I Was Haunted

I grew up devoutly religious. My religion taught me that sex was sacred and not to be trifled with. Something about the forbidden fruits there that created an obsession. Since losing my faith, I discovered that many others in my faith and other similar authoritarian based faiths also were plagued by this same obsession. I was warned all the time about the evils of pornography and petting and fornication. Tsk. Gasoline to the fires of curiosity.

So I got married... young... I was 23. I brought my fascination of sex into the marriage only to discover that my mate was not well matched to my interests and we floated off into separate corners of the marital galaxies. I found myself dabbling in phone sex a couple of times only to be consumed by hollowness. That marriage ended and I soon remarried to a wonderful woman. We are very much in love. But again, the sex is so so. I was haunted. Was I to be one of those men who ventured through life not knowing what real sex was? The thought tortured me.

The first time I caved into actually soliciting a prostitute, I had already spent several peripheral moments observing the various local streetwalkers, fascinated by their craft and wondering if they really could provide excellent sex.

I drank some beer, became inebriated, and found the courage to call an agency. I could barely speak on the phone. She came over. She noted I was drunk and charged me what seemed to be a high price but I was desperate. I wanted to go down on her and her do the same to me. She apparently did not bring protection. That still baffles me to this day as my subsequent encounters showed that to be a total anomaly. My first experience was unprotected sex with a whore. What a moron I was.

I spent the next month absolutely racked with a fear that I had picked up aids. I went to a local health care provider to get tested. They asked me questions and stupid me answered that yes, I had sex with a whore. Whatever. The nurse just stared at me like I had three heads. I felt so stupid.

The whole experience was a let down and curbed my appetite for a couple of years.

Then the call of the wild came haunting back as those years were filled with the same old so so sex with my wife. I wanted more. She will not consent to anal sex or role playing or anything kinky as she is devoutly religious. The same nagging of "Is this all there will be for me?" came sauntering back into my life. So I visited a whorehouse and was so nervous that I could barely get it up. She massaged me and spoke softly in her broken asian accent. Things finally clicked and I had so so sex with a bonafide whore in a bonafide place of "ill repute". It was thrilling. I was hooked.

I found another asian cutie who was willing to finger my anus. She had long fingernails so I told her to stop. Then I mounted her for what seemed to be 30 minutes and had a powerful climax. She washed me off and I hustled out the door. It was good but not excellent. I returned a month later to find another asian cutie, much older than myself but with a very large cup size. Could this be it? I got nervous. She was very gentle and soft and caring and spread her legs so wide I did not know legs could do that... and her large breasts sent me over the edge in less than a minute. She comforted me and acknowledged that I was just too nervous. Dang. Another let down... but I was still hooked.

But why? The sex wasn't all that great. Probably because I was so nervous every time. I visited again to several houses about 15 different times. Walking up to them found my heart pounding out of my chest. It was thrilling. Each time I wondered if finally I would have the great sex I craved. However, none of my visits have provided me with anything existentially mind bending. Every time I walked out I felt badly. Gotta love that old religious programming, dammit! I even tried sex with a shemale... which turned out to be anticlimatic because I could not get it up. I wanted to suck her dry but could not bring myself to do it. I tried to penetrate her but failed. She tried to penetrate me but could not get hard enough. We parted wondering what was wrong with me. The thought of having sex with a girl who also had an extra bonus for me was so titillating and I was amazed by how beautiful and feminine a pre-op transsexual was. The whole scene absolutely fascinates me. They are actually real people with real breast implants and real desires to have sex with men as a half way female. I was so sure I wanted it because some times I think I have low levels of homosexuality and this appeared to be the perfect transition attempt. I am pretty sure I will try sex with another shemale another time just to be sure it wasn't me. The thought of that excites me... but I am still very attracted to full females.

I believe part of my exploration into having sex with 15-20 prostitutes (I lost count) has to do with freeing myself from the tendrils of religion. Doing an act that I know is so taboo in my former religion empowers me to distance myself from it. That distance is something I need. I can't stand organized religion and it's surefire dogmatism of morality. Who are they to tell me what is moral? There was guilt, but also an accompanying sense of vanquishment and separation from any sort of God that might exist that I found comforting. It was like a moment of guilt followed by a sense of me sticking my middle finger up at the controlling religious roots that held me captive and took such advantage of my first 2 decades of life. I loved that feeling.

I have studied my guilt and found that it lies within the context of not being able to connect with my wife. I blame myself for that. I want great sex and I can't have it. The guilt does not come from any sense of "oh my... I am going to hell now" as I don't believe such a place exists. I just feel badly that there exists no tantalizing sexual connection with my wife.

I'm Only Going To Be Alive Once

I am now in my mid 40s. In my early 20s, a time when I had very little sex experience, I'd gotten married. We were incompatible sexually, never really comfortable together that way. Still, we had a big group of friends and family. Because of that (and just plain fear of change,) we stayed together for several years.

During this time of sexual frustration at home, I became obsessively interested in streetwalkers. At first I would just go to different parts of town where street prostitutes worked and watch them. Then one day I paid for a blowjob and it was on— every chance I got I was out getting street sex. In the car, in alleys, doorways and parking lots, in the hallways of apartment buildings, once in an airshaft of a public housing project, in the cab of an abandoned truck and sometimes in scary hotels.

It was an adventure, and there was a "thrill of the hunt" almost as fun as the sex. I knew all the different parts of town where girls would be, and which types would be there— from the classier ladies to the crack smokers and junkies.

The really rough, druggie girls were fascinating to me because they were exotic and intense. (After all, I grew up on a farm and had just moved to the city a few years earlier.) I did this in such a compulsive gonad-stupor that I only later gained the minimal empathy required to realize what hellish lives many of these women must have had. I realize now what karmic awfulness I was implicating myself in.

Still, I'm glad for many things I got to experience— the kinds of girls and body types I would have never otherwise been able to explore. Beautiful fat girls, black girls, tiny small girls, tall-like-a-basketball player girls, asian girls, classic blond bombshells, punk rockers, beautiful mature-aged ladies, etc.

Prostitution is often thought of as a disease risk, but I never met a street-girl during this time who didn't carry condoms and insist on their use. I never felt endangered, aside from the possibility of getting jumped or carjacked in some of the neighborhoods I went to for sex (which never happened either.)

Some of the situations were completely odd, but totally fun. I remember running into a cute, funny, curly-haired girl on the street once. I would have never guessed that she was turning tricks until she made the first move of propositioning me. We went up to her room and I laid on the bed for a great blowjob. It was only after this that I noticed that she had a ferret on a leash scrambling around in the folds of her little fur coat.

My obsession pretty much ended when my wife and I divorced. I moved on, found a girlfriend with whom I had harmonious sex so excellent it made furtive back alley transactions seem uninteresting. I didn't look back.

Flash forward twenty years. In the wake of a breakup from another relationship and a series of professional failures, I find myself looking in the Erotic Services section, and eventually I meet up with a few girls advertising there.

It's been a very different set of experiences than before. It's much more expensive (though I feel I've gotten what I paid for.) These girls have been very professional, without signs of drug addiction or desperation. There has been a leisurely pace and a general good humor and friendliness that I didn't experience in the old days. Through the internet it's much easier to access different, diverse and exotic types that would be difficult to find otherwise. Finally, it takes a little research and investigation to find the experiences that are right for you, so be careful and use common sense if you're going to do this.

I met with a gorgeous older woman in her fifties. She was incredible. like nothing I ever encountered in streetwalker days. Gentle, cheerful, thoughtful. She seemed to truly enjoy having sex and talking with me. It was so much like a 'girlfriend experience' that it felt completely natural that I go down on her, which, again, she at least appeared to enjoy. She finished me off with a lovely blowjob. Laying around talking with her, I felt really comfortable. Walking up the block, I still could smell her scent on me. I realized that this had not only been the best sex I'd had with a prostitute, but some of the most memorable sex that I've had in my life, period.

I met with a preop transexual, who was stunning, friendly and awe-inspiring in fishnets and boots. I thought I would be freaked out, but she immediately put me at ease. I had a really fun time learning that the 'girl with something extra' experience was not really for me.

I met with a heartbreakingly beautiful latin lady who gave me a fantastic sensual massage ending with a perfectly controlled handjob. We sat naked in her studio for more than an hour after, idly talking. I could have proposed marriage then and there.

Most recently, a pretty blond BBW welcomed me to her place with cheerful jokes. She encouraged me to come multiple times and there was lots of giggly moving around and shifting of positions. Afterward, we swapped life histories.

As a sensualist, prostitution gives me access to experiences which would be otherwise impossible for me. As a human, it temporarily provides for me a kind of companionship I spend long periods without. I'm only going to be alive once, so I really might as well. (The judgement of others is really the only thing stopping me, and that's pretty easy to circumvent and/or disregard.)