Frankfurtin the summer, 2012’s was my first summer as a single person in many years, and this newfound status of absolute freedom sounded exactly like a giant “I can do whatever the fuck I want a little bit,” especially compared to the previous years of living with my last ex.
The long period of my upcoming August vacation had already been booked as a month-long stay in the States, hosted by an Italian-American girl I was seeing who was my age. But a month before crossing the ocean, I decided to take another flight that would bring me to one of the places with the highest concentration of brothels in the world: Frankfurt am Main. The fifth largest city in Germany by population and one of the most important financial centers in Europe, home to the German Federal Bank and the European Central Bank. Frankfurt boasts one of the busiest airports worldwide and the second busiest train station in Europe in terms of passenger traffic. Lots of people, lots of money, an ancient city that has managed to renew itself architecturally with its many skyscrapers, earning it the nickname “Mainhattan,” a nod to New York’s famous financial heart. A vibrant, tourist-friendly, multicultural city with a high quality of life — the perfect place for a thriving paid sex market.
Among the many venues inside and outside the city limits, including those in nearby towns, my target was the World in Gießen (or Giessen), about sixty kilometers north of Frankfurt. I had been fascinated and intrigued by the descriptions I’d read online and the photos of this FKK club, especially the outdoor area, which looked huge and made me think more of a classic exotic holiday resort than a sauna club right in the middle of Germany.
This time I was traveling alone. I had tried to recruit a couple of friends for the trip, but that July weekend they were all busy, and I couldn’t postpone because I was leaving for the New World shortly after. But first, I absolutely wanted to visit the “old World.” I booked a low-cost flight departing from Pisa, a rental car at Hahn Airport, and a hotel room near Frankfurt’s infamous red-light district, also known as the “red zone”…
I touched down in Germany late in the evening but right on time. I picked up the rental car, and about an hour and a half later I was at the hotel—tired from the journey after a full day of work, but eager to explore the red-light district. Honestly, I would have preferred some company because the red zone, with its mix of small brothels, bars, and shady characters, can be overwhelming. It’s easier to shake off the persistent “PR” guys who try to lure you into these dubious pseudo-nightclubs when you’re not alone.
I still managed to take a long walk among the countless signs and numbers indicating the so-called “Puff” — the buildings where rooms are rented out to prostitutes. Usually, these buildings have at least three or four floors, often more, and each floor is divided by category or type of worker. For example, the first floor is almost exclusively women of color, the second floor hosts massage workers, the third floor has Eastern European girls, the fourth floor is for transsexuals, and so on. Of course, there’s no strict rule, and each building has its own character; some specialize in massages, others in fetish, others in Asian girls, and many have a bit of everything.
I climbed up and down hundreds of stairs in about twenty Puff buildings. It was late, and many doors were closed, so the options were limited. In the end, after passing on some Eastern European girls who looked physically appealing but visibly uninterested, I found a little Hungarian blonde who spoke some Italian. I happily exchanged a few words with her by the door of the room, but although she was cute and seemed friendly, I was too tired to fully enjoy her company. The long day of work and travel had taken its toll, and the damn Puff stairs were the final straw.
So, I decided to leave her to her business and calmly returned to the hotel to rest, already thinking ahead to the next day at the World.
The next morning, after a deep and restful sleep, I was ready to enjoy my visit to the club. But since it was only nine o’clock and the World doesn’t open before eleven, I treated myself to a hearty breakfast at a café downtown. This gave me the chance to see how different the red-light district’s streets looked compared to the night before. Indeed, most of the Puff buildings didn’t seem operational yet.
In truth, a few were open, and since I was already nearby, I ventured into a couple of places just out of curiosity to see if there was any activity so early in the morning. As I expected, I found no one around except for a few very early-working operators, mostly Asian women offering various kinds of massages.
I return to the hotel, pick up the car, and hit the Autobahn! No traffic, and the road is practically straight. Forty minutes later, I’m already in the parking lot, ready to make my triumphant entrance as a lone traveler. But I’m sure company will be the least of my worries once inside.
I handle the usual formalities at the reception, where I also notice a convenient ATM (which eliminates the risk of running out of cash while wanting to enjoy myself). I head to the changing rooms — spacious and roomy, perfectly proportioned to the size of the place, just like the showers and other facilities. Around noon, I finally step onto the playing field.
The girls, partly because of the hour, aren’t many yet, but more are still arriving and will keep coming well into the late afternoon. Besides a few very appealing ladies, what immediately strikes me is the attention to detail and the care with which the place is maintained, as well as the variety of different settings it offers.
Walking around the World is a bit like taking a walking tour of the globe — passing in an instant from Egypt to New York, then Hollywood, finding yourself under the arcade of a Russian building right next to a Chinese Buddhist temple, and finally standing in front of an Italian restaurant. Behind the restaurant’s facade, complete with a “Ristorante” sign on the awning, hides the actual restaurant of the venue. Simply brilliant.
And all of this is just around the bar in the main recreational hall — the first thing I see after the changing rooms and reception.
I try to complete my tour by heading down to the lower floor, where I find several corridors connecting the different areas of the wellness section — in particular, the “fireplace room” and the swimming pool, next to which sits a charming jacuzzi. These details add an air of elegance to the whole venue.
Along the corridors, I encounter a few more girls who try to catch my attention, but they always do it politely and never come off as pushy if you say no. Since I still had my tour to finish, and considering the club closes at five in the morning, my day was going to be very long. So far, my answer to the ladies’ advances has been a polite, “No thanks, see you later, I just got here.”
I manage to reach the garden and find myself in a huge open space surrounded by tall trees — practically a vast green park dotted with numerous small structures here and there, like wooden cabins with saunas and others with beds inside, but also teepees, gazebos, and even a volleyball court. Wandering through the park, you come across some less common features too, like a canopy bed shaped like a pagoda, where, if desired, you can get intimate with the ladies, or a carriage turned into a sofa nestled among the trees. There are also loungers, sofas, and every kind of comfort, not to mention the pool and the bar.
It’s actually the latter — or rather, the entire atmosphere around it — that strikes me the most; it really feels like being on a Caribbean beach, complete with sand, palm trees, umbrellas, and everything else — just missing the sea and maybe fifteen degrees warmer weather.
Anyway, the day is fairly warm and sunny, and once I finish my tour of the place, I decide to head back inside to start socializing with the girls, who by now seem to have multiplied and are everywhere. A feast for the eyes, and proof that even traveling alone, I’d have excellent company throughout the long day ahead.
I grab a beer at the bar and settle down on the sofas in the “Soviet corner” of the main lounge, where within about half an hour I’m approached by nearly twenty girls—mostly Romanian, all quite beautiful, polite, and not pushy. Still, none of them gives me that thrilling chill down my spine. Then she shows up—a blonde gazelle who vaguely reminds me of a young Reese Witherspoon (Annette Hargrove from Cruel Intentions), but way hotter.
“So, who are you?” I ask her, my eyes sparkling at the sight of such stunning beauty.
“I’m Justine,” she replies, settling on the couch with one leg casually resting over mine. I take a closer look at her face, and my mind goes a little numb, captivated by the depth of her blue eyes. I gently stroke her long, flawless model-like legs — she looks about twenty-four — as we share a cigarette and chat animatedly. Ten minutes later, I’m taking her up to my room.
What followed was one of the most pornographic performances I’ve ever experienced. Describing the next half hour would be pointless—it was a whirlwind of intense sensations and impressive athletic moves from both of us. Until I heard the bells ring and the lights went out, just as I was enjoying her from behind in pure delight…
“Ah, what a divine ass. Ah, what a beautiful little lamb!” Things you really don’t forget. The social time with her was nice enough, but time’s up and it’s time to settle the bill. She cheerfully takes her fifty, thanks me, says goodbye, and goes off to freshen up.
I took a much-needed shower myself, then returned to the lounge to enjoy a coffee. As I looked around, I was struck by a sweet brunette — petite, with absolutely stunning breasts. My first thought: “Adorable.” The second: “I want her.” But having just come from a room, I knew I wouldn’t fully enjoy her company right now. So, I kept her in my sights and settled into the Egyptian corner, which offered a better view, even if it meant less privacy than the Soviet corner. Shortly after, my dream girl disappeared with another guest, slipping out of sight. I decided to soak up some sun in the garden instead, wandering the vast grounds and seeing “things you humans couldn’t even imagine.” Eventually, I settled on a lounger by the pool, relaxing and waiting to find my sweet, curvy brunette again.
Meanwhile, another lone traveler approached and settled on the lounger beside me. He asked if I had a light. He spoke in English, but catching my Italian accent, I replied, “Yes, of course.”
“Ah, you’re Italian!” he said.
“Tuscan,” I replied.
We started chatting and I found out he’s from Romagna and, like me, it was his first time at the World. He’s a regular at the Andiamo though, and we probably crossed paths once in Villach. We spent about half an hour swapping stories and impressions about the Carinthian club. Then, back to the present, I strongly recommended Justine—the girl I’d just been with—and said goodbye, heading back inside in search of the brunette.
There were other prospects outside too, but I’d already set my sights on her. We’ll see how it goes; it’s a long day ahead…
I order another coffee in the “Around the World” lounge and scan the room again, searching for my beauty—but with no luck. So, I head down to the fireplace room, which I have to admit is really well done and cozy, all wood-paneled—even the ceiling. But again, there’s no sign of the girl I’m looking for.
I settle on a sofa in a prime spot, while on the couch next to me, an older gentleman is being pampered by a Valkyrie at least six feet tall, who’ll be leaving with him, lively and spry, just a few minutes later.
Strangely, no one bothers me here—except for a tall blonde coming from the pool area who heads straight for me. She’s a bit lacking in the chest department, but her walk is impressive, and she’s got a cute little naughty face. Just as I’m admiring her moves, I catch sight of a pair of big breasts and a slender figure crossing the pool behind her.
“That’s the curvy brunette! Finally!”
The tall blonde stands in front of me trying to chat, but I basically ignore her and just give a quick “Hey, sorry, I gotta go.” I was too busy chasing after the other one to even notice her reaction, but I’m guessing she thought I was nuts—or maybe that I was about to soil myself. Oh well…
I rush toward the pool, chasing after my busty fairy, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I look around, check near the hot tub, scan the hallway. Nothing. She’s vanished again.
“This isn’t a woman,” I think, “she’s a damn ninja.”
I decide to turn back, casually glancing around, and—surprise!—I almost bump right into her. I hadn’t even noticed she’d reappeared behind me. I want to ask where the hell she’d been hiding, but the moment she’s in front of me, I instinctively pull her into a hug. “You’re not getting away now,” I say, feeling her chest press against me. She gives me a strange look for a second (maybe she thinks I’m crazy with this unusual approach), then realizes she’s just found a new admirer, so she smiles and melts into sweetness when I invite her to move over to one of the poolside loungers to chat. There, she lies down practically on top of me with that feather-light body of hers. Her name’s Diana, she’s Romanian. I honestly tell her I was looking for her because I’m really attracted to her breasts. She lifts herself up a bit, grabs them with her hands as if to say, “Yeah, they’re definitely big,” and “Yeah, you’ll get to play with them.”
I like her vibe — she’s got that wild, naughty edge but also a disarmingly sweet side. I decide to tell her we should go to the room and have some fun. She gives me a little kiss and slides away to stand up. But just as I get up from the lounger, a pretty blonde pops up and starts saying something to her in their native language. I check out the blonde from head to toe, then Diana introduces her, saying, “This is my sister.” Then, looking at me with a sly grin — and the blonde copying her — she adds, “Want us together?”
I need to think about it for a moment — I’m not usually into threesomes; I prefer to focus on one fairy at a time. But since she introduced her as her “sister,” I figure they must be pretty close. Actually, they do look enough alike to be real sisters, which gives a nice little boost to my naughty side. So, even though I definitely prefer the petite brunette, this could turn out to be pretty interesting.
Seeing me hesitate, Diana presses her big boobs against me and encourages me to say yes, while her “sister” smooths her ass and sensually licks her lips.
“Okay, let’s go to the room.”
The little draculas look pleased with my decision, and with Diana clinging to one arm and her sister Simona acting as guide, I find myself in a large room with a double bed and an entire wall covered in mirrors. Just seeing myself between these two beautiful naked sisters already has quite an effect on me. This promises to be an intense and very, very pornographic session.
Diana sits on the bed, while Simona wraps herself around me from behind, pressing her breasts against me and taking my cock in hand before slipping it into her sweet sister’s mouth. Simona starts a gentle blowjob, accompanied by Diana’s hands, who meanwhile is licking my ear and then down my neck, before moving in front to take over the magical double blowjob. I enjoy the show in the mirror for at least ten minutes, but if I let them go on like this, I won’t last a minute longer. So I decide I want two little lambs in front of the mirror, one after the other. I have to say, Simona gives me great satisfaction during this moment as I ride her, holding tightly to her breasts, which aren’t like Poppea’s but are firm and perfect to grab with both hands. I’m in ecstasy watching the scene in the mirror, also thanks to Diana who meanwhile performs circus-like contortions, slipping under us and licking everything there is to lick. I then invite them to change position because I want to play with both of them together. So I lie down and the blonde rides me, while I pull Diana’s pussy to my face and savor those luscious, lust-scented lips, something she seems to appreciate as she joyfully announces to the other: “He’s good!” This excites me so much I lose all control; the only thing holding me back from exploding instantly is the desire to do it inside the little and plump Diana. So I leave the blonde sister aside and finish the game in the classic missionary with the brunette beneath me, while her colleague teases my jewels and urges me to fill the other, whispering sweet words like: “Fill that little slut, you pig!”
Two minutes later, I hear the bells ring again as I explode inside the warm tunnel of the sweet, curvy brunette, who seemed to enjoy the play and almost regretted it (within the limits of her work, of course). These two little vampires are really cute—and they’re also huge sluts. We straighten up and I go to settle the hefty bill. But it was worth it. Kisses and hugs, and knowing I’d be pulling an all-nighter inside, they say goodbye with a “See you later!”
After the shower, I spend the next few hours in the garden, totally relaxed. A drink, a cigarette, a little nap in the shade of the trees, and some chat with a couple of fellow Italians. One of them is a regular customer and points out a couple of his favorite girls, but clearly, our tastes don’t match, so I appreciate the polite gesture but know it won’t help me with my next choices.
Time passes, and around eight in the evening I start feeling a bit hungry. Come to think of it, I’ve been fasting since morning, and after the athletic performance with the sisters, I definitely earned a good dinner. The barbecue is quite good, and I fill my belly properly — maybe even too much. The place is now quite crowded, and the main bar area after dinner turns into a sort of nightclub, with the girls dancing happily and the music pumping relentlessly. But as I said, maybe I overdid it with the meat, so I prefer to relax a bit more outside where the atmosphere is calmer. I dodge a couple of girls trying to grab me on the fly and make my way to the exit. I order a Martini on the rocks and settle on one of the loungers at the Beach Bar, right in the sand. By now, there’s so much people around that I see a steady flow of girls and an almost continuous stream of punters coming and going. Among them I spot the Romagnolo guy I met in the afternoon, who by now has found his lighter again. He grabs a drink, sits down, we exchange a few impressions about the place again, and he tells me he’s already done four rooms. “No wonder I hadn’t seen you around,” I say. We laugh and joke until a smiling dark-eyed doe arrives — despite her apparently young age, she approaches him with the confidence of a seasoned pornstar, smoothly seducing him by rubbing her incredibly attractive body against his. I see them exchange a few words, then after politely greeting me, the guy heads off to the rooms for the fifth round of the day, and I guess that after his meeting with this other draculina he decided to leave the battlefield, because I didn’t see him around anymore.
I follow them with my eyes, and as they walk away, I notice a girl who catches my attention. She’s fairly tall and very tanned; her breasts are clearly enhanced but still pleasant to look at on that athletic body. Her tattooed arms give off a bad-girl vibe, and her full lips — perfect for a blowjob — complete the picture. I wait until she looks my way and gesture for her to come over. She immediately approaches with her vamp-like stride, accentuated by a pair of black boots that give her a very “professional” look for the job she does. She introduces herself as Eva and says she’s from Serbia. She’s probably the hottest Serbian I’ve ever met. Definitely worth getting to know better.
Eva isn’t exactly the social type, but in the room she turns out to be a real bombshell, so much so that she completely destroys me and brings our encounter to an end well before the half-hour mark — something quite rare for me. In a nutshell, she’s an excellent professional, and delivering a good dose of “sacred nectar” straight into her mouth, which didn’t miss a single drop, was quite a satisfaction. A nice after-dinner treat, I’d say, perfect to relax completely and then go back to lounging where I’d first met her — naturally, not before giving her the proper payment for her service, including the extra she definitely earned. Usually, I prefer a different type of girl, but every now and then, you need something less emotionally involving but physically devastating — obviously, in the best sense of the word.
Back at the Beach Bar, I sit at the counter, order a cola, and light a Marlboro in peace. The situation is the same as an hour earlier, but now I just want to relax, so I decide to go to the sauna — the one in the little cabin out in the garden. The cabin is empty, which is better. I enter and, undressing, sit down. I pour some water over the hot stones, and the steam quickly warms the room. I repeat this at least three times, and the heat grows more intense. I stretch my legs out on the bench and lean my back against the warm wall. Then I think about where I am and conclude that I couldn’t be in a better place than this. It was a good choice to come here, but I won’t have the chance to return for a while, so I want to fully enjoy this day.
The sauna door opens and a brunette girl enters—cute, petite, and with graceful movements. She greets me with a smile and climbs over me to lie down on the upper bench. We chat a bit, and she tells me she loves the heat of the sauna. I jokingly say that we could have sex in there, but as if she took me seriously, she replies that it’s not allowed there, but we could go to one of the garden cabins instead. I politely decline the offer, and five minutes later, overwhelmed by the heat, I decide to leave, saying goodbye to the brunette. Seeing me leave, she promptly renews her invitation to slip away with her, but after another refusal, she stays lying there, legs spread, sweat glistening on her skin, making her quite inviting. But now is not the time, so before changing my mind, I turn around and walk out.
I go take a shower and then head back to the pool, where I sit down with a beer surrounded by several guests of various nationalities. There’s also a group of four Japanese guys with as many girls happily doting on them on the loungers by the pool. I’ll find out later that they’re regulars at the place and incurable big spenders, which is why they’re very popular with the ladies.
A blonde girl spots me and gracefully sits on my lap. She’s probably not taller than about five feet three, with skin smooth as silk, free of any imperfections or adornments—no piercings, not even a tattoo. She’s light as a feather, with a slim figure and a bust that, given her proportions, is truly a delight to the eyes. Her name is Beatrice, she’s twenty-two years old, and she’s Romanian.
After exchanging a couple of words, she catches my broken accent and starts speaking decent Italian, which she says she learned while working in Italy for a while. She’s friends with Diana and Simona and says she noticed I was with them in the room, so when she saw me alone outside, she approached. I don’t pay too much attention to her words, but I’m quite attracted to her petite body. While she talks, I gently feel her thighs and her backside, which sparks a series of erotic fantasies stirring Mr. Bald down there. I recall the offer from the girl earlier in the sauna, so I suggest to Beatrice that we take some privacy in one of the wooden cabins in the park. She readily agrees, but before we go, I tell her I want to grab a drink because she inspires so much sexiness in me, and if she’s as good as she’s pretty, I don’t know when we’ll come out. Hearing money in my words, her eyes light up, and she hugs me, escorting me to the bar. I order another Martini, and since we’re there, I ask if she wants anything. She doesn’t want alcohol and opts for a non-alcoholic cocktail to refresh her palate.
Walking through the large garden, we reached one of the cabins, but it was already occupied, so Beatrice led me directly to the most remote corner of the park, practically in the middle of the woods, where there was another cabin that she was sure would be free. And she was right—there was no one there; and in that secluded wooden room, we spent two hours away from the chaos and out of time.
She confirmed my first impressions while lying on the bed—she was gentle in her ways but didn’t hold back, and she loved to play. Her kisses were sweet and intense, and she loved being licked; she got wet immediately like a bitch in heat. I had fun with her shaved, smooth pussy for what felt like an eternity until she, soaking wet, gripped my head tightly between her legs and let out a loud moan of pleasure, then opened them again, flashing a mischievous and quite satisfied smile before diving onto me to return the favor with interest.
She’s so good that, in just a few minutes—helped by the excitement of the moment—she manages to make me come in her mouth without any effort. Then, apologizing with gestures since her mouth was full, she gets rid of the “precious load” and after a good rinse with mouthwash, she sits back down on the bed and asks me:
“What do you want to do, do we do an hour or do we go? The half hour is over…”
She seems almost “disappointed” that he came so early thus seeing the opportunity to extend his time and consequently his income fade away.
“You know what?” I tell her, “Pass me a drink and relax; you’re mine for a while. Unless you have something better to do…”
A smile lights up her face once more, and she lunges at me, planting a loud, eager kiss on my lips. Then she hands me back the Martini and, curling up by my side, starts toying with the little bowling pin as we chat a bit.
The next hour and a half was one of the most satisfying experiences in my career as a playboy, no need to go into the details. The only thing I feel like sharing is that I came twice more, both times in the warm embrace of her soft and welcoming pussy. Considering that it usually takes me more than the typical half hour to finish, I’d say Beatrice definitely has something that sets my senses on fire, and there’s no doubt about that.
We return from our little porno getaway in the woods, cuddled up like lovebirds and both satisfied — me for the two hours of priceless great sex, and her for the two hours of great sex she knows she’s about to collect payment for. I settle the bill with Bea, who says goodbye by planting a long kiss on my lips and admits she finds me very pleasant. Whether that’s true or not, I can’t say for sure; what I do know is that she appreciates the cash I handed her and that she made me come like a pig. Everything else is just background noise.
I spend the remaining time wandering from one room to another, chatting with a few girls, but none of them manage to convince me to take another spin on the carousel. Besides, the experience with Bea has left me so utterly spent and satisfied that I just don’t feel like it—and even if desire pushed its way in aggressively, I probably wouldn’t have the strength for another round.
Around two in the morning, I find myself half-asleep on a lounger by the indoor pool, absentmindedly watching people pass by. The air isn’t particularly warm, but the surrounding garden has a certain fairytale charm at night. I haven’t seen the Romagna guy since—he must’ve bolted right after his performance with the porn-style brunette, his fifth round of the day at the World.
“Not bad, colleague. Not bad at all.”
Finally, I decide to call it a night. I casually look for Bea and Diana to say goodbye, but there’s no sign of them anywhere inside. “Maybe next time,” I tell myself.
Reaching the locker room and putting on my “Citizen of the Normal World” clothes, I settle the formalities at the reception desk, and go out whistling carefree.
Walking down that pathway at night, the one that links the parking lot to the club’s entrance, feels almost magical, like stepping from one universe into another. After spending a whole day inside, you don’t really want to leave, kind of like when you’re having a beautiful dream and don’t want to wake up, but you know you have to. But hey, you can’t have it all in life. Or so they say…
An hour later, I’m in my room in downtown Frankfurt, reflecting on that pathway, the voluptuous brunette and her sister, my Martini in the garden on the sand, the colleague who was busy too, Beatrice’s lustful, wet mouth, and that “little cabin in the woods.” Tomorrow it’s time to leave, and once again, the fairy tale has come to an end.
…Good night.
