Nick, a fan of ladies of easy virtue, has written an account of his encounters with sex providers in Europe and USA over the decades. In the process, he has experienced the evolution of the sex industry in Germany from streetwalkers in the 1950’s to the present-day situation where escorts offer their services on on-line web sites. The book contains a collection of stories describing trysts with sex providers ranging from streetwalkers to classy escorts. It is a study in human profiles of the women practicing the oldest profession in the world.
WARNING 18+: This book contains material that may be considered offensive to some readers since it contains explicit sex scenes.
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have been passionate about women and sex. This obsession has led me to pay for sex sessions with streetwalkers and escorts over the years. The aim of writing this book was to relive some of my memorable encounters and understand my own deepest desires. I also wanted to share my experiences with other like-minded people.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters are based on real-life models of the streetwalkers and escorts that I had met over the years for paid sex encounters.
A year later, at the age of nineteen, I wilfully sought out my first prostitute.
It was not difficult. Prostitution was legal in Germany and streetwalkers were allowed to ply their trade in selected areas. They carried identity cards and went for regular medical examinations. During the 1950s, most prostitutes in West-Berlin plied their trade near Kurfürstendamm, the main shopping avenue, in the area where the Augsburger and Joachimstaler streets intersected.
I walked along Joachimstaler Street one summer evening viewing the powdered ladies of the night lined up along the street. There were all varieties: young and old, blonde and brunette, enticing and smiling. I was filled with anticipation. The atmosphere was exciting, overwhelming and intimidating. For a teenager, it was an electrifying adult world inviting exploration and discovery. I even felt a bit of danger in the air.
A big woman, in her late thirties, smiled at me. I decided that it would be her. Although I was on a tight budget, I was now knowingly engaged in a game where a money transfer was sure to take place on a one-way trip from my pocket into her handbag.
My body trembled and I took a deep breath through my nose, held it and slowly blew it through my pursued lips. As anxious as I was, I knew this was my chance to fulfil a fantasy that I had since many years. I had dreamed about this. I knew it was what I wanted; I was just scared that I might be rejected.
I retraced my steps and stopped to where she was standing. She had large brown eyes and a friendly face. She flashed a lovely smile.
“How much will it cost?” I asked in German.
“Twenty marks,” she replied. The price seemed right.
“Okay,” I said, looking around. There were just a few people on the street, a distance away from us. It was a slightly windy summer evening and she had a hip length jacket over her cotton frock. It was only her made-up face and high-heels that set her apart as one practising the oldest profession in the world.
“Where do we go?” I asked, studying her face carefully. She had a slightly plump, unlined face.
“I have a room just here,” she replied. “It will cost five marks.” She pointed to a door in a building a few metres away.
“Alright.” I nodded.
Full of excitement and expectation, I followed her through the building. We walked up a short flight of stairs and she rang a bell on a door to the left. An old woman opened the door and we entered a hallway.
“Please give the woman five marks,” she requested. I gave the woman a five mark coin and she led us down a corridor to a door. After opening the door, she left us without a word.
We entered a large room with double bed, a table and two chairs. It had the smell of waxed wood and fresh bedsheets. I was tense but the woman gave me a knowing smile.
I took out a twenty-mark note from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, putting the money in her handbag.
While I stood, she took off her coat and unbuttoned her frock, hanging both on a clothes stand in the corner. Smiling at me, she pulled down her black panties and placed them on one of the chairs.
Now she was dressed only in a corset with hooks for suspenders attached to her stockings. I had seen advertisements for lady’s underwear but this was the first time that I actually saw a woman in a corset. Although her sexual parts were exposed, the slight overhang from her stomach concealed most of the bush at her crotch. Nevertheless, the thought of being alone in a room with a mature woman excited me.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” she asked, addressing me with the familiar term of ‘Du’ in German. By now I had understood that most prostitutes addressed their clients as ‘Du’ but I welcomed this gest of intimacy.
“What is your name?” I asked, wanting to start a conversation.
“Ursula,” she replied. We sat next to each other on the bed.
“I’m Nick,” I said.
“That is easy to remember,” she said. She asked me how I liked Germany and I told her that I was studying to become an engineer.
The talk turned to race and Ursula told me that she had experience with coloured men.
“I worked in Kaiserslautern where they had many coloured American soldiers,” she said.
As in West-Berlin and other cities with American bases, there were bars reserved for American soldiers. German women with American boyfriends often visited such bars. The bars were segregated with so-called ‘Neger-Bars’ reserved for black GIs. Some of the German women who frequented these bars were prostitutes who turned up when the soldiers received their pay.
“Most of my clients were coloured soldiers,” Ursula said. “They like white women.”
In fact, in the fifties, Germany was the first choice of country for Afro-American soldiers. This was a country free of the racial restrictions prevailing in the U.S.
After a while, she got up and returned with her handbag.
“I want to show you some photos,” she said, as she picked out two pictures. She pulled out two dog-eared black-and-white photos from her large handbag. They were pornographic pictures, showing a man and a woman having sex. One showed the woman leaning against a ladder with the man penetrating her from behind. The second showed the man on top of the woman in the missionary position.
I suppose that the photos were shown to get me in the mood. She need not have worried. I needed no porn pictures. As a nineteen-year old youth, my sexual hormones were already in overdrive. I was already excited that I would be shortly having sex with this adult woman
She took out another photo. She had posed with her naked breasts lying on a table top. They were huge. I looked at the top of her corset and noticed that her breasts were really large. I wondered whether I would get a chance to see them.
Digging into her bag, she picked out a card. It was an advertisement for an African cabaret artiste performing in an East-Berlin night club. He was from an African country having friendly ties with the German Democratic Republic.
“He was here last week,” she said proudly.
“It must be expensive for him since he has to pay four East marks for one West mark.”
“He prefers to cross the border and come to West-Berlin.”
“Prostitution is forbidden in East Germany but I have heard that there are a few high-class prostitutes operating on Friedrich Street,” I said.
“The rumour was that they are working for the STASI,” Ursula said. I could imagine the STASI (secret police) using attractive women as ‘honey traps’ for foreign visitors.
“Take off your pants,” Ursula ordered. We had been talking for a while and I suppose that Ursula had been curious about me.
As I took off my underpants, she looked at my penis with interest. She must have been comparing its colour with the other black ones that she had seen. From her talk, I had gathered that Ursula was familiar with black men.
She stroked my penis and slipped on a condom over it.
+I don’t like condoms,” I protested, knowing fully well that she would insist on one.
“You are a gentleman,” she replied. “All gentlemen put on condoms.”
She stroked my penis into an erection and it was a pleasurable feeling.
“If you give me ten marks, I will take off my brassiere,” she said. “This is a special price for students.”
Not knowing the going rate for exposed breasts, I was not in a mood to argue. I took out a ten-mark note from my shirt pocket and gave it to her. She placed it on the night table.
To my disappointment, she did not take off her corset. Instead, she simply pulled down the top of her corset, letting her immense breasts spill over the top. Looking closely at them, I observed light blue veins running under the smooth white skin and the contrasting wrinkled light brown nipples. These swaying globes were for real, unlike the touched-up images of bosoms that I had seen in girlie magazines. I could not wait to suckle on them.
Now she was on her back, lying across the bed and spreading her broad creamy thighs. I moved over her and her hand found my erection, guiding me into her. I was surprised at how easy I entered her.
Moving in and out of her, I felt the pressure of her corset against my stomach. Her large breasts stared me in the face and I kissed a broad, brown nipple.
“Do you want me to have bruises on my breasts?” Her admonishment came as a shock for me. Now I was disappointed that I had paid an extra ten marks just for the sight of her naked breasts.
I concentrated on the awareness that I was making love to a real mature woman at least fifteen years older than me. I wanted to kiss her but did not dare to do so. I kept moving in and out of her, conscious that the condom was reducing the sensations of direct contact. She was patient and let me take my time. I sensed the moment coming for my orgasm and clutched her while she stroked my back. I came, feeling my ejaculation spurt into the condom. It was the first time that I had experienced an orgasm inside a woman and I felt like an adult. Ursula allowed me to lie on her for a while and I was grateful for her gesture.
My only disappointment was that she had not allowed me to suck on her breasts, which had been one of my long-time fantasies. Yet, I was grateful to her for the time that she had spent with me.
There was an awkward moment when I got off her with the tip of the wet condom laden with my sperm. I tried to get a better look between her legs but could only see a mass of unruly and damp pubic hair covering slit.
Ursula followed me when I walked to the wash basin, pulled off my condom and dumped it in the waste bin. She watched me while I washed my penis.
“Most men do not care to wash themselves after sex,” she said.
Now it was my turn to watch as she got dressed. She took her time, adjusting the garters on her stockings and pulling on her black panties. We both got dressed at about the same time.
“Are you ready?” she asked, as she primped before the wash basin mirror after slipping into her high heels.
As we were leaving the room, she made a strange remark.
“I knew you were black when I saw you below,” she said, referring to the colour of my penis. It was much darker than the rest of my body and corresponded to what she had seen on her other black customers.
I was surprised at her impromptu comment but did not take it amiss. It was an honest remark from an expert in this area. Prostitutes knew how to place their clients from the colour of their genitals.
The cold wind hit me in the face when we were out on the street.
“I hope that we can meet again,” I said.
“You know where to find me,” she replied.
This session with Ursula had been a more pleasurable session than my first one with Gisela. I was not only looking for sex but also some form of human contact with an adult woman. Our session had been unhurried. Perhaps we were both curious of each other. Ursula had provided me with feminine warmth and I would be forever grateful to her for this fact.
I never crossed Ursula again but our encounter had made me hanker for the company of similar types of warm-hearted prostitutes.
Nick Shaw has been a passionate reader and writer ever since his youth. He has travelled in many countries and his books have a common theme: interracial relationships in the context of prevailing attitudes and prejudices.
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