Lush Detour

Phil was referring to Heroes Square, which was actually strictly off limits to us for a couple of reasons. Firstly, as a security risk, because of its association with EOKA, the Cypriot nationalist organisation of the 1950’s, that ‘fought’ against British rule, leading to Cyprus’s independence in 1962; especially as members of the reborn EOKA-B were known to frequent The Square. Secondly, and probably more relevant, The Square was the heart of the ‘red light district’ of Limassol, famed for its seedy nightlife, drug dealers and sex workers.

There were reputed to be some ‘hot’ cabaret shows to be found (they used to be family shows, but more recently had become ‘adults only’.) Off limits or not, after a brief discussion about the pros and cons, we decided to go for it, finished our drinks and hailed a taxi. When we asked him to take us to a ‘good’ venue in The Square, he was reluctant at first. He knew we were not really allowed there. If he was ‘caught’ by the MPs taking us into a ‘no go area’ he could be blacklisted from operating on the SBA, a huge financial loss to him. But the promise of a ‘very good’ tip convinced him, and it was game on.

As requested, he dropped us at a cabaret bar. I do not recall for certain, but it was probably the, infamous, Kit Kat Club. We paid our cover charge and found an empty table and ordered a round of, expensive, drinks. Instantly, the bar girls descended on us, like flies on shit. We weren’t playing that game just now though, and after much verbal sparring, they eventually gave up on us, leaving us to watch the show in peace.

The acts were ‘okay’. A few vocalists, singing a mix of Greek and popular English language songs. And there were of course the obligatory strippers and topless dancers. To be honest, I don’t know what we’d expected, but they were no more sexual than were the girls in our ‘normal’ strip joint. True, a couple went full nude, which only left us wanting more, but we knew these girls were totally untouchable!

Soon, even the seemingly endless parade of bare tits and fannies got boring, and the drinks were a ripoff, so we decided to get out of there and see what else we could find. We mooched around The Square, passed the famous Rialto Theatre and delved into the side streets, where the working girls operated, unusually yellow lights, showing availability were used here, not red. We were ‘tempted in’ at several addresses, but walked on, finding a pavement bar, where we all ordered a bottle of Keo beer. As we sat drinking them, we were approached by numerous pimps and drug dealers, trying to part us from our money. All were declined, until one wasn’t.

We were approached by a middle aged Cypriot man, who offered to take us to “…very nice, very clean girls.” Max, the third member of the group unexpectedly exclaimed “Fuck it guys. This is what we came here for, isn’t it. To get laid. Who’s in?” Phil and I looked at each other questioningly. I was gobsmacked at the suggestion, but he shrugged his shoulders and nodded to Max, OK.

Remembering my experience with Pat, I was not comfortable with the thought of paying for it again, so remained silent. But when the other two rose to follow the pimp, I was even less comfortable with idea of remaining on my own in that dodgy area, so had little choice but to follow them.

The pimp led us back into the main square, then down another side street, to the door of, what looked like, a private residence. He opened the door and took us down a short hallway, past three or four side doors, into a bare room, with half a dozen plastic chairs, and a coffee table, sporting several overflowing ashtrays. The waiting room? He disappeared back the way we came, stopping at one of the side doors for a quick, rapid-fire conversation in Greek, before exiting the building.

Oh shit! I was in a trap, in a brothel. How was I going to get out of this. I tried to raise my objections with Max and Phil. Offered a few lame excuses. Even tried to claim poverty, only having enough money left to get back to barracks, which backfired at once, as they both stuffed a ‘sub’ in my hands to pay the dues.

Moments later, one of the side doors opened and two women came out, I could not describe them now if my life depended on it. A few pleasantries were exchanged, before they took Max and Phil, who had stood to greet them, by the hand and led them to their individual rooms.

I had found myself left alone after all. But not for long. After a couple more minutes, another door opened, and my ‘Lady’ came to find me. I should, have just paid her off and left, but some unknown force held me there. It was most likely my cock leading the way. She smiled invitingly at me, and the trap was sprung. I was going nowhere right then.

What my pre-conceptions of what a working girl should look like, I am not sure. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, she was not. In fact, she was the very antithesis. She was tiny, barely 5-feet in her bare feet, which she was. Lady had a typical Mediterranean appearance, with an olive-coloured complexion, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and almost black hair, worn loose just below her shoulders. Her trim waist topped womanly hips, on which hung a loose thigh length skirt and from which emerged shapely, but short legs.

But it was above the waist where my eyes were riveted. A plain, short sleeve, button through blouse, tucked into the waistband of the skirt, was struggling to contain her tits. Absolutely huge tits! They bulged over the top of a lacy white bra, forming a valley in which a bloke could die a happy man.

Both the situation and the sight of her breasts had rendered me speechless. No, worse than that, I was absolutely terrified. She spoke to me once, twice. I did not register her words. She sensed my fear and hesitation, smiled and gently took my hand in hers. “It’s okay,” she mewed, “We can do this. We can do this together. It’s not a problem.”

I am not sure of her nationality, but she spoke perfect, if accented English. With a gentle tug, she directed me towards her room. Silently, I allowed her to do so. Again, I do not know what I was expecting, but it was not what I saw. Sure, the room was spartanly furnished, but it looked and smelled clean. A couple of easy chairs stood either side of a small chest of drawers, and against the wall opposite the door the, I guess, obligatory double bed. The bed was tidily made and the bedding looked clean and fresh. If you find yourself about to fuck a prostitute, I can imagine far worse places to find yourself in.

The business side of the event was got out of the way immediately, and my money was spirited away before I realised it had gone. I do not remember the exact size of the ‘tip’, but I do recall it was ridiculously little, considering. That dealt with, the pleasure side of the event started. There was to be no preamble. Time is money I suppose. I was shaking like a leaf when Lady stepped in front of me. She knew I was still very nervous, and as she started to undress me, she whispered soothing words to me. Again, I did not really take in the words, but the sound of her voice was starting to relax me.

In moments, I was naked and feeling quite exposed, with my, by now, rampant cock sticking out in front of me. After draping my clothes over one of the chairs, Lady moved in close to me, placed a hand on my shoulder and with the other, took a grip on my throbbing penis, making me shudder. Working on pure instinct and muscle memory, I lent in towards her, going for a kiss, earning me another sharp rebuke, “No kissing!” A rookie error, and I was suitably chastised, but in compensation, Lady slowly started to rub my cock, working the foreskin back and forth.

After just a few moments of wanking me, Lady jockeyed me towards the bed and told me to lie back and enjoy! She shed her blouse, skirt and knickers. She left the bra on, which disappointed me immensely. She knelt on the bed to my right and again gave my dick a few more strokes with her hand, just to make sure it was still working. No fears there, it was hard and proud, despite my internal turmoil. It knew what it wanted, I though, was still quite conflicted. But my dick won in the end.

Leaning across me, momentarily pressing her boobs firmly onto my groin, Lady retrieved a rubber and a tube of lubricating jelly from the nightstand. I reached for the prophylactic, but she brushed my hand away, opened the foil packet, and proceeded to roll the rubber down the length of my rigid cock. I guessed she wanted to make sure it was properly in place personally, for her own sake. I did not mind though. I have always found it quite stimulating when a woman does that for me. Once it was in place, she squeezed a generous portion of lube onto my rubber clad cock and liberally spread it around. Another wonderful sensation. When happy with her efforts, she lifted one foot, placed it flat and massaged the residue of the jelly over her vulva.

Lady’s semi squatting position spread her outer lips, affording me an uninterrupted view of her labia and vaginal opening, in all its glory. Against the trend of the day, her dark pubic hair was cropped short above her cleft, and ended just above the top of her valley, with the lips below completely shaved. Her pink interior, now liberally smeared with lubricant, shone invitingly, beckoning me in.

I made to sit up, intending for us to change positions. For me to get above her and lay her back on the bed, so I could enter her. Again, Lady blocked my move. Instead, she lifted her right leg across my thighs, straddling me. She shuffled up my body on her knees, until her slippery fanny was aligned with my equally slippery sheathed cock.

There were to be no preliminaries. No foreplay. Just straight to what I had paid for. Reaching a hand down between our lower bodies, Lady grasped my inflamed member, and guided its head to her opening, lodging it firmly just inside her. Then, moving both her hands to my shoulders, and in one fluid movement, she sank down, taking my length (not that it is that long!) into her. After a few exploratory wiggles, to ensure we were properly connected, she paused, just for a few beats of my thumping heart, then she started to fuck me.

I half expected her to go hell for leather, to pound the shit of out me, to make me cum as quickly as possible, to get it over with and get me out. And I was under no illusions that there was going to be any orgasms in that bed that night, other than mine, which did not feel far away at that moment. But credit where credit is due. Instead, Lady started slowly and sensually. Rolling her pelvis back and forth. Pumping me gently in and out of her slick pussy.

After a few moments of this, whether due to the earlier alcohol, my lingering unease of the taboo nature of this act or her skill, I do not know, but the imminent need to cum subsided. Reaching my hands under her outstretched arms, I graspedher upper back for purchase, and started to match her movements with my own, increasing the length and depth of my penetration.

As we rocked in unison, my hands shifted, and I felt her bra strap. Again, acting on impulse, I quickly unfastened the hooks, releasing the tension on the straining material. Lady froze! Oh, fuck! Had I just committed another cardinal sin? Were tits a no-go area too? Had I just ended the liaison with some unknown breach of contract. I waited with bated breath to see what was going to happen next. I do not think she had intended to bare her breasts, but I had unintentionally forced the issue. Perhaps she was again giving me some latitude for being a ‘whorehouse virgin,’ or maybe I was imagining barriers that did not really exist. Without the expected rebuke (I was getting used those by now anyway), Lady sat full upright on my lap and shucked off the bra completely. Her huge tits were now there for my unimpeded viewing pleasure.

They were magnificent. Large, plump and, drooping slightly forward. I raised my hands towards them, but a look from her was enough to tell me ‘No,’ so I would have to forever imagine them to be heavy and pliable to my touch. Oh well!

The tense moment over, I started to rock my hips slowly again, to which lady responded, beginning to ride me from above. We soon got back into a mutual rhythm and gradually upped the pace. Now, with the added vision of those gorgeous breasts, bouncing in time to our thrusts, my sap quickly began to rise again. Lady must have sensed when I was getting close, because she sealed the deal by reaching behind herself, located and started to massage my straining balls with her hand. That was the final straw. Ending months and months of pent-up frustration, I came hard, in a series of gigantic spurts, filling the rubber with my seed. The relief was awesome, and I think I yelled out my satisfaction quite loudly. Job done, Lady disengaged herself from my, still hard but slowly wilting penis, climbed off me, and slid under the rumpled bedsheets to cover her nudity. I needed a few minutes to catch my breath, but when I had done so, I rolled onto my side facing Lady.

She was just laying there, staring at the ceiling in silence. When I moved closer and looked directly down at her, she still avoided eye contact with me. I suddenly realised that my time was over, I was now just outstaying my welcome. Without saying anything, I got off the bed and went to retrieve my clothes. I took some tissues from a box on the top of the drawers, removed and wrapped the used rubber, which went in the bin…empty bin I noted for some strange reason. After cleaning myself up a bit with more tissues, I then dressed ready to leave.

I had no idea what the protocol was for this type of parting. So, as I headed for the door I blurted out how much I had enjoyed the experience, thanked her and wished her a good night.

As the words left my mouth, I realised how lame they sounded, but actually, they raised a bit of a smile from Lady, and a barely audible “Goodbye, good luck.” As I exited back to the waiting area, I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that the whole affair had lasted about 40-minutes. Max and Phil were both already there waiting for me. I felt quite smug that it seemed I had out lasted both of them in bed.

We made our way back into the main square, hoping to find a taxi, but it was by then around 2 or 3 am, and although some places were still open, the footfall had diminished considerably. After waiting around for about twenty minutes or so, we had drawn a blank on the taxi. We decided to head for the seafront, about a 10–15-minute walk, where a few diehard café owners stayed open till morning, to catch the ‘dawn patrollers’ from the nightclubs. Here you are usually also guaranteed getting a cab, which we did.

We rode home in relative silence, buried in our own thoughts. We had all fucked a prostitute that night. And what is more, we all knew each other had done so too. I was certainly a bit embarrassed that they knew that, and I guessed that they were too. As I had after Pat, I reflected on what had happened. I had not set out to go whoring that night, it just happened. I could have stepped away at any point, but I did not. I should have felt bad for letting myself stoop to that level, purely for sex; but fuck it! I had satisfied a growing need for sexual release. Again, I resolved not to go there again. This time I meant it and stuck to it.

I spent a tense couple of weeks, waiting for the itching or sores to appear, but nothing happened. I had got away with it. The pimp had been right when he described the girls as “…very clean.” And as far as I was concerned, Lady at least was also a “Very nice girl…” I should want to forget all about that ‘notch on my bedpost.’ To erase it from my memory for ever. But I never will!