At age 26, I lost my virginity with prostitutes. This was what I consider the best decision I've ever made in my life.

I want to tell my story to young virgin men. I don't exactly want to advise them to do as I did, as they may not be ready for that yet. I want to plant a seed in their mind. If one day they are confronted to the same kind of circumstances that led me to my decision, then hopefully they will remember my story and decide the time has come for them to make that same decision.

So please, young virgin men, read my story.

This is going to be a long story, and I'll try not to bore you with too many details, but there will have to be details in order to understand the events.

First, a few words about my upbringing so you can get an idea of my personality and social background.

I come from a modest family. My father was a welder and my mother usually did not work and when she did, she was catering for children or cleaning stuff.

I was a smart kid at school. Especially in math and science. But I wasn't smart enough to understand that I should work hard and not just rely on my talent. I had good grades, but never excellent.

Overall I had a nice childhood. My parents were giving me and my siblings a lot of freeway. I could watch TV all I want, go play outside instead of doing my homework and so on. As long as I had good grades and was not causing any trouble, I could do basically whatever I wanted.

I was exposed to pornography at a young age, around 10 or something, can't quite remember. My father owned a large collection of pornographic comics and made little effort to prevent me or my brother to have a peek at them. Often I was stealing one or two books and taking them in my room where I masturbated while reading them. Those comics were hand-drawn but they were very explicit, and the artists were very talented : the female bodies there were very beautiful and often very realistic. I was also masturbating to other kinds of medias, for instance softcore things like lingerie catalogues.

So I'm pretty sure I've masturbated pretty much every day during all my teenage years. I had one or two crushes towards real girls in high-school, but I never acted on it. I was basically the typical nerdy teenager that has no girlfriend and don't talk to girls much.

I was a relatively smart kid as I said so I managed to enter an engineering school, albeit not a highly reputed one. In that school, I had no real love interest, but I did attract the attention of a few girls. One once wrote a love note and slipped it in one of my pockets: "I love you and I think of your body", signed with a single letter, presumably the first one of her name. My initial reaction was to think it was a joke from my classmates, so I showed them. Pretty soon everyone in the class knew about it. I also sent an email to all girls whose first name started with that letter, asking them to identify themselves. I'm pretty sure the girl was embarrassed AF. Anyway at that point in my life, I still hadn't try anything with any girl but this was about to change.

During the final year, I did an internship in a large aerospace company. It was a dull and uninteresting work, as it involved a form of programming I actually hate. To be fair, maybe I was just bad at it. Still, it offered me my first professional experience in an actual engineering company.

Few desks away from mine was an absolutely stunning girl, around my age. She had an insanely sensual body. I was away from my friends, far from home and thus lonely AF. I had to try something and I did, for the first time in my life. One day, I went to her desk and invited her for a coffee break. She accepted, we had the coffee break together and chatted a bit. The day after, I made the rookie mistake of going to her again and ask for the same thing. I could see the embarrassment on her face, she looked at me straight in the eyes and said firmly "no". I'm pretty sure she felt that I was boring and needy, possibly she just could feel I was virgin and did not want to deal with that.

This was my first rejection and it did hurt pretty bad. I was 23 or 24. I survived though, it only did hurt for a few weeks. Nothing else of much significance happened during this internship, and I never spoke to this girl again.

Eventually I graduated from my engineering school, with barely passable grades. It was during the post internet crash recession, so employment prospects were bad. As a result, many of my classmates decided on continuing their studies to get a PhD. Me, I didn't want that. I was sick of studying, sick of schools. I finally had a degree that was supposed to allow me to work, so I wanted to do exactly that : get a job, leave my parents home, earn a living and hopefully finally getting laid. At least that's how I saw things back then.

So I started applying for a job as a software engineer. It didn't work. For almost a year, I went to many job interviews and none of them got me hired. I can't know why for sure. The fact that my degree was not a very reputable one (not from a famous engineering school) probably did not help, but I also can't help but suspect that I lacked confidence and my interviewers could feel that.

Anyway, during that time, I also applied to be a substitute teacher in a middle school near my home town. I thought it could be a way to earn some money while I'm trying to get a real job. To my surprise, I did get accepted. So I ended up teaching math to middle-school kids. It was a part-time job, a few hours a week. The thing is : I ended up hating this job, for two reasons.

The first reason is that I was terrible at it, and I hate doing things I'm terrible at. I could not discipline the children, I just didn't have this in me, I guess. I was spending most of my time shouting at them, trying to keep them quiet, and I was failing most of the time.

The second reason is that I hated the idea that I was back to school. To me the whole point of studying is to learn a skill you can use to earn a living in real life, not to go back to school and try to transfer what you learned. I didn't refuse the idea of pursuing a PhD to end up teach kids basic arithmetic.

As far as women are concerned, nothing much happened there. I was attracted by one woman that worked as adviser for kids, but because she wasn't a teacher I had very little reasons to talk to her so I did not try anything. On the other hand, a female teacher tried to approach me. She had a weird seduction strategy: one day as we were alone in the teacher room and I was correcting my student copies, she initiated a conversation. I talked, and every time I was saying something, she was laughing and smiling, as if I was saying something funny. I wasn't, so it was clear to me that she was into me and that was her way to try to seduce me. She was maybe a 6 or 7, but I was not into her at all so that thing went nowhere.

Anyway as I said, I hated that job, so things were bad. Things were so bad my body told me : I developed rashes in my back. Never had anything like that, ever.

Meanwhile, I was still masturbating, but on actual video porn this time. I was living at my parents home and I had bought a computer, officially to help for my job search. I enjoyed having a computer as I could do some computer stuff (I'm a big GNU/linux nerd and I was learning it at the time), but I was also discovering internet pornography (not just comics). I was trying to hide it from my parents but one day, I got caught. My mother entered my room while I was stroking.

I'm not sure what she saw exactly, since fortunately my genitals were not completely exposed, I just had my hand in my pants, but I'm pretty sure she saw enough to understand what was happening. She did not say anything, she didn't even look upset, I guess for her that was normal or something.

I felt horrible. I felt ashamed, of course, but also angry at myself. Not only was I working at a job I hated, but I was living at my parents, wanking in front of a computer watching porn. If I wanted to keep any dignity, this had to stop. I had to find a job, a real one. One that would allow me to leave my parents and not hate myself.

I'm not sure how the idea came to me, maybe because it was around that time that I saw the movie "scarface", with Al Pacino. The main character starts as a dishwasher, and I thought "I'd rather wash dishes than doing this job of substitute teacher". I would not have to deal with annoying kids, and I kind of liked the idea of doing a physical, dirty job as it had some symbolic manliness about it.

So I started to look on the internet and I quickly found out that there are placement companies who, against a small payment, will find you a job as a dish washer in UK, along with accommodation. Officially, it's for foreign students who want to improve their English. My English was already decent so I didn't give a crap about that, I was just interested in finally leaving my parents while earning a living. Honestly at that point I didn't even think about getting laid anymore, I really just wanted to get out.

I applied, and soon enough I got accepted. I resigned from my teaching position and in a matter of a few weeks, I was in the boat to England. I remember that trip on this ship, watching the coast of my native country fading away, and the coast of England showing up slowly. I felt the excitement explorers must have felt back then. I felt the taste of adventure, and the hopes of freedom. I was just happy to finally advancing in life, or at least I had this impression.

The job consisted in washing dishes essentially, but not just that. We also had to clean the kitchen, sort out trash and basically do all non food-related tasks in the kitchen. The exact title position is "kitchen porter". I'll give you the name of the Hotel, I just recalled it recently : the Solent Hotel, in Fareham, a small town in South England.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm French, and I was hired at the same time as an other French guy, called Foued. His name is of arabic origin and it sounds like "Fred" so most people called him "Fred". I called him by his real name, though. Foued and I easily became friends. We were in the same boat after all. He decided to go to England for similar reasons as me, except he thought he couldn't find a job because of racism in France.

We were working full time, as it is quite a big kitchen. In fact, in addition to us, there was an experienced kitchen porter, called Ken, who was also working full time. There was also a fourth one, whose name I forgot, who was working part-time.

It was a tough job, as one can imagine. Especially on Week-Ends. We usually worked in pairs, but on Saturdays it was not rare that the three of us had to be on duty and we still had too much on our hands. Often our shifts ended well past midnight, because we absolutely had to make sure the kitchen is clean and operational for the breakfast next morning.

Foued hated the job. He did it, because he is brave, but it was clear that he was not happy about it. Above all, he was constantly trying to socialize, with the cooks and the waitresses. Sadly he was also trying too hard, and I could see that several members of the staff despised him for that. In an hotel, the kitchen porter position is the lowest in the social ladder, and he resented that very clearly.

Me, I was happy. The job was hard, but it was just as I expected it. I didn't have to deal with people, I just had to obey orders and do stuff. It also felt like good physical exercise. The food was good, I had my own room in an almost empty house. And I was getting paid. Things were great.

Few months passed. I had bought a bicycle and joined a chess club in town (chess had been one of my hobbies since I was a kid) so I made friends outside of work. Ken, the experienced kitchen porter, was my model. He had a long beard and I felt like growing one two. People started to call me the "young Ken". We were both doing our work silently, bravely, and people liked us for that.

Now I have to talk about girls. Let me remind you that I was 25 back then, maybe 26, can't quite remember. There were lots of young women there, but mostly teenage girls. I had most contact with waitresses and housekeeping maids, as we ate in the same dining room. Some of them were very attractive and not too young, but I didn't try anything. I still had no clue how to play the game, so I did not play. I mostly talked only with Foued and Ken, that is other kitchen porters. Foued talked with everyone, so sometimes I joined the conversation, but it never went very far.

One day, a girl employee in the fitness section of the hotel stared at me, not avoiding eye contact. I knew that stare as I had experienced it before. It's the "you're handsome and I want to know you" stare. I was pleasantly disturbed but I did not act on it as I simply did not know what to do. She was cute though, I guess I dodged a bullet because I could totally have fell for her. Anyway, that is to say that the "symbolic manliness" I was talking about earlier was in full effect. Especially since I had grown a beard at that time. Even if I was very low in the social ladder, the fact that I'm tall, fit and of the "silent man who just does his dirty, tough job" type made me attractive, I guess.

It was also during that time that I had my first erection while looking at a real woman. I'm a bit ashamed to admit, but that is a fact : I'm pretty sure that before that, the only erections I had were while watching porn. I had have my heart race while looking at a pretty face or things like that, but never a full hard on. The girl who turned me on was a waitress. She was very young, but with a very developed body, mainly fantastic breasts. She was also obviously very aware of her SMV so she played with it quite a lot and enjoyed teasing the cooks, and I could very well see her play with them from my place in the kitchen. One day, as I was looking at her I got an erection that started slowly but quickly became tough to hide. No one noticed, miraculously.

Apart from that, not much happened during this period, and things could have gone on for a while until I met the two Polish sisters (later I learned that there was a third sister back in Poland).

I first saw them in the dining room during lunch. They were housekeeping maids, and they were eating to the table right next to mine.

I looked at them. I'm pretty sure they noticed I was looking at them, but I did not care. I first looked at the tall, blond one. Later on I learned that she was the younger one, called Lucina IIRC. I thought she was OK, and she was also very tall so for a tall guy like me that's a plus. But then they started to speak in Polish. It was mostly the smaller one who did the talking. Later I learned that she was the eldest, called Marta. She was much smaller, brunette, slightly chubby. Not very pretty, but a bit cute. She was a 5 or a 6. What stroke me about her was her voice. It captivated me. I think I'm a sucker for slav accents. I looked at her quite a bit and with hindsight, I think she noticed and spoke to her sister about me. I bet she was saying "why is this kitchen porter staring at me like that?". But I don't understand Polish at all, so I may never know.

Just to be clear : during that time I was still a virgin. I was masturbating more or less everyday.

A few days after I met the Polish sisters, maybe a few weeks, can't quite remember, those two entered my life much more dramatically. As I've mentioned, so far I was living in an almost empty house. I had one roommate but he was not often there and when he was he was very quiet. One morning, as I was off-duty, the two Polish girls just moved in. I was quite surprised, as I had no idea those accommodations could have occupants of mixed genders. Needless to say, this was quite a change in my life that was about to happen. They moved in the room just above mine, and I could hear everything they said. I could not understand though, as they only spoke Polish between each other.

Inevitably, we had to talk to each other, so we did. We had to set up basic rules for the use of the common facilities : the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom. Standard procedure for cohabitation between roommates, I guess. I got to know them a bit, they got to know me a bit too. Things went fine quite easily, fast.

I loved it. I was fantasizing a bit, which made masturbating even more pleasant, but above all I really enjoyed the feeling of coming back after a long shift to a home full of a friendly female presence. It felt as if I had two wives waiting for me or something. It was very comforting.

I'm not sure how long exactly things kept on this way. Maybe a few months. What I do know is that I got attached to those girls quite a bit, especially the eldest, Marta. She was much more talkative than her sister, who was much better looking but also much colder.

Not sure it is very relevant but here is a small detail that stroke me about these girls. I never ever entered their room but during my walk back to the house I could get a glimpse of what is inside. What I could see was a large mirror, and one day I could see one of the sisters (not sure which one, can't remember) admiring herself into it, in a way that reminded me of a children tale. "Women really are narcissistic and obsessed by their looks", was what I was thinking then.

It was around that time that something dramatic happened. When I was on an evening shift, the first thing I used to do when coming back home was to get a shower. After all this was a dirty job so before going to sleep I needed to wash myself. So that night, around midnight I guess since that's the time my shift usually ended, I came back home and the girls were awake. I saw Lucina in the kitchen and I told her "I'm going to use the bathroom, I hope that's ok". Not sure what she answered but she did not object or anything. So I climb the stairs, head towards the bathroom, and I don't knock.

I should have knocked, I guess. But I didn't. I opened the door and Marta was there, naked. She was squatting, and she looked at me shocked and surprised, standing up to grab a towel or something. While she did stand up I could see a bit more of her body. I apologized, closed the door and walked back downstairs.

To virgin guys who read this, to those who have never seen a naked woman with their own eyes, let me tell you : it is just not the same as from a flat, low resolution picture. The sight of a naked woman does have a magical power on men.

It was a bit of a shock. That night, I fantasized about this girl more than ever and yes, I masturbated thinking about her, while she was sleeping in the room right above my head.

This was the bathroom incident. We never talked about it until much, much later (after I went to see the prostitutes).

To this day, the big question is : did she plan that? I tend to think she did. As I see it, she knew a kitchen porter earns a decent amount of money and can even support a family with such a wage (Ken for instance is married). It was quite obvious that I was, if not virgin, at least not very experienced with women. Also later when I got to know her better, I learned that she indeed knows men quite a lot and sees them as providers. So yes, I think she planned the bathroom incident, hoping I would have a go at her and become overly attached. I can not know for sure, but there was a lock on this door, and she did not use it. What woman lets a door open in a bathroom when she's naked inside it, if she doesn't want someone to see her?

Anyway obviously from that point my feelings for her grew even more. Not only was I emotionally attached (as she was the comforting female presence when I came back from work), but she also was a girl I wanted to have sex with, and with whom I had a beginning of intimacy (since I saw her naked).

I did not do shit, though. I kept on as if nothing happened. Maybe it was because I did not know what to do, maybe it was because I was scared, but also maybe because deep down, I could feel this was a trap. Remember, this girl was a five or six. I couldn't help but think something had to be terribly wrong with me if I fall for a girl like that. So I did nothing, and waited for something to happen.

And something did happen.

At some point, I took a week or two (can't remember) holiday. I went back to France and saw my parents. During the time at my parents, I was thinking a lot about my two "wives", as I was almost considering them as such. I was looking forward to see them again.

When I came back, things had changed at the house. The girls now had an orbiter. He was an English employee at the Hotel, his name was Garry IIRC. He was a general porter I think, that is he does pretty much anything people tell him to do. Carrying luggage, setting up tables, whatever. His strategy was pretty simple : befriend and pretend you're not sexually interested, get close and eventually get your dick wet. So he was often at the house with the sisters, taking Polish lessons. Because of course he told them he wanted to learn Polish. The girls loved him. He eventually entered their room, and he stayed there until late in the evening. I could hear everything, but this time I could understand, since they were mostly speaking English. One night, he stayed the whole night. I do not know what happened exactly but from what I heard I could understand that he just slept on the floor next to the girls. "Like an obedient dog", is what I thought.

I thought his "seduction" strategy was despicable. Yet I had to admit that it worked. He spent more and more time, the girls were more and more laughing and having a good time with him.

I was jealous. Mad jealous. It was seriously bad. I was happy with a platonic relationship, but this was unbearable. I had to do something, and I did. I did something very stupid but in a way, very effective.

One evening, I decided to talk to Marta and tell her everything I had on my heart.

I was firmly decided, but she was not in the house yet. I had to wait for her to come back, and I was too excited for that. I had to talk to someone. Foued wasn't there either so I went to the house next door, where a few cooks were living. I didn't know them well but I needed to talk to someone.

I knocked, one of the guys answered and let me him. I talked, I told him my story, how I felt and what I was about to do. Later, he told Foued how flabbergasted he was that I just told him all this stuff. To him, I was the most ridiculous man he's ever seen. He was probably right, to be fair. The day after, the whole Hotel would know the situation, and everybody would mock me, at least silently.

While I was talking to the guy, I saw Marta coming back. So I left and joined the house. I was still resolved on confronting her, and I did.

I told her I needed to talk. In the living room, I told her I was uncomfortable with Garry spending so much time in the house, that it made me jealous because I liked her. I never used the words "I love you", but I did say "I like you", which is basically just as bad in England, as Foued explained me later. I just told her exactly how I felt, in complete honesty.

It didn't take long. She was shocked and amused. In the end she told me she agreed to receive Garry in the house less often.

I had done something that was totally ridiculous and would condemn me of mockery from the Hotel staff for a long while, but at that time, I felt absolutely fantastic. Telling the truth of my feelings, so bluntly, relieved me of a huge weight on my heart and shoulders. It felt like I could suddenly breathe again. Frankly, I did not care at all that she was clearly not interested in me, or at least not as much as I was.

That night, I slept like a baby.

The next day, I had to face the humiliation. The whole kitchen staff knew about the drama, and they mocked me quite mercilessly. Especially the guy I had talked to. It was fairly easy to withstand, I was still relieved to have discharged my heart, that was what mattered to me at that point. Foued felt bad for me. He told me that I should never have talked about that to anyone but him, and he was probably right. But he also told me something interesting : "nobody will blame you for falling in love". He was right about that too : even if people were mocking me, they were not mocking me nearly as much as I would have expected to. I could still feel a form of sympathy.

As for Garry and his visits to the house, Marta kept her promise, at least for a few days. During about a week indeed, I did not see him the house anymore. I was relieved, but on the other hand my fear of seeing him come back increased. And he did come back, slowly but surely.

His visits sounded also more intimate. I felt terrible, much worse than before. Now that I had drawn the most powerful weapon I could imagine, my total honesty, what was I supposed to do? Kick the guy out of the house? I had no right. Beat him up? I'm no violent man.

I saw no solution. One night, I could hear enough to understand that they were having sex. That was it, he eventually won, and I lost. I felt worse than ever. Something had to happen, but that time, it couldn't come from me anymore, it would have to come from destiny. I needed help from fate, and I got it.

Every week, I rode my bicycle to the chess club in town. It's quite a long road and it goes through a rural section, with poorly maintained roads. That evening, I was very upset and I was pedaling very fast, as it felt like a way to exhort my feelings. It was dark. My bike had lights but it was still fairly dark.

On the way there is a particular spot with a nasty hole in the middle of the road. Every time I cycle there I have to be careful to avoid that hole. That hole on this road changed my life.

I was pedaling very fast, and I was thinking and thinking of all my troubles, not finding any solution. I did not see the hole, I had forgotten about it.

I remember pedaling, and I remember the feeling of suddenly flying in the air, and suddenly feeling something hitting my head very hard. And then nothing.

When I gained consciousness, I did not see anything. I could feel a female hand caressing my hair, trying to comfort me. I could hear a man talking, I could hear the noise of a car engine nearby. A couple had found me unconscious on the road, and called an ambulance.

I had fell down, and I was on my way to the hospital. I had broken my left arm and I had a nasty wound on the top of my right eye.

I recall spending three days in that hospital. I received a visit from Foued, and that's it.

The doctors told me that I would never be able to fully extend my arm anymore. Thankfully, months later I found out that they were wrong.

I didn't have to pay anything for the medical bills. When I got out, I was told that it was paid by "the Queen". Well then I guess : thanks, your Majesty.

Back to the hotel, the situation was fairly simple : I was unable to work for at least three months. It was agreed that I should go back to France, get my health back, and then come back to work. I would receive sick pay in the meantime.

I was pretty miserable on my way back. When I first came to England in that ship, I was full of hope and excitement. When I came back, I was confused, sad and ashamed.

Back in my parents home, I was kind of back to square one. In fact, worse than that: since now I had a broken arm and an ugly face. People could get depressed with much less than that.

My cast went off after a few weeks, but my arm was still weak and needed reeducation. Every other day, I saw a physiotherapist that showed me what to do to gain mobility in my arm.

During those weeks I had nothing to do but re-educate my arm and think about my life. How could all this happen? What the hell is wrong with me? What should I do?

I don't remember how the idea came to me, but I do remember that it came suddenly. "I must lose my virginity", I thought. This was the reason I was so dumb. This was why I fell for a 5-6 woman just because I lived next to her.

But how could I? Prostitution was the obvious answer, but in France there is no decent way to buy prostitutes. Then I remembered that there are places in Europe where prostitution is well organized. Wasn't there a city somewhere where prostitutes work through windows or something? Time to do an internet search.

That day, I learned about the red light district in Amsterdam.

I had to make a plan. I had to wait for my arm to be in better shape. About a few weeks. I had to book a train ticket and a room in an hotel. I had to take money, lots of it, and in cash. Fortunately I did have money from my work as a kitchen porter. So I did all this. I then had a firm resolution in my mind. In a few weeks, I will finally get to know what sex is all about. Or at least I will make a serious attempt at trying to figure it out.

Few weeks later, I was on my way. I told my parents that I would be absent for three days. They didn't ask anything. My father kind of guessed it "he's going to see the prostitutes", he said jokingly. I didn't deny.

I went. What happened there, and what happened when I eventually did come back to the Solent Hotel, is an other long story.

In any case, this is the sequence of events that lead me to decide to see prostitutes.

I hope some of you guys can gain from my experience and my mistakes.