Back when I was younger, I was a drunk and a violent psychopath. I also hung out with other drunken violent psychopaths. Specifically, my room-mate and best friend, John Bomber. Now, Bomber was from Texas, as tough as bad beef jerky, a farm boy and a bull rider, with almost no common sense and an appetite for adrenaline.

We had a kind of ritual in my old unit. This was in West Germany, in the bad old days of the late 80's, when there were anti-American protests, anti-nuclear protests, and all of that fun stuff. But those don't really matter. What matters is that there were brothels. Lots and lots of brothels. Full of women who you could hand the equivelant of $20USD to, fuck the hell out, then leave and not have to worry about a relationship.

Since the women in our unit were outnumbered about 10 to 1 and were all as mean as rattle snakes with a sore tooth, hookers were always a better idea than they were. And to keep all the young bucks from doing stupid, we made a monthly trip to the whore houses in Frankfurt, taking newbies and whoever wanted to go.

One weekend I was back at the unit for a reason known only to God and CO, and it was time for the monthly tour of the whore houses. I was about half-blasted at the time, and convinced my room-mate John Bomber to come along with me and we'd escort the newbies to the whore-house and have a good time.

The drive to Frankfurt was about 2 or 3 hours, and we left about 1700 on a Friday. I was already drunk, so I slept during the trip. We had 4 cruits, the driver, Bomber, and me.

It was dusk when we hit the whore houses, and the first thing I hit was the bar, John with me. A couple shots of Wild Turkey and a nice crystal wiessen and I was strak, ready to go. John hit a couple of shots, and he was ready for business.

The 'cruits had vanished, probably blowing all their money on handjobs.

To cut a long story short, John and I ended up wandering around the whorehouse, which was 4 stories, escorted by a bouncer and a pink haired whore that I had about half my arm jammed into. We were checking on the 'cruits, and seeing the sights.

Now, for those of you who don't know, the top floor is where the whorehouses usually hide the worst of the worst. The women who cater to specific fetishes or are for the desperate. Up there are the amputees, the horridly obese, and the downright ugly.

Pink hair has her tongue in my ear like she's stealing my thoughts, I've got my hand jammed in her at least wrist deep, with a bottle of Wild Turkey in my other hand, the bouncer is waving us deeper and deeper into Hedonismbot's House of Horrors, and John is tromping along behind me wearing only his cowboy boots, his bull riding belt, and his cowboy hat. His dick is waving around like a dowsing rod, and he's grumbling that he wants to see something new. Hell with all the typical whores, he wants something new.

Then John sees her.

She's six foot if she's an inch. She weighs easily 300 pounds. But she'd not pear shaped, she's solid the whole way, with massive arms and tree-trunk legs. She's covered in a fine layer of black body hair, from head to toe. She has a hair back, hairy breasts, hairy stomach, what looks like a 2 day growth of beard, and long black stringy hair. She's eating donuts and watching what looks like American Bandstand on a flickering black and white television from her bed covered in dirty sheets.

"Ant, I gotta do that." John slurs, leaning against the doorway and staring at the bearded whore.

"Huh?" I turn from where I'm paying attention to pink-hair's tits.

"Tell her I want to ride her like a bull." John tells the bouncer, who gets a look like John just asked to shit in his shoes. He yanks out a wad of 100 DM bills big enough to choke a horse. "200 Marks to ride her, if she throws me it's another 500 Marks, and either way I get to fuck her for another 100."

The bouncer rattles it back, throwing in "Crazy American Cowboy" in there. The bearded whore's face lights up, and she sets aside the donuts and gets on all fours. I lean against the wall, swilling out of the bottle while I watch this shit.

She stands up, and she's bigger than I thought. Built like a pro wrestler, muscle marbled with fat, she's probably an East German Olympic power lifter or some shit, but John's brain has shut down. He holds out his hand for my belt, and I pull my belt off and hand it to him, pink-hair's hand diving into my pants and beginning to stroke.

He motions to her to get on all fours, which she does after he throws a handful of 50 DM bills on the table, and he climbs up on the bed and throws a leg over her, straddling her and loops the belt around. The bearded whore clamps her jaws on the belt, John digs in his heels and yells out "GIDDYUP!"

The whore goes berserk. She bucks, whirls, trying to throw John off. I'm laughing, the bouncer is laughing, other whores are coming out to see what all the racket is. Pink hair is yelling out encouragement to the bearded whore, who's just going apeshit.

John has his hat in one hand, swatting her ass and side with it, hauling on the belt with the other, and digging his heels into her. They go crashing off the bed, onto the floor. I'm yelling at him to hold on, the bouncer is yelling for her to roll him, pink hair is yelling that she's got it, that the 500 DM are hers, and the other whores are cheering.

She manages to get Bomber off rhythm, and finally bucks him off. He goes sailing through the air, cowboy hat still in his hand, crashes off the wall, and slams through a coffee table. Instead of laying there stunned, he jumps back up, tackles the whore, and fucks her right there on the floor. The bearded whore keeps the belt in her mouth, bucking and yanking away from John, making him work for every minute of it.

I'm just blown away.

When he's done, he peels off the money he promised, then makes it an even 1,000 DM, and staggers out into the hallway, panting and grinning, still wearing nothing but his belt, his boots, and his hat.

As we're staggering downstairs, he bumps me with his shoulder.

"Soooo worth it to ride and then fuck a Bigfoot, eh, Ant?"