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Flashback

  • 10th Anniversary: The sci-fi women of FHM (2001)

    Looking through some old magazines I'd nearly forgotten I had, I'm reminded of how much time has passed since the publication of this issue of FHM (US edition, July/August 2001). It's been 10 years!

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    Photo courtesy of Who's Dated Who
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    Photo courtesy of roxanndawson.net
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    Photo courtesy of Free Wallpapers desktop
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    Photos courtesy of fanpost.com
  • Flashback: Mandy. The farewell.

    Racy Redhead.jpgRed wine and a chilly spring day
    I bought a bottle of red wine. And a card to go with it. It was a crisp Saturday afternoon and I was going to show my appreciation to Mandy.

    It was the third and last time I would be seeing her (see here for the first).

    That afternoon started out like almost any other afternoon. It was a crisp spring day, and the weather was a bit too chilly for my liking.

    After lunch, I had called her to make an appointment. It was nearly as easy as making one with my dentist, except that I don't sleep with my dentist (and pay her for it), and I could get my appointment faster.

    A trip to the wine seller's was next in order.

    I chose I red wine...it's good for the heart, and nothing to do with Mandy being a redhead. There was some celebrating to do; or rather, it was a farewell. I was leaving the country for good, and it would be the last time I saw Mandy. She would also be the last working girl I saw before I left. That should count for something.

    So I got the wine. I hoped she would like it - both my gesture and the wine. It was my third and last time seeing her.

    Red wine, red hair
    She opened the door wearing a dress with little sequin-like decorations; the dress was a v-neck, sleeveless, bluish-grey and slightly 'shiney' one that came to just above her knees. She looked great.susan.jpg

    She was pleasantly surprised with my gift. We had some of the wine, and chatted. Very soon we moved to the bedroom, where we put our wine glasses down and I took a shower. We chatted some more after that, only having very short pauses in conversation for me to remove the little clothes she still had on - she was only in her bra and panties when I got out of the shower.

    I was in no rush, so we sipped wine and talked, lying down facing each other and touching one another. I kissed her neck, shoulders and breasts, savouring each moment. She didn't reciprocate that much but that was fine; her skin had its usual smoothness - waxed, creamed, or both, I never asked how.

    Every now and then I would cuddle up to her as we talked. She was as tall as me and even bigger boned, so it seemed natural that I did that. We talked about my life back home, her day job, and other things. Mostly it was inconsequential stuff, but it interesting nonetheless.

    Then we started, slowly, to have sex.

    Farewell
    I wouldn't say'make love'. There were not enough feelings or real affection between us for that. She still kept her professional escort's distance, and I know enough to be realistic about such things. But I enjoy her company and I think she enjoys our conversations, so we made a good 'professional' fit.

    But it was nice sex. We started with kissing for the first time - "I didn't know that you kiss," I said, to which she replied, "I didn't know that you kissed," - and then licking one another. I gradually became hard, she put a condom on and started to suck me. It was long before I was hard and she got on top of me. I sat up, grabbed her buttocks, hips, waist, back, cradling my head in between her breasts.

    She rode me till I came. Afterward, we lay in one another's arms, and talked some more. I felt almost sorry that I wouldn't be able to see her again as I was leaving the country for good soon, but it felt good being with her for the last time.

    It was a cold evening outside by the time I left. But inside I was feeling warmed to the heart.

  • Flashback: The tanned Milf

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    I can't recall when we actually got on the bed, but we were still talking for a bit; until we touched one another, and were still talking until we lay down and started necking.

    ********

    The day started out like any other. Which is to say, normally. I woke up, brushed my teeth and washed my face, and made myself a coffe. Then I made breakfast, made small talk with my flatmates, and watched a bit of telly. Later I took a shower, and wondered what I would do for lunch.

    ********

    She was brunette; a German native who had settled in the country some time ago. I told her I liked her "mixed" accent; it was understandable and interesting. She replied that she liked mine, and asked where I was from. At this time I had just finished my shower, and we chatted while taking our turns in the bathroom. When she came out, she was dressed only in a pair of black thong panties.

    ********

    I was looking for work then, so I had time to kill. When I felt that I'd made enough work-application calls for the day, I looked into some other newspaper classifieds, and decided to call someone who was advertised there as part of a 'stable' of girls. I'd tried their services before, although that first time was not an especially memorable experience. After seeing the ad on this other lady, I wanted to give them another chance.

    ********

    She was petite, slim, tanned and athletic-looking; the black thong wasn't exactly a nice contrast on her, but she looked nice in it. We felt pretty relaxed in the apartment as we spoke to one another, and this created a nice atmosphere.

    ********

    I called them, and arranged - with the lady who handled the calls - a time to be at the apartment. And so I went. And I knocked on her door.

    ********

    We continued chatting. She told me about her ten-year-old kid who liked spending time on the beach, and the large island offshore that she took him to every summer. She also told me about how she only did this work occasionally, when she needed some extra income. (I can't recall if she said she did any other job.) It was a pretty interesting conversation, although we didn't get too much into her personal life.

    ********

    "Hello, how are you?"
    "I'm good, thanks. And you?"

    The pleasantries may seem mundane, but they were a part of everyday life here. And it was the normal way of greeting someone when meeting for the first time. It didn't make a difference even though it was a client-service provider transaction. It was probably more important, in such a relationship and setting, to establish an amicable, easy-going rapport.

    ********

    I don't remember how long we made out. I remember kissing her all over a lot, enjoying the feel of her tanned skin. Then, as we were lying down, her in my arms, I reached down and snuck my hand into her thong (she still had it on) and between her legs. In turn her hand went for my erect cock...

    ********

    I liked her right away. She was a pleasant-looking Milf (mother I love to f***) and her disposition seemed to be genuinely warm. We started chatting.

    ********

    ...and I stopped her.

    "No," I said. "Not yet."
    "Why?"
    "I haven't decided...what I...want to do yet..."

    She laughed; a deep throaty laugh that I wasn't used to, but wasn't unpleasant.
    "Alright...we'll see."

    ********

    We got on so well, at least superficially, that at some level I nearly forgot about eventually having sex with her. As I stripped down and headed to the bathroom for my shower, we continued our conversation. Then she mentioned my accent.

    ********

    I pulled her on top of me - the second time I did so - and licked at her breasts and nipples (again). Then we turned over and I was on top, working my way down. Finally I could take it no longer, and pulled at her thong...

    ********

    Some say that certain people's voices are a turn-on. In this case it may have been the accents - hers and mine. I really wanted her then. At some point she knew what I wanted, when I wanted it. She took my hand, and led me to the bedroom.

    ********

    ...which came down her hips, past her knees, and off past her ankles. And I grabbed her bare hips and wedged myself between her legs. As gently as I could, I entered her, and pumped - once, twice, a third time, and continued...

    ********

    It was one of those ordinary days. But it was not every day I got to make love to a tanned, accomodating, pleasant Milf who spoke with a nice accent, and who had an interesting story to tell about herself. 'Working ladies' come from all walks of life, and you had to respect that. It was something that took me a few years to experience and understand after such encounters.

  • Flashback: Bulgarian rubdown

    da0fc3c5c128977321cae0e55f86790d.jpg(No, not shakedown. It wasn't a typo or error in meaning.)

    "I only provide oil massage, with my full body. If you want sex, you're calling the wrong girl okay? You can try somewhere else for that," said the low, husky female voice with an accent at the other end of the line.

    It took me a while to get to her place, which she had advertised as the venue for her very specific service - body-to-body oil massage with her clothes completely or partially off, and relief at the end, with absolutely no sex involved. I got her point on the phone, loud and clear.

    Tanya greeted me at the door in heels and a figure-hugging short dress that flattered her. She had black hair and was nicely-tanned (I suspect, at a tanning salon). As we introduced ourselves, and after she made sure I was who I said I was, she beckoned me to follow her to her room. On the way there I caught a glimpse of her co-worker (and flatmate) in the living room, and whom apparently also provided similar services.  

    I should be more precise when I mentioned 'accent' earlier; what I meant was that Elena had an accent that was not local. She was Bulgarian and had been in the country for nearly a year. It was just an interesting talking to her as it was to strip off, lie down on a heated portion of the bed, and let her start ministering to me with her already-warmed hands. This was something I haven't done, or had it done to me, in a long while. 

    It was winter at the time, and the contrast with the outside was pretty tangible. At that moment, it was all good. 

    "Do you want me to take everything off, or leave some things on?" she asked as she stepped out of her dress. 

    "I dunno...what do you normally do?"

    "It's up to the customer. Some like everything off, some prefer me in my lingerie."

    I decided that I wanted her to keep her panties on, and she did just that. The bikini panties was crimson. It was in a very nice cut, and a nice shade of colour. Her breasts were medium-sized and looked firm, well within range of preference. 

    As she massaged me, she gradually opened up to me about how she arrived in this cold and damp Australasian-antipodean city. I think her home country is somewhat similar, but still more pleasant in other ways. But anyway. 

    So. A result of a match-making agency arrangement turned sour. Or a falling out of personalities and irreconciliable differences in expectations. Or something else darker, maybe. Whatever it really was, Tanya was now bereft of her Kiwi ex-husband but didn't seem too upset about it. She was now alone in the country, without family and giving sexual massages while looking for something better. (She had formal training in some field of work but I forgot what it was.)

    There was a book in English by her bedside, and we talked a bit about reading, books, literature and learning English. I gave her the name of a Bulgarian-born writer who was about her age (late 20s-early 30s) and making waves in the local and European modern literary scene. She was a little intrigued and said she would check her out. 

    I found Tanya easy to talk to, in spite of any perceived cultural differences or language barriers. I had to admit that her accent only enhanced my experience of oil being rubbed all over me, stark naked, first with her hands, then with her breasts. I won't pretend that she genuinely liked me, but we had a good rapport and she had a first-class customer service attitude.  

    Eventually she asked me to turn over. When her hands started to fondle my erect penis, then smartly snapped on a condom and rolled it over, then proceeded with her lips and mouth to suck on me, it took quite an effort to control myself.

    "May I touch you?" I asked.

    "Sure."

    There was no help for it, and I'm glad she gave me the go-ahead. So I put my hands on her sides and back while she continued sucking and made all the right noises. Even in my horny and semi-delirious state, I could tell she was putting in good effort and fully taking me into her mouth. I gripped her a bit tighter, feeling her smooth tanned skin beneath mine, her svelte body fleshy and real in all the right places. 

    And then I came, while Tanya made coming noises with me. As I shuddered my pleasure, the aroma of massage oil became sharper even as I started to cool off. But I didn't care. I was a happy chappie. 

    When I left shortly after, I wished Tanya all the best. I never saw her again; in fact she stopped advertising in the papers not too long after my visit. She might've found a better line of work, or even left the city or country.

    Whatever happened to her, I hope she's well and taking care of herself, if she's not also still taking care of others as a service provider. And giving first-class Bulgarian rubdowns. 

  • Flashback: 21, blonde student, nice, sweet adult.

    The young woman who advertised herself as a 21-year-old blonde lived in an apartment building on a gentle slope that ran down to the harbour area.

    I was buzzed into the building after I confirmed my name and time of appointment, and as I stood in the lift, I thought back briefly on our conversation over the phone. Two conversations, actually. The first was my initial call to inquire about her rates and obtain a brief introduction of her. She also said that she had to go to the bank and was wondering if she could call me back later to confirm when or even if she could make an appointment with me. The second conversation was when she called back later that day.

    The appointment was made.

    She answered the door in a satin blouse and a short skirt. What she wore related to her ad in the papers...something to the effect of looking good in satin and skirts. She was petite and on the voluptuous side, had a sweet smile, and looked happy that I kept the apppoinment. I was sold.

    Nicole (not her real name, obviously) ushered me in and offered me a drink. It was a relatively warm day and I gladly accepted a glass of cold water. We started to chat and bit by bit, I found out a bit more about her; student at one of the local universities, much of the nice stuff in the apartment owned by her boyfriend (...yup). She was studying science with a major in some kind of specialist biological science. We chatted a bit about that.

    It occurred to me that she was quite smart. And intelligent. Now we just had to work on our chemistry. (Alright...sorry for the bad pun.)

    It didn't take long for me to be shown to the shower and after I finished, nearly dried up with my towel around my waist. Nicole was already wrapped in a towel of her own, around her delectable self; any feelings of arousal I had just increased at the sight of her. It didn't hurt that she was smiling at me, a nice sweet smile too. It was almost as if she really liked me.

    Of course, it didn't really matter.

    young blonde.jpgNot when the rest of the time was a blur...but a nice one. I remember the room she showed me to. There were two, and I had a feeling that this one was mostly for first-timers to her services. I remember her voluptuousness and softness, and her willingness to accomodate me (but I honestly wasn't demanding). I remember kissing her breasts as I came, her scent enveloping me as she moaned.  

    The chemistry was definitely there.

    She was so sweet that she even showered with me and rubbed me down. (I'm tempted to say, "Now that's what I call service!" It's become a cliche statement, but in this it was true.)

    I left her apartment that afternoon, not just another satisfied customer, but a satisfied man because of the attentions of a sweet, smart university student who was working as an escort...but I suspected that regardless of what she did in life, she would go far.

  • Flashback: the redhead

    aaRedheadRealMn.jpgI didn't know what to expect when I knocked on her door. I guess neither did she. But she sounded nice over the phone; sexy with just a touch of huskiness. And very polite too. I asked her the basic questions, and very soon I was sold (or rather, she was, depending on your point of view).

    Ending up on her doorstep, I rang the bell and waited. Amanda (aka Mandy) opened it. She was wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved blouse and figure-hugging black pants. She smiled when she saw me, and I smiled back, not only to be friendly, but also because she was just what she described herself to me: a very attractive, long-haired redhead. A voluptuous body. Nice tits.

    I followed her up the flight of stairs that led directly from the door to the lounge, and from there another flight leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. It was a cosy apartment. Mandy showed me the bedroom that we would use, and asked that I place her fee on the bedside table, which I promptly did. Then I was directed to the bathroom, alone, to take a shower.

    (I like the before-bedroom-action shower routine. I can't understand why some guys who pay for hookers or escorts refuse or don't shower before having sex with them. I mean, you'd think clients would like to get themselves cleaned up before bonking these women who sleep with a whole bunch of men for a living or half a living. This is of course with the understanding that the girls keep themselves washed and freshened up too. When both parties do it, the stage is usually set for an enjoyable experience, at least from a hygiene point of view.)

    After a warm shower, I came out with a towel wrapped around my waist and feeling good about myself; I was looking forward to shagging a good-looking woman I'd never been with before, or indeed, never even seen before this day. Such is the joy of seeing paid companions. And imagine my mild but discernible joy when I walked toward the bedroom, the door not fully opened but well enough to reveal Mandy standing by the bed, dressed in a black teddy and waiting for me (it's also standard procedure, I believe, for some girls to get showered up before their clients arrive, so I had no worries).

    Mandy was smiling and as I went near her, she was also smelling very nice. In one deft motion and in no time at all, she slipped her teddy off and led me to the bed. She was fully shaven, so I couldn't tell if she was a natural redhead or not. Actually I honestly did not care at that point, but I remembered how smooth and soft her skin was. She really took care of it well. And she was a nicely-voluptuous female specimen of the human race. Not skinny at all, and fleshy in all the right places without even being plump, and slightly shorter than me. She was also bigger-boned, and so bigger-sized than me, but I didn't find that a problem. If truth be told, I recalled being turned on by it, and anticipating my 'climbing' all over and exploring her like an eager boy scout.

    We made small talk, and I found out that she was around my age. Before long, we proceeded to business.

    It was an enjoyable business. I took my time enjoying her and her body, filling my senses with the touch and fragrance of her cheeks, earlobes, neck, breasts, nipples, abdomen, buttocks and vagina. She gave me a fairly decent covered BJ, but not to conclusion. Finally I tried a position - not BDSM or anything remotely kinky - I'd never tried before with anybody, and Mandy seemed to like it a lot. I was still in her, slowly winding down, when she told me, "You'll make some women very happy, you know that?", after she recovered enough to get some air redhead02.jpgto speak. Why, thanks Mandy...really appreciate the vote of confidence! It was the first time an escort had told me such a thing, and I don't know if she was telling me the truth of how she felt, but it was strangely, pleasantly uplifting.

    It would be remiss of me if I didn't mention that Mandy had a flexi-hour day job that was very different from escorting, was a voracious book reader, and rather intelligent (I know this may sound condescending to some people, but this is both a factual observation and a compliment to Mandy). Over the course of time I would find out a bit more about her.

    And as it would turn out, although I didn't see her exclusively or frequently, Mandy would become my favourite working gal during that period of time, giving me some much-needed warmth in that windy and chilly Australasian city.