Hookers I Have Known

[CER]

Author's Preface

Goddesses, Divine Beings, Ministering Angels and Objects of Worship;  or alternatively, Trollops, Strumpets, Jezebels, Sluts and Whores;  what's the difference, I love them all.  Whether it's because bad is good, and wicked is even better;  or whether they offer an irresistible gift to mankind for which they truly deserve our love, is no matter.  Fair enough, I'm a romantic;  I need to make love where some other men just need to unload.  I'm a natural cuckold, there is nothing lost that's shared with a friend (nor indeed with a deserving stranger).  If a woman I'm holding in my arms has an orgasm or a decent imitation of one, for someone else, it is just as thrilling as the ones she has for me.  I'm a realist,  women need to be made feel safe and secure, loved and appreciated, and properly rewarded.  And I suffer from this dreadful, dangerous, debilitating psychiatric disorder,  called Knight on a White Horse Syndrome:  it mostly debilitates my wallet;  but coming to a woman's rescue, being able to help her out, is a matter of personal satisfaction for me.  Sadly I can't be responsible for them all, it's just not possible there are too many, and equally sadly, there are some who seem to be beyond help.

When it comes to writing, I generally find it hard work, mostly because it usually requires too much arduous research.  When I found myself writing pretty (if racy and obscene) narratives for pictures of hookers down-loaded from the Internet, it was just so, so easy.  I had held, or been privy to all these conversations before, it just flowed out of me;  like diarrhoea!  Longer pieces followed, and reworking of Dictionary Definitions of terms such as Swinging, Dogging, Cuckolding, etc. (just because some people had different ideas about what they meant).  

For some time I had been writing seriously about ancient history;  how women used to have a much higher profile in society and there was no fetish about virginity and constancy because no one had any understanding of the sexual physiology of fatherhood.  How, following the discovery of paternity by the first farmers, the creation of personal property amongst the elite, men found a need for inheritance;  to know for certain whom their sons were.  This led to the subjugation and enslavement of women over little more than the last few thousand years, enshrined in new religious ethic.  Despite the modern freedoms in the West, we are living with  the aftermath of this malign Monogamous subjugation today.  Men's bad behaviour is winked at, women's similar behaviour still has them shamed as sluts.  Even violent rapists excuse their behaviour by blaming their victims for the way they dress or conduct themselves.  

Far better that we abandon the new patterns of behaviour from the last few thousand years, and skip back to the preceding  half million;  during which women's freedom, sexuality and fertility saw them as glorious heroines, firmly in charge of the camp-site or settlement, even if the men were always in control of hunting, fighting, trade and politics.  We need to go back to the days when women were real women.  They could roar across the barley field, or vineyard, or mountainside near naked;  drunk on wine, high from chewing ivy leaves, ripping up saplings in their path, seizing small animals and tearing them apart with their bare hands and licking the blood off their fingers.  Chasing down the men, throwing them on their backs, raping them, leaving them for dead and chasing down the next.  Occasionally a man might get torn limb from limb as well.  Happily society in the West is progressing;  you can see most of the glorious events listed above on a Saturday night as the clubs get out!  Monogamy has been successfully regressed to Serial Monogamy.  Hopefully marriage will return to that more civilised form of Polygamy, Polyandry, where women can have more than one husband.  The whores have already gloriously taken up the baton, and are taking great strides in the Polyandrous cause, where individual women are sexually servicing and being financially supported by groups of men, despite being vilified by our present specious and unequal society.

I feel the need to explode the personal relationship myths about fidelity, constancy, cheating and jealousy.  None of these significantly affected our distant human ancestors for half a million years, nor the hominids or primates for millions of years before that;  they are really not part of our evolved psych at all.  Male jealousy is a learned behaviour, men are taught from the cradle by the example of their fathers,  and after puberty by men in general, that their women must be kept in order and entirely subservient.  For a long time women could be murdered and mutilated out of hand for adultery, or just the suspicion that they were thinking about it;  there are places and societies where this still happens today.  The Polygynous side of Polygamy (what we tend to think about when we see the word Polygamy) where a man can have more than one wife to grind down and enslave is even more unspeakable that Monogamy.  

Female jealousy was created by women's recent dependence on her husband just for survival, her need to maintain a relationship with him however unpleasant, just to survive.  Abandoned women had no status in society, even when they were allowed to live.  Women have actually evolved (or de-evolved) over the last few thousand years.  Coming from a society where women could expect good, satisfying, orgasmic sex with her lovers and one-night-stands;  today about a third of women never have an orgasm.  About a third have orgasms occasionally, not always for penetrative sex;  and only about a third have orgasms during most encounters and even then not all of them are multi-orgasmic.  This is as a direct result of the women who enjoyed sex and wanted more, being the ones who tended to be murdered.  It was mostly only those who gritted their teeth and put up with it, to keep getting pregnant, who got to breed on.

So why not write some sort of autobiography, I know my subject within the bounds of my personal experience;  I've been there, done it all (or most of it) and got the clap to prove it.  My first task is to protect the identity of my characters;  carefully fudging the exact geographical locations of events will be necessary to ensure that.  I started by googling a baby-naming site and came up with alphabetical lists of names,  none of which were real names of anybody I had ever had a relationship with or even knew.  I then went to the extreme of using the names alphabetically in the text to emphasise that they were false (and to make the growing text more manageable prior to eventual pagination).  My story is substantially true, there is only one real composite character amongst them all;  a few stray details from unspecified relationships may have been added to those with named characters to preserve those details in the story.  There are no real flights of fantasy, if the girl named didn't do it, one of the others did!

© This story remains the copyright of the author.  It shall not be downloaded copied or published wholly or in part by any other person for financial gain.  Any private download or copy shall include attribution to the original author and source.

C.E. Radclyffe

 

 

 

Aileen

When I was a student I spent a long lazy summer term with this girl.  I met her not long after the term began quite by chance one evening walking along the sea front.  It was getting late;  there was this group of eight guys sitting partly out of sight, sheltered under the pier, and no one else about.  She was in the midst of them, on her back being fucked.  I talked to one of the guys, they still had some beer left, but they'd run out of cigarettes and none of them had any money.  By the time I left, the girl was astride another guy, fucking him in turn.  I walked two hundred yards to a corner shop and bought forty fags just before it closed and returned to the pier.  

My largess with the cigarettes went down well, I was offered a swig from one of the last cans by a guy who was refreshing himself after just being fucked by the communal slut, who by now was doing another guy.  Fucked again, and after a cigarette she got to me and opened my pants.  Her skirt was half way up her back, her top was pulled up off her tits.  Her pussy was hairy, sticky, wet and slack, with spunk running out of it.  A quick suck and she was impaled on my cock and was fucking me and kissing me.  That pussy was such a beautiful place to be in;  I came very quickly.  In the few moments holding her in my arms with my cock still buried in her I told her how beautiful she was, told her how I'd love to have her again, perhaps in the comfort of my own flat.  Those were the important words, she took them in.  I had my own flat!  They were all set to sleep rough under the pier, and after doing three other guys she got back to me.  Any chance of going back to my flat for the night, could she have a bath and wash her hair, maybe get a chance to wash her clothes.  She told me that her name was Aileen.

She bathed and washed her hair, washed a few things and hung them up and slept the night with me: we didn't get much sleep.  Next morning she ironed her top and I took her out for breakfast, bought her cigarettes, spare knickers and a new skirt and top.  I persuaded her that she didn't need to wear a bra at all!  After a long walk around we failed to find the eight guys, apparently the police had moved them on.  She didn't seem to care, she'd only met them in the pub the previous night.  

I'm amazed today that as a student I didn't even know that the town had a red-light district, but she suggested that she go down and make herself a bit of money as it started to get dark.  I was fascinated and went with her, dutifully buying her a pack of three Durex on the way (it would be a long time before we learned to call them condoms).  She stuffed them in her pocket, thanked me and said “That'll mean I won't miss out on any of the sissies who insist on using them”!  I watched her go with four guys in their cars for about twenty minutes each and take one walk-by up a dark alley for about ten.  She waved the unopened pack of covers at me laughing, and I kissed her and gave her a quickie against the wall in the alley;  I just couldn't keep my hands off her, or my cock out of her.  We went to the pub, I only let her pay for one drink.

She stayed with me for the rest of the term, I missed quite a few lectures and my exams went rather badly, but it was worth it.  I more or less kept her, she paid for her own cigarettes, occasionally paid for a meal or a drink, bought lots of clothes and stupid things which she regularly abandoned or gave away to casual acquaintances, and bought me a few silly presents.  I never took a penny from her.  She usually did one punter on a night out, just occasionally four or five or six.  We met guys in the pub who we invited back to the flat, maybe once or twice a week and generally she didn't charge them anything.  I was becoming seriously addicted to having sex with her after other men and getting their sloppy seconds.  She was the first girl I licked another man's spunk out of;  and she gave me my first dose of the clap!

You must remember in those far off days all the girls were supposed to be on the pill, there were no DNA tests, and penicillin cured everything.  The hospital's Special Clinic 13B was Dickensian by modern standards;  we were told off by a consultant who wagged his finger and ranted like an old fashioned school master about our being promiscuous;  and we were expected to abstain from sex and alcohol for six months!  We each separately, in our segregated sides of the clinic told him that we were a couple, were being treated for the same condition and would resume our normal relationship as soon as we were both symptom free,  he wasn't pleased!  We were fucking again within days, didn't invite any friends back for nearly three weeks;  but it didn't stop her doing punters from the outset and laughing at the surprise she might be giving them!

I really was head-over-heels in love with her for the whole of the time we were together.  I loved her for just who and what she was;  a carefree, careless, hippy slut, a public prostitute and gang-bang whore.  I loved her excitement and enthusiasm for sex with friends and random strangers alike.  I loved her pulling guys, collecting sloppy seconds, and the taste and smell of sex and sweat and spunk when I made love to her.  I loved taking her out in little short revealing summer dresses, no underwear, knickers stuffed in her bag only to be worn post-coitus to prevent her leaking spunk on the dress, the upholstery or down her leg.  I loved all her sleazy sordid encounters with punters on the way to the pub.  I loved her kissing, flirting with, and being felt up by everyone there.  I loved her bringing guys home to the flat to join us in bed.  I even loved her giving me the clap! I was proud to walk her into the clinic hand-in-hand, and the way she dealt with the consultant.

Towards the end of term there was this one guy she really fancied and ended up seeing every night.  He was older, self-employed, had a car, his own house with a discrete back entrance, and a phone.  He brought all his mates around to fuck her.  He was just as addicted to her being a dirty girl as I was;  loved her being a whore, loved her being messy.  A few days from the end of term we carefully moved her in with him lock stock and barrel.  I gave her presents and he had business cards printed for her so that she wouldn't always have to trawl the street for punters.  Still she promised me she would always be a dirty girl and would never give up pulling in the street, at least occasionally, just for me.  I went home for the summer;  I had no choice in the matter.  From a few hundred miles away I kept in touch by phone, I mostly got to talk to him.  Shortly before my return all I could get was the “unobtainable tone”.  Back in town, someone else was moving into his house, there was no trace of them;  they had left no forwarding address.  Despite all my efforts I never succeeded in tracing them.  I never heard from either of them again.

 

 

 

Bella

Back in school for another year now without Aileen.  Facing living in digs again having given up my flat;  I had been so lucky to get it the previous year, I'd hoped to be as lucky again and didn't undertake to pay the rent all summer to keep it.  My best bet being a mature student Adam and his wife Bella who had acquired a large house and took in lodgers to help pay Alan's fees.  Alan was forty, Bella thirty-two and beautiful, she worked part time as a hotel receptionist and had done some modelling in Canada in the past.  No details of her modelling career except that she did a few television ads for a tobacco company;  she later told me it was mostly glamour work and soft-core porn!  Two of their lodgers had fucked Aileen in my flat the previous year and took me aside and made me promise never to tell anyone for fear of offending Adam and Bella.  This was when they finally told me that Bella regularly fucked all her lodgers with Alan's knowledge and consent!  They had a vacancy and I was lucky enough to beg my way into it with the help of my two indebted sponsors.

We all got hugs and kisses, right under Adam's nose, as well as behind his back.  When the five of us lodgers departed to bed we left the pair in the sitting room.  I was aware of noises around the house after I went to bed, it sounded like sex.  Finally it was in the bedroom above mine and there was no mistaking it.  She must have only spent fifteen or twenty minutes in each of the four upstairs bedrooms before I heard her on the stairs.  She slipped into my room, dropped her flimsy dressing gown and slid into my bed.  She was wet and sticky and had an amazing shaved pussy, my first.  She spent twice as long with me;  but then I spent half that time licking out her sticky spunky cunt.  When she was done with me, she left the room naked carrying her dressing gown.  I turned out my light and left the door open a couple of inches and got to see her being kissed and felt up by Adam in the hall before they disappeared into their ground floor back bedroom.  This was the perfect household, the perfect domestic arrangement, I had really fallen on my feet;  and there was more.

Bella particularly liked me, I was domesticated, kept my room tidy, made my own bed, washed dishes and helped in the kitchen;  and I licked her out at length, which I gather Alan did, but the other four neglected:  we agreed that they needed to be educated.  Occasionally she would pick one of us and fuck publicly on the sitting room hearthrug with the rest of us as an audience.  When I was honoured with a turn she had a crescendo of orgasms as I licked her, and the guys soon caught on, they were all prepared to lick her out when she was clean and pristine, only Adam and I liked her pussy dirty!  I would occasionally come home early, or make a pretence of missing a boring couple of lectures to do revision or make up notes.  When I did I generally got to have her in hers and Adam's bed.  This is when I discovered what she did during the day apart from her couple of shifts as a receptionist and housework.

Bella was pulling punters who chatted her up at hotel reception.  Sometimes she would do them in their rooms after her shift, these were the nights she came home late and Adam made dinner.  The best ones were awarded with her phone number and came to visit her at home during the day.

She was making serious money, which went a long way to explain their lifestyle, holidays and the sports car.  I first found out when I was home during the day and was unceremoniously bundled into my room and told to stay there until she came and got me.  I got to have her afterwards, wallow in the sticky aftermath, and was sworn to secrecy.  Of course Adam knew all about it, but the other lodgers must never be told.  I faithfully kept everybody's secrets!

We all lived in this idyllic style for nearly all of the autumn term when Bella was fired from her job in the hotel and the police came and interviewed us all.  We poor innocent students knew absolutely nothing about anything;  but within a couple of days we were finding digs elsewhere.  The house was cleared and Bella and Adam disappeared from the jurisdiction before any action could be taken, we think they went back to Canada. 

It was several weeks before I found a flat of sorts to take me through to the end of my course in the summer.  I made do mostly with working girls from the red light district.  Met a few of Aileen's punters who were still desperately hopeful of coming across her in the street;  and got another dose of the clap just after Easter.  Sadly none of the girls were worth writing about.

 

 

 

 

Cathy

Back at home, education complete, I quickly discovered our local red light district;  but it was a couple of months before I had a job, a car and finally a flat.  The girls I knew before were younger and had serviced the town, the students and the tourists, many were students themselves.  At home there was a wider age-range and they serviced the town and the docks, they charged less, but were just as dirty.  The whole sordid scene covered a little crossroads between four small blocks, fronted by three disreputable pubs.  There were at least three even more disreputable pubs deeper in docklands that nobody with any sense went near them because they had a reputation for drunken brawls every night.  Walk-throughs got serviced in a dark blind-alley deep in the crossroads, a pub toilet, and in a disgustingly dirty little house with an outside toilet and a commode in the bedroom, presided over by a dreadful old hag;  about seventy yards away.  Drivers took girls to a series of convenient car parks and to two rather cleaner houses where a room could be used.  A second, slightly more upmarket district still existed near the main railway station and it's adjacent hotels (this secondary area was to take over many years later, but only when most of the first was largely demolished).  

There was a remarkably large number of working girls, though only a few worked more-or-less every night.  In those days when most wage earners got a cash pay packet;  Friday was always the busiest night (a bit like the end-of-the-month is today).  Fashion and free love hadn't just reached the high-falutin cities and university towns, it had reached the provincial centres as well.  In good weather there were high boots, short skirts, long legs, cleavage and skin clearly on display in the shadows,  and in inclement weather, it was displayed when they opened the front of their coats to passers-by for inspection.  Even then some punters went so far down market as to pick-up women who looked old enough to be their grandmothers for quickies up the alleyway just for the price of a drink;  these women hung around so they must have been getting some business, though the other girls tended to treat them as charity cases.

One has to be selective picking up girls on the street;  good looks and a pretty dress are not the most important criteria, certainly not the only ones.  Watch the girls, time how long they are away with a client.  For many of them the perfect punter is someone who sees sex as no more romantic than clearing their rifle before going off duty;  they are only there to unload and get away as quickly as possible.  If the girl is only away for eight or ten minutes the poor guy may have come in his pants on the way to the car park, you know she's not worth a pull. Even for fifteen, you know it will have been,  “don't do this;  don't touch that;  no kissing;  leave my nipples alone;  stick it in;  pull it out;  drive me back;  goodbye”!  Those who like that sort of thing should find a glory-hole, stick their dick through the hole in the wall for an anonymous blow-job, who cares if is an old granny or a guy!  Half an hour is a good time for a quickie in the car;  a girl who stays that long is worth pulling, once at least.  This much had already been part of my education

My first trawl of the red-light district was the day I got my car on the road.  It was midweek and early in the evening, there were only three or four girls around at any one time, maybe ten altogether.  I was desperate enough to pull the prettiest on the first pass.  She was all business, in the car, one kiss, brief suck, she put the cover on herself, efficiently;  and had herself back on parade in twenty minutes.  That cured me of my desperation and I observed the scene for a while.  There were a couple of girls I fancied but I didn't get to them quickly enough and they got whisked away by some other guy from under my nose.  There was this one girl who I'd seen flash her tits at a passing driver, who got into a car and spent about five minutes snogging the driver before going off with him.  She was away for three quarters of an hour.  As they parked up and had another snog, I pulled in behind them.  Another car pulled in front;  when she got out onto the footpath she looked at both of us, gave me a big wave and went off with the other guy.  It was nearly an hour before she got back.  They pulled in directly behind my car;  after a few minutes kissing she got out, came straight to my passenger door, opened it and asked did I “want to do business?”  Her response to “how much?” was not excessive;  she told me her name was Cathy. (Prices charged by girls have been so affected by inflation over the years they would be meaningless today unless accompanied by details of average wages, housing and shopping costs of the period. £2 for a blow-job, £3 for sex in the car, £5 in a room, in my youth has to be the equivalent of £30, £40 and £60 today. There was no minimum wage in those days except for farm labourers that was £14 per week.  I had a degree, a job, no wife or kids, and only one hobby!)

We repaired to a house about half a mile away belonging to a retired old pro that everybody called “Ma”.  Several girls, including two of Ma's daughters brought their punters back there, some of the girls met regulars there by appointment without going down the town.  We had to wait about ten minutes for the room to be free.  Cathy was out of covers, I said that was okay but she swore me to secrecy, neither Ma nor any of the girls could ever know!  Great kisser, great sex, but we got a knock on the door to tell us our time was up while I was still giving her a post coital clean-up;  it wasn't just a matter of paying a little extra for another twenty minutes;  there were two couples waiting to use the room.  I kept seeing Cathy regularly, and we were stuck with either Ma's or the car until I moved into my flat.  Occasionally I pulled another girl when Cathy wasn't free, but none of them were nearly as good.

Cathy told me she was married, and her husband Ben knew what she was doing and always had to fuck her as soon as she got home, but thought she always used covers with clients.  Since she admitted to risking half a dozen regulars bareback, I asked if he never queried how wet and sticky she was.  She said he only ever had once or twice and she told him the last punter’s cover burst and he was all right with that; anyway she always got very wet.  So Ben was unemployed and baby-sat for her seven year-old daughter while she worked almost every night, and occasionally by appointment, during the day.  I was now seeing her at least twice a week in the flat and had no problem paying extra for her time so as not to be rushed.  She suggested that I might like a threesome with her and another girl, but it would have to be with covers so that no one found out she wasn't using them.  I got her to talk about all the rest of her punters and what she did for them, she loved actually having someone she could talk to about the guys she did bareback since she couldn't tell anyone else;  I offered to lick their spunk out of her to make sure she went home to Ben all clean and pristine!  This was when she told me that two of her regulars had separately approached her for a threesome with another man.  She had never been able to get them together at the same time, and Ma didn't seem to approve of that sort of threesome.  I suggested that she separately introduce them both to me, and we could use the flat.  I established that they weren't seriously bi, after-all my anus was designed for extrusion not for intrusion and I couldn't even comfortably take a finger tip up it.  We agreed that I would never get to see her punters pay her, and they wouldn't get to see me pay her either.  After they had left she could count up all her immoral earnings and I could rub the filthy lucre all over her and then make love to her all over again;  but no money would be seen to change hands in my flat.

After several months of great sex with a girl I adored, at least two good sessions a week and a threesome every weekend with one or the other of her punters, and a bit on the side with another girl just as often, which if she knew or heard about, she never mentioned;  she gave me the news, she was pregnant!  She suggested it might be mine, I agreed it might be, without bothering to mention the elephant in the room, the other six guys she was doing bareback, and asked her what she wanted to do.  Her initial response was to have an abortion, it was still illegal, would have to be performed by a well-known, alcoholic, general practitioner.  I asked her how much it would cost, and just gave her the money, after all that's what friends are for.  I didn't see her for a fortnight.  When she did see me it was to tell me that she hadn't had the abortion, Ben had got a good job and she'd bought him a car to allow him to take it.  Ben had accepted that the child was his (since she always used covers on all her punters!) she was quitting work altogether and moving down the coast to be nearer his job and a better school.  I dutifully gave her a hug and told her that I was delighted for her, just so long as she was happy.  She gave me a goodbye fuck.  

Later in the year I blagged my way into giving a girl Cathy knew a lift down the coast to see her new baby and the house.  Obviously the girl was the one who wanted to make the visit, I was just the reluctant driver hoping to impress her!  Both Cathy and the proud father had course jet-black hair and brown eyes;  the bouncing baby boy had soft blonde hair and blue eyes just like me (but not entirely impossible for the two of them).  I lost touch with them and never saw them again.  Many, many years later I entered the child's name on Facebook.  I came up with a male with the right name, right date of birth, living in the immediate area where Cathy and Ben were last known.  Ex army, separated with joint custody of a young child;  but no mention on his page of either parent or a sister seven years older than him.  He seemed to be doing well, but the identification was inconclusive, I didn't take it any further.

 

 

 

Diana

Picking up girls in town, I became fascinated with an illusive blonde.  I always seemed to spot her when she was walking around the outside of the block and not looking at passing cars, or when there was no where to park, and she was gone by the time I got around the block again.  Either that, or she was already negotiating with a punter when I pulled in;  she looked back at me a few times before driving off with the other guy, but I never seemed to be quick enough.  I would wait for her to do the other guy, then the same thing would happen all over again.  It went on for weeks;  finally I struck lucky.  She was walking purposefully past two of the pubs towards the end of one of the dark side streets that formed the little crossroads in the middle of the block, The Corner, as it was called.  I passed her and pulled in to the side-street and parked directly in line with her path, she turned into the street and walked past without apparently looking at me.  I drove past her and stopped again, leant over and opened the passenger side window.  She just opened the car door and got in!  “You haven't been having much luck picking me up, have you” were her first words.  “Well I hope I've been lucky this time” was my reply.  “Perhaps” she said as she wound the window back up.

She took me about a mile to a discrete spot beside the river, much farther than most of the other girls went for business.  She wasn't my first girl that night, so we had a really good, long drawn out fuck.  She had a seriously big orgasm followed by several more, and more again when I licked her out.  It turned out that she could have orgasms on her own, while playing around, and with another girl;  but this “pretty innocent” had never previously had an orgasm for penetrative sex with a man!  All her previous guys had either been too quick or too rough.  I was so lucky to have had the previous girl half an hour before, that was what slowed me down and allowed me to make such a big impression.  She agreed to see me early the following night at a phone-box well outside the red-light district.

The next night I was twenty minutes early;  she arrived ten minutes early;  don't you love good timekeepers! I do.  At her insistence we went right out of town.  The previous time she had used a cover, this time she didn't want to, I had no problem with that.  I started by licking her out, generated several orgasms, and managed to hold back sufficiently long to give one really good one before I came in her.  While she sucked me and we played with each other in preparation for the second bout, I had my first real conversation with her.  She was studying at the local university, and her boyfriend had got her started on the game to help supplement her grant after passing her around all his friends.  He had just started asking for money from her.  Tonight she had gone out early and avoided him.  Her record was eight guys in the one bed organised by the boyfriend, and it hadn't been as much fun as with me!  She wanted rid of the boyfriend and wanted to keep some of her regulars for the money.  He had an evening job and he hadn't stayed with her when she was working, so I suggested that I would squire her around, and she should try to see as many as possible away from the corner.  I said she should pick and chose her punters, only do the guys she halfway fancied, spend more time with them, and enjoy herself.  I told her that I'd never take a penny off her.

I wanted to keep her away from the corner because I didn't want her to catch me occasionally picking up other girls, but I needn't have worried.  She had never been phased by her boyfriend picking up girls, and getting her to join in if they were bi.  In the end I admitted to her having been the second girl I'd had on our first evening;  she just laughed and said she was glad that the other girl had got the quickie and she had got to have her first really glorious fuck.  We started using my flat nearly every night, maybe proceeded by a quickie in a car park after a punter or two;  and she would do three or four regulars in my bed.  Within a week we brought home a working girl she'd met and who was a lesbian at heart, after they had both fucked my brains out and I'd worn out my tongue, lips and jaw licking them,  I was sent to sleep on the couch while they stayed the night together.

 

 

 

Eve

One night Diana was staying with a regular who was potentially an all-nighter and I was out on the prowl, she had told me not to do anything she wouldn't do! (Usually my line.)  I parked the car and went into one of the pubs at the corner.  There was this slightly plump, frizzy-haired blonde called Eve who had obviously had a few drinks;  I'd pulled her at least twice before for a quickie in the car.  So I bought her another drink and she told me all her troubles, happily they were all financial,  nothing that lots of good dirty sex wouldn't solve!  She said that she needed either a string of punters or an all-nighter.  I suggested she should go for both.  It was just beginning to get dark, she could get a series of guys and do them in the back corner of the nearest car park, I could pick her up there after each one, give her a kiss and a lick (at least) and drive her back to find the next.  When the supply of men dried up around one or two o'clock, she could come back to my flat and stay the night.  Of course to make it really worth my while I would want her do them all bareback.  “You dirty pervert” she said, “When did I ever ask you to use a cover anyway,” (true she hadn't, that's why I knew I was on to a good thing) “I haven't got any with me, so I'll risk it all bare tonight, just for you.” This from a girl who never seemed to have covers any night she was out!

We walked out of the pub hand-in-hand and she started flaunting herself at passing motorists, I went and got my car and hovered in the background.  She pulled within five minutes, I followed them discretely to the car park, they disappeared behind parked cars at the far end, I parked just inside the gate and consciously thought of something else to keep from having a wank.  Within twenty minutes she was stepping out of his car into mine.  Back briefly to the dark end of the car park for five minutes;   kisses, a lick, slipped my cock into the last guy's mess, pulled it out, she sucked it, I got another kiss and a lick, and back to business.  She did eight punters that night, some were as quick as ten minutes, one took half an hour.  I got to taste them all and get my cock into her after every single one.  We went back to the flat at about one-thirty.  Our first fuck was desperately quick and explosive,  my second was better, long and slow, she was very responsive and kept coming for me.  I was collapsed in her arms when I heard Diana's key in the door.  Diana walked into the bedroom, sat on Eve's side of the bed and leant over her to kiss me.  She pulled the bedclothes back off me sufficiently to suck my limp sticky cock, told Eve how nice her pussy tasted and gave her a big kiss on the mouth.  I could feel Eve's relief, she had had no idea what to expect!  Diana stripped, and I got the bedclothes right back and Eve's legs up in the air before she dived face first in between them, like a ferret down a rabbit hole.  We regaled Diana to Eve's adventures that evening in every filthy sordid detail;  Diana barely came up for air to comment, except briefly to call Eve a “Filthy Dirty Slut”, and stick her tongue straight back into the evidence.  I got more kisses from both of them, when they weren't kissing each-other;  got to lick Diana and briefly fuck her, since she had brought me home her pussy all carefully and lovingly unwashed.  I don't even remember now why she got home early.  Too knackered to perform again, I was sent to sleep the sleep of the blessed on the sofa.  Four days later I was in pain, felt like I was pissing broken glass, we had a dose of the clap!

The local hospital's clinic was as primitive as the other.  An elderly consultant with a pink bald head just like the public school headmaster who had taken a cane to me, haranguing us about the dangers of promiscuity!  The problem of getting a dose, is not the treatment, the humiliation, or having to inform people who you may have given it to or got it from.  (Eve was not a happy bunny when we called at her home in person with the news.)  It's the friends you loose.  Three of Diana's punters, including two who did threesomes with us, took it like men and came back for more;  five cut her off and never returned, the rest didn't seem to be affected.  Eve must have been our source since only Diana's guys post Eve were affected and Eve lost most of her clientele.  I still thought that it was a gloriously thrilling, dirty little bit of heaven that I would not have missed for the world.

After losing five clients, being briefly out of business, and a close encounter with a police patrol down at the corner, Diana and I both thought it was time to rethink sourcing punters on the street.  I paid the deposit and first months rent on a two bedroom house for her in the next street to my flat, which backed on to the same alleyway for bin collection as mine;  our back doors were twenty feet apart, and we got a phone installed in her house though she kept most of her stuff in mine;  this covered meeting regulars.  Diana took on three evening shifts a week in a massage parlour, with an eye to poaching just a few good clients.  

Massage parlours offered topless and nude massages and hand-relief, but there was no stopping some of the girls who worked in them.  An open fire was kept going in all weathers in the girls sitting room, where they drank coffee and gossiped while waiting to go out into reception to be chosen by a client;  this was used to burn the evidence, the paper bench covers and the tissues both of which got used to mop up spunk.  The fire could also be used to burn used covers and their wrappers.  The ingenuity used to hide covers, secret pockets sewn into clothes and handbags, etc.,  would have surprised even the escape committee in a prisoner-of-war camp;  but then as we knew, the best way to conceal them was not to bother to use them at all.

And, which unemployed, destitute, trollop who had lost all her punters, turned up to work in the massage parlour and become Diana's sister-in-sin, why Eve, of course!  Eve hadn't really learned her lesson, but she was occasionally a little bit more careful with strangers.  The two of them wasted quite a few covers learning to put them on me with their mouths!  It was great fun just sitting in the girl’s room, seeing them parade out to be picked for a massage;  listening to them talk about the punters.  Diana and Eve generally did all the two-girl jobs.  All the girls were happy to do oral on the punters at least.  Some of them, including Diana and Eve, would talk openly about fucking them;  Eve and one other girl would talk garrulously about risking it bareback for a few pounds extra.  The girls were all very supportive of each other until one of them was out of the room;  then they ran the absentee right down into the dirt, saying what a dirty slut she was.  Eve and her friend seemed to be their favourite targets;  if only they'd known Eve's recent history!  They were never prepared to run Diana down when I was there;  I teased them about it, told them it was their sisterly duty to tell me what a dirty slut she was!  They were all fascinated that we kissed and hugged after every punter she had, and didn't believe that I would lick her out after, not until we gave them a demonstration.  One rather slack shift Diana came back into the room with what must have been a record amount of money for one guy.  She waved the cash in the air, announced how much it was and that she'd “Done the dirty fucker bareback for it”.  I gave her a big kiss and licked her out there and then, for everybody else's benefit as well as our own.  I dropped my pants and she sat astride me on a chair and fucked me.  Eve immediately hugged us both and her friend joined in as Diana had a series of orgasms and I shot my load into her.  I insisted that they had to all tell her what a filthy slut she was, they did, even if it was just for me;  Eve was the best, she foul mouthed her so well, I could feel that she had grown horns, cloven hooves and a tail by the time I blew my load.

The massage parlour successfully provided Diana with her new regulars to see at home, and I still pulled at the corner occasionally.  If I found a girl I liked, who'd spend a bit of time, and told me she was bi, we'd go out and pull her together.  Diana would negotiate with her, beat her price down, but she could be generous with my money;  like me, she would always pay the girl what she originally asked for or a little more, whatever pittance she'd beaten her down to in the negotiation.  Sometimes I ended up on the sofa again for the night, but always well fucked first.  During the succeeding months we managed to get two more doses of the clap without loosing too many friends;  surprisingly we never got another dose after that, I don't know why, it wasn't as if we weren't trying hard enough!  We more or less kept to this pattern until Diana graduated, and for a few months until she found a job.  Reviewing both her finances and mine we were really quite well off.  We moved out to the suburbs and still kept a flat in town for our more disreputable encounters.  The massage parlours were abandoned and we never met Eve again.  The number of paying regulars thinned out but still paid, Diana just didn't have the heart to dump some of them, and I wanted her to never stop being a whore.  We used the flat mostly for the odd girl I pulled, or whom we pulled together, and for first meetings with strangers, who Diana pulled just because she fancied them.  This is when we looked farther afield for people to meet, socialise with, and fuck.  

 

 

 

Swinging

A new local top-shelf magazine appeared, which contained a four page centre pull-out of contacts for swinging.  Following a public campaign, most newsagents stopped selling it at about the same time that the local papers stopped allowing massage parlours to advertise.  But we followed the advise on their editorial page which was accompanied by an obscene photo of a girl sticking a rolled up magazine up her twat, and paid to have it shoved in our box in a plain brown envelope by the postman.  We were later to submit dirty stories to it for publication;  all true!.  

We felt that answering adverts left our postal address more open to abuse by strangers most of whom we would never meet, and an accommodation address was only going to be a nuisance, so we decided it was best to advertise ourselves.  This meant that only the magazine had our address at the outset, and we could chose who we replied directly to or phoned.  In any one publication there were virtually no ads for single girls, only about eight or nine for couples and the rest were single guys.  So we put in three ads, one as a single girl seeking men and couples, one for a couple seeking couples and one for a couple seeking single men;  we were determined to cast a very wide net and not miss out on any real possibilities for a little good sordid sex!  

We got a phenomenal number of replies from single guys, so many that we placed an ad the next month thanking them all, saying them that she had to triage her mailbag, met two, put a few on hold, and shredded the rest after she'd read them!  We eventually met three couples out of eight replies, and about six single guys out of thirty.  The whole exercise was moderately successful and we repeated it a number of times over a quite long period.;  the only real problem were the complete idiots you occasionally met and the people who didn't turn up for meets.  But we were both used to dealing with idiots and time wasters, we just patiently wrote them off and moved on.  The single guys were mostly straightforward,  many had wives or girlfriends, we either liked them or we didn't, some were invited home, some never got past the first meeting in the flat, or pub.  

Couples were more complex.  There were the guys whose wives were always unwell and unable to meet at the last minute, the guys assumed we were only looking for couples and were trying to get in on the act on their own;  we'd have preferred that they'd been honest and would have met them anyway.  There were the couples whose relationship was on its last legs and were trying to use swinging to save it.  As like as not one had caught the other cheating and thought that allowing them to do it in a controlled environment, under their supervision would safely solve their problem with infidelity.  

There were the totally mismatched couples, the randy girl married to the premature ejaculator, the randy guy married to the girl who found penetrative sex distasteful, distressing and painful.  Actually we met both these two couples in the one week;  one of us had a great time, the other was very disappointed, as you would imagine.  But we did a good thing, we introduced the two couples to each other;  they met-up two or three times a week ever since.  One pair would go upstairs and fuck like maniacs;  the other pair would sit and cuddle, talk and watch television.  A couple of times during the evening the guy downstairs would head up to the bedroom, stick his dick in his wife, come in ten seconds, and leave them to it.  We got Christmas cards from them for years, and the randy guy used to call occasionally to see Diana on his own. 

Then of course there were the couples who weren't couples, they may have been married, but not to each other;  and the couples where the girl was an escort, paid to perform and to be the guy's passport to the foursome or party.  We didn't mind the escorts and whores even if other couples did, we'd been there and done that, and it was fun spotting them!  

But strangers in the public street, strangers in the pub or in a contact magazine were not the only places to meet people for sex.  We both had colleagues at work;  Diana scored more regularly there than I did, but I didn't do too badly.  I had always played the perfect gentleman card;  stand when a lady enters the room (stand when she leaves the table, stand when she comes back to it);  pull the chair back for her;  always open doors and car doors;  hold her coat;  Always come to her rescue: I have never found a suitable puddle and had a suitable coat to throw down for her to walk over, but damn-it I would do that too.  Then you just let the ladies make the running, and inevitably a few of them will jump on you!  My few bits on the side amongst friends apart, Diana's sneaky liaisons with co-workers, or even sneakier ones with co-workers' husbands were great fun, so much fun it really ought to become a completive sport and compulsory in every workplace.  She managed to fuck her best friend's and immediate superior's husband, not only in every room in our house, but in every room in theirs'.  One guy from work managed to marry and divorce three women in as many years with Diana on the side throughout;   very satisfactory threesomes with me, foursomes with his second and third, and Diana had threesomes with him and the third.  One enthusiastic swinging couple we knew got married and had a big wedding, we got to fuck them both on the day, in the bridal suite, after the ceremony but before they got at each-other, she kept her veil on for effect!  She got to fuck five of her best bits-on-the-side, and Diana happily gave them seconds after she'd done the groom.

 

 

 

Dogging

Some couples also went dogging, including ones who weren't real couples;  the ones who were married but not to each-other and were just together for sex, and the guys paying escorts and hookers to accompany them.  Dogging could very happily become our national sport.  It revolves around guys waiting at the best spots, car parks, paths and benches in national forests, and discrete public footpaths amongst others, hoping to find a couple to put on a show, and fuck publicly for them to watch.  The couples sometimes give advance notice of their intentions just to make sure of getting an audience,  the perverts all know each-other’s phone numbers and congregate when one of them spots something good going on.  The absolute Holy Grail is being invited to join in.  The guys masturbating outside the car while watching is just bog-standard;  getting to grope the girl, be wanked by her, be given a blow-job;  or best of all have her open her legs and fuck a random stranger with her doting partner holding her in his arms.  It really is all about the man passing his girl around and loving every minute of it.  Sometimes a guy will organise his friends to be there,  if it's dark the girl may not even recognise them, but more often than not the guys are random strangers, first come, first served.  And therein lies the thrill;  having that random stranger stick his cock into the girl you love;  and better still doing it in public with more random strangers watching.  Having the hands come into the car to grope her;  having her get out, naked or next best thing, to be handled and groped by everyone.  Have her bend over to suck a cock and have a guy she may not even have seen stick his cock in her.  Have her take it over the car bonnet.  Have her stick her business end out into the night as she lies in your lap in the back-seat with her feet up against the top frame of the door and take a random cock from the darkness outside, or more, one after the other.   Taking a girl dogging puts the couple at the centre of events, if you don't like what's happening you can just drive off and leave them all standing there with their dicks in their hands.  None of the guys know each other well enough to lie for them, so all the perverts are polite, ask permission and will take no for an answer,  and as I've said you can always drive away. 

Like swinging, there has always been an overlap between dogging and prostitution, only more so with dogging.  When the perverts have a bad night with little or nothing even to watch,  they will probably go down the town and pull a working girl to end their evening on a high note.  Likewise dogging is a service offered by many hookers.   With real couples, it is the couple who are in charge.  Paying a girl to accompany you dogging may put you partly in charge, but you will be told quite definitely by her what is acceptable and when to drive off, and you'll need to comply.  But the result is largely the same, you get to share a girl with other guys on your terms.  I suppose that makes you feel that you're the big guy passing your girl around, but the thrill of sharing a girl is much more visceral than that.  Whether I'm with a girl I'm head over heels in love with or whore I hardly know;  I can't stop myself from telling her how beautiful she is, even that I love her, maybe even beg her to marry me there and then;  as she impales herself on my cock with a big squelch and I've no idea who has donated the spunk inside her.  I mean every word of it at the moment I'm saying it!  

While there is a higher proportion of unprotected sex being perpetrated in swinging than on the street with prostitutes;  the proportion is even higher again in dogging scenarios.  When we're out dogging Diana loves leading the guys on, will talk laughingly about having had pregnancy scares after previous dogging exploits.  Tell them that she's not on the pill, not taking any precautions what-so-ever,  and we still beg them to come inside her, spunk her up, pump their muck into her.  The dirty fuckers trip over each-other to get at her, are just so keen to be in at the kill, to knock her up, it's unbelievable.  They are no longer just getting a convenient bit on the side to wile away an evening, they are seriously in rut.  We both loved the pregnancy risk effect, even if is all eyewash.  Some of the guys may keep their cars out of sight, not give us names or phone numbers, try to conceal their faces, but we love it.  Diana has even told them that it's her time of the month, she must be ovulating!  She wants more cock!

 

 

 

The Red Light District

During this time the town and the red light district was changing.  Containerisation had reduced the number of ships, sped up their turnaround; more crews were foreign nationals who never disembarked.  Sailor-town was diminishing, offices and apartment blocks began to replace it.  At least a quarter of the old area was redeveloped as a bus station;  one of the pubs was replaced with an office block.  Access was reduced. The remaining two pubs amalgamated;  and while they reopened with much publicity and a Vicars and Tarts party to revive the memory of The Corner, the glorious industry here, had died a death.  The old, slightly more respectable area near the Railway station and its adjacent hotels spread out into the surrounding streets and began to thrive again.  Mostly the same girls, but many new ones too.  Just like the old area, this was a place where many perfectly respectable couples could drive around on their way back from an evening out, carefully keeping all the car doors locked (this still pre-dated central locking).  “Oh My God, who would touch that with a forty-foot pole!”  “Look at her vomiting on the footpath, who on earth would let her into their car!”  “Oh, there's a pretty one;  she's getting into a car, check your watch.”  Twice around the block and eight or ten minutes later, “There she is again getting out of that car, who would pay for that”.  They always found it a great laugh;  a sort of down-market version of the official tours of Amsterdam's red light district.

The police had always make occasional raids and arrested girls and charged them with soliciting.  A small fine from the Magistrates Court the next day, and they were back that night to make the money to pay their fine.  This was a pointless exercise based on polices presided over by middle-ranking officers intent on punishing sinners in the old religious ethic.  The ordinary peelers knew all the girls, and expected discount prices for a fuck, but were powerless to change policy;  as often as not they were the ones forced to make the arrests.  One night a working girl was murdered in a car park;  everything changed.  There was never another arrest of a girl on the street apart from pimps and the occasional drunk.  The police deliberately worked with the girls for their protection, and to give them their due they finally caught and convicted the culprit.  A charity set up a sexual health clinic one night a week, right in the area.  

 

 

 

Felicity

One of the last couples Diana and I met were only a partial success as a couple. Felicity was horny, multi orgasmic, and gagging for the sort of attention she might have got from me, but wasn't getting from her husband Charlie.  He was a civil servant, absolutely fascinated by sex and everything that surrounded it, but neither a competent nor an appreciative sexual partner.  Diana didn't want to have any more to do with him;  I definitely wanted more of Felicity.  Within a week I had Charlie on the phone, he wanted me to help arrange a gang-bang for Felicity, for her birthday.  No problem I organised it and attended, Diana wanted nothing to do with it since Charlie would be there.  Felicity had five new guys that evening after she'd had a few drinks, sucked and  fucked four of them twice for everyone to watch, and took the shy guy up to a bedroom.  Charlie just sat and watched,  stuck his dick in her for a few lazy strokes, and let her get on with it.  I gather he didn't even give her a loving appreciative birthday fuck when they got home!  I arranged a repeat performance the next week with the same guys, with the exception of Charlie and the shy guy, for Diana and she had great time.  We blindfolded her, so that she lost track of whose cock was where, one in her pussy, one in her mouth, and one in each hand.  She got even more cock and spunk that night than Felicity had, we all managed to come three times!

I saw Felicity a few times on my own and occasionally with a few other guys,  I learnt that Charlie had a series of other women all of whom he paid for sex, and spent most of his spare time planning how to run brothels, and how to carefully keep within the law while doing so.  Felicity had worked part-time in a charity shop where the Magistrates' Courts had sent most of their convicted prostitutes to do a few hours community service when they were picked-up and fined.  She had got to hear their life histories with all the fun details and had recounted this all to Charlie, and now to me.  He had of course got to meet them all, invited them all home, and offered to fix them all up with flats to work from!  Charlie's main bit on the side was called Gemma, I had pulled her a few times myself, though I kept my distance now.  She was a good fuck, too good for Charlie.  She bragged about how much time she'd spent on her back to buy her car, and the string of tradesmen she could muster to service her car, washing machine, roof or whatever;  all paid in trade.  She liked being on top to control the angle and depth of penetration, and her orgasms made her look like that ghastly Norwegian painting, The Scream.  She got very flushed during sex, you could always tell when she'd had a fuck, from those lovely, glowing, rosy cheeks.  Charlie had Felicity going out and doing punters with Gemma, Felicity got paid and took him out to dinner after every one;  but the poor girl still never got an appreciative fuck from him afterwards.  Suddenly they fell off the radar, house was empty, phone was dead;  it was about three months before Felicity contacted me.  It turned out that Charlie had beaten her and thrown her down a flight of stairs;  their marriage was over, they were separated;  she had a new address and phone number on her own.  Now I got to hear more about Charlie;  he and all his friends were drunk, drunk driving, scheming, cheating, wife-beating bastards;  Gemma was thereafter only ever  referred to as Whore-bag.  I had no sympathy for Charlie, except for the cheating, we all do that even if it is only in our minds, and that's just as bad, and can be almost as much fun as doing it for real.  There is after-all a big difference between mere cheating and betrayal.  While calling poor lovely Gemma names was a bit rough, I went along with it to keep the peace.

Felicity started to find fault with each of the guys we were seeing, one at a time, and insisted we dump them.  She resisted our meeting new people for sex.  After I'd stayed overnight, I found she'd bought me a toothbrush, slippers and a dressing gown.  She bought me my favourite deodorant to keep in her bedroom, and, she sprayed her pillow with it on the nights that I wasn't there!  Diana had warned me, she was trying to tie me down, and since she probably suspected that on all the nights I wasn't in her bed I was in someone else's;  which of course I was, she wanted me to stay more often.  Fair enough, I'd put up a couple of shelves for her, had her gutters cleaned, planted a new hedge around her garden and cooked the occasional meal;  but I had no intention of being tied down to one woman, not ever.  It became clear that she wanted us to somehow become like those poor, sad, demented creatures we've always pitied;  she wanted us to become Monogamists!  Such a terrible prospect,  mankind was just not built for Monogamy, the human condition was never developed for it;  the whole idea was anathema to me.  Finally I engineered a situation where she told me to pack up and get out, I did.  I didn't beg to be let back which she'd depended on, and when she ended up begging me I successfully resisted.  It made me feel a bit better being able to say that she had thrown me out!  I was now free to see Gemma again, which I did a couple of times, and that finally ended the relationship when Felicity found out.

 

 

 

Heather

From the multitude of working girls available in the town there were a few exceptional ones.  There were these two ditsy blondes,  who I came across one night pissing in a flowerbed after they'd staggered out of a pub.  I pulled one for a quickie and she was seriously quarrelsome, I think she could have started a fight in a church.  I gave up on her and pulled the other.  Heather was good, she had my cock out and was sucking it while I was still driving, and pulled her knickers to one side so I could feel her cunt;  it had obviously had a good spunky seeing-to already that night.  I asked her who;  she just laughed, she had no idea who it had been.  Apparently the pair were best friends;  of the two of them, she was the one who kept getting pregnant and having terminations, her friend was the one who kept getting a dose!  She was a great fuck and totally up for having photos taken, photos of everything!  Dressed, undressed, sucking, fucking, full face, totally recognisable photos and no restrictions on what I could do with them or who could see them.  She just didn't care, even Diana expected her face to be obscured in dirty photos.  (In those days photos meant using a Polaroid  camera.)  She had a little flat where she worked from occasionally during the day;  and she said that her boyfriend thought she was just talking to men and giving them wanks, silly fool!  But then he thought that he was the father of her child!  Every Thursday evening she parked her one-year-old daughter with her mother, had a row with her boyfriend, threw him out and partied all weekend.  In town she pulled in the pub and the street and usually ended waking up beside some guy she didn't know;  I always had her during her wild weekends.  On Sunday she went for lunch with her mother, her boyfriend was always there;  every Sunday she made up with him again.  I knew that she'd made a carefully staged suicide attempt to get moved up the housing list and out of the estate she was in, since her neighbours were complaining about her;  that wasn't too bad.  But one Sunday the boyfriend refused to be reconciled, she took the child home, put her to bed, opened the cupboard under the sink, sat on the floor and drank drain-cleaner.  Quite by chance she had an unexpected visitor, she survived.  But that was beyond calculated, beyond being ditsy, that was dangerous.  I didn't see her again.

 

 

Irene 

There was a girl called Irene who started her career dogging just for the hell of it, usually with her partner, but just as often on her own.  She would drive seventy miles to check out the better spots around town.  When she went dogging she would drive around the four principal car parks, stop and talk to a guy (or two) in each, and just keep driving around in circles until she had built up a convoy of ten cars or more, still going around and around the circuit.  When she reckoned she had got everybody out that night, and the convoy really advertised her presence, she'd drive to a pitch dark deserted picnic site where one of the tables could be conveniently flood-lit by car headlights.  She could fuck ten or twelve guys on a rug on the table one after the other with half a dozen other voyeurs just there to watch.  Diana had done that many punters in one night, or that many guys at a party, but she never managed quite that many al fresco.  One of the regular perverts, everyone called him Woolly-hat since no one knew his name, told Irene that everyone would call her a whore now anyway, she might as well go into town and charge for it!  She did!  Woolly-hat showed her the ropes, all the best places, told her how much to charge, and offered to take fifty percent of her earnings.  That was the last she saw of him.  She arrived in town the next night with her partner, dropped him at the cinema, did five punters and picked him up again.  Woolly-hat was blown out entirely!  

When she was with her partner Dan, she would do a couple of house calls on her way into town, he'd go to the cinema and have a coffee until she was ready to pick him up and go dogging on the way home, where of course he got to watch.  When she was on her own the routine was much the same and he sat at home beside the phone.  Every guy who got into her car, she phoned Dan without fail and left the phone on the dashboard with the line open for him to listen.  Sometimes she brought punters or doggers back to their house.  

Dan would regularly raid her handbag before she went out and remove her condoms so she would do all her punters bareback, not just the ones who paid extra.  Their house was too far for me to conveniently drive to,  but from all the times I had her, we once picked him up from the cinema and went back to the flat.  We stripped, he sat fully clothed on an armchair and wanked.  She told us both in detail about the five or six guys she'd done while he was in the cinema.  After a really great, noisy, seriously orgasmic, very wet fuck,  I moved about a foot away from her on the bed.  Dan come over and got his cock sucked, gave her a quick fuck and retired to the chair, and I was straight in for seconds.  That was the night I discovered he raided her bag, he was a bit shy about it, but I told him it was the right thing to do, how beautiful it was to have her get all those bare cocks, how beautiful she was.  I even asked his permission to fall in love with her, he really liked that!  I had to turn the mattress on the bed that night (and other nights after she was there);  she was a squirter, a serious squirter;  this was why she only fucked in her own car and had half a dozen towels on the seat.  I met her with Dan by chance in a city centre shop one afternoon, and gave her a quickie in a changing room as Dan kept watch.

Irene was a fixture in town for some time.  Dan tried taking her to parties and holiday venues, but was always disappointed at how seldom she got fucked;  the street and dogging were much better value.  She eventually lost her driving licence for drunk in charge and stopped coming into town.  She married Dan, good for him, perfect sort of wife!  Continued to see punters at home and he took her dogging at more local venues, where it was a bit too far for me to drive just on spec.  A few years later rumours were heard of her at various venues, but never back in town.

 

 

Jade

There was this lovely university student called Jade.  (That name always amuses me, everyone thinks of jade as a pretty stone, not as a worn-out old mare, even though we still use the adjective jaded to mean worn-out of faded.)  She was being squired around by a would-be pimp who was hopeful of getting more than “petrol money” and a fuck.  I pulled her a few times, we usually ended up with a queue in one segment of a rather overgrown car park, with the punters and her pimp sitting in a row of cars with the windows open so we could all chat; while Jade went in each car in turn to an even more secluded spot further into the car park to do the business.  I met her quite a few times away from her pimp, dinner and overnight as often as not.  So I got to know her quite well.  She had had a drug problem due to taking a flat with a friend and finding a drugs stash under a loose floorboard.  They'd been high for about two months before it ran out!  He ended up in hospital, she ended up under a psychiatrist with panic attacks.  (Don't you love that expression, about someone who is sick;  she's under a doctor;  if she's really sick, she's under three doctors!)  I told her that she should just “close her eyes, hug her knees, and imagine she was somewhere safe”, when she asked just where I expected that to be, I said “In my arms”.  My attempts at psychiatry apart,  on the 29th February she asked me to marry her!  I knew she was angling for the traditional expensive present when I turned her down;  so I agreed!  I spent that sort of money on her anyway so she needn't have been disappointed.  After a couple of months and her pimp being too demanding she disappeared.  I saw her by chance in town a couple of years later.  She told me that her shrink had got on to the recent honours list for his services to Psychiatry, but I had largely cured her panic attacks.  She may just have been being kind, I would have been very flattered if it was true, but I was flattered anyway that she remembered the conversation two years later.

 

 

Kelly 

Kelly, on the other hand was a separated mother of two kids in a fee-paying school, fighting a bitter battle over a divorce, where her ex would not pay a penny until it was forced out of him.  It took her two years of prostitution to supplement her minimal income without becoming too dependant on her brother who was a hospital administrator, but had real commitments of his own;  and before she could honourably retire, having finally used the courts to crush his resistance, freeze his bank accounts and sequester his assets.  Unfortunately her introduction to the game was at the hands of a real pimp who took fifty percent of everything she earned.  He drove her around and stayed within sight as she picked up clients.  He told her what to charge, where to go, bought her condoms.  Bareback was double the standard fee, and only if she'd done the punter three times before, this was a rare occurrence, and she was known as the Blow-Job Queen!  I managed to see her off book a few times, but it was difficult to fool her pimp.  I wanted my money to all go to her!  I delivered a bottle of champagne to her house when her financial settlement finally came through.  Her kids were out, and she gave me a free goodbye fuck.  

 

 

 

Lilly

There was this old hand who had been working the streets faithfully for twenty years, she only ever missed the occasional Saturday night and a few days each month when she was indisposed.  She was one of the good girls who regularly used condoms, so I only had her two or three times.  The Prime Minister had announced that members of the public should be able in future to recommend worthy citizens for awards on the Honour's List.  A number of us arranged an anonymous letter writing campaign to get her an award, just out of pure badness!  Why not;  some dopey woman could get the British Empire Medal for standing at a school crossing unfailingly twice a day, five days a week, two hundred days a year, for ten years.   Lilly was a good looking, well made, well presented girl, had worked her way through thousands of cocks, probably saved hundreds of marriages, and distracted and pacified as many potential rapists;  why shouldn't she get the B.E.M. for her unstinting services to mankind, was she not even more of a heroine!  After-all it was later revealed the P.M. himself had spent some of his time in office assiduously fucking a cabinet colleague!  There is however no record of what sort of reception the letters received!

 

 

 

The Saturday Slander

Lilly was well known, rather better known than she would have liked.  Our local weekly newspaper, we'll call it the Saturday Slander, had been following up on a mother and son brothel keeping and escorting enterprise.  They managed to take Lilly's photo as she was being handed off by the son, in a public car park, to a punter who was waiting in his car.  First they included the photo in a three page spread about the whole enterprise, but with no pictures of the principals.  They kept using that one photo in every story they published about prostitution for years to come.  Around this time other newspapers were doing similar things.  German Shepherd Dogs were being vilified for mauling children, it was common to publish a photo of a snarling G.S.D. alongside any story of a dog biting incident, even if the bite was inflicted by a pekingese!  This is apparently responsible reporting!  Lilly's photo was published with every story about prostitution, locally, a hundred miles away, or even abroad.  As far as I know the original incident was the only reported one she was ever actually involved in.  I suppose their rationalisation was that they owned the picture!

The Saturday Slander would send undercover reporters to events which were rumoured to be swingers parties and would surreptitiously photograph everyone arriving and note all their car registration numbers.  Then they would try to gain entry by lying about who had invited them, and use a concealed camera for more pictures.  Even if absolutely nothing untoward was going on they would publish a salacious story with pictures and names of just about everybody present.  One victim took them to the Press Complaints Tribunal, the paper defended themselves on the grounds of public interest and public health.  The Tribunal  ruled that public interest only trumped right to privacy when a public figure, elected representative or cleric publicly spoke out against some thing and indulged in that thing themselves.  That the paper could not even prove it was anything more than a normal private gathering.  And that the courts had dismissed public hygiene, the notion that everyone present would get a transmittable disease, as a defence in previous cases.  Apparently the Tribunal has no power to do anything other than make a ruling.  It hasn't stopped the paper continuing to do the same thing again and again.  They tend to target people who can't fight back. 

One girl booked a function room in a major hotel, it was ostensibly a class reunion.  The paper managed to invade it with hidden cameras.  The next day they photographed the girl on her own doorstep when she unwittingly answered the door to their reporter.  They found a picture on a swinger’s web-site that looked like her and published the full details of that profile.  They discovered that one of their photos taken in the function room was of a girl who worked behind the counter in a sex shop.  They also found an escort web-site and which was irrelevant and published details of that in the same context. They printed a four page spread this time, claiming that this was a swingers gathering for exchanging information and phone numbers as a prelude to further private swingers meetings.  No attempt at all to suggest that anything went on at the function.  They interviewed the girl's neighbours, her employer, and parents at her children's school.  This was now creating news rather than just bad reporting.  They went on two weeks later to publish a two page follow up about how her neighbours broke her windows and put the family out of their house;  how her children were beaten up in school and had to be withdrawn for their own safety;  and how she had lost her job.  She just ran away and hid;  she had no recourse against anyone, even her job was for cash-in-hand and she couldn't take any action against her employer who just disowned her.  The paper's sales rocketed.

This paper writes stories designed to titillate their salacious readership, but writes them from a puritan, public service standpoint to justify writing them at all.  Their readership loves reading about swinging and dirty sexual goings on, that's why they buy the paper, most of them want to get in on the act.  They published the full urls for the swingers' and escort web-sites just so that their readers could go on line and try to get in on parties and hookers themselves.  The two sites were nearly swamped with new hits.  

A serious attempt has been made to find a group of like-minded people who would be prepared to put up a fighting fund at short notice;  to be able to place a large enough sum of money in a solicitors account;  to take the paper to court for libel, slander and defamation.  All in a reasonably cut and dried case where the cash would not be in any real danger.  Just to help put an end to this sort of behaviour and the paper's flouting all our rights to reasonable privacy and their flouting the European Convention on Privacy to boot.

 

 

Ernie's Girls

One night as I drove through the red light district I observed three parked cars, each with a single male in the driver's seat patiently waiting.  I pulled into a space behind one of them and parked, I just wanted to see who they were waiting for, who was about.  The guy in the car immediately in front of me got out, walked back to my drivers side window and asked me if I was looking for a girl.  I replied “Always”;  whereupon he produced a flashy new camera phone (I still didn't have a camera on my phone in those days) and showed me a head and shoulders picture of a pretty girl, followed by a faceless, topless picture.  He said that she was away with a punter, and if I was prepared to wait for the two guys parked behind me I could have my turn with her.  He told me how much she charged;  they were standard prices for the street, for a blow-job, sex with a condom and sex without.  Having time on my hands and money in my pocket, I told him that sounded good, I could wait, I'd never stand in the way of a girl getting a fuck, or getting paid for it.  I invited him into the car so we could talk while we all waited for her to return.  I can't remember what he told me his name was, but when the girl came back she called him Ernie, so we reverted to using his real name!  He said he was driving this girl around as a favour, because her boyfriend didn't have a car.  He would be bringing her out regularly, and would be trying to help her find a string of regulars that they could meet up with somewhere more discrete, and book by phone.

Ernie told me that he found willing girls on line and that he was on a site or a notice board with the nick-name of man in need of a shag and that any girl who came on to him there already had her knickers off.  It sounded a bit improbable, if it was as easy as that I'd have been doing it and so would everybody else!  The girl, he called her Maddie, returned;  she was really good looking;  and we all drove away in convoy to a discrete spot they knew.  Ernie handed her off to the first guy, who parked about twenty yards away, and he got back into my car again to talk.  As we watched the other car steam-up a little and start to bounce up and down gently, Ernie was sitting there stroking the front of his pants.  He said that he had a couple of girls who knew the prices on the street, but they were well worth it;  he also knew a few girls who didn't go down the town and only charged half as much, but I had to promise not to tell them what the going rate was of we'd all lose out!  Maddie walked back to our car and talked to Ernie before going with her next punter.  “The dirty fucker paid the full price for bareback without batting an eyelid” she said.  “Of course he did” Ernie replied “And so will the next” (he called the guy by name) and turned to me and said “She's going to be messy tonight”.  Maddie laughed, got into the next guy's car and drove back to the same spot while we waited.  We were both sitting there watching the car, stroking our erections through our pants.  With the promise of all these half-price girls I got Ernie's phone number.  He talked about wanting to arrange a gang-bang for Maddie, and about another girl he had taken dogging the previous night, who had fucked ten men in his car.

Madeline finally got into my car, by then I was really gagging for it.  I pulled tight up against Ernie's car and opened a window half an inch so the car wouldn't steam up and he could hear all the sound effects as well as see what we were doing;  we got into the back.  She was a really good kisser, and stripped almost naked beside me.  I rubbed the overflow down from her wet cunt with my thumb and started licking her out.  The last two or three guys had been boring, no fun at all;  with me she had a string of orgasms, another within a second of my sliding my cock into her and more as I shot my load.  I got a look over her shoulder into Ernie's car;  he had his cock out and was wanking.  We lay in each-other’s arms briefly and within half a minute she had another orgasm, a sort of aftershock, neither of us were doing anything;  then another a minute later.  I licked her out again at length with more orgasms;  she spent more than twice as long with me as either of the others;  with no suggestion from either of them that I should pay more.  I told her that I had Ernie's phone number so I could see her again and I discretely slipped her mine on a scrap of paper.

It turned out that Ernie was in reality a taxi driver;  and spent his nights importuning drunk girls on their way home at two or three in the morning, driving them home for free in return for a fuck if they didn't have the price of their fare.  He would then attempt to persuade them that they could make money for sex if they were short of cash,  and he could always find them punters.  To give him his due, he wasn't trying to make much money out of it.  If the girls were sufficiently innocent as not to know what prices were being charged, he would have them working for half the going rate and just pass them around his friends, of whom there were many.  He also encouraged them to do all their punters bareback, told them that punters never used condoms, and they would get no business if they did;  also that it was just as safe as doing their boyfriends and dates without!  Over the next few months I saw a whole string of Ernie's girls;  both the full-price ones and the half-price ones.  

His half-price ones were a bit of a gamble, he'd give me their phone number, I'd say Ernie had made the introduction, some never turned up, the ones that did were a mixed bunch.  They came in all shapes and sizes and degrees of enthusiasm, only about one in ten were worth seeing a second time.   There was an ex-police woman who was all full of how she was going to make a big career out of prostitution, at half-price! You'd have thought she'd have been more worldly wise.  There was the young single mother who arranged to meet at the side door of a pub.  She took me to a run-down house with only one working light bulb, and had spunk running down her leg from one of her boyfriend’s mates in the pub toilet.  Before we left the house she was on the phone to another of Ernie's cronies and was arranging to meet him there and then.  She said her boyfriend had no idea she was working, and said she would tell him that she had got the money selling drugs, after-all that was okay, everyone wanted drugs!  A girl that I actually saw twice went for a drive around the dogging sites with me and flashed her tits at everybody;  but that was as exciting as it got.

His full price girls were a much better bet.  Hell, they even came with photos and references.  He had one girl who would fuck fares in the back of his taxi as he drove them where ever they were going;  that was dangerous, if I'd been driving I'd have crashed the car!  He fixed girls up with a hotel room for the evening and mustered their punters in the bar.  His friends quite often got to meet them in his flat.  I wondered why they left the bedroom door open;  I remember being on my back on the bed with a girl on top and being able to see past her to a dressing-table mirror beyond the foot of the bed which was angled to see into the next room;  there was Ernie's leering face, sitting in a chair, watching us and wanking.  When she left me fucked-out, she walked into the next room naked, sat on his lap and fucked him on the chair;  I could see it in the mirror while I was still lying on the bed.  I pulled myself together and wandered naked into the room and watched;  “Ernie you dirty sod” I told him, “Next time don't bother with the mirror, just come in and join us in bed”. In future he did.  He started all his latest acquisitions in the street to find them new business, so I usually got each of them for a quickie in the car before having more expensive sessions with them elsewhere which was a cost-effective way of separating the wheat from the chaff.  He was never off the phone:  “I took this new girl out to the car park at the bridge last night, and she did five guys in the car one after the other, all bareback, not a care in the world.  She'll be in my flat this afternoon if you want to call, and I'll have her out in town tonight.  She's a dirty slut, you'll love her, she even takes it up the arse.”  Naturally I had to give them all a go, once at least.

 

 

 

Madeline

Maddie was the first girl I met through Ernie's good offices.  After the first encounter on the street, I saw her in a hotel with him where I had to join the queue in the bar and only got to have her once;  and he finally arranged the gang-bang in a farmer's hay shed where with seven guys, I got to have her three times.  I only saw her in his flat twice though she did quite a few punters there.  I was beginning to get the measure of Ernie;  he paid Maddie to fuck an eighteen-year-old boy in his flat as a reward for sucking him off;  and I'd wondered why he was feeling my balls when I was fucking another girl in his bed!  I made an date to see Maddie on her own one night;  I met her by arrangement at a petrol station forecourt within walking distance of her house.  She took me up an overgrown lane with a derelict bungalow at the end of it and after a good session in the back-seat I saw someone trying to peer in through the steamed up window.  She said it was okay, it was her boyfriend Freddie, she'd told him where to be!  I got into the front seat and he got into the back with Maddie and I apologised for not opening the window a bit and giving him a better view.  She gave him a quick suck and a fuck as I watched;  then he got into the front, I got into the back and we started all over again with him watching and sticking his arm through between the seats to feel her up as I fucked her.  I arranged to pick them both up the next night and take them back to the flat.  We had an hour or more taking her turn and turn about,  I thought he was a bit rough with her, and really didn't like it when her sucking his cock, turned into his fucking her face until she gagged.  

We knew that Ernie was otherwise engaged that night and wouldn't have anyone out and about, and Freddie had never seen Maddy pull on the street.  So we sallied out, selected a car park for Maddie to do her punters in where we could watch from a discrete distance and pick her up after each one, and dropped her in the street.  She pulled three guys in quick succession, we watched the cars steam up and bounce up and down, and drove her back to her beat after each.  In my brief conversations with Freddie;  he loved seeing her with all these other guys, complimented me on my treating her like a lady, and went on to express his disappointment with her doing them all and his never getting a penny from her;  I thought that was only right!  He grumbled quite a bit when she insisted on using condoms on two of the guys because they wouldn't pay extra, she just told him it would have been bad for business!  When we got back to the flat, got her naked and licked her pussy out, she produced the two used condoms from her bag with knots tied in them, poured the contents into her cunt just for him to stick his cock in.  I didn't like the lack of love, affection and respect in their relationship, to say nothing of lack of gentleness;  he was her choice of partner, but I chose not to have another threesome with him.

Maddie had started her career as a Sanger Banger,  going to parties in various military barracks every night, and fucking everything that moved; and had thereafter been on the margins of prostitution, organised prostitution and brothel-keeping for most of her adult life.  She had always been notoriously relaxed about having unprotected sex, and said that she made more-or-less regular visits to the local Sexual Health Clinic.  That when she recounted her exploits in the clinic they just kept telling her “how lucky she was” never to have got a dose.  This account somehow reinforces the notion of there being Lucky Girls out there!  It was Napoleon who, when he chose his generals, refused to go for seniority and experience, he chose the lucky ones who could win battles against the odds.  Just like us, choosing the lucky girls who seem to be able to laugh at the odds and survive the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases unscathed.  We all really want to believe that they exist, and revel in their apparent immunity!

Ernie was stretching himself quite thin with the sheer number of girls he was dealing with.  He seemed to have no objection to my taking Maddie off his hands for an evening, or overnight, even for the occasional weekend, and her boyfriend didn't seem to mind either;  she suspected him of having a variety of bits on the side and seemed happy to let him get on with it.   I took her dogging,  drove her to see the occasional regular keeping beneath Ernie's radar, bought her dinner, stayed at the flat or took her to a hotel for the night (or the weekend).  We would bring the occasional guy back to the flat or hotel, but felt we needed to spread our wings a bit and find new people.  I suggested us having a profile on a swingers' site;  I set one up and showed it to her and Ernie, he promptly friended and verified us and provide a dozen photographs that he'd taken of Maddie.  Over nearly a year we met a few couples and quite a few single guys from the site.  But this wasn't good enough;  she wanted a profile on an escort site too!  Thinking about it, I'm surprised Ernie wasn't providing this service for all his girls, certainly he did later.  I took the lead and had really great fun writing that profile;  I think I had a hard on the whole time I was working on it!  I ticked the Bareback and  Unprotected Sex boxes right from the outset, and wrote a piece in Frequently Asked Questions saying “Yes I do Bareback, but it is £50 extra and I only do it with guys I've seen before”.  Then I wrote another F.A.Q. “Yes I'll give you a discount, but only if you are prepared to do a threesome with my partner, and if we both like you I'll do you bareback for free”.  Maddie and Ernie were both delighted, and we accessed at least four other computers to give her a whole series of glowing references and reviews.  

She got so many responses that Ernie was forced to book her into a hotel about three days a week, and whenever she got a punter whom she liked and who volunteered for a threesome, his second or third visit was with me in the flat.  While Ernie started writing online profiles for the rest of his girls he must have still seen Maddie as his principal money spinner.  The bastard deliberately set out to disillusion Maddy with me, telling her a pack of lies.  While succeeding in getting her to dump me, she never trusted him again and had no more to do with him either.  She found a couple of other guys to manage her escort profile,  but they weren't either as loving nor as considerate as I would have been.  We kept in touch occasionally, mostly to relish the Saturday Slander outing him.  He was stupid enough to extend his recruitment campaign to advertising somewhere for naked cleaners, and found himself interviewing an under-cover reporter!  They photographed him at work, and gave him a two page spread.  They revealed that he had been dumped by at least three different taxi firms after complaints by women he had importuned in his cab at night;  and that he had a criminal conviction for exposing himself!  They did follow-ups on him two or three times over the next few years.  If only they had known the real extent of his good work!  

With my new camera-phone I only managed to get a few pictures of Maddy;  one really pretty close-up penetration picture of my cock in her pussy;  but the rest were all the ones taken by Ernie.  I did have a few pretty, innocent photos, including one in a T-shirt I had bought her emblazoned in Latin with the slogan “Illi Copulatrix Centorii” (The Fuck of the Century).  I'd got myself one at the same time with “Illi Copulator Centorii”, but on mine it said underneath “Centorium Penultimum” (Last Century)!  The millennium had passed and I think I'm entitled to make ageist jokes at my own expense.

 

Hookers I Have Known: Part Two

 

Nancy

My delving into the Escort site had got me interested in using it to find new people for myself.  A high proportion of the local profiles hadn't been accessed by their principals for a long time and had effectively been abandoned;  the site must have only kept them on to bulk up their listing and for the casual browsers to leer over.  Fortunately they all gave the date last accessed and were easy to put on my blacklist.  I methodically sent the most promising ones emails on the site and had a few mediocre if rather expensive encounters from those who replied.  One girl was great, I saw her several times, but I gave up after a while when I failed to wean her off using condoms.  Some never turned up and cost me a hotel booking since I wasn't prepared to bring them back to the flat first time.  Then I tried the couples advertising for escort work.  There were far fewer of them and only one looked promising, I don't now remember what their work-names were on the site;  but Nancy and her partner George arrived in my cheap hotel room for their one hour appointment prompt and on time.  As we had discussed in our previous email exchange, Nancy was wearing nothing but shoes and an overcoat, she dropped the coat as she walked through the door;  this had always been one of Diana's and Maddie's favourite things to do on a first meeting!  She put the money away in her bag and took out a couple of condoms and left them on the bedside table.  After the hour was up, we'd both fucked her twice, the condoms were still sitting there all lonely and unwanted;  and unused.  She was a great kisser, seriously multi-orgasmic, liked to get two cocks in her at the one time, one in her pussy and one in her bum,  and her bum opened up like a flower for just a little lick.  Anal was never my first choice of entry although I've obliged a few girls who were keen on it;  I generally left her bum to George.  She loved getting oral from both of us and George was just as keen to have her explode in his face as I was.  After our first meeting I ended up with both their phone numbers.

They weren't a real couple;  she was divorced with a twenty-year-old daughter and her own place;  he was married with a wife at home who had no idea what he was doing!  They were only together for sex, and a little bit of money.  I say a little bit, it was just as much for the adventure.  Working their way through their relatively few on-line offers, and Nancy refusing to see about half of them a second time,  she was only building up a small if loyal clientele.  This was a girl who loved sex but did not have the nerve to work on the street or go dogging.  George's attempt to arrange a gang-bang for her almost petered out when only four of us arrived out of the promised eight; again the condoms were on the table, again they were never used, probably because I got to set the example.  George worked night shifts about half the time;  he didn't seem to have any objection to my taking her out when he was unavailable;  I never encroached on his nights.  We did dinner, we did overnights, I took her to see a few regulars in George's place, and one of the guys who turned up for the gang-bang and I organised a proper event for her, where eleven of us had her over about five hours.  If she was too scared to go dogging, and I did try, she felt safe and secure with George or me or the gang-bang guy walking through a stranger's door, all set to fuck for England! She didn't even need a drink to steady her nerves.  

George had a fancy digital camera and I had my camera-phone, we both took pictures of everything that moved in those bedrooms.  Nancy seemed to have absolutely no concern whatsoever about what we might do with the pictures.  I knew that George was carefully cropping faces on her photos on the escort site where we wrote glorious references and reviews of her sexual prowess, but beyond that I don't know what he did with them.  I was equally careful about publicly posting them on the Internet;  but it was lovely actually having pictures with me in them.  In almost all my dirty photos I was behind the camera, even if I did risk injury, loosing my erection or blinding myself with the flash in the mirror to actually get myself in the frame.  Now, courtesy of George, I was one of the subjects.  Some of the pictures I've managed to crop or fudge for posting, and it's great knowing that it's my cock in that pussy when previously it was only all the other dirty fuckers' cocks;  and I have a very private collection of me, hugging, kissing, fucking, licking and having my face sat on, of which I'm immensely proud!

We met up together and in various groups depending on who was free for nearly a year, at her place, my place, hotels, punters houses, gang-bangs and wherever.  Then suddenly she just seemed to evaporate;  no forwarding address, phone dead, email abandoned, daughter no longer living in the area either;  George had no idea where she had gone.  Discrete inquiries through the daughter's employer suggested that they departed for Ireland together to look after Nancy's father.  George soon had another girl with a profile on line, but she must have been twenty-five stone and was about as much fun as a beached whale.  He hasn't come up with anyone better since.

 

 

Opal

Opal had started her career as one of Ernie' girls, working on the street to help fund her dissolute lifestyle which her good, full-time job wouldn't quite cover;  it was party, party, party, every night!  She came to it with all the glee and carelessness and unprotected sex that stemmed from Ernie's careful grooming and mentoring.  She was a lovely girl, and I took her back to the flat from the outset, so as to spend time with her and make love.  Later when she'd blown Ernie out and was only working occasionally I took her to Penny's flat just because they were out together and were heading there anyway with another punter.  

Penny was an old friend, she'd been a working girl for twenty years;  I had no interest in her sexually, since for her it all was just drudgery, something she did for the money and got over with as quickly as possible.  However, in her early career I had truly adored her best friend Robyn, an absolutely lovely girl, high boots, short skirt, always a big smile, and she would just give it all up in bed when I licked her pussy.  According to Penny, my diligently licking Robyn's pussy was what really did it for her, and Penny seemed find it quite hilarious;  she told me that I was mad!  I would always have given Penny a lift home, bought her a meal or bought her cigarettes if she'd had a bad night, I happily settled for a big hug;  as I said, just good friends.  

Not enjoying sex, she would delegate wherever possible and let other girls use her flat, I assume she was getting some payment for the accommodation, although I never saw money change hands;  maybe she didn't, certainly she had a fair portion of the milk of human kindness about her.  I waited patiently and chatted to Penny while Opal did the other punter.  Penny saw the guy out the door when he was done and I slipped into the bedroom.  Opal was lying on the bed and hadn't bothered getting dressed.  I stripped quickly and dived in.  From the outset it was obvious that Ernie's training had paid off and she was just as careless as ever.  I was licking significant quantities of spunk out of her, and slid my cock into the rest, deep inside.  I gather that neither she nor Penny had any idea who the punter was, and I have no idea if he was her first that night.  Opal was a beautiful girl and a really great, enthusiastic fuck;  I saw her occasionally when she wanted a few pounds, in the flat, or a hotel;  she was an intelligent companion too, so I took her out to dinner.  I was just as much in love with her as the rest;  maybe more than most.

For some reason I didn't see her for about eight months;  then there she was again, standing on the street.  It was early and neither of us had eaten so I took her for a meal, the proper thing, three courses and a bottle of wine.  She had the key to Penny's flat and had left her motorbike there, well it was more of a scooter than a real bike.  So after dinner she phoned Penny, and we repaired to her flat for a nice long fuck.  But that wasn't the end of the story;  a couple of months later Penny called me and told me that Opal was desperately trying to establish the exact date of our last meeting, she was pregnant.  I was able to look up my credit card receipt and got back to Penny who by now had Opal's due date.  She must have been five weeks gone when we met.  I decently bought baby presents including a pre-decimalisation half-crown minted the year I was born.  I still love Opal, three children later by as many fathers and see her occasionally.  I'm afraid for some reason I am drawn to quote the character Juliet, from the book of the same name by the Marquis de Sade;  “When you fall into a rose bush, do you ask which thorn pricked you?”  She really ought to have blamed her dentist!  He gave her the antibiotic that briefly nullified the effect of her contraceptive hormone implant.

 

 

 

Cuckolding

Cuckold is a abusive term from the monogamous patriarchal era used to describe a man who's wife has cheated on him, worse still a man who has allowed this to happen and not suitably disciplined, beaten or murdered her in retaliation for her sin!  Wearing the horns of a Cuckold refers to the horns of rutting stags which loose all rights to their mates when successfully challenged by a new alpha male;  or the horns of the old fertility gods, from the pre-patriarchal era.  While cuckoldry has been a normal part of our ancestors multi-partner sexual relationships for half a million years and more, and has for the last few thousand only survived here and there in dark corners;  it has suddenly blossomed as a life-style on the internet in the last decade or so.  

The main cuckold website in the UK has one hundred and thirty thousand members, equivalent sites in North America have around two and a half million.  Cuckoldry on these sites does not all revolve around joyously conniving at the women we love having various sexual relationships with other men for both our own, and their enjoyment.  Some of it involves a sad humiliation fetish for impotent men and those with only little dicks;  the idea that you're not a proper cuckold unless you are being humiliated is entirely wrong.  People in this community have reacted against the whole sad bit,  and set up Wife and Girlfriend Sharing sites which don't place the same stress on humiliation.  In both sorts of site, men get to enjoy posting detailed accounts and photographs of the women they love with other men, and are proud to show off their wives and partners in a variety of forums on these sites.  

There are forums with pictures of wives and girlfriends actively having sex with other men.  Creampie forums showing them with spunk oozing out of their cunts, always supposedly the other guy’s spunk, not the husband's.  Forums dedicated to wives and girlfriends who  fuck colleagues at work, sometimes their bosses, and proudly bring the evidence home to their partners, the oozing spunk captured in their knickers.  Forums dedicated to girls who go out on the pull, to find strangers to have sex with in pubs and clubs and to how dirty they are when they return;  and ones dedicated to how these girls dress  to go out on these adventures.  Dogging forums proudly show these girls fucking strangers in car parks and al fresco elsewhere.  Further forums are dedicated to cheating wives wearing wedding rings;  and wearing ankle bracelets which are supposed to be a sign that they have their husband’s permission to cheat.

And it's not just pictures in the forums, there are long descriptions of events, and hosts of replies from viewers of the site, telling you what a beautiful slut your wife is, and offering to top her up with another load of spunk for you both to enjoy.  In the midst of all these vast numbers of entirely civilised people revelling in the glorious libidos of their wives and girlfriends, there are ones who want to be even dirtier!  In our recently post-racist society, there are the girls seeking B.B.C. (Big Black Cock) and husbands and boyfriends actively encouraging them to be defiled, by a big buck nigger, just for them!  There are girls who from theirs and their partner's posts are working either part-time or full-time as escorts;  and you must remember that there are women posting on these sites too.  Posts from either party suggesting how much dirtier it would be if the girl was being paid for it;  random strangers just not being good enough!  Posts with photos asking everyone on the site just how much they would be prepared to pay to fuck this girl!  Posts planning gang-bangs for girls where most of the volunteers want to have her last, when she would be at her messiest, even if you'd have automatically assumed that this was always the loving husband's privilege.  The concentration and even insistence on unprotected sex in cuckold meetings and when dogging, far outstrips the fetish for it amongst swingers, and punters with whores on the street.

All my discovery of cuckold sites online did for me was to confirm that I was on the right track.  This was something I had been doing for years and loved, I'd just never put a name on it.  If anything it made me feel more justified in my delight with the company of bad girls, and dirty girls who were just so much more exciting than the other sort.  It further directed me to research the history of sexual physiology, hence the few references herein.  Naturally I posted my best pictures on the main sites, always trying to protect the identity of the subjects.  Ernie's discrete pictures of Maddy, and all George's and my pictures of Nancy that could be cropped and fudged;  and I was delighted with their reception.  I posted a few articles about the history of human sexual behaviour on a number of sites and got a few encouraging comments, but I think most of the members and random browsers preferred looking at the pictures, short comments and one-liners.  I also wrote a Mission Statement for the main site which was posted elsewhere as well.  Everyone has to have a Mission Statement.  Now-a-days, you could be suspected of burglary, mugging, fraud, maybe even of rape or murder and be let out on bail until the evidence gets lost, or get off with a rap on the knuckles;  but fail to have a Mission Statement and society will shun you!

 

 

 

Mission Statement

This site is dedicated to the empowerment, ennoblement, even the deification of those glorious women who make the all difference in the world.  We are told that sixty percent of men have extra-marital affairs, and that forty percent of women do.  Vive la difference!  We dedicate ourselves to the glory of those wonderfully libidinous women who gleefully and wantonly take up the slack (or indeed the stiffness), and make the system work.

We defer to them wholeheartedly as their willing and dedicated champions and protectors.  No man will shame them, shun them or raise a hand to hurt them without answering to us.  We will open doors for them, hold their coats (or their knickers), stand up when they come into the room, throw our coats onto puddles for them to walk over, kiss their feet and be ready at all times to give them cunnilingus on demand. 

We will cooperate and connive with them in their wanton need to kiss, hug, be felt-up by and to flirt outrageously with all and sundry.  We will keep open house for their boyfriends, lovers and one-night-stands. We will happily accompany them when they are, out on the pull. Encourage them to wear no underwear and the shortest of dresses. Or send them out on their own whenever they prefer, on condition that they bring home evidence of their shamelessness.  It is never the duty of these divine beings to service the men in their lives;  it is their men's duty to service them, and be thankful for it.  We will dutifully fix them up, with friends and strangers alike, indulge all their pretty peccadilloes and set out to fulfil their every deliciously dangerous and dirty desire.

We will brook no criticism of this their selfishly sacred mission in life, for it is their due.  We will accept not a single slur upon their characters, and turn the vulgar epithets addressed to them into expressions of our love, adoration and devotion.  These are Holy Women, Sacred Vessels of the Earth Goddess, upon whose love and lust the World turns; upon whom the continence, prosperity and fertility of the State depends.  We deem them to be Without Sin

 

 

 

Sue

One night when I was driving aimlessly through the district about midnight with snow on the ground, no plans to pick up anyone, not even a lot of money in my pocket;  I saw this girl.  I'd seen her before in passing,  usually when I was preoccupied with someone else.  Or I'd only caught a glimpse of her in a doorway, or leaning in through the window of a punter's car, and she'd been gone before I got back around the block.  This night I saw her get out of a car in front of me, onto an empty street, for that brief moment there was  no competition and I pulled straight in alongside her nearly clipping the back bumper of the car driving off.  Most girls have a price list starting with a hand-job, a blow-job, and sex;  extras come much later in the conversation, if there are any extras to be had.  She was slim and pretty with shoulder length hair, only five foot, in boots and a short coat open down the front, a flimsy top with obviously no bra under it and a very short skirt.  Her prices were for sex and anal, followed by the mater-of-fact announcement that she had no condoms.  The prices were right at the bottom of the range, there were girls charging half as much again or even twice as much.

Having just more than enough cash on me without needing to go to an A.T.M. I got her into the car as quickly as possible before she got a better offer.  Establishing what I was likely to be getting for my money, I asked if I could have kisses and lick her pussy.  With a twinkle in her eye, or what I took to be a twinkle in the semi-darkness, she asked “Are you sure you want to kiss me and lick my pussy, you don't know where I've been?”  I thought my response was quite good at this short notice,  “If I'd met you at a Sunday School picnic I wouldn't know where you've been,  but I've met you in the street selling your body to total strangers, so I have to have a fairly good idea!”  She just laughed and said,  “On your head be it, don't say I didn't warn you!”

She took me to a car park only a hundred yards away, these girls know all the best places to go for a fuck, and usually use different places to avoid being spotted and caught.  It's not like the police bothered to prosecute the girls any more,  but they just liked to know where to park to sneak up on foot and shine their torches into the car;  ask you what you were doing there, ask your names and tell you to be on your way!  No such disturbance this time.  Without bothering asking for money up-front she climbed into the back seat;  by the time I was out one door and in through the other she was naked apart from her boots.  

I sat beside her with my trousers down around my ankles, and she played with my cock while I kissed her.  I worked my way down her tits and her tummy and got to her hairy pussy, I discovered that she'd been right to warn me.  I swept almost a handful of spunk down into the palm of my hand with my thumb, reached up and rubbed it all over her tits, before I settled down to lick her.  When I came up for air, I was pushed back in my seat, she climbed astride me, impaled herself on my cock, and clung to me as she started to fuck me.  I managed to hold back while she had a whole long series of noisy, shuddering, clingy orgasms that could have been registered on the Richter scale.  It wasn't just me, she needed a few minutes of recovery time just squatting there in my arms before we even moved apart for me to lick her again, starting with her tits and ending up back in her pussy.

I established that she'd had five guys before me that evening, all bareback,  three in her pussy, two in her arse.  Two of them were regulars, three were strangers;  two of them had come more than once.  She fucked bareback from choice saying that it was more adventurous, and pulling strangers, getting new meat as she called it, for the same reason.  She was twenty-four.  This was definitely a girl to see more of;  a lot more!  We didn't tell each-other our names until we exchanged phone numbers, and I gave her all the money in my wallet, a little more than she'd asked for, which seemed to surprise her;  I had to call at an A.T.M. on the way home.  I wanted to see her again, I suggested taking her dogging.  Saturday night was out, she was going clubbing, she laughed about how many men she might have.  Sunday was okay, I could pick her up near her home about nine, she could do a few punters and we could make our way to the car parks by midnight.  I dropped her off on the street where I'd picked her up, she crossed to the other side and stepped into a doorway.  I switched out the lights and slumped down in the seat;  she was picked up within three minutes after only the briefest of negotiations.  The next day I had to put in some seriously hard work scrubbing the spunk stains off the upholstery on my back seat!

Sunday came and I was already sitting at the rendezvous point when Sue texted me to pick her up.  As we drove into town she regaled me to her Saturday night in a club, where, when she fucked the bouncers they gave her exclusive use of a disabled toilet!  She liked having the grab-rails to hold on to as she straddled a guy who was sitting on the pot, and said she preferred fucking all the older men, because they were more desperate!  We pulled into a dark corner before getting to her favourite beat;  I walked around the car and she swung her legs out the passenger door;  I told her that I actually wanted to taste her, before she started on her night's debauch.  After all it wasn't just her that I would be tasting for the rest of the night.  

She took up her station in a doorway and I sat back and watched.  In just over two hours she pulled four guys one after the other with no more that one or two minutes on the street between them.  She was clearly giving good value and wasn't rushing them.  It was a long ordeal watching and waiting and keeping my hand off my cock!  When she got back into my car she bragged about how much of a slut she'd been with them, two regulars and two strangers - New Meat;  the last guy had fucked both her pussy and her arse and come three times.  

Over the previous two days I'd texted at least a dozen of the perverts from the car parks, seven had got back to me.  One to say he couldn't make it but to let him know how we got on and keep him in mind for the future.  One to say he'd try, and five who said they'd definitely be there.  As it was to turn out we got the maybe, four definites, and two guys none of us knew, who just turned up.  Before we got settled in the first car park I bought her cigarettes and a couple of cans of diet coke.  Then I got Sue to count her money from the night, I made her count it twice just to check she got it right, she was a little mystified.  I took out my wallet and doubled it, matched it pound for pound and made her count it again;  twice!  She was rather amazed, said she'd go dogging with me every night, and I wouldn't have to pay her that much every time!  I was going to be her very best client!

Sue stripped to her boots, folded her clothes up on the floor in front of the seat and put on my big sheepskin overcoat.  This was something she could get on and off very easily, and I hoped it would protect my upholstery.  I drove to the designated spot where we were expected and parked right at the back of that car park with room for cars on both sides, wound down the back windows half an inch, put the seats full forward and we got into the back.  I had time to kiss her, plaster her spunky overflow all over her tits and lick her pussy, making a point of licking her freshly fucked arse as well.  She was no sooner astride me in the middle of the seat with my cock inside her, when we saw we had an audience.  Cars had quietly parked at both sides of us and we had a wanker with his cock in his hand at each window.  Sue just leant over to each side, opened both doors and carried on fucking me.

Sue had a series of noisy orgasms even though I came fairly quickly, and while our audience was growing only two of the guys could get at her to grope her.  After a few moments to catch her breath she climbed off me and out of the car in only her boots.  Now there were five pair of hands all over her.  As I got my pants up and staggered out to join them, she suggested I take photos! I got pictures of them all from the neck down with those hands all over her;  pictures of every cock in her mouth;  of her being spit roasted;  taking it doggy on my sheepskin over the bonnet;  on her back on the bonnet holding on to a cock at each side whose owners were holding her legs in the air for a third to fuck her.  A short pause while she rehydrated with coke from one of the cans we had carefully deposited in the snow, then we returned to the back-seat.  She lay on her back in my lap with her bum stuck out through the door and her feet up against the upper frame, and got them all again in turn.  I got photos of a cock approaching its target, rubbing against her cunt, driving into her, pulling out, someone outside took the camera-phone and got a close-up of the spunk oozing out of her, gave me it back, and I photographed the next.  I got about ninety photos that night, at least sixty weren't too blurred and were worth keeping.  As the guys gathered around to scrutinize them and see that their faces weren't in them, everybody got the phone numbers of the two newbies for future notification of similarly glorious adventures to come.  Sue loved the pictures even though half of them showed her face, I had to promise to copy them all onto a flash-drive for her.  She wanted to know where I'd be posting them;  when I told her about the cuckold sites she said she'd join so she could write comments herself and personally answer all the dirty ones she attracted.

We finished in the car park with a really fantastic fuck, still with an audience, packed up and left.  On the slow drive home I got to find out a bit more about her.  She had her own house and a live-in partner who was alleged to be the father of her child, and she really had had pregnancy scares while fucking around!   She snored like a foghorn, and he was already sleeping in the spare room;  she more-or-less used him as a live-in babysitter most nights of the week so she could go out partying and whoring.  He was always asleep when she finally got home;  after all he had a job to go to!  She had discovered the red light district when she was sixteen, but regulars generally contacted her by phone and met away from there;  she only used it for finding her favourite commodity, new meat.  She went to the hooker’s clinic in the district every two weeks after an initial dose of chlamydia, but amazingly had never got a dose since.  She amazed (and probably horrified) the staff there with blow-by-blow accounts of her sexual antics and, like Maddy, they kept telling her how lucky she had been and she was bound to get an infection.  It was obvious that if I was going to get a dose from anybody it would be her.  But you just have to love Lucky Girls!  My upholstery wasn't so lucky;  the sheepskin hadn't always been in the right place at the right time, for future jaunts I got a car rug which could be tucked down over the back seat!

Our next night was cut short.  Sue's friend Tara who was an veteran of the business, worked from home with a couple of friends to give the punters a bit of variety.  Early in the evening and just two punters down, Sue got a phone call, Tara had a job for her, a job apparently only she could do!  A visiting football team and their coach was staying overnight in town and had elected to spend their evening after the match being entertained at Tara's.  When they arrived they announced that they all wanted a girl who would fuck them bareback!  Tara and her colleagues were good girls who insisted on using condoms.  Sue's fame preceded her, if anyone would happily bareback a visiting football team it was obviously she, and Tara was negotiating a rate!  I got a very quick fuck in a car park, we mopped her up and I diligently licked her clean in lieu of a bath or a shower;  delivered her to the door, but there was no place for a hanger-on at this party, it might put the athletes off.  Sue asked me to phone the following afternoon to hear the details and arrange something for us.

She didn't answer the phone for a couple of days, when mid-week she answered it in the morning I arranged to pick her up from home to take her to lunch.  I arrived at about eleven, and found her just out of the bath, partner at work, child out with granny.  We spent an hour in her bed before heading out to lunch.  The football party had gone well, the team didn't leave to go back to their B.& B. until four in the morning;  she fucked every one of them at least twice!  Tara had split the take with her and the other two girls had gone home early without a penny.  We planned our next Sunday night.  I would pick her up from a house on the other side of town, where she would be doing two punters in the marital bed of one of them while his wife was away.  We'd go back to the flat for a while and I would take her out to dinner;  we'd go dogging after. The two guys wanted to see her again but no longer had a wife-free venue;  I suggested she bring them back to the flat if I could join in.  Again a Sunday night, one of them brought her flowers and the other had got her a sexy nun's outfit;  maybe he had been brought up catholic and wanted to show how far he'd lapsed!  She obliging wore it for him but it didn't do anything for me, I just wanted her naked.  I knew the other guy;  he had been at Nancy's mini-gangbang and had arranged the proper one for her.  He told us in detail about a gangbang which sadly I'd missed, in a private house in a nearby town.  The girl had been twenty-two, and had done nineteen guys in the one evening, one after the other.  She had charged a quite modest fee, which everybody paid except the guy who had provided the house and her boyfriend.  Sue was fascinated and was full of questions, did she do them all bareback? Did she do them one at a time, or were they all in together?  Did she only do them once each?  How much did she charge?  What were the guys like?  Could he fix her up with a night like that?  If he could Sue would have been in her element, and so would I.  We went on like this for quite a while, dogging almost every Sunday, occasionally Friday as well, sometimes after an evening's whoring, sometimes after dinner.  Sometimes after both if we got her started early enough.  A few regulars in the flat, but she really liked dogging and fucking in guys cars, in toilets, in back alleys, in the woods;  like everything else she loved it had to be more adventurous.  She still did punters occasionally during the week when I wasn't out as much, except to buy her lunch;  and Saturdays were for clubbing!  One night she got me into trouble with the police when someone reported her flashing guys while sitting in my car at a petrol station, I was inside at the time buying her cigarettes;  but we got over that and managed to laugh it off.

Sue split up with her partner, understandably he was feeling rather used, and they settled on joint custody of the child.  She had her from school pick-up on Monday afternoon to drop-off on Friday morning and had the house to herself all weekend.  Those were glorious weekends!  There was a parade of men through that house and a couple of stray bi-sexual girls as well.  It was hard to tell who was being fucked just for the hell of it and who was discretely paying, certainly there were a lot of presents.  I had both the strays, one didn't charge me at all, the other asked for money once and laughed when I offered it to her the next time. Sue largely gave up on pulling in the street, but on the nights she got started early enough for me to take her out to dinner well fucked, we would tour the area before we went dogging.  Then she usually pulled a stranger or two and waved her immoral earnings at me, for me to double them up. Oh but I love that girl!

There were mild clear summer evenings when we got out of town to ancient monuments, public footpaths, tow-paths along the canal.  In the hour before darkness, and before we could decently set about dogging, there would be the occasional couple and the occasional pervert;  we only had to watch out for innocent joggers and dog-walkers.  I ended up with many hundreds of photos of Sue.  Naked in fields and woods, beside the river or canal, sprawled over neolithic monuments, in graveyards, fucking a stray jogger or pervert in the long grass.  One night we found our way into a country church that seemed empty and she dropped the sheepskin coat and posed on the altar.  I was careful about posting her pictures on the internet, but she insisted on having copies of every photo on flash drives, and not only copied the whole flash drives for anyone who asked but posted the pictures herself.  She was on all these sites now,  chatting and posting, lapping up and actively encouraging all the vile and filthy propositions she received every day.  We lost count of the number of pictures she received, not just of guys' cocks, but pictures of printouts of her photos that had been ejaculated over!  She was developing a filthy fan-base of many thousand one-handed keyboard operators at their computers, lusting over every new picture that came on line and begging for more.  She loved it.

Sue took up with a new guy nearly twice her age, Harry was escaping from a disastrous marriage and a lunatic wife;  and I mean lunatic, she had to be kept medicated up to the eyes and went on rampages when she wasn't.  Her two teenage children could do no wrong in her eyes, were always in trouble with the police and stalked and attacked anyone who supported Harry in the break-up.  For months Harry became an intimate part of the wild weekends, returning to being a civilized wage slave during the week.  He was totally fascinated by, and dependant upon, the endless parade of men who passed between Sue's legs in their bed and elsewhere.  While nervous about performing with her in public in case he couldn't get it up at the last minute, this was not a problem for him in private.  He just couldn't keep his hands off her, or his tongue or cock out of her, when she was dirty, sticky and stinking of sex.  This guy could ejaculate more often in one weekend for Sue than any man I've ever met before or since!  He wouldn't come dogging with us, but he was always waiting with his cock in his hand for her to get home and tell him all about it and see the pictures.  I was delighted for Sue, and totally in sympathy with Harry.  We tried to reassure him that he would always be able to sit back and watch her until his erection popped up and then he could always claim spousal privilege and have her next.

Sue had to get a court injunction against Harry's ex and her family after threats and a couple of broken windows.  She gave him copies of all her great trove of dirty photos, and we lost track of where he was gleefully posting them on the Internet.  Sue didn't care.  She was delighted with the more-or-less anonymous notoriety she was getting, and loved me taking her out to fuck occasional guys she met on line;  but Harry seemed to be getting a little erratic.  One morning at home I found a envelope taped to the window of my car;  I had the presence of mind to put on gloves before touching it.  It was a straightforward anonymous blackmail letter demanding a significant sum of cash delivered to a certain spot at a certain time, or the author would inform the Saturday Slander that I was the Internet presence taking Little Sue dogging.  I knew that I was financially and personally fireproof, this was not going to damage my career;  but the only thing to do was to take it to the police and gain anonymity in the courts as a victim of blackmail.  I immediately did;  the letter and car window were fingerprinted to no avail, the perpetrator had also had the presence of mind to wear gloves.  Unfortunately there was a big football match on the night of the handover and the police did not have the manpower to mount an operation.  Sue was the only person I told about the blackmail, and she was sure that Harry was behind it, he must have got my home address and surname from her address-book.  She let it slip that I'd gone straight to the police and I never heard any more about it, there were no more demands.  I'm not sure if their relationship would have survived another onslaught from Harry's ex and her brood with just another court injunction, or if the blackmail was the last straw;   but she dumped him and moved house to distance herself from both him, his ex and her gang of vandals.

Some time before this I had discovered something rather odd about Sue, considering her rampant sexual proclivities.  Looking at her Facebook page there were references to churches, church groups and that Jesus was her Saviour.  Apparently, every now and then she would become involved with one church group or another and take a break from the worldly pleasures in the name of religion, but she generally lapsed rather quickly and returned to a much more productive life of sin.  It seemed that I had, over two or three years, presided over her longest and most glorious fall from grace.  She just laughed when I suggested that lots of male attention and lots of orgasms were just as much a divine gift as anything the church could offer her.  She retreated from the world for a couple of months after she moved house, I only got to have lunch with her once.  This time she lapsed because, after giving a really stirring sermon about the dreadful evils of the sins of the flesh, her pastor had taken her aside and stuck his hand up her skirt!  I told her it was fair enough to give up on that church, or any other church, since the clergy and pastors were only human and weren't fit to tell everyone else what to do, but she shouldn't give up on Jesus.  After all he was the guy who decently consorted with sinners, prostitutes and tax-gatherers.  When the bad girl, the dirty girl (just like her) was dragged before him as Rabbi to confirm a sentence of stoning to death, didn't he dismiss the charges with “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”.  That was nothing like her Pastor's sermon!  There was nothing wrong with Jesus' teaching, just with the churches that evolved out of it, solely to justify clerical power trips and a full collection plate.  

Every now an again Sue would retreat into a little world with Jesus and another church group, and after a while would become disillusioned again, or just in too great a need of a good dirty fuck.  There would be a rampantly filthy weekend, or two or three,  and she might disappear for another two or three months.  She became more and more dependant on me to provide her with suitable entertainment on each return to the real world of sin, and more sin.  One new older guy, Ian, did survive several of her retreats to keep seeing her for a year or so;  we developed a new sexual position for him.  Reverse Cow Girl, in an armchair with her legs up over the arms.  Ian was able to lick her pussy, give my cock a courtesy suck, guide it into her, lick her (and me) while we fucked, give my cock another courtesy suck with all her juices and my spunk on it, and then lick her spunky juicy cunt out at length.  Since his only interest in me was an act of worship directed at her and her beautiful cunt, I naturally returned the complement;  some times getting to lick her out in depth with Ian's cock up her arse.  Sadly the periods or religious retreat seem to get longer and the ecstatic spells of real religious ecstasy farther and farther apart.  I love her to bits.  Every time I've told her so, and begged her to marry me, with or without an audience whose spunk I was wallowing in, I've meant every word of it.  If when she is fucking us all madly she is without sin;  then when she is away from us and we need her, she is without malice  We will always wait patiently for the promised resurrection of her endearing lust that is our inspiration and delight.

 

 

Religion

Religion is a very personal thing.  Most of us who have deliberately turned our back on all the big organised faiths, still have a small gap left in our lives which needs some sort of belief to fill.  The main Abrahamic, patriarchal religions, of which modern Judaism, Christianity and Islam are the heirs have a dreadful history of slaughter, forced conversion, and the enslavement and subjugation of women.  Many of us, even if our belief system has lapsed, live a double life.  Where we may formally bend one knee before the holy altar of the old Grey Beard who wags his finger at us disapprovingly from the sky;  and are still able to get down on both knees between the thighs of a woman who's holiness his priests would certainly have questioned, and who they might have stoned to death!

But as I've mentioned before the ill treatment of women is a quite recent religious innovation.  Before our ancestors invented the stern old Grey Beard in the sky, in their own stern image, they had glorious fertility cults where the deities were responsible for making the crops, the livestock and the people reproduce and prosper.  The people themselves had to show the rustic gods and libidinous Goddesses how to do it!  Every religious festival was as if the whole village went dogging.  The nubile women were openly and gleefully getting knocked up by the alpha males, usually the alpha males from the next village.  All in the name of religion!  This was normal human behaviour for much, much longer than the recent regime that we are familiar with, around us today.

Nobody should be surprised, that in the west where we have more freedom (and women in particular have more freedom);  we should be reverting to our normal, ingrained, evolved behaviour;  and abandoning the recent, modern fashion for being so afraid of empowered women that we have to do everything in our power to subdue them.

So why not go back to the old ways officially, since they make more sense to most of us.  Well, most of us are too busy screwing to bother with giving it a religious side;  and the ones who want a bit of ritual are just as likely to be too scared to screw.

(Don't ever join a modern Pagan group in hopes of getting your end away, they may exchange big formal hugs and talk about holding rituals “sky clad”;  but most of them are just as prissy and monogamous as the rest.  You will be completely wasting your time.)

 

 

Ethics

If we no longer have a religion worthy of the name to show us how to temper our behaviour to each other.  All we need to remember is that ethics does not require a religious basis – that's all just clerical propaganda!  The best ethical construct is simply that we should be able to do any damn thing we like, just so long as we don't hurt anyone else in the process.  In the context of what I'm writing, women who have sex to sell, should not be denied the right to use it to get jobs, buy their way up the political or commercial ladder, to secure a home for themselves and their loved ones, or just to rescue themselves from destitution, and it's only the religious fanatics who think that this should only be allowed to happen within marriage

We may legally define the word prostitution as the act of exchanging sex for money or material gain.  However there is no satisfactory way of drawing a fine line between the whore trading sex for cash on the street and the happily married housewife trading matrimonial intercourse for an increase in the housekeeping allowance;  and there are a whole range of grey areas in between.  The more civilised jurisdictions do not legislate against the exchange of sex for money, but for public order offences on the one hand (soliciting in public places and kerb crawling) and slavery on the other (living off the earnings of prostitution, running brothels and trading in women).

Not hurting anyone in the process must include protecting the sex workers from harm, which means making the pimps, criminals and criminal gangs which seek to enslave them, amenable to the law, despite all the intimidation they may use to keep their slaves from giving evidence against them.  We should probably be campaigning for all paedophiles, rapists, pimps and wife-beaters to be castrated!  Such is the determination we should be demonstrating to care for the physically weaker in society, particularly the women.  We don't need a religious formula to empower women and see them as Goddesses and Objects of Worship, that should come easily to all of those who love them.

 

 

 

Sexually Transmitted Diseases

The powers that be want everybody to view the universal use of condoms as Safe Sex.  They want everyone to use condoms because they believe that this will reduce the number of people demanding treatment and being a burden on the health service.  To that extent they are correct, but only just!

We all know that about four percent of condoms burst, split or have holes in them and let everything through.  This is the acceptable failure rate;  but it means that when our best girl goes out and fucks a hundred guys, uses condoms every time;  she might as well have picked four at random to fuck bareback!

What we didn't know, until it was dragged out into the public domain under the U.S.A. Freedom of Information Act, is that between a fifth and a third of condoms have micro-pores.  True these won't let semen through, but they will leak enough bacteria or viruses to cause a cross infection.  Now our best girl fucking the hundred guys with condoms every time, might as well have picked between twenty and thirty-three to fuck bareback (the difference presumably depending on the thickness of the latex).  Condoms only provide Safer Sex!  The health Authorities and the condom manufacturers were horrified, blustered and prevaricated, tried to get around releasing the information claiming that this would cause such a lack of faith in condoms that there would be an epidemic!  The lobbyists and the law prevailed, and the epidemic didn't happen.

There are other factors at play in the transmission of disease, many of which aren't fully understood.  Even with the Plague and Black Death only between a third and two-thirds of the population became infected despite most of the rest coming into contact with it.  The same public authorities who want to promote condoms as the solution to all our problems, actively discourage scientific research in this area in relation to S.T.D.s,  and certainly discourage publication of any that is done.  Again for fear that the public will abandon condoms. None of the bacterial or viral agents in S.T.D.s automatically infect everyone who comes into contact with them.  

There is good statistical evidence for circumcision in men.  The underside of the foreskin is horribly susceptible to transmission of infection, and is most likely to get little tears, abrasions and lesions which provide the pathway for infection straight into the blood stream;  The Glans Penis on the other hand is as tough as old boots, especially post circumcision, where it becomes more like normal skin and less like mucus-membrane.

There may even be anecdotal evidence for the phenomenon of Lucky Girls!    The girl who is a big secretor, the girl who gets very wet during foreplay, masturbation and sex, and produces a constant down-flow of vaginal secretion;  the Juicy Girls!.  This acts not only as a slightly acidic bactericide, and as a lubricant reducing the incidence of minor tears, abrasions and lesions which are the main pathways for infection  It also actually provides an effective barrier between the two parties in the act.  This is the Liquid Sheath,  (where the condom is the Latex Sheath).

The important thing we can all do in relation to Sexually Transmitted Diseases to just to accept that they can happen, and happen to us.  We need to talk to our partners;  all of them.  We need to go for check-ups, and we need to treat infections immediately we are aware of them.  If it makes it all easier we should be able to make jokes about them.  “I bet they put it about a bit, do you think we got a dose tonight Ha Ha Ha.”  We need to accept that it is probably going to happen to us, it will be no more one party's fault than another, there should be no recrimination;  unless casting blame in itself makes for good dirty conversation while having sex, in the same way you might call the girl you love a dirty slut. 

The most dangerous partners to have sex with are the ones who are in denial;  the ones who are really cheating, and don't dare spend half a day at the hospital in case someone finds out, either for a check-up or for remedial treatment

We just have to be seriously fatalistic about it all.  If we get a dose, we get a dose and we deal with it.  If it kills us, it kills us (and for a couple of decades that was a serious consideration), we're all going to die, but hopefully not this week or next.  We need to go at it like Gladiators!  Approach the shrine of Venus-Veneris with our weapons held proudly erect;  and raise our right hands with the immortal words;  “We Who Are About To Die Salute You”!

A significant number of clients seek to have unprotected sex with the prostitutes they pick up, probably more than half;  and there are enough girls prepared to provide this service to satisfy the demand.  The clients' motivations are various.  Some may have difficulty maintaining an erection while struggling with a condom (professionals have developed the “four finger stretch” and the knack of putting on a condom with their mouth to cope with this).  Some may seek the satisfaction of feeling the bare skin, and may need this to help them maintain an erection.  Some just get off on the risk, like those who embrace the risk of being caught having sex in public places, and this too may aid with getting and keeping it up.  While the older clients may have difficulty with prompt and sustainable erections, the young bucks who have no such problem and are just as keen on unprotected sex.  Picking up girls for sex can be a competitive business, old or young;  guys talk about it to each other.  They compare notes on the girls they meet;  they brag about how good a girl is, how “dirty” she is, what she will do for them, how cheap they are, or how generous a patron they can be for a particularity lovely, particularity enthusiastic, or particularity dirty girl.  Clients brag about having unprotected sex, and if you aren't prepared to take the risks, you're just a woose! 

Only the most deluded client who is seriously in denial believes that the girl he picks up is about to be faithful to him!  Clients are picking up girls who they know are having sex with other men, sometimes with large numbers of men.  The men tell each other all about it and there is little difficulty getting the girls themselves to brag about it.  A client knows that he is sharing a prostitute with the man he passed in the hallway, or whose car she just got out of.  She won't wash if the client wants to enjoy the aftermath and asks her not to.  She will probably arrange meetings for him with like-minded clients.  They will get to share her in the one bed together, she may even give them each a discount on her hourly rate

The prostitute’s motivation for having unprotected sex with their clients too, is various.  It can be sheer stupidity, there is no intelligence test for being a prostitute.  Women have been silly enough to believe that they can't get pregnant or an STD if they have sex standing up (as if gravity had anything to do with it)! Just because someone who sounded authoritative told them so.  Often their colleagues tell them that they've been doing it for years and have never caught anything.  Their clients beg them for it,  tell them it's safe and that all their friends are doing it.  And there is the money, but not all girls charge extra.  Some may leave home or the pub without any condoms and pick up a client,  they may say they were only expecting to perform oral sex that night.  Faced with a client with money in his hand asking for penetrative sex, they may just tell him to “tear away” do it without, rather than waste time buying condoms and risk loosing the business.  This is a Just This Once scenario which turns into Any Time It Suits.  Extended periods without getting an infection leads to complacency and doing it All The Time.  Occasionally a prostitute working and without condoms will face a doubting client,  here the reasons why having sex with her is safe are also interesting.  Simply “I'm clean” or “My boyfriend or one of my regulars would have told me if they caught anything from me” or “I go to the clinic” or “That's why you're paying me extra, to know I'm safe”.  And of course there is always the money;  however it is not only the drug addicts desperate for a fix,  or the alcoholics needing their next bottle to crawl into;  there are the gamblers, shoppers and party-goers who have blown everything and can't pay the rent, can't feed their children or can't afford the taxi home.  And surprisingly there is another safety factor;  it is almost certainly safer to have unprotected sex with one regular you know and trust, than to go alone to some dark place with two total strangers for the same money.

 

 

 

The Decline and Fall

I have seen worthy women like Diana and Jade supplementing their university grants fucking men who paid them, and go on to good careers.   Bella supported her husband’s academic education working on her back.  Gemma went on to do a degree at the Open University in Women's Studies just because she could.  

I have met several girls who went on to establish businesses for themselves (mostly in the service industries, beauticians, hairdressers and personal trainers) and made ends meet fucking punters until those businesses finally paid off;  and seen one or two return to the street as the concern went through a bad patch or needed a cash boost to get a new lease on premises.

I have known girls (and couples) who have had a house fire, had no contents insurance, and have literally been left with the clothes they stood up in.  We have all applauded as our heroine went out and fucked for furniture and everything else they needed to recreate a home for themselves and their families;  and kept on fucking to pay for a holiday to help them get over it all.

I have known bullied and maligned wives like Kelly who had to fight for years before the courts finally got their tight-fisted ex husbands to pay up;  just managing to survive and still able to keep their children in school, because they too could go out and get fucked for money.  

In our modern society which embraces both serial monogamy and common-law marriage;  we have all seen the girls who have been dumped by their partners become totally dependent on the benefit system with no hope of spousal support.  We have seen them reappear on the street every time one of their relationships ends.  If you are a single mother it is easy to get a baby-sitter for an evening, it doesn’t help you get a proper job;  but it lets you get out for long enough to do a couple of punters and get a quick money fix.

Then of course, there are the girls who are just subsiding their dissolute lifestyle;  but if they want to drink, smoke, party and buy clothes that they couldn't otherwise afford, they are perfectly entitled to go get fucked for it all.  Building a career and avoiding destitution are not the only valid reasons for whoring, possibly in this case, it becomes a vocation!

With increasing prosperity in the town centre, and following complaints from restaurateurs and residents in new apartment blocks the police decided that they would have to take some sort of action to reduce the ancient and beloved trade.  But, even then the police did not make arrests.  They merely acted in restraint of trade;  issued a few official cautions to girls and kerb-crawlers alike to frighten them away;  and would simply stand and talk to girls for an hour or two at a time on a street corner, until the girls went home disgusted.  It was much more humane and of course more cost effective!  No paperwork, no time wasted in the courts.

There had been so many girls about, offering it all up (or at least offering some of it up) that the damaged girls, the broken girls weren't highly visible apart from a few incorrigible drunks.  It was only when the area began to run down that the more up-market and higher minded trollops were the ones to disappear from the scene first, making us more aware of the others.  Like all the sensible girls they saw their regulars away from the area anyway.  Now recruitment of new blood was increasingly on the internet or elsewhere, modern methods for modern times.  Some of the damaged girls, particularly the drunks, had no access to computers, if you gave them one they'd have swapped it for a bottle of vodka anyway;  worse they couldn't even hold onto a mobile phone for more than a day or two without loosing it;  and with it their means of being contacted by their punters.  Sadly they look like becoming our last hope of getting a fuck on the street!

A few years ago there was this lovely girl called Valerie, a working class family's one, bright, grammar school girl.  Following two disastrous marriages during which she turned to drink, she broke out on her own;  and had a series of short term relationships, popping up on the street briefly as each one failed in turn, just to get her act back together again until she found another guy.  She disappeared for about three years to Spain with a couple where they ran a glorified pub, in which she was the cook.  The project finally failed, partly because Val was drinking the bar dry very night.  She reappeared and I met her again through a further series of short term relationships.  For every meeting I arrived with a bottle of vodka in my hand, all her other guys supplied her with drink too.  She always seemed to have her act together, and never gave the appearance of being really drunk despite the fact she was consuming the most of two bottles a day.  

She was interested in stuff I was writing, criticised it constructively, and I regularly bought her dinner.  She would occasionally phone me to recount a particularly interesting sexual adventure.  Then her health deteriorated, her liver and kidneys started to fail, and she just would not stop drinking.  She died in hospital surrounded by her family, demanding to be put in a wheelchair and taken out for a smoke!  A half bottle of vodka was found in her bedside locker, which someone had smuggled into hospital for her.  This girls drinking was caused by lack of support from anyone during two brutal marriages, everyone seemed to tell her she just had to put up with it all.  Prostitution was what allowed her to survive without being in a dependant relationship.  The saddest part, is that so many women seem to need to be defined by the man in their life.  

I've known two other hookers who literally drank themselves to death,  both as a result of family circumstances, and again prostitution was what gave them the little financial freedom they had.  But even with the drunks, it's not all bad news.  Another, really pretty young girl called Wendy was renowned for drinking so much that she passed out in peoples beds and didn't come-to until the morning, or passed out in the backs of guys cars.  I've witnessed one demented punter trying to persuade her sisters-in-sin to lift her out of his car and take her off his hands!  She got in with a guy who was a controlling drunken bully, but wouldn't have a bad word said about him, she loved him! Her looks deteriorated, she had bruises, she wasn't allowed to wear anything pretty, he had her begging in the street.  One night we were all horrified to see her bedding down on a doorstep because she was afraid to go home.  To everyone's relief he was put in jail (unrelated matter) and she disappeared for a few weeks with everyone wondering if she was okay.  Then she reappeared again, looking like a million dollars, new place, new guy who seems to be looking after properly, and, under his influence, she hasn't had a drink in over a month.

One only ever heard about drug addicts in conversation with other girls.  While there was always talk about soft drugs in relation to partying, to hear that so-and-so was in hospital with an overdose, because someone had sold her bad gear, was quite an unusual event;  or so it seemed to me.  There was this American girl I took out to dinner once.  She held her knife and fork like a mad cack-handed butcher!  I didn't have the courage to buy her dinner again;  but I saw her in a television interview some time later, talking about the trials and tribulations of being a heroin addict.  Apparently she had talked about prostitution as her means of support, but that was deleted from the final cut as being too much information for the viewing public.  

There were these three very skinny girls, you could have played the xylophone on their ribs!  The oldest one must have been in her seventies and looked like a skeleton dressed in Lycra with a peroxide top-knot.  They would all have made good pull-throughs for a rifle!   Someone had unkindly christened them The Three Horsewomen of the Apocalypse, Famine, Plague and Death!  Considering the association between intravenous drug use and AIDS, Plague (her name was Antonia) 

was a heroin addict.  I got to know Tony well enough to have her friend-me on Facebook;  and followed her progress from that distance, through cleaning up her act, and up to the point that she got her children returned to her from care.  So even the drug addicts are not all bad news.

I would argue that sex as an addiction does in fact have a chemical component, Oxytocin, the feel-good endocrine secretion we all produce when we're having fun;  but the people who go about declaring other people to be sex addicts still seem to rely too much on the prejudices of the priests, clergy and nuns for their definition of how much of a good thing we should all be allowed!

Gambling  is just as much of an addiction as anything else, even if it doesn't have a chemical component.  And there are clearly a few gambling addicts financing their habit by being on the game.  My good friend Penny, First succeeded in getting away from recreational drugs on the party scene even though her friends still used them all around her.  Facing a gambling habit which saw Penny penniless and borrowing money from loan-sharks to gamble with interest at thousands of per-cent per annum;  she signed all the documents to have herself barred from every one of the gambling establishments and joined Gamblers Anonymous.  She grimly paid off all her debts on her back.  Today she can go with friends for an evening's Bingo, put a couple of pounds in a machine and walk away!  She even successfully gave up smoking!  She still doesn’t seem to ever have two pennies to rub together and will occasionally grit her teeth and perfunctory do a punter or two to make ends meet;  sadly she never enjoyed the sex.

I've only seen girls displaying visible bruises a few of times,  some of these women are serial victims, they no sooner get shot of one bullying partner but they seem to immediately find another thug just as bad to take his place.  There is always a great deal of satisfaction in seeing these girls find their freedom;  and frequently whoring is the one successful way of gaining their independence to escape the clutches of someone who's only advantage had been some degree of financial stability.

Dealing with friends who are damaged in any of these contexts can be difficult.  All your best advice is often ignored, sometimes better not to give the advice, they've heard it all before anyway.  Trying to rescue them should always involve giving them a meal, buying them cigarettes, putting money on their phone, on their gas or electricity cards.  Giving them a lift home when they're stranded and taking them into a late night shop on the way.  Buy them the few groceries they ask for and a few extra things to stock their cupboards;  but never (or seldom) give them money since this may just exacerbate their problem.  Never lend them money, or let them promise you favours in return;  always tell them it's a gift.  They'll seldom pay you back anyway, and may fall out with you on the assumption that you'll fall out with them for non-payment of the debt.  They'll love you all the more and you'll probably get the favours anyway, at least at a discount, but never demand them.

 

 

 

Erica

Well the Red Light District hasn't quite expired yet despite the police.   In the last year there have been at least three new faces who greatly improve the look of the place and compliment the damaged girls who looked like being it's last remnants.  Bonnie is a skinny red-head,  Candy is a tall leggy Polish girl,  and Destiny is a beautiful blonde who is from the next town over and works from the comfort of her own car.  They are all pleasant and accommodating, don't rush their punters, but they all dutifully put condoms on everything, and I mean everything.  Bonnie only charges half of what the other two do.  Occasionally other girls appear,  new girls and old hands alike, but most of them are put off by the lack of punters and don't appear very often.

Erica is one of the regulars,  she has been working for about three or four years.  When I first met her she was in the clutches of a lesbian butch dyke pimp driven around by her pet taxi driver.  I could never understand why she should hand over half her earnings to her.  To give Erica her due, she started to come into town only when her pimp was elsewhere, and tell the pimp she wasn't available when she was about.  The  old bag soon gave up in disgust, and left her to get on with it as an independent.  Most girls make a big thing about being independent because the punters don't like their money going to anyone else but their girl, so this improved her chances of getting business.

The first time I met her she took me quite a way out of town, she had condoms and was using them, and she was still very wet from her last fuck.  Fortunately condoms are decently tasteless today, and I didn't taste them off her.  I paid her extra to keep for herself since her pimp was expecting her to charge the standard rate.  The second time she had run out of condoms and fucked me bareback, her pimp knew about her lack of condoms and only expected her to charge me for a blow-job, so she got to keep even more.  As soon as her pimp abandoned her I started to see her regularly.  With the reduced business in the town she does a lot of hand-jobs and blow-jobs which can't be much fun, but then a fair amount of prostitution is just that, drudgery.  Thankfully she has built up a fair stable of regulars, most of whom she half-way fancies and does about half of them bareback.  As often as not she hasn't any condoms with her, which hardly matters when she does so many blow-jobs;  but when a guy wants a fuck the money is by far the most important factor, and she just lets them tear away, her words, though I've used them elsewhere in the same context.  

She'll come into town early on the bus, and I would drive her twenty miles home and take her to bed if the house was empty.  Sometimes when I drove past she would flag me down, jump into the car and tell me about the regular she'd just fucked;  and let me feel her sticky cunt.  Occasionally we would drive round a corner into a dark place, I'd walk around the car, she'd swing her legs out, and I'd get a lick.  I've driven her to meet regulars in their own homes, waited for her and had her afterwards.  I've taken her dogging where she got well groped and mostly sucked a few cocks;  one of her regulars met us dogging and she sucked both of us in turn, but she made him pay for it.  I got quite a few photos of her during the same summer I got so many of Sue, and in some of the same venues.

How ever much money she earned, she never seemed to have a penny to her name, I was always helping her out.  She would phone me occasionally:  tell me she was broke, couldn't pay this, or had no money for that;  and I would put some cash directly into her bank account.  Then one day, some time after she had got into town and it was raining, she asked me to pick her up and take her the few hundred yards to her favourite street to start work.  When I picked her up, she walked out of a gambling arcade.  You know the sort of place, slot machines you can win over a thousand pounds on, but which in reality only pay out about twenty or thirty percent of the cash that is put into them.  The management even give you free tea, coffee and sandwiches as long as you keep putting your money into their machines.  Damn-it, if you are going to gamble you need to own the shop!  

One night I spotted her at about eleven, heading back to the street from the direction of the gambling den.  She told me she had made over two hundred pounds earlier;  enough to pay her back rent that she owed, get electricity, gas and shopping for the weekend;  and she'd blown the lot in less than an hour on the machines.  She was just going to have to start all over again!  That night she was in luck, the punters were there in fair numbers, all out to get their hole, and she hadn't much competition.  She fucked, sucked, took risks, gave discounts, no reasonable financial offer was turned down;  she made her money again!  She was really in a sticky mess when I drove her home, about the state you would have imagined Sue to have been in after the football team!

Of course I still pay her for the time she spends with me. (Paying by the hour was always fairer to the girls than my paying a flat rate for their service, after all I tended to take much more time with them.) However I stopped giving her money just out of love and affection, whenever she was broke.  I would buy her dinner and cigarettes (I was doing that anyway) put money on her phone, gas and electricity, and take her shopping.  There was no point fighting with her, telling her how to run her life.  I assume that there were plenty of other people doing that, and she knew Penny, and had seen how well she had turned her back on gambling.  I just have to hope that she will one day extract her head from out of her arse, see what she's doing, and change her ways.

Erica has a boyfriend;  she loves him, he loves her for exactly who and what she is;  he loves her being a bad girl.  She sees him about twice a week;  she doesn't charge him, and he doesn't seem to be making any contribution financial or otherwise to her lifestyle;  but she is content in his company those couple of times a week;  and either doesn't know or doesn't care that he drives around and talks to the other girls on the street.

She also has a sugar-daddy even if she isn't on speaking terms with him most of the time.  Even when they are on good terms she tells her friends that “he's old, fat and shit in bed”.  He spends his time trying to control and change her, while simultaneously spending money on her.  He wants to control what she wears, who she meets, where she goes;  even wants her to stop seeing members of her extended dysfunctional family;  and definitely wants her off the game.  When he doesn't get his way he becomes threatening, and she blows him out again!

If someone like me (not like her boyfriend or sugar-daddy) were to  take her in hand, we would have to do it sympathetically and from our love for her.  She would need all her bills paid for her so as not to tempt her to try and double the money on the machines (and inevitably loose it).   She would need an account with a taxi firm so she could always be able to get home when she'd blown everything she had.  We would have to simply have to accept her fucking for the cash to gamble with.  After-all we all (except her sugar-daddy) love her being a bad girl, that’s what makes her so much more fun, so much more exciting, so much more beautiful!

Erica has taken up with this really nice, decent guy called Jake.  He's a punter, he pays her for her time, generously, and for a couple of hours at a time, and a couple of times a week.  He took her to the dogging car parks occasionally and she not only got groped and sucked a few cocks, she fucked a couple of guys too.  He told her how much he enjoyed it, sharing her that is, and she promptly recruited me for a threesome.  We met and fucked her in turn, each fucked her while she was sucking the other's cock.  We quickly moved our meets to a flat or a hotel room where we could get all our kit off and didn't have to look over our shoulders, though we miss having an audience and her occasionally getting another guy to join us.  We drop her off with regulars, drive her home, all the good stuff.  We'll definitely be taking her dogging again!  It is really lovely and rewarding, when she is fucking us both together to hear her say, “I love my job, when I get to do this!”

 

 

 

Conclusion

In conclusion, we have to set aside the behaviour of the Pimps, the Criminals and the Criminal Gangs who trade in women.  Their behaviour towards women is so horrifically wrong that they should all be castrated, locked up for life, or decently topped.  We have to set aside the fact that in our modern society, Polyandrous relationships, where a woman is supported by several men, have to be conducted in secret, on dark street corners, or the Internet’s equivalent of the dark street corner.  Because our historical and pre-historical polyandrous ancestors conducted these affairs entirely openly and this was simply the accepted practice;  we need to work today  towards this, and make it our goal.  We even have to set aside the lovely pretty modern notion of our horny heroine being happily married to half a dozen men, however nice that notion might be.  This again was not quite how it happened with our ancestors.  

The polyandrous family unit was much more fluid than that.  Historically we recognise that a third of the younger women died in childbirth.  Those that survived went on to have about twenty pregnancies, perhaps ten of their children survived to one year, seven or eight until their teens.  But we also have to realise that more than half of the young men died doing dangerous things, in their  teens, twenties and into their thirty’s before they became the family elders.  There was fighting, feuding, raiding, hunting, trading up and down rivers, along the coast and on short stretches of open sea.  To say nothing of construction, forging and metalwork, all without any Health and Safety, or life-jackets.  Our idyllic family unit, that band of brothers, trading across the channel with a couple of boats, would have two households and two wives, one in each port.  When they lost a ship at sea, and it's entire crew, they would have to induct new brothers into the family, and into their wives' bed, build a new boat and get on with their lives.  

The polyandrous family unit had a pecking order, there was Number One Husband, number two husband, number three etc.. The empowered wife who ran the home with a rod of iron, had her own labour force of the other younger women and all the prepubescent children doing their chores.  She would have two or three primary partners, a few secondary partners and more tercery partners on the family's periphery; to say nothing of the job of training in her replacement(s).

If we are to embrace the notion of a group of men championing protecting and supporting one wife, lover, heroine or whore,  we have to abandon all modern notions of jealousy and constancy.  We have to accept that she can love us all after a fashion.  The older guys will have to accept the younger ones may become her favourite studs.  If there is any jealousy, it has to be good jealous, constructive jealousy, jealousy that just makes us love her all the more.

The Marquis de Sade wrote a dirty book called Juliette, about two hundred years ago.  (I don't recommend it, she may have been a prolific trollop, but she was worse.  She went around the streets of Paris with her maid, coachman and footman, handing out poison sweets to children.) I quoted a line from it earlier about getting pregnant.  They put de Sade into a lunatic asylum for expressing his point of view.  That bad was good, and wicked was even better!  That promiscuity was normal behaviour.  I hope that the powers-that-be don't take the same attitude to this piece!

Juliette was written in the first person, it was written as if it was her own story.  I thought it might be a nice touch to write my glorious heroine's point of view in the first person as well.

 

 

 

The Hooker's Tale

Recounted during her holy pilgrimage with her sinful sistern and their devoted slaves, along the Street of Shame, to the Sacred Shrine of the Dress Shop and the Champagne Bar. (with apologies to Geoffrey Chaucer)

 

What is it about all the dirty fuckers who pick up hookers like me in the street.  

There is certainly none of this shite about virginity and fidelity.  Except for a deluded 

few, they all want dirty girls.  They want high-risk sex with dirty sluts who will give 

them a dose as like as not.  They want to stick their dirty dicks in a filthy hole that 

still has the last guy's spunk in it.  They'll pay extra for bareback;  pay extra to take 

the risks.  They can't be completely taken in by our lame excuses about why it's safe, why we must be clean;  and we only make those excuses because we want their money!  “I have a couple of regulars, I'm sure that they'd tell me if I gave them something”.  Yeah right, I may have done twenty guys since I saw one of them last!  Or, “I go to the clinic for check-ups occasionally, when I have the time”.  The last time I wasted in one of those places was for a course of antibiotics!  Or, “that's why you pay me extra, to know I'm safe”!  Yeah, that puts you right up there amongst the elite three hundred!   All a lot of fuckin' shite!  

You pick me up offering sex for money to strangers in the street and I tell you 

I'm a virgin, you know I'm a liar.   I tell you that I don't usually do this, I'm a liar, 

I'm doing it every night.  I tell you that I always use condoms but I'll go bareback with 

you as a special favour;  God help us, you have to know I'm lying through my teeth. If a hooker offers to give you a big wet kiss, you know she kisses everybody;  If she sucks your bare cock, she does it for everybody;  think about that when you're kissing her.  You do think about it!   You're turned on by it!  If she says that she doesn't have any covers and it's okay or offers bareback for a little extra, you have to know for a certainty that she is doing exactly the same for every other dirty fucker she meets.  And you love it!  Because she's the girl most of you will pick-up from preference and pay extra if you have to.  At some point we have to ask ourselves why you dirty fuckers are so fascinated by dirty dangerous sex.

And it gets worse.  While some working girls have husbands and boyfriends in 

denial, at least half I know, the guys are seriously getting off on all the dirty things 

their girl is doing.  They can't keep their hands their off partners, nor their dicks out 

of them when they get home stinking of sex.  This is why the most successful relationship a hooker can be in is with an ex-punter;  he has no illusions about her and loves her for who and what she is.  So now it's not just our punters who are dirty fuckers, it's most of our partners as well;  they actively want to share us, and seem to want to risk getting a dose every single time they do.  

Well just look around you on the internet;  there are dedicated websites for “Swinging”,” Cuckolding”,  “Wife and Girlfriend Sharing” and “Dogging”.  World wide these sites have millions of members and an even larger number of browsers and voyeurs.  There are just a vast number of men who actively want to share the women they love with either friends or strangers or both. They want to see the woman they love actively fucking other men,  be with them when they're doing it, taste the guys off them, lick the “Studs” and “Bulls” spunk out of their cunts, and have a glorious fuck with them all dirty, sticky and unwashed.  And they get off on the risks.  Most of the Swingers Clubs have “Greedy-Girls nights” just for this purpose.  Dogging may have been an British invention;  but it too caters for sex with friends and strangers in public places and car parks.

And the bad girls, the hookers and whores like me are getting in on the act.  

There are far more dirty fuckers out there looking for multiple-partner sexual 

relationships than girls willing to be their “Partners in Sin”.  Vive la difference!  I'm 

not just here to give you a quick dirty fuck, or even a long drawn out one and dinner.  I will be your wife or girlfriend for the evening to meet another couple, or girl, or guy;  

I'll happily go to parties and clubs with you and fuck everybody you want me to;  I'll go dogging with you and be as dirty as you like;  you just have to pay me.  I can be 

discrete, we can rehearse our “married history” in advance.  No one need ever know that I'm a whore or that you're paying me;  and you get to share a girl you love and adore (or would like to love and adore) with all and sundry.  You get your dirty fantasy;  I get my dirty cash.

Sadly there are some police, politicians, jurists and religious nuts out there who don't approve of what dirty fuckers like you, your few proper partners-in-sin, and the dirty whores like me who stand in for the rest, are doing.  Can you believe it, they seem to think that it's wrong somehow;  that we're all sinners and are in need of punishment for doing what comes naturally to us.  Give or take the nasty pimps who would like to prey on sluts like me and the sad wives and girlfriends who are amazed when you give them a dose, no one is getting hurt.  The first is everyone’s problem and we need to gang up on them, the second is your problem and you may be better off without them and stick with me and all my thoroughly honest, if indecent, dirty and wanton sisters.  The really big question isn't that we all love being dirty, and I and my sisters get paid for it;  that you fuck us and we make our living out of it.  The real question is why does anybody think it could possibly be wrong!

  It's all down to some fucking outdated religious ethic, where the men are supposed to be in charge, they are supposed to own their women, the women are supposed to be their slaves!  Men are supposed to be homicidally jealous if another man even looks at his wife, and be ready to murder them both.  But the guys we know are begging their mates to fuck their wives, or at least to fuck surrogate wives like me, just so they can lick the spunk out of our cunts, and fuck us after, all dirty slippery and dangerous.  We have to look back to before the old grey-bearded bastard in the sky, smiting us with plague, pestilence and flood and demanding that we put money in his collection plate to pay his servants and conmen. We need to look back  farther to the days of randy Goddesses;  where the women got to fuck all the guys in the village in a mad orgy to make sure the crops grew.  At least they got it half way right.  You guys need to have the right to get your hole and have it as dirty as you like;  to worship your favourite whores (and I really hope that at least some of your wives and girlfriends are in there too) and we whores need the right to be worshipped, looked after, and kept in the style to which we're accustomed.  And never forget,  the best reward for good dirty sex, is good dirty cash.  We have a sacred duty to each other, to pass around the spunk and the cash, and to keep all the doctors in the clinics in gainful employment, as well as all us deliciously dirty whores.

Nancy

My delving into the Escort site had got me interested in using it to find new people for myself.  A high proportion of the local profiles hadn't been accessed by their principals for a long time and had effectively been abandoned;  the site must have only kept them on to bulk up their listing and for the casual browsers to leer over.  Fortunately they all gave the date last accessed and were easy to put on my blacklist.  I methodically sent the most promising ones emails on the site and had a few mediocre if rather expensive encounters from those who replied.  One girl was great, I saw her several times, but I gave up after a while when I failed to wean her off using condoms.  Some never turned up and cost me a hotel booking since I wasn't prepared to bring them back to the flat first time.  Then I tried the couples advertising for escort work.  There were far fewer of them and only one looked promising, I don't now remember what their work-names were on the site;  but Nancy and her partner George arrived in my cheap hotel room for their one hour appointment prompt and on time.  As we had discussed in our previous email exchange, Nancy was wearing nothing but shoes and an overcoat, she dropped the coat as she walked through the door;  this had always been one of Diana's and Maddie's favourite things to do on a first meeting!  She put the money away in her bag and took out a couple of condoms and left them on the bedside table.  After the hour was up, we'd both fucked her twice, the condoms were still sitting there all lonely and unwanted;  and unused.  She was a great kisser, seriously multi-orgasmic, liked to get two cocks in her at the one time, one in her pussy and one in her bum,  and her bum opened up like a flower for just a little lick.  Anal was never my first choice of entry although I've obliged a few girls who were keen on it;  I generally left her bum to George.  She loved getting oral from both of us and George was just as keen to have her explode in his face as I was.  After our first meeting I ended up with both their phone numbers.

They weren't a real couple;  she was divorced with a twenty-year-old daughter and her own place;  he was married with a wife at home who had no idea what he was doing!  They were only together for sex, and a little bit of money.  I say a little bit, it was just as much for the adventure.  Working their way through their relatively few on-line offers, and Nancy refusing to see about half of them a second time,  she was only building up a small if loyal clientele.  This was a girl who loved sex but did not have the nerve to work on the street or go dogging.  George's attempt to arrange a gang-bang for her almost petered out when only four of us arrived out of the promised eight; again the condoms were on the table, again they were never used, probably because I got to set the example.  George worked night shifts about half the time;  he didn't seem to have any objection to my taking her out when he was unavailable;  I never encroached on his nights.  We did dinner, we did overnights, I took her to see a few regulars in George's place, and one of the guys who turned up for the gang-bang and I organised a proper event for her, where eleven of us had her over about five hours.  If she was too scared to go dogging, and I did try, she felt safe and secure with George or me or the gang-bang guy walking through a stranger's door, all set to fuck for England! She didn't even need a drink to steady her nerves.  

George had a fancy digital camera and I had my camera-phone, we both took pictures of everything that moved in those bedrooms.  Nancy seemed to have absolutely no concern whatsoever about what we might do with the pictures.  I knew that George was carefully cropping faces on her photos on the escort site where we wrote glorious references and reviews of her sexual prowess, but beyond that I don't know what he did with them.  I was equally careful about publicly posting them on the Internet;  but it was lovely actually having pictures with me in them.  In almost all my dirty photos I was behind the camera, even if I did risk injury, loosing my erection or blinding myself with the flash in the mirror to actually get myself in the frame.  Now, courtesy of George, I was one of the subjects.  Some of the pictures I've managed to crop or fudge for posting, and it's great knowing that it's my cock in that pussy when previously it was only all the other dirty fuckers' cocks;  and I have a very private collection of me, hugging, kissing, fucking, licking and having my face sat on, of which I'm immensely proud!

We met up together and in various groups depending on who was free for nearly a year, at her place, my place, hotels, punters houses, gang-bangs and wherever.  Then suddenly she just seemed to evaporate;  no forwarding address, phone dead, email abandoned, daughter no longer living in the area either;  George had no idea where she had gone.  Discrete inquiries through the daughter's employer suggested that they departed for Ireland together to look after Nancy's father.  George soon had another girl with a profile on line, but she must have been twenty-five stone and was about as much fun as a beached whale.  He hasn't come up with anyone better since.

 

 

Opal

Opal had started her career as one of Ernie' girls, working on the street to help fund her dissolute lifestyle which her good, full-time job wouldn't quite cover;  it was party, party, party, every night!  She came to it with all the glee and carelessness and unprotected sex that stemmed from Ernie's careful grooming and mentoring.  She was a lovely girl, and I took her back to the flat from the outset, so as to spend time with her and make love.  Later when she'd blown Ernie out and was only working occasionally I took her to Penny's flat just because they were out together and were heading there anyway with another punter.  

Penny was an old friend, she'd been a working girl for twenty years;  I had no interest in her sexually, since for her it all was just drudgery, something she did for the money and got over with as quickly as possible.  However, in her early career I had truly adored her best friend Robyn, an absolutely lovely girl, high boots, short skirt, always a big smile, and she would just give it all up in bed when I licked her pussy.  According to Penny, my diligently licking Robyn's pussy was what really did it for her, and Penny seemed find it quite hilarious;  she told me that I was mad!  I would always have given Penny a lift home, bought her a meal or bought her cigarettes if she'd had a bad night, I happily settled for a big hug;  as I said, just good friends.  

Not enjoying sex, she would delegate wherever possible and let other girls use her flat, I assume she was getting some payment for the accommodation, although I never saw money change hands;  maybe she didn't, certainly she had a fair portion of the milk of human kindness about her.  I waited patiently and chatted to Penny while Opal did the other punter.  Penny saw the guy out the door when he was done and I slipped into the bedroom.  Opal was lying on the bed and hadn't bothered getting dressed.  I stripped quickly and dived in.  From the outset it was obvious that Ernie's training had paid off and she was just as careless as ever.  I was licking significant quantities of spunk out of her, and slid my cock into the rest, deep inside.  I gather that neither she nor Penny had any idea who the punter was, and I have no idea if he was her first that night.  Opal was a beautiful girl and a really great, enthusiastic fuck;  I saw her occasionally when she wanted a few pounds, in the flat, or a hotel;  she was an intelligent companion too, so I took her out to dinner.  I was just as much in love with her as the rest;  maybe more than most.

For some reason I didn't see her for about eight months;  then there she was again, standing on the street.  It was early and neither of us had eaten so I took her for a meal, the proper thing, three courses and a bottle of wine.  She had the key to Penny's flat and had left her motorbike there, well it was more of a scooter than a real bike.  So after dinner she phoned Penny, and we repaired to her flat for a nice long fuck.  But that wasn't the end of the story;  a couple of months later Penny called me and told me that Opal was desperately trying to establish the exact date of our last meeting, she was pregnant.  I was able to look up my credit card receipt and got back to Penny who by now had Opal's due date.  She must have been five weeks gone when we met.  I decently bought baby presents including a pre-decimalisation half-crown minted the year I was born.  I still love Opal, three children later by as many fathers and see her occasionally.  I'm afraid for some reason I am drawn to quote the character Juliet, from the book of the same name by the Marquis de Sade;  “When you fall into a rose bush, do you ask which thorn pricked you?”  She really ought to have blamed her dentist!  He gave her the antibiotic that briefly nullified the effect of her contraceptive hormone implant.

 

 

 

Cuckolding

Cuckold is a abusive term from the monogamous patriarchal era used to describe a man who's wife has cheated on him, worse still a man who has allowed this to happen and not suitably disciplined, beaten or murdered her in retaliation for her sin!  Wearing the horns of a Cuckold refers to the horns of rutting stags which loose all rights to their mates when successfully challenged by a new alpha male;  or the horns of the old fertility gods, from the pre-patriarchal era.  While cuckoldry has been a normal part of our ancestors multi-partner sexual relationships for half a million years and more, and has for the last few thousand only survived here and there in dark corners;  it has suddenly blossomed as a life-style on the internet in the last decade or so.  

The main cuckold website in the UK has one hundred and thirty thousand members, equivalent sites in North America have around two and a half million.  Cuckoldry on these sites does not all revolve around joyously conniving at the women we love having various sexual relationships with other men for both our own, and their enjoyment.  Some of it involves a sad humiliation fetish for impotent men and those with only little dicks;  the idea that you're not a proper cuckold unless you are being humiliated is entirely wrong.  People in this community have reacted against the whole sad bit,  and set up Wife and Girlfriend Sharing sites which don't place the same stress on humiliation.  In both sorts of site, men get to enjoy posting detailed accounts and photographs of the women they love with other men, and are proud to show off their wives and partners in a variety of forums on these sites.  

There are forums with pictures of wives and girlfriends actively having sex with other men.  Creampie forums showing them with spunk oozing out of their cunts, always supposedly the other guy’s spunk, not the husband's.  Forums dedicated to wives and girlfriends who  fuck colleagues at work, sometimes their bosses, and proudly bring the evidence home to their partners, the oozing spunk captured in their knickers.  Forums dedicated to girls who go out on the pull, to find strangers to have sex with in pubs and clubs and to how dirty they are when they return;  and ones dedicated to how these girls dress  to go out on these adventures.  Dogging forums proudly show these girls fucking strangers in car parks and al fresco elsewhere.  Further forums are dedicated to cheating wives wearing wedding rings;  and wearing ankle bracelets which are supposed to be a sign that they have their husband’s permission to cheat.

And it's not just pictures in the forums, there are long descriptions of events, and hosts of replies from viewers of the site, telling you what a beautiful slut your wife is, and offering to top her up with another load of spunk for you both to enjoy.  In the midst of all these vast numbers of entirely civilised people revelling in the glorious libidos of their wives and girlfriends, there are ones who want to be even dirtier!  In our recently post-racist society, there are the girls seeking B.B.C. (Big Black Cock) and husbands and boyfriends actively encouraging them to be defiled, by a big buck nigger, just for them!  There are girls who from theirs and their partner's posts are working either part-time or full-time as escorts;  and you must remember that there are women posting on these sites too.  Posts from either party suggesting how much dirtier it would be if the girl was being paid for it;  random strangers just not being good enough!  Posts with photos asking everyone on the site just how much they would be prepared to pay to fuck this girl!  Posts planning gang-bangs for girls where most of the volunteers want to have her last, when she would be at her messiest, even if you'd have automatically assumed that this was always the loving husband's privilege.  The concentration and even insistence on unprotected sex in cuckold meetings and when dogging, far outstrips the fetish for it amongst swingers, and punters with whores on the street.

All my discovery of cuckold sites online did for me was to confirm that I was on the right track.  This was something I had been doing for years and loved, I'd just never put a name on it.  If anything it made me feel more justified in my delight with the company of bad girls, and dirty girls who were just so much more exciting than the other sort.  It further directed me to research the history of sexual physiology, hence the few references herein.  Naturally I posted my best pictures on the main sites, always trying to protect the identity of the subjects.  Ernie's discrete pictures of Maddy, and all George's and my pictures of Nancy that could be cropped and fudged;  and I was delighted with their reception.  I posted a few articles about the history of human sexual behaviour on a number of sites and got a few encouraging comments, but I think most of the members and random browsers preferred looking at the pictures, short comments and one-liners.  I also wrote a Mission Statement for the main site which was posted elsewhere as well.  Everyone has to have a Mission Statement.  Now-a-days, you could be suspected of burglary, mugging, fraud, maybe even of rape or murder and be let out on bail until the evidence gets lost, or get off with a rap on the knuckles;  but fail to have a Mission Statement and society will shun you!

 

 

 

Mission Statement

This site is dedicated to the empowerment, ennoblement, even the deification of those glorious women who make the all difference in the world.  We are told that sixty percent of men have extra-marital affairs, and that forty percent of women do.  Vive la difference!  We dedicate ourselves to the glory of those wonderfully libidinous women who gleefully and wantonly take up the slack (or indeed the stiffness), and make the system work.

We defer to them wholeheartedly as their willing and dedicated champions and protectors.  No man will shame them, shun them or raise a hand to hurt them without answering to us.  We will open doors for them, hold their coats (or their knickers), stand up when they come into the room, throw our coats onto puddles for them to walk over, kiss their feet and be ready at all times to give them cunnilingus on demand. 

We will cooperate and connive with them in their wanton need to kiss, hug, be felt-up by and to flirt outrageously with all and sundry.  We will keep open house for their boyfriends, lovers and one-night-stands. We will happily accompany them when they are, out on the pull. Encourage them to wear no underwear and the shortest of dresses. Or send them out on their own whenever they prefer, on condition that they bring home evidence of their shamelessness.  It is never the duty of these divine beings to service the men in their lives;  it is their men's duty to service them, and be thankful for it.  We will dutifully fix them up, with friends and strangers alike, indulge all their pretty peccadilloes and set out to fulfil their every deliciously dangerous and dirty desire.

We will brook no criticism of this their selfishly sacred mission in life, for it is their due.  We will accept not a single slur upon their characters, and turn the vulgar epithets addressed to them into expressions of our love, adoration and devotion.  These are Holy Women, Sacred Vessels of the Earth Goddess, upon whose love and lust the World turns; upon whom the continence, prosperity and fertility of the State depends.  We deem them to be Without Sin

 

 

 

Sue

One night when I was driving aimlessly through the district about midnight with snow on the ground, no plans to pick up anyone, not even a lot of money in my pocket;  I saw this girl.  I'd seen her before in passing,  usually when I was preoccupied with someone else.  Or I'd only caught a glimpse of her in a doorway, or leaning in through the window of a punter's car, and she'd been gone before I got back around the block.  This night I saw her get out of a car in front of me, onto an empty street, for that brief moment there was  no competition and I pulled straight in alongside her nearly clipping the back bumper of the car driving off.  Most girls have a price list starting with a hand-job, a blow-job, and sex;  extras come much later in the conversation, if there are any extras to be had.  She was slim and pretty with shoulder length hair, only five foot, in boots and a short coat open down the front, a flimsy top with obviously no bra under it and a very short skirt.  Her prices were for sex and anal, followed by the mater-of-fact announcement that she had no condoms.  The prices were right at the bottom of the range, there were girls charging half as much again or even twice as much.

Having just more than enough cash on me without needing to go to an A.T.M. I got her into the car as quickly as possible before she got a better offer.  Establishing what I was likely to be getting for my money, I asked if I could have kisses and lick her pussy.  With a twinkle in her eye, or what I took to be a twinkle in the semi-darkness, she asked “Are you sure you want to kiss me and lick my pussy, you don't know where I've been?”  I thought my response was quite good at this short notice,  “If I'd met you at a Sunday School picnic I wouldn't know where you've been,  but I've met you in the street selling your body to total strangers, so I have to have a fairly good idea!”  She just laughed and said,  “On your head be it, don't say I didn't warn you!”

She took me to a car park only a hundred yards away, these girls know all the best places to go for a fuck, and usually use different places to avoid being spotted and caught.  It's not like the police bothered to prosecute the girls any more,  but they just liked to know where to park to sneak up on foot and shine their torches into the car;  ask you what you were doing there, ask your names and tell you to be on your way!  No such disturbance this time.  Without bothering asking for money up-front she climbed into the back seat;  by the time I was out one door and in through the other she was naked apart from her boots.  

I sat beside her with my trousers down around my ankles, and she played with my cock while I kissed her.  I worked my way down her tits and her tummy and got to her hairy pussy, I discovered that she'd been right to warn me.  I swept almost a handful of spunk down into the palm of my hand with my thumb, reached up and rubbed it all over her tits, before I settled down to lick her.  When I came up for air, I was pushed back in my seat, she climbed astride me, impaled herself on my cock, and clung to me as she started to fuck me.  I managed to hold back while she had a whole long series of noisy, shuddering, clingy orgasms that could have been registered on the Richter scale.  It wasn't just me, she needed a few minutes of recovery time just squatting there in my arms before we even moved apart for me to lick her again, starting with her tits and ending up back in her pussy.

I established that she'd had five guys before me that evening, all bareback,  three in her pussy, two in her arse.  Two of them were regulars, three were strangers;  two of them had come more than once.  She fucked bareback from choice saying that it was more adventurous, and pulling strangers, getting new meat as she called it, for the same reason.  She was twenty-four.  This was definitely a girl to see more of;  a lot more!  We didn't tell each-other our names until we exchanged phone numbers, and I gave her all the money in my wallet, a little more than she'd asked for, which seemed to surprise her;  I had to call at an A.T.M. on the way home.  I wanted to see her again, I suggested taking her dogging.  Saturday night was out, she was going clubbing, she laughed about how many men she might have.  Sunday was okay, I could pick her up near her home about nine, she could do a few punters and we could make our way to the car parks by midnight.  I dropped her off on the street where I'd picked her up, she crossed to the other side and stepped into a doorway.  I switched out the lights and slumped down in the seat;  she was picked up within three minutes after only the briefest of negotiations.  The next day I had to put in some seriously hard work scrubbing the spunk stains off the upholstery on my back seat!

Sunday came and I was already sitting at the rendezvous point when Sue texted me to pick her up.  As we drove into town she regaled me to her Saturday night in a club, where, when she fucked the bouncers they gave her exclusive use of a disabled toilet!  She liked having the grab-rails to hold on to as she straddled a guy who was sitting on the pot, and said she preferred fucking all the older men, because they were more desperate!  We pulled into a dark corner before getting to her favourite beat;  I walked around the car and she swung her legs out the passenger door;  I told her that I actually wanted to taste her, before she started on her night's debauch.  After all it wasn't just her that I would be tasting for the rest of the night.  

She took up her station in a doorway and I sat back and watched.  In just over two hours she pulled four guys one after the other with no more that one or two minutes on the street between them.  She was clearly giving good value and wasn't rushing them.  It was a long ordeal watching and waiting and keeping my hand off my cock!  When she got back into my car she bragged about how much of a slut she'd been with them, two regulars and two strangers - New Meat;  the last guy had fucked both her pussy and her arse and come three times.  

Over the previous two days I'd texted at least a dozen of the perverts from the car parks, seven had got back to me.  One to say he couldn't make it but to let him know how we got on and keep him in mind for the future.  One to say he'd try, and five who said they'd definitely be there.  As it was to turn out we got the maybe, four definites, and two guys none of us knew, who just turned up.  Before we got settled in the first car park I bought her cigarettes and a couple of cans of diet coke.  Then I got Sue to count her money from the night, I made her count it twice just to check she got it right, she was a little mystified.  I took out my wallet and doubled it, matched it pound for pound and made her count it again;  twice!  She was rather amazed, said she'd go dogging with me every night, and I wouldn't have to pay her that much every time!  I was going to be her very best client!

Sue stripped to her boots, folded her clothes up on the floor in front of the seat and put on my big sheepskin overcoat.  This was something she could get on and off very easily, and I hoped it would protect my upholstery.  I drove to the designated spot where we were expected and parked right at the back of that car park with room for cars on both sides, wound down the back windows half an inch, put the seats full forward and we got into the back.  I had time to kiss her, plaster her spunky overflow all over her tits and lick her pussy, making a point of licking her freshly fucked arse as well.  She was no sooner astride me in the middle of the seat with my cock inside her, when we saw we had an audience.  Cars had quietly parked at both sides of us and we had a wanker with his cock in his hand at each window.  Sue just leant over to each side, opened both doors and carried on fucking me.

Sue had a series of noisy orgasms even though I came fairly quickly, and while our audience was growing only two of the guys could get at her to grope her.  After a few moments to catch her breath she climbed off me and out of the car in only her boots.  Now there were five pair of hands all over her.  As I got my pants up and staggered out to join them, she suggested I take photos! I got pictures of them all from the neck down with those hands all over her;  pictures of every cock in her mouth;  of her being spit roasted;  taking it doggy on my sheepskin over the bonnet;  on her back on the bonnet holding on to a cock at each side whose owners were holding her legs in the air for a third to fuck her.  A short pause while she rehydrated with coke from one of the cans we had carefully deposited in the snow, then we returned to the back-seat.  She lay on her back in my lap with her bum stuck out through the door and her feet up against the upper frame, and got them all again in turn.  I got photos of a cock approaching its target, rubbing against her cunt, driving into her, pulling out, someone outside took the camera-phone and got a close-up of the spunk oozing out of her, gave me it back, and I photographed the next.  I got about ninety photos that night, at least sixty weren't too blurred and were worth keeping.  As the guys gathered around to scrutinize them and see that their faces weren't in them, everybody got the phone numbers of the two newbies for future notification of similarly glorious adventures to come.  Sue loved the pictures even though half of them showed her face, I had to promise to copy them all onto a flash-drive for her.  She wanted to know where I'd be posting them;  when I told her about the cuckold sites she said she'd join so she could write comments herself and personally answer all the dirty ones she attracted.

We finished in the car park with a really fantastic fuck, still with an audience, packed up and left.  On the slow drive home I got to find out a bit more about her.  She had her own house and a live-in partner who was alleged to be the father of her child, and she really had had pregnancy scares while fucking around!   She snored like a foghorn, and he was already sleeping in the spare room;  she more-or-less used him as a live-in babysitter most nights of the week so she could go out partying and whoring.  He was always asleep when she finally got home;  after all he had a job to go to!  She had discovered the red light district when she was sixteen, but regulars generally contacted her by phone and met away from there;  she only used it for finding her favourite commodity, new meat.  She went to the hooker’s clinic in the district every two weeks after an initial dose of chlamydia, but amazingly had never got a dose since.  She amazed (and probably horrified) the staff there with blow-by-blow accounts of her sexual antics and, like Maddy, they kept telling her how lucky she had been and she was bound to get an infection.  It was obvious that if I was going to get a dose from anybody it would be her.  But you just have to love Lucky Girls!  My upholstery wasn't so lucky;  the sheepskin hadn't always been in the right place at the right time, for future jaunts I got a car rug which could be tucked down over the back seat!

Our next night was cut short.  Sue's friend Tara who was an veteran of the business, worked from home with a couple of friends to give the punters a bit of variety.  Early in the evening and just two punters down, Sue got a phone call, Tara had a job for her, a job apparently only she could do!  A visiting football team and their coach was staying overnight in town and had elected to spend their evening after the match being entertained at Tara's.  When they arrived they announced that they all wanted a girl who would fuck them bareback!  Tara and her colleagues were good girls who insisted on using condoms.  Sue's fame preceded her, if anyone would happily bareback a visiting football team it was obviously she, and Tara was negotiating a rate!  I got a very quick fuck in a car park, we mopped her up and I diligently licked her clean in lieu of a bath or a shower;  delivered her to the door, but there was no place for a hanger-on at this party, it might put the athletes off.  Sue asked me to phone the following afternoon to hear the details and arrange something for us.

She didn't answer the phone for a couple of days, when mid-week she answered it in the morning I arranged to pick her up from home to take her to lunch.  I arrived at about eleven, and found her just out of the bath, partner at work, child out with granny.  We spent an hour in her bed before heading out to lunch.  The football party had gone well, the team didn't leave to go back to their B.& B. until four in the morning;  she fucked every one of them at least twice!  Tara had split the take with her and the other two girls had gone home early without a penny.  We planned our next Sunday night.  I would pick her up from a house on the other side of town, where she would be doing two punters in the marital bed of one of them while his wife was away.  We'd go back to the flat for a while and I would take her out to dinner;  we'd go dogging after. The two guys wanted to see her again but no longer had a wife-free venue;  I suggested she bring them back to the flat if I could join in.  Again a Sunday night, one of them brought her flowers and the other had got her a sexy nun's outfit;  maybe he had been brought up catholic and wanted to show how far he'd lapsed!  She obliging wore it for him but it didn't do anything for me, I just wanted her naked.  I knew the other guy;  he had been at Nancy's mini-gangbang and had arranged the proper one for her.  He told us in detail about a gangbang which sadly I'd missed, in a private house in a nearby town.  The girl had been twenty-two, and had done nineteen guys in the one evening, one after the other.  She had charged a quite modest fee, which everybody paid except the guy who had provided the house and her boyfriend.  Sue was fascinated and was full of questions, did she do them all bareback? Did she do them one at a time, or were they all in together?  Did she only do them once each?  How much did she charge?  What were the guys like?  Could he fix her up with a night like that?  If he could Sue would have been in her element, and so would I.  We went on like this for quite a while, dogging almost every Sunday, occasionally Friday as well, sometimes after an evening's whoring, sometimes after dinner.  Sometimes after both if we got her started early enough.  A few regulars in the flat, but she really liked dogging and fucking in guys cars, in toilets, in back alleys, in the woods;  like everything else she loved it had to be more adventurous.  She still did punters occasionally during the week when I wasn't out as much, except to buy her lunch;  and Saturdays were for clubbing!  One night she got me into trouble with the police when someone reported her flashing guys while sitting in my car at a petrol station, I was inside at the time buying her cigarettes;  but we got over that and managed to laugh it off.

Sue split up with her partner, understandably he was feeling rather used, and they settled on joint custody of the child.  She had her from school pick-up on Monday afternoon to drop-off on Friday morning and had the house to herself all weekend.  Those were glorious weekends!  There was a parade of men through that house and a couple of stray bi-sexual girls as well.  It was hard to tell who was being fucked just for the hell of it and who was discretely paying, certainly there were a lot of presents.  I had both the strays, one didn't charge me at all, the other asked for money once and laughed when I offered it to her the next time. Sue largely gave up on pulling in the street, but on the nights she got started early enough for me to take her out to dinner well fucked, we would tour the area before we went dogging.  Then she usually pulled a stranger or two and waved her immoral earnings at me, for me to double them up. Oh but I love that girl!

There were mild clear summer evenings when we got out of town to ancient monuments, public footpaths, tow-paths along the canal.  In the hour before darkness, and before we could decently set about dogging, there would be the occasional couple and the occasional pervert;  we only had to watch out for innocent joggers and dog-walkers.  I ended up with many hundreds of photos of Sue.  Naked in fields and woods, beside the river or canal, sprawled over neolithic monuments, in graveyards, fucking a stray jogger or pervert in the long grass.  One night we found our way into a country church that seemed empty and she dropped the sheepskin coat and posed on the altar.  I was careful about posting her pictures on the internet, but she insisted on having copies of every photo on flash drives, and not only copied the whole flash drives for anyone who asked but posted the pictures herself.  She was on all these sites now,  chatting and posting, lapping up and actively encouraging all the vile and filthy propositions she received every day.  We lost count of the number of pictures she received, not just of guys' cocks, but pictures of printouts of her photos that had been ejaculated over!  She was developing a filthy fan-base of many thousand one-handed keyboard operators at their computers, lusting over every new picture that came on line and begging for more.  She loved it.

Sue took up with a new guy nearly twice her age, Harry was escaping from a disastrous marriage and a lunatic wife;  and I mean lunatic, she had to be kept medicated up to the eyes and went on rampages when she wasn't.  Her two teenage children could do no wrong in her eyes, were always in trouble with the police and stalked and attacked anyone who supported Harry in the break-up.  For months Harry became an intimate part of the wild weekends, returning to being a civilized wage slave during the week.  He was totally fascinated by, and dependant upon, the endless parade of men who passed between Sue's legs in their bed and elsewhere.  While nervous about performing with her in public in case he couldn't get it up at the last minute, this was not a problem for him in private.  He just couldn't keep his hands off her, or his tongue or cock out of her, when she was dirty, sticky and stinking of sex.  This guy could ejaculate more often in one weekend for Sue than any man I've ever met before or since!  He wouldn't come dogging with us, but he was always waiting with his cock in his hand for her to get home and tell him all about it and see the pictures.  I was delighted for Sue, and totally in sympathy with Harry.  We tried to reassure him that he would always be able to sit back and watch her until his erection popped up and then he could always claim spousal privilege and have her next.

Sue had to get a court injunction against Harry's ex and her family after threats and a couple of broken windows.  She gave him copies of all her great trove of dirty photos, and we lost track of where he was gleefully posting them on the Internet.  Sue didn't care.  She was delighted with the more-or-less anonymous notoriety she was getting, and loved me taking her out to fuck occasional guys she met on line;  but Harry seemed to be getting a little erratic.  One morning at home I found a envelope taped to the window of my car;  I had the presence of mind to put on gloves before touching it.  It was a straightforward anonymous blackmail letter demanding a significant sum of cash delivered to a certain spot at a certain time, or the author would inform the Saturday Slander that I was the Internet presence taking Little Sue dogging.  I knew that I was financially and personally fireproof, this was not going to damage my career;  but the only thing to do was to take it to the police and gain anonymity in the courts as a victim of blackmail.  I immediately did;  the letter and car window were fingerprinted to no avail, the perpetrator had also had the presence of mind to wear gloves.  Unfortunately there was a big football match on the night of the handover and the police did not have the manpower to mount an operation.  Sue was the only person I told about the blackmail, and she was sure that Harry was behind it, he must have got my home address and surname from her address-book.  She let it slip that I'd gone straight to the police and I never heard any more about it, there were no more demands.  I'm not sure if their relationship would have survived another onslaught from Harry's ex and her brood with just another court injunction, or if the blackmail was the last straw;   but she dumped him and moved house to distance herself from both him, his ex and her gang of vandals.

Some time before this I had discovered something rather odd about Sue, considering her rampant sexual proclivities.  Looking at her Facebook page there were references to churches, church groups and that Jesus was her Saviour.  Apparently, every now and then she would become involved with one church group or another and take a break from the worldly pleasures in the name of religion, but she generally lapsed rather quickly and returned to a much more productive life of sin.  It seemed that I had, over two or three years, presided over her longest and most glorious fall from grace.  She just laughed when I suggested that lots of male attention and lots of orgasms were just as much a divine gift as anything the church could offer her.  She retreated from the world for a couple of months after she moved house, I only got to have lunch with her once.  This time she lapsed because, after giving a really stirring sermon about the dreadful evils of the sins of the flesh, her pastor had taken her aside and stuck his hand up her skirt!  I told her it was fair enough to give up on that church, or any other church, since the clergy and pastors were only human and weren't fit to tell everyone else what to do, but she shouldn't give up on Jesus.  After all he was the guy who decently consorted with sinners, prostitutes and tax-gatherers.  When the bad girl, the dirty girl (just like her) was dragged before him as Rabbi to confirm a sentence of stoning to death, didn't he dismiss the charges with “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”.  That was nothing like her Pastor's sermon!  There was nothing wrong with Jesus' teaching, just with the churches that evolved out of it, solely to justify clerical power trips and a full collection plate.  

Every now an again Sue would retreat into a little world with Jesus and another church group, and after a while would become disillusioned again, or just in too great a need of a good dirty fuck.  There would be a rampantly filthy weekend, or two or three,  and she might disappear for another two or three months.  She became more and more dependant on me to provide her with suitable entertainment on each return to the real world of sin, and more sin.  One new older guy, Ian, did survive several of her retreats to keep seeing her for a year or so;  we developed a new sexual position for him.  Reverse Cow Girl, in an armchair with her legs up over the arms.  Ian was able to lick her pussy, give my cock a courtesy suck, guide it into her, lick her (and me) while we fucked, give my cock another courtesy suck with all her juices and my spunk on it, and then lick her spunky juicy cunt out at length.  Since his only interest in me was an act of worship directed at her and her beautiful cunt, I naturally returned the complement;  some times getting to lick her out in depth with Ian's cock up her arse.  Sadly the periods or religious retreat seem to get longer and the ecstatic spells of real religious ecstasy farther and farther apart.  I love her to bits.  Every time I've told her so, and begged her to marry me, with or without an audience whose spunk I was wallowing in, I've meant every word of it.  If when she is fucking us all madly she is without sin;  then when she is away from us and we need her, she is without malice  We will always wait patiently for the promised resurrection of her endearing lust that is our inspiration and delight.

 

 

Religion

Religion is a very personal thing.  Most of us who have deliberately turned our back on all the big organised faiths, still have a small gap left in our lives which needs some sort of belief to fill.  The main Abrahamic, patriarchal religions, of which modern Judaism, Christianity and Islam are the heirs have a dreadful history of slaughter, forced conversion, and the enslavement and subjugation of women.  Many of us, even if our belief system has lapsed, live a double life.  Where we may formally bend one knee before the holy altar of the old Grey Beard who wags his finger at us disapprovingly from the sky;  and are still able to get down on both knees between the thighs of a woman who's holiness his priests would certainly have questioned, and who they might have stoned to death!

But as I've mentioned before the ill treatment of women is a quite recent religious innovation.  Before our ancestors invented the stern old Grey Beard in the sky, in their own stern image, they had glorious fertility cults where the deities were responsible for making the crops, the livestock and the people reproduce and prosper.  The people themselves had to show the rustic gods and libidinous Goddesses how to do it!  Every religious festival was as if the whole village went dogging.  The nubile women were openly and gleefully getting knocked up by the alpha males, usually the alpha males from the next village.  All in the name of religion!  This was normal human behaviour for much, much longer than the recent regime that we are familiar with, around us today.

Nobody should be surprised, that in the west where we have more freedom (and women in particular have more freedom);  we should be reverting to our normal, ingrained, evolved behaviour;  and abandoning the recent, modern fashion for being so afraid of empowered women that we have to do everything in our power to subdue them.

So why not go back to the old ways officially, since they make more sense to most of us.  Well, most of us are too busy screwing to bother with giving it a religious side;  and the ones who want a bit of ritual are just as likely to be too scared to screw.

(Don't ever join a modern Pagan group in hopes of getting your end away, they may exchange big formal hugs and talk about holding rituals “sky clad”;  but most of them are just as prissy and monogamous as the rest.  You will be completely wasting your time.)

 

 

Ethics

If we no longer have a religion worthy of the name to show us how to temper our behaviour to each other.  All we need to remember is that ethics does not require a religious basis – that's all just clerical propaganda!  The best ethical construct is simply that we should be able to do any damn thing we like, just so long as we don't hurt anyone else in the process.  In the context of what I'm writing, women who have sex to sell, should not be denied the right to use it to get jobs, buy their way up the political or commercial ladder, to secure a home for themselves and their loved ones, or just to rescue themselves from destitution, and it's only the religious fanatics who think that this should only be allowed to happen within marriage

We may legally define the word prostitution as the act of exchanging sex for money or material gain.  However there is no satisfactory way of drawing a fine line between the whore trading sex for cash on the street and the happily married housewife trading matrimonial intercourse for an increase in the housekeeping allowance;  and there are a whole range of grey areas in between.  The more civilised jurisdictions do not legislate against the exchange of sex for money, but for public order offences on the one hand (soliciting in public places and kerb crawling) and slavery on the other (living off the earnings of prostitution, running brothels and trading in women).

Not hurting anyone in the process must include protecting the sex workers from harm, which means making the pimps, criminals and criminal gangs which seek to enslave them, amenable to the law, despite all the intimidation they may use to keep their slaves from giving evidence against them.  We should probably be campaigning for all paedophiles, rapists, pimps and wife-beaters to be castrated!  Such is the determination we should be demonstrating to care for the physically weaker in society, particularly the women.  We don't need a religious formula to empower women and see them as Goddesses and Objects of Worship, that should come easily to all of those who love them.

 

 

 

Sexually Transmitted Diseases

The powers that be want everybody to view the universal use of condoms as Safe Sex.  They want everyone to use condoms because they believe that this will reduce the number of people demanding treatment and being a burden on the health service.  To that extent they are correct, but only just!

We all know that about four percent of condoms burst, split or have holes in them and let everything through.  This is the acceptable failure rate;  but it means that when our best girl goes out and fucks a hundred guys, uses condoms every time;  she might as well have picked four at random to fuck bareback!

What we didn't know, until it was dragged out into the public domain under the U.S.A. Freedom of Information Act, is that between a fifth and a third of condoms have micro-pores.  True these won't let semen through, but they will leak enough bacteria or viruses to cause a cross infection.  Now our best girl fucking the hundred guys with condoms every time, might as well have picked between twenty and thirty-three to fuck bareback (the difference presumably depending on the thickness of the latex).  Condoms only provide Safer Sex!  The health Authorities and the condom manufacturers were horrified, blustered and prevaricated, tried to get around releasing the information claiming that this would cause such a lack of faith in condoms that there would be an epidemic!  The lobbyists and the law prevailed, and the epidemic didn't happen.

There are other factors at play in the transmission of disease, many of which aren't fully understood.  Even with the Plague and Black Death only between a third and two-thirds of the population became infected despite most of the rest coming into contact with it.  The same public authorities who want to promote condoms as the solution to all our problems, actively discourage scientific research in this area in relation to S.T.D.s,  and certainly discourage publication of any that is done.  Again for fear that the public will abandon condoms. None of the bacterial or viral agents in S.T.D.s automatically infect everyone who comes into contact with them.  

There is good statistical evidence for circumcision in men.  The underside of the foreskin is horribly susceptible to transmission of infection, and is most likely to get little tears, abrasions and lesions which provide the pathway for infection straight into the blood stream;  The Glans Penis on the other hand is as tough as old boots, especially post circumcision, where it becomes more like normal skin and less like mucus-membrane.

There may even be anecdotal evidence for the phenomenon of Lucky Girls!    The girl who is a big secretor, the girl who gets very wet during foreplay, masturbation and sex, and produces a constant down-flow of vaginal secretion;  the Juicy Girls!.  This acts not only as a slightly acidic bactericide, and as a lubricant reducing the incidence of minor tears, abrasions and lesions which are the main pathways for infection  It also actually provides an effective barrier between the two parties in the act.  This is the Liquid Sheath,  (where the condom is the Latex Sheath).

The important thing we can all do in relation to Sexually Transmitted Diseases to just to accept that they can happen, and happen to us.  We need to talk to our partners;  all of them.  We need to go for check-ups, and we need to treat infections immediately we are aware of them.  If it makes it all easier we should be able to make jokes about them.  “I bet they put it about a bit, do you think we got a dose tonight Ha Ha Ha.”  We need to accept that it is probably going to happen to us, it will be no more one party's fault than another, there should be no recrimination;  unless casting blame in itself makes for good dirty conversation while having sex, in the same way you might call the girl you love a dirty slut. 

The most dangerous partners to have sex with are the ones who are in denial;  the ones who are really cheating, and don't dare spend half a day at the hospital in case someone finds out, either for a check-up or for remedial treatment

We just have to be seriously fatalistic about it all.  If we get a dose, we get a dose and we deal with it.  If it kills us, it kills us (and for a couple of decades that was a serious consideration), we're all going to die, but hopefully not this week or next.  We need to go at it like Gladiators!  Approach the shrine of Venus-Veneris with our weapons held proudly erect;  and raise our right hands with the immortal words;  “We Who Are About To Die Salute You”!

A significant number of clients seek to have unprotected sex with the prostitutes they pick up, probably more than half;  and there are enough girls prepared to provide this service to satisfy the demand.  The clients' motivations are various.  Some may have difficulty maintaining an erection while struggling with a condom (professionals have developed the “four finger stretch” and the knack of putting on a condom with their mouth to cope with this).  Some may seek the satisfaction of feeling the bare skin, and may need this to help them maintain an erection.  Some just get off on the risk, like those who embrace the risk of being caught having sex in public places, and this too may aid with getting and keeping it up.  While the older clients may have difficulty with prompt and sustainable erections, the young bucks who have no such problem and are just as keen on unprotected sex.  Picking up girls for sex can be a competitive business, old or young;  guys talk about it to each other.  They compare notes on the girls they meet;  they brag about how good a girl is, how “dirty” she is, what she will do for them, how cheap they are, or how generous a patron they can be for a particularity lovely, particularity enthusiastic, or particularity dirty girl.  Clients brag about having unprotected sex, and if you aren't prepared to take the risks, you're just a woose! 

Only the most deluded client who is seriously in denial believes that the girl he picks up is about to be faithful to him!  Clients are picking up girls who they know are having sex with other men, sometimes with large numbers of men.  The men tell each other all about it and there is little difficulty getting the girls themselves to brag about it.  A client knows that he is sharing a prostitute with the man he passed in the hallway, or whose car she just got out of.  She won't wash if the client wants to enjoy the aftermath and asks her not to.  She will probably arrange meetings for him with like-minded clients.  They will get to share her in the one bed together, she may even give them each a discount on her hourly rate

The prostitute’s motivation for having unprotected sex with their clients too, is various.  It can be sheer stupidity, there is no intelligence test for being a prostitute.  Women have been silly enough to believe that they can't get pregnant or an STD if they have sex standing up (as if gravity had anything to do with it)! Just because someone who sounded authoritative told them so.  Often their colleagues tell them that they've been doing it for years and have never caught anything.  Their clients beg them for it,  tell them it's safe and that all their friends are doing it.  And there is the money, but not all girls charge extra.  Some may leave home or the pub without any condoms and pick up a client,  they may say they were only expecting to perform oral sex that night.  Faced with a client with money in his hand asking for penetrative sex, they may just tell him to “tear away” do it without, rather than waste time buying condoms and risk loosing the business.  This is a Just This Once scenario which turns into Any Time It Suits.  Extended periods without getting an infection leads to complacency and doing it All The Time.  Occasionally a prostitute working and without condoms will face a doubting client,  here the reasons why having sex with her is safe are also interesting.  Simply “I'm clean” or “My boyfriend or one of my regulars would have told me if they caught anything from me” or “I go to the clinic” or “That's why you're paying me extra, to know I'm safe”.  And of course there is always the money;  however it is not only the drug addicts desperate for a fix,  or the alcoholics needing their next bottle to crawl into;  there are the gamblers, shoppers and party-goers who have blown everything and can't pay the rent, can't feed their children or can't afford the taxi home.  And surprisingly there is another safety factor;  it is almost certainly safer to have unprotected sex with one regular you know and trust, than to go alone to some dark place with two total strangers for the same money.

 

 

 

The Decline and Fall

I have seen worthy women like Diana and Jade supplementing their university grants fucking men who paid them, and go on to good careers.   Bella supported her husband’s academic education working on her back.  Gemma went on to do a degree at the Open University in Women's Studies just because she could.  

I have met several girls who went on to establish businesses for themselves (mostly in the service industries, beauticians, hairdressers and personal trainers) and made ends meet fucking punters until those businesses finally paid off;  and seen one or two return to the street as the concern went through a bad patch or needed a cash boost to get a new lease on premises.

I have known girls (and couples) who have had a house fire, had no contents insurance, and have literally been left with the clothes they stood up in.  We have all applauded as our heroine went out and fucked for furniture and everything else they needed to recreate a home for themselves and their families;  and kept on fucking to pay for a holiday to help them get over it all.

I have known bullied and maligned wives like Kelly who had to fight for years before the courts finally got their tight-fisted ex husbands to pay up;  just managing to survive and still able to keep their children in school, because they too could go out and get fucked for money.  

In our modern society which embraces both serial monogamy and common-law marriage;  we have all seen the girls who have been dumped by their partners become totally dependent on the benefit system with no hope of spousal support.  We have seen them reappear on the street every time one of their relationships ends.  If you are a single mother it is easy to get a baby-sitter for an evening, it doesn’t help you get a proper job;  but it lets you get out for long enough to do a couple of punters and get a quick money fix.

Then of course, there are the girls who are just subsiding their dissolute lifestyle;  but if they want to drink, smoke, party and buy clothes that they couldn't otherwise afford, they are perfectly entitled to go get fucked for it all.  Building a career and avoiding destitution are not the only valid reasons for whoring, possibly in this case, it becomes a vocation!

With increasing prosperity in the town centre, and following complaints from restaurateurs and residents in new apartment blocks the police decided that they would have to take some sort of action to reduce the ancient and beloved trade.  But, even then the police did not make arrests.  They merely acted in restraint of trade;  issued a few official cautions to girls and kerb-crawlers alike to frighten them away;  and would simply stand and talk to girls for an hour or two at a time on a street corner, until the girls went home disgusted.  It was much more humane and of course more cost effective!  No paperwork, no time wasted in the courts.

There had been so many girls about, offering it all up (or at least offering some of it up) that the damaged girls, the broken girls weren't highly visible apart from a few incorrigible drunks.  It was only when the area began to run down that the more up-market and higher minded trollops were the ones to disappear from the scene first, making us more aware of the others.  Like all the sensible girls they saw their regulars away from the area anyway.  Now recruitment of new blood was increasingly on the internet or elsewhere, modern methods for modern times.  Some of the damaged girls, particularly the drunks, had no access to computers, if you gave them one they'd have swapped it for a bottle of vodka anyway;  worse they couldn't even hold onto a mobile phone for more than a day or two without loosing it;  and with it their means of being contacted by their punters.  Sadly they look like becoming our last hope of getting a fuck on the street!

A few years ago there was this lovely girl called Valerie, a working class family's one, bright, grammar school girl.  Following two disastrous marriages during which she turned to drink, she broke out on her own;  and had a series of short term relationships, popping up on the street briefly as each one failed in turn, just to get her act back together again until she found another guy.  She disappeared for about three years to Spain with a couple where they ran a glorified pub, in which she was the cook.  The project finally failed, partly because Val was drinking the bar dry very night.  She reappeared and I met her again through a further series of short term relationships.  For every meeting I arrived with a bottle of vodka in my hand, all her other guys supplied her with drink too.  She always seemed to have her act together, and never gave the appearance of being really drunk despite the fact she was consuming the most of two bottles a day.  

She was interested in stuff I was writing, criticised it constructively, and I regularly bought her dinner.  She would occasionally phone me to recount a particularly interesting sexual adventure.  Then her health deteriorated, her liver and kidneys started to fail, and she just would not stop drinking.  She died in hospital surrounded by her family, demanding to be put in a wheelchair and taken out for a smoke!  A half bottle of vodka was found in her bedside locker, which someone had smuggled into hospital for her.  This girls drinking was caused by lack of support from anyone during two brutal marriages, everyone seemed to tell her she just had to put up with it all.  Prostitution was what allowed her to survive without being in a dependant relationship.  The saddest part, is that so many women seem to need to be defined by the man in their life.  

I've known two other hookers who literally drank themselves to death,  both as a result of family circumstances, and again prostitution was what gave them the little financial freedom they had.  But even with the drunks, it's not all bad news.  Another, really pretty young girl called Wendy was renowned for drinking so much that she passed out in peoples beds and didn't come-to until the morning, or passed out in the backs of guys cars.  I've witnessed one demented punter trying to persuade her sisters-in-sin to lift her out of his car and take her off his hands!  She got in with a guy who was a controlling drunken bully, but wouldn't have a bad word said about him, she loved him! Her looks deteriorated, she had bruises, she wasn't allowed to wear anything pretty, he had her begging in the street.  One night we were all horrified to see her bedding down on a doorstep because she was afraid to go home.  To everyone's relief he was put in jail (unrelated matter) and she disappeared for a few weeks with everyone wondering if she was okay.  Then she reappeared again, looking like a million dollars, new place, new guy who seems to be looking after properly, and, under his influence, she hasn't had a drink in over a month.

One only ever heard about drug addicts in conversation with other girls.  While there was always talk about soft drugs in relation to partying, to hear that so-and-so was in hospital with an overdose, because someone had sold her bad gear, was quite an unusual event;  or so it seemed to me.  There was this American girl I took out to dinner once.  She held her knife and fork like a mad cack-handed butcher!  I didn't have the courage to buy her dinner again;  but I saw her in a television interview some time later, talking about the trials and tribulations of being a heroin addict.  Apparently she had talked about prostitution as her means of support, but that was deleted from the final cut as being too much information for the viewing public.  

There were these three very skinny girls, you could have played the xylophone on their ribs!  The oldest one must have been in her seventies and looked like a skeleton dressed in Lycra with a peroxide top-knot.  They would all have made good pull-throughs for a rifle!   Someone had unkindly christened them The Three Horsewomen of the Apocalypse, Famine, Plague and Death!  Considering the association between intravenous drug use and AIDS, Plague (her name was Antonia) 

was a heroin addict.  I got to know Tony well enough to have her friend-me on Facebook;  and followed her progress from that distance, through cleaning up her act, and up to the point that she got her children returned to her from care.  So even the drug addicts are not all bad news.

I would argue that sex as an addiction does in fact have a chemical component, Oxytocin, the feel-good endocrine secretion we all produce when we're having fun;  but the people who go about declaring other people to be sex addicts still seem to rely too much on the prejudices of the priests, clergy and nuns for their definition of how much of a good thing we should all be allowed!

Gambling  is just as much of an addiction as anything else, even if it doesn't have a chemical component.  And there are clearly a few gambling addicts financing their habit by being on the game.  My good friend Penny, First succeeded in getting away from recreational drugs on the party scene even though her friends still used them all around her.  Facing a gambling habit which saw Penny penniless and borrowing money from loan-sharks to gamble with interest at thousands of per-cent per annum;  she signed all the documents to have herself barred from every one of the gambling establishments and joined Gamblers Anonymous.  She grimly paid off all her debts on her back.  Today she can go with friends for an evening's Bingo, put a couple of pounds in a machine and walk away!  She even successfully gave up smoking!  She still doesn’t seem to ever have two pennies to rub together and will occasionally grit her teeth and perfunctory do a punter or two to make ends meet;  sadly she never enjoyed the sex.

I've only seen girls displaying visible bruises a few of times,  some of these women are serial victims, they no sooner get shot of one bullying partner but they seem to immediately find another thug just as bad to take his place.  There is always a great deal of satisfaction in seeing these girls find their freedom;  and frequently whoring is the one successful way of gaining their independence to escape the clutches of someone who's only advantage had been some degree of financial stability.

Dealing with friends who are damaged in any of these contexts can be difficult.  All your best advice is often ignored, sometimes better not to give the advice, they've heard it all before anyway.  Trying to rescue them should always involve giving them a meal, buying them cigarettes, putting money on their phone, on their gas or electricity cards.  Giving them a lift home when they're stranded and taking them into a late night shop on the way.  Buy them the few groceries they ask for and a few extra things to stock their cupboards;  but never (or seldom) give them money since this may just exacerbate their problem.  Never lend them money, or let them promise you favours in return;  always tell them it's a gift.  They'll seldom pay you back anyway, and may fall out with you on the assumption that you'll fall out with them for non-payment of the debt.  They'll love you all the more and you'll probably get the favours anyway, at least at a discount, but never demand them.

 

 

 

Erica

Well the Red Light District hasn't quite expired yet despite the police.   In the last year there have been at least three new faces who greatly improve the look of the place and compliment the damaged girls who looked like being it's last remnants.  Bonnie is a skinny red-head,  Candy is a tall leggy Polish girl,  and Destiny is a beautiful blonde who is from the next town over and works from the comfort of her own car.  They are all pleasant and accommodating, don't rush their punters, but they all dutifully put condoms on everything, and I mean everything.  Bonnie only charges half of what the other two do.  Occasionally other girls appear,  new girls and old hands alike, but most of them are put off by the lack of punters and don't appear very often.

Erica is one of the regulars,  she has been working for about three or four years.  When I first met her she was in the clutches of a lesbian butch dyke pimp driven around by her pet taxi driver.  I could never understand why she should hand over half her earnings to her.  To give Erica her due, she started to come into town only when her pimp was elsewhere, and tell the pimp she wasn't available when she was about.  The  old bag soon gave up in disgust, and left her to get on with it as an independent.  Most girls make a big thing about being independent because the punters don't like their money going to anyone else but their girl, so this improved her chances of getting business.

The first time I met her she took me quite a way out of town, she had condoms and was using them, and she was still very wet from her last fuck.  Fortunately condoms are decently tasteless today, and I didn't taste them off her.  I paid her extra to keep for herself since her pimp was expecting her to charge the standard rate.  The second time she had run out of condoms and fucked me bareback, her pimp knew about her lack of condoms and only expected her to charge me for a blow-job, so she got to keep even more.  As soon as her pimp abandoned her I started to see her regularly.  With the reduced business in the town she does a lot of hand-jobs and blow-jobs which can't be much fun, but then a fair amount of prostitution is just that, drudgery.  Thankfully she has built up a fair stable of regulars, most of whom she half-way fancies and does about half of them bareback.  As often as not she hasn't any condoms with her, which hardly matters when she does so many blow-jobs;  but when a guy wants a fuck the money is by far the most important factor, and she just lets them tear away, her words, though I've used them elsewhere in the same context.  

She'll come into town early on the bus, and I would drive her twenty miles home and take her to bed if the house was empty.  Sometimes when I drove past she would flag me down, jump into the car and tell me about the regular she'd just fucked;  and let me feel her sticky cunt.  Occasionally we would drive round a corner into a dark place, I'd walk around the car, she'd swing her legs out, and I'd get a lick.  I've driven her to meet regulars in their own homes, waited for her and had her afterwards.  I've taken her dogging where she got well groped and mostly sucked a few cocks;  one of her regulars met us dogging and she sucked both of us in turn, but she made him pay for it.  I got quite a few photos of her during the same summer I got so many of Sue, and in some of the same venues.

How ever much money she earned, she never seemed to have a penny to her name, I was always helping her out.  She would phone me occasionally:  tell me she was broke, couldn't pay this, or had no money for that;  and I would put some cash directly into her bank account.  Then one day, some time after she had got into town and it was raining, she asked me to pick her up and take her the few hundred yards to her favourite street to start work.  When I picked her up, she walked out of a gambling arcade.  You know the sort of place, slot machines you can win over a thousand pounds on, but which in reality only pay out about twenty or thirty percent of the cash that is put into them.  The management even give you free tea, coffee and sandwiches as long as you keep putting your money into their machines.  Damn-it, if you are going to gamble you need to own the shop!  

One night I spotted her at about eleven, heading back to the street from the direction of the gambling den.  She told me she had made over two hundred pounds earlier;  enough to pay her back rent that she owed, get electricity, gas and shopping for the weekend;  and she'd blown the lot in less than an hour on the machines.  She was just going to have to start all over again!  That night she was in luck, the punters were there in fair numbers, all out to get their hole, and she hadn't much competition.  She fucked, sucked, took risks, gave discounts, no reasonable financial offer was turned down;  she made her money again!  She was really in a sticky mess when I drove her home, about the state you would have imagined Sue to have been in after the football team!

Of course I still pay her for the time she spends with me. (Paying by the hour was always fairer to the girls than my paying a flat rate for their service, after all I tended to take much more time with them.) However I stopped giving her money just out of love and affection, whenever she was broke.  I would buy her dinner and cigarettes (I was doing that anyway) put money on her phone, gas and electricity, and take her shopping.  There was no point fighting with her, telling her how to run her life.  I assume that there were plenty of other people doing that, and she knew Penny, and had seen how well she had turned her back on gambling.  I just have to hope that she will one day extract her head from out of her arse, see what she's doing, and change her ways.

Erica has a boyfriend;  she loves him, he loves her for exactly who and what she is;  he loves her being a bad girl.  She sees him about twice a week;  she doesn't charge him, and he doesn't seem to be making any contribution financial or otherwise to her lifestyle;  but she is content in his company those couple of times a week;  and either doesn't know or doesn't care that he drives around and talks to the other girls on the street.

She also has a sugar-daddy even if she isn't on speaking terms with him most of the time.  Even when they are on good terms she tells her friends that “he's old, fat and shit in bed”.  He spends his time trying to control and change her, while simultaneously spending money on her.  He wants to control what she wears, who she meets, where she goes;  even wants her to stop seeing members of her extended dysfunctional family;  and definitely wants her off the game.  When he doesn't get his way he becomes threatening, and she blows him out again!

If someone like me (not like her boyfriend or sugar-daddy) were to  take her in hand, we would have to do it sympathetically and from our love for her.  She would need all her bills paid for her so as not to tempt her to try and double the money on the machines (and inevitably loose it).   She would need an account with a taxi firm so she could always be able to get home when she'd blown everything she had.  We would have to simply have to accept her fucking for the cash to gamble with.  After-all we all (except her sugar-daddy) love her being a bad girl, that’s what makes her so much more fun, so much more exciting, so much more beautiful!

Erica has taken up with this really nice, decent guy called Jake.  He's a punter, he pays her for her time, generously, and for a couple of hours at a time, and a couple of times a week.  He took her to the dogging car parks occasionally and she not only got groped and sucked a few cocks, she fucked a couple of guys too.  He told her how much he enjoyed it, sharing her that is, and she promptly recruited me for a threesome.  We met and fucked her in turn, each fucked her while she was sucking the other's cock.  We quickly moved our meets to a flat or a hotel room where we could get all our kit off and didn't have to look over our shoulders, though we miss having an audience and her occasionally getting another guy to join us.  We drop her off with regulars, drive her home, all the good stuff.  We'll definitely be taking her dogging again!  It is really lovely and rewarding, when she is fucking us both together to hear her say, “I love my job, when I get to do this!”

 

 

 

Conclusion

In conclusion, we have to set aside the behaviour of the Pimps, the Criminals and the Criminal Gangs who trade in women.  Their behaviour towards women is so horrifically wrong that they should all be castrated, locked up for life, or decently topped.  We have to set aside the fact that in our modern society, Polyandrous relationships, where a woman is supported by several men, have to be conducted in secret, on dark street corners, or the Internet’s equivalent of the dark street corner.  Because our historical and pre-historical polyandrous ancestors conducted these affairs entirely openly and this was simply the accepted practice;  we need to work today  towards this, and make it our goal.  We even have to set aside the lovely pretty modern notion of our horny heroine being happily married to half a dozen men, however nice that notion might be.  This again was not quite how it happened with our ancestors.  

The polyandrous family unit was much more fluid than that.  Historically we recognise that a third of the younger women died in childbirth.  Those that survived went on to have about twenty pregnancies, perhaps ten of their children survived to one year, seven or eight until their teens.  But we also have to realise that more than half of the young men died doing dangerous things, in their  teens, twenties and into their thirty’s before they became the family elders.  There was fighting, feuding, raiding, hunting, trading up and down rivers, along the coast and on short stretches of open sea.  To say nothing of construction, forging and metalwork, all without any Health and Safety, or life-jackets.  Our idyllic family unit, that band of brothers, trading across the channel with a couple of boats, would have two households and two wives, one in each port.  When they lost a ship at sea, and it's entire crew, they would have to induct new brothers into the family, and into their wives' bed, build a new boat and get on with their lives.  

The polyandrous family unit had a pecking order, there was Number One Husband, number two husband, number three etc.. The empowered wife who ran the home with a rod of iron, had her own labour force of the other younger women and all the prepubescent children doing their chores.  She would have two or three primary partners, a few secondary partners and more tercery partners on the family's periphery; to say nothing of the job of training in her replacement(s).

If we are to embrace the notion of a group of men championing protecting and supporting one wife, lover, heroine or whore,  we have to abandon all modern notions of jealousy and constancy.  We have to accept that she can love us all after a fashion.  The older guys will have to accept the younger ones may become her favourite studs.  If there is any jealousy, it has to be good jealous, constructive jealousy, jealousy that just makes us love her all the more.

The Marquis de Sade wrote a dirty book called Juliette, about two hundred years ago.  (I don't recommend it, she may have been a prolific trollop, but she was worse.  She went around the streets of Paris with her maid, coachman and footman, handing out poison sweets to children.) I quoted a line from it earlier about getting pregnant.  They put de Sade into a lunatic asylum for expressing his point of view.  That bad was good, and wicked was even better!  That promiscuity was normal behaviour.  I hope that the powers-that-be don't take the same attitude to this piece!

Juliette was written in the first person, it was written as if it was her own story.  I thought it might be a nice touch to write my glorious heroine's point of view in the first person as well.

 

 

 

The Hooker's Tale

Recounted during her holy pilgrimage with her sinful sistern and their devoted slaves, along the Street of Shame, to the Sacred Shrine of the Dress Shop and the Champagne Bar. (with apologies to Geoffrey Chaucer)

 

What is it about all the dirty fuckers who pick up hookers like me in the street.  

There is certainly none of this shite about virginity and fidelity.  Except for a deluded 

few, they all want dirty girls.  They want high-risk sex with dirty sluts who will give 

them a dose as like as not.  They want to stick their dirty dicks in a filthy hole that 

still has the last guy's spunk in it.  They'll pay extra for bareback;  pay extra to take 

the risks.  They can't be completely taken in by our lame excuses about why it's safe, why we must be clean;  and we only make those excuses because we want their money!  “I have a couple of regulars, I'm sure that they'd tell me if I gave them something”.  Yeah right, I may have done twenty guys since I saw one of them last!  Or, “I go to the clinic for check-ups occasionally, when I have the time”.  The last time I wasted in one of those places was for a course of antibiotics!  Or, “that's why you pay me extra, to know I'm safe”!  Yeah, that puts you right up there amongst the elite three hundred!   All a lot of fuckin' shite!  

You pick me up offering sex for money to strangers in the street and I tell you 

I'm a virgin, you know I'm a liar.   I tell you that I don't usually do this, I'm a liar, 

I'm doing it every night.  I tell you that I always use condoms but I'll go bareback with 

you as a special favour;  God help us, you have to know I'm lying through my teeth. If a hooker offers to give you a big wet kiss, you know she kisses everybody;  If she sucks your bare cock, she does it for everybody;  think about that when you're kissing her.  You do think about it!   You're turned on by it!  If she says that she doesn't have any covers and it's okay or offers bareback for a little extra, you have to know for a certainty that she is doing exactly the same for every other dirty fucker she meets.  And you love it!  Because she's the girl most of you will pick-up from preference and pay extra if you have to.  At some point we have to ask ourselves why you dirty fuckers are so fascinated by dirty dangerous sex.

And it gets worse.  While some working girls have husbands and boyfriends in 

denial, at least half I know, the guys are seriously getting off on all the dirty things 

their girl is doing.  They can't keep their hands their off partners, nor their dicks out 

of them when they get home stinking of sex.  This is why the most successful relationship a hooker can be in is with an ex-punter;  he has no illusions about her and loves her for who and what she is.  So now it's not just our punters who are dirty fuckers, it's most of our partners as well;  they actively want to share us, and seem to want to risk getting a dose every single time they do.  

Well just look around you on the internet;  there are dedicated websites for “Swinging”,” Cuckolding”,  “Wife and Girlfriend Sharing” and “Dogging”.  World wide these sites have millions of members and an even larger number of browsers and voyeurs.  There are just a vast number of men who actively want to share the women they love with either friends or strangers or both. They want to see the woman they love actively fucking other men,  be with them when they're doing it, taste the guys off them, lick the “Studs” and “Bulls” spunk out of their cunts, and have a glorious fuck with them all dirty, sticky and unwashed.  And they get off on the risks.  Most of the Swingers Clubs have “Greedy-Girls nights” just for this purpose.  Dogging may have been an British invention;  but it too caters for sex with friends and strangers in public places and car parks.

And the bad girls, the hookers and whores like me are getting in on the act.  

There are far more dirty fuckers out there looking for multiple-partner sexual 

relationships than girls willing to be their “Partners in Sin”.  Vive la difference!  I'm 

not just here to give you a quick dirty fuck, or even a long drawn out one and dinner.  I will be your wife or girlfriend for the evening to meet another couple, or girl, or guy;  

I'll happily go to parties and clubs with you and fuck everybody you want me to;  I'll go dogging with you and be as dirty as you like;  you just have to pay me.  I can be 

discrete, we can rehearse our “married history” in advance.  No one need ever know that I'm a whore or that you're paying me;  and you get to share a girl you love and adore (or would like to love and adore) with all and sundry.  You get your dirty fantasy;  I get my dirty cash.

Sadly there are some police, politicians, jurists and religious nuts out there who don't approve of what dirty fuckers like you, your few proper partners-in-sin, and the dirty whores like me who stand in for the rest, are doing.  Can you believe it, they seem to think that it's wrong somehow;  that we're all sinners and are in need of punishment for doing what comes naturally to us.  Give or take the nasty pimps who would like to prey on sluts like me and the sad wives and girlfriends who are amazed when you give them a dose, no one is getting hurt.  The first is everyone’s problem and we need to gang up on them, the second is your problem and you may be better off without them and stick with me and all my thoroughly honest, if indecent, dirty and wanton sisters.  The really big question isn't that we all love being dirty, and I and my sisters get paid for it;  that you fuck us and we make our living out of it.  The real question is why does anybody think it could possibly be wrong!

  It's all down to some fucking outdated religious ethic, where the men are supposed to be in charge, they are supposed to own their women, the women are supposed to be their slaves!  Men are supposed to be homicidally jealous if another man even looks at his wife, and be ready to murder them both.  But the guys we know are begging their mates to fuck their wives, or at least to fuck surrogate wives like me, just so they can lick the spunk out of our cunts, and fuck us after, all dirty slippery and dangerous.  We have to look back to before the old grey-bearded bastard in the sky, smiting us with plague, pestilence and flood and demanding that we put money in his collection plate to pay his servants and conmen. We need to look back  farther to the days of randy Goddesses;  where the women got to fuck all the guys in the village in a mad orgy to make sure the crops grew.  At least they got it half way right.  You guys need to have the right to get your hole and have it as dirty as you like;  to worship your favourite whores (and I really hope that at least some of your wives and girlfriends are in there too) and we whores need the right to be worshipped, looked after, and kept in the style to which we're accustomed.  And never forget,  the best reward for good dirty sex, is good dirty cash.  We have a sacred duty to each other, to pass around the spunk and the cash, and to keep all the doctors in the clinics in gainful employment, as well as all us deliciously dirty whores.

[jabwebcam]

Holy fucking wall of text

 

That has got to be an internet world record.

[not_sure_bb]

too long for me to bother reading

[Pelops]

I wonder how shocked the two above would be if they ever came across a book! Maybe in this modern world there isn't much chance of that, nobody ever reads a book nowadays, they probably don't have the attention span!

 

It's far too much to ask someone to read the first section or two and then decide if it's worth it.

It is only 33,000 words. About 47 x A4 pages, an hour and a half's casual reading.

 

It's a good read, but somehow the last section has been uploaded twice which makes it look longer than it is.

[quietreader]

Odd too to read this part:

 

"Mission Statement

This site is dedicated to the empowerment, ennoblement, even the deification of those glorious women who make the all difference in the world."

 

Makes me wonder whether it's just been copied from somewhere... maybe I'm being too cynical, but that does appear to be somewhere within the members-only area (so I can't look properly) of cuckolds.co.uk. Ah well, some of it was a good read.

[bbasian]

I like the married women bare back parts.

But, I have been looking for years, could not find a married women to fuck.

[Uuha]

On 4/28/2018 at 6:36 AM, bbasian said:

I like the married women bare back parts.

But, I have been looking for years, could not find a married women to fuck.

umm i remember you posting about barebacking a married woman in the Where did you give your last load thread

[bbasian]

That was a long time ago, sadly now a days married women are difficult to find for a fuck.

[Guest takingdeepanal]

On 5/10/2018 at 5:53 PM, bbasian said:

That was a long time ago, sadly now a days married women are difficult to find for a fuck.

 If you don't mind fucking a divorced Latina model in her late 30s, send me a PM ...

[bbasian]

Sorry for a late reply. I am in the UK, is  she a Brit?

[Guest takingdeepanal]

20 hours ago, bbasian said:

Sorry for a late reply. I am in the UK, is  she a Brit?

Guatemala - sorry.