I Was A Girl Who Had Gone To A Prostitute

If you've ever read The House of God by Samuel Shem--considered by many to be the definitive novel on the medical intern experience--there's a recurrent theme of the stress, long hours, emotional disconnectedness as causing a psychosexual regression in its main characters, the doctors. They play basketball, joke around and fuck like adolescent boys. Some retreat into asexuality. Many take their stresses out on their sexual mates and relationships, and each other.

Last year was my intern year. Believe me, the conditions have improved since that time but the medical profession's (in)ability to deal with their emotions remains similar. Myself included.

Stressed out of my brain about the heavily parental role we play when we look after our charges, many of whom are very sick and die, bullying from registrars you can't fight, the sexual tensions rife amongst lonely doctors stuck temporarily hours from home, I found myself sleeping with a teddy bear every night for the first time since I was eight. That coupled with some hometown disasters with an ex-girlfriend and a male ex-fuckbuddy of mine just made my sex drive shrivel into nothing while I found myself getting steadily more and more agitated.

I'm an unfortunate person in a way. Unlike (seemingly) most women I go a bit nuts if I don't have sex for a very extended period of time. Particularly if I don't have sex with another girl for longer than a year. I guess it eats into my self-esteem. There's a creative tension/starvation thing at work there and often I find myself snapping and exploding at people while being infatuated with the first person to show any signs of interest in me. And yes, there were a few rather disastrous situations at work involving other female co-workers/superiors and stressful unconsummated co-crushes. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, but stuck for the first time in a small town for my work week I had no opportunity to meet people outside work, girls especially.

In the midst of this I caught up with one of my good friends back in Melbourne, got very drunk, hit on her good female friend, got rejected, got angry and left. Got incredibly and inconsolably upset and cried for hours. And the only garbled sense that came from my mouth was what I'd iterated a few times--that I needed a girl, I needed one now, I just needed that. So that ex-fuckbuddy in fact said--and this was very good of him--that I should do the needful. I could afford it and he'd drop me off there.

I was too nervous to call to ask brothels in the phone book whether they had any girls who would do other girls so he called for me. First brothel had no one. I was almost shaking with nervousness, heart pumping furiously away. Second one--oh yes, they have someone? Great! We'll be there ASAP.

Walking in, I felt like there was no turning back from this. I thought to myself, I'm 24, young, female, attractive, and here I am needing a prostitute. What am I doing? I've become one of those people.

I stuttered that I wanted to sleep with a girl, and my friend said he was just along for moral support until I found someone I was happy with. The lady at the front just smiled, asked me to take a seat in the waiting room and she'd send girls in and I could choose.

I felt like a total idiot. What was I doing. Why. What was the protocol here? I walked into the lushly velvet waiting room and took a seat on the cushy sofa, sunk my head in my hands.

First girl came in--wild weird hair and too much makeup. Not my type at all. Second one, dark haired tall, medium build, short hair, an improvement but... not quite right. Third one, smiled, made eye contact. Her name was ________. She was tall, very curvaceously fleshy, Rubenesque and maybe not my usual type but she felt right. She held out her hand, I took it nervously, sweaty-palmed. Paid with my credit card with the extra charge for kissing and caressing as well as "servicing."

We went upstairs into a deluxe room complete with huge bed and spa pool. She said we needed to shower first so I clumsily undressed and she slipped her dress off and we got into the shower. She soaped my back and I cleaned myself efficiently. Dried myself off and we went to the bed and began.

It was all so automatic for me, I was so starved of sex. I kissed and touched and stroked and licked, she also did the same and began to pleasure me. When my hand reached down, however, I was surprised and disappointed that she wasn't obviously (physically) aroused, but my need for sex was such that I was more than happy to receive. She gave me a massage when I needed a break, said I felt tense, and we started talking.

She was a single mum of three, in her 30s, recently divorced. Had had a few flings with girls in the past but nothing since she had gotten married. And right now she was making ends meet. She said I seemed really, really nervous--had I done this before? I said no. She asked what brought me here--whether I was out or not. I said that I had been out for awhile, had had a few girlfriends but right now was going through a dry patch and just wasn't coping. I asked her a little bit about her job and she asked me a bit about mine. It was nice to talk and I started to relax a bit.

Afterwards we went to the spa, and more sex there, and she was more turned on, and then back to the bed. I slowly gained confidence. Really enjoyed myself but didn't orgasm. We did a few different things, and a couple of things I hadn't done before which was nice too. I liked that she knew what she was doing and that I could just relax and let myself go and not worry too much.

Time was called but she gave me an extra 15 minutes for free :). I got dressed hurriedly afterwards and my friend met me downstairs.

God damn I walked with a strut all the way home. I was finally sated, my mind clear. I could think again. Felt a bit dirty and a bit weird and a bit changed but... like I'd done the right thing anyway. I'd needed it and it was the right thing to do.

I told a few of my friends later--not many, just a couple of close ones. They were surprised but didn't react with any disgust or pity whatsoever--just interest. Interest especially because I was a girl who had gone to a prostitute, something which I imagine is not that common (but commoner than you would think). Interestingly enough they found my hitting on a married colleague far more reprehensible!

I went back to work almost a new person. Energetic, happy, relaxed and myself again, with emotional reserves recharged.

All in all it was a good experience for me and I do not regret it. In the country I live in things are easier also because brothel prostitution is perfectly legal and also much safer and so the attitudes are very different from a lot of places where it is banned. I think that it is a good alternative for when you are having problems getting sex and you don't want the complications of a pick up. I really admire the courage and the professionalism of prostitutes--who must have a potentially very difficult time.

I Had Also Done Many Things During Two Deployments I Never Wanted To Do

Where to begin.

I'm a mid-twenty-something, currently in the military. I have a stable girlfriend and several unstable yet available female friends. I am vastly overeducated for my job and am generally a well-respected person. I'm not too shabby in the looks department and am very seldom ridiculed. Generally being gone for a year at a time overseas is a terrible experience. Every time I've gone it's been a miserable series of events that makes suicide seem palatable. One day I decided to visit Toronto with some friends. After a complete failure at the bar scene I decided I could part with some money for some stress release. I had never bothered to resort to prostitution, but I had also done many things during two deployments I never wanted to do. After the concierge at the hotel was appalled by my request for female companionship, I hailed a cab and asked the best place to find a professional. He suggested the intersection of two streets named Church and College respectively. This was very comical to me, but I was eager to begin the adventure. Upon arriving I found a gaggle of women who were wearing what could only be described as whore uniforms. I decided on a young blond who seemed to fit the part. Negotiating the price during the cab ride back to the hotel, we eventually made our way to my room, finding many odd stares from hotel guests and the staff. This part was actually very exciting for some reason. In the room things began very fast, and while thrilling it was obvious she was doing her job, which in a way was more arousing. After a seemingly endless 35 minutes of nervous thrusting, I managed to complete my task, which seemed the most satisfactory part of the evening to her. Pleasantries were exchanged, and I handed over her garish clothing and sent her on her way. After a cigarette and some self soothe saying, I managed to convince myself somewhat that the money was well spent and that I had a "good time." I would possibly seek companionship in this manner again, but honestly it was a frightening act of depravity fueled by a complete loss of morals related to my murder for hire status in the military.

I Was on the Verge of Losing It

I'm 28, a moderately successful and over-educated white guy and I've been seeing prostitutes for about 2 years now.

It started after a really horrible break-up, a death in my family and a job loss all occurred within the same 3 month period. I was dealing with things that were just awful and horrid (wakes, unemployment, depression, relationship dramatics) all the time and I was on the verge of losing it. I did have an inheritance so money wasn't tight at least.

I was on Craigslist one night, bored, lonely and horny. So I wandered to the Erotic Services section. I was pretty put off by most of the ads. I consider myself very liberal and think of the sex industry as generally pretty exploitive and cruel. Seeing all the ads that were clearly put up by very desperate women was anti-arousing really.

Then I saw B's posting. She was a curvy artist who described herself as a 'courtesan'. She posted a Jean-Leon Gerome painting of a reclining Harem girl instead of a face picture. I was curious, called her and booked a session.

She came to my place and was absolutely wonderful. We talked about art, music sex-positive porn, genderfucking, queer theory and BDSM. I've always had kink in my heart but hearing someone so open, so free in expressing it was wonderful. She was an amazing lover and I enjoyed her company as much as the sex. I felt free to experiment, to play and because it was a professional exchange I didn't feel as shy. Not that I was disrespectful of her, but asking your girlfriend to us a strap-on has a lot more nuances to it than asking your 'courtesan'.

I started seeing her once or twice a month and have kept on doing so even though I've been in relationships. I won't lie and say I don't think of it as cheating, it is. I finally stopped when I met a woman who, to be honest, shared a lot of similarities with B. I told B about this and she wished me nothing but happiness. We've spoken a few times since and seen each other socially. It's a bit like work friends after one person has moved to a different job.

B was an eye-opener in a lot of ways. Most of all, she showed me what I really wanted in a partner. My girlfriends before had been very much the type of women I thought my family or friends would approve of. After B I knew I wanted someone who shared not only my kinks but my passions as well. I'm really grateful to her. I've had friends comment on how I've changed and how I've become so much more confident and assured. In no small measure, B is responsible for that.