cmk76
17-12-2012, 09:34 AM
Asian Brothels: Taming the Masculine Heart
In the eternal pursuit of his exotic side, PHIL MICHEL took up the most tenderly erotic pastime possible ~ exploring the fragrances of Asian blossoms for hire. This is his delicately-worded report ...
Some years ago now I found myself escaping a marriage that had "gone sexless" for the last five years of it. My confidence was shot, quite simply.
Not only was I depressed, I was also impotent. The wife has done a great job of psychologically castrating me. I understood, in hindsight, that it was because she was afraid of sexuality - afraid of her own sexuality firstly - her fear then projected onto my sexuality which as the more overt form, had to be annihilated.
After finally escaping the abuse and tirades of guilt that this marriage had become, I knew that as a man, then in my mid-30s, I needed to rebuild my character, and to find a way to rediscover and renurture my erotic soul. It's remarkable how when your mojo is absent, you feel invisible - I would walk the streets and realised that no woman ever looked at me. I was the invisible man.
While a bit of a new-ager, I was also realistic enough to know that attending a tantric workshop in Sydney was not what was required for my dire situation. I didn't need to be repressing orgasms to pleasure a woman for hours on end, I just needed to have a series of orgasms in company!
Softly Softly
The first place I decided to try was Kyoto Escorts, 359 Riley St Surry Hills (02) 9211 8244. What I've come to discover is that Surry Hills is one big brothel - there's a red light in nearly every street and most of the bordellos house Asian women - some of them all ages and sizes but certainly Kyoto was a very encouraging place to start. From their line-up I chose a dramatically attractive and friendly girl, Mei, who once we were in the room, after a few gentle questions to satiate my curiosity, revealed she was from countryside Japan, which strangely enough helped me feel very relaxed.
Mei spoke passable English with a nasally tone to her voice which I found endearing. Being completely out of practice at sex I figured the best way to get turned on was to first suck and lick her breasts with the intent of seducing her into allowing me to lick her pussy. Disease-aphobes surely must recoil that I would risk this type of behaviour, but it's one thing I'd always enjoyed above all others and always got me hyper-horny in the past - and after about ten minutes of tantrically-slow nipple sucking and licking, she willingly acquiesced as I slowly slid my lips down her body and into position. As her face betrayed a tantalising blush and my nose and lips joined her sweet floral aroma I decided to take as much time as I could, ideally to make her come. Rekindling my affection for this magical goddess-worship brought to mind the overwrought adjectives of wine snobs describing pinot noir: "velvet, succulent & feminine".
After some time she worked her petite body up into an agitated state, delivered her release and then said coyly yet with a tablespoon of irony, "thanks for the great service". At this stage I was pretty hard and looking forward to hopefully getting some confidence from the experience.
However there was one object in my path - in my younger years I'd been blessed with girlfriends who were happy to commit to long-term relationships, therefore condoms were never required. I hate the things. For me it's not just the sensations they mask, but even the rubbery smell of them is repulsive to me. However this very cute girl had a trick up her sleeve - she put it on my manhood using her mouth - that got me over the hurdle and into a pleasant interlude where I lay on my back while she adopted a sexily servile position - with my cock in her mouth she put her knees up on the bed so her cute butt was up in the air, her back arched as she held the base of my cock with her dainty hand and sucked up and down over the condom.
Wake Up The Dead
Of course the elephant was still in the room - I was doing my best to enjoy the experience and certainly admiring her slender body, jet-black hair and smooth skin was keeping me "in the game". But the elephant was a creature of combination: my overall lack of confidence coupled with the fact that no matter how much I tried not to think about it, there was a cheap layer of man-made rubber between my eager firmness and her delectable, wet, kissable mouth. Eventually I decided my best hope was to move things along so that before the engorgement was completely lost, I could get inside her and ride her with my own desperate momentum.
The Toad and the Elf
Finally it was time to enter Mei's pink carnation - the condom hadn't quite killed off my ardour and so I attempted my first missionary position thrusting in five years. But just like all my previous missionary position misadventures in my lusty youth, it didn't hold me enthralled for long. I knew I had a quick minute or two before my disinterest - bullied by the hard rubber of the condom - killed off all solidity. So in one Darwinian motion I flipped Mei into the doggie position.
However one of the more ornate features of Kyoto Massage Parlour is a proliferation of mirrors, and, having not had "sexual exercise" for quite a few years, I found the image of my large body, in particular my stomach a little more generous than I'd like it to be, looming over such a delicate Asian body, to be a bit confronting. It was like seeing a toad having intercourse with an elf - or to put it more artistically, the resemblance was probably like watching Diego Rivera in a nuptial embrace with his profoundly more miniature wife Frida Kahlo.
Despite such a criminal sight I nevertheless very nearly came, but then, at the summit of the mountain, I just couldn't quite leap off! After hovering at the point of orgasm for a few minutes, I collapsed, exhausted.
Help from the Naked Hand
I confessed to little Mei that I was a bit out of practice, and that I loathed condoms and so just wasn't able to smoothly blow my load. So she suggested I lie back, and she removed the raincoat from my Little Prince Harvey. Her beautiful elfin hand was determined to help me celebrate the arrival of my first accompanied orgasm in many years, her soft palm radiating a caressing light as though it possessed a golden marigold at its heart. Her fingers dancing like small petals around my stirring stubbie which suddenly opened for a wonderful 'snow globe' finale. I must say, a Japanese woman's small little hand sure make's a Western guy's manhood look bigger than usual, and her gentle, refreshing and delicately floral technique also made it feel bigger than usual. This skin-on-skin condomless encounter was truly a heady and sensual affair which, despite the memories of a few stutters and stumbles early in the proceedings, ultimately delivered with a difference.
A Brighter (and Harder) Future
From this first encounter, after five years more barren than (hmm Julia Gillard analogies swim through my head), a light was planted on the top of the hill. Eros Mountain? From there I learnt to feel less ashamed about visiting these ladies of the night - in fact, far from the cliché of chain-smoking heroin-junkie hookers, the vast majority of Japanese and Korean prostitutes are clean-living country girls who need the money to get through their university studies in a foreign land. Hooray that we live in a city where such freedoms exist, where a husband's weary and neglected frame can be affordably rejuvenated by an exotic Asian beauty.
In the eternal pursuit of his exotic side, PHIL MICHEL took up the most tenderly erotic pastime possible ~ exploring the fragrances of Asian blossoms for hire. This is his delicately-worded report ...
Some years ago now I found myself escaping a marriage that had "gone sexless" for the last five years of it. My confidence was shot, quite simply.
Not only was I depressed, I was also impotent. The wife has done a great job of psychologically castrating me. I understood, in hindsight, that it was because she was afraid of sexuality - afraid of her own sexuality firstly - her fear then projected onto my sexuality which as the more overt form, had to be annihilated.
After finally escaping the abuse and tirades of guilt that this marriage had become, I knew that as a man, then in my mid-30s, I needed to rebuild my character, and to find a way to rediscover and renurture my erotic soul. It's remarkable how when your mojo is absent, you feel invisible - I would walk the streets and realised that no woman ever looked at me. I was the invisible man.
While a bit of a new-ager, I was also realistic enough to know that attending a tantric workshop in Sydney was not what was required for my dire situation. I didn't need to be repressing orgasms to pleasure a woman for hours on end, I just needed to have a series of orgasms in company!
Softly Softly
The first place I decided to try was Kyoto Escorts, 359 Riley St Surry Hills (02) 9211 8244. What I've come to discover is that Surry Hills is one big brothel - there's a red light in nearly every street and most of the bordellos house Asian women - some of them all ages and sizes but certainly Kyoto was a very encouraging place to start. From their line-up I chose a dramatically attractive and friendly girl, Mei, who once we were in the room, after a few gentle questions to satiate my curiosity, revealed she was from countryside Japan, which strangely enough helped me feel very relaxed.
Mei spoke passable English with a nasally tone to her voice which I found endearing. Being completely out of practice at sex I figured the best way to get turned on was to first suck and lick her breasts with the intent of seducing her into allowing me to lick her pussy. Disease-aphobes surely must recoil that I would risk this type of behaviour, but it's one thing I'd always enjoyed above all others and always got me hyper-horny in the past - and after about ten minutes of tantrically-slow nipple sucking and licking, she willingly acquiesced as I slowly slid my lips down her body and into position. As her face betrayed a tantalising blush and my nose and lips joined her sweet floral aroma I decided to take as much time as I could, ideally to make her come. Rekindling my affection for this magical goddess-worship brought to mind the overwrought adjectives of wine snobs describing pinot noir: "velvet, succulent & feminine".
After some time she worked her petite body up into an agitated state, delivered her release and then said coyly yet with a tablespoon of irony, "thanks for the great service". At this stage I was pretty hard and looking forward to hopefully getting some confidence from the experience.
However there was one object in my path - in my younger years I'd been blessed with girlfriends who were happy to commit to long-term relationships, therefore condoms were never required. I hate the things. For me it's not just the sensations they mask, but even the rubbery smell of them is repulsive to me. However this very cute girl had a trick up her sleeve - she put it on my manhood using her mouth - that got me over the hurdle and into a pleasant interlude where I lay on my back while she adopted a sexily servile position - with my cock in her mouth she put her knees up on the bed so her cute butt was up in the air, her back arched as she held the base of my cock with her dainty hand and sucked up and down over the condom.
Wake Up The Dead
Of course the elephant was still in the room - I was doing my best to enjoy the experience and certainly admiring her slender body, jet-black hair and smooth skin was keeping me "in the game". But the elephant was a creature of combination: my overall lack of confidence coupled with the fact that no matter how much I tried not to think about it, there was a cheap layer of man-made rubber between my eager firmness and her delectable, wet, kissable mouth. Eventually I decided my best hope was to move things along so that before the engorgement was completely lost, I could get inside her and ride her with my own desperate momentum.
The Toad and the Elf
Finally it was time to enter Mei's pink carnation - the condom hadn't quite killed off my ardour and so I attempted my first missionary position thrusting in five years. But just like all my previous missionary position misadventures in my lusty youth, it didn't hold me enthralled for long. I knew I had a quick minute or two before my disinterest - bullied by the hard rubber of the condom - killed off all solidity. So in one Darwinian motion I flipped Mei into the doggie position.
However one of the more ornate features of Kyoto Massage Parlour is a proliferation of mirrors, and, having not had "sexual exercise" for quite a few years, I found the image of my large body, in particular my stomach a little more generous than I'd like it to be, looming over such a delicate Asian body, to be a bit confronting. It was like seeing a toad having intercourse with an elf - or to put it more artistically, the resemblance was probably like watching Diego Rivera in a nuptial embrace with his profoundly more miniature wife Frida Kahlo.
Despite such a criminal sight I nevertheless very nearly came, but then, at the summit of the mountain, I just couldn't quite leap off! After hovering at the point of orgasm for a few minutes, I collapsed, exhausted.
Help from the Naked Hand
I confessed to little Mei that I was a bit out of practice, and that I loathed condoms and so just wasn't able to smoothly blow my load. So she suggested I lie back, and she removed the raincoat from my Little Prince Harvey. Her beautiful elfin hand was determined to help me celebrate the arrival of my first accompanied orgasm in many years, her soft palm radiating a caressing light as though it possessed a golden marigold at its heart. Her fingers dancing like small petals around my stirring stubbie which suddenly opened for a wonderful 'snow globe' finale. I must say, a Japanese woman's small little hand sure make's a Western guy's manhood look bigger than usual, and her gentle, refreshing and delicately floral technique also made it feel bigger than usual. This skin-on-skin condomless encounter was truly a heady and sensual affair which, despite the memories of a few stutters and stumbles early in the proceedings, ultimately delivered with a difference.
A Brighter (and Harder) Future
From this first encounter, after five years more barren than (hmm Julia Gillard analogies swim through my head), a light was planted on the top of the hill. Eros Mountain? From there I learnt to feel less ashamed about visiting these ladies of the night - in fact, far from the cliché of chain-smoking heroin-junkie hookers, the vast majority of Japanese and Korean prostitutes are clean-living country girls who need the money to get through their university studies in a foreign land. Hooray that we live in a city where such freedoms exist, where a husband's weary and neglected frame can be affordably rejuvenated by an exotic Asian beauty.