Stories from the Road: The $40 Pay for Play Girl Treated Me Better Than American Women I’ve Had Relationships With

The Zona de Tolerancia in Reynosa, Tamaulipas. It costs roughly $2 to enter the compound. Part of the strip club Lipstick is visible on the left

It’s no secret American women treat men like garbage. I’ve had a few pretty good American girlfriends here and there, but by and large I knew I was nothing more than a disposable utility or a passing infatuation with almost all of them. I knew any LTRs would risk my finances, freedom, and sanity.

As a social observer who watches single mommery become the norm on social media and in cities nationwide (i.e. once the sperm is extracted from the father and he’s disposed of and cast into state slavery, mom hops back on the cock carousel) I know my experience with predatory females is far from unusual. American women use men financially, then kick them to the curb.

Putting that background aside, about how frankly, shitty American woman are, prancing around as if they’re god almighty, any sex appeal they might have had concealed under layers of blubber, hair dye, and bitchiness, let’s move to a recent experience I had at one of the Zonas de Tolerancia in Mexico. These are areas of legal prostitution in many Mexican cities, representing the polar opposite of the shame sex creates in Anglo America.

I found myself on the Mexico border recently, with a trailer dropoff at a border town. Of course, crossing over for some tacos (in more ways than one) naturally was on my mind. So, I rent a car, drive to the Puente Internacional (International Bridge) and walk across. One of the nice things about crossing into Mexico is there’s no police state badgering a man when crossing Mexican customs. Sure, they’re there, but 9 times out of 10 a man just walks on through with narry a question about his activities. Someone with a libertarian bent, like me, loves that experience.

I walk out of customs, wave for a taxi, and negotiate a price of $20 for the cabby to take me to the Zona, drive me by the rooms where scantily clad girls stand outside, let me pick out one, and wait on me while I bang her. (Sometimes I get the taxi drivers to drop me off, but I decided just to do a hit and run this particular day.) As we pull out, I move to put on my seatbelt and the driver asks me what I’m doing. Suddenly, it occurs to me I don’t have to put on a seatbelt here. “Fuck it. I’ll leave it off,” I think.

We arrive, I pay the $2 to the police to enter the compound. (Yes, you pay police to enter a zone replete with brothels, strip clubs, dive bars, and freelance whores. Pay for play, is of course, illegal in the Land of Prohibitions, America.) We drive around the entire compound. It’s about 7 p.m. so even though it’s Friday night there are only a handful of putas on duty. In our first circle, none of them really caught my eye.

Thinking I’m another weak American, the taxi driver starts instructing me on what to do, in Spanish. “Stop and get a beer.” Of course, he invites himself to a beer with me. I flat out tell him no. Not because I don’t want to buy him a beer, I know he’s just testing to see if he can push me around. So, I tell him to drive around the compound again, and suddenly, a flaquita morena catches my eye. (She was a thin, tan skinned girl.) She had beautiful, flowing black hair, a very nice body with perky tits, and was wearing a revealing but classy black dress. She stood out over the other girls. Indeed, a man can truly find some diamonds in the rough in the zonas once in a while.

We negotiate a price, she asks for $40 for complete service. We go in her room, she closes the door, and we start talking. After bullshitting for a few minutes, I find out she’s 21 and lives nearby. She gives me the look that she’s ready, so I take off my clothes and she takes off hers. The light bulb in her room was out, but since it was daytime there were still some rays of light peeking into the room. Once my eyes adjusted I gazed upon a chick that looked stunning naked. Especially compared to the fatties I see in my trips around America, and what they must look like with their clothes off.

She had it all. Perky tits. Tan and supple nipples. Nice legs. Nice hips. Nice, taut little behind. After drinking that scene in, we proceed do the deed. She didn’t rush me. This flaquita morena actually made love to me rather than just fucking me. The whole experience actually got quite intense as I started pumping her pretty hard. I could tell she loved that. I knew afterwards I would remember this girl long after this day. For there’s nothing quite like being treated like a man when you come from a culture that hates men and hates sex.

We talk a few more minutes in Spanish, and I learn this girl is actually studying. They all say they are, but she has books in her room with her. I pay her more than what she was asking for, and get her number before I leave. This girl might be selling it, but she made me feel better inside than most American women I’ve dated because she respected me.

That’s why I monger in the zonas once in a while. Not only is sex a human psychological need as detailed in Maslow’s hierarchy, but it’s nice to be treated like a human being by a woman and not a walking, talking cash machine. I gotta tell you, mutual respect is where it’s at. Life is stranger than fiction sometimes, in that a $40 whore can make a man feel more complete than a woman he’s invested thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars in.

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