College Hooking Memories Ch. 01

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Lost in the Flood

Outside the building, the afternoon sun was shining in my face, and students were entering and leaving through the 135th Street gate. It was just another day at a big university.

Only I knew about the sordid act of prostitution -- because that's what it was even though we had never touched -- that had just taken place inside. I was having those familiar post-trick sensations going through me. Don't think that hookers can be entirely detached from feelings about what they do. As hard as I tried, I couldn't associate myself entirely from the actions I participated in.

Physically, it felt like my body was vibrating. In my mind, at the highest level, I felt bravado about taking that guy's money in exchange for so little. Nora, you are so clever to take advantage of these hapless johns. They're just wasting their resources in their quest for a sexual release.

But that was just a cover for the shame I was experiencing, the feeling of disgust about myself that I was trying to push back into my psyche.

Also, as happened about a quarter of the time after turning a trick, I felt sexually jazzed. It had nothing to do with that poor loser back there in the library, but rather it was caused by fantasies about my own sexual power. The mere sight of my pussy had brought him to a powerful climax in just a few minutes.

I had to satisfy myself immediately, and thus I went back to Wagner Hall and up to the third-floor ladies' room. In the last stall away from the door, I sat down and took out the dildo I had bought about two weeks earlier.

As I was having my way with myself, another girl came in and sat a few doors down from me. I didn't care that she might have heard my soft moans, and I guess she didn't care either. She tinkled in the bowl, washed her hands, and left.

After that, I was whispering to myself, you're such a bad girl Nora, you're dirty, you're a filthy whore, and that brought me to an intense orgasm. Then I did it all over again.

When I was done, like Kevin, I sat back and let my arms dangle. Maybe I felt a twinge of sympathy for him after all. We're both lost in the flood, as per that song released earlier in the year.

The gray metal walls of the stall were around me, and I had no one to talk to, no one to explain myself to. I decided to treat myself and use some of that john's money for a livery car ride back to Queens. That was much better than taking two subway trains and a bus. I would be hailing more and more cabs as the months went by.

As the car crossed the Triborough Bridge, I couldn't bear to look at the city to my right so I stared out the front. Eight million stories there, twenty million in the metro area; I'm trapped in this enormous place.

In my depression, I wondered would be like to be an Amish girl out in Pennsylvania, although that was no bed of roses either. Did they get spanked by their fathers and then their husbands? It was just a fantasy anyway; I didn't belong on a farm. I was a city girl, and I'd have to figure out my life in New York, not somewhere else.

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