Tag Archives: vagina

AB#7 – Whore House

9 Aug

I often find myself struggling to get the attention of females, whether they are young, old or disabled. I put this down to the fact that they are too scared to approach me, not that I am intimidating, but because they probably feel that I am out of their league. Yes, I may be a self proclaimed eccentric; I like to wear a stuffed toucan on one shoulder when going out to socialise, but inside I am like every other man out there, only a little bit nicer.

As a result of the insecurities of the females in my town, I find myself having to pay for sexual gratification. It’s more of a necessity than a hobby. Well, it was, until two nights ago when I paid a discreet visit to my local brothel, Bones. By day, Bones runs as a massage parlour, a good one at that. However, at night, the shutters come down and the action moves to the flats upstairs. Either way, you can enter the premises stiff as a board, but leave feeling flimsy, with a smile on your face. The local constabulary are well aware of what goes on, but there is an unwritten rule around here amongst the men that we keep it a secret from the majority of women in the town. The only ones who know are Gladys and Martha, who own the massage parlour, and indeed the prostitutes that work there.

What I enjoy about visiting Bones is the huge selection. You get to choose the woman you want, how long you want her for, where you want her, what you’d like her to wear, what you want to do to her and, my personal favourite, what you’d like her to do to you. All the options are handed to you on a laminated sheet of A4 at reception and you simply select the combination that tickles your fancy. You just write down what you want, and when your girl is free, you’re good to go. Last Thursday I opted for the following:

Renata – 30 minutes – Bathroom – Barney dinosaur costume – fist – hand job.

 Now Renata is a filthy minx of a Polish woman, and she has a tidy little torso on her as well. She had a tiny shaving rash around her vagina the last time I had her, but I liked this quite a bit. It looked naughty. For my thirty minute session, I paid the sum of £40, a bargain I’m sure you’ll agree. I’ve been with Renata a few times as she’s money well spent. She actually looks like she enjoys her job, unlike some of the others, particularly the Romanians. I heard rumours from other regulars that she’s a bit of a squirter, but I have yet to experience this phenomenon. In most of the women,you can see the fear in their eyes, which makes the whole experience thoroughly enjoyable. Shameful sex is good sex; I learnt that from my father.

Anyway, two nights ago I was at home and feeling frisky. I’d already watched my ‘Carry on up the Sphincter’ DVD twice that day and was bored of the same images; they were no longer doing anything for me, unable to raise anything more than a semi. I decided to go to Bones to see what was on offer and to hopefully satisfy my ever increasing sexual urges. I applied a delicate dollop of savlon to my sore shaft, which, if I’m honest, I had already put through its paces earlier that day and now resembled a purple button mushroom, more than it did a penis. Picking my wallet up off the mantel piece, I headed out the door with dirty thoughts running, nay fumbling, through my mind. Bones is only a ten minute walk from my house and I arrived bitterly cold; the night air was crisp and I had negated to wear a coat. My flat cap did little to cover my ears either.

I headed down the side alley next door to the massage parlour and rapped on the side entrance four times. This is the signal that you are a punter looking for business; a secret code that lets the reception area know it is safe to answer the door. Within seconds the door was ajar and I could see Gladys smiling at me from behind the security chain.

“Arthur! Come in, good to see you”, she said jubilantly, as always.

Gladys was a joy to be around, she ran a tight ship at Bones but everyone respected her. Even though she’s in her late sixties, she’s always up for a laugh and I think a lot of the young girls look up to her. They even let her look after their passports. Gladys led me upstairs to the main reception area and handed me the selection sheet for the night. I scanned the names of the women.

“No Renata tonight?” I looked at Gladys disapprovingly.

I was up for a whole night of pure kink with Renata, but my hopes had been dashed.

“Sorry Arthur, she’s ill tonight. She thought she had a shaving rash but it turned out to be a little more serious than that. Do you want to choose one of the other women?”

As I looked down the names, a lot of the regular women were on there, but I noticed one name that I hadn’t seen before; Mary. I pointed at her name on the list and asked Gladys who this new person was. I was told that Mary was a buxom beauty, and a local girl as well, just looking to get a bit of extra cash. She’d passed her HIV test, which all of the Bones employees have to take as a precaution, with flying colours, and was willing to do pretty much anything, as long as it didn’t involve being tied up as she had a phobia about this. “I’ll try anything once, Gladys. Put me down for Mary”. I scrawled my selections out on a selection sheet and handed it over, together with my £200. I was staying the night. My choices this time were:

Mary – 1 night – Bedroom – Naked – Anything she desires – Everything I desire.

I wanted to make the most of this one. New meat was rare at Bones; the company was renowned for its low employee turnover rate, so seeing a new girl on the list was not only a shock, but also a turn on. I saw Mary like a new ride at a theme park; the prospect of riding it was scary, but at the same time, hugely exciting. Gladys led me down the dimly lit corridor to the left hand side of reception and to room five. “Wait until I leave, and then knock four times. Mary will let you in when she’s ready. I’ve already phoned your requests through to her.” With that, Gladys spun on her heels and disappeared back to where we had just come from. I took a deep breath, I was feeling anxious, which was not normal for me, then knocked on the door as advised.

 It took what seemed like an eternity before there was any answer, during which time my little womb ferret had decided to make his presence known to the front of my jeans. I quickly reached down and pulled him upwards, tucking him underneath my belt. I didn’t want to look too keen.

“Come in”. The voice was a husky whisper.

 It was obvious that she was a new worker as she didn’t have the confidence in her voice that many of the other girls have. I opened the door and waddled in. I couldn’t walk properly as I was now concealing a rather large bulge down below. I closed the door gently behind me and spotted Mary perched on the edge of the bed, her bare back to me, and smoking a cigarette. She looked lovely. She wasn’t a petit from what I could make out, but she was by no means large. As I went to take a step forward, Mary turned to face me, manoeuvring her legs onto the bed, so she was now lying on top of it.

“Ma..Mary?!”

“Ar thur?!” I stayed where I was, aghast.

The new worker was none other than Mary O’Connor, the woman who lives across the road from me, and who I used to actively stalk. I couldn’t believe my luck. For just £200, I was going to be able to do anything to her I wanted. My head was awash with thoughts, part of me thought that if I could put in a decent performance, I might persuade her to be with me, to run away with me like I had always wanted to do. Mary looked as shocked to see me, as I did her. She crossed her arms awkwardly in a desperate attempt to cover her soft breasts and placed a tatty white pillow in front of her beaver.

“Arthur…What are you doing here? You have to leave, we can’t do this…I…I…know you. Please don’t tell anyone I do this. Please”.

“Damn you, Mary.” I proclaimed in a rather spiteful manner and I approached the bed.

The moonlight was pouring through the gap in the curtains and onto her body, making her shimmer like a glorious mermaid, without the tail. Or the scales. “I’ve paid good money for tonight. It’s your job; you can’t turn me away; besides, because it’s you, I’ll be gentle. You know how much I adore you.”

With that, I clambered up onto the bed and towards Mary, who had a look of bewilderment in her face. She was shaking a little bit, probably through shock, and this made her nipples gyrate hypnotically. I took the opportunity to push Mary down flat onto the bed, and knelt on her outstretched arms, so my groin was in her face. She said nothing; she just lay there gazing into my bloodshot eyes. I knew at this point I was going to have to pull something special out of the bag, so to speak. I put my finger to Mary’s lips (facial), as she started to sob gently.

“Shhhhhh, Mary. Relax. I’ll make it all better”. I was trying to calm her down, not too much, but enough so she might enjoy it as well.

I unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled free from them, like a snake shedding its skin. Next, my maroon, and embarrassingly stained boxer shorts were pulled down. I teased the tip of my shaft around Mary’s neck and then up onto her cheeks, whilst moving her left hand onto my balls. She squeezed them tightly as I entered her mouth. Her lips were dry, but I enjoyed the friction. As I thrust in and out of her gaping jaw, I was planning my next romantic move. I knew it had to be special. I ordered Mary to turn over and push her chest to the bed with her arse in the air. She obliged, eventually.

I took up my position up off the bed and took a small run up, my erect penis aimed arrow-like at Mary’s winking snatch. Her arse looked wonderful, like a peach, but a little less furry. There was a squelching sound as I entered her and I must admit I let out a small woop of joy; I was shagging Mary, the woman of my dreams. I thrust deeper and deeper into her velvety folds, holding her around the waist and rocking her back and forth to a nice gentle rhythm. I could feel myself nearing orgasm with every thrust so I removed myself from her passage and stood up once more.

Mary collapsed face down onto the bed; her legs were weak from cramp from the position she had been in. I rolled her onto her side and began to slowly stroke myself whilst I cupped her breast in my other hand. I moved in for a kiss but she turned her head away and this made me a little angry, reminding me of the times she’s shunned me in the past.

“Run away with me”, I whispered delicately into her ear, hoping to change the mood in the room somewhat.

She didn’t respond so I gave her fanny a gentle pat, then climbed on top of her and penetration commenced once again. I was more vigorous this time. I no longer cared about my £200; I wanted to finish off the dirty work and then cuddle up to Mary before chatting deep into the night, about our future plans together.

“One more manoeuvre”, I exclaimed through drawn breath. Mary nodded her head as if to say ‘go on then’ and I took up by the hand and led her across the room, positioning her against the wall opposite a wardrobe which had a mirror on the front. I wanted to watch myself in action, and watch Mary’s curves ripple slightly as I serviced her. I dropped to my knees and lapped at Mary’s sweaty pink hole with my tongue. I gave a performance like Pac-Man on acid, and Mary actually shuddered a little as her vaginal muscles contracted and sent a wave of pleasure through her body. I rolled onto the floor, triumphantly. I’d succeeded in what I wanted to do; prove to Mary that I could make her happy.

I lay there, physically and mentally exhausted, and it was in this position that I had a moment of epiphany. I realised that Mary O’Connor would never give me a proper chance outside of the brothel. She was dead to the world and had no true feelings. Besides, I’d got what I’d always wanted, and I’d discovered Mary was nowhere near as exciting as Renata. I was finally over the bitch, and I’d achieved it by having intercourse with her, whilst at the same time degrading her. What a way to get over her.

“Shoot that poison arrow through my hearrrr—aarrr-ar-art”, I sang as I left the room. Mary was still naked, stood against the wall with her legs apart and head to one side with her eyes closed. As I shut the door behind me, I heard a thud, which I assume was her slumping to the floor. This made me smile. I am now looking forward to another liaison with Renata, I may even try and find out where she lives…

Sexual Ignorance

7 Jul

A few years back I was indulging in drunken conversation with a lady friend when inevitably the subject matter turned to sex, and in particular, our favourite things to get up to in the bedroom. Having confessed to enjoying having her nipples lightly bitten, her labia being stroked with lace and to loving the sensation of frozen peas being pushed against her pulsating pussy, Melody was eager for me to regale tales of what I had got up to the bedroom and what I enjoyed the most. For the next half hour or so, I went into great detail of what had really got me going between the sheets, and mentioned the following:

Beetroot Enema – I had first tried this at the tender age of 16 with my first proper girlfriend, an 18 year old gypsy girl named Rosie, who was born a hermaphrodite. She would blend up 4 or 5 beetroot, mix in some ginger, and then induce the liquified goodness into my rectum using a hose pipe and a bike pump. The slightly burning sensation was, well, sensational, and in no time at all my gutstick would be engorged and ready for action. I explained to Melody that I had indulged in beetroot enemas a fair few times since.

The Lizard – Wendy Halflove, the girl I left Rosie for, suffered from extreme psoriasis. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than me rubbing a pumice stone all over her naked body. Her toes would curl, and she would dig her fingernails into my shoulders as she came; I wouldn’t even have to enter her, it was the pumice that did all the work. This made sex less of a chore for me; I would merely have a wank once she was ‘finished’. However, I would be covered in flaky skin at the time, resembling a giant lizard. I have always made sure I have pumice in my top drawer since. Melody seemed confused by this but I carried on….

Floater – Quite simple really, I had some great experiences with a 24 stone gothic woman named Medusa. I would take a bath, and she would squat on the side and defecate into the water. The thing that turned me on the most was watching the foul faeces leave her; it was the way her buttocks would slowly separate and the brown goodness would appear, like a tiny mole poking its head out of the ground. I would listen intently as she strained, and then lay back blissfully as another bog-trout joined me for a swim. Medusa also introduced me to the wonderful world of sploshing, although sometimes the sessions would be cut short and she seemed to have an overwhelming urge to eat most of the food.

Month-Old Water Balloon – This is something that really got one of my exes horny. I had dated Abigail when I was 20 and at the time it didn’t do anything for me, but since we split, I have had many a wank about it. For one month, I knew that every morning would begin with a blow job. First though, I was made to go for a piss, but not shake off much of the excess. Abigail loved it when my foreskin retracted and a few droplets of urine escaped and trickled down my shaft. She would then work me into a frenzy with her mouth, using her hand to aid the process. I was under strict orders to ejaculate into her mouth, which I did. She would then spit the contents of her mouth into a small sandwich bag, put an elastic band on it to seal, and place under her bed. She did this every days, for 30 days, until she had enough of my putrid spunk in the bag for the next stage of her fetish. This simply involved me throwing the bag at her so the contents would explode all over her. By now, Melody was looking perplexed.

The Matisse – Denise Glover, a 40-something I picked up one night at my local introduced felt pens to my nocturnal activities. We would draw pictures on one another’s intimate areas with the pens; it was fantastic foreplay. I remember drawing a face on each of her breasts once, using her hardened nipple as the nose. Denise would write naughty words such as ‘cock’ on my stomach, and then draw an arrow to my actual cock. Alongside this, she would write poems about what she was going to do with it. It was great fun, although I was caused great embarrassment in a public toilet one time, when the gentleman next to me spotted my fluorescent orange bellend which I had forgot to clean. After sex, we would clean the filthy words off each other in the shower, which often resulted in more sex. This led to more foreplay, and the felt pens would come out again. It was a vicious circle; we once had sex for 72 hours non-stop.

I looked at Melody, having poured out my most personal sexual experiences. “Have you tried any of them?”, I asked. Melody looked dumbstruck, and her jaw dropped a little.

“Erm, no”, she wimpered.

No?! No?! I couldn’t believe it! She’d never even heard of the sexual practices I’d mentioned, despite being sexually active herself! What an amazing display of ignorance on her part.

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