Sex in the City (R rated material)

Anyone who has faithfully read my blog – anyone? – knows that Germany has a pretty laissez-faire attitude regarding sex. I have already discussed the open sex toys shops where couples ply the aisles seeking what will work best for them. I mentioned the proliferation of legal prostitution and even discussed at one time the world-famous Reeperbahn in Hamburg.

What I haven’t mentioned is that the road trip Wachter and McCurry took in my novel, McCurry’s War, didn’t originally end when, after their escapades in London, they headed on to Hamburg. My editor, in her infinite wisdom, felt the portion of their visit to Hamburg was too much like a travelogue. While she was almost always right – and in retrospect was right about this as well – this is my blog where I suppose a travelogue is permissible. So, here for your reading pleasure, is what ended up on the cutting room floor, as it were. In the book, the chapter ends when Wachter and McCurry arrive “in Hamburg in late morning, tired and dirty, and agreed to sleep the rest of the day before beginning to explore.” The following is, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.

***

                “Hamburg is like a candy store for the sex fiends of the world,” McCurry thought as he and Wachter were walking down the Reeperbahn with its world renowned brothels of every sort and price. The two had gotten a room near the Reeperbahn, showered and gotten a few hours sleep. Now refreshed, they decided to check out the area in daylight before getting something to eat. Even this early in the evening, there were small crowds around each of the houses of prostitution. Most had what appeared to McCurry as display windows in the front with two or three scantily clad ladies of the evening sitting in them. The inquisitive could talk to them through small holes in the glass, discussing costs and what they would get for their money. Some of the prostitutes were relatively attractive. Most, though, were huge with massive breasts. When prodded, a woman might pull out one of her mountains of flesh and lick her own nipple to the appreciative roar of the inebriated patrons crowding around. The more expensive establishments had no windows and very ornate front doors. A man in butler garb would answer the knock and, after a few words with the visitor, determine whether or not to allow him in.

The pair stopped at a street-corner kiosk to get an order of bratwurst for dinner and then headed for Die Grosse Freiheit — or the “Great Freedom” — which had a rich variety of live sex theaters. “This area is aptly named,” McCurry thought as he listened to the pitches of the traggers — the so-called “draggers” who often grabbed the sleeves of pedestrians as they hawked the pleasures that awaited within their establishments.

It was beginning to get dark and McCurry was curious to see just what these pleasure palaces had to offer. “What d’ya think, Horst? Ready to check one out?”

“Fine with me,” he said. “Just let me do the talking.”

To the next tragger to grasp his sleeve, Wachter asked, “How much?”

“Only 20 marks to see the greatest sex you’ll ever witness. One act even employes the services of a dog,” he leered.

“Twenty marks? Twenty marks each? Are you nuts? I’ll give you 5 marks for the two of us.”

“I can’t do that. I’d lose my job. How about 10 marks each?”

“Five marks for the two of us. Take it or leave it.”

“Give a guy a break. How about 5 marks each?”

“Five marks for the two of us. Take it or leave it.”

“All right, I’ll take it.” Wachter paid him the 10 marks and the pair entered. The first thing that struck McCurry was the brightly lit stage or, more accurately, gargantuan bed. It was about 10 feet by 10 feet and set just slightly above the bar that surrounded it. While the rest of the establishment was practically pitch dark, the stage was bathed in spotlights that changed from bright white to pale colors depending on the presentation. Patrons on the stools that lined the four-sided bar had excellent views of the couples, one of which was currently engaged in rigorous sexual intercourse. McCurry and Wachter found a pair of stools at the bar and each ordered the mandatory two-drink minimum.

“This is a little better than London, don’t you think?” Wachter asked.

“Wha? What? Oh yeah, it is, it really is.”

“If you start drooling on the bar, I’m leaving,”

Unlike the couple in London, who probably would have been more appealing fully dressed, these two were what McCurry thought of as sexual animals. Both were lean and well proportioned, the oil on their bodies glistening in the lights. The woman’s breasts were firm and her hard nipples stood out in stark relief to the milky smoothness of her skin. The man’s penis was the largest McCurry had ever witnessed, not that he saw that many in the erect state, he thought. Their lovemaking was slow and in rhythm with the music that accompanied the act. The lighting would change with each switch in positions the couple used in their repertoire. Finally, as the music reached a crescendo and the woman straddled atop the man, the two arched and let out quiet but perceptible moans, presumably indicating they had reached their own climax. As they disengaged and stood up to actually take bows to a roaring audience, McCurry noticed that at least the man hadn’t faked his conclusion.

As they were waiting for the next act to begin, a woman, clad only in an open, silky gown, sidled up behind McCurry, pressed her breasts against his back and slid her hands down to his crotch. “Ooh, I see you’re ready for some action big boy,” she cooed in his ear in perfect English. “I’ve got a room just waiting,” she added as she slowly stroked him, nearly breaking down his self-control. McCurry gently pulled her had out of his pants and indicated that he declined her offer, much to Wachter’s surprise.

“What’s the matter ‘big boy’?” Wachter asked.

“Just savin’ it for later,” McCurry replied with a grin.

As Wachter and McCurry continued to sip their drinks, the stage lights went up once again as a woman and a man with a dog on a leash walked up the ramp to the stage. The woman laid down and allowed the dog to stark sniffing and then licking her crotch.

“I don’t think I am quite up to this,” McCurry said.

“Me neither. Let’s get out of here.”

They continued walking and taking in the sights when they arrived at Herbertstrasse, an avenue that had several more brothels. One spot featured a large apartment building with what turned out to be the entrance to a maze where the parking lot would have been. Written above the entrance, in English and German, was the warning: “No juveniles allowed.”

“Let’s go in. This should be interesting,” McCurry said.

“I’m game. Lead on McDuff.”

A woman stood at each corner of the maze, ready to negotiate the cost of an evening of pleasure. Soon, McCurry and Wachter became separated. When McCurry happened on a really young, cute girl who didn’t appear to be older than the 18 required by law, he asked her how much she charged. He didn’t dicker with the price. She knew how to negotiate the maze to the building’s door where they entered and took an elevator to the floor where her room was located. Unfortunately, McCurry had had too much to drink and too little sleep to make the adventure worthwhile. At least, that is what he liked to think later, when it was over.

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