An Ugly American Pt 01

I was 44 when my wife died and I was devastated. I thought I'd never find anyone like her again, so I didn't even try. Instead, I threw myself into my work.

My employer was a big conglomerate with business concerns all over the world. They were always looking for people they trusted to work overseas.

The company had made investments in Eastern Europe so that's where I went. Abandoned practically overnight by the communist government when the USSR fell, these economies had simply collapsed. My employer had spent a fortune buying up farms, mines, factories, and transportation hubs. All bought for fractions of what they were worth.

Great plan on paper but it hadn't worked out well. The whole project was swimming in red ink. I was sent to investigate and they listened when I found problems. People got fired. Whole factories got shut down sometimes - though I tried to avoid that. But I did what I had to do.

I was paid well for what I did. Obscenely well after a while. After a few years, what I made in an afternoon might feed and house a local family for months. The locals didn't have money though.

Things were so desperate that women resorted to prostitution. The only people that could afford their services were foreigners like me. I could afford the best and so that's what I bought. I'd see them on the street and just take them back to the hotel room and they didn't charge by the hour - they were there for the night. When I was done in the morning, I dumped them outside in the hall just like the room service dishes. it was really like that.

Management didn't care. I got confidential memos from lawyers advising me things that I shouldn't do. Minimum ages, sodomy laws, and such. They also sent a bodyguard who watched my back.

It was an extreme life. I could have anything I wanted, but the problem with excess is that it's never enough. Sex was like a drug -- and I was looking for a bigger better high all the time. I got into kinky stuff. Rough stuff. Orgy stuff. Sick stuff. After a while though, I was just tired of it. The thrill was gone.

I AM not looking for sympathy here. I'm just trying to tell it like it was. I lost all interest is sex for a while. And then one day sex got interesting again. I guess that's what this story is really about.

It started with Maja. She was a desk clerk at the hotel I had been living in for a few months. She wasn't a stunner, but she was attractive in her own way. She was friendly -- we talked every night for a few minutes before I went to my room -- and she was a real go-getter too. I was impressed with her brain as well as her ass.

She wasn't stupid and I knew she couldn't miss seeing the never-ending parade of women entering and leaving my suite. She was a professional, though, and tolerated such things because I was a big spender.

I was all platonic and I never even thought about anything becoming sexual there, but of course it did.

It was around dinner hour when I stopped at the desk on the way to my room. Someone had delivered paperwork. As Maja handed it over, she made a snide comment about the two girls who had made their way out that morning.

"Whores so old. You pay?" She looked incredulous at the prospect.

This was shocking behavior in a part of the world where corruption and organized crime was rampant. People generally ignored bad behavior as you did not want to be noticed by powerful people.

She had to know that she was risking her job just mentioning that I was paying for the pussy -- but she had my attention and she knew it, so she kept on.

"I have friend. Many pretty. Many desperate. Her family, their home it is burning to the ground this yesterday.... Perhaps you pay her your fun?"

Maja studied my face looking for a reaction. I didn't give her one. She kept on.

"Not every night sex like whores..." She spat on the floor in a sign of disrespect. No respect for the working girl from Maja I guess.

"Look picture, yes?"

I waited for her to say more but she was done. She held out the tattered photo.

I took a look. The girl in the picture was only slightly more attractive than the average girl on the street. I handed the photo back.

Maja stated a price. An outrageous demand of maybe an hour of my wages.

"Too much."

"She is for you.... All things."

I smiled at that. "You have no idea what that means."

"Maja work for party boss. Two years. Know." There was pain in her voice. I had heard stories.

"Your friend - does she know?"

Maja thought about this for a second -- perhaps just seeking to translate, then.

"Her husband is ass-hole. Brute. No surprise."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, but Maja's gaze held steady. "No surprise."

We stared into each other's eyes for a long-time and she did not blink. Finally, I did. A deal was struck without words. I gathered my papers and went to my room.

***

There was a rap at the door around 8 o'clock. The face in the peephole was the young friend from Maja's photo. She entered quickly lest she be seen in the hall.

She spoke no English but introduced herself with a single word. "Emma" -- a common enough name that fit her well.

Emma had the look of a shop girl and the blonde but almost silver hair that was characteristic of many younger women in this land. She was dressed in a peasant blouse and the local version of denim jeans with nondescript shoes that were mass produced in a local factory -- hardly a sexy outfit.

It was likely that she was fresh from work. She smelled vaguely of long hours, no air conditioning and, possibly, cheese.

I have a sense of people -- it was part of my job to understand the unsaid and recognize body language for those of foreign cultures. In a lot of ways it was easier as they didn't know how to hide their lies and deception.

There were layers there. Fear. Defiance. Also, just a bit of excitement and something almost bordering on anticipation. I liked what I saw.

My knowledge of Emma's language was limited to pleasantries and a few instructions I had picked up from the whores. Given that we wouldn't be holding a conversation anyway, I saw no reason to delay the evenings fun. I told her to remove her clothes.

Emma hesitated, but the blouse came off as soon as I removed a stack of cash from my desk drawer. More money than she had ever seen in one place. I could tell by her face.

By the time I had counted the negotiated amount, she was down to her underwear. I stopped her there as I wanted to take some time and enjoy the great unveiling.

I undressed and as I did, I stared at her with lust in my eyes. I wanted to make sure she understood that once we were started, there was no turning back. Dropping my underwear, i was surprised to find I was pretty hard. Usually my hired entertainment needed to provide more visual and often also oral encouragement to raise my erection.

I was at least 30 years older than her. I had been no Don Juan as a young man and had not gotten more distinguished with age. She tried to hide it well, but I know she found no big treats in what she saw.

I did not fault her for this. Looking back, if I were her, I think I would have been disgusted. She really was young and fresh while I was old and past my prime. She knew what came next and it would not be pretty.

I sensed some fear. Some regret as well. But soon enough - just a glimpse of some excitement. I realized she was looking at my cock.

I was circumcised -- which was very uncommon here. I am only average length downstairs, but I am thick and the head of my cock has a helmet that would make Darth Vader proud. Women have told me it's like fucking a fire plug - which I like to think is a compliment.

Knowing that she was studying it made me even harder. The sight of this frail young rabbit of a women clothed in her thin gray bra and panties checking out my dong made me hungry. I started to notice a different aroma from her direction - it smelled very edible but it wasn't cheese.

I reached for her and pulled her by the hand, which I put on my cock.

I slid my hands under bra. Not gracefully, I was paying a lot for these tits and I was used to getting to handle the merchandise I was paying for. Her firm small breasts felt almost virginal. Her nipples were also hard as a rock - which was a surprise and a thrill. I almost felt bad tweaking her nipples and squeezing them until it had to hurt.

Emma knew how to handle a man's penis -- and as I roamed her body with my hands, she set to work teasing me with a slow and tender rhythm. I took my time, taking care to not remove her underthings. I just enjoyed the bounty of what lay beneath. I felt like a young man again.

We played like that for just a few minutes. Fumbling and groping. Every teenage boy's backseat fantasy. Second base. Third base. When I slid my fingers into her the moisture seemed real.

When I could wait no longer, I pulled the bra over her head and slid her panties to the floor. I was rewarded with the view of a woman who was young and pretty but also just normal in just about everyway. No big tits. No shaved cunt. No high heels, No bright red lipstick, riding crop or 10" strap on dildo with glow-in-the dark rotating head.

Just a girl. And it was wonderful.

Her skin was very white. Her body had curves full and round, but not perfect. Her ass was just a bit too big - that happens when your diet is mostly potatoes - and her legs perhaps a bit thin. She also had a bush but was almost hairless -- not shaved nor trimmed -- just small and delicate. No shit - it really was like a flower.

Emma responded to my touch as if she actually wanted it. She seemed to enjoy stroking my cock -- I felt the heat rise in her as much as it did in me. It had been years since I had experienced a simple hand job. Maybe she also yearned for a tender touch.

I think we were both surprised when I began unloading into her fist. White fluid secreted from between her fingers and turned to spurts that painted her leg when she let go in surprise. I hadn't cum like that in years. I gasped and she giggled as it kept coming until I finally went so weak kneed that I almost collapsed.

I gained control of my senses. We were both a fucking mess but in a good way and I appreciated the optics.

But it went south fast as Emma had forgotten her role and her place. She kept giggling and there was a look on her face that could only be relief. That laugh had taken on a mocking tone.

It was -- at least in my mind -- as if she truly believed she had just delivered the world's most expensive hand job and that the evening would be done now. It was just disrespectful.

Had I been able to communicate with Emma, I would have told her that a prostitute should never ever mock a man openly while holding his penis. Not unless she has very specifically been instructed too anyway.

I couldn't tell her that. but I would make her understand. This bitch thought the evening was done, but the party hadn't even started. It was time to give Emma a taste of what I was really like.

(An ugly thought yes, but I was an ugly man. It was an ugly time.)

By now I had convinced myself that Emma was a shop girl and to get the job I am sure she had spread her legs and maybe more to get the job. Things were that corrupt and people were that desperate here.

Locals told me that most adult women had probably endured some sort of sexual abuse just to obtain bread or a paycheck during this desperate time. Women often made themselves available to me in the hope that it would save their job. (It did not.)

If she was going to be some shop owners slut for a paycheck I wouldn't wrap gum in, I was going to make her work for it. Seemed only fair.

I knew she was anticipating dirty sex. Maja had warned her, I was sure. But the reference for what made for dirty sex was different then. X-rated movies and porn on the internet had not yet made their way to this part of the world, and some of the things we take for granted had not made their way to this culture.

Sure, they had doggy and even anal, but I had learned in my time there that the local women -- even high-end prostitutes -- were quite squeamish about getting cum in their mouths. I had coated many faces but very few tonsils in my time in this country. It was a place to start.

I grabbed her hand -- filled as it was with my spunk - and forced it to her mouth. Then using my tongue, I gave an exaggerated pantomime of exactly what I expected to happen next.

Emma did a double-take and the expression said it all. I saw the first hint of hesitation and even a bit of resistance. Then she glanced at the money -- not yet in her pockets -- and she moved herself into position to obey.

Her tongue peeked out from between her lips. She looked into my eyes with a look of sheer humiliation as she slowly began to lick her fingers clean. Even today the memory makes me hard.

I watched her, and soon enough I realized she was simply pushing around the spew and not actually eating it. This angered me further. Rather than try to make her understand again I pulled her hand to my own mouth and licked a finger clean.

She was repulsed but also mesmerized. I think I blew her mind a little.

(I guess just to say it Dear Reader, Sherry had loved it when I performed clean-up duties during our marriage. She knew it kept me in my place and that I secretly enjoyed it. Don't knock it until you've tried it.)

Anyway, Emma got the message. There is no greater way of teaching than through leading by example. She went to work dutifully, and she found, as I had, that the texture and taste is not that different than that of spit and once you get past the source of it.

Soon enough she was done with her hand and dutifully licked from my fingers the cum that I scraped from her pretty leg. Seeing the approval in my eyes, she sat down on the nearby sofa. She leaned back as if exhausted.

"Now," her body language seemed to say. "Now you are surely going to let me go home."

Then she looked down and found that my watching her clean up my cum had me hard all over again.

I took Emma to bed after that, and slowly and methodically explored each of her entry points. With my fingers, my mouth and my cock. First her cunt, then the honey-hole. I was quite surprised that she took my cock both places with ease and only later realized she had probably lubed herself in preparation for the evening.

(Still though -- no shock. She could not have been a virgin back there.)

I was not sadistic -- at least not where sex was concerned -- but I did in my own way attempt to break her. I looked for hesitation. Humiliation. Submission. It felt necessary to get my money's worth.

I went at her for hours -- a stretch for a man my age and finished four times - twice directly down her throat. When it was done, I had taken all there was go give.

To her credit she did her best to please, and sometimes even pretended to enjoy it though I am sure she did not. The only time she did begin to cry was when I brought out a camera and began snapping photos as I pushed myself deep into her throat. She spit me out and in her own language begged me to put the camera away.

(I tried to tell her the photos were for me only and no one else would ever see them, but she did not understand me and was so insistent and annoying that I finally put the camera back into its case. More about those pictures later.)

When we were done, I made it known that she could dress and go, a kindness I did not offer to other paid girls as I enjoyed starting the day with a bang.

She realized what I was trying to do and for the first time rushed to the phone and called the front desk. She spoke for a few moments and then handed it to me.

"Emma stay." Maja stated simply. "She has no home and no safe to village now."

A woman roaming the city alone at night. Not a good idea I guess, and doubly so as she had a small fortune in her pocket. So, she slept on the couch -- fully clothed and with the money in her hands.

Because I trusted no one, I did as I always did and invited my bodyguard to watch over her as I slept. He seemed disappointed that she was dressed -- a first in all the times she had watched over on of my toys - and he her took her as he sometimes did others, I did not hear or see it. In the morning they were both gone.

I left the hotel for the hotel late that morning and Maja was off shift. That evening when I picked up my things from the counter, she nodded at my knowingly but we did not chat. We resumed conversations in the coming days. Nothing about Emma.

Then one night she smiled and said "I have friend" kicking off another adventure. It was a cycle that would repeat itself a few more times in the coming weeks.

And then the story changed again, which I will write about at another time.

End of part 1.