As Tito and Sam perambulated, Sam felt nauseated by the lingering taste of the Chula’s private part, so he began spitting on the ground. “Yo’, you alright man?” worried Tito asked.
    “I don’t know man, maybe.” Sam replied dubiously. “I feel a bit strange. I went down-town on a chick today, and that’s my second time doing that. Do you think I was wrong?”
    Tito cackled briefly and said, “My man, take my word, you’re gonna’ have to do a whole lot more of that if you wanna’ be successful with the chicks. That’s what they like…that’s why many of them become lesbians. A lot of guys lose their chicks because they don’t wanna’ do that for them. I’m a gigolo, and I’ma’ tell you this; whatever a chick wants you to do for her and you refuse, she’s gonna’ look for somebody who will do it for her.”
    Sam thought about the matter for a moment and realized there was truth in Tito’s statement. A lot of men are passive, egocentric, selfish and conceited. If such men are not careful, their haughtiness can cause their cup to run over and launch their ego–sending them on an ego trip. Then, they become the center of the world and full of themselves. And whenever it comes down to cording and intimacy, their sensuous desires has to be addressed, while they ignore the woman’s desires. Such fools become oblivious of the fact that women are different from men. They fail to realize that women are more sensitive and emotional, and that when it comes down to sensuous pleasure the woman needs to be paid a little more attention. In a rational perspective, it is a man’s duty to find out what a woman’s desires are, so that he can do his best to fulfill them. If not, the day will come when that man will be forced to acknowledge a stark truth: That whatever desires a man refuses to fulfill for his woman, she’s going to look for someone else who will fulfill them for her.
    When Sam pleasured the Chula with his mouth, she was in cloud nine. It seemed his mouth job outweighed his tool job. And when all was said and done, she was satisfied, and he was left to feel disgusted. That was the second time he went down-town on a female, and the first time was not freewill: He was nine years old, and she was a very tall middle-aged woman, only a fraction under six feet. She shared a rat-infested apartment with his mother, and helped out with the chores and paying the bills. The incident happened one evening when Sam’s mother was out working. She grabbed Sam’s hand and led him inside her room and shut the door. She commanded Sam to stay put as she doffed her clothes. There was confusion in Sam’s eyes when he noticed her stark naked flesh. Moments afterward, she began pleasuring herself with her fingers and making alien hissing sounds. After nearly ten minutes of doing that, she jerked herself up and grabbed Sam’s hands and, placing ‘em on her breasts, she began fondling herself by moving them in a twirling manner. Sam was dumbfounded. The freakishly odd woman was using him as her fetish.
    When the fondling seemed vain, she reached for a vanilla-flavored whip-cream bottle that was sitting on top of a cabinet nearby. And once she had a hold of it, she sprayed a little on her crotch, and after spreading her legs wide apart, she grabbed Sam’s head and proceeded to shove his face on her hairy private part. “Manje!…manje!” she commanded over and over. That’s french for: “Eat!…eat!” Sam obeyed the amazon and began eating her. He so wanted this ordeal to be over with that he exercised swift motion. She writhed and moaned in sensual pleasure. Then, as she got set to reach her climax, Sam noticed her chest rose and fell; her body shuddered briskly, and forth came a gush of slimy, watery liquid. She discharged on Sam’s face, and left Sam stupefied.
    Sam’s fuss now isn’t so much about his action with the Chula, but about the price he had to pay. It was quite costly and foolish for a financially unstable guy to pay for sex. Sam don’t recall ever having to pay for sex. If anything, it was the other way around–he was the one being paid. Sam, however, acknowledge spending a few bucks every now and then in strip clubs and bars, but those bucks didn’t really count. They were fast money made via criminal activity, so they didn’t really mean much. Unlike this money, which did mean something, because it was hard earned. As Sam struggled to make sense of the matter, he arrived at a conclusion. He realized that his foolish act of paying for something I could barely afford was unpardonable. And having thought that, he said to himself that it will be a snowy day in hell before he’ll allow another harlot to play him out of pocket. That’s a mistake he could do without.