07 December 2007

At the end of a long workday, after convincing my better half that I was going skiing in the Dolomites with my friends, I warmly said goodbye to her, leaving her alone for a couple of days to spend time with her beloved Christmas decorations.
It was almost seven in the evening when I began my route to pick up the other five participants for this little adventure, and after welcoming them one by one aboard the large camper I had just picked up from the rental company, around eight o’clock on that magical Friday of the Immaculate Conception holiday, we were finally ready to depart.
Destination: North. Final destination: the Colosseum of Augsburg, in Germany.
Considering the long journey ahead, and the fact that not even ten minutes after departure, we had already emptied at least a couple of bottles of ‘random alcoholic drinks’ after several toasts, we decided along the way that it would be more sensible to spend the night in Bolzano and then continue the trip leisurely the following morning.
Our arrival in the northern town was nothing short of clumsy, to the point where I personally found myself driving the huge camper, a large seven-seater over seven meters long, into a pedestrian area in the city center while trying to find a place to park for the night. And considering the considerable size of the vehicle we were traveling in, it wasn’t exactly easy.
After half an hour of attempts, we finally managed to find a spot on the outskirts, in a parking lot not too far from the nightlife spots and the center, as well as in an area frequented by ‘working girls’ until the first light of dawn.
Heading back towards the center, this time on foot, we managed to find a nightclub that wasn’t bad at all, and the evening continued at this venue where, for the occasion, we got a table and an unspecified number of bottles of various types of alcohol. To be honest, we didn’t even order anything too expensive, but it did attract some attention from the two whores who gladly stopped by our little oasis. I particularly remember two local girls, dressed in a very provocative way, who took turns trying to get a drink from me, approaching me rather directly. In such a situation, this behavior, combined with their obvious tendency to flirt, could have led to a more explicit attempt at approaching. However, in this case, it was simply a confirmation of how women can also be very pervs, just as much as men, except that they often need a bit of alcohol and the atmosphere of a nightclub to let it come out.
Later, around four in the morning, after having fun with the aforementioned local sows and downing an indefinable amount of alcohol, we managed to track down good old Danilo, who had hidden somewhere making out with a local girl, and the dazed Gianni, who was aimlessly wandering the club holding a pineapple and a half-empty glass. So, we decided to head back to base, the camper parked in that parking lot among the ‘working girls.
Marco, Filippo, and I, with a poker face worthy of an Oscar, managed to steal a taxi from some local guys who had called it for themselves, while the other half of the group, Roberto, Gianni, and Danilo, decided to walk back. But on their way, they stopped for about an hour at a nightclub. They didn’t manage to accomplish much, but their blood alcohol level took another spike, and we finally went to sleep around six in the morning, just as the ‘working girls’ were finishing their shift and the sun was almost about to announce the new day…
I opened my eyes around 11:30 on Saturday morning. Filippo was the only one already awake, and while the others were blissfully sleeping in their bunks, we went to grab a coffee at a nearby bar, giving the slightly tipsy dreamers a little more time to recover from the hectic night before.
An hour later, after making the beds and partially cleaning up the chaos that had erupted in the camper due to the nighttime confusion, we were finally back on the road. After reassuring our respective significant others with a phone call home and enjoying a stop in Austria for a snack at a charming inn just beyond the Italian border, we quickly arrived in Germany. Here, the decision to travel by camper was once again proven to be a good one, because due to an accident, we were stuck in traffic for over an hour. During that time, we improvised a game of briscola and managed to finish off the remaining alcohol we had on board. Finally, after much hassle, by around six in the evening, we had arrived at the long-awaited and mystical Holy Grail of the “Topa”—the Colosseum of Augsburg.
I remember perfectly that in the two months prior, I had spent hours and hours gathering information from every possible source about what exactly went on inside this place, and even though I had never been there before, I knew practically everything there was to know. But theory is one thing and practice is another, so not being yet accustomed to such pleasure oases, everything seemed too good to be true, and I still had a little doubt about the accuracy of the information I had gathered. My travel companions, however, were even more skeptical and hesitant than I was.
As the organizer behind the scenes of that trip, I had vaguely informed them about the dynamics of that brothel, but they still didn’t have all the information I had gathered by then. As a result, they still had that legitimate doubt that made them hesitate when it was time to get out of the camper and enter the venue. After a few minutes spent trying to convince them that everything would be as it should be, I finally said: ‘I’m going, who’s coming?’
Only Marco volunteered for the triumphant entrance; the others decided to wait for news from us, meaning we had to call them if, once inside, the situation was as expected. If not, they would see us leave shortly.
In fact, looking back now, years later and with the experiences I’ve had since then, it makes me smile a bit. But I clearly remember that at the time, as determined and eager as I was to see if this so-called paradise of women actually existed, I had some doubts myself.
Anyway, between one thought and another, I found myself ringing the bell at the entrance of the Colosseum. Although, from the outside, it didn’t exactly look very inviting. It was just another warehouse, like so many others in that industrial area on the outskirts, and only the row of cars parked along the street made me think that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many people…” I thought, trying to reassure myself.
A moment later, the sharp Clack of the gate’s lock invited us in.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, the first thing that caught our eyes was the sight of a beautiful naked blondie, speaking in German with a middle-aged woman behind the reception desk. In a split second, all doubt was swept away by that heavenly vision (the blonde, not the middle-aged woman, of course), and everything suddenly seemed much better. But as further confirmation of the local “wildlife,” a second naked girl came out from a door to our right, with a body to die for; and while the lady was diligently explaining the house rules, a third one emerged, also a model, dressed only in her smooth skin and a pair of high-heeled shoes.
At that point, the priority had become to pass through that door as quickly as possible, where these naked angels were coming from.
As expected, the receptionist’s instructions only confirmed what I already knew in every detail. It was then fairly easy to absorb those few rules and bid the kind lady farewell, before heading to the changing rooms and immediately placing our old clothes in the lockers. After donning only the towels wrapped around our waists, we were finally ready to pass through the last obstacle separating us from the long-awaited paradise. A moment of excitement. A deep breath. The door opened…

For all I know, I think I stood there gaping like a fool for at least five minutes. I couldn’t see myself, but my brave companion in adventure had that expression on his face, so I guess mine was the same. I had never seen so many young and beautiful naked girls all together, and what’s more, these were there specifically to satisfy our desires in exchange for an insignificant, in that context, fifty euro note. …I had never been to Disneyland when I was little, I wanted to go so much, but that wish never came true. But now the time had come for redemption, I had finally reached what seemed to be Disneyland for adults. And I couldn’t wait to get on the rides… As soon as we recovered from that initial slight sense of euphoric confusion, we remembered that we hadn’t gotten this far alone, so we quickly explored the large open space under the bewitching eyes of the girls who were aiming at us as if we were moving targets, then we went back to the lockers to call that handful of cowards who had remained outside in the camper, who would have joined us about ten minutes later. In the meantime, we decided to wait for the latecomers by settling down on one of the beds placed near the entrance door of the room inside the club. I wanted to see their faces well when they entered. I continued to look around and I couldn’t help but smile that stupid smile of someone who felt happy and satisfied, because after an interminable wait and infinite doubts, I now knew that place really existed, and it was exactly as I imagined it. And if I hadn’t been busy drooling like a hyena at the sight of so many young beauties, I would have even been moved by the emotion. There are relatively few customers besides us and everywhere I look there are naked girls, at least thirty in total. And I’m not dreaming! Brunettes and blondes, blacks and orientals, big natural tits and fake dolls, there’s only the embarrassment of choice and it’s enough to lose your mind. Finally our heroes arrive, who adorned with towels and regulation slippers make their triumphal entrance. As expected and predictable, as soon as they realize where they are, the expressions on their faces take on the classic look of a jaw dropped to the floor, that mix of amazement, disbelief and euphoria that I think anyone who finds themselves in a place like this for the first time has felt. And while my buddy and I are dying of laughter enjoying the scene as privileged spectators, at a certain point our friends see us and between a laugh and a jeer the little company reunites again. Thus begins the “hunting season”, although I honestly can’t yet say exactly who the prey and who the hunters are. For at least ten minutes I remain looking around for what could be the best option according to my tastes, but then I realize that I can’t make a decision. There are too many and I would do almost all of them. Luckily one of the girls comes to sit on a sofa nearby. A beautiful, slender brunette, with thick, long raven hair and eyes as dark as night, few breasts, but a little ass that speaks. So I decide that she will be the one to introduce me to this new lustful world, and I go to meet her. Anda, this is her stage name, comes from Romania, she speaks a little English and understands a few words of Italian, but she gets by very well with Spanish and by mixing the various languages ​​indiscriminately we understand each other perfectly. I let her know that it is my first time and I ask her if she can explain to me how things work in there, then she shows me all the various entertainment options that the place offers and the menu related to the in-room services, proving to be a precious and patient guide. After that I ask her if she can give me a practical demonstration of the services she has just listed, and without having to be asked twice she agrees and accompanies me up the long spiral staircase that leads directly to the second floor where the rooms are. As I climbed that long staircase I was very excited. Now that many years and a myriad of experiences have passed since that first climb up the stairs, even this thought makes me smile, but back then everything was so fantastic and surreal that it aroused unique and unrepeatable emotions, and the mere fact of having a beautiful stranger at my disposal, who, parading completely naked up those steps, was taking me to a warm and welcoming room to fulfill all my sexual desires, was something absolutely new and wonderfully incredible.
Once we enter the room, not knowing exactly how to behave, I feel strangely awkward; Anda notices it immediately and tries to put me at ease by taking the initiative with kisses and rubbing her beautiful body on mine, then she asks me what I want and the first thing that comes to mind at that moment is: «Rape me!» She immediately shows off a mocking smile, invites me to lie down on the bed, then nonchalantly does her job admirably and satisfies my request, especially when after almost twenty minutes I ask her to get on all fours on the bed, or as we say in my area “a pecora”, then immediately after having put the Regal Augello back warm inside her, I start banging her again nonstop and she immediately turns around annoyed:
“You’re standing still, you said I have to rape you. I’ll take care of it!”, he jokingly scolds me. At which point I stopped, remaining with the shaft firmly planted in that lustful and enveloping slit, curious to know what the beautiful Daughter of Count Vlad had in mind. A moment later she was centrifuging my cock with a hip movement worthy of the best Brazilian samba dancer. And it was a beautiful thing! Needless to say, in a couple of minutes or so I reached the end of the line with no small satisfaction, then collapsing on the bed in contemplation of that girl who had made me enjoy so much. At that moment I was thinking that I had just experienced my own personal porn film and that it would only cost me fifty disgusting euros, which is very little compared to what I had just received. An immense internal smile finally illuminated my thoughts, I had just discovered the most beautiful place in the world, or at least for me it was…

Going down the long spiral staircase, clinging to that warm gazelle that had pleasantly entertained me as well as raped me, I had the opportunity to better observe what was happening down there. Some Teutonic polar bears were resting on the numerous available beds scattered throughout the large hall, others were bivouacking at the bar drinking or chatting with the girls and still others were occupying the jacuzzi or cooling off in the pool, also in the company of the young ladies. There was even a well-built guy, in his late forties, with what I would call, with a pinch of healthy envy, “a really nice cock,” who was enjoying a majestic blowjob performed by a beautiful black girl while sitting comfortably on a sofa placed almost in the center of the room, thus inevitably attracting the attention of those present, including my traveling companions, who camped on the other side of the room and were enjoying that unexpected live porn movie, all except one, and it was the same one who had accompanied me as a scout at the beginning, that is, Marco. He too had climbed up the stairs shortly after me with a young lady, and had not yet completed his first round.
Once on the ground, I rush to the changing room and retrieve the cash from the locker, settle the bill with Anda, who greets me with a kiss, and after a quick hot shower, I join the group in the lounge.
The four cowards immediately come to ask me how the first half hour went, all anxious and hesitant in search of answers, then after having confirmation of the goodness of the treatment received they throw themselves into the fray, and first Gianni, and then Roberto, head towards the stairway to heaven with their angels of pleasure. The other two, however, still don’t move.
Filippo will decide to take the field only at the end of the evening, granting himself a whole hour with an extra expense to use the “Anal” service in the company of a thirty-year-old who, as he will define her later, was “So, so, so, so slutty!”.
Danilo, on the other hand, will be the only one not to take home even a single point, remaining all evening on the sidelines dozing on a sunbed with which at the end of the day he seemed to have entered into symbiosis. We will later find out that at the time he did not feel comfortable with whores, but for the record I must say that later he also fully earned his good title of honorary whore-monger.
Anyway, without wanting to be repetitive and redundant I could sum it all up by saying that the long evening flew by in an instant and among so many new things to learn, a couple of drinks and another couple of fucks, I unfortunately found the first Missile of my career as a whore-monger. I no longer remember her name but it doesn’t matter, she was also a Draculina (a nickname commonly used to define Romanian girls in brothels) with the classic model body and two wonderful and shining blue eyes set in a slightly angular but very pleasant face.
I remember that I was undecided whether to do the last round with her or with Vivienne called “the Kazakh”, an institution there at the Colosseum as well as a girl with an uncommon sensuality. In the end, however, the Kazaka was taken away by another customer, so my choice fell on the mocking Missile. In truth, I must admit that as soon as we got to the room, she had started off pretty well, showing off some pretty impressive oral art, but unfortunately after the first ten minutes she began to get agitated and urge me to finish quickly, which made me nervous and led me to end the half hour well in advance so as not to throw away the fifty I had run over, but without much satisfaction and with a performance far removed from the two previous ones that same evening that was now coming to an end. Luckily, that episode didn’t manage to ruin my day, that was practically impossible by now.
In the end, we left the place late at night, when the last of the girls present was leaving, and returning to our camper, exhausted but euphoric, we commented on that fabulous experience, already thinking about when we could repeat it; maybe in the same period of the following year.
I turned my gaze one last time in the direction of that warehouse. It was so anonymous in the darkness of the night that it seemed like one of the many factories around it, yet inside it held a wonderful secret, a world that until then I had only imagined in my most daring and imaginative erotic dreams.
I reached my cot and let myself fall gently on the mattress. I closed my eyes trying to savor every moment of that day while the others discussed whether to leave immediately for Italy or wait for the first light of dawn to set off. A moment later I let myself be kidnapped by Morpheus who lulled me into a deep and blissful sleep that perhaps I had not found since I was a child. When I opened my eyes again it was already day and the camper was parked in a service area just beyond the Italian border; those madmen had driven all night to be able to return home early. Better that way, I was too exhausted to do it. A hearty breakfast refreshed the body, while the spirit, sensing the return to Italian soil was already suffering the first symptoms of the infamous “Fkk withdrawal”, and in fact the euphoria of the night before was already fading and we were all ready to resume our place in the land of bigots, bringing with us however that experience that in one way or another would influence our ideas about the world of the so-called Trombodromi.
…And perhaps not only on that.