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Korean Sex For Sale

“Why you no fuck me, baby? You here every night. I see you, but you no fuck girl. Maybe look for boy. No boy here!”

Never had a whore insult me like that before, but she was right. No, we weren’t looking for “boy”, but this was the fourth consecutive night we had marched up that damnable “Hooker Hill” in Seoul, South Korea in search of stress-free prostitution.

But getting whore action in SK isn’t like any other place in the world. It’s just so fucking complicated:
1) The Koreans do not acknowledge the existence of prostitution.
2) Even if they did, which they don’t, they don’t allow the foreigners getting their goddamned paws on them.
3) If they do decide to fuck an American he better be a serviceman because they have money to burn and are steady customers, who, for the most part, behave themselves. They also have discount prices for our boys in uniform so they don’t have to worry about getting ripped off.
4) In the event that these whores deem the civilians worthy enough for a poke though, they’ll charge a king’s ransom.
5) And, even then, you still have to watch for the scams, the robberies, and any other bullshit that involve third parties, arrangements, and, god forbid, actual “dates”.

Surely an irresistible prospect

In any regard, after the boozing, attending the nearby World Cup matches, the touring, something was missing. Most say their trek would be remiss without seeing that certain thing people have on a list, but my deal is simple: after I’m done with all that other perfunctory bullshit, I must sample the local whores.

But money’s tight on this backpack; we’re constantly on the cheap for rooms, transportation, alcohol, food, and Cup festivals. However, you always set aside a little something extra for whoring.

I put $200. Now, that should’ve been enough for three girls while in Korea judging by the fucked up information I got off The Net. We’d been in Seoul for a week already, time to pick up stakes and follow the U.S. team south.

Every night the street parties, the millions gathered to watch matches on jumbo TVs plastered on the sides of buildings, the obscene amounts of booze, getting back to the room at 8am, the traffic, the stifling heat, army patrols, the very real threat of terrorism, the hysterical madness of it all…

But four fucking nights and I hadn’t even tried. I felt like an amateur. Why though? Losing my edge? My patience? My interest? Too self-constricting with the budget? This was my first time in Asia, truly a different beast. This wasn’t Pot-Head-Friendly-Amsterdam.

But then again, that whore was right. Time for action…

We set off, each determined to get some. My buddy, Joey, took the high road, I took the low. We were to meet later in front of “Gecko’s”, an American sports bar; and, now, come to think of it, a hell of a terrorist target because of all of us drunks and the soldiers that hung out there.

I had seen this young girl the past week while I hiked the hill. She would always sweetly smile, but was never as aggressive as the other pigs that lounged about their doorways.

To me, loud, vulgar, and annoying does not make a great fuck. Whenever a whore asks, “How do you like it?” I say, “Quiet.”

This girl, young-my God so fucking young-seemed shy. Almost. After all, she is selling her cunt for sex, but damn if she wasn’t hypnotic. Unaware/deftly aware of her own sensuality.

She’ll do.

I breeze by the yammering sirens.

“Hiya, big man! You want to come for me?” she giggles as she says this.
“Sure,” I say and fondle her small, tight ass, and then the two us stroll into her shop, as would familiar, yet, debauched lovers into the bedroom.

But this ain’t no bedroom. A nicely stocked bar to the right. Nobody tending.

To the left, a row of “VIP” booths with saloon doors for privacy.

Nine Inch Nails blaring pleasantly in the background.

Dim lighting but not dark. Some places you can’t see your dick in front of you.

We take a seat and she knows her shit because she’s snuggling her crotch along my thigh and lets her hands rest on top of my lap. Not touching, merely resting, but the sense of it is arousing enough.

I put my arm around her shoulder and knead her tits generously.

She lets one of her dress straps fall off her shoulders and exposes a tender, ample breast with a thick, brown nipple, about half an inch long. “You need to buy drink to sit with me.” Her English is damn passable, which isn’t surprising. The U.S. Army base is up Itawaen Boulevard one street over.

“How much?” At this point a drink sounds reasonable since she didn’t ask for a cover.

I’ll spare you the Korean Won v U.S. Dollar exchange rate and just say what it was:
“Twenty dollars,” she says.

“Twenty dollars? Jesus, that’s steep, isn’t?”

“Well, if you no want…”

“Fine, fine. Here you go.” I take out the ready-cash. This for cover, that for a drink, this for sex. It’s separated into different pockets for security purposes. If a “bad” whore sees which pocket you’re taking your money from, then she might decide to go rooting through it later when your face is buried in her snatch. She’s a whore, not Mother Teresa…

But Christ, twenty bucks for a drink. It’s already getting way too goddamn pricey and we haven’t even gotten to the sex yet. If a drink cost that much, then how much is it for a fuck?

“Beer ok? You like Cass or OB?”

“OB, please. If I have to pay twenty dollars for a beer it might as well have six percent alcohol.”

“You funny boy,” she kissed me on the nose, and left.

Yeah, I so funny.

And hard.

She came back with a cold, litter-sized bottle of OB. Her dress strap was in place and she sat not on my face but a good six inches from me, back straight, hands folded in her own lap. Ready for the pitch:

“Ok, baby. I like you. I think you like me. We go upstairs and make love. Two hundred dollars. You can do whatever you want to me. Fuck me in pussy, fuck me in mouth, fuck me in ass. You can pee on me. I can pee for you, but not on you. We do whatever for one hour.”

She can pee for me, but not on me? Did she just say that? I guess everybody has their standards.

“Two hundred dollars, plus tip. For extra-extra tip you can hurt me.”

She had to have seen the exasperation in my eyes. Two hundred fucking dollars? You gottta be nuts! That’s supposed to go for three women. I heard from one of the service boys at Gecko’s that you could get a fuck & suck for $60. But, that was a Joe.

In Amsterdam it’s less than $40. Prague value brothels you get a quality woman, a shower before and after, and a hotel-like suite for an hour at $60. Tijuana you can talk her down to $40. Costa Rica is an $11 bargain if you know where to go. But two hundred-goddamned-dollars. Fuck, lady, this isn’t the back room of a Los Angeles County strip club.

“OK, I see is too much but I cannot lower price for upstairs. We can put on credit card if you no cash. No worry, I give you receipt. Everything ok-ok.”

“Umm, well, what can we do here?”

“Blow job.”

“Really? How much is that?”

“I get naked for you. You take out dick, I suck good, you can come my mouth, no problem.”

“How much?”

“One hundred dollar.”
“A hundred for a blow job? This ain’t Vegas, honey, you can’t charge that much for BJ, you’ll go broke.”

“Always money. Come on, only a hundred more and we make love.”

She scooted close again, sensing my apprehension. The strap fell off. I got so hard. I was so fucking horny. I needed sex; any kind of sex was better than none. It was such a primal need; such a lonely, physical need, like a baby needing not only milk, but milk straight from his mother’s tit.

“I could go for the blow job.”

“Yeah, yeah. I suck good. You see. I take off clothes. You touch me and I suck balls and dick and…”

“But a hundred. No way.” The Koreans love to haggle, so why not? “How about fifty?”

“What? No, baby, I need money. I only get 25% of money for my sex. It has to be hundred so I get twenty-five dollar.” She started massaging my cock through my pants.

“That’s terrible, I’m sorry…so how about sixty?”



“Eighty. That’s it. Come on baby, I feel you dick so hard, so much to be my mouth.” Fondling her tits, licking her lips, her face getting closer and closer to my crotch.

“OK. Let’s do it.”

She popped up, hand out. Smile beaming. “I be back. I pay office.”

Shit, here it comes. “Where?”

“Behind bar. No worry, baby. I be back. Take off pants for me. Take out big dick for me to suck.”

She left with my $80. Add the first $20 for the beer and I was already down $100 and so far only a peek at one tit.

I hate them for this…

And I wasn’t going to drop-trou until she came back and was ready to party. A friend of mine in L.A. had this whore once who told him to get undressed and get on the bed while she left the room to pay her boss. He sat there, fully clothed, waiting and waiting, wondering what was taking so long. He freaked out finally, and decided to leave.

He left the door open and trotted down the stairs in the motel they were at. As he reached the bottom of the steps, he was brushed back by a large black man, bulging muscles, looking none to friendly, and he was carrying a pipe.

My friend watched him trudge up the steps and make a turn into the room he had just left. He almost vomited, he said, then, ran for his life.

I didn’t have to wait long for my honey though. I was ready to bolt and ram my head into somebody’s gut and keep running until I felt fresh air if need be.

She stepped into the booth, slipped off the dress, and stood before me: shaved pussy, clit pierced and protruding, nipples hard, smooth skin and flat tummy, smiling the smile that snagged me. “You dick no out. Me help.”

She got on her knees between my legs and undid my walking shorts as I unbuttoned my shirt. I wasn’t wearing underwear. A raging hard-on popped free. She took me in her hand, looked up and said, “Welcome to Korea sex booth. Please to have good time. Thank you,” and then went to work.

And she performed like a champ. Nothing elaborate, just pride in a job well done. She sucked long and true, straightening me out and getting me harder than I thought possible. She moaned and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. Well, at least that’s the show she put on. But fuck it, I wasn’t paying for sincerity.

She cupped my balls firmly while taking me deep into her throat, sucking and slurping, my pre-cum pasting her lips and face, and she must have been going at it for a few minutes but I wasn’t anywhere near coming.

I reached down to twist her nipples; I reached around to insert my finger in her ass, but nothing. I knew she was sucking on me, a fantastic blow job, but goddamn if I couldn’t cum.

She came up for air, stroking my cock in slow strokes. “What wrong, baby, I no suck good dick?”

“Oh God yes, you’re the best, honey.”

She seemed relieved at that, then, “Let me sit with you. You suck my tits and I jack you off. I no do this for others, but I want you to come for me. I like you, I want to eat your cum.”

“How sweet,” I said. “Get up here.” She did.

I attacked her. Drooling onto her tits, sucking her nipples, squeezing, groping, sloppily, hungrily, desperately; biting her neck, tonguing her ear, tweaking her clit ring, sticking fingers in her snatch, her ass. She was breathing heavy, me too, and she whispered, “How…old…you think me?”


“How old you think me?”

“I don’t know…twenty-one.”

She giggled into my neck, licked me, and stroked faster. “I turn eighteen yesterday, baby.”

Cool. Should that surprise me though?  Fuck, you kidding? I had them younger in Amsterdam. Hell, I had one Thai chick that was 16. But that’s the consensual age in most countries out of the states. England it’s 16, I think. Czech Republic it’s 15, I know. But they don’t look that young, of course. They can all pass for 18. This is all out of the states, mind you.

“You have to be eighteen for doing this here,” she breathed. “I need money.”

“No problem, baby,” and I continued to ravage her.

I know what you’re thinking.

A whore says things like that you get you off, but she already knew I was going to drop a load. I was thrusting, rocking, squealing like a stuck pig. “You so hard for me,” she said.

“I’m going to come,” I replied.

She leaped out of my arms, dropped to her knees, and stuck my cock in her mouth and I unloaded a barrage of cum. I kept coming, and coming, and she kept pumping and pumping me into her mouth, she didn’t care how long I took; she was game all right.
I shook all over and yelped and ejaculated what I thought was the last spurt, then felt another grumble in the pipes and she was wonderfully patient and I got to thrust into her face one last time. Drained…Finally.

Slowly she released herself, turned away, then bent over, picking up her dress in a deliberate manner and stepped into it. I looked down at my cock, still hard, dripping, and then she was waving a tissue in front of my face. I took it to wipe.

She patted me on the shoulder and I looked up and noticed that her cheeks had puffed out, like a squirrel stashing away nuts for the winter. Good God. She looked so cute like that. She indicated with her head that she was going to go somewhere and with her hands told me to wait.

I nodded; sure, go ahead. I let my head bang against the wall behind me. I couldn’t stop grinning. What a blow. Jesus-fucking-Christ. Best come I had all year that’s for damn sure.

Hey, wait a minute! Where was she going with my spunk?

I sat with my cock hanging out of my pants. I stopped wiping. Fuck it. Let her do it when she gets back.

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