	International Cowgirl
	=====================

If your intention was to escape the roar of the crowd packed 
into the giant stadium, the best place to be probably wasn't the 
changing rooms. But this was the only place Lulu knew where 
she could find any degree of privacy. Of course, she wasn't the 
only one collapsed head-down on a wooden bench, her arms 
draped over her knees and hands dangling loosely down. 
Women from events other than hers were slumped in a similar 
state of post-performance blues. Unsurprisingly it was those 
not celebrating victory who had chosen to hide away for as 
long as they could from the cameras, the crowds and the all-
too-apparent disappointment of the nation they represented 
and its media.

Even if Lulu had done better than she had, perhaps qualifying 
for the next and final round, she knew that at the end of it she 
would still feel a huge weight lift off her that would leave her 
with a correspondingly huge void in her life. It wasn't just 
winning, of course. It was also participating and she did have 
the honour of being one of the two representatives Kenya had 
entered for the event: as many as Russia, the United States and 
China, not to mention the more formidable competition from 
Tanzania, South Africa and Nigeria. In recent years, it was the 
African nations that had excelled at the International Cowgirl 
event and so expectations and standards were very high. All of 
which was scarce consolation to Lulu for having let down her 
nation so badly in the contest.

Well, not so badly that she had come last, although it was 
mostly competitors from the Middle East and Europe whose 
scores Lulu had bettered. And worse than not having qualified 
for the next round was that Lulu had come nowhere near her 
personal best. Even in the contest against her own standards, 
she had not excelled. She'd expected to score higher than, at 
the very least, Argentina and Turkey, but here she was, the first 
of the Kenyans to be eliminated: destined now to be only the 
smallest footnote in the history of the International Cowgirl.

She knew, even before the judges presented their score-
boards, that she hadn't quite done it. At least the Venezuelan 
judge had given her a nine but the other scores were a 
scattering of sevens and eights. Not nearly good enough. 
Particularly when her fellow Kenyan, Ghatoni, had scored 
mostly nines and that was with the same male partner as Lulu. 
Chilemba couldn't be blamed for failing her, although she still 
felt that he'd let her down slightly when his prick slipped out of 
her vagina at the crucial change of posture to full reverse 
cowgirl: her feet placed on his knees, ankles in and toes out, 
and upper body supported by her hands clutching his 
shoulders. It was a difficult manoeuvre, but one Lulu really 
should have handled better. She ought to have been more 
sensitive to the relative size of Chilemba's penis and her vulva's 
grip on its glans. But it was more the cumulative effect, not just 
the small slip, which had lowered her tally. As her coach told 
her when she sat on the bench, listening to the scores, it was 
her apparent lack of genuine enthusiasm and sexual excitement 
that most told against her. She was technically proficient, he 
had to admit, but she was losing that unfeigned zest for sex that 
distinguished the very best cowgirls. Her anal had been almost 
mechanical and the final facial was very nearly perfunctory. The 
top sexual athletes don't just have the ability to demonstrate 
their skill, they have to show that they enjoy it as well.

Lulu knew what he meant. Ghatoni was a world-class squirter 
and that tiny Japanese woman who did surprisingly well for her 
country orgasmed, yelled and screamed more than most other 
contestants put together. Who ever said that oriental women 
hid their emotions?

She sat naked with her coach for what seemed like forever: 
first trembling with anticipation at what her score might be and 
then shivering with shame and disappointment after the 
announcement had boomed across the stadium. She didn't 
know where she should look, although her eyes were invariably 
drawn to that section of the terraces where the African, and 
most specifically the Kenyan, fans were sitting. Those huge 
banners with her name on them had all been in vain. Lulu had 
indeed fucked for Nairobi, taken pearls of semen on her face 
for the Swahili nation and pumped Chilemba as dry as she 
could. But, after all the exertion, screened live over all Africa 
and the world, she had failed.

At first she couldn't be certain. The score-cards shimmered and 
blurred in front of her sweat-strewn eyes. The scores were first 
announced in German as befitted the host nation of the Sex 
Olympics, a language Lulu didn't speak. It was only when the 
announcement was then made in English that Lulu could be 
sure. And then, with the eyes of the world on her, and her face 
collapsing in misery, the scores were repeated in French, 
Spanish, Arabic and Chinese. 

She was a failure.

All that time, ten minutes in all, where she'd been fucking for the 
pride of her nation and more than that, the months, even years, 
of practise for this day, all had come to nothing. In living rooms 
and bars and offices throughout Nairobi and Kenya, all eyes 
had been on her, watching her akimbo on Chilemba's chest and 
knees, his penis thrusting inside, and her shaved crotch close-
up and magnified as she reciprocated her partner's thrusts with 
her own sexual rhythm. That was to have been her moment of 
glory. Now it was over. And people would not now remember 
the skill by which she transferred the penis from vagina to anus, 
the way she balanced so precariously on her partner, the talent 
of taking all the semen into her mouth and swallowing it, and 
her history of winning competitions in Kenya and Africa that 
had culminated in these ten minutes of international exposure. 
No. What they would remember was that solid, unremarkable 
score and Lulu's crumpled expression of despair and defeat 
that filled the massive screens of the stadium.

And what future lay ahead of her? Would Lulu enter 
competitions in the future? Did she even have the courage to do 
so? Or would she take a career in film or television where her 
cowgirl skills had prepared her well, although she had no acting 
ability? She certainly didn't have a life of marriage, children and 
domesticity to retire to. Even if that was what she wanted. Up 
to now it had all been clear. Her ambition was to become the 
best cowgirl in the world. An International Cowgirl who would 
be spoken about for generations. Now she'd come as far as 
she could and there was no further to go. What could she do 
now?

Lulu felt a comforting arm embrace her shoulder and a cheek 
press against her arm. "Don't worry, Lulu," said Ducha, who 
was Kenya's contestant in the 300 man marathon and was still 
in training. "You did well just to get this far and you know it!"

Lulu looked at her friend, her closest friend during the Munich 
Sex Olympics, and smiled as bravely as she could. She knew 
Ducha had grave doubts that she'd even do as well as Lulu. 
Ever since the Tokyo Anal Marathon where she'd had to bow 
out due to exhaustion and a possible urinary infection, she had 
lost much of the self-confidence that kept her going onto the 
critical two hundredth or two hundred and fiftieth fuck. She'd 
probably need as much reassurance from Lulu as she was now 
giving her compatriot.

"I know! I know!" said Lulu, finally giving vent to tears and 
burying her face in the comforting cushion of Ducha's 
exceptional bosom. "But knowing that doesn't somehow make 
it any better. All those months of practise. All that careful diet 
and exercise in the gym. All the men who've fucked me..."

"...And not just men!" Ducha reminded Lulu with a squeeze on 
her shoulders.

"Well, you certainly helped when Takata let me down that 
time," said Lulu graciously. "And your husband, Elewa, has 
been helpful while we've been here..."

"I'm only grateful I could help."

"I only wish I could have helped you in the same way," Lulu 
said through a nose full of snot. 

"There are not many sexual athletes lucky enough to have 
understanding husbands or partners," said Ducha. "In any case, 
Elewa needed to get as much exercise as he could for the 
Three-Way event. He said you were equal to two women at 
once. And he certainly knows all about that!"

"I'm glad I could have been of assistance, though there's not 
much cowgirl in the Three-Way. Hardly more than a minute or 
so. And it's strictly optional."

"Elewa has always enjoyed cowgirl, especially the anal variety," 
said Ducha. "You don't have to think he was only doing it for 
you."

Lulu nodded but she would have preferred it if some man had 
done it only for her. Of all the sexual partners she had, not just 
in the stadium but elsewhere, not one of them had ever done it 
just for her. For all her skill at love-making, all her enthusiasm 
at fucking and all her athletic prowess, she had never properly 
filled that emotional cavity in her love-life. 

It wasn't until the following day that Lulu again had time that 
could be called her own. Before then, she was interviewed by 
newspapers, magazines, and radio and television stations from 
not only Kenya but from all over African. None, of course, 
from outside the continent and only one from North Africa. 
And none of these interviews, brief though they were, made her 
feel any better. How did she feel? How disappointed was she? 
What were her plans for the future? The bland answers she 
gave were all a shield behind which Lulu struggled to work out 
for herself what she really thought and what she should do.

The fact she was spared the need for further practise didn't 
make it any easier. A mindless fuck where she could 
concentrate her energies on technique and presentation would 
actually have been quite welcome. Instead, she had to join the 
rest of the Kenyan delegation in congratulating those who had 
done better than she, were destined for better things, and for 
whom there was still a chance for bronze, silver or even gold. It 
was difficult to wholeheartedly wish the best to others when 
you knew that you had no chance to emulate their glory. Lulu's 
sympathies, in truth, went to those, like her, who had already 
tasted all the glory they were likely to have and were also 
disappointed in what they'd achieved.

Failure makes strange bedfellows. She found herself chatting 
with Annouchka from the Ukrainian team who'd also competed 
in the cowgirl event and had scored rather worse than Lulu 
thanks, it seemed, to a sore ankle. She also passed words with 
Lars, a Norwegian who had failed to ejaculate on more than 
two of his partners in the Multiple Anal event. But it was Ducha 
who received most of Lulu's attention. She was exhausted from 
her practise sessions with a mere twenty men and was worried 
that she'd flag before even the first one hundred in the coming 
marathon. And it was inevitable that Lulu should spend the 
night with Ducha while her husband was practising anal with a 
male contestant in another bed.

And now she was alone at last, she was restless and fidgety. 
She didn't intend to dwell on her performance of the previous 
day, but she was drawn to pick at it like a sore scab or scratch 
it like an itch. Soon she was replaying on the official Sex 
Olympics site the footage of her part in the International 
Cowgirl event, together with the critical commentary provided 
by the BBC. 

It was peculiar, of course, to see herself as others saw her. Her 
legs were apart. Her shaved crotch faced the camera. All that 
could be seen of Chilemba was his testicles and the shaft of his 
penis thrusting in and out of her vagina. She was naked, of 
course, as was required for such events. Clothing, shoes or 
even make-up was not considered appropriate for a sporting 
event. That sort of thing was more appropriate for beauty 
contests, porn shows or videos than for a serious-minded 
competition like the Tenth International Sex Olympics.

Nevertheless, watching the footage of her performance, again 
and again and yet again, only reinforced Lulu's sense of utter 
worthlessness. If all she was good for in life was to position 
herself above a man's prick and let it thrust into her, what value 
was there to her life at all? She was almost agreeing with those 
from her college in Nairobi and, of course, her parents and 
family, who told her she was stupid to put all her efforts into 
cowgirl sex and to abandon a promising but dull career in the 
Civil Service. If all those years of effort, exercise and semen-
swallowing were to culminate only in this?to feel wretched 
and miserable in a hotel room in Munich?what then had the 
point of it all been?

Eventually, it became too much for Lulu. She decided to leave 
the hotel and the accompanying stadium grounds and mooch 
around Munich. After so many days and nights of constant 
nudity, it was hard enough even to find any clothes, let alone 
decide which ones to wear, but she put on a modest tee-shirt 
and jeans, with black trainers, to look as plain as she could. 
And, of course, as little as possible like a sexual athlete. 

Even with her street map, it was easy to get lost in the city. 
There were sufficiently many black faces that Lulu attracted 
rather less attention than would a white face in Nairobi. She 
enjoyed walking anonymously through the city. If only they 
knew that she was one of those who everyone was excitedly 
watching on television screens in bars, restaurants and living 
rooms. Would anyone recognise her? Probably not, since most 
of her that had been displayed to the German nation had been 
her nether orifices and when her face was displayed it was 
mostly obscured by an ejaculating penis. 

Lulu soon tired of wandering the streets, gazing in shops and 
standing at traffic lights. She needed to rest her feet and where 
better than at a Starbucks, of which she was pleased there was 
at least one in Munich. Here she could be certain of a 
reasonably comfortable place to sit. She got her coffee, handed 
over a ten Euro note and received the change: a transaction 
conducted in English. It seemed that everyone in Germany 
spoke a few words.

However, she wasn't to be quite as solitary as she hoped. The 
armchair she sat in was by a table shared with a lanky young 
man who recognised her when he turned his head, even though 
Lulu couldn't place him.

"It's Lulu Chenebe, isn't it?" he said in English, but lightly 
accented by his native German tongue. "I hardly recognised 
you with your clothes on." He studied Lulu quizzically, while 
she wondered how she might tactfully move to another table. 
"You don't recognise me though, do you? It's Joachim. I'm one 
of the Press Officers for the International Sex Olympics 
Committee."

"Oh. Joachim," said Lulu, still not sure whether she wanted to 
stay sitting where she was. "So it is."

"I was with you all yesterday afternoon," Joachim continued, 
"helping you with the media."

"Oh yes," said Lulu, remembering him at last. It was dreadful to 
admit but white people often looked the same to her, especially 
the blond, tall variety you found in Germany. "You were the 
one who made sure I only got to see one journalist at a time."

"That's my job," said Joachim, pleased to have been 
recognised. "I was assigned to the East African nations for the 
Cowgirl and Anal events. You have to speak Portuguese and 
English to do that." He tactfully lowered his voice. "I was sorry 
you didn't do better in the International Cowgirl event."

Lulu nodded. "Thank you," she said, not sure what else to say.

"The competition was very tough," Joachim continued. "That 
Japanese girl was something else, wasn't she?"

"She was," said Lulu, becoming suddenly very tired of the 
conversation.

However, Joachim was sensitive enough to realise that it was 
not a good idea to continue rubbing at a sore wound.

"What do you think of Munich?" he asked, changing the 
subject.

"I don't really know the city at all," Lulu admitted. "I have seen 
so little of it from the hotel and the stadium. It's only now, after 
the competition, that I can see the city. I return to Nairobi in 
only two days time."

"Well," said Joachim, "if you have nothing better to do, I will be 
very pleased to show you around the city." He smiled as 
engagingly as he could. "What time do you have to be back at 
the hotel?"

Lulu wasn't sure she wanted to ever be back amongst her 
fellow sex athletes and be reminded of her failure. She was sure 
that either or both of Habiba and Zakiya would win a medal for 
Kenya in their events?especially Habiba who was entered for 
both Double Penetration and Synchronised Hand Jobs, and 
was known for her unshakeable cheerfulness and her facility at 
multiple orgasm. So, Lulu decided to tag along with Joachim 
for the afternoon, let him be her guide and put off the time until 
she needed to return to the hotel. 

It was obvious that Joachim knew exactly what might well be in 
store for him as a reward for entertaining a sex athlete. After 
all, Lulu made love to several men in a normal day's practise 
and substantially more during competitions. Lulu had no real 
intention of disappointing him, although she was sure his penis 
would be relatively unremarkable after those of her fellow 
athletes. She'd only made love to a handful of white men in her 
life and these had all been in the course of her chosen sport. 
They were a strange novelty with regards to skin colour, but 
there wasn't much else different to them. Certainly in a 
competition, a white penis had the advantage of showing up 
more clearly against her skin, but there weren't very many 
White Kenyans who competed at the international level. 

It was difficult for Lulu to view Joachim as anything other than 
male meat to be consumed later, however charming he was. 
She was amused by his enthusiasm for his city as he explained 
in great detail how the German people attached huge 
significance to the homes of their birth. "As you do, no doubt, 
in Kenya," he said diplomatically. Perhaps, Lulu thought, but 
not in quite the sickly sentimental way the Germans seemed to 
do. She found his stories about his job as a Press Officer quite 
diverting, gratified that his role wasn't just for the Sex Olympics 
but for political and cultural events as well. Nonetheless, 
whenever Lulu caught Joachim's eye she could see that behind 
his smile and his politeness there was a sexual desire for her 
body that he must have thought, having seen her fuck in front of 
the world's cameras, would surely be more easily accessible to 
him than that of the average German fraulein. 

Lulu let Joachim entertain her with a meal in an Italian 
restaurant, quite happy not to patake of the unpleasant looking 
dishes that the Germans enjoyed. She smiled as the wine he 
drank made him rather more inebriated than Lulu allowed 
herself to be. In truth, she wasn't really listening to very much of 
what he had to say which, like for most men, tended to be 
about the things that he liked doing, the things that he liked 
reading about and the things that he wanted to do in the future. 
Men were pretty much the same everywhere. Perhaps that's 
why Lulu had never wanted to burden herself with a man in her 
life. Not that she preferred women, although she had no 
objection to making love to them on occasion.

Lulu's thoughts returned to the competition. As she studied the 
strange twisted shape of the pasta in her bowl, she wondered 
whether she was right to feel so desolate about her failure to 
win a medal for her country. After all, it had been an 
achievement just to have got so far. Most women could never 
reach the level in their chosen sport as she had. Whatever else 
she might be?not being the champion cowgirl in the world or 
even the best in her country?she had at least attained a level 
of excellence far beyond that of most people. And perhaps 
now, before she was too old, was a good time for her to drop 
her sport, be content to be Nairobi's second best cowgirl, after 
Ghatoni. And then what? Marriage?

Having sex with Joachim decided for Lulu that marriage was a 
proposition that didn't appeal to her. He was a very ordinary 
fuck. There was hardly more than five minutes until he 
ejaculated, thankfully into the condom he insisted on wearing 
(though after all the health and drug checks there were few 
people in the world as certifiably clean as the contestants in the 
Tenth International Sex Olympics). However, Lulu was grateful 
to be sleeping in a different bed for the night even if Joachim 
took more than half the duvet. Outside the flat she could hear 
the normal sounds of a city, which after the unreal silence of the 
hotel room, punctuated by the over-enthusiastic orgasmic 
shrieks of other contestants, was a reminder of a less 
competitive world.

"So, will I see you again?" Joachim asked anxiously the 
following morning.

He was still naked and looked a sorry figure in comparison to 
the men Lulu most usually had sex with. His chest was thin, his 
muscles were lean but scarcely impressive, and his penis was 
probably just below average size, which, compared to most 
men Lulu fucked, was rather small. He did have a friendly face 
and it was clear that for him, although not for Lulu, this was a 
night of sexual pleasure he'd always remember.

Lulu wondered as she evaded his question whether this was 
how prostitutes handled their tricks. They might make vague 
reassuring remarks, but regard the business of sex not as a 
romantic, sensual affair but as something quite different. 
Perhaps for Lulu it wasn't so much a business transaction, 
although having sex was what she did for a living, but it 
certainly lacked any deeper meaning.

"Where were you last night?" Ducha asked when Lulu returned 
to the hotel in the late afternoon. "I looked for you everywhere. 
I so wanted to sleep with you last night."

"You did?" asked Lulu, actually quite flattered by her friend's 
concern.

"It's only one day to the marathon," Ducha said. "I'm so 
anxious. I've been wondering whether I should risk the drugs 
tests and take something for my stamina. What do you think?"

Lulu held her friend's hand. "It's not worth it," she said. "If you 
win a medal you'll be tested automatically. If you get caught by 
random tests, you'll shame your country, our country, 
unnecessarily."

Ducha kissed Lulu's lips. "You're so wise, Lulu. It is going to 
be an awfully tiring contest. The last time I did a 300 man 
marathon, I was out of action for weeks. Elewa was very put 
out."

Lulu couldn't help wondering why Ducha had chosen an event 
that she evidently didn't really enjoy, but in the process she 
found herself questioning whether she relished her own sport 
any more.

"Don't worry, Ducha," she said. "As I don't have any more 
training to do, I'll watch you during the marathon. I'll be 
cheering you on."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you. It gets ever so lonely. So few 
people watch the contest all the way through. Even the 
invigilators change shift during the event."

Lulu had worries of her own and she really wanted to broach 
them with her friend.

"Tell me, Ducha," she asked in a serious tone. "What should I 
do now?"

"What? I don't know. Have a shower. Watch a few events."

"No, not this minute. What should I do in the future? Should I 
continue to compete as International Cowgirl?"

"Why shouldn't you?"

"I'll never ever achieve a higher rating than I have here. I'll 
never represent my country again. I've failed to win a medal."

Ducha could see the earnestness of Lulu's concern. She held 
Lulu tight to her chest and kissed her tenderly about the cheeks 
and lips.

"I'm so pleased you chose me to confide in. You want to give 
up your sport? Is that it?"

"Yes," said Lulu.

"And what do you want to do instead?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

Ducha detached herself from Lulu and held onto her only by 
her hands.

"It's not easy being an athlete. But not being an athlete after 
having competed at such a high level isn't going to be easy 
either."

"So what should I do?"

Ducha crumpled her face in agonised contemplation. She 
clearly did not know what to say.

At last she shook her head.

"It's the sex that's the problem. It's not like you can have sex 
like a normal person while you do it as a sport. I don't know 
the answer, but I would try having sex with people who are not 
in the sports world and then decide."

Lulu nodded her head. "I've done that."

"And what do you think?"

Lulu considered. Her love-life with sex athletes had spoilt her. 
Could she really abandon regular and ecstatic sex with men 
who were at the very peak of their profession? Would she 
exchange it for sex with men like Joachim? Was the alternative 
to being a sex athlete to accept a level of mediocrity in her sex-
life she'd not known in many years?

"It's a difficult decision," said Lulu, reflecting on the fact that the 
longer she remained a sex athlete, the longer she'd continue to 
enjoy sex at the highest level. "I'll have to think about it. It may 
take a while until I'm absolutely sure."





