Simon King

Joseph

 Most of all I was enamoured by her lips. I have never seen lips like those on any other woman. The dingy room was unbelievably confining, but this did nothing but heighten her incredibly striking allure.
I bit her nipples. I clenched my teeth on them, consuming its taste in my mouth. The nipples had a flavour of nothing I'd ever come across before; it was the flavour of new times.
And while I bit her nipples, she looked down on me and smirked: beautiful red lips opening up to reveal her tongue leaping out of her mouth.
My growing erection would not come out. It would not come nor leave my trousers. It would be my mouth which would orgasm, as I salivated these breasts. A feast of roundness covered by a flowing cascade of saliva.
I finally took my penis out. Her black leaped over, covering her face. She would get those perfect, red lips on my cock. A motion of ascension and descension ensued. Her face enthralled in this act, brought out my pleasure into the open. As she sucked my cock, I maintained my hands on her breasts covered by saliva. I fondled them as she continued to salivate my erection.
I then entered her cunt. This magnificent prostitute would not lie about coming, her shrieks of pleasure were genuine and real. I cum into her cunt as I kiss those lips, inciting an act of love unmatched by any other customer. But who are those other customers? They would not come close to equalling my sexual act, an act devoid of love but filled with an anguishing passion.

Thomas

I looked up to the woman wearing a black dress with skimpy clothing accompanying it. This was the only woman I could have some sort of relationship with. I can't endure the horrors of being celibate, so sexual intercourse with a prostitute - or at least some sort of conversation - is the closest I can come to making contact with the opposite sex. I don't have the courage to establish friendships with other males, either.
"So what do you do for a living?" she asked as she walked over to me. I was sat on the far end of the bed that was positioned at the far right of the small room. As she asked this question, I gazed at the overhanging light bulb that gave me a headache.
"I... I..." I stuttered as I struggled to articulate myself. "I work at a factory. After dropping out of university, that is. But I spend my time reading and writing."
She smiled and leant over to me to fondle my leg, moving her arm up to my genitals. As I felt the touch of her hand on them, I got up and walked over to the opposite end of the room, leaning over a desk. As the bulb glinted behind me, I gasped nervously and subsequently closed my eyes.
"You won't have sex with me? Well, that's what you paid me for..."
"I know, I know. It's just that I... I..."
She smiled. "Come here," she said. "Are you a virgin? Here, sit next to me."
I walked over to her and positioned myself on her lap. She crossed her two legs over mine, enclosing herself around me. Her black hair leapt out and dangled over my face.
"What books do you read?"
"Erm, a variety of things... Dostoyevsky and Thomas Mann stand out, though."
"Heh. You must be a bright spark."
"I guess... I must pursue my interests, and society is constantly scrutinizing me. We are all within this vast spectrum of clashing theologies and ideologies. I must find some sort of comfort, and hence my contact with prostitutes."
She laughed and took out a cigarette, a cloud of smoke emerging out of her mouth and rising up to the light bulb.
"Here," I said, "Read this to me." I took out a copy of The Brothers Karamazov and placed it on her lap. I opened it up to a page within the chapter The Grand Inquisitor.
Her smooth, calm voice read out "So in truth, thou didst thyself lay the foundation for the destruction of thy kingdom, and no one is to blame for it - "
She stopped herself and looked up to me. I had unbuttoned my trousers and brought out my erected penis into view. She nervously laughed and questioned "What are you doing? You're masturbating yourself while I read this?"
I wiped off the flowing sweat on my forehead and uttered "if you don't mind... Proceed."
She laughed nervously and continued "Yet what was offered thee? There are three powers, three powers alone, able to conquer and to hold captive forever the conscience of these impotent rebels for their happiness - those forces are miracle, mystery and authority."
I maintained my gaze on her as she kept reading out, and my hand was undergoing an accelerated movement over my erection during the pinnacle of its powers. She kept reading with "Thou hast rejected all three and hast set the example of doing so - " as I ejaculated prematurely over the sheets of the bed. She stopped reading immediately and inclined herself over the bed, looking up to me, gazing over me gasping frantically with my mouth wide open. My testicles were tightly entrenched within my underwear as I saw her staring into my eyes. As she kept her gaze on me, she rolled out her tongue on the semen. She closed her eyes and opened them again as the semen seeped out of her mouth. Now she had her eyes on the floor, and her mouth was slightly open. The semen flowed out of her mouth, sloping down onto her chin. The semen stopped flowing but remained on her chin, but it eventually dripped down onto the ground. The drops of semen fell onto the ceramics comprising the floor. As I saw the whiteness on the floor, she looked up to me and we made eye contact. My erection had now decreased despite the stimulation produced by these actions and occurrences.

Jim

I walked into the room and saw this woman with black hair. I closed the door. She smiled. I took my trousers off. My penis was erect. She took her clothes off. She put some lipstick on her face. I leaned over the mattress and woman as I inserted my penis into her vulva. I pushed my penis forward. She groaned. I didn't. I kept pushing forward into her vulva. She closed her eyes and demanded "A little more enthusiasm, Jim" and she laughed. The sweat poured over my moustache. The sex continued for a long time. She opened her eyes and she screamed "That's it, that it." She kept repeating this phrase again and again until I ejaculated. I stopped moving my penis. It reduced itself to its original size. "Did you cum?" she asked. She laughed. "You certainly didn't show it." She kept laughing. "You made me cum more than the other customers, Jim," she said, laughing continuously. I put my trousers back on. "They were still very good, but you..." I didn't say anything. "Maybe I could have sex with them again to compare... Maybe" I acknowledged her by saying "Ah" and left the room. I walked down the stairs. I went home.

Joseph

I touch her lips, with a finger I touch the surface of her lips. As I caress her lips with my finger, I draw it. I draw her lips. I then close my eyes to erase my creation, and then I open them again to recommence. These movements with eyes and fingers are also the same as one with our mouths. We put them together, interrelate them to create a new conception. We kiss. I erase this conception, but I still experience the remnants of it as I feel the sensation of my mouth on hers, of her mouth on mine. I erase it marginally - but not completely - by closing my eyes. The darkness, the realm experienced prior to dreaming. This darkness is mingled with her breath over my nose, the olfactory sensation of new times.
The two mouths fight a battle; we fight a battle of respect. We look at each other, with her eyes approaching towards mine. We make eye contact, and the eyes get bigger, confronting for dominance and control. There is the breath of previously-eaten fruit, and there is a breath, again, of new times.
I kiss her for the love of her lips, that's all. I have no love for this woman, but she brings me close to the sensation of perfection and inexorable satisfaction. And I feel her brood against me like a rock thrown into the water.

Thomas

"I often think of death..."
"You're young, aren't you?" she said, looking with a shrewd bemusement. "Why do you think of death?"
"The constant process of alienation. It's exhausting to be ostracized, to be left aside. Thinking of death in these circumstances is inevitable. I can only lay aside and think, that's my only comfort."
I paced around the small room, constrained by the small space. "My thoughts are mere cliches, constantly churned out by millions of others. I can't see myself as singular!"
"You are in my eyes," she said, laughing.
"Yes, that's what I perceive, but not many will call me singular. I am one of thousands - nay, millions. It's funny that you say something like that... How our thoughts are entwined and interrelated. It's not telepathy, but thinking and talking is the same thing. Our thoughts are a myriad of independent intricacies. When we talk, we filter them out with precision - we refine it, edit it. The process for talking and thinking are the same. Speech is a resurrection of thought. It is all cyclical."
There was an aura of eventuality that culminated in my monologue, as though everything had reached its conclusion. But this was rectified by her interjection: "You look forward to death, but what about sex? ..."
 I kept my eye on the ceiling, the remark defeating me. I remained silent and turned my gaze towards the prostitute. "There's no reason for why those can't be fused together."
"Would you have sex while dying?" she asked.
"Perhaps while dying a gruesome, morbid death... I am too shy to have sex, that's true... But they are two different fears - sex and death. They are both a culmination of ecstasy; they are preceded by a lot of activity..."
I lied down on the bed, and she leant toward me. She stretched her arm over my abdomen, approximating towards my penis. At the instant I felt the touch of her hands on it, I immediately got up. I nervously dashed for the door, ignoring all that she could offer. "Perhaps I'm not ready for death," I thought.

                                                                                                Jim

I walked into the room and saw the woman with black hair. I closed the door once more. She smiled like before. I took my trousers off. She put some lipstick on her face just like before. My penis was erect once more. She took her clothes off. I moved forward and positioned myself on the bed and I entered her vagina. I pushed my penis forward again and again. She groaned again. I didn't. The action persisted as I kept pushing forward into her vulva. She had her eyes closed. She opened them again and uttered "Magnificent" before closing her eyes and resuming the groaning once again. She kept groaning and groaning until I finally ejaculated into her vagina. I stopped moving my penis. It reduced itself to its original size. As I stopped moving it, she laughed and said "You came! You certainly don't show your pleasure! You are very restrained, but I'm the opposite of you when you put that penis of yours inside me... Did you enjoy it?" I answered "Yes" before turning around and leaving the room. I walked down the stairs. I went home.

Joseph, Thomas and Jim

The circular table stretches out, occupying most of the room. Three chairs are positioned around it. A man sits at the left of the table, reading a book. His face reveals an expression of intensive, forced concentration. There is also a look of uncertainty in his face, a look of incommodity as these are not his homely surroundings. As a result of this incommodity, there is a slight tinge of exasperation apparent in the nervous suspiration he inhales and exhales.
Another man walks in and sees this man reading the book. This man has a monotonous face, showing a deep trace of indifference and passivity. He remains standing, looking at the man reading the book. The man reading the book has not yet noticed the appearance of this new figure. But he veers his eyesight away from the pages of his book to see Jim - the monotonous man, the man with the moustache. Jim looks at Thomas who has a look of hesitant uncertainty and says "Yes?"
"I am here to see a prostitute," Jim says.
"So am I... Evidently."
They both stare at each other. Thomas resumes his reading, inclining his head forward onto his book. Jim sits at the right end of the table and remains seated as looks ahead to the vision of Thomas' nervous appearance as he reads his book. There is a silence that pervades the room now.
A man comes storming in at a crazed velocity into the room. He stops and observes his new surroundings.
"Where is she?" he questions.
He gets no answer.
"Well? ..."
"She's not around," Jim says.
This new man laughs. "That's unlike her," he says. This is Joseph - the wild man, the man with veracity.
"I've always wondered what the other customers are like," he mutters. "I can certainly see that they are quite subdued." He turns to Thomas and asks "What are you reading?"
Thomas looks alarmed and puts his book aside. "Nothing..."
"Nothing? Does your book have any words?" He laughs, leaves his chair and paces around the dingy room. He laughs as he walks voraciously around the confining room. There is a glint in his eyes - a glint of madness. He stops walking and looks directly into Jim's eyes. "So who are you?" he asks
"My name is Jim," he answers.
"Why do you come to see a prostitute, then?"
"I don't know," he coldly retorts.
Joseph maniacally laughs prior to incessantly jumping towards several directions of the room. "You both are very responsive!"
He stops all his movements as he positions his hands on the table and inadvertently shouts without any real motive.
As he shouts, the prostitute walks into the room. "What's that racket," she asks.
"I was trying to call you! I didn't want to be stuck with this talkative bunch."
"They might not be talkative, but they certainly understand women."
"Are you implying that I don't?"
"You do, but in a different way... Calm down and sit down. Do any of you want any coffee?"
"Yes!" Joseph energetically responded.
She went to the kitchen which was hidden from view. Joseph sat himself down. The woman eventually returned to the table. "What are you thinking?" she asked Thomas, who had a contemplative look on his face.
"I was thinking about the other customers."
"Me too," Joseph interjected.
There was an aura of somnolence in the room, of withered, maimed lethargy. This was incited by Joseph's remark, which reduced things to rubble.
"Thomas, you touched my mind. Jim, you touched my cunt. And Joseph... you touched my soul."
"And who did you prefer?" he asked.
"I could never decide..." A smirk formed itself on her face, a look of mangled benevolence encompassing the varied scope of the customer's emotions.

June-July, 2009