuck.

      I am still embarrassed to be fucking in public.

“Let’s go someplace private.”

She nods her head in agreement and stands up abruptly, sliding off my cock. The pleasure disappears.

I feel an aching sense of loss. I want to be back inside her.

She extends her hand demanding five U.S. dollars.

I am confused as to why she of all people would charge me money. I want my cock back in her, so I give her five dollars. From somewhere she produces a mug of steaming hot cocoa and hands it too me with a sweet smile.

“Time for you to thaw out!” Then she laughs musically

I turn towards my friends to tell them that I am going upstairs.

They are nowhere in sight.

Carlita and I are walking 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 want.

      Carlita is leading me into a room that is large and looks strangely familiar, although I can’t figure out why. The room looks more like a factory and warehouse. Strewn all about are containers of parcels and BMC’s of trayed letters. Throughout the room there is large piles of abandoned letters and small parcels. Some piles are big enough to be held in truck beds. Some of the piles have hastily thrown blankets tossed atop with pillows sitting here and there.

For some reason I am feeling sharp anxiety.

This does not dampen my invincible erection or my desire to fuck Carlita.

An old woman comes into the room and she is insisting to check out my penis for sores or discharge.

She is stroking my erection as if she is milking a cow. Satisfied that I was disease free she demands two-bits for her efforts.

Suddenly Beef Stu and my ex-roommate Jeb are pushing containers of mail through the room. Beef Stu nods at me in appreciation. Jeb makes a point to look away. He seems angry and resentful.

I am too surprise at their presence to hide my eager erection.

Carlita pulls me over to a huge pile of mail. It has a huge quilt covering much of the pile. Once on top of the pile we begin kissing and stroking each other. She tells me her first lie. “You have donkey dick.”

I find her disingenuous complement amusing. I see no reason to argue.

I look down at my cock and I am shocked to see that it is over three times its normal size. It feels foreign. My sense of reality is starting to slip once again, the room is spinning; finally, I manage to re-stabilize. As I look down at my enormous cock, I feel a mixture of apprehension and a small measure of delight.

Carlita takes my cock and despite its enormous size, she deftly slides it deeply into her hot welcoming pussy.

She and I are pumping and driving against each other mercilessly. I feel a familiar energy ball centered between my anus and scrotum. It starts to spread to the base of my spine. My entire body is thrumming, my cells, my synapses, my very atoms are vibrating. Carlita is screaming in pleasure as she orgasms endlessly. My cock is twitching in tandem to her convulsing pussy. I about ready to blow my load.

      Suddenly, she bucks me off her. She is vicious. She tells me my time is up. In the twilight, I see that somehow, somewhere during the fucking, my ex-fiance’ Pandora has taken Carlita’s place.

I am confused, my reality reeling. I feel pain throughout my body. I still need to cum. Aside from the intense pain throbbing in my every cell; cumming is all I can think about.

I look at Pandora. She is beautiful. I hate her for what she has done to me and I still love her and I still want to fuck her mercilessly. We always have great sex.

I grab her roughly, and force her back on the pile of mail. Anyone else would be screaming rape, but Pandora gets wet and becomes limp whenever I get rough. It is one of her sexual triggers and I take full advantage of it. Her vicious expression becomes soft and loving. This is what she wants. The problem is, this is how she almost always wants it.

“I love you Vinny.”

“I love you Pandora.”

“You’re the only man for me.”

“You are my woman.”

My cock is inside her, at home where it belongs.

Her legs wrap around me struggling towards orgasm, like a starfish working on a clam it’s about to devour.

She cums hard and I am almost there with her.

Suddenly she is crow hopping and bucks me off again.

Her voice is once again vicious. Her face is once again evil and malevolent.

I grab her and force my cock back in her. She moans once again in pleasure, She is screaming that she loves me and is cumming again.

I start screaming as I am just on the brink of cumming, “I love you baby doll!”

I am thinking, “You are one sick fucking bitch and I am one sick ass for wanting you, for loving you.”

I am ready to cum. She bucks me off violently. I am falling off the pile of mail. I hit the floor. I am on my back. I feel intense pain. I can’t breathe. My cock is still erect, beating like a runaway heart, as she, the hateful bitch – without a heart is running away, laughing.

She disappears and her laughter is echoing in the distance, in the bleak darkness.

I feel shards of pain cutting in my chest. My entire body feels bruised to the marrow.

“I can’t breathe!”

It hurts terribly as I try.

My cock is ready to bust, needing to cum, not quite there. It is no longer pleasure. It is all pain, ready to rupture. I look down. I feel terror and horror at what I see.

There are large tears and ulcerations covering my cock. These are rotted deeply to the center.

I am sort of weeping. My troubled breathing makes it hard to weep. Weeping causes me great pain. But I desperately want to weep. I need to purge my pain. I want to weep from the horror of what Pandora has done to me. I grieve and want to weep from the loss of her.

“Please come back.”

Please don’t leave me baby doll.”

“For Christsake! I can’t fucking breathe!”

I’m dying….

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