London

[Murilloa]

from peter st., old compton st. is just around the corner. this classic bohemian thoroughfare boasts plenty of restaurants and sex shops, including one of the only places in england where you can buy viagra (at an exorbitant £10 for 100mg) across the counter. sadly, the street has been invaded, occupied, and settlement-colonised by our homosexual brothers, and if (shudder) you like unhygienic no-longer-youthful men with shaved heads and grimy piercings under their worn leathers, you have reached nirvana. there is one famous walk-up at the far end, number 4, where black goddess ritzy has pleasured many a punter, and new romanian andra is making a name for herself.

walking e., old compton st. is intersected by dean st., frith st. and greek st. in each of these, there are a couple of walkups, with another off dean street, in bateman street. pause at 28 dean st. to admire the plaque to karl marx above the quo vadis restaurant. it’s common knowledge that in 1850 karl walked every day from here to the british museum to research ‘das kapital’, and less known that up there on the top floor of the building he regularly fucked the housemaid lenchen while his wife took her evening walk, resulting in pregnancy and family scandal. and at the top of greek street, thomas de quincey, author of ‘the english opium eater’, was rescued from an overdose in 1802 by a teenage streetwalker whom afterwards he sought in vain and never forgot. dylan thomas was another literary luminary frequently scraped up off greek street awash with beer and bombast, and george orwell was well-known in several local pubs and must also have climbed the walk-up stairs hereabouts.

leaving long-dead mongers behind us, we proceed to romilly street, s. of old compton st. here are two walk-ups, one featuring french ladies of the traditional soho 1950’s type, and indeed last time mur looked in, he guessed that the française who offered him a £20 quickie probably serviced his dear old daddy in the year 1952. the other walk-up here, number 26 (or 28?) next to an italian restaurant, is much more interesting, being the ‘office’ of a rotating squad of ‘young orientals’, as their door card has it. these are sweet obliging girls, who have frequently served up the finishing course for mur after a chinese lunch. they are very busy, with all those brit. sex tourists returned from thailand and looking in for a spot of nostalgia.

this brings us to chinatown itself, in fact lisle street (pronounced 'lyle'). invisible on the map, it runs parallel to gerrard street, the pedestrian zone of wall-to-wall oriental eateries. lisle street has four premises, two excellent ones at its w end. in one of these, number 2 first floor, is london’s sensation of 2007. natalie is insatiable and apparently inexhaustible, working five days a week, very rare for a walk-up babe, from 1100 to 2200, dispatching, as she told mur with relish, some 40 men a day, and never losing her energy, her desire to please and her raunchy humour. you haven't been to london if you haven’t looked into the bedside mirror to see natalie’s white boots pointing skywards and your fat hairy bum bouncing between them. she’s a tall, blonde curvy babe, not perhaps mur’s biotype but a metropolitan must-see like madame tussaud’s or the tower of london.

this is a start: a personal view. you can pace the whole territory in an hour. other london mongers will be wondering why their own favourites have been overlooked, and they are encouraged to comment: but mur will pause for breath before writing some general advice about how to behave in soho.

[Murilloa]

First, as in all big cities, don’t be fuckin’ stupid with your mobile phone, i-pod or other pricey whim-whams. There are folks around here who will be more than happy to take care of these, if you can’t do it yourself. Having said that, stealthy rather than violent theft is the rule, and Soho is quite safe, although if you are on the street when the locals begin to get drunk, (any time between 0900 and 0300 these Blairite days) they may sound a little alarming. Just avoid eye contact or conversation with the bog-standard boozewhacked British arsehole, and he (or she) will leave you alone. The same goes for the miserable fauna who hang out on some of the corners, notably in Peter Street, asking, “lookin’ fer ladies, sir?” Mur is often tempted to make a smart-aleck reply, but this is unwise. You do not need these drug-riddled touts to help you find the ladies, since the doorway just behind them carries a bright cardboard sign reading, ‘busty brunette, all services’, and you can read English.

If you meet anyone on the stairs, it will usually be your predecessor descending from heaven, but if anybody inside the building asks you for money or offers advice, ignore them. Just get to the door and ring the bell. You will then meet the ‘maid’, an older woman of hideous appearance who probably worked the same flat in the early days of WWII. She will do one of three things:

(i) Usher you in to the bedroom, chortling, “come on in, darlin’, the lady will be wiv you in arf a minnit”.
(ii) Show you to a greasy chair, with, “she’ll be ten minnits, darlin’ - d’yer wanner wite?”
(iii) Open the door a chink and tell you, “Sorry darlin’, she’s busy an’ I’ve got anovver gennleman wytin’.”

That gentleman will be Murilloa, of course.

If you meet (iii), why, the next walk-up isn’t far away, although with Natalie and Angie it’s worth walking round the block and trying again. If it’s (i) or (ii) you may examine your prospective purchase with NO OBLIGATION to stay. If you don’t fancy her, decline politely and leave. Used to be that this would earn an ugly stream of invective for your parting back as you stumbled downstairs, but nowadays, hookers and maids like other Londoners are more service-conscious and will almost always smile gracefully or resignedly if you say you’ll try elsewhere.

(Once, decades ago, a door opened and a woman of forty-plus announced the price. “Yes, but may I see the young lady first?” asked junior Mur.
“I AM the young lady!", snarled the harridan, before cursing him down the stairs)

If (ii) the lady is busy and you decide to wait, you sit in the kitchen where the maid will try to strike up conversation. There is always a TV emitting its poisonous shite, and often a CCTV aimed at the alley or the stairs, showing, mirror-like, shadowy images of lurking old sex fiends like your good self. Mur usually asks for the newspaper, almost always ‘The Sun’, so as to compose himself and not have to chatter. In many of these premises, especially the Romilly Street orientals and Natalie of Lisle Street, you can hear through the partition the exertions of the customer before you. In Natalie's case, you can even hear our Russian beauty urging him on, ‘ohh yeah, ffucck zat poozy!”. Some mongers may find this upsetting, Mur enjoys it. Takes all sorts.

[Murilloa]

prices. mur is enjoying this so much, he’s almost forgotten the disagreeable subject. but soho has built three centuries of fame on being cheap and easy, so this part is not complicated. in every walk-up now, there is a menu on the bedroom wall, because very often the lady’s english does not stretch to explaining the range of prices and services. and the menu goes like this:

straight sex: £20. the cheapest fuck in london. at this price, she may not remove her bra, may or may not respond to your urgent thrustings with some movements of her own, and will certainly allow you only one position. some of them resent your asking for this basic service, especially if you look well dressed and able to afford more. but angie and natalie will give you a perfectly good fuck at this basement price. you are not expected to linger, and if you are still humpin’ after about five minutes, she will say something delicately charming like “c’mon now, spunk it up me” or even “nearly time love, you better come now”. bear in mind, that some of the other punters paying £20 are desperate bums: you are sharing with the riff-raff here. but at least you are conscious of the fact, unlike the married guy whose wife has bareback-fucked the plumber, the gardener, the supermarket car-park attendant and some biker she met outside the pub, all before serving hubby his evening cunnilingus when he arrives off the 2015 from waterloo.

where were we? yes, prices. next comes sex and french (cbj) £25 - the above, with a perfunctory cbj.

then the twenty minute special @ £45. mur’s preferred option. this buys you some leisurely foreplay, a conscientious covered blowjob, two or three positions, and a uniform if required: otherwise, uniform when available is £10 extra.

extras: daty, spanking, fisting, and [CodeWord117] are commonly but not invariably on sale, at £60 to £75, and some ladies offer an hour, presumably with two pops, for £100. natalie advertises bbbjcim for £100, which is expensive considering that a two-hour sacred rose party with the chance to cum five times with three girls is the same price.

kissing is almost unheard-of. ‘a’ (sometimes known as ‘greek’) is by no means universal, a point worth noting for latin gentlemen who are always keen on this variation - for some of them, sex isn’t sex without it. no racial slur intended, on the contrary mur believes that just as many english men like anal sex, it’s just that they tend to do it with guys…

note that les girls and the cottage, considered a cut above the ornery walk-ups, do not offer the basic £20 spurt-and-sprint option. they start at £45, thus outpricing the poorest scumbags and reducing the traffic. lori once confessed that she gets a little sore after ten or twelve, whereas when natalie reaches that number, she’s only warming up.

[Murilloa]

when you drag your money into view, your new girlfriend will ask for a pound or two for the maid. before going on the soho stroll, get a few £1 coins jingling in your pocket so as not to have to ask for change.

before the act, be sure that it is carefully and calmly agreed between you just what has and has not been paid for. do not part with your cash unless you know what your bought beauty is going to deliver. of course you may still get an ugly surprise, but these days most girls are proper professionals and will make it clear what they perform, and for what price.

during the show, be sensitive about your attitude. it is fairly easy to ‘read’ these girls and judge what they do and do not like you to say. at opposite ends of the scale are lori and natalie. lori likes to be taken hard, but with honeyed words, which her enamoured mur is happy to provide, telling her truthfully that she is the loveliest woman he has ever had the joy of fucking. in her heart of hearts, despite thousands of paid performances, lori doesn’t really believe that she is anything as cheap and nasty as a prostitute. natalie, on the other hand, glories in being a wh*re and wants you to know it and share it. gfe she ain’t, at least mur was never fortunate enough to have such a girlfriend. it’s all about empathy and respect, innit – remembering that these women are human, with feelings, not rubberised fuckdolls: treat them as the latter, and that’s how they’ll be for you, of course.

we’ve reached the point of solemn clichés, but one final piece of advice: when you have paid, and the lady asks you to undress and goes out to stash the wad – turn the radio down to lowest volume. there is always a ghetto-blaster in the bedroom, and there is no surer way of wasting your investment than finding that just as you are parting angie’s bum cheeks to slide the big boy home in ‘doggie’, inane pop music is interrupted ‘as we go over to the house of commons to hear mr blair’s speech’. this actually happened to mur, and since then he silences the fuckin’ radio every time, just in case. this also prevents your sweetheart from humming and singing along with her favourite jingle, just as you are powering up for the climax. if you are a true aesthete, you could perhaps bring along your own cd of beethoven’s string quartet in f major, opus 135.

on which melodious final note, let us conclude the soho stroll, wishing the bear and others luck and joy with this sacred square mile of lunnon town.

[Irv Washington]

I am looking for London info. I know the area around Leicester Square fairly well. It would be nice to get a couple of cross streets to head for and maybe even an address or two.

Any help from anybody would be greatly appreciated.

P Bear

P Bear

Do you know the Soho area? Closest tube station is Piccadilly Circus.

Some good walk-ups and apartments with WGs on Berwick Street.

Good walk-up at 70A Berwick Street. A few ladies work here. I recommend Amber - if you search this board you can find more details including a post by me in January this year.

Also try "Les Girls" (www.lesgirls.co.uk) or "Soho Cottage" (www.sohocottage.com). Both highly recommended on many websites with many satisfied customers including me! Lori at Les Girls and Emma at Soho Cottage are both very popular.

You said you sometimes get lost in this area. It's not hard to find this area from Piccadilly Circus station. Or if you are in the nearby area (eg Leicester Square , Covent Garden, Green Park) a taxi to Berwick Street will be around 3 to 5 pounds.

Hope this helps! Enjoy London. If you try any of the above places, please post here and let us know how it went!

Irv

[P Bear]

I PMed you- but I am looking for London info. Either around Heathrow on the 12th of April or near the tube that evening. I know the area around Leicester Square fairly well. I have gotten lost in the past, attempting to go further up from there. The twists and turns of those streets in there are a bit much for us country boys. It would be nice to get a couple of cross streets to head for and maybe even an address or two.

My taste runs to the lighter colors and the petite side of things and am not much for the bar or party scene.

Any help from anybody would be greatly appreciated.

P Bear

[Dreams]

I also enjoy Mur's writing and find nothing wrong in him using the 3rd person as he does. His reports are always entertaining and full of useful information for the other members.

Perhaps when you (13 posts) approach the number of posts that Mur has (377 posts) you will have room to criticize another posters writing style.

Keep posting Mur, I always look for your posts and read them even though I am not in the same area of the world as you. If you are ever in Berlin though I can steer you towards some lovely ladies.

AM

Nobody on this Board cares about this guy vomiting or not...
We car about guys posting interesting and useful reports, whatever the style their writing style...

[Murilloa]

Literary style is a matter of taste, but there’s no disputing Jane Austen: —"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a fuck”.

After relationships with so many women, lasting between ten years and ten minutes, Mur is wise enough to accept that he can’t be everyone’s ‘cup of tea’ – although he doesn’t remember actually making anyone vomit.

So, Artful, no worries, each to his own, mate - ‘de gustibus’ etc., hope to share a beer and a booty in Barranquilla some time.

Knight - many thanks for kind words.

Bear - are you about to use London or Lisbon information?

Angus M - Berlin is on my to-do list, so one day I may be in touch.

(sorry, guys, that should read: ‘Berlin is on Mur’s to-do list, one day he may be in touch’)

To finish with some hard, indeed hard-core information, what do we think of the UK’s latest party girl?

http://www.nicolesexy.com

[P Bear]

I like Mur's style. He has some good info that I will use soon. I thought that the forum was all about sharing info-

Good job Mur!

[Angus Magee]

Can you please stop talking about yourself in the third person? It makes me want to vomit.

I also enjoy Mur's writing and find nothing wrong in him using the 3rd person as he does. His reports are always entertaining and full of useful information for the other members.

Perhaps when you (13 posts) approach the number of posts that Mur has (377 posts) you will have room to criticize another posters writing style.

Keep posting Mur, I always look for your posts and read them even though I am not in the same area of the world as you. If you are ever in Berlin though I can steer you towards some lovely ladies.

AM

[TheKnight]

Can you please stop talking about yourself in the third person? It makes me want to vomit.

I, for one, rather like Mur's style. Remember this a forum for everyone, with varying styles and likes/dislikes.

At least the man can write well, with intelligence, and tell a decent story. Most of Mur has given a hell of a lot of good info, not just a couple of posts about Colombia.

[Artful]

Since leaving Portugal, let us hope temporarily, Mur’s hobby has become routine. In Lisbon he ranged freely, exploring clinics and saunas ...

Can you please stop talking about yourself in the third person? It makes me want to vomit.

[Murilloa]

Since leaving Portugal, let us hope temporarily, Mur’s hobby has become routine. In Lisbon he ranged freely, exploring clinics and saunas in the city centre, keeping a watchful eye on the €25 Romanian SW scene, and even taking trains out to the suburbs where Brazilian babes and local beauties hide away. But here in London, where there are so many opportunities, he just does a party once or twice a month, and pays his Friday visit to Lori.

But Tuesday brought a business trip to the West End, and once the morning rain cleared, it seemed a shame not to take a Soho stroll. This led to 70A, Berwick Street, a legendary venue for London’s ‘punters’. The card in the doorway said ‘Chelsea, classy slim English blonde’. Curious. Not many English girls in the walk-ups these days, and of course, they always lie about their origins. But he went up for a look.

The maid said that Chelsea was about to pleasure a gentleman caller: would Mur like to wait? As he pondered, the lady herself came out of the bedroom. Tallish, slim, blonde, pretty face, beautiful shapely legs in heels and white stockings. In a cultured English voice, very like the receptionist in the smart office Mur had just visited, she asked if he would mind waiting for twenty minutes? Certainly not.

He took his seat in a corner behind a curtain in the kitchen. Fortunately the maid was not the chatty kind. She did insist on watching crappy TV, but volume was not so high as to mask the unmistakeable rhythmic sounds, from the bedroom, mounting to a crescendo, then falling silent. Mur’s wait would not last much longer. Indeed after exactly twenty minutes, our svelte hostess emerged, wished a friendly farewell to her invisible guest, and summoned Mur from behind his curtain.

Paying £45 for his own twenty minutes, he asked for uniform and role-play to be included in that price. Chelsea eagerly agreed, unhooked the relevant costume from the array of clothing hanging on the wall, and departed, to return in a couple of minutes, fetchingly dressed up as a...

Well, we shall be coy about the exact nature of this role (p)lay. Enough to say that she was superb, outstanding, a beautifully convincing and provocative actress… and well, modest Mur, he played his part too. With all respect to Lori, and to Nicole and Jodi of sacred rose, this was the best sex since coming back to London.

When the blissful session was over, Chelsea came out of role and said what a happy, funny, enjoyable scene it had been. She and Mur then chatted in an amiable, intelligent manner about the contribution that fantasy and role-play can make to good varied sex. Here was a woman who could very easily be a lover and companion, with her calm, good humoured, guilt-free grown-up attitude. Mur’s routine (and monthly budget) may have to be adjusted to include Chelsea.

She is at 70A on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Mur forgot to ask if she works elsewhere on other days.

Yes, this chapter has been a long one, but Chelsea deserves every word, and has Muri’s unreserved recommendation.

[Dane Scout]

Member #3016 try the foolowing link:

http://www.hotczechs.co.uk/

Cassandra is the best. Great service and attitude and a BBBJ that puts a new meaning to the word DEEEEEEEP!

Hey dud,

What is the prize level for thoose beauty girls?

Thanks

[P Bear]

I will be in London soon- at Heathrow- but tube is available. I will be in town for one night only as a layover. I have used the services of the "models" near the Leicester Square station. I have only made it about a block from there- because I got lost attempting to go further up beyond Chinatown. I know that there must be better selections than on that one small block near Leicester. Where should I go? A suggestion of a couple of crossstreets would be helpful. I will be there the evening and night of April 12. I would prefer locations where I might be able to find smaller white girls (Eastern Europe type) prefered. Okay to PM me. Referals to private providers near Heathrow or on the tube would also be appreciated.

I really enjoyed my past visits and am looking forward to better memories after this trip.

The P Bear