I had always been quite close to my Dad ever since my Mother left when I was quite young. We had always had the sort of relationship with no secrets and when he started to question why I hadn't got a girl friend I wasn't embarrassed.
"When I was your age I had been with several girls and here you are at eighteen and you haven't brought one home!"
"I know Dad," I said, "I guess it's just that I'm a bit shy."
"Tell you what," he said with a wink, "If I give you some money you might find a girl who can help you."
He never did shock me and to be truthful the thought of visiting a brothel was something that I had long had an urge to do.
"Don't worry," he said, "I was young once and I've "been there and done that!" Just be very careful that you make it safe."
I decided to take the ferry to Holland and visit Amsterdam where I knew it was all legal. I booked in at a sleazy little hotel near the centre and in the evening decided to have a look around. My heart was in my mouth as I found the brothel area and peered into first one window and then another to look at the half naked girls bent on enticing customers in. Eventually I went back to the hotel without daring to do more than just look.
In the morning I had decided that I had come all this way and it was about time I took a grip on myself. Nervously I knocked on the door of one of the houses and almost immediately it was opened by a woman who was smartly dressed in a suit and clearly about to go out. The woman explained that they were not open for business and I should come back later. Just then the phone rang in the house and she hurried back inside to answer it.
I had plucked up courage to knock on the door and now I found myself still standing there when she returned.
"You come in now," she ordered. Once inside I was struck by the overpowering scent of perfume and the erotic pictures on the wall.
"I not have to go out now," she explained. The phone message had obviously cancelled the need for her to go.
"What you want," she asked me abruptly?
I stuttered that last evening I had seen the pretty girl in the window. She said nothing but I was shown into a reception room and was once again met with that overpowering perfume. The woman, who said her name was Ingrid, spoke broken English.
She was quite tall and elegant and certainly looked smart in her conservative suit but was quite heavily made up. There was no mistaking the powerful aura of sexual attraction that a professional prostitute had for me.
Ingrid was the "Madam" of the house. She was a woman with a powerful personality and ruled her girls ruthlessly but fairly. They all adored her and would do anything to please her. When Ingrid wanted one of them for her own pleasure any one of them would go to her bed willingly and eagerly.
Strong men would feel overcome by her personality and many would get enormous sexual satisfaction when they yielded to her and she became their dominatrix.
"So you want Lisa?"
I was then shown into a bedroom with a large bed and again that exotic scent of perfume which was having the effect of making me slightly light headed.
"Wait here darling," she said.
She called me "darling!" I was beginning to panic now and wished that I was anywhere other than in the bedroom of a brothel!
Ingrid eventually returned and looked at her young victim. I was sitting nervously on the edge of the bed and she told me what I suspect she had known all along, that Lisa was still asleep. Now I really began to panic. She had manoeuvred me into a position where I had all but committed myself and I could see that Ingrid herself was to be my "girl".
"Your first time," she asked me?
"No, of course not," I replied with a faltering voice. I could feel the colour drain from my face. Ingrid, who was probably in her late thirties and twice my age now approached right up to me and I felt the first hint of what was to come when she took my face in her hands and her eyes met mine.
"I think it your first time," she said. "Is ok pretty boy, always has to be a first time," and she gave me a motherly kiss on my forehead.
She retreated away from me again and I admired her elegant figure as she undid the buttons of her jacket and swept it regally aside to put her hands on her hips. Her breasts, which were quite firm strained against her tight white nylon blouse.
"You like," she said? "Yes, very nice," I stuttered.
"I teach you good and then you go fuck all the girls," said Ingrid, laughing.
"How much you got?"
I told her and she said that it was not enough. I couldn't help feeling relieved. I said I was sorry to waste her time but that was all I had with me.
But Ingrid was not about to let me escape. She enjoyed "breaking in" youngsters - of both sexes and that was probably why she had admitted me after normal working hours.
"What you want to do," was the next question?
"But you said I hadn't enough money."
"Usually that would only be enough for a hand job," she said, "but for you I let you fuck me."
The panic returned but she had finished playing with me and now took total charge.
She once more approached me and I clumsily took her in my arms and tried to kiss her. She broke free. "No kiss," she said. "I never let customers kiss on lips,"
