"Fuck me, those are the biggest tits in the world."

Russell Nolan didn't know what to say. He sat there and stared at the blonde stripper, his mouth agape.

They were balloons. That was the only description that seemed apt. The girl had stepped out on stage with two large, flesh-coloured balloons attached to her chest. Dark pink nipples wobbled at the centre of each enormous breast.

"Fuck, who'd have thought that drug-addled muppet was actually telling the truth for a change."

"Hey, isn't this that place Stuey was talking about?" Russell asked.

"Don't tell me you believe that story," Jack Meyer snorted disdainfully. "Girls with breasts the size of beach balls, yeah right."

They stood outside a sleazy little club somewhere down a side street off Reeperbahn. A short yellow sign promising 'XXX Sex!' and 'Live Nude Girls!' stood in the middle of the alley. Equally lurid slogans were lit up on the fascia of the club. Faded pictures of girls of varying degrees of attractiveness and in varying degrees of undress were displayed in glass cabinets on either side of the entrance.

It looked a seedy little dive, same as all the other seedy little clubs and sex shops they'd seen while walking down Reeperbahn. They wouldn't have paid it a second glance had Russell not noticed the name, 'Gomorrah', over the door and recalled Stuey's story from the pub that lunchtime.

"Fucking odd name for a strip club," Jack said. "Is it German for something?"

"No. It's from the bible you twonk," Russell said. "A town where the people got up to so much wickedness God burnt it to the ground."

"Wickedness, eh," Jack said, "I reckon it's the time o'night where I might be up for a bit o'that." He nudged Russell with his elbow.

"It's always that time o'night for you," Russell said.

It was fucking late as far as he was concerned, but he needed a piss and he didn't want to worry about some overzealous police officer cracking him on the back of the head while he pissed up a wall. The officious little pricks were already out in force, what with the big Champion's League match tomorrow, and looking for any excuse to bang up travelling fans.

They paid the entrance fee to some nasty streak of krautness on the door and headed down into the dark, sweaty interior of the club. The stairs were tacky and stuck to the soles of Russell's shoes.

Inside was pretty much as Russell expected. A naked girl gyrated around a pole and while she wasn't exactly bad looking, her eyes gleamed with a hunger he found a little unsettling. He was used to seeing his strippers look plain bored. Other girls were hidden in the shadows on the other side of the room, only the embers of their lighted cigarettes providing any indication they were there at all.

There was at least one positive in the voice of the announcer. It was smooth and sultry, like velvet. She spoke into the mic like she was pleasuring it.

Because it was late, or maybe because the club was just a straight-up shit-hole, the only other punters were a pair of drunken British tourists and a twitchy bloke with too much facial hair.

"Two to one they wake up tomorrow without their wallets," Jack said.

The other lads were definitely the worse for wear. Both were staring blearily around the room and trying not to nod off in their beers. The twitchy guy just looked nuts. He stared around the room with mad eyes and nursed his drink like it was his life savings.

Russell took a leak in a small, filthy toilet and returned to a beer that was maybe a few degrees below room temperature. He and Jack sat and supped their beers while not much at all happened. Cigarettes continued to glow in the shadows at the far end of the room, crap euro-pop continued to pump out of squeaky speakers and the stage remained conspicuously empty.

So it was one of those places, Russell thought.

"Fuck this right off," Jack said, draining the last of his warm lager.

Then the music changed and the announcer came back on.

"Gentlemen, we have a special treat for you," she whispered into the mic in sultry, accented English. "Yes, it's time for a show from our very own Mistress Eve Satana."

Russell and Jack paused.

"Now I know you naughty boys think you've seen tits, but I can guarantee you've never seen tits like these before."

So was this the girl Stuey had got all excited about?

"Prepare yourself for the peaks of pleasure, the boobs of bliss, the mammaries of majesty. Please give a warm welcome to the incomparable Madam Eve Satana."

"Evens she's over forty with tits hanging down to her knees," Jack chuckled.

Jack lost that bet.

"Fuck me, those are the biggest tits in the world," he repeated.

"They can't be real," Russell said.

"Well d'uh," Jack laughed.

"No, I mean they can't be unreal real," Russell said. "They're too big. It's got to be a trick of some kind. They like their weird shows here, you remember that strip club we walked past, with the photos of the girls all made-up like vampires."

"Seems a lot of effort for a shit-hole like this," Jack said

That left what? She was a freak of nature.

They were enormous. Stuey really hadn't been that far off with his talk of beach balls. Russell had no idea how she could even carry the weight. They had to be heavy, yet she showed no sign of it. Neither they nor she sagged in any discernible way. She remained perfectly upright throughout and moved with a surprising amount of grace. Her dance, if it could be described as such, involved her walking to the pole and rubbing her breasts up and down it, but she showed such poise, such precise control over her movements, that she made the more active strippers Russell had seen in other clubs look like clumsy amateurs.

Every movement exuded eroticism and she wasn't afraid to meet and challenge the stares of the men watching her. Her directness unnerved Russell a little, scared him even.

Jack was completely entranced. He couldn't look away as she lay on the stage and moved her hips up and down as she humped the floor. Her breasts were so big they rested under her like those exercise balls Russell occasionally saw advertised on TV. She bounced and stared suggestively in their direction, a pink tongue running over her full pink lips.

"Fuck, what I'd give to be under those right now," Jack said wistfully.

"I'd rather be on top," Russell said.

"Oh yeah, bouncy," Jack chuckled, nudging Russell with his elbow.

"Fuck that, I'm worried about being flattened," Russell

Even though her breasts were gigantic, the rest of the blonde stripper's body was surprisingly trim. Without them she'd still be eye-catching.

"Some of these clubs are a bit more, if you know what I mean," Jack said. "What do you reckon... ?" he asked.

"Don't be fucking daft," Russell said. "The missus would murder me if she found out. And she would, don't ask me how. It's bad enough I've got to worry about one of you twonks letting slip with what we've already got up to this week."

"You let her boss you around too much," Jack guffawed.

The stripper with the enormous breasts got up, blew them a kiss and then walked off behind the curtain at the back of the stage. Jack's gaze followed her all the way.

Russell thought that would be the end of the evening, but Jack flagged down a skimpily-clad waitress and ordered another couple of beers. Oh well, he couldn't exactly let beer go to waste.

They were about a third of the way through their drinks when the sultry-voiced announcer sidled up and insinuated herself on the seat next to Russell.

"Eh up," Jack muttered into his pint.

"Hello. British?" she asked, her voice smooth like velvet.

They nodded in reply.

She was quite attractive. Her willowy body was hidden behind a purple, crushed velvet dress, probably to distinguish herself from the other girls in the club. Her dusky face was curtained on either side by waterfalls of tight black ringlets. Gypsy stock maybe, Russell thought.

"Here for the fussball?"

They nodded again.

"The whole city is excited about the match," the girl continued. "I hope our boys put up a good fight, but I fear they are a little outmatched."

"Hamburger SV are a good side," Jack said, "they don't have the money of Liverpool though."

The announcer leaned forward. "I hope they lose," she whispered conspiratorially. "Happy tourists are generous tourists."

"Business first, eh," Jack said.

"Always," the announcer smiled, her eyes twinkling.

And what exactly was that business? Russell thought. Over on the other table a girl was sitting on either side of the drunken British lads, although they seemed too inebriated to notice.

"I have a proposal for you," she said.

"Here it comes," Jack said.

The announcer glanced at Jack.

"Don't mind me luv," Jack said, holding out his hands. "Go right ahead."

The announcer opened her mouth to speak.

"No," Jack cut her off. He guffawed and nudged Russell.

The announcer looked quizzically at him.

"Sorry luv. We know all about Hamburg. A friend of ours paid out four hundred euros last night and only got a hand job. I don't intend adding a hundred euro glass of shit champagne to the Reeperbahn tourist tax."

Russell waited for an explosion that never came. Instead the girl just smiled sadly.

"So you've heard of our city's poor reputation," she said. "The girls are stupid and greedy. They squeeze and squeeze the tourists and give out nothing. They complain about business being bad while robbing the few that still come. Reeperbahn is dying. No one comes here. They go to Prague or Poland where the girls are cheaper and don't try to trick them. It makes it harder for the real businesses left."

"Real?" Jack said. "So you weren't going to get us to buy you a ludicrously over-costed glass of shit champagne?"

"Oh no," the announcer said, her eyes glittering again. "I have a far more interesting proposal for you."

"Go on," Jack said. They were both still suspicious, but their interest had been piqued.

The announcer looked back to the curtained off area behind the stage. "Did you like Eve Satana's show?" she asked.

"She's a girl with a couple of fine assets," Jack said.

"Would you like to fuck her?" she asked.

They gave it some thought.

"How much?" Jack asked.

"One hundred euros," the announcer said.

"And are we talking real fucking here?" Jack asked. "Some of the girls round here seem to have problems translating that word. They seem to think it means giving you a wank or rubbing your cock against their neck while they pretend to give you a blow job."

"Yes, real fucking," the announcer said. "Your dick in her cunt. No tricks. No asking for more money."

Jack thought about it.

"There is one condition though," the announcer said.

Jack's face creased with suspicion.

"You fuck her out there. On the stage."

Both Russell and Jack were temporarily lost for words.

"At this time of night we like to put on a special show," the announcer said, "with audience participation."

"You want me to fuck her out there, in front of everyone?" Jack said.

"Ah, the famous English shyness," the announcer said. "I should have known it would be too much."

She was about to turn and walk away when Jack reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Hold on just a minute luv," Jack said. "Let's be careful throwing out those stereotypes shall we. We're not all pussy-whipped Hugh Grants."

He pulled out his wallet and slapped a hundred euro note down onto the table.

"Bring her fucking on."

The announcer smiled, picked it up and then asked his name.

"Are you sure about this?" Russell asked once the announcer had walked back to her little booth.

"Can't look bad in front of the Germans can I," Jack said. He started to unbutton his shirt.

"You've got some fucking balls," Russell said.

"Big brass uns," Jack said as he stripped right down to a pair of boxers covered in the red cross of St. George.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, freaks and angels, we now come to a very special part of the night," the announcer breathed into the mic.

The curtain was pulled back and a round bed covered in soft black leather was pushed out onto the stage. Eve Satana lay on it, her breasts resting on the smooth black surface.

"Right now, for your very own viewing pleasure, the exceptionally endowed Mistress Eve Satana is going to have sex with one of you lucky guys in the audience."

"Now this will be a story for the fuckers back home," Jack said.

"Yer fucking mad," Russell said.

"Look at them," Jack said. "You can't tell me you'd turn down an opportunity to grope those."

"Maybe," Russell said, "if it wasn't for the GBH Betty would inflict on me once I got back home."

"Pussy," Jack laughed.

"That's right, you heard me correctly," the announcer continued. "A real life sex show right before your eyes and one of your own will be taking part."

A mangy old spotlight shone down on Jack's naked and very hairy back.

"Please give a big hand to Jack."

Jack put his hands above his head and bounced up and down like one of those morons from a reality TV show. Sardonic applause came from the shadows at the back of the room.

"So will our brave English explorer be able to scale Eve Satana's mountainous peaks."

Jack clambered up on stage and mugged for the audience. He reached the edge of the bed and hesitated a little. Even the brassiest of balls still shrank at the prospect of dropping their keks and fucking some tart right in front of everyone.

Eve Satana reached out and languidly hooked a finger over the elastic of Jack's boxers and pulled him forwards until his thighs rested against the side of the bed. She pulled them down until his cock bounced back up like a fleshy jack-in-the-box. She placed one hand on the root and held him in place as her full lips wrapped around the head.

"See how Madam Eve Satana gets our brave little Englander all prepped up for his expedition with her outstanding oral skills."

Fuck this was hot, Russell thought. He watched as she bobbed up and down on Jack's cock, taking in the entire length. It was like watching a real fucking live porno. His cock stiffened in his pants and his hand involuntarily crawled into his lap.

Fuck Betty, Russell thought. He wished it was him up there.

Eve Satana released Jack's cock from her mouth with a loud smacking sound. A strand of precum dribbled down her chin. She sat up and tapped the surface of the bed. Jack needed little encouragement to clamber up and join her.

"I think that's got our little Englander in the mood to overcome his inhibitions," the announcer said.

Jack turned and gave her the finger before turning back to Eve Satana.

She really was a big girl, Russell thought. It was easy to let those breasts distract you from how tall she actually was. She was a real amazon. With both of them on their knees next to each other it was easy to see the contrast that hadn't been present while she'd been alone on the stage.

The breasts were so large Jack actually looked at a loss as to what he should do. He cupped the nipples in his hands and had a grope. His hands looked like a child's.

"See how huntress Eve Satana lures her prey in..." the announcer said.

Jack tried to embrace the blonde stripper, but her breasts were too large for him. Even after squeezing right into her cleavage he still couldn't get close enough to kiss her.

" ... and springs her trap."

Eve Satana pulled Jack's leg with one hand and pushed him in the chest with the other. He fell backwards and she fell on top of him, her breasts pinning him to the bed. She smiled at the crowd while Jack flapped around ineffectually underneath her. Giggles emanated from the glowing cigarettes on the other side of the room.

Russell chuckled. You walked right into that one sunshine, he thought. He supposed Jack had got his wish. He wanted to be underneath those breasts after all.

Eve Satana reached underneath her waist and then pouted at the audience as she began to hump her hips up and down. Was she actually fucking him? It was hard to see although Jack did look more than a little pleased with himself. Russell wasn't sure he could exactly describe it as erotic. It looked a little ridiculous, like a man engaged in a wrestling match with two weather balloons.

"Now with her prey pinned Mistress can have her way with our poor little Englander."

Things were getting good and sweaty on the bed. Eve Satana was bouncing her hips up and down. Her breasts rocked back and forth on Jack's chest. He was grunting. She was groaning with pleasure.

Dirty bastard, Russell smiled. Jack hadn't even stuck a rubber johnny on. What odds would Jack give him on a trip to the STD clinic when he got back home? Jack should know better, especially after that dose of the clap he picked up after they went to see England play in Riga last year.