Cheap Hookers

Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 10:48:00 +0000

Ok, no updates on this blog in over a year, but I aten't dead.

Anyway, I suddenly thought of something to blog about. I recently re-made contact (after a period of about 2 years) with a delightful lady by the name of Dolly Mopp. She is an escort of whom the term "high class" should definitely be used. Not a young tart, rather an experienced lady who knows how to show a gentleman a good time. I met her at her place in London a couple of years ago and she blew my mind (as well as something else!). If you're ever in the mood to give yourself a treat you could do a million times worse than give the lovely Dolly a call. She is truly special.

Take a look at her blog and you'll see that as well as being extremely attractive, she has a wicked sense of humour and a brain to match. She also has a couple of websites - this one has some great photos and I love the design concept on this one.

There you go - personal recommendation, not much more you can ask for.

I'm still open to suggestions about what this website should be about, feel free to comment away.

Excellent site

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 12:37:00 +0000

Well, it's been a long time since I've updated this blog, and for that I apologise. For those of you who have been faithfully visiting while I've been missing, I thank you. Please let me know via the comments box what sort of thing you'd like to see on this site.

Anyway, in the spirit of giving something back to you I thought I'd let you know my opinion on one of the more popular adult sites out there. There are literally tons of webcamtype sites out there but one I have personal knowledge of is imLive.com. I really rate it - the girls on there are excellent, and it's really easy to use. There's a link below, and there should be one in the sidebar if I've got it working correctly.

Try it and let me know what you think. If you know of any other similar sites which you also think are good, let me know. I don't publicise any old site on here - the only two I like and have mentioned are BeautifulAgony and imLive. Try em and let me know what you think.

Cheers!

Further (mis)adventures of Benjamin T Coam!

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 13:29:00 +0000

You've waited patiently for ages and I am very pleased to finally be able to reward you with even more whore-related (mis)adventures of our favourite correspondent, Mr Benjamin T Coam. I assure you, everything he tells us is real! You have to feel sorry for him, really.

====

Something just always seems to go wrong, doesn't it?

On several occasions in the last couple of years when I've stayed in hotels, my attempts to book a whore fell flat in various conspiratorial ways. This time I thought I'd put in a little bit more forward planning, including numerous backup plans.

And it still went badly wrong.

The previous day was good. Watching a hugely entertaining 3-2 victory kicked off my stay in Southend nicely, and then I had one of the best Indian meals ever, and I'd already sent several enquiries out to various girls on adultwork.co.uk notifying them of my intention to spend a quality two hours of fun early Saturday afternoon.

So, predictably the wireless network in the hotel went down for 12 hours, and the battery on my phone was running low, with no charger to hand, and the whores didn't get back to me, or they had family come over at the last minute and had to cancel, and the hours passed quickly and frustratingly, as I tried in vain to find somebody, having determined that I was fucking well going to fuck well today.

Well, eventually, after several false starts, I finally found a girl, going by the working name of Naomi, able to come down on the train from Grays, for 6:30. Bear in mind that she was about the 5th or 6th one I tried to get hold of, and I had lost several hours of the day already, although trading some fairly amusing txts with several standby whores was quite fun in itself.

Of course, as soon as she was on the train on the way down to my hotel, then my phone started to ring with loads of other immediate offers...

But c'est la vie. Naomi was on her way. A petite 22-year-old South African-born 'girlfriend experience'. TBH, probably anyone would've done, because I had my mind set on it by then.

We spoke a few times as she struggled to find the place, and went to the wrong Premier Travel Inn, and eventually when she arrived, she was probably more nervous than me as I let her into my hotel room with the massive bed, which was unusual, but then I'd just had a couple of surprisingly excellent pints in the adjoining pub.

She's not the sort of person I'd typically find 'attractive', or would even think of in a sexual way. She reminded me of a girl I went to school with - one of the few I never even considered in a remotely sexual way.

Now, it might just be my extreme singleness, but I really do enjoy the 'girlfriend experience' service offered by some whores. With a two hour booking stretching ahead of us, we took things slowly - sat on the bed and cuddled and kissed and chatted, and slowly removed items of clothing.

That bit's fucking great, so it is. The ice was soon broken, as I kept her amused with lighthearted but real-world conversation.

She told me she'd been working for two years. 'Two years too long' she said. 'You're not supposed to say that', I told her, 'you're meant to tell me how it's the greatest job in the world because you get to have fantastic sex with people like me'.

She laughed. She does enjoy the sex, but hates keeping her career a secret from her strict family. She tells them she works in a call centre. she has a two-year-old son (which I would later struggle to believe, if you understand my meaning) with a muslim name, that I've forgotten. She's going to stop whoring in a couple of years.

However, ehe hadn't seen any clients at all that week (might take more than a couple of years at that rate then, hun).

Although the price was very different, her breasts were similar to my last whore - smallish, with very prominent, perky, sticky-out nipples. One bizarre difference is that she had a third nipple(!) although if she hadn't pointed it out, I'd have assumed it to be a normal birthmark, moley freckly thing. It didn't really look like a proper nipple, after all.

We were almost naked, and doing some baby oil massage at this stage. I'm not particularly fussed by getting massaged, but her technique was pretty good and inoffensive, and of course I then got to rub oil into her fairly magnificent arse. There really is something special about oiling up a peachy black girl's arse until it's all shiny, isn't there?

As a slightly quirky ethno-statistical aside, it might be notable that the first two women I ever paid for sex both happened to be black, and then I went more than ten years without having sex with a black girl, until now. Huh.

She found my piercings fascinating, played with them a lot, and claimed she hadn't seen things like that before. I wonder how experienced she is at whoring, and if she should really be competing at this price range.

Usual stuff followed. She played with me, and sucked me off. I actually prefer the touching, and kissing, and limbs interlocking. She picked up on my preferences, and spent a lot of time on these sorts of things. I stroked and kissed most of her hot body, and spent a long time going down on her, and finger-fucking with some favourable results.

We'd been at it for about an hour, I suppose, and just before I was ready to go for the main event, I asked to watch her playing with herself for a bit. She produced a reasonably-sized knobbly vibrator (though nothing compared to some of my toys, obviously) and began to use it on herself, reducing me almost to a spectator.

So I got myself more involved, by touching her more, and then had the masterstroke of giving her a good tongueing while she was working the vibe in and out...

Oh dear.

Now, some girls get wetter than others. Some spurt, and some dribble, but this was just a bit wrong, like a gloopy mess in my face. In my mouth. In my beard.

She pulled away from me suddenly. 'Oh dear, that's a mess...' she said with a tone of distinct alarm. And there was a red-brown stain on the big big bed. Ick.

But it got worse, as in a surreal moment, it dawned on me what had happened. 'I think I've started my period' she said with some uncertainty, and then looked at me in a slightly funny way as she reached for wet wipes. I slowly put my hand to my face. Hmm... that's unfortunate. very messy. Very... menstrual.

It hadn't happened before in her entire whoring career. Wasn't meant to come on for another couple of days, apparently. Still, that's not atypical of my luck in such matters.

To say that killed the passion is a bit of an understatement. We both inspected the bathroom facilities to clean ourselves up. She came back, with an obvious tampon-string emerging from her now off-limits area. I still had the taste in my mouth.

It was awkward thereafter, but she spent the next 40 minutes or so finishing me off - which was always going to take a long time, as I've trained myself in these ways. She was still trying hard, despite what had obviously been an embarassment, and I refused to let her give me back some of my money.

There was less talking now, and the agreeable atmosphere that we had established earlier had given way to a tense embarassment, with a massive stain still very much on the bed.

She brought matters to a satisfactory conclusion, I suppose, and then couldn't really get out of there quickly enough. A learning experience for both of us, I suspect.

I went to the pub for a few beers, and to relate the surreal story of my day to others.

Several pints later, and I still had the taste in my mouth.

BTC

Beautiful Agony

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 16:55:00 +0000

Not sure how well this fits with the general ethos of this site, because it's not "cheap", certainly not in the tacky sense. It's very classy, yet very very erotic.

"Beautiful Agony" is a site where people post videos of themselves having an orgasm. No rudeness though, it's all faces only. Have a look at the sample below.

play windows media

play quicktime

beautifulagony.com

Certainly one of the most intriguing sites I've seen on the web in a long long time!

Benjamin T. Coam's Whore Chronicles - Chapter One

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Tue, 22 Aug 2006 15:16:00 +0000

The following was written by the same author as "Bad Whore Day" - he seems to have a wealth of knowledge about the subject! I'm sure there are further instalments...........

=====

My first incident with a whore was when I was about 16, and walking home through South London after a not very successful party at my friend Tim's house. (What the fuck happened to him? Haven't heard from him for a decade!)

My first proper sexual experience with a girl - at 14 - was hurried, drunken, misfumbled and swiftly interrupted by her saying what a mistake it was, and rapidly leaving the scene of the crime, and left me determined to practise and improve my s3xsk1llz

So, anyway, when this young, chubby, mini-skirted chavette, as we would now call them, walked from the shadows at around 3 AM and asked if I wanted any business, I averted my eyes, and walked swiftly past - a habit that has remained with me ever since, unless I deliberately set out not to refuse.

Thinking about it, the plain chubby brunette approximately 18-year-old was actually physically very similar to the first girlshag, and I regretted the decision almost immediately, although being a kid, I didn't really have whore-cash on me.

A few yards down the road, I thought 'hmm... actually... maybe I could...' so I went to the cashpoint and used my Midland Live! Kiddycash account card, or whatever it was, to withdraw the maximum amount of money I was allowed, and then wandered back in search of the whore.

Of course, I now couldn't find her, but as chance would have it, a car pulled up, and out got another obvious whore, albeit very different - late 20s, slender, black, professional-looking. With the knowledge of hindsight, I'm surprised that she was working the streets, as she was of a less-manky quality than those who usually do.

Being fairly scared'n'shit, I just asked to have a handjob, which cost only £25, and took place on a bench on the common.

She asked me how old I was. Unsure of the law, I said I was 18. She seemed surprised/impressed/annoyed by how long it took her to finish the job, but then in apparent contrast to most teenagers, I spent my wanking hours trying to last as long as possible rather than perfecting the rapid climax.

It's a bit of a blur, but I do remember thinking 'this is so cool' when I eventually spunked on her hand and up her wrist and forearm.

I had been carrying a coca-cola brand coolbag, which had a couple of cans of rubbishcunt beer in it, that I brought back from the party(!?!). After I'd thanked the whore, and she'd walked off back to the road, I pulled up my trousers, and simply sat on the bench like a thirsty vagrant, cracking open a tin of McEwans Export (do they still make that?) to toast my accomplishment, feeling quite self-satisfied for a while.

And that was my first encounter with a whore.

Let The Train Take The Strain

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Fri, 28 Jul 2006 21:36:00 +0000

Time to challenge (or otherwise) an urban myth. I'm sure I've read, or people have told me, about hookers operating on long-distance rail journeys in the UK. Apparently they buy a return ticket in, say, Leeds then hop on the train, hook up with some horny businessman and take him off to the toilets for some "business". Then they return home, having more than recouped their train fare.

Now I've never heard any solid evidence of this happening but the other day I was just such a businessman on a train and I got to thinking about whether or not this phenomenon actually exists. The conditions sound feasible - there were quite a few single businessman on my train, trains these days are smoother and cleaner, toilet cubicles are a bit bigger. So does it happen?

So I'm putting the call out to you, dear readers (if you actually exist). Please leave me some comments:
- have you had an experience with hooker on a train? Did you go "all the way"? Was it good value?
- are you a hooker who turns tricks on trains?

Let's see if we prove or disprove the existence of this phenomenon!

Bad Whore Day

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 10:44:00 +0000

A friend of mine told me this story, which seems to fit well with this site. Maybe I should get the female protagonist to advertise her services here - what do you think?

------------

Anyway, I was walking up Portman Road last night, on my way back from the station, having attended the Stowmarket beer festival. I was planning to pick up some food somewhere, then head home and finish watching the special features on the Inferno DVD.

I heard a voice calling me from behind as I walked. A rough, female, smokers voice trying to be sexy, that was immediately identifiable as one of Ipswich's many entry-level street whores.

Now these 'girls' are pretty manky, really, and I've never before stooped to that level - in the past when I've paid for sexual services I've done so in an organised professional establishment, or arranged to meet directly in response to advertisements. This wasn't my thing, and I knew it.

Where I'd usually quicken my pace, avert my eyes, and possibly respond with a cursory 'no thank you', 'not tonight' or 'I'm gay', I instead stopped to talk to her. Which was a bit out of character.

She liked that my t-shirt said 'bass player' and liked that I played instruments. Apparently she used to be a singer, and lots of people said she sounded like Heather Small out of M-People. She did have a big mouth.

Yep. Rough and manky as expected. But for some reason - and it's not like I'd actually been drinking that much - I found myself agreeing to the transaction, and inviting her to my nearby flat.

FFS, my flat is in a mess, there were various freaky implements strewn about the place (not least various toys of the anal persuasion), and there was visible evidence of self-harming activity on my person, and around my flat.

In a strange dream-like surreality, I found myself leading this working girl home, and agreeing a price, while telling her that I was gay, and might not be able to get it up. Already I knew it wasn't going to work out.

What followed was possibly the least arousing and strangest 'sexual' acts ever.

She got enthusiastic about my piercings, but then its standard call-girl technique to pick up on an aspect of the punter and compliment them on it. What was she meant to say? Nice fat? Nice scars? Nice red socks? (Actually she did say that.)

She had a gold tooth, and soft, small breasts with big pointy nipples. It didn't do a whole lot for me. Not even the nipple-69 thing.

I could not get anything approaching wood for love nor money. She kept talking about her gay dead heroin-overdose brother who apparently looked like Michael Hutchence. 'You'd love my brother', she kept saying, and 'He was gay', and 'I wish he was here, then you'd be alright'.

I'm not even sure she was that experienced as her fingers and mouth didn't exactly flow with years of assuredness. It was workmanlike, desperate, embarrassing for both of us, as she tugged and bobbed, failing completely to get any rise out of me.

Completely detached from the scenario, I felt like I was listening to a porn soundtrack as she said the obligatory 'come on, get it hard for me, yeah, make it hard boy!' - such was the lack of sensation.

Maybe it wasn't the technique, but something in my mind. Who knows. I didn't have the nervous feeling, or the excited feeling, or anything. Nothing. After a while she realised it wasn't going to happen, and wanted out, becoming increasingly desperate to leave as soon as possible to escape the embarrassment.

She told me to visit her at her place. I'd like it better there, she said. My walls were the wrong colour, she said. It would be better if her brother was there, she said. The Feng Shui was bad, and the atmosphere negative, she said. I needed to take better care of the place and myself, she said.

I was keen to show her out, and try to make sense of this strange episode.

She was out of her depth, and had failed in her job. She has problems of her own, I'm sure. An inability to get any repeat business, for a start.

She gave me her number.

I don't think I shall be calling it.

Is this what you expected?

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Wed, 01 Mar 2006 17:07:00 +0000

Is this what you expected this site to be all about? Huh?

I've always been a little intrigued by so-called "tart cards". They seem to be in a somewhat grey area legally, especially given the government's announcement that they're considering making small brothels legal (and that, by implication, single prostitutes working from home currently are legal).

Anyway, this photo was snapped on Tottenham Court Road in London on Friday 24th February.

What's it all about?

noreply@blogger.com (John Fischer) — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 18:25:00 +0000

If by some amazing chance you've found this blog, well done. You might be wondering what it's all about. Well, you're not the only one - I don't know either.

I registered the domain www.cheaphookers.co.uk on a whim, when I noticed no-one else had it. Now I need to decide what to use it for. In the meantime I'm using it to host this blog about deciding what to use it for. Comments from anyone daft enough to read this will definitely form the basis of the usage of the domain.

So get commenting. Or this will be a very short blog.