humor----part-1-of-1

Sense of Humor

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The vibration of the water in the glass, next to the bed, was the first warning sign. Like every other night though, she was fast asleep and didn’t see it. The thumping of the short bedposts was the first conscience thing she recognized. They were at it again, the fucking perverts. This had happened almost every other night in the last 3-months. And like clockwork, with a huff, she passionately flipped over on her side and tried to go back to sleep. And as usual she failed.

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Juanita had no idea who these downstairs neighbors were. The building was like a vertical set of close-knit neighborhoods. No one knew anyone from another floor. Juanita had no idea why, that's just the way it was. Juanita, however, was thinking that just might need to change soon, because they were at it again and again she wasn’t getting any sleep.

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Almost every night, with the exception of a few days around the 12^th of the month, the neighbors downstairs would fuck like wild, steroid using rabbits. Juanita punched her pillow in frustration and fought back a scream. It just wasn't fair.

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Downstairs the ‘circus’ was in town again. The springs screeched like 100-year-old hinges in a hurricane. The short legs of the bed banged like some sort of automatic trip-hammer gone wild. It had to be a short leg, she was sure, because if that were a headboard, the poor girl would be brain damaged. Of that Juanita was positive. Then the screaming began.

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Juanita fought tears. It just wasn't fair. Not that the happy couple could have known her situation, but ‘God’ did, and ‘He’ did nothing to stop it. Juanita bit her lip and clutched the sheets up tight, her knuckles white with strain. The problem for the poor 28-year old 'born again' Christian was her church's ban on unmarried sex, unmarried sex of any kind. Sure it had sounded like a good deal when she first came out of rehab and joined the small parish. The last two years had gone by quickly. Her sores and needle marks had healed. Her mind was clear for the first time since childhood, and she had miraculously escaped life as a 'working girl' without contracting 'the HIV' virus. She was truly blessed, she continually reminded herself, because despite the image presented in films, books and television; prostitution places women and children at high risk of violence and death. Regardless of the prostitution's status, be it legal, illegal or decriminalized or its physical location, whether it is strip club, massage parlor, street, an escort at a home or the john’s hotel room, prostitution is extremely dangerous for women. Homicide is a frequent cause of death. Prostituted women are unrecognized victims of intimate partner violence by pimps and customers. Pimps and customers use methods of coercion and control like those of other batterers: minimization and denial of physical violence, economic exploitation, social isolation, verbal abuse, threats and intimidation, physical violence, sexual assault, and captivity. The systematic violence emphasizes the victim's worthlessness except in her role as prostitute.
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Clearly, violence is the norm for women in prostitution. Incest, sexual harassment, verbal abuse, stalking, rape, battering and torture are points on a continuum of violence, all of which occur regularly in prostitution. A difference between prostitution and other types of gender violence is the payment of money for the abuse. Yet payment of money does not erase all that we know about sexual harassment, rape and domestic violence.
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The experiences of a woman, who prostituted primarily in strip clubs, but also in massage, escort and street prostitution, are typical. In strip club prostitution, she was sexually harassed and assaulted. Stripping required her to smilingly accommodate customers' verbal abuse. Customers grabbed and pinched her legs, arms, breasts, buttocks and crotch, sometimes resulting in bruises and scratches. Customers squeezed her breasts until she was in severe pain, and they humiliated her by ejaculating on her face. Customers and pimps physically brutalized her. She was severely bruised from beatings and frequently had black eyes. Pimps pulled her hair as a means of control and torture. She was repeatedly beaten on the head with closed fists, sometimes resulting in unconsciousness. From these beatings, her eardrum was damaged, and her jaw was dislocated and remains so many years later. She was cut with knives. Customers who smoked while raping her burned her with cigarettes. She was gang-raped and she was also raped individually by at least 20 men at different times in her life. These rapes by johns and pimps sometimes resulted in internal bleeding.

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Now not a day went by that she didn’t thank God that she was off the street and drug free. But now abstinence was killing her. As the noise from below enveloped her entire room, she could feel herself getting moist and bit down harder on her lips to make it stop.

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Though she had never met them, the little ‘Latino’ could see them in her mind. Judging by the tone of her voice, she had to be a light skinned black girl probably in her early twenties. In her minds eye, Juanita could see her bent over, down on all fours, dog-style; her big black ass spread wide open. Juanita could picture her dark, furry pink hole was open wide, welcoming him into her enraged womanhood. Juanita couldn’t help herself, she was jealous. With a mind of its own, Juanita's hand inched across her bare thigh, but she caught it in time and returned it to the top of the sheet.

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Picturing her was easy, but he was another matter. The man made very little sound; just barely enough for her to tell that he was a man. Juanita imagined that he was a short, stocky Italian. He had a big barrel chest and was covered in coarse black hair, like some sort of gorilla. Juanita’s thighs twitched as she pictured him in her mind again. His cock was a thing of beauty and raw power, long and fat, with rope like veins that lined its ten-inch length and a bulging golf ball size head looked like a huge purple plum peeking out of its foreskin. When the girl wrapped her hand around it, it would feel like a piece of flesh-covered steel. She could feel her eyes glazing over with lust, as she imagined the feel of its heat on her face, as she leaned forward and inhaled its wild untamed earth aroma. With a sigh of longing, she imagined herself easing back his foreskin and touched its dark purple shaped head to her lips. She wasn't quick enough to keep her fingers from tweaking her stiff nipple through her summer nightgown, as the incessant squeaking and banging went on.

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In her mind, Juanita could see them, sideways across the bed. Her face down in a confused clump of blankets, she slaps her hand franticly on the mattress as he rammed into her from behind. As he plows in and out of her, her thighs opens wider. Sweating in the heat, she’s loudly calling him filthy names. Juanita's leg twitched from hip to toe, as she swallowed hard and tried to remember what the pastor said about temptation, but all she could see was that lovely cock saturated with the bitch's juices. She could mentally see every stroke, and watch every inch drive into that whore. God she was jealous, and sooo horny. This time she ignored the fingers that slipped past the hem of her shift. It felt like seeing an old friend.

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He had her bent in half now, Juanita was sure. He had those fat thighs spread wide, the pink oval open and oozing on his tool. Juanita pictured her face up now, getting viciously slammed in the cooze while having her nipples bitten with an animal passion. Juanita's fingers were dancing through the curly clump of her damp pubic hair. They were slowly zeroing in on their target with the stealth of a ninjas warrior. The poor thing tried hard not to notice, lest she be guilty of sin. Sin never felt so good before.

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Juanita imagined that he had it in her big fat ass now, and the slut loved it. Juanita could tell because the sounds stopped for a minute, then the screaming got louder. Juanita had loved getting it in her own ass, when she was on the street. It was so much safer and more satisfying. She would give that up for half the price of her pussy, and from the safety aspect felt it worth every penny she lost on it. She just knew that this Italian had a cock just made for a juicy ass like hers, and that black cunt downstairs.

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Juanita had lost the battle in her bed. Her insurgent’s fingers had found the secret hiding place where she kept her frustrated clit. They were using the most brutal interrogation tactics, making her ‘frig’ herself like a horny twelve year old again. She remembered those days fondly, with a sinful smile and a heartfelt sigh of enthusiasm. Thinks to her supple fingers, Juanita hadn't even noticed the circus had finished downstairs.

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She had noticed, though, that she could only fit one finger inside herself with comfort. Apparently two years of abstinence and clean, healthy living had caused her pussy to shrink. Maybe there was something to this abstinence thing after all, but that thought faded when her hips suddenly remembered how to buck against her invading finger. Before she knew it, Juanita's whole body shuddered with the first tremors of a mind warping orgasm, her first in two years.

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Two years of frustration, tears and redemption welled up in the pit of Juanita's stomach, sadistically fighting its way out of her body. Her fingers were a blur beneath the thin sheet. Had she been paying attention, she might have worried about starting a fire with the old thin cotton, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. All she saw was the black girl's pussy resting on her chin as she tried to steal licks of the Italian's cock when it entered the Nubian's dripping hole. The walls ripped from the room then and the universe flooded in, colors were audible and flavors visible.

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Juanita screamed, ashamed of her sins and felt dirty. She wept in frustration until the sleep had returned to her eyes. Her dreams were the dirtiest things a junkie hooker could dream. God smiled sadly as she slept her fitful sleep. With ‘His’ infinite compassion, he kissed another orgasm into her while she slept, amazed that humans were so blind as to believe in the words of preachers. Then ‘He’ replaced the ripped walls and put the colors and flavors back in order, until all was right with the world again.

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The End...