Prowling Through a Whore House

PROWLING THROUGH A WHORE HOUSE Alone, in heat, I prowled my whore house, scanned the faces of the ever-willing ones awaiting for my picking. “Heck, no! I’ve had them all,” I said. “Have even come for some of them again and yet again for want of something new.” Off to another whore house then to prowl, and trawl, then found a plump one, thin one, and another in between, paid price for take-home beauties, “Hah! Monogamy go hang!” I said. An orgy dreamed and hungered for, the licking, ravishing, caressing through a dark night, senses-lit and straight up till late morning, heavy-lidded, sheets in disarray, weary, after all assumed positions still not wanting to let go first wanton beauty in my arms. Ah! Two more books to go!