Posts Tagged ‘GFE’

All it takes is a smile…

"…my left brain knows that all love is fleeting…"

Attraction can be a strange thing. Sexual cues can be ambiguous, and men usually read them wrong. Research shows that this may be something that’s hard wired into us. An evolutionary loophole. A new study to be published in Psychological Science seems to show how wrong we are sometimes. The bottom line apparently, is that the more attractive a man finds a woman, the more attractive he thinks he is to her. Regardless of how attractive he really is. In other words, if he thinks she’s hot, he tends to think she’s hot for him. Imagine how this gets compounded when a woman’s job is specifically to show interest and arousal… whether she actually feels it or not.

No one single issue is more hotly discussed, debated and deconstructed than the issue of falling in love with a hooker. More than ‘the meaning of GFE,’ more than ‘to shave or not to shave,’ guys will expound interminably about the idea that someone could fall in love with an escort, whether or not it’s a good idea, or even whether it’s even possible. As with almost everything else related to this “hobby,” they’re all experts with no experience.

Fell in love once and most completely…

I have that experience. I fell in love with a girl. A working girl. It started out as so many other encounters with escorts, before and since. An arranged meeting in a 5-star hotel, the call from the road to confirm, the call from the lobby to get the room number, the slight nervousness upon knocking on the door. But from that moment on, there was nothing average or ordinary about it. I knew. But more than that, we knew. We knew there was a real connection, a connection beyond the paid-for genital docking maneuvers.

Sure, every guy thinks, at least once, that the hooker really has feelings for him, mistaking a job well done for real affection. It is, after all, her job to make you feel as if she really finds you irresistibly attractive, that you’re the greatest lover she’s ever had, the greatest conversationalist, that all those orgasms wrenched from her were real, and that for that one hour, you are the center of the universe. That’s not what this was. This was the real deal. I’m sure you’re thinking that I allowed myself to be deluded, just like every other poor sap who’s been hooked by a hooker, strung along for ever increasing payouts. And I’ll tell you this: I’ve been in many different relationships in my life, from casual to long term to legally binding. The long term relationship I had with this woman was as real and emotional and true as any. More so than most.

But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading…

Can a “hobbyist” fall in love with a hooker? Can a hooker fall in love with a trick? It all comes down to this: can one human being fall in love with any other? This is what we are. There are real people behind the screen names and assumed personae. And real people sometimes fall in love. But, feelings can be misleading. There’s more than one hapless “hobbyist” paying a girl’s rent or making her car payment or ‘putting her through school’ so she can stop hooking and be with him. She’s a good girl, she is.

My hooker girlfriend and I were together for almost 5 years. Never in that time did I pay her rent. Or make her car payment. And with the exception of that first meeting in that hotel room, I never paid to make love to her. That was a transaction conducted with “Insert Working Name Here.” Everything after that was a relationship with “Insert Real Name Here.”

There were hard times, good times, fun times. We went to movies, we went to lunch, dinner, grocery shopping. I invited her to my company Christmas party, and afterward laughed together about the co-worker who had brought an obvious paid date. We talked about the future, our future, and marriage came up more than once. I met her family, and spent time with them during birthdays and piano recitals. We hung out with friends, went to parties and social events. Often, those social events were work-related. Her work. There were more than a few meet & gropes we attended together during our time as a couple. Sometimes we would arrive separately and ‘accidentally’ meet up. Sometimes we arrived together under the guise of a paid date. Usually, I would let her work the room, making business contacts while I sat at the bar, buying drinks for escorts I had no intention of ever booking. I let her conduct her business. My business sometimes had setbacks, just like everyone else in a shaky economy. She helped me out when I needed it, she had a keen business sense.  And, because I know you’re thinking it, let me be clear, I wasn’t sitting home profiting from the fruits of her labors.

This is where most guys get mired in stereotypes. The conventional wisdom is that any man who is romantically involved with an escort must naturally be taking her money. Money earned on her back or on her knees. I tend to think that most guys have those thoughts because that’s what they themselves wish they could do. They only see the allure of having a hot babe who goes out and fucks for money, at their direction. Ironically, that mindset is why most of those guys have to pay for hookers in the first place. They can’t see the real women behind the pussies. Whether its an escort or a wife. And they treat pussies like cunts.

So, is it possible to fall in love with an escort? Of course it is. Would I recommend it? Well, I wouldn’t try to dissuade one from following their heart. Many escorts have husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends. They have parents and siblings. They are parents. Real people. Real flesh and blood and emotions. And any real person is capable of loving, is worthy of being loved. Which is why I get so pissed at the moralists, the abolitionists, the righteous crusaders. They dehumanize sex workers.

Another prevalent attitude is “I couldn’t have a relationship with a hooker unless she stopped hooking.” What this implies is that A) she’s not worthy of love or respect if she’s a hooker and B) that it’s the man’s decision to make. I never tried to get “Insert Working Name Here” to stop working as an escort. Because it was her decision. She wasn’t abused, on drugs, trafficked, coerced or forced into prostitution. It was a decision she made. And when she eventually did stop, it wasn’t for me or for any other man, it was for herself. She chose to work as an escort, she chose when and how to move on. I supported her in her choices, and tried to never make her feel as ‘less-than’ because of the choices she made. No, I’m not pretending to have been the best boyfriend in the world; I had and have many faults. But she gave her heart wholly to me, and that was the only part I cared about.

Although we were together for years, we’re not together anymore. We eventually broke up. Why? People break up all the time, for any number of reasons. Which is to say, it was probably my fault. But it was never anything related to her line of work. I said before, I’m not perfect. In fact, I can often be quite an asshole. *[ADDENDUM] What’s closer to the truth is that she tried. She tried to heal me, to set me free, and in the end, I broke her heart. I don’t pretend to have come out of this as the good guy. I wasn’t. But, hopefully, I’ve learned.* We fought, we split up. It happens. I can’t tell you the number of times since then that I wish it hadn’t happened. We remained friends, but never again lovers. Turns out, we actually liked each other, even after everything we’d been through.

I remember clearly the day, months later, sitting in a coffee shop when she told me she was dating someone else.

…she turns and says “are you alright?” 
I said “I must be fine cause my heart’s still beating” 

My heart sank. And although I wished her well then and wish her well now, it was a stunning blow. Even now, writing this, thinking about that day…

…these two sides of my brain 
need to have a meeting 
can’t think of anything to do 
my left brain knows that 
all love is fleeting…

All love is fleeting. When we were together, she often joked about getting me a professional discount if I wanted to see some other hooker. I never took her up on that. Since we broke up, she’s offered to be my reference if I wanted to see someone. I’ve never taken her up on that, either. I’ll still continue to see escorts. But she was right; she demystified escorting for me. Pulled back the curtain. I’ve had great sex with great escorts. And never had the slightest bit of that falling in love feeling with any of them. But, that’s what people do, they fall in love. It’s important to know the difference between the feelings in your heart and the feeling in your groin. I was lucky, luckier than most. Not because I had a relationship with a hooker, but because I had a relationship –a real relationship– with a real woman. A smart, funny, talented, sexy woman. An incomparable woman.

I spoke to her today, she called to wish me happy holidays. We still keep in touch. We laughed, we joked, we had a nice conversation, the kind any friends would have. And afterward, just as now, I cried because I miss her so. I loved her then, I love her now.

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Six inches long with a big fat head... no wonder the ladies love him

 

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional

Benjamin Franklin, the original libertine, whoremonger, hobbyist. Franklin is to this day widely quoted, his wisdom on topics ranging from farming and politics to art and literature to sex, and yes, prostitution are often called on to bolster any argument. Among his famous quotes is his advice to a young man on the advantages of romancing older women. The conclusion to his often comical advice (in the dark, all cats are gray) is “…lastly, they are so grateful!”

Escorts come in all shapes and sizes. Blondes, brunets, and redheads. Young and… more experienced.  During my recent shopping spree (thanks Obama!) one of the things I focused in on was looking for escorts often categorized as ‘mature’ or ‘MILF’. Partly because that’s where my preferences lie, partly because I have a short attention span and there are far fewer ads to sort through in those categories and mostly because… something shiny!

Truth is, I prefer the more mature escort over the young bimbo. Look, I’m not saying I have some weird granny fetish. But let’s face it I’m no 20 year old stud myself. What do I mean by ‘more mature’? Old? Sorry, I don’t consider 30 to be ‘old’. Hell, I’m old enough myself that I don’t any longer consider 50 to be ‘old’. And yes, I’ve had some incredible sex with 50+ year olds. Mature is… mature.

I generally don’t favor the younger hookers. I tend to start with somewhere around 30 and work upward. I also recognize that I’m in the minority. The majority of “hobbyists” seem to gravitate to the 19-20-22 age range. The young hardbody fake boobed bimbos. I wonder sometimes if the preference for the more youthful escorts isn’t so much about the beauty of the girl but the insecurities of the client. I saw an old guy in the store today, old around my age. Flirting with a 20-ish cutie, “here let me reach that shelf for you”, “aw, you’re so sweet!” It’s not that he was lusting after her, expecting that a smile and a favor would turn into a smile and a ‘favor’. No, It’s a chance to be looked at as something other than a doddering old fart.

When it comes to escorts, older is better. Face it, whether you like blonde or brown, skinny or fat, big boobs or flat, you’re going to find that physical appeal in any age range. What you won’t find the the girls just a few years (or less) out of school is the confidence, the sense of self that comes with maturity.

Often, I think, younger ladies look at escorting as either an easy way to fast cash, an easy way to fast cash attained by manipulating gullible men or an easy way to fast cash while experimenting and exploring their own sexuality. Hey, I’m all in favor of a girl experimenting, spreading her wings, spreading her… horizons. But turning tricks ain’t the way to do that. I would think that unless you’re already pretty comfortable with who you are as a person and as a sexual being, the constant sex-based bullshit could leave one with a biased, jaundiced view of the world of sex and how they fit into it. Plus, while I want you to explore, I want you to experiment, I want you to expand, I don’t want you to do it on my dime. I don’t see escorts so I can pay for their sexual awakening. If I’m going to shell out $300 $600 $800 for a Girl Friend Experience, I think I have a right to expect an experienced girlfriend.
Go out, have fun, seduce and be seduced. Find out what you like, what you don’t and who you are, then start thinking about doing it as a business.

The Pretty Girl Syndrome

The other thing is a lot of pretty hot young gals know they can get by purely on being pretty, hot and young. Nothing else is required of them and nothing else is offered. I’m not into that. Fuck a girl like that and it quickly becomes apparent that it’s all about her. And while mutual pleasure is a wonderful thing, I am, after all, the client.
I’m not saying I specifically intend selfishness, but neither do I expect it. Yes, I know you’re hot, much hotter than I deserve. Yes, I know you’re gorgeous, much prettier than I could reasonably expect to find in my troll bed under a bridge. Yes I know you’re young and you have a rockin’ hard body with a high, tight ass, remarkably firm, perky tits… wait, what was I saying?

I know, I know, this is a sweeping generalization, and I expect to hear dissent from both “hobbyists” and escorts, but by and large, the 20 year olds can’t hold a candle to the 30 40 50 year olds. And yes, I know, you’re that rare 24 year old who’s mature beyond her years.
Women of any age can be — and are– beautiful, sexy and desirable. But there’s something magical about a strong, mature, self confident woman. A woman whose life experiences have molded her into a sexual force to be reckoned with. A woman who can hold a conversation about art or politics or science or culture while fucking your brains out. That’s a woman who’ll keep me coming and keep me coming back for more.
That is a woman.

Boring…

I’ve been busy lately. Work has been hectic. I’m active in my community. And I’ve been banging hookers. (Yeah, plural.)

The one thing I haven’t been doing much of is hanging out on the “hobbyist” message boards. And from the looks of things, no one else is either. The message boards are dying out.

It’s no secret, I guess, that I don’t particularly care for the self-styled “hobbyists”. You wanna fuck hookers? Go to it. You wanna turn it into a goddam hobby? Maybe you should re-think treating people like a hobby. But that’s just me. What I really dislike is the hour after hour, day after day, year after fucking year of the same self-aggrandizing, thinly veiled misogyny and pissing contests. Sometimes it seems like nothing ever changes on the boards. Over a year ago, I wrote a post about how the more things change, the more they stay the same. You can see the same topics being discussed over and over and over and over… you get the point. After a while though, it’s not just the same topics (trimmed or shaved?), the same discussions (what is GFE?) but worse, the same people. The same blowhards pontificating, shooting down n00bs, and generally being bloviating asshats who think they have all the answers when it comes to the proper way to fuck hookers. Of course, they themselves never actually fuck hookers, but they sure do know more about it than anyone else.

Truth of the matter is, the boards are becoming largely unnecessary. Once upon a time there was virtually no other way to find, research and contact escorts from the privacy of your mom’s basement home. Actually getting to chat –for free- online with real honest-to-gosh women who would willingly (for a fee) have actual non-cyber sex with you was a dream come true. That you could actually ‘earn’ some level of clout based on how many hookers you fucked (or how many guys were willing to backslap ya because of how many hookers you fucked) was the social vindication many of us never got in real life.

For a time, the escort message boards were the place to be. But it is not a sustainable model. Much like mainstream social networks like Friendster and MySpace have come and gone, I think the escort message board is seeing its better days in the rearview mirror. Escort advertising, networking and contact have moved into other arenas. Most escorts these days use a variety of social media to communicate with their client base. Whereas the mesage boards used to be the only way a potential client could interact with escorts, feel them out as it were, nowadays many escorts have their own blogs where they can craft their online personas and maintain control of their message without being at the mercy of some (often unscrupulous) board operator. They can impose their own rules of what they can say, what they can show and how they present themselves. There are multiple avenues available to escorts. Many are on Twitter. Most have their own websites where a potential client can find photos, rates and booking information.

For many “hobbyists” the lure of the message board was the easy availability of the escorts and the non-judgemental attitude of their fellow “hobbyists”. For escorts, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. But many of the guys started to like the validation they got from their fellow whoremongers. They became accustomed to being the big fish in a tiny, tiny Pond. Which led to an inflated sense of their position in the hooker/client dynamic.

When it comes to reviews, more and more escorts are eschewing the review process altogether. In an era of increased law enforcement scrutiny of hooker boards, it’s not always wise to have a written record of exactly which sex acts you’re willing to perform for money. A few “hobbyist” boards have tried to reinvent themselves (again) as ‘social networking’ sites and have moved their hooker reviews to ancillary sites. “Really, totally not us! That’s totally not our site that has the same name! We just have hooker ads, not reviews!” You’re not fooling anyone. Some sites have put their reviews behind a paywall. You can only access the reviews if youre willing to fork over $20 a month. Frankly, if you’re seeing so many different hookers every month that it’s cost effective to spend that much money reading reviews, maybe think about saving a few bucks for some salve for that dick chafing. And as I’ve said before, to a large extent reviews are less about the hooker than about giving the guys a forum to recount their sexual exploits to other guys who’ll believe them. Reviews are not the only way to determine if an escort is legitimate. They are often over-inflated, or just as often, under-rated. What one guy considers ‘the best blow job EVER’ may not be what works for your dick.

There’s a flip side to this also. It’s not only the same guys in the message boards day in, day out. I often see the same girls hour after hour, seemingly 24/7. If, whether hooker or “hobbyist”, you have time to be chatting online 24 hours a day, chances are you’re not out in the real world putting real dicks in real pussies.

In the past few months, I’ve been fortunate to have enough free time and spare cash (thanks Obama!) to have spent ‘quality time’ with several different escorts. One was a lady I’ve seen many, many times before. One was recommended by that lady. One was on an out of town business trip. The others were previously unknown to me. None of them were on escort message boards.

Time to evolve.

Do it

Inch by inch

Pro Tip: If you can’t find a respectable hooker to come out to see you, maybe it’s because of all the other hookers you stood up.

If, even in a City of Sinful exotic hotties, you can’t get just one to come out to your hotel on short notice, it might have something to do with all those No Shows/No Calls back home.

Shop till you pop.

I'll take one in each size

I’ve recently had the good fortune to find myself with a bit more discretionary cash. Thanks to the economic stimulus, business has been good. More customers, more cash. Thanks Obama!

So, what to do with a spare few hundred bucks? Like you need to ask.

This time around, I decided to venture away from my usual encounters. Find a new in well to dip my quill in, a new crankcase to dip my dipstick, a new scabbard for my sword. New pussy, I’m talking about trying to find new pussy. Sorry to be so vague.

But where to go, where to look? Well, let’s go shopping for pussy, shall we?

First stop: Eros.com. I have to say, overall, this is where I’m finding quality companionship. But, damn, they make it difficult for the consumer. I think that, in a nutshell, is the problem with this site. They don’t know who the consumer is. It’s a difficult site to slog through. Bad layout. Most websites, whether news pages, shopping sites or classified listings, the main body of the page is front and center. If there are ads, they’ll be on a sidebar alongside the main article. On Eros, it’s the other way around. Huge swaths of web page real estate are given to outside banner ads. When you open any page, the first thing you see, smack dab in the middle of the screen is huge banner ads… for other escort ad sites. WTF? In fact, what should be the primary focus, the escort ads, are all tiny thumbnails running in a sidebar along the left hand side of the page. For example, I’m looking for escorts in Los Angeles, I have to scroll through a menu of cities, which takes me to a block of text links. VIP escorts, All female escorts, Visiting escorts… and about a dozen and a half different categories. Fuck it, let’s just see what’s in All Escorts. Oh, look, huge banner ads that’ll take me to pay sites. That’s what I’m looking for. No wait, I’m looking for hookers, where are they? Those tiny thumbnails. And chances are, no matter what category you choose, VIP, Visiting, Redhead, Mature, Incall, GFE… you’ll see the same 5 or 6 ads listed first. I guess those are the agencies… errr, I mean escorts… that paid a premium for having their thumbnail listed at the top of every fucking sidebar on every fucking page. It all smells vaguely pimpy.

As for the categories, it doesn’t seem to make any difference what you’re looking for. It appears that escorts can self-categorize any damn way they want. So, I’ve found listings for girls in the “Full Figured” category who are 5’1″, 110 pounds and 32 bust. The first listing in the “Redhead” category is a blonde. Followed by 3 brunets. There are 18, 20, 23 year olds listed in the “Mature” category. The categories are meaningless. Just as bad, is that an escort can give herself any name she wants, which becomes the headline for her ad. So, instead of “Sally Escort”, you’ll get “Sally VIP XXX Escort 36DDD in Beverly Hills.” I guess if some girl decided to name herself “I Will Suck Your Dick For Money In Van Nuys” they’d list that, too. There doesn’t seem to be anyone actually looking at the ads they sell and checking for quality control. Also, the Search function doesn’t work. Oh, I mean it works, just that it doesn’t actually return results based on what you’re searching for. Search for “Amber”, you’ll get “Shania”. So, even if you go in looking for contact information on a specific provider, you may still just get whoever they’re pimping… errr… whoever paid more for priority placement.

Like I said, they don’t seem to know who their customers are. And let me be clear here, I’m not their customer. I’m the target audience their customers are trying to reach. Escorts are their customers. Escorts are the ones paying them for ad space, ads whose rates are presumably based on being able to deliver the target audience. But instead, they’re sending the target audience off-site to a pay-per-view porn site or adult dating scam site.

Then there’s That Mall. Hey, That Mall, 1990 called, they want their web site design back. Practically useless. There’s a few things on there that make me chuckle. On the sidebar menu, under escorts they list 3 categories. Female. Male. Asian. Wait, what…? What if you’re a female Asian? Which category would they put you in? And if they’re going to subdivide by race or ethnicity, why not African American or Latin? Or Greek. But I digress. Then there’s the claim that all ads are verified, that ALL advertisers are required to meet with them in person. There’s a few girls on there I can’t get to meet with me for cash, but they’re going to head down to the That Mall offices? Oh, and where is the That Mall office anyway? Their phone numbers are 323 area codes, so, they’re in Los Angeles. But they have escort ads for Chicago, Texas, Atlanta and Hawaii. Did all those Chicago girls (or Asians) really come down to the Los Angeles office to meet with them in person? The thing that really cracks me up about That Mall is their banner advertising. I’m not kidding. I wonder how this dental office, with their picture of a smiling mom and baby feels about their ad banner being right above hooker ads? I guess it would make more sense if they were oral surgeons.

I guess we can’t discuss the topic of searching hooker ads without touching on the Craigslist story. Since Craigslist decided that cutting & running was the better part of valor, much has been said about their censorship of adult services ads. Yes, prostitution will go on. Yes, it’s still possible to get hooker ads online. Yes, it was a cowardly move by Craigslist and a brazen attempt to legislate morality, pander to the anti-sex puritans and restrict free speech under the guise of ‘protecting the children.’ Interestingly, many people in the escort/“hobbyist” community came rushing to the defense of the departed Craigslist Adult sections. Many of those people had long abandoned Craigslist as the bargain basement of hooker ads. I’ve made disparaging comments about “Craigslist girls.” Yes, I know that many of today’s $1,000 hotties were yesterday’s $100 Craigslist girls. But the fact remains that Craigslist had become, for the most part, the entry level of hookers. And thus, the place where cheap bastards looking for $60 dollar quickies went trolling. Not much has changed since the demise of Craigslist hooker ads when it comes to finding an escort. The ads have relocated to other venues. What has changed, of course, is that a girl who was barely scraping by on cheap quickie blowjobs now has to fork over more cash for her ads. Where she may have been spending $10, $15, $20 now she’s spending $30, $50, $300. Soon, she’ll either have to raise her rates just to cover her ad expenses or suck a boatload more dick.

Long before the Craigslist shutdown, though, cheap bastards already had a place to go. Hell, this place even has a private ‘club’ specifically for Cheap Bastards. They like to pretend that it’s a ‘social networking’ site, that they just happen to have classified ads, and sure 9.5 out of 10 of those classified ads are for hookers. But really, they’re just a community. They’re just there to exchange recipes and play Farmville. Or Hookerville. The ads there are free. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like priority placement, but essentially free. And they eschew all of the obnoxious Craigslist-esque trappings, the wild punctuation, the random capitalization, the barely disguised sexual innuendo. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like adding glitter and sparkle to your ad, but that’s tOtaLLy DiFFrenT. This is where the guys who think that $100 is way to much to spend for pussy have open and unapologetic run of the place. Can you find quality companionship there? Of course. Are there pages and pages and pages of misogynist bullshit? Of course. It’s their raison d’etre. Fortunately, you can go directly to the classified section and skip the commentary, you don’t even have to sign up to read the ads. There is one curious, comical idiosyncrasy there. Many of the providers advertising there specifically, explicitly claim that they will only see site members with verifiable references from other member providers and only those above a certain ‘trust’ level. For their safety, of course. Or, you could just look up their ad on Backpage. One positive aspect of the Broke Bastards  Board is that since they don’t allow comments on ads anymore, you don’t have to put up with slogging through 50 comments by detractors when you look at an ad.

Which of course brings us to the place where not only do they allow comments by detractors on an escort’s ad, they often actively encourage it. The Erotic Review has long been the place to go for escort ads, reviews and “hobby” discussions. The site has been around for years, and they like to think of themselves as the gold standard for escort reviews. Even after the guy running the place got sent to jail for trying to have a hooker killed, TER keeps on going. The guys currently running things haven’t (yet), to my knowledge, tried to have any hookers killed. Stalked, harassed, run out of business, sure. But not, probably not, raped or killed. Advertising on the site is free, although TER is a membership site and they do charge somewhere in the neighborhood of $20 a month for membership in order to have full access to all the site’s features. So, you can place your ad for free, but if you want to be able to look up a prospective client, look up another escort to check references or exchange messages with someone to determine their credibility, you’ll have to pony up $20 a month (recurring). All this allows you the privilege to post your ad once a week. It also allows every asswipe with an anonymous screen name and a grudge to trash you in your own ad. Piss someone off? They will make sure you know it. I’ve seen escorts place ads only to have them devolve into pages-long rants by angry hobbyists. Wonder why you place an ad and get absolutely no response? Maybe it’s because the 12 year old girls… errr… the moderators… have re-posted your ad in the Men Only Board, the better to trash you in private. I’ve seen it happen. Or maybe you wonder why your latest client’s review hasn’t shown up. It could be because the local moderator has a bug up his double-wide ass about you and has decided not to approve new reviews. And there is no recourse. It’s a dictatorship, and not a very benign one at that. The knock against TER used to be that the guy in charge abused his position to terrorize escorts, extort sexual favors and divulge personal information about them. Not much has changed, except the new guys actually go to the parties they host.

The good news is that after an exhaustive search, I did finally find someone to spend my spare few hundred dollars on (thanks Obama!). A good time was had by all, the economy was stimulated and so was I. I’m glad to report that I do apparently still have a huge cock. Good to know, good to know. It took some doing, lots of homework, lots of searching, but in the end it paid off. Finding paid pussy is still possible, but it’s not exactly easy.

And maybe it shouldn’t be.

Afternoon delight

Rawrrrrr...!

I met her, as these things so often happen, in an online forum. One of those I now regularly denigrate as dens of stupidity, misogyny and stupidity.

She was one of the first who caught my attention shortly after I joined my local “He-Man Hooker Haters Club” message board. I hadn’t set out specifically looking for her, or indeed someone much like her. I now think that’s largely because I didn’t know someone like her existed. And if she did exist, it never occurred to me that I’d find her on a hooker forum. I was looking for the typical. The usual. The no entanglement, no conversation, no expectations kinda girl.
But, I found her instead.
She was one of the first to welcome me to the board and take an interest in what I had to say. To this day, I don’t really know what it was about me that drew her to me. I have no doubts at all about what drew me in to her.
She was (and still is) hot, shapely, nasty and classy. Those long legs, that long hair, those massive magical tits. She had curves where women are supposed to have curves. She had brains where most men lack. And really, who doesn’t like a redhead?
We spent hours, days, weeks, months chatting online. We talked about art, history, literature, politics, music. And sex. We bonded over our mutual interests. I try to play things close to the vest. I try not to reveal too much of my real persona online. As I’ve said before, I think that way lies ruination. But surely, I can’t be the only whoremonger with an interest in obscure German punk rock from the 70’s. I’m not the only john who likes Warhol & Kandinsky, William Burroughs & Edgar Burroughs, Ogilvy & Mather.

But, she had stringent screening requirements. She is, after all, a professional. Part of her requirements for accepting new clients was having references from two other providers. At the time, though I’d done a fair bit of whore-fucking, it was girls whose names I barely knew, much less knew how to get in touch with again to ask for a reference.
So I set out to meet the requirements. I searched the boards for escorts with less stringent requirements. I found that even among the members of the small ‘community’ not everyone was willing to give a referral. Some providers preferred to keep their client list to themselves. So, I fucked a bunch of hookers. Oh well.
I fucked all different shapes and sizes, ages and ethnicities, GFE’s and quickies. Always with an eye on the goal, the right references that would get me in to see the creme de la creme.
We missed connections a few times. Once, she advertised an incall special in my neck of the woods, but by the time I responded, she had already booked up. If my schedule opened up, hers filled out, if she was available, I couldn’t get away from work or family.
And so it went, until she finally said “enough!”
She had arranged for a week of incalls at a ritzy downtown hotel. She insisted I come see her.
“I’m not sure I can get away, it’s the holidays, I have family coming in from out of town…”
She insisted.
“I don’t know if I can get away from work…”
She persisted.
“I don’t…” “DO IT!”
I relented.

So there I was, the day before Thanksgiving, when I should’ve been on my way to the airport to pick up arriving family, instead I was knocking on the door of a very upscale hotel suite.

She took my breath away, she was everything I’d imagined. And more. Much, much more. Even though we’d chatted online for months, even though I had seen dozens of pictures of her; racy pictures, naughty pictures, pictures of her boobs. I had never seen her face until she opened that door.

Really?

What's she trying to hide? How can I tell if I want to fuck her?

Let me just say, as an aside, that there are many escorts who choose not to show their faces in their online photos. It’s often a point of serious contention among “hobbyists.” Some guys refuse to make an appointment with a girl unless they’ve seen a picture of her face. I’ve never been in that camp. They seem to think that the only reason a girl would obscure her face is if she’s lying about something, most likely because she’s ugly.
“What’s she trying to hide?”
Really? Really??
How about she may be trying to hide her job as a hooker from her friends, her family, her clergy, her boss? Maybe she’s trying to hide her illegal activities from a mortgage loan officer. Or a police vice officer. Ya think?
The overwhelming attitude is, she must be ugly if she needs to hide her face. I have never, not once, not ever found that to be the case.
But maybe I just have different standards, or, y’know… standards. I think if you’ve done your homework, you’ve looked at her pictures, her tits her ass her legs… whatever your particular fascination may be; you’ve checked out her reviews and know what her level of service is, what other clients have to say about her, what other escorts have to say about her, you’ve spent hour after hour chatting her up online, in forums, private messages and emails… then you know what you’re getting into. I can’t imagine a situation like that where the girl would turn out to be so physically, emotionally, spiritually beautiful to you and yet you’d turn her her away because her face wasn’t up to your exacting standards. But then again, I like women. I don’t tend to think of them as ugly.

Anyway…

… where was I?

Oh yes. Knocking on that door. She, of course, was beautiful. I had expected no less, could not have hoped for more. With that first hug, first kiss at the door, we were old friends, new lovers. We bounced off every horizontal surface of that hotel room, and a few vertical ones. We laughed, we talked, we fucked. And fucked. And fucked. A one hour appointment stretched into two, and the second hour was giving way to the third when I had to reluctantly disentangle myself and return to my real world life. Saying goodbye at the door, she tried everything she could to get me to stay.

I’ve seen her often, time and time again, repeatedly since then. I’ve spent hours fucking her in hotels all over the city. I’ve left her ass print on windows overlooking all of downtown.

These are the thoughts that flooded back to me in an instant of time the other day, as we again spent an afternoon in bed, our limbs entwined in that now familiar, yet still exciting tangle. She has her personal life, her home, her family. And I have mine. Yet, there we were, another sweaty afternoon, another hour stretching into two.

Love? Who said anything about love? Not me.

I’m much too smart to fall in love with a hooker. Aren’t I?

Hello, my name is Hooker Addict…

Really? You made her cum doing her doggy-style? GFE?

…and I’m, well, a hooker addict.
Well, no, not really an addict. I can quit fucking hookers anytime I want. I just do it to relieve stress. I’m just a social hooker fucker. Sure, I mostly do it in private, sure I hide it from my friends and family, sure I can never stick to ‘just one more strange pussy.’ But that doesn’t mean I have a problem.

Look, lots of guys get caught up into the whole “hobbyist” thang. Then they find themselves seeking more and more satisfaction. One hooker is never enough. Is it an addiction? I dunno, I’m just  a guy who likes to fuck hookers.

There are certainly a lot of elements of the whole “hobbyist” milieu that lend themselves to the addictive personality. I can see where it would be easy to fall into that trap. Easily accessible pussy, even if it’s paid-for pussy, has an undeniable appeal. Add to that the virtual affirmations you get from your fellow whoremongers, and it’s a slippery slope to a downward spiral. Or something.

Not too long ago, I wrote about the pack mentality prevalent among the “hobbyist” message boards. And I should know, I’m one of them. I wrapped up that commentary with a suggestion that some of my fellow whore fucking addicts may want to re-visit Step 9, a reference, of course, to the classic 12-Step programs. Meh. I write a lot of crap.

Special Delivery

Fan mail

I love getting comments from my readers, it lets me know what all y’all out there are thinking. You don’t always  agree with me, and that’s fine. You’re wrong, but that’s OK. Most comments I approve, some are clearly spam, and some are direct attacks that just go right into the trash. Generally, I welcome all comments from my readers. And even if I disagree, I’m usually amused, enlightened or entertained. Hell, I have one crazy-ass Bitch who hits my blog on a fairly regular basis to make wild hysterical comments. I’ve approved all of those. Then… then, there’s shit like this:

I opened up the big HookerAddict mailbag one day to find this waiting for me from some disgruntled fan calling himself  “Ball Smack” from Kansas, writing from what has every appearance of being a bogus e-mail address. My new correspondent Ballie takes personal exception to my attempts to denigrate the wonderful work being done by AA. Smackeroo writes:

“Wow. I shouldn’t reply to this thread, but I have to. I guess. Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick or whatever your preference may be. No one cares. Your Bill Dubya campaign isn’t fooling anyone and twits like you will continue to ruin what he was striving for.

Please stop trying to ruin his mission because you feel let down.”

I.. well.. I don’t…

Step it up

Where to start, where to start.

“I shouldn’t reply to this thread. But I have to…” Isn’t that a bit like “I shouldn’t chug this Wild Turkey. But I guess I have to.”? You don’t have to. Free will and all that.

“Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick…” May I direct you to Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and Step 7: Humbly asked god to remove our shortcomings

I am not now, nor have I ever been a member or participant in any 12-Step recovery program. And I don’t feel let down. For the record, I don’t believe in them. I think they’re bullshit. I’m sure someone in the vastness of the Internets will pipe in with stories of how being a Friend of Bill W saved their lives, and I’m certain there are abundant success stories out there.  I know a lot of “hobbyists” who are, as well as friends and co-workers who are “Friends of Bill.” I still think it’s bullshit. Because I think that the core of the program is to exchange one addiction for another. You give up your addictions to booze, dope, gambling or pussy and replace them with addictions to god, meetings, validation and bad coffee.

If you’re a so-called “hobbyist” in so-called recovery, fucking act like you believe in your platitudes. Instead of blaming those dirty whores for your failings, think about humbly asking your god to remove your shortcomings. Instead of lashing out at hookers (or bloggers) maybe it’s time to once again make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves. And, having slipped from the path and hidden behind your cloak of Internet anonymity to bash, berate, degrade and vilify those hookers whom you’ve picked as targets for your vitriol, may I once again suggest you revisit Step 9.

P.S. I’ve approved “Ball Smack’s” comment.