I held off on this one for a very specific reason. However now that I realized that I promised myself to be open about my experiences... I'm posting this. I should warn you, this is a pretty graphic and explicit description of sex inspired by Belle De Jour, Abby Lee and numerous other sex bloggers who decided to be honest about their lives. Here goes.
March 1st, 2008
It’s midnight in Prague and I’ve propped myself up against the wall, desperately trying to untangle my thoughts. It’s undeniably risky, and there are about a million ways that it could end up being a very very stupid thing to attempt. But…. After feeling constricted for so long, all I can think of is Why the Hell Not? As my best intellectual rebuttal. I threw my drink into a nearby trashcan and stumbled down the stairs. The door is an imposing behemoth of steel, but I manage to ring the doorbell. As I’m waiting to be let in, my mind tries to document what strange factors have led me here. It could be the lack of action in Dublin. It could be because it seems like something crazy and unique to do. Mostly though, I had a night to kill in Prague by myself. And what better way to kill it then this? I’m still lost in my own thoughts when a burly doorman greets me with clear English and tells me to come inside. I quickly entered the Sweet Paradise Sex Club with an odd mix of apprehension and giddy excitement.
The bouncer is tall, too tall to guess accurately. His bald head, piercing eyes, and imposing manner contrasted deeply with his downright cheery demeanor. The place is barely lit and as I walk into the main area I feel as if I’ve walked into the most bizarre movie set ever devised. The entire room is bathed in soft blue light, and a single disco ball adds an almost campy touch to the club. To the right, there’s a small bar with a bartender, two girls drinking god knows what, and another male costumer. The bouncer beckons me to sit down over at the bar and I eagerly do so. The bartender is a statuesque brunette with a relaxed manner about her. She asks what I’d like to drink and I order the usual Southern Comfort and coke not so much to drink it but to give myself something to fixate on besides the environment. I pay only a few dollars for a meager entrance fee and the drink, and swiftly take a few gulps of the admittedly well mixed drink. I glance over to my right, and the man who was sitting beside me is now playfully talking to a cute blond who’s easily half his age. Oh look, I think. Now he’s groping her.
The bartender noticed that I was more than a little out of place, so she offered to explain the procedures to me. We head over to a small couch and after detailing the pricing she motioned over to the throng of girls on the other side of the room. There’s about fifteen of them, all doing a variety of activities. All of them are chatting with one another in what I assume is Czech, and I’d have given anything to understand what they were saying. Some were looking over in my direction and smiling at me, trying to get my attention. Others are absorbed in their own conversations, laughing and still smiling throughout it all. Still others are taking long drags off their cigarettes, looking far more at ease than I do.
I was still trying to fathom my situation when the bartender got up to leave and explained that the girls are all going over to say hello. Literally. All fifteen of them leisurely got up, walked over to me, said Hello and shook my hand. Once again, their approach differed. Some were haughty and had an air of superiority to them, a few others practically begged for me to look them over head to toe. Their outfits weren’t particularly revealing; you could see more skin at a beach. After they were all done introducing themselves they sat back down and went back to their own little worlds. I frantically returned to my drink and wondered just how the hell I’m supposed to choose someone to have sex with. All the girls were attractive but their ages and ethnicities differed. Most were eastern European and probably in their early twenties. It’s one thing to anonymously surf on a website for an escort. It’s entirely another experience to choose one girl out of fifteen when they’re all a few feet away. I’m still trying to decide what to do when I hit the end of my drink and realize that I’m looking like a fool. I instinctively walked up to a pack of girls, and pick the one who’s not especially gorgeous but certainly striking. She wasn’t one of the girls eagerly attempting to get my attention. No, she was the ones cooly sitting in the back, smoking a Marlboro, and probably never gave me a second glance when I came in.
“Hi” is all I can muster at this point. She slowly looks up and says a very neutral “Yes?”. “Jesus Christ, what do you say to a prostitute?” my subconscious screams at me. “Um… are you available?” I say, trying to not sound like I’m asking costumer service for help. She put out her cigarette first, but before she got up she says she is available. We walked back to the couch, unsure of what to do next. Clearly, there is no set protocol for this sort of thing. Some guys want to get the girl in the room as quick as possible, while others probably sit in the main area and chat away for an hour or so. There’s another guy in the club now, he’s deeply involved in a conversation with a blonde girl. They look more like old friends than a hooker and a john. I have no idea what guys usually talk to their girl about, so our conversation is more than a little stilted. We exchange names; hers was Lea. She’s from Slovakia, and she says she was a student there but didn’t care for it so she came to Prague. I would scoff at her method of finding herself, but then I remember that I’m half drunk at a brothel in Prague trying to do the same.
Finally, she stood up and motioned me to come with her. The other girls mumbled to one another in Czech as Lea stridently walked in front of me. I can’t help but notice that her ass is practically perfect. There are about six rooms in the hallway; she enters the third one nonchalantly. As I enter the room like it’s a minefield, she’s already reaching for something in a cabinet. I took off my coat, placed it on a nearby ottoman, and watched her with curiosity. She pulled out a bottle of lube, a pack of condoms, and a box of matches. She moved over to the corner of the room and lit the three candles near the ceiling. Take note, I said to myself. Even in a brothel, candles exude class. Like the outer area, this room is also bathed in soft light. Nearly everything in the room is a shade of deep red; including the bed, the walls, and the single light. Lea turned back toward me and asked how long I’d be with her tonight. I’m surprised at her English. It’s clear that it’s not her native language, but she’s still responding to what I’ve told her succinctly and directly. I hand her enough cash for thirty minutes. She instructed me to take a shower so I quickly began to undress. I begin to get a little modest, but I soon realized why I’m here and I stepped into the shower.
I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, and Lea handed me a towel to dry off. She casually removes her dress to reveal a near ideal body. She’s taller than I am, and probably a year or two older. A small heart necklace complements her long brunette hair and B cup breasts. An artistic tattoo wraps around her lower back and stomach. I can’t help but notice that even though I hadn’t meant to I had picked a woman very physically similar to the one in Dublin. After she took a quick shower she instructed me to get onto the bed. We had talked briefly about what I had wanted, and I just told her that I didn’t want anything crazy. I laid down in the bed, completely exposed. She giggled a little and laid down next to me.
She started off with a quick handjob, to get me properly aroused. Once she did that she put a condom on me and then proceeded to give me the best blowjob of my life. I’ve had a… very reasonable number of experiences, but Lea was just unreal. She did techniques with her tongue that I didn’t even know were possible, let alone that effective. I’m essentially putty in her hands; at first I tried letting her know what I liked and what I didn’t. As she continued my gyrating hips, quickened breathing, and ever harder cock gave her all the answers she needed. For nearly thirty minutes she kept me on the threshold of climaxing, ever careful to not push me too far too fast.
She abrubtly stopped, and laid down on her back. There was a sudden silence as I was too busy recovering from her fantastic blowjob to recognize what I was supposed to do next. After a moment of awkward silence, she looked a bit puzzled. “What, you don’t want to get on top of me?” she asked with a hint of concern. “Oh yeah, I definitely do” was what I tried to say, but instead all that came out was a few syllables and a goofy grin. She laughed a bit as I got on top of her. After realizing that I was frozen with a storm of emotions, she gently grabbed me and helped me get inside her. I let out a moan of delight as she grabbed my ass and pushed me further into her. She controlled the rhythm of our bodies and her hands wandered across my back once I felt properly relaxed. I was about to come when the fucking phone rings. Great. Time’s up. I expect her to push me aside, and shoo me out within the next few seconds. Instead, she giggles a bit and decides to finish me off with another quick blow job. In less than two minutes she gave me the best orgasm of my life. I collapsed back into the bed, told her that that was incredible, and drifted off into space. As she started to get her outfit back on, I burst out laughing. She shot me a serious look. Well, as serious as I look can be when you’re naked. I told her about Madonna’s quote that “everyone loves you when they’re about to cum” and how I had never really understood the quote until now. She smiled a smile that I hoped was genuine, and I quickly rose from the bed and reached for the wallet. “Do you mind another half hour?”
This time around, there’s no initial awkwardness or her having to react to my lack of action. She’s more intimate with me too, as she kissed my chest and even licked my earlobes, something that always sets me off. After an even better ten or so minutes of her sucking and playing with my cock, she asked me if it was okay that she was on top. I’m fairly sure I fainted for a few seconds after that. She started off slow, but soon enough she was bouncing up and down and all I could do was hold onto the sheets and pray a little. usually I pray to God during sex, but this time I had already prayed to God, BUddha, and half of the Greek pantheon by the time she pushed herself all the way down on top of me. I instinctively grabbed her arched back as we breathed in sync. Our hips moved faster and faster; I looked into her eyes as she did the same. For an instant, we were one. She gave a quick smile and, before going even faster, clawed my arm and drew a few drops of blood. It was sensory overload on every level.
She collapsed on top of me, and for a few seconds we remained motionless. I moved to kiss her on the lips, but at the last second she pulled away. Most escorts are very touchy about this sort of thing, and I could hardly blame Lea for it. She responded by once again warming me up with a quick rub and then hopping on top of me.
The rest of the session is a blur, but there was one more moment of clarity. As she straddled me with ever more vigor, our eyes once again locked. This time, she moved forward as if to kiss me. As I closed my eyes and our lips quickly touched, she quicky pulled back, bit down hard on my lip, and drew blood. Very soon after I climaxed.
As I gathered up my clothes while she showered, I realized just how much I didn’t feel dirty or ashamed. Prostitution is perceived as such a dirty world, but it’s not like buying crack on a street corner. Nor is it like going down to the local grocer and picking out the best fruit. It’s so much more than that. It wasn’t about the sex; it was about the intimacy. She led me out, and as I turned around to her one last time she tenderly kissed me on the cheek before saying goodbye.
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About a month later, I read Girl with a One Track Mind by Abby Lee. A particular passage hit me hard. Here it is, printed in it's entirety. The relevant pieces follow. Full Entry is at http://girlwithaonetrackmind.blogspot.com/search?q=pseudo
"In my opinion, with regards to one-night-stands, men tend to fall into three categories:
2. The Pseudo- Partner. They either haven't had much casual sex, or they have recently come out of a meaningful relationship. They seek a connection with a woman and convince themselves that they just want a shag but are actually seeking emotional solace, whether to boost their damaged ego or because they miss that shared closeness with someone.
The sex they have is very affectionate, loving and tactile: they interact with the woman as if she were a partner.
Sex with Pseudo-Partners is far better in terms of quality, but comes with its own baggage, this time at the other end of the scale. These men are unfamilar with the necessity to keep a degree of emotional distance during a one-night stand and they resort to making love instead, even though they'll swear blind they only wanted to get laid.
They don't want just physical gratification, but crave affection which they end up expressing sexually with someone they don't really have feelings for - it's a false intimacy, in every respect.
I've read about Pseudo-Partners time and again on sexblogs, and it looks like a lot of them end up seeking solace in the arms of a prostitute who offers a so-called "girlfriend experience". They get sex, a cuddle and a chance to offload what's on their mind instead of the clock watching in-out, in-out that usually constitutes an appointment with a working girl. These men can then pretend to themselves that they are getting what they want - even if it is just for an hour. And by paying for it, it helps to maintain the charade that all they want is a shag.
Keeping up these appearances can be tiresome, however, and it seems to be quite common for men to have difficulty sustaining an erection when faced with casual sex. The journalist may have thought and said that he wanted a quick shag, but his flaccid penis was telling a different penis was telling a different story - and a cock never lies.
Having sex with these men is enjoyable - in the physical sense - usually they are highly skilled in pleasuring a woman, due to their own emotional connectedness, or learned techniques with a partner. But in a one-night-stand, their love-making form of sex becomes reduced to just a physical gesture that has no meaning; something that bears only a faint resemblance of real closeness and intimacy. So sex with these men is ultimately unfulfilling - when you want to be fucked hard and with abandon, they want to cuddle up and lie in your arms: it is clear that there is a problem."
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Abby Lee, now outed, is one of the most prolific "sex bloggers" out there today. The entry above is dedicated to her; without reading her book I would not be publishing this entry.
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