Poll: Popping your commercial cherry
- Thread starter Cloud Nine
- Start date
Part I: Penultimate de-virginization, or: How I broke my hymen...
At the tender, post-menses age of twelve, I got thrown off a horse against a tree. Having grown up in a proto-feminist household with the appropriate reading material, and having had a period less than two weeks earlier, I deduced the conclusion, later borne out by the lack of blood and pain during my actual deflowering*, several years later...
_________________
*Might this not be better thought of as, "bringing in to flower"? Certainly one couldn't argue that the bloom was already off the rose on that day...
At the tender, post-menses age of twelve, I got thrown off a horse against a tree. Having grown up in a proto-feminist household with the appropriate reading material, and having had a period less than two weeks earlier, I deduced the conclusion, later borne out by the lack of blood and pain during my actual deflowering*, several years later...
_________________
*Might this not be better thought of as, "bringing in to flower"? Certainly one couldn't argue that the bloom was already off the rose on that day...
Does a woman, after insertion, need to experience orgasm to be considered no longer a virgin?
Dear Cat, I was a 16 year old boy. I am proud of the fact that I only lied by omission, saying a gentleman doesn't tell and leaving their imaginations to fill in the fancy over the fact. Probably much better then I could do myself, telling a straight foward lie.
Much, much later; well over a decade, I told the truth to the two of those still left of that crew that I saw from time to time. We laughed a bit outside. I have to admit that inside, while I was no were near crying, mind you, I wasn't laughing either. I discovered, very early, the fact that this business can cut both ways.
Its much more and much less, all at the same time. I try to stay on the "more" side of the equation.
If that makes any sense.
Dear Cat, I was a 16 year old boy. I am proud of the fact that I only lied by omission, saying a gentleman doesn't tell and leaving their imaginations to fill in the fancy over the fact. Probably much better then I could do myself, telling a straight foward lie.
Much, much later; well over a decade, I told the truth to the two of those still left of that crew that I saw from time to time. We laughed a bit outside. I have to admit that inside, while I was no were near crying, mind you, I wasn't laughing either. I discovered, very early, the fact that this business can cut both ways.
Its much more and much less, all at the same time. I try to stay on the "more" side of the equation.
If that makes any sense.my little tale....
Thorn,
Great story, I enjoyed it immensely. It makes me wonder how many men here lost their virginity with a pro. Between this thread and the other one on the same subject, it appears a great deal of us lost our virginity by way of the working girl. In a sense, it means the world has not changed so much, as this is a legitimate means for losing ones virginity the world over. Please forgive my copying of your style of posting, in my attempt to share my story.
Background-
I was raised amongst males whose testosterone levels were off the chart. In my extended family, men who I grew up knowing as surrogate fathers and uncles routinely cheated on their wives, it was generally known and quietly accepted by the wives. As I grew up I discovered the closeness I saw between certain aunties and uncles, each having spouses but not married to each other, went beyond family relations. Likewise the closeness between certain ‘cousins’ or a boy and girl, each from different immediate families, was based on the sharing of body fluids discovered during puberty. The young male offspring of this extended family grouping deflowered whole neighborhoods of girls as well as close female relatives. I am one of the offspring, but one that did not subscribe to the family values. Unfortunately, and to the chagrin of my male cousins, I am a terrible romantic at heart, who couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of the little girls, even when they would tell one of my cousins they would prefer to ‘do me’ than them. Typically, when the possibility of rejection was near, my resourceful cousins saw this as an opportunity; they were all older and worldlier than me, to negotiate with the girl. Typically, if she, the girl, gave him what he wanted, then he would make sure she got what she wanted. Often, in fact all the time, my cousins would forget their promise after receiving what they wanted. And then I would see the look of sadness in the girls’ face, after being so callously used by one of my older relatives. After my cousins finished, it was always time to leave because we would be conveniently out of time.
Thorn,
Great story, I enjoyed it immensely. It makes me wonder how many men here lost their virginity with a pro. Between this thread and the other one on the same subject, it appears a great deal of us lost our virginity by way of the working girl. In a sense, it means the world has not changed so much, as this is a legitimate means for losing ones virginity the world over. Please forgive my copying of your style of posting, in my attempt to share my story.
Background-
I was raised amongst males whose testosterone levels were off the chart. In my extended family, men who I grew up knowing as surrogate fathers and uncles routinely cheated on their wives, it was generally known and quietly accepted by the wives. As I grew up I discovered the closeness I saw between certain aunties and uncles, each having spouses but not married to each other, went beyond family relations. Likewise the closeness between certain ‘cousins’ or a boy and girl, each from different immediate families, was based on the sharing of body fluids discovered during puberty. The young male offspring of this extended family grouping deflowered whole neighborhoods of girls as well as close female relatives. I am one of the offspring, but one that did not subscribe to the family values. Unfortunately, and to the chagrin of my male cousins, I am a terrible romantic at heart, who couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of the little girls, even when they would tell one of my cousins they would prefer to ‘do me’ than them. Typically, when the possibility of rejection was near, my resourceful cousins saw this as an opportunity; they were all older and worldlier than me, to negotiate with the girl. Typically, if she, the girl, gave him what he wanted, then he would make sure she got what she wanted. Often, in fact all the time, my cousins would forget their promise after receiving what they wanted. And then I would see the look of sadness in the girls’ face, after being so callously used by one of my older relatives. After my cousins finished, it was always time to leave because we would be conveniently out of time.
College Kid-
What does this have to do with the topic at hand? Well, I couldn’t bring myself to do whatever it took to get into girls pants. Furthermore, being a hopeless romantic the girls I liked didn’t like me- thought me too intense, or I was too shy to approach them if they showed any real interest in me. To a great extent I am still the same way. While in my junior year of college I was quite angry at the world. I was tired of being in college preparing to enter a profession that seemed not to offer much in the way of financial freedom. I was tired of all the guys who didn’t attend college, but worked regular jobs like UPS driver, doing better than my impecunious self. Plus, all the desirable girls gravitated to the working guys with money, and not the poor college kid. I also was tired of having a set of values and ideals that kept me from having a good time, since I didn’t know what a good time actually was, I defined it as what everyone else but me was doing. I didn’t drink, smoke nor have sex with anyone or anything. To make a long story short, I was twenty-one, it was around my birthday and I figured by losing my virginity to a sex worker I would be having a good time responsibly. I would be addressing the need for emancipation from my sheltered stodgy life by engaging in illicit sex. I was also proud of my chosen method, for I found it to be a noble path. In effect my thinking was that I would not be using some poor unsuspecting ‘nice’ girl for sex, but a professional woman who selected to provide men with such services.
Searching-
Through my extended family I knew of all the avenues for getting such service. So I started secretly purchasing the Village Voice, Screw, Swinger magazines and driving by hooker hot spots. Thinking back to this period, I laugh to myself, because I ventured to have the perfect commercial sex experience, and like a great sleuth went about researching the matter with a great sense of purpose. So the streets were quickly eliminated- but quickly returned once the cherry was popped, the whorehouses were off next, and finally the single woman providers who all seemed to be old women well past their prime. I finally decided on the Massage Houses, specifically the Asian Massage houses as advertised in the Village Voice. I tried to get into a couple, and the women told me No. One actually was nice enough to tell me that I looked too young, and that I shouldn’t lose my virginity in this manner. I could not believe this; I thought all that was required was money. By the time I found what I wanted I was twenty-two years old, and it was my birthday again. The place I ultimately found was through the back pages of the Village Voice, and was located on Canal Street near 6th or 7th Avenue.
What does this have to do with the topic at hand? Well, I couldn’t bring myself to do whatever it took to get into girls pants. Furthermore, being a hopeless romantic the girls I liked didn’t like me- thought me too intense, or I was too shy to approach them if they showed any real interest in me. To a great extent I am still the same way. While in my junior year of college I was quite angry at the world. I was tired of being in college preparing to enter a profession that seemed not to offer much in the way of financial freedom. I was tired of all the guys who didn’t attend college, but worked regular jobs like UPS driver, doing better than my impecunious self. Plus, all the desirable girls gravitated to the working guys with money, and not the poor college kid. I also was tired of having a set of values and ideals that kept me from having a good time, since I didn’t know what a good time actually was, I defined it as what everyone else but me was doing. I didn’t drink, smoke nor have sex with anyone or anything. To make a long story short, I was twenty-one, it was around my birthday and I figured by losing my virginity to a sex worker I would be having a good time responsibly. I would be addressing the need for emancipation from my sheltered stodgy life by engaging in illicit sex. I was also proud of my chosen method, for I found it to be a noble path. In effect my thinking was that I would not be using some poor unsuspecting ‘nice’ girl for sex, but a professional woman who selected to provide men with such services.
Searching-
Through my extended family I knew of all the avenues for getting such service. So I started secretly purchasing the Village Voice, Screw, Swinger magazines and driving by hooker hot spots. Thinking back to this period, I laugh to myself, because I ventured to have the perfect commercial sex experience, and like a great sleuth went about researching the matter with a great sense of purpose. So the streets were quickly eliminated- but quickly returned once the cherry was popped, the whorehouses were off next, and finally the single woman providers who all seemed to be old women well past their prime. I finally decided on the Massage Houses, specifically the Asian Massage houses as advertised in the Village Voice. I tried to get into a couple, and the women told me No. One actually was nice enough to tell me that I looked too young, and that I shouldn’t lose my virginity in this manner. I could not believe this; I thought all that was required was money. By the time I found what I wanted I was twenty-two years old, and it was my birthday again. The place I ultimately found was through the back pages of the Village Voice, and was located on Canal Street near 6th or 7th Avenue.
The Hostess-
I staked the place out, and saw how other guys were buzzed in. I laughed when I saw a Hasidic guy in full regalia get buzzed up. After seeing him, I got some confidence and I went and tried, and was buzzed up as well. The place was amazing. It was beyond what I imagined. A short portly middle-aged Korean woman let me in, and I could not understand a word she was saying. She sat me down, while speaking incessantly. The place was hopping on a Saturday night, it seemed like another world. It was dimly lit, with shaded lamps providing the majority of illumination. I was transfixed by what I saw around me. The air was stale with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke mixed with cheap perfume. It was like Grand Central station, people were milling about all over the place. Girls were in and out of the sitting room where I was, male customers came and went, and a set of older Korean men sat in a room, visible from where I was seated, drinking and were deep in conversation apparently oblivious to the goings on. The middle-aged lady came by and got my attention, and seemed to ask me what was wrong? It appeared that I was supposed to choose one of the ladies seated across from me on the sofa and I hadn’t. I guess due to my look of confusion she made the choice for me. The next thing I knew I was introduced to my hostess and taken to the back. The back had a locker area, shower room, and sauna.
Becoming Pop-
After experiencing the treatment offered in the back area, I was relishing this adventure, and was ready for whatever would come next. When my hostess got me to the room she requested the fee. I gave her what I was quoted over the phone. When she finished her massage, she requested a tip. I was taken aback, shocked, and very confused. I asked if there would be anything else offered besides the massage. Especially, since she had teased me to the point of near spillage quite a few times during the massage- I was fully aroused. She said yes, but that I needed to tip her first. I explained to her it was my first time, and that I didn’t know the procedure there, and didn’t have the requested tip for complete service. She looked at me incredulously at first, and then I guess finally believed me when I showed her my nearly empty wallet. ATMs were very new at the time, and luckily I had an account that gave me access to money through one. I told her to wait, that I would be right back with some cash. I remember her lowering the tip amount in the hopes I would have the amount on me, I guess I got sympathy points. I also remember the actual feeling of intercourse not being what I expected. I guess I had masturbated for such a long time I compared everything to it, and at first preferred the feeling I got from my hands. Apparently I took longer than she expected, and she left a little wet spot on the bed sheet. I thought she had peed during intercourse. But she looked flushed and quite pleased with the goings on, and told me all was fine that it was not urine. After we were finished she kept asking me if this was truly my first time, and kept saying I did very well. On the way out she even told some of the other girls, according to her she was telling them I was very strong and big in the saddle. In retrospect, I suspect she was telling them I deflowered him and it felt pretty good for a virgin.
I found the experience too expensive to repeat soon afterwards, so I resorted to the streets, before finally getting a girlfriend my senior year. I experienced the best sex of my life till this day with the girlfriend, but she was extremely emotionally unstable. It seems she stigmatized me for life as every woman I have ever been emotionally involved with has been quite off balance. That is why I have come to prefer commercial women; who are quite unbalanced themselves. The irony of this story is, that after trying all types of commercial sex services, I have now settled with the AMP experience as the one that is right for me.
Regards,
Pop
I staked the place out, and saw how other guys were buzzed in. I laughed when I saw a Hasidic guy in full regalia get buzzed up. After seeing him, I got some confidence and I went and tried, and was buzzed up as well. The place was amazing. It was beyond what I imagined. A short portly middle-aged Korean woman let me in, and I could not understand a word she was saying. She sat me down, while speaking incessantly. The place was hopping on a Saturday night, it seemed like another world. It was dimly lit, with shaded lamps providing the majority of illumination. I was transfixed by what I saw around me. The air was stale with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke mixed with cheap perfume. It was like Grand Central station, people were milling about all over the place. Girls were in and out of the sitting room where I was, male customers came and went, and a set of older Korean men sat in a room, visible from where I was seated, drinking and were deep in conversation apparently oblivious to the goings on. The middle-aged lady came by and got my attention, and seemed to ask me what was wrong? It appeared that I was supposed to choose one of the ladies seated across from me on the sofa and I hadn’t. I guess due to my look of confusion she made the choice for me. The next thing I knew I was introduced to my hostess and taken to the back. The back had a locker area, shower room, and sauna.
Becoming Pop-
After experiencing the treatment offered in the back area, I was relishing this adventure, and was ready for whatever would come next. When my hostess got me to the room she requested the fee. I gave her what I was quoted over the phone. When she finished her massage, she requested a tip. I was taken aback, shocked, and very confused. I asked if there would be anything else offered besides the massage. Especially, since she had teased me to the point of near spillage quite a few times during the massage- I was fully aroused. She said yes, but that I needed to tip her first. I explained to her it was my first time, and that I didn’t know the procedure there, and didn’t have the requested tip for complete service. She looked at me incredulously at first, and then I guess finally believed me when I showed her my nearly empty wallet. ATMs were very new at the time, and luckily I had an account that gave me access to money through one. I told her to wait, that I would be right back with some cash. I remember her lowering the tip amount in the hopes I would have the amount on me, I guess I got sympathy points. I also remember the actual feeling of intercourse not being what I expected. I guess I had masturbated for such a long time I compared everything to it, and at first preferred the feeling I got from my hands. Apparently I took longer than she expected, and she left a little wet spot on the bed sheet. I thought she had peed during intercourse. But she looked flushed and quite pleased with the goings on, and told me all was fine that it was not urine. After we were finished she kept asking me if this was truly my first time, and kept saying I did very well. On the way out she even told some of the other girls, according to her she was telling them I was very strong and big in the saddle. In retrospect, I suspect she was telling them I deflowered him and it felt pretty good for a virgin.
I found the experience too expensive to repeat soon afterwards, so I resorted to the streets, before finally getting a girlfriend my senior year. I experienced the best sex of my life till this day with the girlfriend, but she was extremely emotionally unstable. It seems she stigmatized me for life as every woman I have ever been emotionally involved with has been quite off balance. That is why I have come to prefer commercial women; who are quite unbalanced themselves. The irony of this story is, that after trying all types of commercial sex services, I have now settled with the AMP experience as the one that is right for me.
Regards,
Pop
Re: Re: Thorn
UPDATE: Apparently it had been pointed out to me that it was due to a typo in my original post. I had just previously been on jag, commenting on "jagstaff's" not having been around and the appearence that the site had been left totally on auto-pilot.
I must of still had jags staff on the brain because I put it in the message instead of "utopia staff". Everyone, including myself, missed it until C9 was good enough to point it out. [T'anks buddy] and it then appeared I was trying to be "creative" about getting around the no ****** contact rule.
Obviously that was not the case.
All I can say is, what a week I have been having. [no, don't ask]
UPDATE: Apparently it had been pointed out to me that it was due to a typo in my original post. I had just previously been on jag, commenting on "jagstaff's" not having been around and the appearence that the site had been left totally on auto-pilot.
I must of still had jags staff on the brain because I put it in the message instead of "utopia staff". Everyone, including myself, missed it until C9 was good enough to point it out. [T'anks buddy] and it then appeared I was trying to be "creative" about getting around the no ****** contact rule.
Obviously that was not the case.
All I can say is, what a week I have been having. [no, don't ask]