Posts Tagged ‘Dick’

ATMs ain’t rocket science.

Learn to count. You know how much her hourly rate is. You know that ATMs only dispense $20s.
So, if her rate is $350 and you get $360 from the cash machine, you know you’re either gonna have to break the $20 before you get there or give her an extra $10.

Don’t go in there all flummoxed about how to make change for a $20. She just gave you a blowjob, don’t ask her to give you change. Don’t ask to take ten minutes off your hour for a ten buck discount. And for fuck’s sake don’t short her $10 off her rate.
If you didn’t get change before you got to the room, suck it up and give her the full amount plus ten. If $10 goddam dollars is gonna make or break your budget, well… jerking off alone is a lot cheaper.

Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

Next

Pro Tip: If you wouldn’t see a hooker working out of a cheap sleazy hotel like this, why are you staying here? It’s good enough for you to stay in, but not good enough for you to fuck in?

Even worse, how are you gonna call a hooker to a room like this? How are you gonna get a $600 an hour escort to come out to a $40 a night flop?

 

How did I get here?

Well... how did I get here?

I’ve been struggling with an injury lately. How it happened isn’t really important. Maybe it was a sports injury, maybe it was work-related. Maybe I threw my back out trying to lift up my massive gut to reach my dick. Whatever, it’s not important. The point is, I was undergoing a bit of physical therapy for my fat/dick- related injury. And as my massage therapist Helga was working through my corpulence to get to the root of my injury, I found myself fantasizing about her working through my corpulence to get to my root.

Now, I haven’t been to an AMP in a long time. The so-called ‘massage parlor’ where the massage was just a pretense for the happy ending. The rub n’ tug joint. But that’s often the first entry into the “hobby” most guys have. There seems to be a progression. From strip club to massage parlors to escorts.

I spent a lot of time exploring strip clubs. I remember one stretch of highway in my hometown where there were about a half a dozen strip clubs of varying degrees of class and quality. I would start at one end of the road with the dark, dank dive bar; the one with the pool table and the lackluster stripper with the Harley-Davidson tattoo across her chest. Then I’d move on to the one with the strobe lights and the glittery swing on stage. I’d end up at the far end of the spectrum at the Showgirls-esque club with featured “acts.”

Yeah... it was just like that

True story: I saw a featured stripper there who had a whole ‘nautical’ act. She had props and costumes, all in a vague naval theme. Sailor cap, cutaway bellbottoms, anchors. Sexy anchors. She danced a set to songs like “Blue, Navy Blue” and “Sea Cruise.” Hot.

But eventually, as most guys do, I grew tired of the ‘look don’t touch’ aspect of the clubs and started looking for more.  My hometown had lingerie modeling joints. You’d pay your door fee, go into a small room, “get comfortable,” and a ‘model’ would pose in scanty lingerie. Of course, for an additional tip she would, y’know… do things. From there, I progressed to cruising the boulevard for streetwalkers, always more afraid of them than they were of me.

Fast forward to the internet age and here I am, a grizzled veteran of the online hooker review boards.

What I am is what I am.

So what would lead an otherwise happily married man with 3 kids, a dog and a fish, a happy home in the suburbs and a  minivan in the garage to go cruising for strippers and hookers?

Ask any “hobbyist” and you’ll hear a litany of excuses, usually centering around the failings of their wives. The conventional wisdom is that if they were getting it at home they wouldn’t need to look  for it on the street. Well, sure, it’s not their fault, it’s their wives. Look, way back when, as I was driving up and down the streets at midnight, picking up scrawny girls for quickie handjobs in my car, I had a freaky, sexy, willing girlfriend waiting at home for me. And when I say freaky, I mean choking, slapping, swinging freaky. She was totally hot, totally willing and totally available. Yet I was fascinated by the world of sex out there.

I’m no saint, never claimed to be. Nice guy? I try. I have to try. Being an asshole is effortless. I’ve been fucking hookers of all stripes for years, with no end in sight. And it’s not, never has been, because of a failing on the part of my partner. It’s me.

This is what those guys slapping each other on the back about banging hookers won’t admit. They like fucking hookers. They would be fucking hookers if they were single. They would be fucking hookers if they were married to sex kittens. They would be fucking hookers if they were married to other hookers. The guys who spend hour after hour after hour online looking for hookers, flirting with hookers, making dates with hookers and writing reviews of fucking hookers… yeah, those guys re only doing it because the cold, distant, harpies they’re married to won’t blow them anymore. Right?

I don’t —we don’t– pay for pussy because the wife won’t pay attention. That’s just another deflection. Another way of placing blame with someone else. Another way of absolving ourselves of responsibility for our own actions. Hey, it’s not my fault I pay to get my dick sucked, it’s yours! Well, guess what? That’s bullshit. It’s my dick, and it’s entirely up to me who I stick it in.

Yeah, there are miserable, shrewish, frigid wives. There are wives who don’t like sex. There are wives who are emasculating bitches. And it’s still your choice to seek out strange pussy. You don’t do it because of the wife, the kids, the job. You do it because you like pussy, all kinds of pussy. The key indicator is that most of us “hobbyists” don’t just quietly, discreetly see the occasional paid companion to while away an hour or two of shared intimacy. The hardcore “hobbyist” has made the flirting, bantering, and jockeying for ‘position’ just as important as the actual in-out. You don’t spend hours chatting with hookers online because your wife won’t suck your dick. You don’t write dozens of goddam reviews highlighting your sexual prowess with hookers because your wife is too busy with the kids. And y’know what? Maybe if you didn’t spend hours chatting with hookers online your wife might be more willing to suck your dick for free.

Choke me in the shallow water, before I get too deep.

Behind the mask.

The Observer rocks on

In 1992, H. Ross Perot mounted a campaign for the U.S. Presidency as a third party candidate; he chose as his running mate Admiral James Stockdale. During his opening remarks at the Vice-Presidential debate against Al Gore and Dan Quayle, Admiral Stockdale uttered the line that cemented the public’s view of the till-then unknown war hero as a doddering, out of touch old man: “Who am I? Why am I here?”

Since I started writing this blog a while ago, there has been a certain segment of our little society of whoremongers curious about who I may (or may not) be. That curious sector has now expanded into a virtual cottage industry.

Am I some guy lashing out at those who done me wrong? Am I some guy angling for free pussy? Or am I just bullshitting and making it all up?

The more common guesses center around the issue of my gender. Because I have written much that is critical of the guys involved in these tawdry pursuits, the natural inclination among those tawdry guys is to instantly assume I’m not really one of them. Because I criticize the guys, I must be a woman. It’s obvious! I must be some bitter, angry hooker seeking online revenge.

Sorry to burst your bubble, guys, but just as Vicki Vale knows who Batman really is, there’s one person who can attest to the fact that I really am male. Sure, I may be an old grey dog;  a short, fat, balding middle aged guy with a waistline that provides shelter from the sun for my penis. But that still counts as male.

So who am I, then? Lean in closer, I’ll whisper it. Just to you. Don’t tell anyone.

I don’t want to give out any Spoilers. Maybe I have other hobbies besides fucking hookers. Maybe I’m an outlaw, a desperate outlaw. Maybe I’m Fresh Off the Boat, like listening to emo bands or maybe I’m Radioactive Man‘s sidekick..

I’m not anyone but just plain lil’ ol’ me. After all, WTF, it’s… just me. I may have been born between October 23 and November 21 for those of you astrologically inclined. Maybe you can identify me by the car I drive.

I may not be a real doctor (or play one on TV), maybe that’s just an honorary title. I may not be a real lawyer, I may just be some guy who likes to talk about law. I’m not Five, of that I’m sure. And pretty certain I’m not Eight.

Maybe I’m black, maybe I’m white. I may be Asian. Am I an oddly tall Korean from the Valley? Or am I a Chinese guy from L.A.?

I’m just here to tell the troo…errr… Truth.

There’s always a woman to blame.

Some people claim there's always a woman to blame

It’s not news (no, really, it isn’t), some high profile celebrity gets caught cheating on his high profile celebrity wife. Whether it’s an athlete, an actor or a famous mechanic (really? WTF? What’s next, celebrity grocery baggers?), we’re all drawn in to the tawdry drama. In the wake of the recent revelations of general horndoggery by Jesse James and the seemingly never-ending Tiger Woods Apology Tour, one thing is constant: those dirty, nasty, skanky whores who led them astray.

For example, in a recent online discussion of the James/Bullock story, with multiple alleged mistresses starting to come out of the woodwork, there was a comment made that Sandra Bullock should get herself tested for STDs. Good advice, to be sure, but the rationale was that the concern was because of the low class tattooed stripper porn stars Jesse was fucking were sure to be disease ridden whores. Whoa! Wait a minute, he’s the one going from one partner to another (to another and another and another), he’s the indiscriminate fucker here. But the women are the ones to blame if his dick falls off. The clowder of pussy surrounding Tiger is almost always portrayed as gold digging sluts… even if they were just waitresses in love. Noted relationship authority Dr. Jim Carrey, fresh off the news that his own relationship was on the rocks, chose to support Tiger by lashing out at Tiger’s wife. On his Twitter, Carrey posted:

“no wife is blind enough to miss that much infidelity. Elin had to be a willing participant on the ride for whatever reason. kids/lifestyle.”

Tiger goes back to his million dollar home, his million dollar wife and his million dollar job, and his wife, girlfriends and mistresses get thrown under the bus.

When it comes to “hobbyists”, there’s no fuck up that can’t be blamed on a hooker. Can’t get it up? That bitch was too ugly. Too broke to fuck? Those bitches charge too much. It’s not that you’re too short, that bitch was too tall. When hobbyists start talking about the reasons why they fuck hookers (and they always do), nine times out of ten it’s because the wife won’t put out anymore. See? They wouldn’t have to fuck hookers if the wife would just give it up more. It’s her fault he has to pay for pussy.

Last week I saw a post on the BrokeBastardsBoard titled simply “Bitch.” Simple facts, guy makes last minute appointment with escort, she’s a few minutes late, calls to ask if he wants to proceed or reschedule. Yeah, egregious. Seriously, he called her at 8:45. To make an appointment for 9:30. At 9:45, she calls him to say she got held up a bit, does he still want to get together or make it for some other time. And that makes her a bitch. A bitch that deserves being called out on a message board because she wasted his time and ruined his night. Dude, if your window of opportunity is so narrow that 15 minutes is a make-or-break, you probably shouldn’t be stepping out to see hookers at the last minute. Maybe plan ahead a bit. Your inability to plan doesn’t make her a bitch. “Hobbyists” are rarely if ever wrong. If a hooker says something you disagree with, you can round up all your message board warriors and start a thread calling her a bitch. After all, whatever stupid thing you said, whatever boneheaded move you made, whatever your shortcomings, there’s no problem too big (or too small) it can’t be blamed on a ho.

There’s a heavy weighting among the hobbyist class towards the Party of Personal Responsibility™. Which makes it all the more ironic that they don’t seem to be able to actually, y’know, accept personal responsibility. The boards afford them an opportunity to indulge in their favorite pastime. Cuz all they wanna do is bitch.

Expert advice.

Growing business

I have some advice for all you hookers out there. I know what you’re doing wrong, I know what you need to do to get more clients, I know how to run your business.

Cuz no one knows more about being a hooker than a trick. Right?

Gimme a break.

It’s fairly common on the hooker message boards for Some Girl to ask something along the lines of “what am I doing wrong here?” Usually, it’s a girl new to the site, unsure of what the posting guidelines are, looking for feedback on how to better navigate the vagaries of any particular local board. More often than not, the subtext is: “I keep posting ads, why aren’t any of you losers booking dates?”

Instead of the real honest answer (“we’re all a bunch of cheap bastards in here, we’d rather waste your time flirting online than actually paying to fuck”) this opens the doors wide for a barrage of unwanted, unsolicited, unrealistic business advice. Much like every Republican (or “Independent”) posting on political boards, every john posting on hooker boards is a Captain of Industry. Come to think of it, there’s probably a huge overlap in those two sub-groups. Must be an interesting Venn diagram.

Quick! A hooker needs business advice!

They have tons of advice. It may not surprise you to learn that the single most important piece of business advice from johns to hookers is: lower your prices. Lower rates, more pictures. More revealing pictures, but not professional pictures, camera phone pictures (since everyone knows those can’t be edited) and offer specials to board members.

Predictable.

Every “hobbyist” knows exactly how a hooker should operate her business. And they ain’t shy about telling them how.

I was reminded of this not too long ago; a provider with whom I’ve become somewhat friendly asked me to check out her new website. Beta testing was all that was asked of me. I hope I came to my senses soon enough and kept my advice to myself. Yet my immediate instinct was to tell her what was wrong with it, how she should change things, which pictures to use. See, I know better than she does.

And that right there is the crux of it. The guys think that they always know better than the stupid hookers. Sure, some of those “stupid” hookers also run successful businesses. Some have graduate degrees. Some are experienced, knowledgeable and conversant in topics ranging from law to economics to business to art, design, politics or technology. But they’re hookers, so obviously they’re nowhere near as smart as the guy who runs a window pane store or the insurance salesman or the plumber who spends all his time commenting on a hooker message board. And I’m sure your job at Disneyland is quite challenging.

These guys are attempting to correct what they see as a shift in the balance of power. For years, ages, it was commonly accepted that the john held all the power. He had the penis and the dollars and that made him right. This new era of online escorts is making them feel like the hooker is in the driver’s seat, and they don’t like that, no sir, not one bit. How dare she ask for screening information? Whaddaya mean I have to book ahead? Why can’t I fuck you bareback in the ass? Really, what does she think she is? It comes from a point of view that since you’re paying her, she can’t say ‘no.’ For guys who are constantly hearing ‘no’ from women — no, the wife won’t blow him. No, the girl at the bar won’t go out with him — they figure that if they’re paying a hooker she can’t say ‘no.’ To anything. They don’t realize that just because she says ‘yes’ doesn’t mean she loses the right to say ‘no.’

And so, they try to re-exert their lost control. They’ll tell those hookers what to do and how to do it. Online flirting with hookers makes them feel more desirable. Paying for pussy makes them feel valuable. Making hookers feel stupid makes them feel smarter.

Look, I’ve been involved with the escort boards for a while. I’ve seen hookers/escorts/streetwalkers/callgirls/courtesans. I’ve run my own business, I’ve worked for others. I’ve know providers, both personally and professionally. And I don’t know anything about being an escort.

Yeah, I know, you’re a successful businessman.

What a "blowjob" looks like where YOU work

You often have to deal with a customer who’s being a dick. But you don’t actually have to deal with his dick. You know how to grow your business, you know how to advertise your business, you know how to deal with customers. But no matter how difficult your customers are, unless your job entails meeting strange men in hotel rooms and literally sucking their dicks, you don’t know dick about being an escort.