Hidden masturbate story

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As rats cavort on the road outside, 22-year-old Niken tells me that she came from the Indramayu village of Patrol when she was 19 at the suggestion of a friend. Her Mami encouraged her to borrow cash to help her sick father and pay the “other needs” of her family.
Niken has sex for just 120,000 to 150,000 rupiah ($12 to $15) and relies entirely on Mami to inform her when her loan is paid. The debt makes it virtually impossible for her to change pimps. “If the family needs more, I’ll have to borrow for that, too,” Niken says. As for condoms: “I always offer it, but only about half the clients want to use them. They say it doesn’t feel good. Two days ago I took tests and, thank God, I was still healthy.”
Her friend, Yuli, 20, offers discounts for men who are willing to use protection, but agrees to unprotected sex anyway: “What can I do? I need the money.”
Of everyone we meet we ask one question: why Indramayu? The first answer is typical of Indonesia, where supposed regional characteristics are typically blamed for problems rather than institutional failings. “It’s consumerism, it’s their culture,” says Syarifudin. “They want to show off and they don’t care where the money comes from.”
The girls themselves say it’s about the economy. But Indramayu is far from the poorest region in Indonesia, and education is comparably poor in many places.
What seems to set this place apart is its proximity to Jakarta and a well-established local culture of sex trafficking. The first girls, it’s said, left in the 1980s. When they returned to their villages for the annual Muslim homecoming, Idul Fitri, they were walking advertisements for the cash and glamour of professional sex. A network of pimps, channellers and loan sharks spread the word until sex for sale became an economic mainstay with very little stigma attached.
Now, many who left seeking glamour and pallor and wealth have already come home to die.
“You stop doing this either because you get married or you get sick,” says Sunenti, who has AIDS. “Others stop because they die. At least, that’s the story for many that I know.”
How To Hire A Hooker (Or Prostitute, Or Masseuse, Whatever)
Buying a hooker is tougher than you might think.
I know. I tried three times before I finally succeeded, and even that was kind of a fiasco. And one of those attempts wasn’t even for me .
You see, one night in a drunken state, my friends Ryan and Bryan suddenly revealed to me that they had this fantasy about double-dogging some bimbo together. This was a surprise, but the bigger surprise was that they wanted me to subsidize their fantasy – they wanted me to participate and triple -dog a prostitute with them. Considering that the two of them were built like scrawny chihuahuas with chronic bronchitis, the thought of the two of them attempting to mount a hooker brought to mind images of gang-rape by a bunch of wire hangers.
But it turned that they didn’t want me because I was a brawny he-man with a cock the size of a vodka bottle… it’s because they thought I had enough money to buy the call girl. I didn’t. However, they kept bugging me over and over again that I must have the money, they were so horny, they needed someone… so I offered to procure the prostitute for them as a compromise, saving them the trouble of actually finding one. I began to leaf through the local paper’s “hot massage” section.
It ended in disaster, of course. The first call ended abruptly when Ryan slapped the phone out of his hand. “Don’t use my name! ” he said hoarsely. The second time I used Bryan’s name…. and then Bryan panicked. I hung up. I might have had some success the third time using pseudonyms for the both of them, but then Ryan refused to give out his address, apparently not realizing that the prostitute wasn’t simply going to wander around the east side of town until he showed up.
The fourth time I called a transsexual and actually spoke to a real person, and could have actually hired him to satiate Ryan and Bryan’s feverish desires… but my tender conscience wouldn’t let me pull a Crying Game on these two bozos. Besides, Bryan was my ride home. We spen the rest of the evening ignoring the increasingly eager messages left by the transsexual, who was apparently having a bad night and looking to pick up some business.
But in that moment I realized that there was a gray area that’s not written about: How does one pick up a hooker? I mean, I’m all for women’s rights… but I know there’s a lot of guys that just aren’t getting any nookie without money or a hit album on their resume. Some guys have to pay for it. And so, in the spirit of commerce, I offer The Ferrett’s Tips For Picking Up Hookers.
You might think that the streetwalkers are the easiest to find – after all, they’re easy to find, they’re relatively anonymous, and they take cash.
Think again, my friend.
For one thing, spotting hookers is a lot tougher than it seems – well, in small towns, anyway. In New York and Las Vegas, it’s a bit different. In large cities, hookers flock together like those little birds that clean hippos’ teeth on the Serengeti. They’re happy to yell out en masse , calling out like squawking ravens – Blowjob! Blowjob! Blowjob! they cry, and it echoes throughout the streets, loud enough to wake apartment dwellers up out of a sound sleep, which is just one of those nice little touches that adds so much atmosphere to living in a big town.

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