Those who knew me when I was young know that I was a romantic and also very infatuated. He believed in that of the better half and he believed he found it in each of the girls with whom he established some kind of friendship. With any of them I saw myself sharing every day of my life. I could make a long list right now with the names of all my platonic loves, but I'm going to save you. And, in short, all those girls I fell in love with were simply that: platonic loves. With some I didn't even get to declare myself. I lacked courage. Of others, I only got no for an answer and the typical and screwed up "I love you as a friend but nothing more", which is the mild way of saying "I wouldn't fuck with you even sick of wine. But everything comes. From time to time even the clumsiest ones make a target playing darts and mine was called Elena.
Elena didn't tell me no. On the contrary, she joyfully indulged in sex, thus preventing my virginity from being prolonged for a time that I began to believe would be endless. We had a courtship like so many couples. At first we would fuck anywhere: in a room for hours, on the sofa at his parents' house, in the car, in the middle of the field, on the beach, in a dressing room in El Corte Inglés ... even in a bathroom. a mall we got to fuck. We looked like two possessed. I was driven crazy by Elena, especially her tits. Better said: her nipples. Because Elena's boobs, all said, weren't big, but her nipples were a scandal. I think there are diamonds less hard than those two purple cherries that crowned Elena's tits. Few things made me feel better than feeling them between my lips. And she, I'm not saying it to show off but because she was like that, she went crazy with pleasure when I licked and nibbled them.
Later, like all couples, we felt that little by little that passion subsided. By then we were already married and, honestly, I felt like the happiest man in the world. So happy that, for not needing, he did not need more than to go from home to work and from work to home. That already filled me up. He gave up meeting friends, drinking with colleagues and, above all, having the chance to meet other women.
Elena told me that this was not good, that it was not good, that the relationship had to be oxygenated. And it is that she had not given up neither to meet friends, nor to go out for drinks with the companions of the law firm where she worked nor, of course, to meet other men. Among those men was Juan. Juan, who had nothing particularly remarkable (at least in sight), ended up becoming her second husband. That, of course, after our stormy divorce process ended.
The advantages of fucking whores
I didn't fit in well with Elena leaving me. I didn't even see it coming. I lived happily, submerged in my emotional bubble, and I didn't even listen to the signals that she was sending me. That's why, when we parted ways, I sank into a horse depression that I only started to emerge from when Jaime, a lifelong friend, insisted on rescuing me. He pulled me out of an almost Carthusian confinement. He brought me back to the frenzy of bars and public life. He kept me company when everything seemed to fall apart. He made me see that the world did not end with Elena, that there was a whole universe of women who were beyond the aphrodisiac spell of their hard nipples and that many of those women were waiting for me to get close to them to, at least, enjoy a little bit of life
In that specific aspect of the rescue operation that my friend Jaime had designed for me, I did not entirely agree. No woman was going to play with my feelings again, I told him. That was my position and I wasn't going to move from it.
- And who talks about feelings? - he told me-. I'm talking about fucking. More specifically: I'm talking about fucking with sex workers.
It was difficult for me to understand at first (or I didn't want to) that Jaime was talking to me about going whores .
- Come on, man, Jaime. Whores ... That's very cold.
- Don't you miss fucking?
I was going to say yes, that I missed fucking, but fucking Elena. If I didn't tell him it was out of modesty and also, a bit, because it wasn't entirely true. Without going any further, not two days ago I had peeled it off, dreaming of the ass of the second's neighbor, a young girl who went jogging every day and who had curves that certainly took my breath away.
Spring was just around the corner and my body felt it. My cock wanted to go and, what the hell, Jaime's arguments when it came to defending sex with lumis were devastating.
- How many times does a normal couple fuck a month with years of marriage behind their backs? How much do you pay per month of mortgage? How much does it cost to hire the services of a good whore? Isn't it better to change lovers every two or three than to fuck over and over again with the same girl? Forget romanticism and go practical. The whores do not control your schedule or make you go shopping or force you to change the decoration of the apartment every two by three or give you the tabar with their worries or tell you today no, honey, I'm tired. Whores comply. Always. And they always leave your balls really empty.
Listening to those arguments, it was hard not to think that the time had come to put aside my romantic stupidity. And that's what I did. Jaime, who revealed himself to me as an experienced hooker, recommended an online directory to me. "In it", he told me, "you can find some of the best luxury prostitutes in Barcelona. Surely you will find someone who reminds you of Elena, even vaguely, but my advice is to look for something different, a type of woman. that deep down you have always been attracted to and with whom you would like to have a good fuck ".
My first experience with a whore
So I did it. I visited GirlsBCN, the best escort website in Barcelona that my friend Jaime recommended to me and I felt the vertigo of indecision. They were all good. In fact, I jerked off a couple of times due to the testosterone rush I experienced when I saw the irresistible bodies of those lumis. They were of all types: tall, short, brown, blonde, curvy, spiky, Latin, Brazilian, Russian Spanish ... And oriental. There were also oriental ones. One of them, Kyoto, had little breasts crowned by two nipples that reminded me painfully and, at the same time, joyfully, those of Elena. And it was to her, skipping Jaime's advice, that I called to have my first experience with a whore .
Kyoto did not make departures and charged 150 euros per hour. He sucked on her without a condom and let them come on her face. With an extra 50, he let himself be fucked in the ass. She received her clients in what she defined in her ad as a central, discreet and very cozy apartment. It certainly was. Minimalist but comfortable. In it I felt very comfortable from minute zero.
Of course, Kyoto's style and sensuality had a lot to do with it. From a Japanese mother and a European father, Kyoto had the irresistible appeal that many mixed race people have. Delicate and friendly, she quickly lost the shame and nerves of a first-time date with a whore. Fucking Elena had been one thing. Fucking a sex worker like Kyoto would surely be something very different. And that, I am not going to deny it, it imposed on me.
Come on, Kyoto told me. Let's go to the shower for a little while to get to know each other little by little.
He was gently undressing me, without haste, while he left the odd kiss on my lips. The kisses, at first, were shy, just a touch of her lips. Little by little, however, they gained in intensity. At some point, when we were completely naked, our tongues locked in a kind of struggle that contrasted with the delicacy with which Kyoto's hands, already under the shower jet, were running over my body. He gently stroked my chest, did the same with my buttocks as he pressed his belly against mine, and finally stroked my balls and my cock, which became rock hard.
Slowly, with a towel that gave off a soft scent of roses, Kyoto dried every inch of my body. Once completely dry, he took me by the hand and, after giving me a light kiss on the lips, led me to bed. She lay on top of her and let me caress and kiss her. My lips, drawn as by a magnet, were dedicated to kissing her breasts. My hungry tongue licked her nipples, which hardened as Elena's used to. The memory acted negatively on me. I felt my cock deflate. Perhaps Jaime was right when he told me that he should have hired the services of a prostitute who did not look like Elena.
Kyoto, wise and intuitive, quickly sensed that something was wrong. And like a great professional of pleasure, she acted. He abandoned the passive attitude of the woman who allows herself to be caressed and went on the attack. It was now his lips that lingered lovingly on my nipples. It was now his teeth that nibbled on it. It was his tongue that played with my belly button. When it reached my cock, I had my erection back. When he slowly put it in his mouth, I knew he was starting what was undoubtedly going to be one of the best blowjobs I had ever enjoyed in my life.
The rhythm of Kyoto when I sucked it was just the rhythm necessary to excite me without precipitating the orgasm. It could have been like this for three hours straight. That young-looking whore with a gluttonous tongue knew when to stop so she wouldn't fill her mouth with cum. I was grateful for those stops that prevented me from coming not only for the pleasure that that superb blowjob was giving me, but also because those pauses allowed me to save strength to be able to complete what, since I had seen Kyoto naked in the shower, had become my main objective on that date: to fuck her in the ass.
What did I care about 50 euros more? He had never practiced Greek with Elena. We had never even considered it, but now, in the company of that luxury oriental whore from Barcelona, I realized to what extent I wanted to fuck a woman in the broom. I told Kyoto and she, as if she had been waiting for him ("how can you enjoy my ass with that cock inside!"), She extended a bottle of lubricant towards me.
- Can I eat it first? - asked.
- Of course. It's all yours.
And, getting down on all fours, he offered me his ass for me to lick. I liked feeling how that little hole quivered when my tongue caressed it. With each one of those shudders he seemed to tell me: here I am, waiting for your cock, waiting for you to fuck me well.
After licking it for a bit and relaxing it by caressing it with one of my fingers, I took some lubricant and distributed it well distributed by her asshole. After putting on a condom, I took Kyoto by the hips and slowly butt-fucked her. The pleasure I felt when noticing how my cock was entering her ass is indescribable. I lasted a short time inside that wonderful Asian ass, we are not going to be fooled. Hyperaroused as he was by the superb blowjob that Kyoto had given me, it took a few shoves between his buttocks to feel my balls contract and my cock emptied all his slurry into the condom.
I gasped, on my back, lying on the bed. Kyoto, smiling, gently caressed my chest and placed, again, a soft kiss on my lips. His sensuality, without a doubt, was overflowing. And his kindness too.
"If you wish," he said, "you can shower again."
I did it. I appreciated that shower. Not only did the sweat of intercourse go with her. The last traces of my romantic stupidity were also leaving. Loving desperately was fine, but fucking a sex worker was, without a doubt, much better. And it was less risky sentimentally speaking. Since that day I fucked Kyoto, there are many whores I have slept with. Each one with its own characteristics and its own charms. Each one with her virtues as lovers. Involved, ardent, affectionate, vicious ... each and every one of them has given me what I asked for and charged me for it. No kinks. No deception. Without giving option to false hopes. I have enjoyed all of them and I hope to continue enjoying them as long as my cock has the energy to get hard. I will not say no to love if it ever comes. But there is no rush either.
