Do you remember your first SP???
- Thread starter ScottyTwoHotty
- Start date
Gotcha all beat.
June of 1967. I still had quite a ways to go to get to twenty. I was staying for a month in my uncle and aunt's basement in upstate New York. Every day I'd ride the Erie Lackwana train down to Grand Central Station with my uncle and all the commuters with their New York Times carefully three-folded . I had a wispy beard and super long hair for those days (over the ears meant weird) and I got a lot of strange looks from the briefcase heads. My uncle was a lawyer and he'd let me loose on the city the whole day with some bills in my pocket to see museums and art galleries he recommended. The money was for cabs and meals but then I found Times Square.
I had read Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and Capricorn and Kerouac's On the Road and had snuck in to see Belmondo in Breathless. I thought I knew what my mission was -- experience life to the fullest as a bohemian artistic libertine ... philosopher/musician/writer/actor/story-teller/bon-vivant/ wild ass combo of Herman Hesse/Jimi Hendrix/James Dean/Dean Moriarity. Yeah right. I probably had a journal somewhere that I never wrote in but at least I had the fucking thing with me.
Times Square was unbelievable compared to Vancouver. I would sometimes get turfed out of peep show places (that had real porn!) because I was too young looking or they just hated the hair and beads I was wearing for effect.
After a couple of weeks of spending five minutes in museums and walking to save cab fare and eating hot dogs, I had a poon stash of something like $70 or $80 (my uncle would get looped on the way home in the martini car and stuff some extra in my pocket). I tried a couple of massage parlours around the Square and got the boot each time. I remember one place where there were black girls all lined up on chairs in a row of what looked like a hallway outside the changing rooms in stores. There were about four of them in mini skirts and bras and the boinking rooms were merely feet away from them and there were just curtains on them. I started talking to an almost pretty one and was just about to get led into a curtained area when the black manager came over and spun me around by my tie-dyed shirt and threw me out.
One sweltering day, I got off the Square a bit and found a walk-up massage place. When I got to the top of the stairs, there was quite a large high-ceilinged space (looked like an old warehouse) with what appeared to be about a dozen plywood cubicles with flimsy doors with hook and eye enclosures. A tall, dangerously wiry and oily bored guy came out to a little desk and said in a smokey voice like Robbie Roberston talking in "Catch the Blue Train", "So what do you want, little man?" (I didn't get my full height until I was almost nineteen, so I was probably only about 5'5" back then). I gulped and said something like, "Well, you know." "Oh, up for a lttle fun, huh, little man?" he said.
He seemed really reluctant to let me past his desk but then he called out for one of the girls who came from the back. An equally bored blowsy young blonde of probably 18 came out from somewhere in the back and the guy said something like, "Well, honey will you do our 'little man' here?" She asked me how old I was and, of course, I lied and said 20. Yeah, sure, she says. The guy took $50 or $60 and there was no discussion of what I was getting for that. I was taken to one of the cubicles, told to lie down and she immediately unzipped me, jerked my jeans down a little and gave me this uninspired blow job. At first I remember looking up at the ceiling and thinking, wait, this isn't like Henry in Paris. It was muggy in this place, the mattress was dirty and the girl didn't even say anything just sucked away. I can still remember being able to hear the guy at the desk coughing away and the echo of high heels somewhere else in the place. I'm sure I was the only customer because it was 10 o'clock in the morning. I reached out for her tits and she flopped one out for me without even looking at me or stopping the blow job. The whole thing took about 5 minutes. Jacking off was way better than this. I left with my ears burning to the guy at the desk saying, "Have a good time, little man?" and smirking at me.
I convinced myself afterwards that this was not an intellectually honest thing to do because the girl was being forced by the awful guy somehow and that's why I hadn't enjoyed it. I never wanted to see another SP until I was in Amsterdam about five years later and my inner horndog went off like a rocket when I saw the women in the windows. I dropped my intellectual bullshit pretensions and found out about five times what I had learned about sex with various girlfriends in several sessions with women who clearly loved what they were doing.
Haven't had a pinch of shame since.
June of 1967. I still had quite a ways to go to get to twenty. I was staying for a month in my uncle and aunt's basement in upstate New York. Every day I'd ride the Erie Lackwana train down to Grand Central Station with my uncle and all the commuters with their New York Times carefully three-folded . I had a wispy beard and super long hair for those days (over the ears meant weird) and I got a lot of strange looks from the briefcase heads. My uncle was a lawyer and he'd let me loose on the city the whole day with some bills in my pocket to see museums and art galleries he recommended. The money was for cabs and meals but then I found Times Square.
I had read Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and Capricorn and Kerouac's On the Road and had snuck in to see Belmondo in Breathless. I thought I knew what my mission was -- experience life to the fullest as a bohemian artistic libertine ... philosopher/musician/writer/actor/story-teller/bon-vivant/ wild ass combo of Herman Hesse/Jimi Hendrix/James Dean/Dean Moriarity. Yeah right. I probably had a journal somewhere that I never wrote in but at least I had the fucking thing with me.
Times Square was unbelievable compared to Vancouver. I would sometimes get turfed out of peep show places (that had real porn!) because I was too young looking or they just hated the hair and beads I was wearing for effect.
After a couple of weeks of spending five minutes in museums and walking to save cab fare and eating hot dogs, I had a poon stash of something like $70 or $80 (my uncle would get looped on the way home in the martini car and stuff some extra in my pocket). I tried a couple of massage parlours around the Square and got the boot each time. I remember one place where there were black girls all lined up on chairs in a row of what looked like a hallway outside the changing rooms in stores. There were about four of them in mini skirts and bras and the boinking rooms were merely feet away from them and there were just curtains on them. I started talking to an almost pretty one and was just about to get led into a curtained area when the black manager came over and spun me around by my tie-dyed shirt and threw me out.
One sweltering day, I got off the Square a bit and found a walk-up massage place. When I got to the top of the stairs, there was quite a large high-ceilinged space (looked like an old warehouse) with what appeared to be about a dozen plywood cubicles with flimsy doors with hook and eye enclosures. A tall, dangerously wiry and oily bored guy came out to a little desk and said in a smokey voice like Robbie Roberston talking in "Catch the Blue Train", "So what do you want, little man?" (I didn't get my full height until I was almost nineteen, so I was probably only about 5'5" back then). I gulped and said something like, "Well, you know." "Oh, up for a lttle fun, huh, little man?" he said.
He seemed really reluctant to let me past his desk but then he called out for one of the girls who came from the back. An equally bored blowsy young blonde of probably 18 came out from somewhere in the back and the guy said something like, "Well, honey will you do our 'little man' here?" She asked me how old I was and, of course, I lied and said 20. Yeah, sure, she says. The guy took $50 or $60 and there was no discussion of what I was getting for that. I was taken to one of the cubicles, told to lie down and she immediately unzipped me, jerked my jeans down a little and gave me this uninspired blow job. At first I remember looking up at the ceiling and thinking, wait, this isn't like Henry in Paris. It was muggy in this place, the mattress was dirty and the girl didn't even say anything just sucked away. I can still remember being able to hear the guy at the desk coughing away and the echo of high heels somewhere else in the place. I'm sure I was the only customer because it was 10 o'clock in the morning. I reached out for her tits and she flopped one out for me without even looking at me or stopping the blow job. The whole thing took about 5 minutes. Jacking off was way better than this. I left with my ears burning to the guy at the desk saying, "Have a good time, little man?" and smirking at me.
I convinced myself afterwards that this was not an intellectually honest thing to do because the girl was being forced by the awful guy somehow and that's why I hadn't enjoyed it. I never wanted to see another SP until I was in Amsterdam about five years later and my inner horndog went off like a rocket when I saw the women in the windows. I dropped my intellectual bullshit pretensions and found out about five times what I had learned about sex with various girlfriends in several sessions with women who clearly loved what they were doing.
Haven't had a pinch of shame since.
Unfortunately, I do remember my first one.
If only she'd tried just a little ... more? less? ... she could've completely turned me off the hobby entirely. Instead I just have a massive grudge against her, and an extreme prejudice against SPs with her stage name - my loss, I know. I heard a rumor that she retired so maybe it's safe for me to go out and play again. It was at a massage place, and she was not just mechanical but almost despising of anyone coming in. If she'd just been honest said "you guys are such losers for coming here" I think I never would've been back to the hobby.
At least it's been getting better ever since then.
If only she'd tried just a little ... more? less? ... she could've completely turned me off the hobby entirely. Instead I just have a massive grudge against her, and an extreme prejudice against SPs with her stage name - my loss, I know. I heard a rumor that she retired so maybe it's safe for me to go out and play again. It was at a massage place, and she was not just mechanical but almost despising of anyone coming in. If she'd just been honest said "you guys are such losers for coming here" I think I never would've been back to the hobby.
At least it's been getting better ever since then.
It was around the beginning of 1999. I just moved to Metrotown from Abbotsford. and since being so sheltered there (I don't drive) I felt like the entire world just opened up to me. I had a pretty good idea but had always wondered about the joints in the province classifieds offering sweedish massage etc. While getting familiar with the area around me I noticed La'Merge on Kingsway... I knew it wasn't a good thing to do. but I was so curious that one day I went in there neverous as hell and didn't have a clue what to do. I paid at the desk (for the hour) and was shown into the room. I asked the reception about tips etc. but I had no clue what the range was (she wouldn't give me any info)
I was met by a pretty good looking brunette as I was waiting on the couch in the room. she sat and we talked for a while. I really appreciated her as she seemed very nice, accomodating and helped me to really relax. She wasn't flirty in any way, but took things easy. we talked about what I wanted (I didn't even know the lingo) so I undressed, layed down on the mattress on the floor, and she gave me a great CBJ. I really enjoyed it.
After I was frought with feelings of guilt and enjoyment. I told myself I wouldn't do that again. Six months later I went back there and visited someone different and went for CBJ/FS I was so disappointed as she lay down mish for me to stick it in she turned her head and let me do my thing and didn't even look at me or nothing. She handed me kleenex after got dressed and I was on my way. What a waste of funds.
I was met by a pretty good looking brunette as I was waiting on the couch in the room. she sat and we talked for a while. I really appreciated her as she seemed very nice, accomodating and helped me to really relax. She wasn't flirty in any way, but took things easy. we talked about what I wanted (I didn't even know the lingo) so I undressed, layed down on the mattress on the floor, and she gave me a great CBJ. I really enjoyed it.
After I was frought with feelings of guilt and enjoyment. I told myself I wouldn't do that again. Six months later I went back there and visited someone different and went for CBJ/FS I was so disappointed as she lay down mish for me to stick it in she turned her head and let me do my thing and didn't even look at me or nothing. She handed me kleenex after got dressed and I was on my way. What a waste of funds.
My first time was in Cuba 2 years ago. I was snorkeling on a beach 1 hour out of Havana with some friends when I met a beautiful dark skinned local woman that had the most amazing body. She was only about 5' tall, natural C's and a firm ass unlike any other I have seen. She didn't speak alot of english, but with the help of one of her friends, I found out she would spend the day and night with me for $50 US! We ordered fresh lobster cooked right on the beach, best ever. I had the most amazing time, sun, fun and sooo much sex. Went back to the hotel for a shower and some food. After dinner we went to an outdoor nightclub called "The 12 Apostles" that was built in one of the old forts that protected Havana's harbour. The sexiest dancing you have ever seen..... Didn't make it back to the hotel until 4 am. Had the wildest sex until daybreak. Definitely the horniest girl I have ever met, had to go to the 24hr government health clinic to get a second box of condoms 
After 3 days of that, I was so burnt out, I slept for 20 hours straight.....
I will never forget that trip
After 3 days of that, I was so burnt out, I slept for 20 hours straight.....
I will never forget that trip
I do remember it well..
In 1980 I was picked up by this woman(Marcie) in a bar in Lynwood north of Seattle who was the best sexual experience of all time. She had vaginal scrunch that could break brass balls. She had such control that she could actually lift me up off the bed. Wildest weekend ever.
I went to California the next week for a three month holiday and although I met and screwed many women down there I couldn't find the match to Marcie.
After my holidays which included a trip to Hawaii at spring break(lots of beach sex with college girls and yes they do go wild!) I had to go to Edmonton for business. They had a real circus down around the old Holiday Inn with a ton of SWs'.
Since I was yet to find another sexual gripper I thought these "professsional" girls would now how to completely satisfy me.
The young lady I picked up was "Candy" a half black/half native about 5'8 dressed in a summery style dress. I paid a hundred bucks and we drove over to the University district and had sex in my van. She must have liked me cause we spent well over an hour and a half doing everything. I took her for a coffee at Denny's and she gave me a BBBJ while I fingered her sopping wet pussy and tight ass in the parking lot for another $20.00.
I went back the next few nights and never seen her again, but when I picked up another SW was I shocked at what was reality in the trade was really all about. So over the pooning years I am definitely more wiser to value for service. And oh yeah, I am still looking for a gripper.
In 1980 I was picked up by this woman(Marcie) in a bar in Lynwood north of Seattle who was the best sexual experience of all time. She had vaginal scrunch that could break brass balls. She had such control that she could actually lift me up off the bed. Wildest weekend ever.
I went to California the next week for a three month holiday and although I met and screwed many women down there I couldn't find the match to Marcie.
After my holidays which included a trip to Hawaii at spring break(lots of beach sex with college girls and yes they do go wild!) I had to go to Edmonton for business. They had a real circus down around the old Holiday Inn with a ton of SWs'.
Since I was yet to find another sexual gripper I thought these "professsional" girls would now how to completely satisfy me.
The young lady I picked up was "Candy" a half black/half native about 5'8 dressed in a summery style dress. I paid a hundred bucks and we drove over to the University district and had sex in my van. She must have liked me cause we spent well over an hour and a half doing everything. I took her for a coffee at Denny's and she gave me a BBBJ while I fingered her sopping wet pussy and tight ass in the parking lot for another $20.00.
I went back the next few nights and never seen her again, but when I picked up another SW was I shocked at what was reality in the trade was really all about. So over the pooning years I am definitely more wiser to value for service. And oh yeah, I am still looking for a gripper.
S
Smother
not at all. You have talents they don't and our experience was awesome and needs to be repeated if we can get schedules to click. remember? Super hot afternoon, very steamy, sweaty sex. It was sweatier than Cool Hand Luke (very sweaty movie). You're in my top three of all time baby and....well I can't say what I want publicly here but...you know.Avarice said:
Remember like it was yesterday...
This will really date me but it was a place on Broadway that is long gone called Shiatsu Plus. Anyone remember it?
Anyway, Incredibly nervous didn't know what to expect or what to do but I was hooked. By hooked I mean I can quit any time I want.
This will really date me but it was a place on Broadway that is long gone called Shiatsu Plus. Anyone remember it?
Anyway, Incredibly nervous didn't know what to expect or what to do but I was hooked. By hooked I mean I can quit any time I want.
There is one just off of Broadway called shiatsu plus. It is just around the corner from Intrigue by touch.Simonnn said:
1st year university, all of 19 years old, just aimlessly crusing around on my Honda 450, when I saw this very hot young black SW standing on a corner in the track section of Toronto. Could not resist temptation, brought her back to residence, and she spent an hour with me, doing it all GFE. It seemed that for both of us it was more of a good time for each rather than a business transaction. Cost was $20 which was not bad money way back then.
My first SP was Sabina
way back when she used to live in Richmond...i'm sure she doesnt remember me anymore....havnt seen her since...although she is slammin
way back when she used to live in Richmond...i'm sure she doesnt remember me anymore....havnt seen her since...although she is slammin
I was in Las Vegas in 1988, on my way to visit a friend in Albuquerque. I'd been celibate for a lengthy period of time after ending a relationship that was based pretty much entirely on sex. The self-imposed celibacy was a reaction to the fact that I was kind of sexually burned out (and yes, I look back on it now and say "were you NUTS or what?" ) and wanted to go in a totally different direction for a while. Anyway, there I was in Vegas and I decided it was time to end that particular phase of my life.
Naive creature that I was at that time, I called an agency and a woman who looked like a movie star arrived at my hotel room within half an hour. After "hello", she began upselling. The $200 I'd been quoted got her TO the hotel. Oh, okay. They neglected to mention that to me on the phone.
After a bit of back and forth, she asked "so how much money DO you have?" I was pretty sure that if I told her what I actually had in my wallet, that would be the price of an encounter. So I told her that I had an additional $200 over and above what I'd already given her. I was informed that that was exactly what it would take for me to get the best blowjob of my life. At this point it was "in for a penny, in for a pound" and I decided to see if she was right.
She wasn't. It was quite ordinary, actually. And she didn't bother to get undressed beyond taking off her top. I guess allowing me to see her great boobs covered by a bra was pretty special in her mind.
When she left, my first thought was "in my next lifetime, I'm coming back as an escort in Las Vegas ... what a gig!". My second thought was "okay, I've tried paying for sex. There's something I won't ever do again.".
Four hundred American bucks in 1988 dollars for an uninspired blowjob by a mostly clothed woman (I will concede that she was breathtakingly gorgeous) who was gone within twenty minutes of her arrival. I'm surprised I ever DID give this hobby another try, based on that initial experience. But I did (three years elapsed before that happened) and I'm mighty glad that I did.
) and wanted to go in a totally different direction for a while. Anyway, there I was in Vegas and I decided it was time to end that particular phase of my life. Naive creature that I was at that time, I called an agency and a woman who looked like a movie star arrived at my hotel room within half an hour. After "hello", she began upselling. The $200 I'd been quoted got her TO the hotel. Oh, okay. They neglected to mention that to me on the phone.
After a bit of back and forth, she asked "so how much money DO you have?" I was pretty sure that if I told her what I actually had in my wallet, that would be the price of an encounter. So I told her that I had an additional $200 over and above what I'd already given her. I was informed that that was exactly what it would take for me to get the best blowjob of my life. At this point it was "in for a penny, in for a pound" and I decided to see if she was right.
She wasn't. It was quite ordinary, actually. And she didn't bother to get undressed beyond taking off her top. I guess allowing me to see her great boobs covered by a bra was pretty special in her mind.
When she left, my first thought was "in my next lifetime, I'm coming back as an escort in Las Vegas ... what a gig!". My second thought was "okay, I've tried paying for sex. There's something I won't ever do again.".
Four hundred American bucks in 1988 dollars for an uninspired blowjob by a mostly clothed woman (I will concede that she was breathtakingly gorgeous) who was gone within twenty minutes of her arrival. I'm surprised I ever DID give this hobby another try, based on that initial experience. But I did (three years elapsed before that happened) and I'm mighty glad that I did.
