Saturday, October 31, 2009


It was suppose to be a week's get away with my wing man at the beaches near Costa del Sol. For the price the apartment was surprisingly nice - spacious, quiet, central location, and rather new. The supermarket was a block away, like any supermarket, fully stocked with booze, which was rather cheap in terms of pesos.

The beaches was torture. It was full of teenage girls, topless, sitting shoulder to shoulder. You could hardly find an empty spot on the free beaches. The nightlife was not a lot better. It was full of people inside the discos, and outside the plazas. You could pick a quiet place to sit down but you would be surrounded by people doing the same.

But we were fine. We went there for the nothingless, and we managed to go out even less than we expected. We weren't too much over aged (:cough), but we never fit in with those crowds, at "home" or abroad.

We took a day trip to Barcelona but we liked it too much that we stayed there for a day or two. The red light district, which is also a tourist district, is full of outdoor restaurants, cafes, tasteful or tasteless shops. There was a block full of hookers even in day time. If you picked one, you could just walk up the stairs right there. The day time shift could not be too bad looking, at least for the top dogs. One sexy housewife dressed in white like a Greek goddess. She tried to talk to me but I turned her down in front of all her colleagues. I should had been more polite. She looked away the next time I walked pass.

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There were even one or two model like or teen model like girls hanging around, in decent but trendy dresses, totally out of place. But I thought they might be tourists or locals having fun pretending, or playing dare with their friends.

But we weren't staying in Barcelona for that (:cough). We both scored earlier in our own sort of way. Back in the beach, while I was sunbathing face down on the sand at a remote corner. A few local chat up artists tried to chat me up. Unfortunately they were boys, thinking that I was a shy tourist girl who hid at a corner to get rid of the top and bikini lines. I had my rock star hair then. I knew many girls wanted my legs. Years later many hookers still wanted my waist. After I discovered my foot fetish I also discovered that my toes are rather outstanding.

While sitting on a bench in a plaza crowed with people at night, the girl next to my wing man spoke to him briefly. Later I asked him what she said. He said she offered him sex for money. He was to shy and too righteous to take up the offer. He needed a devil like me to tell him to do things at his ears. He was a strong fit man in good shape and decent looking, though might be considered one of the ugly toads. He looked like he hadn't scored in ages, but he looked loaded and he probably was.

I was walking alone at night around the narrow side streets, losing myself in the crowd. I also had the habit of checking out the sleazy part of town whenever I visited a city center, mostly due to work. When I got to a drinking place, I saw a tall and slender, fully grown woman by the door, probably taking a breath of fresh air. Her dress wasn't hooker like, modest but tight and colorful.

I looked at her in a friendly way, hoping that she was interested in me or she was game. After all, the place wasn't the most classy nightclub. People inside only bothered about drinking and talking. People outside only bothered about getting around the narrow streets. Nobody bothered or noticed what we were doing. Her attractiveness overcame my shyness. I used my head to say "let's go". She used her eyes and smile to ask me if I was mistaken - she was no angel. I was certain she was game and off we went.

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She took me to a hotel among the narrow streets. I thought it was sleazy but it wasn't, perhaps just specialized for short term stays. At the busy and almost non-existent lobby, we met an eye catching couple who also got a room. The guy was tall, dark and handsome, like a bullfighter in a Tango suit. The woman had a sparking dress and a pair of nice full legs, and much else. The couple was like coming right out of "dancing with the stars".

After we did it, she took the effort to chat with me via my Spanish phrase book. She was one of the flamingo dancers in the joint and would like me to return to watch her perform. It could be fun but I couldn't imagine how I fit in with those crowds. I wasn't sure I would want to do it again over there as it was heat of the moment.

One day I was still out in the streets at dawn. It was the time all the phantoms came out. The pretty tree-lined tourist area turned into a nightmare zone, as busy as day time. Instead of tourists, there were the late shift hookers, the bottom of the pack that you don't normally come across, their boyfriend, their pimps, the cleanup crew who aren't normally looking looking enough to get a job at other times. But after a minute or two, I realized that they were all enjoying themselves for the short time they had got. Some winding up their work day while others were preparing to start work. They were behaving no different from the day time tourist lovers, like old couples watching the day goes by. But the difference was that, you wouldn't want to see their face or their outfit clearly.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

I was a porn star!

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We, a gang of backpackers, went to see a sex show in one of the larger tourist joints. (The red light districts are blocked in Google street view.) Assuming that we were all crazy and uninhibited, three of us got picked onto the stage for the opening performance. We were to eat a banana in turns, half embedded from a female porn star's pussy. It was to stupid to do that when the stage was surrounded by a hundred people, and she didn't turn me on at all. Immediately I ran to the back of the crowd and into something like an exit in the dim light. It was just an locked emergency exit but I thought I was safe.

She didn't lose sight of me and ran straight to me almost naked. She told a bouncer guy to lift me up by his arms and marched me back to the stage with my feet dangling in the air. I was much lighter without the beer belly and love handles back then.

My guys offered me the first bite of the banana, so I did it with my eyes closed. After three bites, the banana was apparently gone. Then she popped the remaining chunk out of her pussy into the air. That was just the opening act.

But that was the end of my porn career.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Where was I?

Once upon a time, I exited at a tube station at the fringe of Central London. I noticed that many business cards were left at the telephone area inside the entrance of the station. That was perfect for a shy and adventurous person. I hardly knew any person but still I was afraid that I would ran into some friends in central London.

When I had the chance I went to the station again, arriving just after dark. I went to the telephone area to make a call, saving the embarrassment of entering a telephone box full of sleazy business cards.

With my head 12 o'clock dead straight ahead, I tried to move my eye balls as far sideways as possible, glancing at any number I could found. The woman who answered the call had a nice young voice, but laughed at me for not knowing where her street was. Most working girls there worked on that street.

Unlike other streets around, this one was completely dead and quiet right after dark. It was a normal side street, very roughly 100, 200 meters long and straight, with just enough space for parking at both sides. I remembered that I have to climb a flight of long stairs. The door was huge like that of a castle, and there was nothing at the door for cover. I was sure that the whole street could see me when I rang the doorbell.

Before that a more than 6-ft tall bobby walked pass me face to face, complete with imposing full winter uniform, helmet, and a cape. He walked slowly as if he was trying to help while I was looking for the right street number. I knew it was a deterrent and sarcasm of sort but I wasn't brave enough to turn back. I turned away from him, walked up the stairs as if nothing happened, pushed the doorbell and prayed that someone please open the door to save me from embarrassment.

On another such rare occasion, possibly at the same station or not, I used the same technique to spot and memorize a number. The place was crowded, and without the privacy of a phone booth, I was going to a quiet street corner to use my mobile. I pretended that the call at the public phone didn't get through, by pressing some buttons repeatedly in frustration. Unfortunately the button was a 9. I hanged up and walked away, but I could still hear that the dispatcher was asking the caller to response. The urgency got higher by the seconds as I was walking away.

ps After touring Soho via Google street view, I concluded that the flats with working girls are in the areas where street views are abruptly blocked off.

Sunday, October 04, 2009

What escorts wouldn't wear?

Once upon a time I revisited a London girl only to find that her flat was temporarily rented to a new girl. I knew my favorite uniform was still in the house but this girl tried everything to avoid wearing it. Then I understand that it wasn't fresh from the laundry, and she had no idea of where it had been. I'm not talking about dirty laundry here.

If it was the girls' clothes, they wouldn't want me to ruin it or make it dirty. If it was gift from me, they want to keep the clothes in a pristine condition, and wanted no trauma to associate with it. Not what I'm talking about.

Girls don't wear it because they know it wouldn't fit or it wouldn't look good on them. That's not what I'm talking about.

Other than those reasons above, quality lingerie and quality dress is usually welcomed. I don't know about how much is the resistance to trashy clothes - sex shop lingerie and street walker outfits. It would be fun but I never asked because uniforms I think are less risky of rejection.

After the gas station incident, I asked mrs player to put on an office suit and high heels that night. It turned out that the skirt was much longer that I expected, as you can see in the picture I posted to my plurk. But it didn' t matter because I was all ready to make porn.

She had been filmed totally naked, in lingerie, and uniforms that I brought all the way from Japan. But this time when I rolled up her skirt, all hell broke loose. It was something like that she didn't want to be treated like a hooker.

It was really hell. I was lucky that I could sleep in my own bed that night.