 |
||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Fucks! by Quentin Beck 03/02/2007, 11:29pm PST | ||||
 |
 |
|||
| Actually, I fucked in Delhi, about 14 hours from Varanasi. She was a chubby 23 year old indian virgin looking for a job as an airhostess. For domestic Indian airlines, it is known that when you reach the second stage of the interview process, you get the option of fucking the guy interviewing you, or paying him 3 lahk (sp?) which is 300,000 rupee, which is I think about $US6000. That's fucking huge! I never gave that figure much thought until just now. If you're wondering what effect this has on the quality of airhostesses in India, in my experience, it makes them all ugly as sin. Only the very desperate put themselves through that shit. Anyone good looking enough can easily find a husband who'll send her all over the world.
It would take her two years work to pay off that kickback. She was taking that route because it was her dream and because (supposedly) if it became known she got in by fucking a guy, the fucks would never end. I guess anyone in a high enough administrative role could ask for one (a fuck). I would ask for one if I were Mr such and such. I recommended she fuck the guy if he was young enough and discreet about it, but her English was shit (or my reasoning didn't appeal) and she was offended. She met me at an internet cafe and was afraid to approach me. But, India has a policy requiring you to fill a log book with important personal details before using an internet cafe. The details include a list of websites you expect to visit (!) (most people left this blank, but occasionally I used it as a way of showing off my webtaste to other foreigners. www.caltrops.com exists in several dusty Delhi net logbooks, but I never underlined it. You don't mean that much to me). She got my cellphone number from this book. The fucks were of poor quality partly because they happened at her house, partly because she was a virgin (and so was her flatmate), and mostly because she stunk. We took what she called a matress and lay it on the kitchen floor. Her roommate would get glasses of water from the bathroom every so often so she had an excuse to peak at us, but I would stop and cover ourselves when I heard the door open. Indians use a mug full of water to clean their ass after shitting. It cleans their ass enough for THEM. I imagine there are Indians whose asses don't smell of shit (maybe they use two mugs of hot soapy water), but I didn't get close enough to any of them to prove it. This girl's ass always smelt of shit, and when the juices of her cunt met the shit around her ass, I would have to bite my lip. I'd get that concoction on my hands, and then forget about it for a second and scratch my face, and before long this stink was a part of me until I could 'shower' it off with a bucket full of cold salty water. She also smelt of B.O. I fucked her three times, but when it became clear things wouldn't improve, I started turning down fucks and that really hurt her confidence (and, surprisingly, boosted mine!). I hated her accent, the color of the skin on her back, and the size (and hairs) of her ass. |
||||
 |
 |
|||
|
I hope China's markets fucking crash below ground by 02/28/2007, 2:22am PST  First, hope to be better educated. Then hope your dad doesn't hang himself NT by 02/28/2007, 2:45am PST bullshit, quit enabling china for cheap manufactured crap NT by 02/28/2007, 2:50am PST it's like quitting your smoking habit except more important NT by 02/28/2007, 2:51am PST yeah, their rivers that reek of dead carcuses only hurt china in the long run NT by 02/28/2007, 2:53am PST India has the river of corpses. I had sex near it. Press me for details. NT by 02/28/2007, 11:21pm PST I've been fucked by enough indians that I'd love to hear about you fucking them NT by 03/01/2007, 12:50am PST Where did you bathe? NT by 03/01/2007, 8:54am PST Fucks! by 03/02/2007, 11:29pm PST |
