Stories From the Brothel

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Stories From the Brothel by Mr. W.

Journalists are badgering the eccentric Belgrade painter Nikola Matovic because his wife, the Swiss Countess of Vanforherden, almost three-times-older his senior, died during sexual intercourse. He decides to tell his story to young, emerging writer Nikola Misovic and hires him to write his confession. The young writer accepts the offer enthusiastically, wishing to become famous on the wave of publicity that surrounds the painter. However, he has no idea in what direction their conversations will go.
The painter begins the story from when he loses his virginity at eighteen. He wants the deed done in a brothel instead of the usual way. Having a peculiar fetish, he fears that girls will reject him and seeks a prostitute, not realizing that he is actually looking for love. The brothel world shapes him as a young man, but with prospects for a well paying job slim in Serbia, he must push himself to make money to pay for his prostitutes. Yet, his sexual need awakens his creativity, which even affects his art.
A fast-paced and thrilling novel about sexual awakening and the maturing of a young man in unfavorable circumstances. While Misovic stoically overcomes the obstacles on his path, will it make him lose his soul?

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Weight 0.99 lbs
Artist Credit

Cover Art © evgeny varlamov –

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The taxicab stand was across the street, so I went to the pedestrian crossing, stopped and waited for the green light. A young couple was standing beside me. I think they were my age. She was skinny, with pimples and messy hair, inconspicuously dressed, and he… I’m more competent to appraise the beauty of a flower pot than a guy, but I dare say that he wasn’t a specimen of an alpha male. She was ugly! There! I said it! Beauty is in the eye of the observer, and in my eyes she was genetic waste! Yet, they looked at each other with yearning, held hands and smiled. Why can’t I find such a girl, hold her hand and smile while looking at her? What’s wrong with me?

In the next moment, an orange Porsche answered my question. Behind the wheel was a cool looking guy in a suit while the passenger’s seat was empty. The car slowed down because a fool on a bicycle crossed into his lane and that let us have a better look. You won’t believe how the girl looked at the driver! Her poor boyfriend was looking at her and she was looking at the Porsche and the guy behind the wheel. She didn’t stare so her boyfriend didn’t notice. But I did! I saw that moment in which her eyes, like lightning, flashed a longing to be on the passenger’s seat; the lust and craving whose clouds covered her face for a blink of an eye.

She wanted the cool guy in the Porsche, but she knew that she couldn’t have him or attract him in any way and make him push his dick in her pussy. Even that would have been enough for her ‒ to know that a guy who drives a Porsche fucked her because it would make her special. To be a thread on the big fan of vaginas and butts, with which rich men cool themselves when they get hot from boredom. But not every woman can get on that fan. Not all of them are beautiful, but she… She can have someone like that tall skinny guy in an olive green jacket and brown sneakers. He is just a compromise for her. She kisses her compromise. She blows her compromise and swallows his semen. She fucks with her compromise. She will have children with her compromise. And eventually, grow old and die with her compromise, watching her children turn into the same ‒ compromises. And that’s all right, if you can lie to yourself and call the ultimatum that life gives you a compromise or go even further and call it love. But I just can’t.

Once, I dated a girl who didn’t attract me. I listened to her, held her hand, and forced myself to kiss her. When I came home, I entered the shower, opened the tap, wrapped the hose around my neck, and started tightening it. I couldn’t possibly hang myself because I was sitting and the hose was very low so there was no chance to do it nor did I really want to take my life. I was only being pathetic. But I realized that the girl was also a fucking compromise for the unfortunate skinny guy since he would without a trace of doubt screw the milf in a fur coat that caught his eye. I would probably rather take my life than walk through it fearfully like the two of them, holding the hand of someone who doesn’t attract me. Dear God, is it possible that poor people don’t have even love, but only a lie that makes their days easier?

The light finally turned green. I crossed the street, sat in the first free taxi, and I told the cabby to drive to the Arena. I couldn’t get that couple out of my head. Some people are like pigs. Instead of choosing, they eat every pigswill that life puts before them. Sometimes I feel the urge to puke because of such things.

Soon I arrived in front of the building and called the manager, who told me the floor and apartment numbers. I stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the fifth floor, put the bags with my equipment on the floor, and arranged my hair in front of the mirror. I knew that I will get laid since I’m paying, but I like to look nice. The elevator stopped. I stepped out, turned left, reached apartment 32 and rang. Una opened the door. She had long brown hair and a pretty face with a beauty mark between her eyes. She closed the door, checked me out, and smiled.

“So, you are that perverted painter. I’m Una.”

She offered me her hand. “I see that you have heard about me. Nikola,” I replied.

She had soft palms.

“Follow me,” she said. Our room was at the end of the hallway. Tea was waiting for us inside.


“Here we are,” Una said and took off her shoes. Just as the manager had assured me, her feet were beautiful, with nice nails covered with black polish. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

“Well, sex with both of you… One hour,” I answered and gave her 20,000 dinars. She left the room with the money, leaving me with Tea.

“How’s life?” she asked me.

“Same old. You?”

“Same old.”

I took the puddings from the bag and arranged them on the coffee table. Then I took the pantyhose and gave Tea the nude pair.

“You will put these on.”

“Okay.” She smiled and crumpled them.

Una returned, took off her skirt and lay on the bed in a black bra and thongs.

“Take everything off,” I told her. “Sure.” Una leaped from the bed, stripped, and noticed the puddings on the table. “What the hell is this?”

“To sweeten us up,” Tea explained.

“Did you come here to eat or to fuck?” Una asked.

“Those activities are inseparable since sex is food for the soul… So…” I threw the black pantyhose at her.

“This is for you.”

“Should I put them on?” Una asked, lifting her leg.

“Logically,” I replied. Tea giggled.

“Hey,” Una exclaimed, “they don’t have a hole. How will you…?”

“Don’t worry, he will rip them,” Tea explained.

“She knows everything, and you are a new cookie… But relax. You’ll get the hang of it quickly. Now, both of you lie down on your back and don’t do anything.”

They complied. I stood in front of the bed and watched their slender legs covered with nylon. I was dumbfounded. I knew that these feet were real, but my brain couldn’t accept that fact. I knelt on the edge of the bed, grabbed Tea’s ankle, raised it and bit the outside of her foot. Then I did the same thing to Una.

“Get closer to each other,” I said.

They did as told, giggling. “You really are perverted,” Una said.

I didn’t answer since I was feeling numb. I crossed their legs and licked their feet and shins. My dick was dead. I started jerking off, but it stayed dead. I quickened. Una put her foot under my balls and Tea touched my dick. I felt a mild erection on its way. However, I realized that by licking their legs and wanking I wouldn’t achieve the hardness required for good sex.

“I know what we are going to do.” I ripped Tea’s pantyhose above her pussy and explained. “Let’s make a train. You will sit on my face, and Una will blow me.”

A few moments later, my wish was fulfilled. Tea sat on my face and I licked her clit and dug my tongue into her wet pussy, while Una rolled a condom over my dick and started sucking juicily. It was obvious that she liked to pleasure men orally because, as much as prostitutes are experienced, they can’t beat those who do something out of love. Una loved sucking cocks and it was obvious. My dick became hard as a rock. I squeezed Tea’s ass and pulled her over my face.

I felt that I will come soon, so I lifted Tea and shouted, “Stop, stop, stop!”

Una stopped and I told her that I wanted to fuck her. Tea got up, I took my position between Una’ legs, ripped her pantyhose and entered.

“Tea, open the vanilla pudding,” I told her, while fucking Una and soaking her foot with saliva. She had wonderful nipples. They were juicy with big dark circles around them. I lowered my head and began sucking them.

“Opened,” Tea exclaimed and knelt on the bed behind my back, holding a cup of pudding.

I dropped down into a missionary position and said, “Pour the pudding over my back. Spread it and then rub your pussy over it.”

Tea chuckled and did as told. I felt the cold pudding running between my shoulder blades and then her gentle touch spreading it. Una’s breasts were rubbing against my chest. I stroked her face, kissed her neck, and slowly moved my hips. Tea sat on my back and I felt her clit and ass sliding over me. I slowed down. After a few moments, I stilled completely. The very awareness that Una was lying beneath me and breathing as her heart counted down the moments to death and that Tea, sticky from the pudding, was rubbing against me was enough to bring me to the edge. The question was whether I would be able to postpone ejaculation.

Una stroked my face and I shouted, “Stop! Both of you stop!” In the next moment, I said, “Eh, fuck! Continue! Keep going!”

I pulled Una’s hair, ran my tongue over her neck, and rested my lips on her cheek while Tea put her palms on my chest and continued rubbing against my back. I fucked Una hard. I pounded so forcefully that my thighs hurt.

“Yes! Fuck me!” Una shouted, groaning with Tea. “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

I came. After all of us showered since even Una was sticky from the pudding, we returned to the room. I told the girls to put on their pantyhose again and explained that we will repeat everything, except that the two of them would change places. First, we made a train and Tea sat on my face again because Una didn’t allow clients to lick her pussy. When my cock was hard enough, I turned her on her back and told Una to prepare the pudding. I ripped Tea’s pantyhose on her left foot because I wanted to suck her toes while coming. I leaned forward and kissed her gently, sucking her lips, the upper one then the bottom one and stilled inside her while Una smeared the pudding over my back.

When she sat on me and her clit started gliding over my back, I exclaimed, “Wow! A man could die from this!”

Tea brought her mouth to my ear and let out a hot breath, moved her tongue and let out some quiet sounds that no woman after her managed to repeat. I don’t know what came over me, but it seemed like my head was boiling from euphoria. I barely suppressed a roar. Strange… While she was doing that, I wasn’t particularly close to coming, yet it seemed to me that the heavenly kingdom was pouring from every pore of my skin. I had the feeling that my soul was shaking somewhere between my gut and chest, trying to jump into my mouth. I forgot about Una. About my birthday. About my pals. About my late father and grandma who didn’t have much more life in her. My future. Ghosts of the past. Brothers of Humanity and my new plan to grow marijuana with the priest’s son. Dear God, I even forgot that my dick was in a pussy. I was aware only of that indescribable ecstasy.

2 reviews for Stories From the Brothel

  1. Zarko Maric

    This is one crazy novel about foot fetish. The painter has very expensive tastes and very little money and very strong suicidal urges. Very, very, very… I never read anything like this and I have read many books. This one really goes deep into the psychology of man thorn between perversion and urge to love. I am very eager to read the second part of this book. And I highly recommend this to everyone who lives erotic novels…

  2. Eli Gilic

    This is a fast-paced compelling novel about the awakening and maturing of a young man in unfavorable circumstances. The painter’s struggles with suicidal urges while trying to earn money for prostitutes are shocking. And his foot fetish raises the story to a new level.
    The story of the protagonist’s first intercourse in a brothel is both deep and hilarious. It delves deep into the elaboration of problems men face when engaging with women for the first time. However, I can’t say anything else without spoilers… I highly recommend this novel and look forward to the second part.

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