I had an interesting appointment last night with a somewhat cynical hobbyist. For those not familiar with the lingo, a hobbyist is someone who's seen a lot of escorts.

We'd chatted for an hour or so via IM before making the appointment, and I liked him immediately. He was smart, funny and engaging and here in my area for a couple of weeks on business. He travels quite a bit for work and has whiled away some hours with various working girls. I could tell from some of his remarks during our chat that he was a bit jaded by some not so terrific experiences, but had had some that were worthwhile enough he didn't feel the desire to abandon the practice entirely. More on that later.

We'd talked about kissing, for instance, during our chat and I mentioned that I really enjoy kissing. He said something to the effect of "Sure, sure" and indicated that I was probably just a good marketer and saying the right things. I wasn't really all that concerned about this cynicism regarding my honesty because I figure it's pretty apparent when you're with me that I'm totally for real and he'd see for himself soon enough.

In person, things got off to a good start. The first real hitch occurred when, after a bunch of head, he'd decided he wanted to fuck. So I get on top (which isn't my favorite position, by the way) and it felt nice. Very nice, actually. So I'm just doing my thing, and not being particularly self-conscious about it, either. I was just enjoying myself. After a little while, I noticed he had this sort of smirking expression on his face, so I commented on it. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of, "You're smirking at me." And he says, "Oh, that's just because I'm wondering how much of what you're doing is real and how much is fake."

I was thrown for a bit of a loop. I have no idea how most escorts would react to that kind of statement, but how I reacted was to stop what I was doing and dismount.

I quietly and rather patiently informed him that I don't bother faking anything. Why should I? What would be the point? I left off the rest of what I was thinking which was, "Since if you're not fun, I'm not going to see you again anyway, so why bother with any ego stroking theatrics?"

I think if it weren't for the advance knowledge I had regarding his previous escorting experiences, I would have been a lot more irritated about the questioning of my integrity. But, since I did like him quite a lot and realized that he certainly had valid enough reasons to assume I was embellishing my enthusiasm, I decided to excuse it. I told him this. I'm not sure if he believed me, then, but I think by the time I left he most certainly did.

After that little discussion was over, he got on top. He said he wanted to see me orgasm. But I couldn't. I was close, very close, but I couldn't relax enough to do it, since I was now self-conscious. Oh well.

We ended up spending several hours together, and did a quite a lot of Naked Talking^TM. One interesting thing we discussed was how B.F. Skinner's Operant Conditioning theories relate to seeing escorts. (He asked me if I'd taken any psychology classes and I said I had and then didn't correct him when he incorrectly attributed the theory to Piaget, who actually was involved with child developmental theories.) Skinner experimented with rats in a special box. The box contained a lever that when pressed, would distribute food pellets. At first, every press of the lever would cause a pellet to come down to the hungry rat. The interesting thing is that Skinner observed that when he made it so that with every press of the lever the rat was not rewarded with a pellet (the pellet would only appear at random intervals) the rats kept on pressing.
As long as they knew that sometimes a pellet would come out, they were compelled to keep trying. This can relate to seeing escorts. If your first couple of experiences with escorts are good, even if you wind up having a bad one every now and again (no pellet) , you're compelled to keep pressing that lever, so to speak.

Anyway, despite the little hitches, I had a great time with a great guy and I think that by the time I left he realized I wasn't shittin' him.

Posted by: My Secret Life As A Former Prostitute at 11:23 AM

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