Heather wrote and wanted to know if for the benefit of the ladies, I'd care to share some of my more popular blow job techniques.
Sure, I thought. However, when I contemplated it, I realized that the Mechanical Guide to Good Head didn't need to be re-written by me. Anyone can find dozens of really great tips for what to do with your tongue and lips and hands by just doing a Google search on 'fellatio.'
I've asked numerous lovers to try to give me some insight on what it is that I do that makes it good. A blow job doesn't seem like rocket science to me, so the idea that I have some kind of mechanical skill that lots of other women don't have just seemed kind of preposterous. So, I've asked and been met with a lot of "I don't know. It's just....you're just....uh, I really don't know what it is." I've suggested that perhaps it's enthusiasm for the task? "Yeah, it's that, sure, but there's something else, too." The smartest and best of those lovers told me it was empathy.
I had a boyfriend in high school, and like most teenagers that are sexually active, we were like bunny rabbits. We spent a great deal of time having sex which I greatly enjoyed, but I never orgasmed. I realized after a year of this almost constant sex what the issue was--why I wasn't coming. It was because I wasn't ever fully in the moment. If we were fooling around in a parked car, I'd be thinking about getting caught by the police. If we were fooling around in my bedroom, I'd be thinking about the fact that my Mom was downstairs or my sister might just burst in at any moment or that I really should be doing my Calculus homework. So, for the most part, I was having fun but it was distracted fun. I wasn't 'in the moment.'
When I had this little epiphany and started focusing on exactly what was going on, vs. thinking about other things, I started having orgasms. Something extra came along with figuring out how important focus was during sex--I started becoming very aware of my partner. Once I learned to pay attention to the way my own body was feeling, I think I just naturally started paying very close attention to the reactions I was able to provoke in my partner. I know this seems like common sense and everyone thinks, yeah, yeah, I pay attention during sex. But do you really? Now think about the best sex you've had, and I'd be willing to bet that a good part of the reason it was the best then is because you were both totally in the moment with one another.
When a client is paying me for my attentions, hopefully that's what he's getting--my full attention. Ideally, I'm able to not think about anything else besides how I'm making him feel. Obviously there are situations that occur where I'm not able or don't want to put myself into that mindset, but more often than not that's what I'm doing. I'm listening to what he has to say, thinking about it, watching him, looking in his eyes...just being fully present. What I do next with my lips or my hands or my tongue just happens based on how I imagine what I am doing actually feels to him. I don't have any sort of set Blow Job Technique. There's no step by step. I just focus on his eyes and the rest just happens.
Normally I address reader comments in the actual comments section for each post, but this one so baffled me that I feel it deserves an actual post.
However, I have always assumed somehow you would be outed - although I expected it to be by a client who publishes your advertisement/photo etc. I guess you one day expect that and its part of the thrill?
I don't understand how anyone could possibly think that I would get a thrill out of being 'outed' by a client. That's not thrilling, it's disturbing. Perhaps there are folks out there that would get their jollies out of that scenario, but most certainly not me. Do you think I actually inform my clients that I have a blog and that it's likely I'm going to finish up with them and then publish the experience for all the world to read? Please. You guessed wrong. However, I've obviously thought about the possibility that exists that my blog could be discovered by someone who I've already seen as a client, and I suppose I just have to hope that the client had an enjoyable enough time with me to not wish to go fucking things up for me by sending my photograph all over the internet.
And while I'm addressing comments, I might as well address this one, too:
Does it make you feel different now that you've been outed? To know that someone you love and respect is reading this? Will you self-censor in ways you didn't before? Do you feel somehow less free?
First of all, I haven't been 'outed.' I've been simply been discovered by someone I assumed would eventually come across the blog and suspect me as being the author anyway. Big huge difference. By the way, I didn't have some plan for how I'd deal with it when it happened, I just figured I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. The discovery just happened much quicker than I'd assumed it would.
As far as feeling different is concerned, I suppose that I do, yes. The feeling I've always had that my relationship with Y is a very rare and special gift is just more cemented in my mind. The only real difference in the way I feel is that I'm just more certain about that fact. I don't feel like knowing he's reading this blog is going to make me censor anything, actually. If anything, I feel more free than I did before. (And if that's sappy, well...whatever. I'll get back to the salacious stuff later.)
Actually, I'll get to salacious right now. There is no time like the present, right?
I've been offered a chance to pee in someone's mouth in exchange for cash and photographs. Goodness, no. While I'm a pretty damn open-minded chica, I've never understood the whole watersports/scat concept. I just don't get it. I can't wrap my mind around it. If someone could offer some insight on that whole arena of sexuality, feel free to comment.
Imagine my surprise this morning when I got an IM that says "Have you seen this?" And there was a link to this blog, my blog, right there in the little chat window.
I was chatting with my best friend, Y.
My initial reaction was to pretend I hadn't seen it, much less wrote it, but I knew he didn't believe me. He let me pretend, just as I'd have let him. However, he's not even remotely stupid. He knows me so very well. The way I write and the things I say and how I think. We arranged to have lunch today and I decided I'd just tell him in person. I wanted it to be a face to face discussion with eye contact and all.
So we have lunch and I keep thinking, ok, I'm going to just bring it up. But I didn't. I don't know why. I was there, sitting across from this person who I feel the most comfortable being totally me with, who doesn't ever judge me, who totally just gets me (and vice versa) AND with whom I've shared some of the best ever sexual experiences of my life ----and I didn't know how to just bust out with the truth! There were quite a few pregnant pauses. It was a little surreal, since I knew he knew I knew he knew. One of the things I love so much about Y is that he didn't pressure me about it at all. He just cooly pointed out to me that's he'd read it and that was that. He knew that when I was ready I'd spill. Exactly the way I'd have handled it, if the tables were turned.
So after lunch, we're sitting in my car and I'm still not spilling. And all this time elapses. We're yakking at each other, as we're wont to do, but he's got to get back to work and I know this and I know I have to SAY SOMETHING. But there is no one on earth I like kissing more than Y, and I wanted a kiss first before I came out with it, in case when I did tell him he was so horrified at me that he never wanted another kiss. I'm so silly sometimes.
So I get my lovely kiss and then take a deep breath and I look right at him and say, "So you're quite the Sherlock Holmes." And he starts to laugh. And so then I told him about how I knew he didn't believe me earlier, and how I knew that if anyone was going to find the blog and recognize it was me it would have been him. So I talked and talked and he sat and listened and smiled, and finally I stopped and said, "Are you judging me? Um..." And he said something to the effect of "God no, of course not. I think it's....hot." And then he grinned at me like he does and smooched me some more.
I'm really so very pleased and totally relieved to have had that conversation. If I planned to continue the charade with him I would have had to have taken great pains to never reveal anything even remotely personal ever again, just to make sure he definitely didn't really think it was me. I would have felt like I had to censor myself. Also, I've always been totally honest with him about everything, and I have felt pretty strange about keeping this secret from him anyway. I should have known it would have been ok to discuss with him.
Life can be so weird and good sometimes.
I've been metafiltered.
I've just read all the comments over there at www.metafilter.com regarding this blog. Apparently there are those that think I'm a male pornographer somehow looking to make a buck. Another said that the fact that I like to have a cup of coffee first and my clients actually talk to me is 'too cute.' I quote, "I get the impression that in real life the average john is about as interested in talking to a hooker as he is to striking up a conversation with a side of beef in a butcher's shop."
OK. I guess I've seen mostly above average johns then. (And I wonder just who that commenter is getting their impressions from? Do they speak to a lot of 'johns?")
People can speculate all they wish about my real-ness. I've chosen not to let it bother me. I know I'm a real person and I think most of you do, too. Why do I blog, people wish to know. I blog for the same reason I do a lot of other things--because I can and because I enjoy it. It's pretty simple, really. Is it so odd that I like being able to share what's going on inside my head with people who are interested in what I have to say? I like the feedback, both good and bad. It's all food for thought. I'm actually kind of surprised that most of the mail I get is more 'you go girl," rather than 'you're going to burn in hell' stuff.
I had an appointment this morning with a new client--a very pleasant, polite and handsome Scandanavian IT guy. The only remarkable thing about our meeting was that he was married with a young baby. I've started to notice a trend. I've had my share of new fathers at this point. I guess for brand new moms sex is probably the last thing on their minds so it's no wonder.
I've been asked by a number of readers what I'd do if a wife ever came home while I was there. I think I would probably just let the husband handle the wife and I would leave as quickly as possible and hope she doesn't shoot me before I can go. I'm not sure how else you could handle something like that, really. I'm pretty non-conflict oriented in general, so I don't think I'd want to stick around for any drama that would be sure to ensue.
A regular got in touch this morning wanting to know if he could give me as a gift to his best friend for his birthday.
I find that funny.
But I'm also slightly concerned. I guess I want to know if this is going to be some kind of surprise, or if the friend will be informed beforehand about what his present is. I'm sure it would be completely and utterly uncomfortable if I just showed up and Birthday Boy is mortified at the whole concept. I suppose I'll have to make sure that it's not a surprise, or if my regular insists that it be a surprise, that I arrange to get paid regardless of whether or not Birthday Boy wants his present or not.
I'll keep you posted, of course.
And speaking of penis size, Jay asked if working girls tell their clients how huge their cocks are, like as part of some Whore Script or something.
If there is such a script, no one has sent it to me yet. The only time I ever mention anything about a guys largess is if his manhood actually is exemplary. And so far, only one has been noteworthy enough for me to comment on it regarding it's grand scale.
For all I know though, it could be part of some escorts' repetoires to stroke not only the client's body, but his ego too. I just don't see the point, myself. I mean, if a guy is average and you're telling him he's gigantic he's going to know you're being flattering and not honest, so why say anything at all? I prefer to comment on his pretty green eyes, or his manly shoulders or his cute ass--something true and real.
A fellow named Eric wrote me last week with some good questions. Unfortunately his questions were the ones I spent all kinds of time answering right before my machine crashed and I lost the post. I'm going to respond in a more abbreviated fashion now. (Better late than never.)
He wanted to know how I went from being shocked at my friend's admission that she'd been escorting to doing it myself. Excellent question. It wasn't as if one second I went from shock to participating myself or anything like that. My shock wasn't really revulsion--I thought, I could never do that, it's just wrong! But that thought lasted for only a short time. As soon as I could evaluate the concept, I changed my mind. Logical thought instead of just accepting a perceived moral truth. And then, once I'd gotten through that, it was more like I'd never considered the idea that a normal person could do such a thing. I'd had this concept in my head that you had to be either extraordinarily attractive in order to be one of the more highly paid call girl types, or you were a $20 crack whore. It never occurred to me that there is a market for a more or less normal woman like myself. Also, I had no idea how to actually go about it. So, over time, I pumped my friend for information and decided, hell, if she can do it, why can't I?
Also, he wanted to know if size matters.
I certainly can't speak for all women when I say that why yes, it does. But it does matter to me. But it's probably not how you think. Believe it or not, every sized penis has it's advantages and disadvantages. (And that's one of the reasons variety is the spice of life.) If I'm in the mood to fuck (vaginally), then there's nothing better than a nice thick cock. But if I'm going to be giving oral sex, give me an average to smaller cock and I'm a happy camper. Once in a while I like to engage in a little backdoor action, and that's when I most prefer a more wee friend. (Although that's not an activity I ever do with clients, regardless of size.) So yes, for me, size does matter--but it matters only in what activities are the most pleasurable, though. I can find something entertaining to do with any sized cock!
Yay Spring. Woot!
Having fun testing new looks for the site. Thanks to Esther for informing me that the new design looks appropriately bordello-ish.
And thanks to Squidfingers.com for the background.
Thanks to the lovely Mistress Matisse for posting this link in her blog:
50 Tips For Prostitutes
Such a timely find. :)
Maybe I'll be long winded tonight because I finally got a new keyboard and won't get frustrated with a sticky shift key anymore. Typing on that old keyboard was an exercise in frustration, to say the least.
Several ladies have written asking how one goes about getting started doing this sort of thing. Anyway...I'm by no means an expert at this, and I certainly don't advise leaping into something like this lightly. I urge you to do your research. There's plenty of information online about sex work and I implore you to do a whole lot of reading before rushing out and setting up shop.
First off, think. How's your self-esteem? Are you assertive and confident? Patient? Do you genuinely like people? Can you talk to anyone? Are you well versed on safe sex practices? Do you have any guilt issues about casual sex? Are you happy being a 'giver' when it comes to sex? Are you good at saying no? Just some stuff to consider. :)
I have no idea how most independent escorts go about getting involved, I only know how my friend and I did it and it was as simple as writing an ad and posting it online. There are numerous web sites where you can place adult ads for free, and before I'd invest any money in advertising one's services, I'd go the free route just to make sure it's something you're actually comfortable doing. You have to be careful how you word your ad, because it's illegal to offer sex for money, so basically you have to imply that's what you're doing, vs. coming right out and saying it. Read a bunch of ads and see what others say and then craft yours to be a bit different. What makes you desirable? Why would a man want to spend his hard earned cash to spend time with you? Think about what makes you special and talk about it in your ad. Also, one thing you can do is do a search on escort web sites and see how they phrase what they're offering. You can also get an idea of what the going rates are for various services in your geographic area that way, too. When I posted my first ad, I was unprepared for the response. I had no idea I'd get so many replies. It became evident rather quickly that no matter what you write, a lot of the men responding to your ad have paid absolutely no attention whatsoever to anything you've said. For instance, you might say in your ad that you're only available during the day and you can't host (that means you're not going to be having them over at your place), and you'll get an inbox full of mail from guys saying, "I'm interested. Where are you located and can I come see you tonight?" It's plenty frustrating. You start to wonder if all men are idiots. However, just keep in mind the old 80/20 rule. Basically, 80% of all your responses will be crap, and 20% will be worth further investigation. Speaking of email, it's a good idea to set up an email account with yahoo or hotmail or one of the other free email services to separate your 'real' email address from your 'working girl' address. Obviously, it's safest not to put your last name on the account.
Be prepared to send a recent photo or two of yourself. Fuzz out your features if you want. I don't, but lots of escorts that advertise online do. I'm sure it's a less effective way to get clients if they can't see what they're getting, but obviously it must work to some degree if people are actually doing it. I have a standard reply that I send to the interesting responses I get (and frankly, like I said, only about 2 out of 10 are worth even sending your standard reply to). Basically I give a physical description, a general outline of my personality, my 'fee for companionship' and when I'm available. I ask for a photo if they haven't already sent me one, and ask when they think they might like to see me. I don't like going into too much detail about specific sexual stuff in these emails because one never knows if you're corresponding with a real prospective client or some kind of law enforcement official, so you have to be very careful. If you're getting a weird vibe from someone it's best to just move on. Better safe than sorry.
Sometimes you play email tag for weeks trying to set something up with someone, and sometimes you advertise in the morning and by noon time you've got your afternoon client scheduled. It can be hit or miss. You have to expect you're going to be blown off sometimes, and that's pretty sucky.
I'm not sure how other girls do it, and maybe I'm unusual, but I generally always make them meet me somewhere public first. A cup of coffee is a good idea, or a drink if it's in the evening. That way, if I get a bad vibe I can excuse myself. I didn't meet first in public once and what a disaster that turned out to be. I've certainly learned my lesson since then and I've become a lot more confident about saying the word "no." It's much easier once you've said no a bunch of times and found out people generally accept it without too much hassle. Also, tell someone where you are going to be and who you are going to be with. Tell your client you're going to do that and if he's not willing to tell you his real name and show you his ID, then you shouldn't be willing to go through with the rest. I've never had a single man refuse to give me this information when I've asked for it.
So that's pretty much it, in a nutshell. I'm sure I've probably forgotten something important, so feel free to comment with questions and I'll do my best to answer them.
Monday I saw a regular and his friend. I would never see two men at once if it was a first appointment since that is particularly dangerous. Everything I've read about being as safe as possible when doing this sort of thing advises against it. However, since I'd met one of the gentlemen before and had a perfectly comfortable and pleasant time, I figured it would fun to get together with him and his buddy. And it most certainly was. And getting paid double doesn't hurt, either. Ha. Apparently his buddy had never come from a blowjob in his life, and my regular thought I'd be the solution to that. I didn't know this when we started, so I wasn't surprised when I got him off, but he most definitely was. I'm kind of glad I didn't know, since then that'd be a lot of pressure. :)
I used to think that whenever a man said he'd never come from a blowjob before, that that was just a lie designed to challenge the woman he's with to go all out and do her very best.
Last night I spent a couple of hours with another regular, the Big Tipping Italian. Apparently he pays attention, because he'd gotten me an iced coffee just the way I like it. I thought that was sweet and kind of ironic, since I was going to stop and get one for myself on the way, but didn't want to be late, so I didn't. And the hotel room was a step above the usual, too. I was a little sad when I finally had to go, since we were having such a lovely time. Sometimes I giggle after I have an orgasm and he seemed to find that pretty amusing. I know he's going to call me again soon though, especially since I saw him in the evening, which isn't something that I normally do. But certain men are just so enjoyable to spend time with that I don't mind making an exception for them.
I'll get to the email Q & A later on today. I think I may finally have my computer issues solved, and I'm praying that this machine doesn't freeze up just as I'm about to hit 'post and publish' in a second!
I wrote a long post yesterday answering a bunch of questions that were posed by readers. And then my machine crashed and I lost it.
Stay tuned if you're waiting for answers from me. They're forthcoming. Really.
Today's public service announcement:
Men, if you'd like your lady friends to pay you better oral attention, shave your balls and trim trim trim the hair down there. Having to stop what one is doing to remove a hair from one's tongue or worse, having to hack it out of one's throat is not at all sexy.
(Maybe I should have called this a pubic service annoucement.)
I'm so delighted. In the last 24 hours two of my all time favorite clients (him and him) have gotten in touch and claim they've been thinking about me ever since I saw them and wish to schedule some of my time.
Time to make lunch for the boyfriend and get some actual "real" work done this afternoon.
Finally, another appointment to report on. Unfortunately, however, it was pretty dull as far as these things go. Another lawyer. (What is it with lawyers and hookers? High stress job/disposable income/limited time?) Met for coffee, had a fairly boring conversation about my real job (or maybe it's just boring to me since I feel like I'm always answering the same exact questions) and then I followed him home. Very obviously married with children. We retired to his home office. We sat on his couch. I asked him what he had in mind, and what he had in mind was oral--and could he come twice? I must say this was the very first time I've ever given a blow job right next to a child's Playskool desk, something I noted at the time and found kind of oddly amusing. He was pretty chill about the whole experience. I could tell he's hired working girls before. I think he enjoyed the experience more than I did. Most of the time (unless the guy turns out to be an ass) I have fun. I mean, I really actually enjoy myself. But today---well, it felt more like work than fun. I'm not even sure exactly why. The gentleman was perfectly nice and polite and attractive. Maybe it was the Bruce Springsteen CD that was on in the background. Ha.
And on another note, a reader wrote and asked how I cope with my period and appointments. Well, I simply don't make appointments when Aunt Flo is in town. And no, I've never had anyone specifically ask me if I'd see him during my period. However, I have seen women posting ads specifically saying that they have their periods right now, so there must be a market for that sort of thing. I guess there's a market for most everything, really.
As far as the guy (he doesn't get to be referred to as a gentleman) I discussed in my last post and his attempt to haggle with me over my price, I'm pleased at the discussion that generated and that most people seem to agree that it's rude and should not be encouraged. It's one thing to haggle over the price of an item---say, a used car, for instance--but one should not irritate and annoy someone they're attempting to get personal 'service' from, especially when this service involves intimate acts. I've been thinking about it and perhaps it's part of a power issue for those who do that---getting their cock sucked and on THEIR terms. Anyway, that doesn't fly with me and thanks to you all I feel validated in feeling the way I do about that. Thanks!
Just to clarify (and I should add this to the FAQ), the reason this site is titled "My Secret Life..." is because it's about a secret part of my life.
The only person that knows I do this besides (obviously) the clients, is a very close friend of mine who does it too. In fact, she's the one who gave me the idea in the first place. We share with one another the details of where we are going and who we'll be with, for safety's sake.
In case you've missed the reference to my open-relationship with the boyfriend in various posts, I'll mention it again. He knows I have other sexual relationships but he prefers not to be informed of the details. On the other hand, I like to hear the details about his escapades and he enjoys sharing them with me. Since he'd rather not be informed of the details of my sexual liaisons and that's worked for us for years, he's not aware I'm being paid for my companionship. Would he be upset to find out? Perhaps. Perhaps not. However, it's his choice to be kept in the dark. If he suddenly wanted to know about my extra-curricular activities, I would tell him--but the one-sided "Don't ask, don't tell' policy works for him and so that is how it is for now.
Yesterday this guy (second paragraph) IMed me, wishing to set up another appointment. He made me an offer which was 66% of my rate, which I politely refused. Then he proceeded to give me a ration of shit about how the reason he liked me in the first place is because I actually seemed to enjoy what I was doing, vs. just 'being in it for the money.' I attempted to explain to him that while yes, I do enjoy what I do, I'm not going to negotiate the price. "But you know me, and you know I'm cute and I'm a nice guy..." I told him I'm a very busy lady and the laws of supply and demand are in effect and why should I see him for a huge discount, when I could just spend my limited available time with someone else that I also know is cute and a nice guy? He just wasn't getting it. "If you really enjoyed seeing me, then you'd just do it and any money you received would be a bonus." So then I had to point out that any time I spend not doing my real job costs me money. He finally seemed to get that. Out of nowhere he says, "Do you miss my cock? Just curious, have you thought about it at all?" I suppose the fantasy whore would have then gone on and on about how all I can think about is when I'll get to play with his cock again, but I'd had about enough of this guy. I don't want to see him again. So I was honest and I said, "No, as a matter of fact, I haven't thought much about it at all. And I've got lots of work to do, so I'm logging off. See ya."
OK, so I didn't go to bed.
I read this fabulously thought-provoking essay instead:
I'd Rather Be a Whore Than an Academic.
Perhaps my post yesterday about Easter dinner startled a few people. I received quite a few emails about it, in fact.
"When you were doing the whole Easter thing yesterday, did you feel anything (not guilt necessarily, but maybe a sense of mischieviousness) thinking about your secondary source of income?"
As difficult as it might be for some to believe, I didn't think at all about my secondary income yesterday during the Easter festivities with my boyfriend's family. I was thinking about making sure the dinner I was in charge of preparing was going to come out well, and focused on the people around me and what was going on then, not daydreaming about the ways in which I've been making an extra buck. In fact, that was probably the furthest thing from my mind.
Perhaps I haven't done such a great job presenting myself as a multifaceted individual. Mostly it has been on purpose in an effort to maintain my anonyminity. You see, I have a quite lot of friends and one of the things I admire about people is a curious nature, so those are the sort of friends I surround myself with. I can't picture too many of my friends NOT clicking on a link that says "My Secret Life as a Prostitute." I wouldn't be all that surprised if someone I know has read this blog and wondered if I am indeed someone that they know. I'd much prefer them wondering 'hmmm...maybe' over supplying details about me that would confirm anything. I'm not ready at this point to 'come out', so to speak, to my friends and relations as to how I've been spending some of my afternoons. I do not wish to be ostracized and stigmatized and generally disapproved of by everyone I know. Plus, since what I am doing is perfectly illegal, I wish to protect my identity so as to not get targeted for arrest.
Where am I going with this? I guess I'm just trying to point out that yes, I spend much more of my time doing mundane and routine things---just like you--than I do thinking about and having actual sex with strangers for money. Most of the time when I'm doing these mundane things--laundry, grocery shopping, dinner with a girlfriend, playing with my cat, watching television with my boyfriend--I'm there in the moment, thinking about what I'm doing. Experiencing that thing.
I'm tired now and I think I'm going to bed. I'll save for tomorrow my thoughts about a client I saw once a month ago who IMed me today and had all kinds of questions such as, "So, have you thought about my cock?" . *sigh*
I had a pleasant Easter with the family. Had the usual ham dinner, but due to the lack of small children no easter eggs! I meant to get the boyfriend a chocolate bunny at least, but I totally forgot. However, I did make some totally kickass scalloped potatoes that I found here: Epicurious Recipe for Scalloped Potatoes with Three Cheeses. They live up to the hype in the comments.
This evening I went and worked on the Movable Type problem I was having on Friday and much to my amazement, I actually figured out what was wrong and got it working. Hopefully I'll be able to get all this stuff here at blogspot moved to my new domain within a reasonable time frame. I'm kind of sad because I think I'm not going to be able to take the comments that have been made so far over without doing tons of manual labor.
Word of mouth is an amazing thing. I believe today is the day I surpassed 10,000 site visits. I'm really amazed that there are that many people out there who wish to read my ramblings. I also want to thank those of you who have sent thoughtful questions via email. I really do welcome any and all questions, and if they don't have to do with revealing my identity or precise whereabouts, I'm happy to have something to address in future posts.
I should have actual sexy stuff to report this coming week, since a surprising (to me) number of gentlemen I've spent time with in the past have been getting in touch and trying to schedule appointments. I guess it's not just the wild animals that get randy in the Spring.
So I've had an irritating day.
Blown off two days in a row. Imagine that? Yesterday I get an email from the man I was supposed to get together with this morning, saying, "I'm just writing to confirm that we're still on for tomorrow, I hope?" So I write back last night and say that yes, indeed, we were still on, but we had to decide where we were going to meet, since we hadn't talked about that yet. He didn't reply.
This was a 10 am appointment on my calendar. Assuming he'd check his email and get back to me before I have to leave the house to get to where he is on time, I get up early and get ready to go. I'm feeling kind of silly while I'm doing this, since I haven't even heard back from him. However, the eternal optimist in me says there's no way I'd get blown off two days in a row, especially considering this particular man appeared to be all excited at the prospect of seeing me. When by 9:15 this morning I do not hear from him, I email him one final time to remind him I can't magically appear if I do not know where I am supposed to go.
Alas, no reply.
I decided to use the freed up time instead to install Movable Type on my new web host. After hours of mucking around, I did manage to actually get that blogging software installed, and my Blogspot posts exported and then imported into MT. I could barely contain my joy, since it was a rather frustrating experience to say the least. But the elation was short lived since I soon discovered there has to be some problem with my configuration settings because I can't get through a 'rebuild' without error messages. After hours of researching the particular problem I'm having, I finally gave up. Fuck it. I'll go back to that when I'm feeling a little more patient.
And now the cat is whining and I'm hungry and the boyfriend has just called to say he's going to be late and I didn't go grocery shopping and I didn't get any real work done because I got obsessed with the idea of getting rid of the troublesome olive green background on the blog.... I'm feeling very grumpy right about now.
Oh, and I owe everyone email. Yes, I know. If you've written and I haven't replied, don't despair. You'll hear from me. Promise.
No appointment to report about today because I was blown off! Had an email waiting for me when I got home. "Sorry, got tied up at work and couldn't make it. Perhaps another time." Pffft. Not likely.
However, it's a gorgeous day and feels finally like Spring so I wasn't even all that upset that I was stood up. It's a perfect day for a ride, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Instead I did some shopping, stopped into Starbucks for an iced coffee and to see my favorite Coffee Boy, and then came home and took my cat for a walk. (Ever see a cat on a leash? It's pretty amusing.)
Last week I posted about lovely meeting with reader of this blog. I told him he could write a "guest post" if he wished, and he did! He emailed it to me to post. Without further ado, here it is:
My afternoon with Laura:
As Laura's first blogfan to become a client, Laura asked me to write about my experience. Seeing as how she was so nice to me . . . well it seemed only fair to return the favor.
Laura was the first . . . 'pro' I've ever been with. I put 'pro' in quotes because she really doesn't come off as any kind of professional. Well, o.k., she could certainly be a professional in some other field. But escort? Certainly didn't seem that way. She was far too laid back and friendly to be compared to anyone I can imagine as really 'working' in the sex industry. If anything, it was like the best blind date I've ever had in my life.
We met for coffee at a Starbucks. We chatted about work, school (I'm in law school), family, and shared funny/irritating college stories. After awhile, maybe 45 minutes or so, she asked if I was ready to leave. I said yes, and she told me to follow her in my car. A few twists and turns later, we got to the hotel. I got out and booked a room while Laura waited in her car. After I had the key, we walked to the room together.
Even inside the hotel room (which was small, and consisted only of a bed, a TV, and a bathroom) things still didn't exactly move at the hurried porno-pace I had imagined. We chatted a bit more, sprawled on the bed, watched some TV, and another 20 minutes or so went by before Laura apparently decided to 'get comfortable.'
I remember thinking, as she started to remove her clothing, that this suddenly seemed very surreal. I mean, we weren't even talking about anything 'sexual'. I believe we were talking about her roommates when she slid off her pants, revealing an adorable pair of black panties. Her blouse came off a few moments later (I admit to being a little out of the conversation by that point) revealing her terrific breasts. Once mostly disrobed, and having noticed my jaw laying somewhere on the floor, she smirked and indicated that I might want to begin disrobing. I stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, and we snuggled up together . . .
And well I guess I'm not sharing the saucy details. Sorry to disappoint. But I've tried three times to write a few paragraphs about what went where and when, but frankly, anything I've come up with doesn't come close to capturing the experience. Mostly I re-read those paragraphs and started laughing. Sex, as I've often tried to explain to people, is really one of God's great jokes on humanity, and viewed (or attempted to be viewed) without the veil of hormones and adrenaline . . . well it loses a lot of its flavor.
Still, it was fantastic, and Laura was ridiculously indulgent towards whatever desires I managed to mumble out between expressions of sincere admiration for her skills and enthusiasm. Once I was largely spent, we lay in bed for awhile chatting some more (she remained naked, a lovely visual treat) before she eventually had to leave. She got dressed at a leisurely pace, we settled accounts quite amiably, and after a warm kiss she left.
Probably the most difficult part of the experience was yet to come. I now had to leave the hotel, which meant checking out the same day I had checked in (in fact, just 3-4 hours after I had checked in). What if the Hotel Clerk asked why I was checking out the same day I had checked in? For some reason, the thought that he would know that I had just gotten some embarrassed the hell out of me, even if he couldn't have known that it was with 'a pro'. Yes, I know, I'm mental. Leave it be.
So I had to come up with some plausible excuse for my ridiculously short stay. I pondered complaining that the room was unacceptable, but figured that even if they believed me, they'd just give me a different room; from which I'd also have to check out of. After some pondering, I decided that if asked, I'd tell the Clerk that I was half-way through a very long drive, and that I had just stopped for a shower and a nap. This seemed reasonable to me, and I figured with my out-of-state plates (remember, I drove a distance to see Laura in the first place) it might work.
In one of those rare examples of life actually going exactly as planned, I got a Clerk working his first week at the hotel. Not only was he baffled by my 'one-day stay', he was also unable to check me out without consulting with two of his superiors first. Each of whom also asked me why I was checking out so soon. Immensely impressed with my own brilliance, I repeated my cover story with all the sincerity I could muster, and then tried not to dislocate my shoulder while patting myself on the back.
Either I'm a very good liar, or they are used to hearing such excuses (and not laughing at them) because all concerned seemed satisfied with my explanation. After a few tries, I was checked out, and on the road.
My one thought as I left was: What happens when I do this again if I get the same clerk?
Anyone think he'll buy the same excuse twice?
I had a brief and weird appointment this morning with a 30-something businessman. He was evidently nervous and had indicated he was worried I was a cop in our last email. I told him that if he didn't feel comfortable, he could certainly cancel. But he didn't. He probably should have.
I've never in my life had a problem making conversation with anyone, but this guy was something else entirely. Practically all my attempts at engaging chit chat were met with one word responses. It was a bit unnerving, I must admit. He asked me some questions, but didn't really seem all that interested in my responses. Once in the hotel room, there was some dull kissing and groping of me, he got undressed, then I gave him a blowjob. I was rather astonished when during the blowjob he asked me if I'd stick a finger up his bum. Nothing about him struck me as the creative sort, that's for sure. And then, "Can I pop more than once?" I stopped the ministrations long enough to inform him that if he thought he could, then sure thing. (Pop? Who says that?!)
However, when I was through with that and reclining next to him, again attempting (god only knows why) to talk vs. lying there staring at the ceiling, he suddenly says, "Well, I guess I'm all set." I thought he meant ready for his second "pop," so I looked down at his flaccid manhood. He notices my glance and says, "Oh, I meant all set with this." Hmmmph. OK..... Next thing I know, he springs up and is dressed before I can even find my shirt to put back on.
We were there in the hotel room for maybe 20 minutes, if that. I certainly don't expect to hear from this one again. Oh well, can't win 'em all, I s'pose.
I'm curious if all female bloggers that extensively discuss their sex lives get questioned as to whether or not they are real?
I must thank a dear reader for always asking such good questions via email. Here are today's questions:
What do you think of your
customers? Now that you've been at this for a while,
do you find any similarities among them? And what
about those who are cheating on their
wives/girlfriends? Do think less of them then you do
of your non-attached clients? Or are most of them
With a couple of exceptions that I've blogged about, I've liked all my clients. I find it very difficult to be intimate with someone who's company I do not enjoy. I think as an independent escort in the unique position to be able to pick and choose who I spend my time with, the likelihood of having to endure the company of someone I do not like is much lower than that of a girl working for an agency. If I get a bad vibe from someone during the initial stages of contact, I can opt not to meet them. (I actually only wish to meet a small percentage of those who contact me.) Granted, being independent has it's cons as well---for I have to spend time writing ads, managing the replies, and setting up appointments. It's a lot of work and can be quite time consuming.
I do find similarities between my clients. They've been attractive, intelligent, interesting nice guys with some disposable income. It could just be that I've gotten good at weeding out the unattractive morons during the initial contact process, or it could be that the ads I create tend to appeal to the sort of client I seek. I think it's a combination of the two.
About 80% of my clients have been either married or involved in a long term relationship. I do not judge them for coming to see me and I think no less of them than I do the unattached clients. In fact, I think they're smarter to see me than to have an affair with their secretary or their next door neighbor in order to get some sexual fulfillment. They don't have to worry that I'm going to fall in love and start calling up their wives or girlfriends or boiling bunnies on their stoves.
I had what had to be the most effortless appointment ever today.
I arrived at the gentleman's hotel, and he greeted me politely and offered me a glass of wine. He'd brought along a CD player and had some new agey music playing, which albeit a tad cheesy, was a nice change from the usual hotel room silence. After talking with me for about 20 minutes, we finally got down to business. And what was that business, you wonder? Yours truly got to lie there and have her feet rubbed, her toes sucked, and then some pretty fabulous oral sex for an hour. No reciprocation on my part was required whatsover. And that was it! Hot damn.
Oh! I finally bought an actual domain and paid for some hosting so I can move the blog off blogspot.com and do all sorts of nifty stuff with Movable Type and PHP. So for all of you that have been bitching about the look of this particular site, just shush. I promise something more attractive to look at in the coming weeks.
Sometimes a prospective client will have a huge laundry list of questions for me about what I'll do and what he can do.
Can I take photos of you with my cock in your mouth? (No way.)
Can I lick your ass? (Sure.)
Will you lick my ass? (No.)
Can I fuck your ass? (Nope.)
Is it ok if I cum on you? (Yes.)
Can I kiss you? (I sure hope you do.)
How about cumming on your face or your tits? (Just avoid my eyes, please.)
Can I fuck you from behind? (Of course.)
Is it ok if I call you names? (Sure.)
Can I slap your ass? (As long as you don't bruise me.)
Pull your hair? (As long as you don't pull it out.)
Will you talk dirty? (I certainly can but usually don't unless really inspired.)
The list is endless and I try to be both frank and patient about discussing my boundaries, since I don't want to have to deal with uncomfortable situations in person when it can be avoided with advance conversation. What I find quite interesting, however, is that those with the most detailed and specific questions about what can actually happen during the course of a session with me, seem to be perfectly happy with the same basic stuff as those with hardly any questions at all.
The young guy I saw yesterday was one with tons of advance questions. I think what happened was he'd scripted out this whole porno movie situtation in his head so much before I showed up and was so excited about the ideas he had about what we could do that I hardly even had to touch him before he came. I assured him it was ok and that perhaps it was good to get the first one out of the way so quickly. His second orgasm took longer, but getting there didn't involve much of anything he seemed so concerned about when he had all the questions. And then we lounged around some talking about his job, and then he got up and got dressed. He said he had a fantastic time. I wondered if he was disappointed that there was no ass slapping or dirty talking or hair pulling or even fucking, for that matter.
This isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened.
I wonder if it's got something to do with men overestimating what it's going to take for them to be satisfied? Perhaps they think they're going to need way more stimulation than they actually do in reality?
Frequently Asked Questions:
1. Where do you live?
I'd actually rather not say where I live, for lots of reasons. However, I will let you know that I'm in the Northeast section of the US.
2. Can you send me a photo?
No. For all I know, you might be my brother or my Dad or one of my 'real job' clients. And that would be rather odd indeed.
3. Ok then, what do you look like?
People claim I'm pretty. I'd say if that's true then I'm approachably pretty vs. the sort of chick you're afraid to talk to because she's so drop dead gorgeous. I get flirted with a lot by both men and women. I'm average height, and hourglass shaped. Dark hair, light eyes, pale skin. I'm probably not at all what you'd picture when you think of a call girl.
4. What do you do for your real job?
Again, this is something I'd rather not say. Suffice it to say I spend a lot of time in front of a computer.
5. Are you for real?
Yes, yes, yes. I don't know what I have to say to convince you all that I am, but yes, I am quite real.
6. Do you have a website other than this blog where I can find out more about you?
No, I do not.
7. Do you have any plans to be in _______(fill in your city) any time soon?
Being that this is basically just an amusing hobby for me, no I don't have any plans to travel the US or any other countries for that matter. If I decide to go on a whirlwind tour, I'll blog about it, and you'll know.
8. What about STDs?
I get emails from people asking me how can I do this and not be worried about STDs. Of course I'm concerned about STDs. And since I am concerned, I take as many reasonable precautions as I can to avoid contracting one, and probably even more so than someone who doesn't spend as much time as I do having sex. (I don't have that "Aw, it'll never happen to me" syndrome.) Of course there is still a risk, regardless of the precautions I take. I certainly am well aware of this. I am also aware that someday I may be run over by a bus, or be in an automobile accident. Does it make me afraid to cross the street? Do I refuse to drive or ride in a car? No and no. Why? Because I take reasonable precautions. I look both ways before I cross and wear my seatbelt, too.
That is about all I have to say on this particular topic. If you have all sorts of questions about STDs and prevention, don't ask me, but feel free to go and ask Google. There's a wealth of knowledge out there.
And that's it for now. I'll add to this list as the questions roll in.
I had such a lovely day today, thanks to a gentle reader of this here blog.
An aspiring attorney from a city a couple hours away wrote to me about my blog. He wondered why I don't actually advertise my services on my blog and I said it's because I don't want to have to weed through people I obviously cannot possibly see in person since chances are, they're too far away. I get enough email from local people that don't fit my criteria as it is. (It amazes me, for instance, that in my ads I state twice how I only do outcalls during the day, and still people write wanting an incall at night.) We wound up going back and forth with the emails for a bit, and I eventually gave him my IM since he was smart and funny and sweet and I liked him a lot.
So the other day he tells me that he had some business to do fairly close to my area today and asked me if I'd consider making an appointment with him. I was surprised at first. "You've read my blog and you want to actually get together with me?" He told me that it was hard for him to even ask! He was afraid I'd say no! I thought that was totally cute, considering we'd chatted quite a bit and obviously had a rapport going. We made arrangements to get together today.
And we did. And he was delightful. A total sweetie. I hope I managed to make his drive worthwhile and that he'll let me know next time he's in my area.
I find it interesting to read other people's perspectives on what I do. I found this opinion online:
I have a really hard time with the indignity of prostitution. I can't help but feel that prostitution is not just about selling sex, but about selling the whole woman, and commanding her, having her at one's (sexual) whim. I also feel pretty sure that prostitutes are often subjected to far worse treatment and degradation than any other labourer except maybe plantation slaves, and that this degradation and abuse is part and parcel of the sex that they sell.
Hmm. I have to say that when I was waiting tables at night to supplement my income I felt far more exploited and undignified than I have ever felt doing this. Having a shift manager who was 7 years younger than myself and about half as intelligent ordering me about and questioning my every move just because he thoroughly enjoyed his little power trip was quite possibly the most degrading experience I've ever had. Having to crawl around on the floor wiping crumbs off the bottoms of chair rails after being on my feet for 6 hours, smiling at rude people who snapped their fingers at me and frequently would shout "Hey you, waitress," ---these things were far more soul crushing to me than anything that's ever happened to me during an appointment with a client.
I've been asked about the gentleman I didn't originally wish to see yesterday. Which activities did I not want to participate in? Those would be anal sex, rimming and fisting. I'm not even sure who he wanted to be the recipient of the rimming and fisting. I didn't even ask. Just no no no. So after he started talking about these things and I said that perhaps I wasn't the girl for him, he said that regardless he'd still like to see me anyway, and by the way, what is my height and weight? As I was about to answer he continued, "Because I want to buy you a catsuit." WHAT? I said "NO!" And then he countered with, "Ok, well, would you mind wearing stockings?" Phew. That's a request I'd be willing to accomodate, of course.