My first time . . . .
Often, when I am on my way to visit an alluring escort, full of exciting anticipation, or when I am leaving the said escort, my balls empty and a smile on my face, I wonder where did it all begin? How did I develope my tastes in sexy curvy women?
Well, it began with a late 1980s era page 3 pin up named Samanta Fox. As a schoolboy,with no girlfriend, a face full of pimples, and explosive hormones in the late 80s, Samanta, with her big blond hair, big hairy bush, VERY big tits( come to think of it , everything about Samanta seemed big) was my ideal woman. A Godess to be admired.
The daily british tabloid newspaper, with the half nude page 3 girl was like manna, (Dont laugh guys, porn mags of even the most simple type were harder to get than jobs back then), and I spend many a enjoyable evening playing with myself over grainy black and white pictures of the bouncy Sam and her peers of the page 3 kind.. And then at age 15 I struck gold and won the lotto all in one, or at least it felt that way, I somehow got the Samanta Fox 1990 calender,. Yes 12 BIG colour pages of Sam in all her glory, I was mesmorised, here she was, my ideal sex partner, in all manner of poses, but in each one her big titties sticking out ahead of her. And so it was my playfull activities increased in intensity and duration. It was during one such Samanta worshipping session that something truely wonderfull happened, I Spunked for the first time!
Yes a semi nude calender picture of the short (in height, but big in assets ) Sam, induced my first, momentus eruption. After that I was hooked on women, or at least Sam Fox type women. As I got older My tastes matured from the simple Sam type female form of femalehood into more real life mna na eirinn. But that calender picture was the beginning. Over 16 years on I now visit escorts, and enjoy their company, but Sam turned me in their direction, all those years ago. Im sure most of you would know her too from back then, but for anybody who does not, a few pictures of her in her prime . . . .
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