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There's a lot more to being a pimp than peddling pussy and roughing up deadbeat johns. Let me give you a for instance. This little piece of runaway poon comes into my "office" and says she wants to get into the business. Now I've seen my share of dynamite snatch, but this girl is fucking prime: can't be a day over 20, perfect skin, not-too-big tits, solid ass. You get the picture. Class. "Take off your clothes," I say, you know, because I always give new meat a full inspection. "Here?" I look at my watch to let her know time is money. So she's naked, and I wouldn't lie to you, but she's even better than I thought. Not a scratch on her. Virginal. Next thing I know, she's on her knees unzipping my fly, pulling my dork out, and I'm a fucking rock. So I fuck her throat and make her eat my milt, right? Am I right? Wrong. Wrong! You never get high on your own supply. Never. I take her hand and help her to her feet. "Thank you, that will be all," I say, turning my back and giving my ficus plant a couple of spritzes. I'm so mortified, I can't even bring myself to look at her. "You can see yourself out. We'll be in touch." Listen, there's nothing I'd like better than to bust one in her mouth, but rules are rules. I mean, I'm sure you'd love to get off vicariously on the big bad pimp's depraved, exploitative lifestyle, but the truth is a little more complicated than what you see at the local cineplex. No, I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but I just don't run that kind of "office."
Date Written: November 16, 2005
Average Vote: 4.65