Poll: Popping your commercial cherry

[billyS]

My first time - Part II
August 1981. After being home from school for the summer I was going crazy. I had attended a school where the girls out numbered the boys 5 to 2. That combined with a then legal drinking age of 18 and no threat of Herpes or AIDS made getting laid very easy. Also I had wrecked my car and my parents were hesitant to lend me theirs so dating was hard. I finally decided why not just get a hooker? One Friday night I headed into the city by bus and subway. I walked up and down 8th and 7th ave in the area of 42 hoping to get solicited. No luck. On my final pass down 42, just off 6th as I was passing Les Girls a shill caught my ear. "Girls upstairs" he said. I turned on a dime. I later noticed the place advertised as Topless shoe shines . I ran up the stairs and was greeted by a cute blonde. She pointed to about 10 girls and told me to pick one. I asked if she was available and she said yeah. Once in the room I discovered I only had enough for a blow job. She started covering me and I asked her if that was needed and she explained how it protected both of us. She out on some music and stared sucking. I think I was supposed to cum at the climax of the song and she seemed annoyed that I didn't and that she had to keep on sucking. she said if I didn't cum soon I'd have to pay extra. Luckily I shot my wad right after that. I told her I'd come back with more money next time and fuck her and she just gave me a look like she didn't really give a fuck. So it was both my first time I came with a hooker and my first experience with a hardend hooker.

 

[billyS]

My first time - Part III
August 1981 After telling of my experience to a friend who I knew also indulged in the 'Hobby' (I haven't seen him in 15 years, but I suspect he might be a UG member since he turned me onto Screw magazine and the place above the Great Bear on Queens Blvd.) He told me of another place directly across the street above Tads Steak House. So the next week I went back and tried this place. You went up a flight of stairs and they buzzed you in. You paid a small sum for a ticket and then you handed it to one of the girls seated on folding chairs. I pick a cute dark black girl. She told me we were going to have fun. I think I paid $75 for a half and half. (shit, 22 years later I can get a half and half at CA for $70). The thing that I remember was that as I entered her I felt her pussy was very hot. It was both the first time I ever had sex with a hooker and the first time I had sex with a black girl.

 

[Cat_Ballou]

I guess you'll always remember the summer of '81, huh? Thanks for the stories, very interesting. (Bummer about that first time in May...)

 

[billyS]

Note to Slinky: I cut and pasted that from another thread and did not notice the offendeing reference till after the three minutes were up.

 

[billyS]

Originally posted by Cat_Ballou
I guess you'll always remember the summer of '81, huh? Thanks for the stories, very interesting. (Bummer about that first time in May...)

I chalk it up as a learning experience.

 

[Wwanderer]

Re: ??????

Originally posted by Dondee
How can that be? How can anyone be "exactly" 61 or 18 or 22?
Time clicks on every second...no it clicks on without any desernable increment.....so tell me....

Caution - deep water lies in this direction.

-Ww

 

[Wwanderer]

A surprising answer?!

I would not have guessed that two thirds (of the 40 who have responded so far) of us started before age 30. Isn't this contrary to the stereotype or conventional wisdom that the typical hobbyist is a bored or sexually frustrated married guy, in his late 30s or probably beyond and thus well past the prime of his own attractiveness.

Of course, the above might still describe the typical hobbyist...just not the typical first time hobbyist. It appears that a lot of us started a lot earlier...out of curiosity and acute horniness more than anything else. Me too. I was 24 or so the first time.

-Ww

 

[Cat_Ballou]

Re: A surprising answer?!

Originally posted by Wwanderer
I would not have guessed that two thirds (of the 40 who have responded so far) of us started before age 30. Isn't this contrary to the stereotype or conventional wisdom that the typical hobbyist is a bored or sexually frustrated married guy, in his late 30s or probably beyond and thus well past the prime of his own attractiveness.

-Ww

Italics mine, obviously... Ww, I'm shocked! Such a narrow view of masculine pulchritude, indeed, ;-) ...

 

[Slinky Bender]

Re: A surprising answer?!

Originally posted by Wwanderer
in his late 30s or probably beyond and thus well past the prime of his own attractiveness.

Speak for yourself, buster.

 

[Wwanderer]

Re: Re: A surprising answer?!

Originally posted by slinkybender
Speak for yourself, buster.

I am...but no regrets here.

-Ww

 

[Cat_Ballou]

FWIIW...

I wouldn't kick either one of you out of bed, ;-) ...

 

[pjorourke]

Re: FWIIW...

Originally posted by Cat_Ballou
I wouldn't kick either one of you out of bed, ;-) ...

Even if they were eating crackers?

 

[Cat_Ballou]

Re: Re: FWIIW...

Originally posted by pjorourke
Even if they were eating crackers?

What kind of wrath would descend on my head if I were to say, "It depends, what's her name?"

Crackers are fine, I've got a Dustbuster...

 

[Cat_Ballou]

I just noticed that one person selected "I used my Social Security check to pay for my first time." How cool is that! Of course, they do say that a willingness to try new things will help keep you young...

 

[BoyWonder]

Hey Cat....how about your first time...........??

 

[Cat_Ballou]

First time ever, or first time as a provider?

 

[moneyshotsnj]

Originally posted by Cat_Ballou
First time ever, or first time as a provider?

Oh boy...how about both!

 

[Cat_Ballou]

Originally posted by moneyshotsnj
Oh boy...how about both!

Oh my, such enthusiasm, ROFL!

Alright, I'll tell my tale(s) of tail, but first I have to bundle up and head out into Great White Day outside for provisions. Then I'll cozy up to the keyboard, ;-) ...

 

[Thorn]

OK, but only because you asked... Part 1

It was the mid-70's and a male 16 year old high school virgin was considered an oddity by his peers in those days. No one was preaching abstinence in the public schools. There was no AIDS. Hell, we didn't even know from herpes back then.

So when I admited to my "crew" that, while I had dated plenty enough, I was still a virgin I got some very strange looks. [Though, in hindsight, most of them were probably full of shit and hadn't gone much past 2nd base themselves]. I was sort of the defacto leader of my berserk bunch of misfits so I figure they must have thought that my hugh social gaff reflected poorly on them, given what they were to do about it.

Like any group of nefarious Newark wanna be hell hounds we fancied Times Square to be a grand place to hang out and we'd pop on "The Tubes" [what we in the neighborhood called "The Path" ] and run over to 34th St and walk up.

One particularly blustery fall day, not several months removed from my 16th birthday and me looking all of 20 something years old [which was why I was the leader of my rag tag outfit. I looked old enough to purchase the beer, the tickes to "M" rated movies, etc... when we weren't sneaking in the back door of the theatre, that is], my friends and I were wandering around 8th Ave and 42nd St. We'd just been kicked out of "Show World" because, while I could pass, several of my friends could not.

Eighth Ave back in the mid-70's isn't like it is today. Its not even like it was 10 years ago. Back then Eighth Ave was the notorious "Minnesota Strip". I'm caught up in watching the people pass by. Checking the faces, places and attitudes. Even then I was a student of the human dynamic. I loved being on the fringe of things, watching as everything unfolded before me like some kind of passion play. Occassionally jumping into the game, but usually enjoying my front row seats on the world, that was me. I come back to reality and noticed my friends aren't near me at the moment. They are huddled off a few yards up 8th Ave from me, whispering among themselves. I immediately get a bad feeling about it, sensing in my gut this can't be anything good.

 

[Thorn]

Because you asked... Part 2

I walk over, into their midst, and have it announced to me that my time had come. It seems a collection had been taken up among them and a whole twenty dollars collected. I was to loose my cherrry, both commerically and literally, that very day or be cast down. Even then the people I ran with were slightly twisted [looking in the direction of several of the people I associate with today]. I knew, I mean I knew, there wasn't going to be any good way out of this. I hem and hawed, I suggested alternatives, but all it did was postpone the inevitable. They were not having it any other way then that I was going to loose my cherry, right there and then.

Believe it or not, and don't laugh, I had harbored some romantic notions about it being someone I had a personal yen for... not waiting for wedding bells mind you, but some girl that would be "The Memory" I'd carry of my first time into my old age. This was, truly, not what I had in mind.

Seems my "friends" weren't finished yet though. Not ONLY was I to loose my proverbial male maidenhead to a working girl, they had actually gone to the trouble of picking someone out for me. The wonderful lads that they were.

Now, 8th Ave was full of girls my own age selling their wares to provide the necessities of life [those being, at the time, a walk from a severe ass kicking by some low life male leech making his money on th back of any mumber of teenage run-aways from the mid-west, hench the name "Minnesota Strip", for all the blond, blue-eyed, runaways walking up and down saying "Wanna Date"], all ideally more suited for a "man" of my tender years. But no, my friends pick a woman that was a caricature of every street walking stereotype ever written in the pages of bad pulp fiction. The make-up, the walk, the talk, the frizzy hair, the bad skin. The pinch the cheek of the kid she's sized up as a virgin not two seconds after meeting him, and about one minute after my friends have pushed me in her general direction. The one who announces loud enough for the entire corner to hear that, "Its not going to be so bad "Kid". Who knows, you might even like it.". [If I live to be eighty I'll still hear those words. Though they no long make me cringe anymore.]

There is a short walk up 8th to a seedy little short stay that charged in 30 minute incriments [I kid you not]. Literally a small room, a sink, and a sort of a kitchen counter type thing nailed into the wall with a mattress pad on it. Plush accomidations, most certainly. I'm mumbling to myself. She's all shits and giggles about this and I am not sure I appreciate her sense of humor about the situation. There is some odd, certainly something resembling sex, action taking place but I am failing miserably. The cigerette breath, up close and personal, the clown make-up and the platfom sandles, that though naked, she is still wearing, the surroundings, are all conspiring to make my outty an inny. She works at it, and works at it some more, but I am going nowhere fast.

At first she seems rather annoyed. Then something comes over her and her sentiment changes. She tells me, while she is getting dressed and I am sure meaning to be good natured about the whole thing, to "see what I can do for myself and to call her if its about to happen and she'll come over and 'catch it'".

Good intentioned or not, this kills any feeling I had left in my johnson and I get up and start dressing myself. She's all shits and giggles again, and I know its at my expense. I can hear the thoughts in her head about young boys. She walks with me back to the group, still waiting on the corner of 8th Ave and 42nd St. I am dreading this, and I do mean dreading.

There and then, as we walked up to my gawking crew of Newark rabble, she breaks out the oldest cliche' known to mankind. She becomes "The Hooker with a Heart of Gold". She takes my arm and leads me up to the group, goes on tip toe to give me a big kiss on the cheek, and announces loud enough for everyone within the general vicinity to hear what a man I was and that she'd gladly have sex with someone like me any day of the week. Hell' she might even be tempted to give it away to someone like me.

I'm a bit dazed, let along confused, and she gives me a pat on the rump and heads south down 8th in her red platform shoes, blue micro mini, and her fake rabbit fur jacket, frizzy hair flying in the afternoon breeze, as my friends close in around me, a new respect in their eyes, hounding me for the details...