Half imagined stories come and go without being written down. The garden is awakening and demands attention. My guitar stands idle and dusty as my finger tips soften. And now when I should be out running to clear my mind to work through Sunday I decide that I want to visit Wicked Wednesday and finally post something again. When I do I will learn of your stories and challenges and however briefly and distantly share something with kindred spirits. There has been a part of my life lived in secret for many years but the warmth and honesty of this community has helped me to not only come to terms with that but share the pleasure it brings.
These last few months have been hard. I know that these things are relative and try to keep a sense of perspective - I have much to be grateful for and the horrors that have happened in this same time period to others make my travails feel insignificant. But still I have a nagging sense that I am not coping as well as I should and that I am making mistakes that only make things worse.
Writing this is a displacement activity, of course, because the deadline is approaching to finish something that I took on without any thought to help someone out. If I can finish it I will be paid but I really don't believe in what I am doing. Any yet to not finish it will not only let people down but will damage my sense of self worth so in an hour or two I must try again.
I have almost recovered from the fall now but everyday I am reminded that two months without exercise takes a considerable toll on a body this old. I still don't understand how or why I fell and that nags at me too. My wife's illness is debilitating for us both. It may have been developing for years but still came out of a clear blue sky. It isn't life threatening but she can no longer do the things that she enjoys, things that are good for her mental health and help her keep the drinking to a manageable level. She is determined not to be disabled but watching her pain come and go is difficult.
We will shortly begin the process of seeking surgical intervention and we know it is the only way to restore some of her mobility but it will be a hard road and impact us both for many months to come.
The plans we had been making for a post Covid world are all now on hold and we increasingly live in the present. As I always do I have taken on too much work and some of things I agreed to do have not worked out as I hoped and I spend long hours trying to deal with them. Failure, even, when it is through no fault of my own is not something I accept easily.
My libido has been dropping out for days at time but hasn't gone away completely. As always it can be triggered in unexpected ways but in the current circumstances that isn't always the welcome distraction it can be in better times. My wife's illness may well mean that our sex life which has been intermittent as best these last few years is over completely. I have found solace with Julia many times and while our relationship remains one of service provider and client we talk in between meetings and I know that she too has had a very difficult time during Covid. Each time things seem to be looking up she has encountered a fresh obstacle and her grit and determination in the face of adversity are extraordinary.
I need the physical solace she offers me and I need it soon. They way she gives her body when we are together helps me mentally ans well as physically. I sometimes feel guilty that I feel no guilt but the title of that book from the 70s - The Joy of Sex - sums up what she gives me. (And to be honest I never got to do some of the things I read about in the book until I met Julia!)
This was supposed to be about a Limited Edition something I have one of two examples of and I enjoy that feeling of slight superiority that their ownership offers but right now the Limited Edition I really crave is a day all to myself to relax, enjoy music, food, the trees, the flowers that beginning to emerge and then to have utterly uninhibited sex with Julia. Somehow before this day is over I will finally finish this damned piece of professional writing and then scour the diary to find a few hours when I can escape and let Julia work her magic on me.
Creator: Silver Screen Collection | Credit: Getty Images Copyright: 2016 Silver Screen Collection
When I was a young man I watched the movie Cabaret and fell in love with Sally Bowles played by Liza Minnelli. On stage Sally exuded self confident sexuality but off stage she was sweet and vulnerable. I was so taken with the world the film portrayed that I began to read the Chistopher Isherwood books it was based on. The city described by Isherwood was living on borrowed time and the Nazis destroyed that freedom and in the years that followed the Soviet Union imposed a drab authoritarian regime on half the city while the western half was an isolated outpost of capitalism.
If I had been a time traveller I would have headed for the Berlin of Isherwood but in the real world all I could do was watch the film again and again and fantasize about Liza/Sally (I’m sure that is where my love of a woman in stockings and suspenders started) And then the wall came down and the city came back to life.
In the years after I had to visit the city often for work and explored it’s bars, cafes, galleries, museums and inevitably its brothels. There was an enlightened view of sex work that meant it was legal and well managed. There were numerous brothels which had none of the seediness that was common in London and the women who worked there were treated well.
I had only a little German but most of the girls spoke English and I had some wonderful relaxed afternoons that made me love the city even more. Many of those brothels have gone and there are now some mega brothels in their place. I haven’t visited them myself and they have no appeal to me. I have it on good authority, however, that if you are young and enjoy sex there are plenty of places where you will find like minded people. Sadly I while I enjoy sex and still love pushing my limits an apparently respectable old man is unlikely to be welcome in such places.
The extraordinary Templehof airport in the city centre where we used to land and walk straight to our hotel (and where the planes flew in during the Berlin AirLift) is long gone and the city itself has changed at a staggering pace though it still retains some of its charm and some extraordinary historical reminders. Sitting in the national stadium watching Hertha Berlin play just a few yards from where Hitler had addressed those huge crowds was a strange experience.
I rarely visit these days and when I do my wife is with me. But I do miss the sex. Having illicit sex felt like I was honouring the tradition of decadence that Berlin had for so many years. One of the old style brothels does survive though. Liberty rather splendidly is just behind the famous KaDeWe department store on the Kudam! When we visit that store I hope my wife doesn’t notice the wistful look on my face. I keep hoping that something will come up requiring me to visit the city alone one more time - even a day trip so I could relive one of those afternoons of 30 years ago would make an old man happy!.
Thanks to the encouragement of Marie and May here is the third part
of Michael's adventures with the neighbour upstairs.
In case you missed them Part one starts here
The long summer days began to shorten and Autumn put its gentle hold on the street where Michael lived. Now each week when his wife, Jennifer, left for her yoga class, he would ascend the stairs knowing Gabriela would be waiting for him.
That first time when he had told her about his fantasy of spanking a woman she had made it become a reality. In the weeks since he had learned so much and though their time together was short she kept offering him new experiences. Sometime she would lay across his knees while he turned her cheeks red but other times she stood proudly and encouraged him to strike her harder. She taught him how to use the paddle, the flogger and once asked him to cane her. The fact that he could still see the marks on her arse a week later both excited and frightened him.
It was this that led to their first conversation about reversing roles. Gabriela talked to him about what he should do if he wanted to both inflict pain on a submissive but also sexually arouse her. Now she told him that the if he was to do this well he needed to experience an extended punishment session himself. He thought a lot about this over the next few weeks and the idea of being completely at the mercy of a beautiful woman had some appeal though the thought of the pain he might have to endure concerned him. But he finally persuaded himself that he should not inflict on an another something he was not prepared to accept himself and agreed to a switch session.
It had become clear that Jennifer and Gabriela were now on first name terms and that they too had shared coffee. However he doubted their conversation covered the same ground. He knew that Gabriela enjoyed sex with women as well as men but it seemed most unlikely that the very proper Jennifer would even notice one of Gabriela's subtle come-ons. So when Jennifer decided it was time for pre-Christmas break with her aunt Michael wasn't surprised that Gabriela soon told him that this was to be the time to switch. "This will be you first experience of submission and I will make it very special for you" she promised and that smile made him believe her as it always did.
Gabriela explained that she needed to visit a client at a hotel on the Friday evening of Jenifer's trip but suggested a late drink when she would talk him through how he should prepare to get the most out of their session the next day. While he waited for her to arrive he realised he felt no guilt and had no regrets about taking up her invitation that first time. Later as they shared a glass of Chianti she explained that not only should he be showered but also needed to take an anal douche. This was something new but he was relieved a little when she handed him package that contained all he needed as well as some instructions. Finally she told him to be outside her door at 6 pm the following day. Then she smiled once more, leaned close to him and whispered "Don't be late - each minute you are means an extra stroke of the cane my dear."
In Part 4 Michael has something of an Epiphany.....
The Barefoot Sub's kind comments last week inspired me to consider what Michael did next and in the spirit of WW it will undoubtedly include some cooking. I should also make clear that despite sharing a name this Michael bears little relationship to myself though I can still be nervous when meeting someone for the first time as I once explained here
Part 1 is here
Michael had bought the most expensive biscuits he could find in the corner shop and spent a long time in the bathroom not only showering but grooming himself too. He wasn't sure why he had done this as it was just a coffee with a neighbour after all. But he did know why. She had said "or something more if you like" and he had been wondering about that ever since. He was still quite young and his body was in good shape thanks to the early morning runs and careful diet. He knew he was attractive to women but had only ever had sex with one woman - his wife and even though he often thought about doing something different in bed he never quite had the nerve to tell her.
He was almost ready to ascend the stairs when he heard someone coming down and leaving. Disappointment descended on him and he slumped in a chair. A few moments later he heard noise from upstairs and was transformed. He leapt from the chair, out of the door and bounded up the stairs and before he had a chance to doubt the wisdom of it was knocking on her door. She took a moment to answer and when she did he could see that she was wearing a dressing gown and frowning. Then she looked at him and smiled "Oh its you. I thought it was ..well never mind what I thought. You've come for that coffee haven't you?" she said and before he could do more that push the biscuits towards her she went on " I was just taking a shower and then I was going to cook some supper - why don't you join me in a couple of hours? It will just be a simple Italian meal." He tried to say something but no words emerged. " OK - see you at 6.30 and you can bring the wine." she added. He turned and headed back down heard her call after him "My name is Gabriela - what's yours?". "Michael" he stuttered as he heard her door closing.
At the appointed hour he was standing outside her door once more this time holding a bottle of wine from the store. He knew nothing about wine but hoped an Italian red would be appropriate. This time she was smiling and wearing what looked like a loosely fitting man's shirt with the top two buttons open to reveal her cleavage. It stopped at the top of her legs which were bare as were her feet. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek and he felt his pulse race. He tried to remember if that had ever happened before and drew a blank.
Once inside he could smell something rich and spicy and she walked through to the little kitchen and started cooking the pasta. The meal was wonderful and they talked about food. She was from an Italian family and had been cooking from an early age. He explained that he knew little beyond the most basic recipes and that his wife did most of the cooking and insisted that their meals be calorie controlled and contain no meat. She began to apologise for serving him a Bolognese sauce but for the first time in her presence he laughed. "I love meat and when I have to go for meals with people for work that's what I choose - thought with water rather than wine. of course" He was aware that he had now drunken two glasses and he felt emboldened to pay her several compliments about her cooking and now about her long red hair.
He realised that he might be over stepping the mark and hastily excused himself saying "May I use the bathroom?" She nodded and he didn't ask for directions as it was a small flat. However the first door he tried was the bedroom. For a moment he was puzzled by what he saw and then it began to come into focus and as it did his face reddened and yet again his pulse rose. Hanging on the wall were some canes and what looked like leather whips and paddles while on the bed were some leather straps and chains. He turned and quickly went back to the living room fully intent on leaving but she was standing waiting having realised what he had done. "I'm sorry you had to see what was in there but please don't go. Let me explain."
She insisted that they sit in the easy chairs and refilled their glasses. His couldn't get the image of the bedroom out of his mind and he also kept recalling that when he had trouble ejaculating while having sex with his wife the most sure fire way to hurry things along was to imagine himself striking her bottom over and over again until it was red and hot to the touch. Gabriela explained that her day job paid poorly but that she had found a way to supplement her income. He stopped her as he might be naive but he did know that some women provided men with services for money. It was probably the drink that loosened his tongue but he heard himself saying "Do you hit them or do they hit you?"
"It can be either" she replied and the with that wonderful smile of her's she added "Which would you prefer?"
Ah the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song
Oh, I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long
The touch of her hands, her lips, her body calms me, nourishes me, gives me energy that sustains me long after we part. She is beautiful and her body shows the care she takes of it. I remember so clearly the first time we were together. She opened her legs and the beautiful, fragrant, private place she shared with me reminded me of A, who was in my life for a few, extraordinary months two decades earlier. She explored my body without hesitation and took me to a place that only a woman’s touch can.
I know I am not alone in spending a few, short hours with her. She sometimes speaks of others and some see her more frequently but I don’t feel envy. I know that her gift by its very nature needs to be shared. When we meet for coffee or speak on the phone she is both funny and business like, sometimes exasperated and occasionally angry. Far too often she encounters people who simply fail to understand or value what she offers.
When we are naked she visibly relaxes, a smile spreads across her face and her body softens. She is in her domain, the place where her hard won skills and natural warmth work together to create something remarkable even magical as she makes my fantasies real. I have lain naked with many women - sometimes I charmed them from their clothes but others I paid. Some had a sexual energy that permitted no inhibitions, no nervousness on my part but it had been years since I experienced the pure release that such openness brings. Now I know I speak about my secret desires without being afraid that she will shrink away and it is an unexpected joy. She does not always consent but the conversation and sometimes negotiation encourages me to keep asking.
At times she displays a charming modesty. She never asks to be pleasured but I know she has needs of her own and I try but there are times when my incompetent fumblings fail to take her to orgasm and she has to do it for herself. She then apologies quite unnecessarily but it is such a sweet thing to do.
She does make clear what she expects from her lovers and it is deeply disappointing that she is let down by men who fail to recognise her for the superb professional she has become. She describes herself as the “Ultimate Courtesan” and she is right to do so indeed she would not have been out of place in 16th century Venice catering to the needs of the city’s rich and powerful.
She does so much more than give me a few hours of pure pleasure. She gives something which sustains me long after we have parted and I return to my wife. A wife I love deeply though our sexual needs and appetites have changed. There have been times when a work colleagues offer of coffee and lingering touch have been an unmistakable invitation. But I know what happens when an affair begins. I have been in that place before and I know the risks and they are risks I am no longer willing to take.
And so it is that this extraordinary woman helps keep that marriage alive. She is not the only courtesan I see and she encourages me to meet others. She knows how I have this need to fuck masked strangers but it is Julia that I return to and talk to about my adventures. She listens, shares and helps open me up to new experiences but always she gives me nourishment, warmth and that sustaining energy I take away with me.
She is special and I count myself fortunate to have found her. The English language does not provide the right words to describe what we share - I give her money when we meet but she gives me things that have no monetary value. I know the day will come when her life takes her elsewhere but until then I will continue to relish my minutes spent with this sweet sister of mercy.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night
We weren't lovers like that and besides, it would still be alright
We're gonna let it all hang out
We're gonna chug-a-lug and shout
We're gonna cause talk and suspicion
Give an exhibition
Find out what it is all about
J J Cale - After Midnight
Not really about "Ceremony" WW#390 although given half a chance I make it something of a ritual - not writing much at the moment so sharing this while its fresh
Once, before the internet, I lived alone in a part of town where there was a local paper published every Friday. At the back of the paper in the personals were advertisements for massage parlours and escort agencies. Sometimes I would find myself late in the evening wanting to fuck a woman and the newspaper would call out to me.
Finally I would give in and look at the ads, circle an agency and call the number. The receptionist would begin by letting me know who was working that evening but back then I wasn’t looking for any particular kinks just a good looking woman who was ready to be fucked. Back then I could drink a lot but still get rock hard without any assistance so it was straightforward hard cock in tight vagina I wanted. Once we had established that someone like "Blonde Jennifer aged 25" was available and could be with me in 30 minutes, we agreed on the length of her visit and the price and I put down the phone.
My heart would be racing by now and I had to get ready. I would take a shower but I didn’t pay the same attention to personal grooming as I do now. I certainly didn't shave my genitals but then it was very unlikely that Blonde Jennifer would be shaved either but I would be clean and sweet smelling when she arrived. The anticipation was excruciating as I imagined what she might look like, whether she would be wearing stockings, how she would speak but above all how she would behave. Would she be businesslike and just want to get it over with or would she accept my offer of a drink and chat for a while letting me feast on glimpses of her thighs and breasts before kissing me?
The street door buzzer disturbed my reverie and I felt my cock instantly harden. This was it – she was standing outside the block and I quickly moved to the door and let her in saying I’m in flat 14 on the second floor. It was nearly 1 am and the noise of her heels on the stone stairs seemed incredibly loud as she made her way up. I now faced a dilemma – did I open the door fully and watch her as she emerged from the stair or wait until she was almost outside? Despite my excitement I would make myself wait until I could hear her approach the door.
Now it was game on – in a few second I would see the woman who would be ready to open her legs and let me push my penis into her cunt. The thrill of seeing the face of that stranger is simply one of the best things I did, and still do – what comes later will be satisfying but nothing compares to those first few seconds. This time she is beautiful, she is smiling, she is dressed in a way that emphasises her figure and she is here to be fucked.
I have no idea how many times I did this and albeit in a different ways that thrill is something I still pursue and those escorts who don’t reveal their faces like Jade or Carla have given me some utterly memorable sessions. Two of those encounters from that time stick in my mind. There was the girl with long brown hair who dressed like she was heading for the local pub rather than a sexual encounter. She was pretty and spoke openly about only working occasionally as an escort. She said she enjoyed having sex and if she didn’t have a regular boyfriend she contacted the agency and asked them to arrange a few clients for her. The mind plays funny tricks and I remember clearly that she was wearing a pair of really good fishnet stockings that I took great delight in caressing as I move towards her vagina to prepare it for penetration.
The other was a a slim short haired blonde in her early twenties who seemed a little nervous when she arrived and reluctant to remove her clothes. Eventually she confessed that she wasn’t really an escort at all! She was the receptionist and when I called she was knew that all the escorts were busy and wouldn't be making any more visits that night. She was, of course, well aware that they would be paid more for having sex with a single client than she would for a whole shift and she had decided to take the booking herself. My first reaction was to tell her to leave but she persuaded me that she really was happy for me to fuck her and removed her her skirt and knickers to prove it. Strangely she insisted on keeping her tee shirt on however. She proved to be an enthusiastic partner but years later I realised what an opportunity I missed. A young pretty girl was giving me the opportunity to be her first paying customer and I should have given her encouragement and support and taught her how to please me rather than just fuck her. It is something that I really only learned later – the best escorts will be very clear and even matter of fact about sex but if you make an effort to ensure the experience is enjoyable for them too you will be rewarded! I know escorts who have orgasms with me and I am certain they are for real and I am always clear that I am happy to do whatever it is that they enjoy in return for the pleasure they give me. It would never have occurred to me back then that some girls really do get a kick out of fucking men with a strap on but I am glad I found out.
The wider world has changed just as my private world has changed in the years since but the thrill of hearing those high heels clicking toward my door remains with me still. In fact I think I shall have very soon have to go to a hotel and arrange for a complete stranger to come knocking at my door after midnight one more time!
Newspaper headline "Middle East Deadline"
Jazz musicians are down on the breadline
Soho (needless to say)
I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening
Soho (needless to say), Al Stewart
This week's prompt is "Unmentionable" and while some of the things Carla and I did might be unmentionable in polite company that isn't the link. The very fact that I had a joyous two hours with her is unmentionable to my friends, my family and in particular, my wife, which is a shame because it was a lot of fun but at least I can share it with you! PS - Isobel will be back next week
Picture of Carla James used with her permission
It felt good being back in Soho with sex on my mind but the nerves that usually reach a crescendo as the time of an appointment approaches were strangely absent. I was about to spend the afternoon playing out an extended scene with one of London's most accomplished role players yet I wasn't nervous! Had I known what the next two hours would involve I would have been but Carla's warmth had shone through our email exchanges as we worked out the roles we would play - I the "Master" and she the "Submissive" albeit one who knew what she wanted and how to get it only too well.
And then there were the masks! I have long harboured a fantasy about sex with a complete stranger while we are both masked - only when my cock is deep in her cunt are the masks removed and we see each other's faces for the first time. By the time I left that particular itch was going to be well and truly scratched.
The flat had a delightfully decadent feel while the four poster hinted of pleasures to come. When I emerged from the shower I found "Miss James" standing tall in heels, stockings and exquisite underwear - she looked me in the eye and handed me a collar and leash. I resisted the temptation to lay hands on her arse and spank it because she needed to be collared and then made to kneel before me so she could take my cock between her lips for the first but not the last time that afternoon.
I knew Carla could switch and I had given her free rein to take her character where she wanted but there was a palpable tension in the air when Miss James first asserted herself and made it clear that if I was to continue to enjoy her body I would need to let the alpha female out to play for a while. In that mood she was just a little frightening and I really shouldn't have encouraged her read my about the caning given to me by Julia because before long I understood what the four poster was really for as I was first tied to it then flogged.
But there is only so much a man can take and I reasserted myself making it clear that it was now time for her to present that marvellous rear for some attention. I let her know that if she behaved herself perhaps an orgasm might just be permissible too Unfortunately for her she allowed herself to come much too soon so now she too would feel the sting of the flogger and the paddle. Yet this punishment only served to cause her to demand yet again that I, despite being the master, should actually submit to her perverted desires.
However I have been called a gentleman on occasion and it is rude to deny a lady her wish to have a little fun so I felt obliged to do as I was told. Being half choked by Miss James's strap-on cock as it was rammed down my throat may not have been uppermost in my mind earlier while I wandered the streets of my old stomping ground but here I was on my knees learning what a face fuck feels like. When told to present my arse ready for a serious pegging I knew that I would have to make her regret this outrageous behaviour before we finished.
The creator of Miss James had told me during our planning that she enjoys giving A play and she now set about demonstrating just how skilled she is at it (and here I must thank Julia who has been mentoring me for some time - had this been my first time I fear I would have been overwhelmed by the extended fucking I had to take).
Nevertheless being penetrated so expertly and deeply was a challenge to my self control and I knew that if something wasn't done I would find my self repeating Miss James's error. So I forced myself to call a halt and once more I asserted my dominance of this extraordinary woman by insisted that it was now her turn to kneel and see just how far down her throat she could take a cock - quite a long way as it turned out!
Finally it was time for me to fuck this gorgeous, infuriating and alluring creature - and so I did. After a few deep thrusts into that lovely cunt she in turn mounted me and the moment I had been waiting for so long had arrived. As Carla looked down at me first she removed her mask revealing just how pretty that face is and then removed mine too although this revealed a somewhat craggier visage, of course.
In my fantasy at this point I not only kiss the beautiful stranger but ejaculate as I do so. I at least managed to kiss those sweet lips however as for the latter I am man of advanced years who had just undertaken an afternoon of extraordinarily vigorous sexual activity - well that's my excuse. Fortunately another of Carla's many virtues is patience so with more than a little manual assistance from her matters eventually reached a highly satisfactory if messy conclusion.
Now out of character we chatted for a while and I moaned about how Soho wasn't the same since Jimmy's closed down like I do while Carla told me about where she spends some of her private time and other matters which are no one's business but ours.
Carla James is a very special person - you quickly realise that if you met her in any circumstances her warmth and humour would draw you to her and being in her company would help make the world feel like a better place. I don't know what the path was that led her to become the exquisitely skilled professional she is today but for the time we were together she committed herself totally to making our private, intimate drama become a performance that would have merited a standing ovation had there been an audience to witness it.
I am a fortunate man to be able to occasionally enjoy such pleasures and I thank Carla for making it possible and I even have a sufficiently large ego to believe her when she said that she too had found it to be a rather "hot" afternoon.
Carla James web site can be found here - she is also a rather good advert for the Kinky London Escorts group (KLE)
Savior, Annie Clark aka St. Vincent
Royalty free Photograph by Anatoly Tiplyashin
When I was going through puberty I recall having fantasies about being kidnapped and placed inside a box with a hole in it through which people reached through and "did things" to my penis and testicles. I have no idea where I got this from but it prompted me to do some odd and potentially dangerous things to myself and in particular try and find ways to apply heat to my penis without actually burning it - somehow I survived without doing any lasting harm to myself.
I had a very ordinary childhood and adolescence - I wasn't abused and didn't see anything I shouldn't have. Of course by the time I was in my late teens I sort of understood some of the jokes about spanking but really didn't give it much thought. It was my encounter with A (Cheating Heart Reprised) that really started me thinking about pain and restraint. After A my then girlfriend, later wife, who was always relatively passive during sex was happy to be gently restrained but wasn't interested in impact play at all.
Inevitably I began to look for opportunities to play out some of my kinky fantasies with sex workers. This didn't go particularly well and I usually ended up with quite mixed feelings. I have written about the first of these encounters in the post "Three Lions on Your Chest" but a few years later I had a great experience in Soho with a gorgeous woman who had the poshest of accents and gave me a whipping that I now realise was really quite gentle - the sex after was pretty damn good too. This time I didn't go back because I was afraid I had enjoyed it too much and could very easily get hooked on someone that lovely!
I shall pass quickly over the woman who reminded me of the witches in Macbeth and tied me up then asked me if I wanted my cock chopping off (being British I told her that on the whole I would rather not so she used a vibrator instead and as long as I kept me eyes shut it was OK). There was another very enjoyable Soho encounter with a lady in black latex which involved my one and only experience with electrics. The significance of this is that my sexual bucket list therefore doesn't contain the use of electrical stimulation.
What it did have on it until today was taking a caning and yes you can see where this narrative is going! Today I visited the wonderful Julia who I have been enjoying some really hot and inventive sessions with for more than 3 years now. Julia is not a Dominatrix and doesn't seek clients who want that service. However some time ago I spotted a couple of canes in the corner of her room and asked about them. She explained that one or two of her other regular clients had requested that she use them and as she always aims to please she acquired the canes.
I have to make a somewhat sordid confession at this point - I have watched quite a few caning movies (and worse - though I do try to avoid the Russian stuff - most of it is vile) and really rather enjoyed most of them. I even visited a professional spankee once but frankly wasn't too clever with the cane myself so we did something else which was quite good fun too!.
But for years I have felt I need to know what it feels like to have a cane coming down across your arse and trusting Julia as I do I decided that today was the day. Now many of the bloggers who post on Wicked Wednesday are themselves experienced subs or switches - I am in awe of the beatings that The Bibulous One takes and I am very clear that I did little more than dabble today. However after warming me up with a flogger and a paddle Julia delivered 6 strokes - I was then ridiculously pleased with myself when I asked for another 3!
It wasn't a severe beating by any standard but it helped me to understand the comment made by Niki Flynn in her book, Dances with Werewolves (1) "It's not the caning itself I get off on: it's the aftermath. I don't actually like being caned; I like having been caned."
Afterwards we proceeded to have a really good time the details of which are not relevant to this post other than to say a huge thank you to Julia for a morning I will long remember. When I got home I thought it wise to check for bruising - alright I was hoping that there would be some evidence so I could feel like I really had been caned - and yes there was! (2)
Next item on the Sex bucket list is a role play with one KLE's finest but that is still in the planning phase. I know I am trying to turn fantasy into reality but some fantasies have to stay that way - unless anyone can let me have Annie Clark's phone number? Meanwhile despite being inordinately pleased with my marks I will have to spend Easter making sure my wife doesn't see them - so I thought I'd share them with you instead.
(1) - the book was drawn to my attention by one òf the Bibulous One's posts and it really is worth reading - even if you don't have the slightest interest in caning or spanking. You can get it as a Kindle download from Amazon - I rather hope my wife will assume its just another of the Urban Fantasy novels I read and not bother opening it!
(2) - in case you were wondering taking a picture of your own arse isn't really all that difficult if you have a good camera!
I guess I'm one of nature's optimists so when my business meeting fell though a few weeks ago it meant I had a couple of hours to myself in town. Not that many years ago this would have been an opportunity for spontaneous, casual sex and I would have looked for a phone box with plenty of cards or rung Les Girls to see who was working. Back then it didn't take much to start my mind wandering - once I saw an attractive woman wearing a leather skirt, jacket and high heels waiting at the station and by the time I was in London I knew I had to have sex - and soon! These days more planning goes in to it and I have learned to enjoy the anticipation - and the week of abstinence before hand too!
I began wondering if it was still possible to get laid without resorting to the internet so being near Baker Street - the scene of many a fleeting hour of pleasure - I decided to walk from there to Berwick Street in Soho where Les Girls were for many years. I failed to spot a single card near Baker Street although there was evidence that they had been present but Westminster Council had done their usual thorough removal job. The cards back then were quite basic and the pictures bore little or no resemblance to the woman you would meet. These days when you see a working girl described as "young" you worry that it actually means a 16 or 17 year old or worse but then it meant anyone under the age of 50! Yet sometimes you got lucky. It was how I met "Flame" a sweet girl with a spectacular mane of red hair and a penchant for wearing latex even on the hottest of days - her card simply consisted of a line drawing of a woman in rubber and her number - it certainly worked for me!
I made my way down to Bond Street and headed for Soho - still no cards on view. As I tuned into Berwick Street the memories came flooding back. In some ways the street was just the same - certainly the market was still there but were the sex workers? This was where the "walk ups" were to be found with their hand written cards alerting passers by to the availability of "French Lessons" or the opportunity to purchase a "Large Chest". All long gone. Les Girls was very different and in many ways ahead of its time. They described themselves as "a group of professional working girls whose aim is to provide a high standard of personal services in accordance with their clients' needs and delivered in a healthy and mutually respectful environment." They started in the mid 1990's and were early adopters of an internet presence. Many girls worked there over the years but the two I saw most often were Paige and Chelsea - they were both attractive physically but more importantly were warm, friendly people who really tried to make sure you had a good time.
If I found myself with a free Saturday evening a session at Les Girls followed by a meal at Jimmy's in Frith Street then collecting an early edition of the Sunday papers on the way home was a real treat. Three things that were unique to London all now gone and almost forgotten.
Blore Court was a dead end off Berwick Street and it now seems to have disappeared into a new building on the corner with Peter Street. It felt safe and clean and you really were made to feel welcome. If we lived in a parallel Universe where honesty ruled there would now be a Blue Plaque there telling the world about Les Girls who helped me understand that engaging with independent professionals was so much better for both clients and providers.
Still no cards to be seen though the thought crossed my mind as to what I would do if I found some? Would I make the call and head off to have sex with a complete stranger? For all of 30 seconds I considered this and then thought about what J, the superb professional I now see regularly, would have to say. My guess is she would read the riot act - she considers health, safety and hygiene as being utterly non-negotiable and I suspect that if I confessed to a casual encounter like that I would find my self rapidly removed from her "white list"!
I finally did find a phone box with some cards clearly on display. It was just by the Edith Cavell memorial in St Martin's Place - not a hot spot for the sex trade as far as I am aware. I was about to go in and take a closer look (purely for research purposes of course) when a Chinese couple decided that this was the ideal place for some wedding photos - I am guessing that they liked the idea of having a quaint red London phone box in the picture but I can't help wondering if they noticed the unusual adverts too!
Well goodness me! I submitted this to Wicked Wednesday and the Bibulous One has chosen it as one of the top three! He said "My final pick surprised me most, as it soon became apparent that I was reading a blog my a man who sees sex workers! We (men who write about this) are as rare as, well… something very rare indeed and so I really enjoyed Fear and Anticipation from Old Mike. His writing about his fear and anticipation before a meeting with an escort rings totally true for me. I like his acceptance that the meeting will mean different things for her than for him, and yet: “That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure.” Sounds exactly right." His blog is extraordinary and i'm honoured by his kind words.
Fear. Fear and anticipation. Pulse racing, guts in turmoil. Is this a huge mistake?
I am about to stand naked in front of another human being. I have not seen her face though her body is familiar from the photographs on her web site. If it is her body?
I have not heard her voice though her words are now familiar and resonate with what I hope to find. If they are her words?
Memories of past occasions when my fear was wholly justified crowd in but so too do those of times when the next, short, while was better, infinitely better than I could have hoped.
It isn’t the physical that makes me afraid but the question that cannot be asked in advance – will we connect? I remind myself that for the woman I am about to meet this is just another encounter with a new client. For her it will be mundane; her thoughts will be elsewhere. Once I heard them verbalised and learned that considerations of what the children will be given for supper can cause my erection to wilt in seconds.
Today I have requested a mask to sustain the mystery of the blurred face a little longer. And to let me play out my recurring fantasy of fucking a complete stranger silently, anonymously and only beginning to communicate when she is already sitting astride me with my cock buried deep inside her.
As my train crosses the river gleaming in the morning sun a text arrives telling me where to find her flat. I walk back across the same river wondering if any of the people I pass have similar thoughts – are they too planning to seek the thrill that comes with having sex with a stranger and anxious about the fear that comes before the thrill?
I decide that they are not because I need to feel that I am set apart from the workaday world, I am doing something today that few will have the opportunity to do. Of course I know that she will see others later today but as I approach her building I put that from my mind and focus on managing my fear.
I press her number on the intercom and for the first time hear her voice – soft, warm but a little guarded perhaps. Moments later her door opens and there stands a young, slim woman demonstrating that the pictures are real – this is the body that I will soon be touching, caressing, penetrating and it is beautiful! She closes the door and for a moment we stand awkwardly – she almost naked, me in my street clothes – she begins to explain where the shower is but then pauses – and says the mask feels strange - then she laughs – in a second my fear is gone and my desire for her is overwhelming. That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure.
She is superbly good at her chosen profession and I feel as though I have known her for years not minutes. The mask is immediately discarded and a lovely face revealed smiling with lips and eyes. This time I have been lucky, so very lucky – pictures, written and spoken words can be faked but spontaneous laughter is always real – and trumps fear every time!
An old man called Mike remembers sex in London before the internet, rants about the hypocrisy of today's society and shares some links to the best companions around today......