Do you remember the Berkley Barb? Or its successor, the Spectator? They fell into the classification of underground newspapers. They enjoyed a fairly wide circulation in the San Francisco Bay area in the 1970s and 1980s. The editorial content was largely sexual in nature. There were dozens of very explicit ads for prostitutes. Massage parlors were thinly disguised whorehouses. Bars featured naked cocktail waitresses. A few had couples fucking on a stage. One place had strippers invite men in the audience onstage for sex between porno movies. Often, but not always, the guy the dancer selected to fuck her was her husband or boyfriend. I was chosen a couple times. Swinger party houses ran full-page ads featuring nude photos of busty women. Supposedly the parties were for couples only, but a single man could hire a date to get in. It was a very horny time.
I admit that I answered a lot of the ads when I was a single, selfish twenty-something who didn't care if he ever saw his latest piece of ass again. One night I was sitting in a hot tub at a party house next to a beautiful woman. She was stroking my cock under the water while I groped her tits and pussy. When she became aroused, she suggested she and I go upstairs. Upstairs was where all the fucking took place. I agreed, and we both stood up. My boner was above horizontal. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't get your name."
"It's Bert," I said.
"I'm Virginia," she said. She turned to the man on her right and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, honey." He turned his attention from the blonde he was fondling to Virginia. "This is Bert. Bert, this is my husband George."
He held his hand out to shake mine. "Glad to meet you," he said. I couldn't believe my ears. It was obvious that I was about to fuck his wife, and he was greeting me like a best friend.
"Likewise," I said shaking the proffered hand.
"Bert and I are going upstairs," Virginia said.
"Okay, have fun," George said. "I must warn you. She gets really wild when she is with someone new."
"I'm not going to kill him, just fuck him. Maybe he and his wife can come over some evening for a little two-on-two."
"I'm not married," I said.
"Not a problem," George said. "She loves being the meat in a sandwich."
"Me, too," said the woman George had been fondling. "I'm single too." She appeared to be in her mid-twenties.
"Maybe we should get acquainted," I said.
"I'd like that," she said eyeing my boner. "By the way, I'm April."
I checked out the massage parlor scene. All of the massaging was done by topless masseuses. By the time the massage was over, they were also bottomless. Sex was built into the fees, so no one could say the customer solicited the masseuse for sex. There was no room for price or time negotiation. It was one price fits all.
There were also classified ads for independent masseuses and escorts. That was my favorite category. Pricing was fairly well standardized at a hundred dollars for an hour of straight sex. Other activities, like oral sex, raised the price. It was almost like dealing with a union in that respect. A full night cost three hundred which did include additional services. One particular "date" with an escort stands head and shoulders above all others.
Her real name turned out to be Johanna Hooker. No, she was not a descendant of Fightin' Joe. Calling her beautiful was an understatement. A man could drown in her deep blue eyes. Her high cheek bones gave her a constant smile. Her breasts were perfect 36Cs with no sag from nursing babies. She had the legs of a trained dancer, long, lean, and strong. A flat tummy complemented her hips. My first sight of her proved that heaven does exist.
When I first spoke with her on the telephone, she confirmed that she was an independent provider. There would not be a queue from an agency waiting for her. She would only book another customer after she left me. I could have her for as long or as little as I desired. We decided on an hour with options for additional time. Next we discussed what she should wear. Should it be an everyday housedress? She had a dress with a deep plunging neckline. How about a French maid's outfit that hid very little? She had a devil costume complete with horns and a pointed tail. I chose a bikini that wasn't much more than two band aids and a cork. Underwear obviously didn't need discussion. I advised her to bring something appropriate for a morning departure in case she stayed overnight.
Johanna arrived at my apartment an hour later wearing a trench coat and white pumps and carrying a small duffel bag. "Let me hang up your coat," I said as I closed the door behind her.
My eyes nearly left their sockets when she removed her coat and handed it to me. Instead of a cork, she wore a white g-string that only covered her freshly shaved pussy slit. Pubic shaving wasn't in vogue then, so the sight of her hairlessness was extra exciting. Her bra consisted of two white strips of cloth that clung to her pointy nipples. Tan lines showed that she had dressed like that before. "Do I look okay?" she asked as she did a slow pirouette.
"You look good enough to eat," I said breathlessly.
"I was hoping you would say that. You are definitely overdressed for the occasion."
She was right. I hadn't bothered to change clothes since I had come home from work. I escorted her to the sofa mesmerized by her beauty. "Would you like something to drink? I have wine, beer, scotch, water straight or on the rocks." She smiled as she sat down.
"A beer sounds good. Don't bother to pour it into a glass. I'll drink it from the bottle." I got two bottles from the refrigerator and brought them to the sofa. As I was setting one on the coffee table, she took the other one from my hand and twisted the cap off. I had to use my shirt tail to open mine. She took a long draught and sighed. "That tastes so good." She looked at the label. "I'm going to have to change brands. Tell me something. Do you shave yourself?"
I ran my hand over my chin. "I suppose it would be more comfortable for you if I got rid of this stubble."
"That would be very sweet of you, but I meant like I do." She lowered her gaze to her pussy for a second.
