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This is a question Have you ever paid for sex?

Well, have you? BTW: No more, "No I haven't" and "You sad bastard" comments please. Let the people with stories to tell, tell their stories. Cheers.

(, Thu 19 Jan 2006, 12:23)
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This question is now closed.

No. But here's a prossy tale...
I was a skinny, acne ridden 17 year old making my way through the back streets of Soho to get to my favorite record shop in Greek St. Two rather haggard looking ladies asked me if I "had the time" and like a fool I apologised for not wearing a watch.
Amidst the laughing, hag number 1 explains that she was offering me "a fuck for money". I didn't want to offend by refusing, so instead I lied and told her I was gay. Hag number 2 says "That’s alright then, you can do me up the arse and pretend I'm a bloke."
I scurried off and from a safe distance shouted "I'm not really gay you know."
That sure showed them...
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 23:00, Reply)
2 marriages
3 kids......

........of course I've fucking paid!

And I am still paying
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 22:49, Reply)
so very young

I offered the girl next door a lollipop for a look at her bottom when we were five, and she consented. Does that count ?

the things I'd like to do with that bottom and that lollipop today . . . .
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 22:33, Reply)
Paid for sex...
The 'flu saved me... Walking back to Kings Cross from work with the onset of the worst 'flu I've had. An old slag walked up and said, "Hello hansome, fansy a good time?". Then she saw me; ash white, sweating and shivering. She took one look at me, shouted, "FUCK AIDS!" and ran away. I had a temperature of 105 f for 3 solid days; there's something impressive about being too ugly looking for a hooker to shag...
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 21:41, Reply)
not me honest
My mate hates when i tell this story... lets refer to him as M. We were in amsterdam and he went in to see a hooker, a very pretty girl from birmingham,there had to be one (cat deeley exception). However having drunk quite a lot of strong dutch lager he decided he needed the toilet before doing the deed. the conversation went something like this..
M. have you got a toilet i can use?
Pro. No but for another 40 euros you can piss on me.
M. Looks in wallet.. looks at whore, looks in wallet again, MMM OK.
M. Deed done, as he walks out she's stood mopping the floor, so he turns round and says "call me".
Comes outside tells us all the story and adds, didn't think i had enough money to tell her i needed a shit!
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 20:55, Reply)
It was raining
I have not paid for sex but does bartering count? (People who know me will easily identify me by this story but I think it is a good example of how Girls Who Won't Give Blow Jobs make the lives of those who do a lot easier)

Went out on a Friday night when I was at uni. Had 9am rehearsal on Saturday (music student). Woke up on Saturday AM, still pissed at then boyf's house. It was pissing down. Car at uni from night before. SO I said would he give me a lift... he said only if I did the aforementioned.

It was only as I was swallowing that he said he would have taken me to uni anyway.

AND because I was still pissed I told my mates what I'd had to do to be there on time (when one of them was late). So now I often get asked if I want a lift.

But to be fair I was going out with the guy, I wouldn't just do it for anyone.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 20:28, Reply)
Almost, but not quite
On one of my first trips to Amsterdam (been for the last 5 birthdays as I'm a bit of a stoner) I was wandering through the red light district admiring the sites when this homeless guy comes over to me asking if I have any weed. I was at the tail end of a spliff and it was a wet night so I thought I'd be kind and let him finish it off. First mistake.

He starts following me asking if I have any money. I say no and keep walking but he can tell I'm an English tourist and i guess he assumed I was looking for some company for an hour or so. Still asking me for money I turn around and say 'No - look' - putting my hands in my pockets with the intention of pulling them out to show they are empty (like the elephant impression but without the trunk). Trouble was I'd forgot I has some notes in there so I try to palm them as I pull the pockets out. Second mistake.

He spots the notes so pulls out a penknife and threatens me with it. In retrospect, considering the blade was still put away and he was a shabby old tramp, I should have just twatted him in the face and walked off. But instead I look around for help and see a middle aged fat lady of negotiable affection beckoning me over. Thinking she's seen what was happening, I go straight over, into the relative safety of her cubicle, and tell her what just wnet on. She shouts out in another language (probably Dutch but it might have been Spainish) and this six foot 'built like a brick shit house' pimp comes rushing in, giving me evils that should have left me with nightmares for life had I not been too stoned to remember it properly.

She says something else and he goes storming out to presumably give the tramp the kicking of his life for scaring off punters. She sits me down and gets very motherly for a few minutes, making sure I'm OK, before asking if I would like to share some intimate time with her. After I said no (partly cos she was properly minging but mainly because I was far far too stoned to get it up), she bustles me out of her cubicle and blows me this big wet kiss in front of a load of English tourists!

I don't know what was more embarrasing - having to go to her for help dealing with an old tramp with a penknife - or looking like I'd just paid her for sex.

Besides, I was saving my cherry for b3ta.com!
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 19:55, Reply)
I've paid for it ...
Years ago, I left college to get a full time job to support my now ex boyfriend's teetering business. I finally left that loser and swore never to sacrifice my future for a man again

Cut to a Year ago. I quit a fulltime job to move to the middle of nowhere with my fiance'. Took my car off the road to save on expenses. Then his job screws him over and he bails on me.

Now I am newly celibate by choice and I get paid to hear men's dirty secrets.

Bitter? Nah.. just put off a bit.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 19:43, Reply)
don't go to brixton...
I was staying in Brixton with a mate (at his flat near the arches and the overland train station for those who know it...). We were heading out one evening and I, being the beer homing eager beaver I am set off in hot pursuit of the amber nectar, only to turn round and wait for him and have someone who can only be described as looking like someone sanded down a rusty combine harvester blade with her face stopped me and asked if i was looking for business. To which my answer was a polite but firm no.

Wasn't enough for her. She proceeded to ask me to lend her a quid. 1) what does this say about her success rate in scoring? 2) when exactly would this 'loan' be repaid?

Needless to say I gave her the quid, mainly out of terror
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 19:41, Reply)
Dolls House - Hamburg
Great place, with Dolly Dollars and fantastic birds. Especially when one of them get on the motorbike! 10 / 10 for totty.

Def worth a visit if you are in Hamburg.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 19:10, Reply)
...but it's always me who ends up making the Marmite on toast in the morning.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 18:54, Reply)
Barcelona Stag Do
was informed by some chaps who live out there that Ballin 22 was the club that we were going to, which was located at 22 Ballin Street, so after shooting some arrows in the archery bar we scooted along, had a nice feel as you walked in, not a good as the dolls house in hamburg, but a nice club atmosphere, 15 euros to get in and your first drink free (and it needed to be as you wouldn't get much change from 10 euros for a beer).

the ladies dancing i must say were very nice, there were a series of small marquee's to one side of the club and the spanish speaking guys arranged for us all to sit in on a private dance but with all the attention on the groom (it was a stag weekend BTW). most enjoyable dance from a petite eastern european girl, then all back out to the main club to watch the free dances. it was at this point i was at the bar chatting with one of the spanish guys when some of the girls started to talk to us, it then twigged that this was a glorified knocking shop, and that i didn't want any knocking, some of the party however did and set about chatting to the ladies and buying them drinks before disappearing for a couple of hours.

after a while we got bored of the dancing ladies and high drinks prices and left to find a early moring bakery where you could get a tray of pastries for 2 euros. we were accosted by some black street hookers but managed to tell them to piss off as we weren't interested, we then bought some cans of beer from a street trader and some porn mags from one of the kiosks on las ramblas before heading back to our hotel.

those that went with the hookers in the club were lighter in the pocket to the tune of about 500 euros as they had gone back to a flat that was around the corner from the club.

i haven't paid for it but i have a few dirty secrets on others who have,
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 18:15, Reply)
Why go to the bother of being all subtle? Simply bend over a keg and let nature take its course.

In answer to the question of the week: No. last time I checked cigarettes weren't legal tender outside of prison.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 17:48, Reply)
Lets say a friend...
Right then, I work in an office, sitting at a desk all day doing, what dull stuff with computers.. As I see it, the more fag breaks I have during the day, the better off I am as Im being paid to smoke, right?
Well, the other day I went smoking, outside as normal, and, as normal, there was a few people all smoking at the same time. Well, as with most fairly large offices, there were people who i knew very well, people i knew less well and people who i dont really know at all... They were all blokes, chatting about blokey things.
The normal bollocks we chat about turned to Amsterdam and then the talk moved on to dodgy hookers and people who go to them..
One of the people who I didn't know that well piped up. "Yeah, I've been to loads. Been to most of the knocking shops in Bristol and loads in Amsterdam too!".
Mild shock occured at this point, as you've gotta remember, this isn't actually a mate or anything, this is just someone we work with. But fair enough - he's clearly not embarrased about it, lets not judge.

Hmmm... If only he'd stopped there.. Ahh.. My mind would have been pure. As it is he, unfortunatly, continued.

"In fact, I was in Prague once, and thats how I got this scar [Points to small scar on forehead]! I had been smoking all day and was pilled right up so decided to go and get my end away."

Hmm.. Where is this going...

"So I went to this whorehouse I found, I was fucking out my tree, and paid my money, and it was one of those brothels with a Jacuzzi in it. There was this bird in there all waiting, like, so I started getting my clothes off, and I was so horny and fucked I fell face first into the side of the bath!"

Good Lord. What kind of people do I work with?

"So this girl started screaming and before I knew what was happening, two bouncers had kicked the door in and had me pinned up against the wall."

Right, thought I, so he got a kicking and was taught the error of his ways, possibly breaking the 'lady-of-the-night' out of her vicious drug-abuse cycle, such is the power of romance. But no.

"Luckily the prozzie explained what had happened, and they were so nice about it - made sure I was OK, and got me a plaster [band-aid to you Yankees who read this] and wished me well."

Ahh.. Thats nice. Story of people the world over being nice to an injured fellow human. Anyway, finished smoki.. What the.. He's carrying on.. hmmm..

"So then they left, and I thought, fuck this, i've paid my money, i wanna get a fuck. So I checked it was alright and got back in. So I was in the jacuzzi, getting wanked off by this prozzie, then I decided to fuck her - so we went to the bed and i climbed on and started to fuck the shit out of her."

Nice. He was mimeing fucking this prozzie. Outside of FUCKING WORK!

"Anyway I was just about to come, and the plaster comes off again, blood starts pissing over her face, and I fucking loved it! I shot my bolt just seeing that! Course she was screaming again and the bouncers burst back in, but she explained that it wasn't anything serious and they patched my up again and I walked out happily!"

I was stood there - mouth open, agog at the story I'd just heard. I couldn't quite belive it.. I mean this is a guy who i dont know that well, who i WORK with who has just told me one of the worst stories I've ever heard.

We all went back inside and emails were flying about between all the people who were outside.. Basically, he'd told us that seeing this prozzie covered in blood and screaming was the best thing he'd ever seen, and it made him shoot his load.
I'm still decideing whether to call the pigs out.

This is, unfortunatly, a true story. Sorry everyone.
He's actually a fairly alright bloke though. Apart from wanting to kill whores.

Oh, and for people from work who know who I am, his initials are DB. Scary scary DB.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 17:39, Reply)
congratulations oeb!
get it down the pit. it'll pay for itself... sorted.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 16:47, Reply)
I'm about to be paying for it
I just found out that I'm going to be a daddy in September.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 16:10, Reply)
Inadvertantly paid to watch sex once
There was a notorious strip joint in my town and I had ALWAYS been curious to go in.

One night a friend of mine wanted to hook up with a bloke she knew was going there, so at last - my opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.

The two of us (girls) paid to get in and I was immediately struck by the amazed look on the bouncers face.

When we walked through the crowd to a table I had the creepy feeling I was being undressed by all eyes around me. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I realised this was because we were the only girls with any clothes on.

We ordered a drink and started to watch the show. I was having trouble finding a place to rest my eyes as there were giant knockers and thong clad girls everywhere with small hand towels walking through the crowd offering "table dances" (read - hand jobs). In desperaion I started to peel the label off my drink just to find something to look at.

The floor show was fairly tame, I've seen worse in pubs in England, but at the table next to us a table dancer poised herself upsidedown on the blokes lap and he tucked in to a royal munching.

Feeling mightily uncomfortable at this point I wanted to leave, but my friend was still insisting on staying as this bloke hadn't showed up. I decided to go to the loo and to my horror found that this place was a total knocking shop with used condoms everywhere and two classy whores effing and blinding at the sinks.

I left - without touching anything. They closed the place down after that and tore it down. I'm quite proud to be one of the only girls I know that actually went in.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 15:54, Reply)
Have i ever paid 4 sex
lets total this months cash layout. £90 pair of boots £139.99 for a dress.Her car needed a service last week for £310. Get married my friends and you will every week for the rest of your days.
But im not bitter
. bitch
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 15:11, Reply)
Its kinda obvious...
We all pay for sex. If you`re married you pay for it every single day. Serves you right.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 15:08, Reply)
Almost paid with his life...
A friend of mine a while back got chatting to some whores outside a club in Spain. He wasnt interested and was just making polite conversation when he noticed one of the fuckers trying to nick his wallet out his back pocket.
Naturally he pushed her away and asked her what she was doing, to which she replied,

"Touching your bum, smelly dick."

The rest of the pack thought this was hilarious and fell about laughing. My mate, not one to be out done came up with the most witty retort he could muster,

"Fuck off you ugly c**ts"

The laughing immediately stopped.
Short of kicking their mothers in the face, this was apparently the biggest cultural faux pas in Spain at the time and they flew at him. Obviously not one for having his eyes scratched out by malevolent hookers, he ran, like the sissy he is.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 14:58, Reply)
"But what if I can't get it up?"
I've never paid for sex. I've also never been paid for sex - but only just. Oh, and I'm a (fairly) straight, male.

End of 1st year uni exams, 19 and skinny. Sunny Oxford in early summer. Organised boat trip down the Thames to celebrate - arranged by college drinking society, but with proper townie crew. Unlimited free wine. All very lovely.

Idiot me decides that the best thing to do is to down 4 litres of unbelievably cheap white wine. Idiot me then starts to stagger. Idiot me then starts to copiously vomit over the side of the boat. Boatmen, reasonably if unmercifully, decide that unloading me from their boat onto the towpath 5 miles outside Oxford is the best way to deal with the situation.

The girl I'd been trying and miserably failing to pull over the course of the entire first year, sportingly, volunteers to escort me back to civilisation. Unfortunately, somewhere on the towpath trip, I annoy her so much that she returns home alone (I've never found out precisely how, and hopefully never will). Instead, I pass out on the towpath.

I'm woken by a fat-ish guy aged about 30, shaven hair and an earring, asking me if I'm alright. Yes, I say. Do I know where I am? Not really. Do I fancy a lift back to town? Yes, that would be lovely. So we get into his MX5-ish sports car. He regales me with tales of his musical talents, the fact that he's signed up with East 17's manager and has lots of record deals in the pipeline. Very interesting, I say. Do I want to go back to his house and smoke some weed? Well, of course I do.

So we go back to his parents' rather large (parent-free) country house, sit down in the living room, and he plays me some godawful sub-Pet Shop Boys dance bollocks. Very nice, I say. He rolls a joint. I smoke it. He kisses me. I kiss him back, slightly surprised and confused by what's going on. He stops.

Do you fancy watching some TV? Yes, I say. OK, walk this way to the bedroom (no, I didn't ask what was wrong with the TV in the living room). So we sit on the bed and he puts on the football.

He kisses me again. Will you fuck me up the arse for £150? Err, what, I say? Will you fuck me up the arse for £150? No, actually, I don't think I will... indeed, I don't think I'm capable in my current state.

At this point I develop the fear and demand that he takes me home. To his great credit, he does, asks for my number, and I almost feel guilty when I deliberately get the digits wrong. I return to the college bar where my coursemates are still drinking, and affect memory loss covering the entire rest-of-day.

(and no apologies whatsoever for length. I'll have you know some people would pay £150 for it...)
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 14:01, Reply)
not me but another story about the bed sh1tting boss...
... who, on holiday with his then girlfriend, the green-card seeking korean slut-whore (in no way does that refer to any korean other than this one!!), deliberately got her so drunk that she passed out in the hotel room so that he could "go for a walk on the beach".

several hours of banging a thai girl in the a$$ later, he returned to fulfil her instructions of "washing me off before you get back into bed with your girlfriend". and he wondered why this very attractive girl who had been so keen to come onto him then asked for a "taxi-fare"... er...

i was amazed any woman would not notice that her boyfriend disappeared for 5 hours and then went straight for a shower when he got back, but she didn't. could be that she was very dumb, but i suspect she was just glad to get rid of him for a bit. anyway, i've been convincing him ever since he told me that the girl's an*l fetish was due to her being a ladyboy, and have him sufficiently worried.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 13:51, Reply)
Officially, I attribute this to a profound respect for women and a disdain for meaningless sex.

Also, I'm a notorious cheapskate, but who can tell the difference?



Long time ago. Too drunk to enjoy it.
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 13:23, Reply)
Not exactly...
...but I did get some excellent advice from a cabbie in Las Vegas, while the Consumer Electronics Show was in full swing.

"You looking for girls?"
"Not really."
"Just as well. They all triple their prices when the desperate geeks are in town."

(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 12:51, Reply)
ever worn out a hooker?
considering I work a lot and at the time I had no time for a girlfriend. I did a motobike-based mailbox delivery job, which made my muscles very tensed up after at least half a year in that Job. (thus making it a real excercise to really unwind and relax) Whenever I had the money I'd do the occasional visit to a Brothel.

One time I virtually "wore out" a hooker because my muscles were so tensed up I couldn't blow my load (and stayed rock hard like they do in porno's). Had to stop bonking her in that session because the hooker got exhausted! (damn she was sexy too!)
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 12:50, Reply)
You're all pervs !

No seriously, anybody noticing how many people went to Amsterdam to do some dirty things. I mean, where's that silly country going to ...
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 12:38, Reply)
The Beast of Borneo
Living in South-East Asia, there's not exactly a shortage of stories. Let me see - last weekend there was an American ship in town, and so we had a couple of rounds of the game where you pick two Marine who haven't realised the original gender of the beautiful girls they're buying drinks; then two of you go up and start chatting before telling them both separately that their friend's about to shag a bloke - and then running for your life: angry Marines are one thing, but never get between a ladyboy and her next transaction.

I think the best one was in Hong Kong a few years ago - a colleague, who we called the Beast of Borneo, was notorious for negotiating affection. One Saturday afternoon, he rang me up and asked if he could pop round to my flat. Ten minutes later, he arrives, clearly shaken, and phones his hotel, making up some story about the room being unacceptable and asking to have all of his belongings moved to another one. Apparently Miss Friday Night hadn't wanted to leave on Saturday - so they went out for breakfast. She wouldn't leave after that either, so they hung out and then went for lunch together. She still wouldn't go, so he took her shopping, loaded her up with clothes and sent her into the changing room - before jumping in a cab to my place! He was normally overly eager to share his exploits with everybody, but refused to say what he'd done to this girl, or why he was so scared of her coming back...
(, Mon 23 Jan 2006, 11:15, Reply)

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