15) Santa

(Who came twice that Xmas)

Sit down and let me tell you a story. It's a Christmas story, which is appropriate. And, appropriately enough, it's called Santa

It was the last week of December, 2005. I was recently divorced and I had no-one to play with as everyone was away, and I was a bit down, to be blunt, and a bit bored

So I went to see Santa, which was nice

I found Santa in the local paper. But not in the Personal Column. She was in the classified section. Under Personal Services

Santa was a 'lovely Asian girl available locally. Call 0208 1234 567'

Santa was a masseur

Well, Santa was also a prostitute

She sounded lovely on the phone

So I went to see her

Now, I must admit, I felt a bit odd in the back of the cab. I'd never been with a prostitute. Indeed, despite the fact that I had worked in Soho for years, in the heart of the red light district, and despite the fact that I had stayed in hotels all round the world, I had never knowingly been approached by anyone offering anything remotely tempting

Which had always struck me as a bit surprising

The sex industry, it seemed to me, was badly managed, badly positioned and badly marketed

Especially the most basic sex industry - having sex with someone for money

Why? Because, frankly, I should have sex with a prostitute before. It would have done me a lot of good on occassion, and probably taught me a few things when I was young, and been better than watching porn or drinking alone in late night bars

But I hadn't. Because it was so badly positioned and marketed that the 'product' had never been 'positioned' in  a way that that was attractive, timely or readily available

And what sort of service industry does not want to attract the high income, professional classes. Especially ones staying ibn hotels, on expenses?

Bad marketing

Whereas Santa was attractive, a very attractive Korean girl as it turned out, well positioned, in  a nice flat in Chiswick, and well marketed, as my presence proved

And before you say, 'A Prostitute, Peter! How tacky' (as I know some of you will) let me tell you something

I had been married for 20 years

But hadn't had any marital sex for the last 12 of those long, long years (her call, don't ask)

And yet, despite working in the totally totty stuffed advertising industry, I hadn't had any affairs, one-nighters or knee tremblers with the many very sexy girl or women I worked with. None

And while all my peers ended up trading in their wives for younger models, or PAs more usually, I hadn't

I'd sat opposite gorgeous girls in Blues and they'd lean forward and look into my eyes and say, coyly.

"So, have you had many affairs, Peter?"

Which means, would you like one with me?

& "So, what sort of girl do you loke, Peter?"

Which means, do you want to fuck me?

& "So, what's you favourite position, Peter?"

Which means how do you want to fuck me?

And I hadn't

Because of my boys

And because I didn't want to mess with these lovely girl's heads

And because I was their boss, usually, so it wasn't fair

Not even when they then deep tongue kissed me at the table (Ali)

Or opened their shirts and asked me to suck their breasts (Wang)

Or just put their hand on my crotch under the tablecloth, and squeezed (Debbie)

Or just shoved their hand down my trousers, and squeezed (Sarah)

Or sat on my lap and said they wanted to fuck me right there, and then, in my office (Flip)

Admirable self restraint wouldn't you agree?

But helped by my libido being buried so deep that it was hard to get it to the suface at short notice, even with the help of a girl's warm hand

But now, divorced, I had my libido back. With 12 years of reserves in stock

Which perhaps explains something about Peterhero

And why I came to Santa's and sat sipping the wine I had thoughtfully provided with a beautiful Korean girl, having a Happy Xmas, and almost a Chinese New Year

And, after a while, there was a short, amicable negotiation and we go to the bedroom

And she unwraps her present to me

And I like what I see

And then she unwraps my present to her

And she like what she sees, a lot

(Editor's note: I have read that Korean men, on average, have the smallest penises in the world. So when a Brit man fucks a Korean girl it is like a Brit girl being fucked by a Jamaican or Congolese man (They vie for the other end of the league table). IE A Very Attractive Prospect. And when a Korean girl sees a well endowed Brit man, which I have been reliably informed I am, well....Lipsmacking it would seem)

So Santa starts doing something very pleasant to me

And then I start to doing something to her which she certainly seems to find very pleasant indeed

And lovely Santa is quite happy to go on long after the allotted time

Exceeding customer expectations, good marketing again

But eventually I say, 'I have to go' (football was starting, you understand)

And Santa says, 'Don't go, Peter, keep fucking me good'

Which did my ego no harm at all

And then, 'And stick your finger up my bumhole, please'

Which was an unexpected Xmas bonus

And Santa came again

Down her warm, wet, chimney

And I came too

We came

Together

Which is always nice

Holding her tight warm body

With her lush black hair on my face

And her tongue in my ear

And her small, perfect breasts on my chest

And my cock moving in her tight little pussy

And vice versa

And with one finger gently moving in her tight little arse

Which was lovely, if new territory for me

And I lost a lot of my sexual frustration

Ans little of my loneliness

Which is a good thing, as is the whole sex industry in some ways (I stress some ways)

A social service really, as Tessa Jowell pointed out

It costs the State less than the NHS

And it's not free at the point of delivery

But one always had the option of going private

And then I do go home, havbing missed the first half (0:0, so worth it) and I was feeling quite a lot better. No a LOT better

For I had given

And I had received

And it is better to give than to receive

And I had given even better than I had got

Which is what Christmas is all about

Isn't it?

Merry Christmas

peterhero x

UPDATE

With thanks to you, the blog will have 4,000 hits well before Xmas

Including readers from Chile to China to Cameroon to Canada

The only thing it lack is Comments

Please, if you read a story

And love it or hate it, please leave a comment

It's lonely in cyberspace and feedback is much appreciated

Especially if it's like ABJ's on Honey...

peterhero x

75) A Tale of Two Sisters




One was the best of girls, one was the worst of girls

But which was the witch?

But first...

We need to talk about...

Spearmint Rhino

(there goes half my readership)

Even Penny, who is VERY broad minded, when I said I was on my way to the Club, said "How Tacky!"

Which I disputed

And "Be careful", which it is hard to dispute, but which is too imprecise to be of much help

Beacause SR can be tacky. But then so can The Slug & Lettuce, The Pitcher & Piano, most of Newcastle on a Saturday night and, indeed, the bars of the best 5 star hotels in the world

It just depends on who meets whom, how one treats the other, and why

My Spearmint Rhino wasn't tacky

Firstly, I didn't go in the evening, or worse, the night

At night 'lads' and 'bankers' are chasing 'slags' and 'slappers' and 'slags' and 'slappers' are chasing 'mugs' and 'punters'

While big bouncers eye them all, suspiciously

It's all cold eyed & bleary eyed & hard skinned & hard cash & as sexy as a hard core porn film (which is not a lot, for me)

But in the afternoon it's different

The men are fewer

The girls are nicer

And the atmosphere is, and the bouncers are, more relaxed

It's soft core

To me, very sexy

And actually, not tacky at all

I've taken several girls to SR in the afternoon

They all found the girls lovely to talk to

And very interesting

The atmosphere comfortable

And, if they so chose, the dances VERY arousing

Indeed, one girl (she was gorgeous, can't remember her name) was so aroused she started dancing with me herself (very impressively I might say) until management intervened


So. Let me explain how SR works (and, let's be clear, until I was 50, and after I had divorced, I had NO idea how it worked)

But now I think I can work it fairly well

You don't have to pay at the door in the daytime

Then you sit at the bar in the cavernous basement and buy a drink (West End prices, not a bottle of over-priced champagne, this is not a clip-joint)

And the girls can't approach you until you've bought a drink

So, take your time

And decide who you want the most, not who wants you the most

So, maybe not the overeager English girls, gathering, rather aggressively, at the end of the bar

Maybe the cool Eastern European girl, haughtily walking past, knowing you'll notice

Or one of the hot Brazilian babes (all Brazilians babes are hot)

Or maybe the stunning Oriental girl (Chinese, Korean? Never Japanese)

Or one of the black beauties of uncertain origin, but unbelievable sexiness

Why not try something a little different?

And find out what the difference is

And remember, in this bar you are really quite likely to pull

Which is nice

Or, even better, if you've been before, you see one of your friends, who is SO pleased to see you they are grinning fit to bust

Like Talulah, the Irish coleen with the Riverdance legs, actress (Hollyoaks for a while) and cheeky delight

Or Kizzee, the English girl from Guilford who is JUST sex on legs

Or, if you're very, very lucky, Mona

Oh Mona

The beauty from Bologna ("Do you know what the girls in Bologna are famous for, Pita?" well, I didn't, but I soon found out) the elegant, sophisticated ex rock chic (can't remember which boy in which band) who can discuss Opera with very little on her STUNNING body and put her hand on your thigh just SO. And smile just soooo sweetly...

And who, incidentally, got  me a birthday card that year

How nice is that?

And how tacky? Not at all. IMHO

And then, after 20 minutes of friendly, funny, flirty conversation, you go off for a dance. Which is not bad with any of them. But which is UNBELIEVABLY sexy with one of your friends

When Mona wiggles her beautiful arse at you

Or Talaulah looks up from between your legs and winks

Or when Kizzee arches her naked back over your thighs while one hand wanders between her own

None of which, at £20, are bad value at all. IMHO

And then you go out and chat and flirt once more

Not a bad way to spend a couple of hours on a wet afternoon

And all for less than a lunch for two in Soho

And I did have lunch with two in Soho

Just lunch

Because they liked me and wanted to chat some more

Kafka, the English student, who wanted to write her story

And Nepal, the Indian student, who told me why Indian girls were different

Because ALWAYS remember this

Working girls are just girls that work

Just girls that work a little harder than most girls

And have better bodies

And are naturally confident in their sensuality

And happy to be paid to be admired

But still just girls

Students, teachers, single mums, actresses

And my point is this. These girls are Lapdancers. So they are supposed to be Bad Girls. And all they want to do is TAKE

But in fact, a lot are Good Girls and they GIVE a lot in return

And I've met a lot of GOOD girls who are in fact BAD and all they want to do is TAKE (let's say, oh, my ex, for example; GOOD mother, BAD wife, or my loving PA Paula,"I'm not that sort of girl Peter", who was exactly that sort of girl, just an amateur one)

Now don't get me wrong

There are GOOD girls who are GOOD, lots of them

And BAD girls who are BAD. A lot of them too

But life is never that simple

So don't prejudge

And don't judge a girl by the amount of cover she wears at work

Or how she earns a crust

So, to my story of two sisters

One was called Viv, and she was a Sugarbabe, my sugarbabe du jour, who I'd met on Sugardaddie.com (which is another story)

We'd met a few times and it had been lovely

And she was lovely

And a model, catwalk and lingerie

Which is nice

And Zim

And all Zim girls are lovely

But this time, when we met for lunch, she was with her sister

Kate

Who wasn't that sort of girl

She had a job, a proper job, somewhere

So by any normal, moral criteria

Viv, the Sugarbabe was a Bad Girl

And Kate, the sister, was a Good Girl

Well, let's see...

We had lunch

And Kate fancied me, a lot

So, she suggested we get a room, the three of us

Which surprised, and rather excited Viv, who was pleased her sister found me SO attractive

So we did

But first Viv had to pick up her son and drop him off for the night with a friend

So that left me in the hotel with Good sister Kate

Who suddenly said I could go to bed with her for £100

Which was something of a surprise, coming from such a good girl

So I said "No"

Which she didn't like at all

And told me so

She said "But you've been generous to Viv"

And I didn't say, yes, but she's 10,000 times more attractive than you

That would be churlish

I said "Sorry, I didn't agree this, not part of the plan"

Which did not go down well

And then I get a text from Viv saying, "bit held up, start without me"

So I thought, fuck it

Offered £50

And went straight to bed with good sister Kate, who started fucking her sister's man with great enthusiasm

GREAT enthusiasm

And in every possible position

But little skill

But, while she was doing that, Viv found out (long story, and this is a short story), that Good sister Kate had stolen £2,000 from Viv's best friend

Therefore betraying Viv's love, loyalty and trust

So Viv came back and confronted Kate, calmly, gently but firmly

And Kate went into the guiltiest hissy fit I've ever seen

(I do have some interesting dates)

And so Good Sister Kate was revealed to be very, very, bad. And on the Take

And Bad Sister Viv showed she was very, very good. And could give and give and give

And even forgive, if Kate had but admitted her guilt

Which she couldn't

Being a witch

So, all I'm saying, and the moral of this little story, is don't be prejudiced

There is good and bad in all of us

And the potential to be good and be loved, in all of us

And in all places

And all boy/girl relationships are about give-and-take, in one way or another

In my day, the nice girl-next-door (Oh Barbara, oh Kate, haven't thought of you for a while) would expect you to buy the drinks, and buy her dinner. And after the first dinner you'd get a kiss. And after the second dinner you'd get "upstairs outside". And after the third she let's you go all the way

So, you 'take' her out, until she 'gives' in

How tacky is that?

And don't get me started on the marriage ceremony...

So I'm not being cynical, or bitter, or mysoginistic

Just making an observation

And a point

In defence of lapdancers, and working girls, and sugarbabes

You can find friendship, fun and honesty in Spearmint Rhino

And love with working girls

And lovely, lovely girls on Sugardaddie.com

Even if some of them do have ugly, ugly sisters

peterhero 2012