Losing Virginity On the Deuce: 42 St in the 70s
I Gave My Love a Cherry
Well, not exactly.
How does one go about losing their virginity? Not by plan or choice as far as I know…but I don’t know everything about everything, although I’d like to say that I do.
Remember my sojourns to the 42nd street X-rated theaters described earlier? Well, it all began there. Back in the 70s, skinny women in hot pants would hand out flyers alongside scum of the earth alcoholics and the like. These flyers were usually printed in black and white, or on single colored sheets of paper announcing massage parlors. I’d never been in one, seen it depicted in the movies dozens of times in both R-rated and hardcore sex flicks, but this one night, after seeing a particularly hot double or triple bill (I forget which) I looked at the flyer and walked the three streets to 47th.
This spot, was hidden on a side street between 8th Avenue and Broadway. There was a narrow doorway and some signage that said what I was looking for was on the 2nd floor. Once I got there, there was this big, hulking Latin dude who was like the bouncer/security type. He looked me over and decided I most likely wouldn’t be any trouble and told me to go through the door down the hall. When I did, I felt like I was in way over my head, but about to enter a world of craziness.
When I opened the door, there were several couches and love seats all around. About ten women were sitting in them, all in lingerie. White, black, Latin, you’re pick and your choice, apparently. The white girls here looked like skinny skanks, the black girls didn’t really pay attention, but the Latin mamas? That’s an entirely different story. They’d blow kisses at you, and call you cute names. I choose a mature, busty woman. I don’t remember her name today, but the experience was one you would not forget so I’ll call her #1. She led me to a tiny room with a bed, a nightstand, and a round water basin. There were also jars of lube, paper towels and tissues on the nightstand.
She asked me what I wanted, and since I was in a daze, I found my usually articulate self, inarticulate. I got naked, so did she. She didn’t have such a bad body after all, especially for her age, and her large breasts hung nicely outside the lingerie. #1 proceeded to wash my junk with the basin water, which was slightly soapy, and then took some tissues and did the same to herself. I put on a condom and got on the bed.
Once on the bed, I guess she sensed it was my first time. So she called me “baby” took off the condom, gave me an uncovered blowjob (which was memorable) and then she spread her legs and said to fuck her, and I did. I liked this hot mature Hispanic woman, and all it cost was $13 for the house, so feeling guilty, I gave her $15 for herself.
I went back to this spot a few times, and asked for the same woman, and each time our routine was played out just like before. And then, I went to the spot one day and was told she left, and probably would not be back.
I visited quite a few of these places over the years. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet I had Asian (which in my later years had become a preference), but in these days, they were more often than not, super skinny, and not into you getting off unless it was fast, and outta there. Black girls were playful, but wanted higher tips. White girls were interesting to talk to, but then again, they usually are, but so skinny back in the day. I recall once fucking this skinny but hot brunette for a really long time, and the house bouncer/security dude started banging on the door. “What’s going on in there?” and the girl I was banging said “a few more minutes.” Back in the day, I could fuck for hours, but somewhere along the way, they started putting time limits on these places.
On occasion, I would go with a friend or two to visit these places. Since I’d already been, I knew which ones were safe. One time Steve and I went to a place in the mid-50s, off of eight avenue, in a building which had an elevator (right away a bad sign in case you had to run). The parlor was actually an apartment with chubby mature Latin women, and one or two dudes sitting around on couches. They offered me a beer while my friend fucked a woman in one room, behind a folding screen. I declined an offer to fuck, even a free one, and left waiting outside.
And then it seemed, all at once all the best spots were closing, and new ones appearing. Sometimes, two or three new places would open in a week, but they would disappear soon enough. The few nice girls that made you feel special were now long gone, replaced with (usually) strung out harridans and chicks so thin you can feel their bones inside when you’re fucking (yes, I will get to my anorexic third wife later in this book).
It was also around this time that I felt I should get a girlfriend. Little did I know years later, I would be paying for my high sex drive with a serious of bad choices, bad relationships.
Well, not exactly.
How does one go about losing their virginity? Not by plan or choice as far as I know…but I don’t know everything about everything, although I’d like to say that I do.
Remember my sojourns to the 42nd street X-rated theaters described earlier? Well, it all began there. Back in the 70s, skinny women in hot pants would hand out flyers alongside scum of the earth alcoholics and the like. These flyers were usually printed in black and white, or on single colored sheets of paper announcing massage parlors. I’d never been in one, seen it depicted in the movies dozens of times in both R-rated and hardcore sex flicks, but this one night, after seeing a particularly hot double or triple bill (I forget which) I looked at the flyer and walked the three streets to 47th.
This spot, was hidden on a side street between 8th Avenue and Broadway. There was a narrow doorway and some signage that said what I was looking for was on the 2nd floor. Once I got there, there was this big, hulking Latin dude who was like the bouncer/security type. He looked me over and decided I most likely wouldn’t be any trouble and told me to go through the door down the hall. When I did, I felt like I was in way over my head, but about to enter a world of craziness.
When I opened the door, there were several couches and love seats all around. About ten women were sitting in them, all in lingerie. White, black, Latin, you’re pick and your choice, apparently. The white girls here looked like skinny skanks, the black girls didn’t really pay attention, but the Latin mamas? That’s an entirely different story. They’d blow kisses at you, and call you cute names. I choose a mature, busty woman. I don’t remember her name today, but the experience was one you would not forget so I’ll call her #1. She led me to a tiny room with a bed, a nightstand, and a round water basin. There were also jars of lube, paper towels and tissues on the nightstand.
She asked me what I wanted, and since I was in a daze, I found my usually articulate self, inarticulate. I got naked, so did she. She didn’t have such a bad body after all, especially for her age, and her large breasts hung nicely outside the lingerie. #1 proceeded to wash my junk with the basin water, which was slightly soapy, and then took some tissues and did the same to herself. I put on a condom and got on the bed.
Once on the bed, I guess she sensed it was my first time. So she called me “baby” took off the condom, gave me an uncovered blowjob (which was memorable) and then she spread her legs and said to fuck her, and I did. I liked this hot mature Hispanic woman, and all it cost was $13 for the house, so feeling guilty, I gave her $15 for herself.
I went back to this spot a few times, and asked for the same woman, and each time our routine was played out just like before. And then, I went to the spot one day and was told she left, and probably would not be back.
I visited quite a few of these places over the years. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet I had Asian (which in my later years had become a preference), but in these days, they were more often than not, super skinny, and not into you getting off unless it was fast, and outta there. Black girls were playful, but wanted higher tips. White girls were interesting to talk to, but then again, they usually are, but so skinny back in the day. I recall once fucking this skinny but hot brunette for a really long time, and the house bouncer/security dude started banging on the door. “What’s going on in there?” and the girl I was banging said “a few more minutes.” Back in the day, I could fuck for hours, but somewhere along the way, they started putting time limits on these places.
On occasion, I would go with a friend or two to visit these places. Since I’d already been, I knew which ones were safe. One time Steve and I went to a place in the mid-50s, off of eight avenue, in a building which had an elevator (right away a bad sign in case you had to run). The parlor was actually an apartment with chubby mature Latin women, and one or two dudes sitting around on couches. They offered me a beer while my friend fucked a woman in one room, behind a folding screen. I declined an offer to fuck, even a free one, and left waiting outside.
And then it seemed, all at once all the best spots were closing, and new ones appearing. Sometimes, two or three new places would open in a week, but they would disappear soon enough. The few nice girls that made you feel special were now long gone, replaced with (usually) strung out harridans and chicks so thin you can feel their bones inside when you’re fucking (yes, I will get to my anorexic third wife later in this book).
It was also around this time that I felt I should get a girlfriend. Little did I know years later, I would be paying for my high sex drive with a serious of bad choices, bad relationships.
5 years ago
