I guess at one time or other, some of you guys out there will have been with a prostitute. Perhaps your wife knew, perhaps she didn't. Perhaps you weren't married and just looking for sex without any attachments. Maybe you went by yourself, maybe in a pair or even a group. Perhaps you cared who she was, more probably you didn't. Did you look at her face while you thrust into her body, or did you take her from behind? - The reason I ask is that the prostitute could have been my wife or, if it were a few years ago, even my mother.
Yes, that's right, my mother was a hooker most of her life. She worked in a whore house (or as we used to call them in those days - a house of ill repute!) in the red light district of a large city. She had me when she was only seventeen and we lived in the brothel together for many years.
As for my quality of life growing up, well, opinion is usually divided on that subject. There is the obvious, puritanical view that living where I did must have corrupted me from an early age and damaged me for life. On the other hand, of course, as a teenager, I saw more naked women than most guys could dream of! All in all, I was an very happy child. I was well looked after and wanted for very little. It was a life I could safely recommend.
I suppose, by the standards of most young men, my teenage years were a bit weird. I had developed quite an appetite for voyeurism that, while still in its infancy, seemed to be growing stronger every day. I had been watching the other hookers in the house (there were seven in total) getting dressed and undressed for years. None of them gave it a second thought as I would look at them from outside their bedroom door as they changed into or out of their working clothes, but now, the sight of naked breasts, firm round butts and trimmed pussy's was having a much more profound effect on my own body. I should point out at this stage that my feelings were not incestuous. I felt much the same way about my mother as most other young man of my age and had little desire to see her naked. Although my voyeurism at that age was primarily concerned with the naked female form and virtually any female would do, the feelings seldom went as far as including my own mother.
As you can probably imagine, masturbation played quite a large part in my early teenage years - as I'm sure it does with most boys of that age. The difference was that whilst my friends were tugging themselves off to images of Playboy and Hustler, all I had to do was look in the next room for a wonderful view of Donna or perhaps Lori sliding a pair of silk stockings up their wonderfully long, slender legs. I still had to be careful though. As much as the girls were happy to let me look, I got the distinct feeling that if I were caught with my erect cock in my hand while I watched them, there would probably be hell to pay!
Eventually, of course, I was caught. That year I had been getting bolder and bolder with my voyeuristic masturbating. There was a new girl in the house. Her name was Sara and at only eighteen, she was only a few years older than me. Sara was a fantastic looking red head with a stunning body. For days I followed her around like a love-sick puppy just hoping to get a glimpse of thigh or a flash of her breasts, but she always changed with the door shut. I had to resort to more drastic measures. There was a small storage room next to Sara's "working" room and with careful diligence I was able to bore out a small hole in the dividing wall. This meant that I could watch the wonderful creature that had become the sole object of my desires without fear of detection. It also meant that I would be able to jerk off to my hearts content without anyone seeing me.
That night I crept into the storage room and climbed up on an old oil drum to put my eye against my peephole. My cock was already at full attention, but when I saw Sara standing in the centre of her room in just stockings and panties, I thought I would cum on the spot. I swallowed hard and returned my eye to the hole in the wall. She seemed as if she were waiting for something as she stood, bare breasted, with her arms folded under her magnificent tits and glancing at her watch in an impatient manner. A few seconds longer and I saw what she was waiting for. The door opened and a large black man entered. His stride was confident - almost a swagger as he joined Sara in the middle of the room. As his arms enveloped the small girl, I saw his muscles bulge. I felt a tinge of jealousy somewhere deep in my gut that disappeared almost as soon as it had come. I knew that I was completely in love with Sara, but the thought of watching her with this huge man was stronger than any other feelings I had ever experienced. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to make him happy and I wanted them to make me happy! Sara tilted her head upwards in seeming search of a kiss. Her customer moved his head towards hers; his lips parted and moist as they embraced with tongues entwined.
Sara knew her job well. Her hand slipped, almost casually to the mans groin and I watched him react as she gently squeezed the massive looking bulge that strained against his jeans. His groan of acceptance was all the permission that she needed to proceed further, and with a flick of her wrist, his zipper was down and she was groping about in his underwear for his weapon. Sara and my gasps were almost in unison as she withdrew his cock; a process that took a little longer than she was used to due to the fact that it was as hard as rock and absolutely huge! The black muscle stood out in front of him like a twelve inch flag pole and visibly twitched in Sara's small white hand as she stroked it back and forward. I watched intently, pistoning my own, much smaller, cock frantically as I jerked myself off.
Sara's tits swung enticingly in front of her customers view as she continued with the stimulating hand job. His eyes followed the large globes letting his fingers finally grasp the warm flesh and tease the hardening buds. I saw the fingers tighten on Sara's nipples - the skin immediately turning a deep crimson. I became incensed as I thought that this man was hurting my girl - my Sara. These thoughts quickly turned to those of mild confusion, though, as Sara's head went back and her lips opened to emit a low, obviously excited moan. I could hardly believe that she was being treated like a piece of meat and definitely enjoying it! Sara's client also looked a little surprised by her eager acceptance of this fairly brutal treatment, but after hearing her moan he smiled and pinched the skin harder still. Another deep sigh from Sara preceded a slap from her client that made the flesh of her breasts ripple and turn colour.
The man obviously now wanted more from his hooker and began to roughly push her to her knees in front of him. Sara looked so small next to him; her white skin contrasting vividly with his dark flesh, his huge cock swinging menacingly in front of her pretty face. I could feel my balls begin to twitch as I looked on, hoping that I would be treated to my first view of the wonderful Sara giving head. Her customer was still treating her roughly and with little respect. Not prepared to wait for her to begin fellating his massive organ, her gripped the back of her head as if it were a football and forced her onto him. Sara seemed not to be perturbed by this treatment at all, but simply opened her mouth as far as it would stretch and let the man force his cock between her brightly painted lips. As soon as he entered her mouth and I saw the shape of his dick in her cheek, I exploded all over my hand. I looked down to see my seed spill over my fist and splash onto the tiled floor of the store room just as I heard someone opening the door.
