When I started travelling to Europe it was like I became the star of my own porn movie

September 24, 2016 § Leave a comment

When I started travelling to Europe, it was like I became the star of my own porn movie. The Esmeraldas did so much more than their Soho counterparts for the same price, were so much more voluptuous and beautiful, and they f–ked you like they were your girlfriend, instead of lying there coldly, and mechanically like a Soho girl would. And the bedrooms were amazing, up several flights of stairs, then these dark black James Prydian (almost Gormenghastian) bedrooms lit by one low red lamp, massive four poster bed with roof on it. The best sex of my life was in the Berlin bedrooms above Mon Cheri with Yulia, Riccarda, Diana. Honourable mentions too, to Olga & Alla in Berlin, Maria in Vienna, Emily in Munich. To go with an Esmeralda and to have her kissing you and f–king you as passionately as a girlfriend was a mindblowing experience, after the scraggly girls of Soho, who won’t even let you kiss without extra money and some won’t even take their bras off! Disgusting! It meant I returned from Europe feeling a foot taller, so relaxed, on a cloud of pleasure, and gradually my morbid shyness that had crippled me for so long began to dissipate. Life in London became just a waiting room until I could get back to Europe again. It is a great truth that the strip clubs taught us how to live. Europe truly was a wonderland to me. Then, however, after a magical couple of years, when I seemed to go a little bit further than before on every visit, things started to get worse, the girls started to become less attractive, the Dutch Elm Disease of Eros (aka the internet) that had laid waste to the red light scene in Soho had affected Europe just the same, and increasingly I craved something real. This was when I stepped through the Looking Glass, first a little bit with my sumptuous Siberian Cleopatra Olga, then tiny little thing —–. Once through the looking glass, I looked back at those Golden Age years of freedom and sensual abandon with a yearning nostalgia, and tried to recapture it, with almost negligible success. But in the belief that all is cyclical I have not given up hope that the pleasures can be recaptured.
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You are currently reading When I started travelling to Europe it was like I became the star of my own porn movie at Casanova (Lost Wanderings) 2006-2007.

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