HOW TO PICK-UP A PROSTITUTE WITHOUT ACTING LIKE A TV PREACHER

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

When it comes to picking-up prostitutes, you really need to be a pro.

Few fates are as obnoxious as being compared to a television evangelist, and nothing makes a gentleman look more uncouth than a lack of finesse in picking up a prostitute. What makes Rev. Jimmy Swaggart such a figure of ridicule is not the obvious hypocrisy, but an appalling lack of skill in purchasing the services of streetwalker. What makes a chap appear ungainly is not some misguided determination to remain righteous—as much as a certain lack of flourish in the act of giving way to temptation. If you are going to cruise the red light districts, you need to do your whore-mongering with flare. After all, you don’t want the poor girl to think that you were some sort of unseemly television preacher, now do you? Ministers have plenty of funds—and enough pharmaceuticals to keep it up—but the man of the cloth simply doesn’t have any idea how to properly behave with a fallen woman.

Take only enough money that you are going to spend that evening. Leave the credit cards elsewhere—and if you are dumb enough to keep your Social Security card in your wallet, you are too stupid to be reading this text. There are a couple other things you will want to have with you: condoms of course, some hand-sanitizing gel, and a plastic bag (more about this curious item in the paragraphs to come).

The selection of the right sex-worker is all part of the fun. Obviously you should reject any harlot with any open sores, or decline the services of any inebriated lady of the evening (you don’t want her to vomit at inconvenient moments or regurgitate upon a convenient appendage). Finding a prostitute with a good mental attitude is more important than selecting a female on the basis of physical allure. Paradoxically, if the hooker looks “too pretty,” if her earrings are “too pricey,” if her shoes are “too pointy,” if her clothes are “too pristine”—then she is probably a police decoy anyway. (Only someone pretending to be a prostitute dresses “like a prostitute.” Only in a cop’s mind do streetwalkers parade around in stilettos and animal-print skirts.) Look for something unexpected when it comes to sexual partners: the older the gal, the more experience she can bring to your penis. And trust me on this: you will probably have a more erotic encounter if you decide upon a somewhat less attractive women—believe you me, she will compensate in the copulation for any shortcomings in appearance.

A meth-using hooker isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I am not going to tell you that a prostitute’s drug habit will always be a detriment and a disadvantage: meth tends to produce the curious result of making the female more “focused” upon sex. If the women actually liked you, I would even say “horny” – but since the whore is just doing her job, meth makes her more determined. Other controlled substances, unfortunately, make the slut less willing to exert herself when you must want to exercise her pelvis.

Keep looking over your shoulder: scan for plainclothes policemen sneaking around in the neighborhood, and continue searching for a pimp slinking around nearby vehicle. Often it is nearly impossible to tell one of these parasites from the other—but in either case, their presence will prove financially and physically painful. The heightened awareness is like a sort of yogic exercise that will make the whole nocturnal adventure all that much more interesting. Whoremongering heightens all your senses.

If you are driving, ask the target woman if she “needs a ride”—a policewoman will never get into a strange vehicle. Then immediately get the fuck out of that neighborhood. Don’t go anywhere that the whore directs; you will always want to the surroundings to be of your own choosing—and free from law and pimp enforcement. Once the girl has entered your sphere of influence, do not allow third parties to intrude: allowing the prostitute to being “a friend” will only put you at their peril. Going to a hooker is all about maximizing control. Sexual release is more complete if you keep her under your thumb.

Negotiate price and sex acts before taking the prostitute to your accommodations. Make sure that you tell the girl exactly what you want her to do and exactly how you want her to do it: now is not the hour to be euphemistic and talk in vague generalities like “come back to my hotel with me.” Spell it out, and do not beat around the bush (unless, of course, you would like to pay extra to beat around the bush). If you, for instance, want her to lick your anus, make sure that she knows that you expect that particular service. Being overly tactful is only going to end-up leaving you unsatisfied. I don’t care how perverted your fantasies, she’s already done worse: any given whore will try anything if enough funding is offered.

NEVER pay the lady any money until the deed is done. If you have enough body-weight to do the bitch some serious damage should she go for the cash prematurely, show the prostitute the banknotes and then place the sum out of her reach (atop the television set, for example). If you have a more wimpy& liberal-democratic physique, then you shouldn’t be out on dangerous streets looking for dangerous women in the first place—you’re only going to get the hanging chad kicked out of you. If you want to tip the sex worker, then tell her exactly what she has to do to get the extra dollars (like “not rushing” or “swallowing”). Once everything is satisfactory and satisfied, pay the poor girl exactly what you promised. If you feel like cheating something, find a victim that deserves to be defrauded: like the government. If you unjustly antagonize the prostitute, she will remember your face and license plate—should police come questioning about “suspicious white males” after some well-publicized mass shooting in the metropolitan area.

You will want to see the woman’s identification card (whether she knows it or not). Write down the female’s name; this will not only help you compose an accurate diary entry later in the evening, but it will also avoid nasty surprises about the young lady’s age. It is always an advantage to know who the hell you’re really fucking.

Chances are that you will be taken-in by a transgendered hooker. I don’t care how much you claim to know women—at some point in your mongering career, you are going to pick-up a she-male whether you like it or not. You won’t be able to recognize a tranny on the street corner by an obvious Adam’s apple—nor are you going to be able to judge her suspicious hand size while driving past her. Your powers of observation simply aren’t as good as you imagine—otherwise, your perception that the tallest prostitute is conspicuously better dressed than her companions should have already suggested something unsettling. But since you didn’t make the recognition, you need to come to terms with the fact that you will be conned by a she-male unless you are crafty enough to check her ID. Aside from a lab test, scrutinizing the sex-worker’s identification is the simplest way of determining the original gender of that mouth upon your appendage. Just like every genuine woman, a transsexual is trying to put something over on you.

If you can get away with it, take the woman’s photo. If you ask for permission, she will object (or worse yet: demand more money)—so don’t let her know. If you should ever feel an inclination to track the lady down, you won’t be able to do anything with the phony name that she gave you. Keep in mind that whatever the prostitute tells you about herself will be contrived—however, once you have given it some thought, this fakery will be just as true in any “normal” relationship. The whore is really no more deceptive than any ordinary girlfriend—it is just that the slut’s motives are rather more obvious. Going to a prostitute helps to provide you with a more expansive view of the world; perhaps the greatest difference between a wife and a whore is that you can more easily see the larger picture with a hooker.

If English is not the working girl’s native tongue, understand that she did not learn the language in school—she was taught every word and each caress in the company of clients just like you. Reflect, for a moment, on the sheer number of customers it would have taken for such proficiency—then go do what you came to do.

Never bring a slut back to your own residence; always do your copulation in rented accommodations. If a hooker knows where you live, then she will be pounding on the door whenever she needs money. The last thing you want is an uninvited female on your doorstep. The less she knows about you, the less she can use against you. Always keep your personal life hidden from a “public woman.”

Check the accommodations for hidden cameras. Once you get a hotel room, check the room for peepholes. Human beings are lazy: chances are any miniature video camera would be concealed in a manufactured object like a clock or smoke director, so examine those items before you remove your clothes. If there is a mirror strategically positioned by the bed, you should make sure that it is not a one-way glass (if you place your finger directly on the surface of a genuine mirror, there should be a gap between your digit and the reflection). 

Do not have sex on the bedspread; that rented object is invariably saturated with the body fluids of dozens of other couples. Turn down the bed: while the sheets might not be all that clean, they are, at a minimum, washed somewhat more frequently than the comforter. You have got to suspect that the previous lodger must have done exactly the same fornication right where you are going to be lying. Copulation might be a biological necessity—but it is still a nauseating business.

Don’t give the hotel staff any incentive to take an interest in your carnal activities. Don’t get drunk in the room, and keep the noise level to what a churchgoer would consider respectable. You want to be just another anonymous wayfarer. The more experienced the whoremonger, the sooner his presence is forgotten.

Never leave any DNA in the motel room. Make sure that you either flush the condom down the toilet or take the used-prophylactic with you when you leave (yuck, but this is where that plastic bag of yours really proves really, really useful). If you are mongering in an unfamiliar country, make sure that the damn lavatory flushes before you drop that offending condom. You will also want to take that discarded condom wrapper with you—although you will not be able to entirely eliminate your traces from the motel room without making the girl unnecessarily suspicious, you will remove the easiest means by which that a corrupt cop would obtain your fingerprints. While it is very unlikely that the prostitute might charge you with rape (more common from your girlfriend than from a consummate professional)—a remote possibility is still a possibility, so don’t make it easy for the bastards.

Never accept any drugs or drinks from a prostitute that you have just met. Believe it or not, in more congenial countries where women are trained to be more courteous, you might actually be offered food or liquor by the slut. But she isn’t being generous; she’s feeding you an appetizer in order to get something out of you (whether you are conscious or not). In certain parts of the world where incapacitating & undetectable drugs are a worry, you have to be concerned about having your wallet or kidney stolen. In other areas of the globe, you need to be rather more concerned about hygiene. Don’t accept anything; you need to be doing all the offering.

You will remain safest if you never ever allow an unknown woman to spend the entire night with you. When you close your eyes, you should always dream alone. Falling asleep beside a woman is a security risk in times of social decay. Even more than performing a particular sex act, the distinction between a girlfriend and a whore is that you are paying for the professional to leave once you have completed your business. Never get too comfortable any female who would agree to have sexual relations with the likes of you: a snoozing John is a walletless John.

Don’t, for a second, think that the prostitute has any liking for you as a person: no matter how much you might joke, you are not funny and you are, most certainly, not fun in bed. She has nothing in common with you, sir. The only thing a working girl feels for you is repugnance—and don’t you forget it, my friend. You are nothing but an oozing billfold. Whore-mongering will always leave you rather cynical about women (and it is a good cynical)—but paying for sex should also force you to appreciate just how worthless you truly are (and it is a damn good apprehension).

Prostitution is the most honest form of human interaction—genuine because it is devoid of emotional contamination. Two human beings engage and indulge into the most erotic activity possible—but feel absolutely nothing for each other once the fluids have been released. A customer can be more passionate and intense with an unfamiliar professional than he can with his own wife—but once the rapture has ended, the paid and paying partners go their separate ways. Fucking a whore can be far more intense than sex with a wife—because purchaser and provider care nothing for each other. Prostitution is the loneliest act that two people can do together—lonesome precisely because it is also the most intimate. The closer two people get, the more the solitude between them.

You will probably forget the copulation as soon as you rinse off, but what you will retain is a deep paranoia about basic human interactions: I just don’t mean a fear of having your assets stolen by the working girl, but a profound difference in the way that you perceive all social institutions. Just as once you have first-hand experience of being shaken down by the police, you will never trust authority again. And mistrust is always a good thing: if you feel a sense of foreboding about one area of life, it carries over into other realms. After a close encounter of the latex kind with a prostitute, you will begin to become suspicious of your own spouse—and if nothing else, that will certainly make your marital relationship more interesting. Whore-mongering causes you to doubt everything. Once you have left the Red Light District, you never fully trust anyone again.

I would suggest that you keep of sort of magical diary of your copulations. I don’t just encourage that you create a record of carnal acts that might be employed in future masturbation, but a detailed description of how sex with the prostitution came to alter your very awareness of daily life. I want you to see that going to a whore is exactly the same kind of act as it was for your primordial ancestors: a sacred rite. Sex with the temple prostitute was always something done to bring the Old Gods into your daily life.

The more you ejaculate, the less faith you will have in the honesty of women. Nothing intimidates a feminist more than when a boyfriend insists that “all women are whores”—insults that always work because, deep down, the females know that it is true. When two public-spirited women talk among themselves, they do not boast about how kind and caring are their husbands—no, it is all about how much money the gentleman makes or the value of the jewelry they were last given. Every do-gooder girlfriend has already given you a rating based upon perceived income—so it is only just and proper that these gentlewomen be recognized as the tramps that they truly are. Liberal women are never interested in a man’s wealth of knowledge—when they can cram some of his net worth into their orifices.

The more whores you fuck, the less you will trust women. The more sluts that have been on your penis, the more paranoid you are going to be around the opposite sex. What is most important about the act of prostitution is not the sex itself, but the way that whore- mongering alters a man’s worldview. Paid fornication changes your very awareness.