Fucking the Twenty year old Tom Cruise-look-alike ranch hand

Two pretty young Afrikaner boys in supporters shirts and caps were sitting quietly to one side.

I didnt expect any business from them but the one caught my eye a few times and eventually I got the courage to approach.

They were leaving for Montana USA the next morning

Apparently a lot of Afrikaans guys go and do farm work over there

I think it’s cool that white South African workers are so in demand internationally.

So the one nervously admitted he’d come to “book” and wanted to go with me.

He sure was pretty;

and well-mannered;

and shy;

so I had no qualms about it.

In the room, he self-consciously removed his cap and shirt, clearly not very experienced with hookers.

He looked every bit the fantasy cowboy: shirtless, all tanned lats and abs, in perfectly fitting cowboy style jeans and belt-buckle.

And he’d been hiding the sexiest long fringe in the cap!

After I coaxed him out of the jeans, he lay down passively, as almost all the guys do, and I started putting my moves on him. He warned me that he might cum quickly and almost as soon as he’d said it, he came;

still wearing his underwear.

But that didn’t discourage his impressive erection at all and soon I was blowing him.

He didn’t seem terribly turned on by it, quite uncomfortable, really, so next, I got my lotion and squirted it on my biggish natural tits and led him to give them a good fondling.

Still very little passion registered.

So I put a condom on him and rode him;

all my best moves! Still, he didn’t seem turned on, was going soft, in fact!

We agreed the condom was too tight for him and so I removed it, getting ready to try satisfy him by hand

I was getting so discouraged and wasn’t having any fun at all, as gorgeous as he was. I asked him not to be shy to let me know what he might enjoy.

He was reluctant;

saying he didn’t know.

“Come on, I’m sure you’ve watched a few blue movies before?”, I asked him in Afrikaans.

He asked if he could be on top. Sure! I said. That’s the easiest for me; and they so rarely want it, so I was pretty damn pleased

Well, he proceeded to fuck me like a champ! 🙂

My feet soon behind my ears!

I suggested doggie-style after a while, encouraging him to gain experience, and jeeez was that even MORE fun, especially when he’d gently but firmly pushed me down, between my shoulder blades, leaving only my ass in the air.

Then he took my one arm and gently but also firmly put it behind my back as if I was half tied up

Well, I caught on quick and when I added my other arm, my face happily smooshed into the pillows, pretending to be tied up, he pulled out and came all over my lower back.

Fucking hot stuff for a forty-something hooker hahaha yeehaaaa


My birthday at the brothel

Yesterday was my 42nd birthday.

My kids were nice and quiet so I slept late, and then I treated us all to a nice milkshake at Steers on the corner. That was my party, really

I almost never treat myself to my favourite peanut butter milkshake, so it was nice.

Then I went off to the library alone, as another treat I rarely allow myself, especially since starting homeschool.

I thought I’d work on marketing my book and maybe blog a bit, but the wifi wasn’t working, and the librarians were having a fat social chat and I couldn’t bear it, so I walked to the Spur on the next block, to treat myself to a modest little meal and use THEIR wifi, but alas it didn’t work there either!

I’d agreed to be home by 2.30pm to be with Jordan, so that Chantelle could go visit her boyfriend for a few hours before I went to work, and after a nice nap, I waited for my usual bus at 6pm. I got a bit nervous when it was late because I had to be at my next bus stop at 6.15pm for the last bus to the club/brothel.

It came at about 6.05pm which was still fine but then I alighted at a stop too soon and ended up having to jog to my next stop, in my black slip-slops, sweating up my little black and white sort-of paisley “skater dress” but at least I made it in time and saved myself a bundle in transport. An Uber to work on a Friday would’ve cost R70-R140, but my two busses there only come to R8!!!

I feel so smug saving all that, just because I’m willing to look poor.

People are amazed when I tell them how cheap it is.


When I get to the club, it only takes me 15-20 minutes to transform myself into Mia, the classy working girl, and I went to go say hello and check in a bit with Marsha, the ball-breaking manageress who I consider to be my friend.

I told her that it was my birthday but to keep it quiet as I didn’t want to be forced to drink shooters and get fucked-drunk and vomit which I know many are often forced to do by their peers on the birthday. She so heartily wished me (Afrikaans ladies are so nice about birthdays) and a few minutes later, handed me a classy looking bottle of JC Le Roux faux champagne, along with a hug, on behalf of the club. I felt really appreciated.

I spotted Walter, one of nice guys I chat to, that just comes in for a few drinks, and we shared three “Brandy Specials” (two double brandy & Cokes for the price of one) and a “Jager-Bomb” (a shot of Jagermeister placed in a tumbler witha bit of of Red Bull) and had a great chat with plenty of laughs.

I know Walter smokes and I so badly wanted a crumb of weed for when I got home, seeing as though it was my birthday, and I felt so, so blessed when he magnanimously said he’d give me “a nugget of goodness” but when he went out to his car to get it, he didn’t come back.

I was hurt as well as sorely disappointed because we’d really connected, and even agreed to be platonic friends, and hang out in normal life, yet he never took my number. He just left. Dropping me like that. Knowing it was my birthday. I really didn’t see it coming.

So I wasn’t feeling very joyful when a huge bellied moustached Afrikaner approached me, telling me he recognized me as a fellow xxxxx Primary School parent from years ago; that he’d always fancied me and now really wanted to book me.

I felt stalked and also had zero desire to go to bed with him, so I declined, telling him it felt too weird for me. He accepted my decline with poise, but then sat watching me, and after about 20 minutes, seeing that I was getting no other interest (it was very quiet again), he came and tried again.  He was practically smirking, so I could tell he was quite sure he would now get his way, as I must need money and he has money, and that really irritated me, especially in my inebriated state, so I told him clearly I was not desperate (“ek’s nie geld-befok nie”) and was really not interested. Again, he accepted my decline rather well, but left the club immediately.


Then Martin, the sexy tik(crystal meth) addict (see my post Father and son in the brothel), arrived looking very buff and tanned and extremely confident and so, so smug.

Throughout December, we’d had quite a few awesome hours together and eventually he’d asked me out on a date

but then, almost immediately, he stopped texting me, putting a photo of him and his long-suffering third wife as his profile pic with the status “Ek is lief vir jou, my bok” (I love you, my buck, in Afrikaans) and I’d immediately recognised it as emotional abuse and deleted his number without another thought.

I was willing to overlook that last night, as months had passed and I was hoping for a nice long booking($$$)of great sex and laughs for my birthday, but when he played hard-to-get, chatting up a skinny young blonde instead, I decided I was done with him for good.

It was the last abuse I was willing to take from him.

When he saw how it was not working and I wasn’t running after him, he came to me (I knew he would, because I’m very, very good and I know he’s a huge fan of my -ahem- work), and offered to book me, IF I could arrange drugs for him. That was the absolute last straw and I told him quite matter-of-factly to go fuck himself.

First he laughed it off but when I just as matter-of-factly told him to shove his money up his arse, and that I never cared to see him again in my life, he could tell I was quite serious, and he quickly stepped away from me. Boy, was he shocked. I could see how the rejection knocked the cockiness right out of him as he then went from girl to girl desperately trying to arrange drugs.

I didn’t care that I hadn’t made any money.

I get a kick out of eschewing their money to be true to myself.


I went home shortly afterwards.

I didn’t realise how hard the cheap brandy and Coke had hit me, until later in bed at home, when I coudn’t sleep, and lay tossing and turning, cringing as I kept reliving my tipsy, loose-lipped blabbing so much of my personal stuff to Marsha.

God, how I was craving a puff of weed!

I took two muscle relaxants and managed to fall asleep.



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-Stef Stefandides






Future-faked at the brothel

23h30  at the brothel


I thought I’d finally met a nice guy who’d appreciate me, but I’m already heartbroken

I feel so stupid

what was I thinking?


He was olive-skinned (Afrikaans but with perfect English )

A bit chubby, but a good chest,  big cock, loves to dance….and a bachelor.

We’d clicked so well

Really wanted to spend time together!

He said he wanted to take me out dancing!

I drank too much, having such a great time at the bar with him


After our hour together, he asked if I’d really give him my number


but then he didn’t even take it

Just wanted to see if I’d give it, like all the others.

(at best, they contact me just to try and get a freebie.)


I feel like crying




Maybe not on purpose, though.

I think after the sex, faced with the prospect of returning to the bar outside, he remembered what job I had to go back to, and knew he couldn’t possibly date me.

And it’s true.


God I feel so lonely again

How can I still be so naive?











My heroine addict hooker friend

On Thursday my God-fearing heroine addict work-friend Cheryl told me that all her make-up and clothes were stolen in the abandoned building in town where she lives sectioned behind cardboard box walls, and was asking around if anyone had old clothes to spare.

I always dodge her pleas for money at the end of a quiet shift like everyone else does, because she’s a known addict, but my teen daughter happened to have relinquished some very nice outgrown clothes the day before, and Cheryl, being so petite (says she used to be huge)…I just knew I was meant to give them to her.

I filled a classy string handled shopping bag that my ex’s spoilt daughter’s fancy Superga sneakers had come in years ago with a lot of stuff I’d been hanging onto for one day when I’m slender again, as well as an old lipstick, and looked forward to giving it to her.

She was so happy! It was so wonderful to be able to do it!! She immediately went to the back and changed into some of it and looked great! And then made some decent money, too! I’ve never seen her look so good and so happy.

It really lifted my spirits.


Father and son in the brothel

Last night a gorgeous, well-hung twenty-two year old rich boy Justin Bieber type booked me for three hours.

I’d been tipsy and in retrospect his eyes gleamed as he’d helped me get tipsy at the bar, especially to take advantage of me later.

He admitted to a number of sneaky behaviours throughout our time together:

said he NEVER uses a condom, and even when the girl insists, he “accidentally” lets it come off…

He invited me to visit him at his place on Sunday night

Says he’ll cook, provide premium weed, play me a great comedy movie…but this morning I threw his card away, remembering how he’d cum in me without even telling me and then told me hours later after I’d tried so fucking hard to help him cum!

I’m pretty sure he was on Viagra or something and he was huge, and even when I said I was to sore to go on, he put it in even more,  and enjoyed the fact that I just couldn’t seem to say no to more penetration; that I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint him, even though it was so sore

well, it was pleasurable AND sore. very confusing.

as I’m sure he knew.

He’d said I was “sweet”…I’m quite sure he meant he’d identified me as a people-pleaser.

He’d confessed to being lonely in life and having low self-esteem when sober, then when I said he was nice or honest, or both, he’d said he was very glad to have convinced me!

He even bit me right at the end; joked that he was biting me to keep me there with him and he wouldn’t release his bite even when I asked repeatedly as nicely as I could. He did when I elbowed him in the face though, but still I didn’t elbow him hard, at all, because he’d made it into a joke.

He did it to over-step my boundaries.

He’d told me how his father gave him cocaine at 14 and started taking him to brothels at 16…

His father was in the next room, for hours, and paid for the son to have me for three hours

I’m curious to see who the father is

the boy made it clear that the father is quite crazy

says his father called him one night to help him deal with ghosts that he could only see behind him when looking into his phone’s selfie camera!

mentioned his step-dad’s gay brother/son convincing him to let him suck him off!

joked about “roofy-ing” me

what a crazy drug-addled family! yet he maintains his job (working for his mother, though) and both parents (divorced since he was a boy) have successful businesses, selling AV equipment.


Hot guy, smelly cock

After being frighteningly broke again, I was rather happy to go back to the club for another swing, last night. I was feeling very sexy (after slimming for a few days and having done a sunbed session at the pharmacy on the corner) in my cream coloured hot-pants and wedge heels, with my forty-year old body looking so nicely toned.
I chatted up a GORGEOUS guy for a few drinks, quite early on, and as we sat, I surprised and entertained him with my wit and wisdom about sociopathic men and pointed out hot (younger) girls for him, as I was pretty sure he was out of my league. Well, after about an hour, I was quite surprised when he got up and said “Lets book” 🙂

In the room I’d kissed him as if I loved him (I miss having a man to love!) until I got to his (pierced!) cock which smelt like vrot pee, like I remember my older boyfriend’s smelling when I was eighteen. He used to beg me to suck it but I just couldn’t, no matter how much he washed it (and didn’t I eventually discover that he was sexually verrry dodgy…) Similar with this guy but not nearly as bad. I could suck it. But I didn’t love it. But I gave it a pretty good go, people-pleaser that I am. I looked forward to penetration because he was quite nice and thick but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get him to come! It might’ve been the female condom, but he said it’s not unusual and not to worry. Still I felt bad, but he really didn’t seem to care as we had another drink (he drank only clean Tab the whole eve, WTF?)

That turned out to be my only booking (that’s what we call a trip to the rooms), but I was happy to at least have made a few hundred to go on with. My main concern is keeping my kids comfortable, which I’ve managed to do all through this tough time since leaving Nick. It all reminds me very much of the time toddler Chantelle and I lived in a wendy house in 2006 (which happens to have been the previous time Jupiter was in Scorpio , I can’t ignore the coincidence)

So R440 was my cut of the R770 he paid (10% extra for being on a card), but R200 of my weekly levy was deducted, as it always is from my first booking of the week. And I’d paid my first beer myself, to unwind: R24 (incl tip), and my Ubers cost me R44 , so I got home with only R172 for a night in the brothel-cum-bar (haha cum, get it?), yet I’m grateful for it.

God’s making me grateful again.
My current situation simply must be God’s doing.
I’m living from meal-to-meal again, yet I’m managing to keep things going.

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Three guys call me over…

Last night was a Monday night and I chose to go to work. We choose when we want to do a shift, which is what makes it a pretty cool job, in my opinion.

I didn’t expect to earn much much more than my week’s levy  and my night’s transport, as Monday’s are almost always quite dead at the bar/ brothel, but the thought of having a few drinks and seeing some other adults seemed nice. God knows I’m lonely.

I caught an Uber there (it’s not far) and when I arrived, went straight to the bathroom as I usually do to remove my Uber clothes and put a more feminine, more revealing outfit on, and then went and took a seat at the bar, as I usually do.

There were three white guys sitting at a table near the stage. Usually guys that sit at the tables aren’t looking for prostitutes; they just come to have a few drinks together and catch a strip show. The one beckoned to me but I chose to ignore him. I have a lot of experience there and I know that an invitation like that usually just means they’re bored with each other and want to ask me a bunch of questions and then not know what to do with me, seeing as though I’m only one lady and they’re three guys.

The beckoner was quite determined, though, and got up to come and invite me to their table. He was quite attractive, and English speaking too, which is of course so much easier than Afrikaans is for me, but  still I resisted, explaining why I didn’t think it was a good idea, but he really, really wanted me to!

He’d asked so nicely and I didn’t want to reject him, especially not for no good reason, so I went.

Three guys: the beckoner, a likeable boy-next-door type and a mute fellow with a very neat beard. All about 45, and all nice-looking.

The beckoner immediately asked if I’d be willing to take him and the nice guy to sit in a jacuzzi and just fool around, no intercourse: two guys, one girl.

Tipsy me would’ve been immediately game, but I was stone cold sober and simply didn’t have the guts to even discuss it without a drink, so I said so. I’m very straight forward.  When we couldn’t spot the waitress, he carried on and on about it, clearly disregarding my boundary.  I felt a bit bullied, so I found myself becoming aggressive, and asked him straight: So why no intercourse? Did he think it wouldn’t be cheating on his significant other if there was no penetration? It’s not the first time I’d put a guy on the spot like that, while sober, and of course they don’t like me much after that, but he wasn’t put off: instead he got me a drink. When it arrived, it was only a single., so I asked for it to be made a double, not to be greedy, but because I was feeling so intimidated, and once I’d downed half of it, I was much more relaxed, and started chatting and laughing, and then the propositioning continued.

When Obnoxious heard that it would cost double for two guys to share my company in the jacuzzi with or without penetration, he started talking about inviting another girl along, to get better value for the money, I can only assume. He said I should organise one: a “friend”. Ugh. I don’t do that shit. I’ve always worked alone, and it really doesn’t appeal to me to have a second guy see me naked and touch me in the jacuzzi when I’d only be paid for one. I’d given it a go as a Twenty-Something newbie but now as a 40-something mom, I know what I like and what I don’t, and so I refused.

I called Megan over for Obnoxious and turned my attention to Boy-Next-Door who I really liked. Well, when I saw how absolutely disrespectfully Obnoxious treated Megan, I was totally disgusted. I had to tell him to offer her a seat, the pig! Then when he bought another round and didn’t offer me another, I simply asked Boy-Next-Door to get me one, which he obligingly did. I started really enjoying  Boy-Next-Door and hoped I’d get to go with him, alone. Nooit. Obnoxious was not giving up on me. Seems he’d just been trying to make me jealous with much younger, sexier Megan.

Obnoxious called Boy-Next-Door one side to discuss things, and I told Mute that this was when the obnoxious friend threatens the friendship if he doesn’t get what he wants. He laughed; the first sound he’d made. The older guys often laugh when I predict these things so flippantly due to my vast life experience. Many find it refreshing.

They returned, and Boy-Next-Door said he wasn’t really all that keen after all, but that Obnoxious was. I said Oh, so that’s the pecking order, is it? (Lekker windgat now with almost two doubles in me). I turned to Obnoxious, who was looking so smug, as if I now had to go with him, and said But you gave me such a Fuck You by not buying me another drink? So, no thanks.

I rarely if ever go through with a guy that has shown me he’s an arsehole at the bar already, and him not buying me that drink had been a good excuse to reject him.

I greeted and got up and went and sat with aguy I knew.

When I looked again, they’d left.

The night didn’t get much better, although I certainly had some nice strong drinks which was what I’d actually gone for. I ended up not doing any business, but at least my self-respect was intact, and I’d cut yet another narcissist down a peg or two, which is always a pleasure.


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