Wednesday, February 28, 2007


Let me start with the most promising type that I saw: pretty boyfriend, partner boyfriend.

Let's call him Jack, and his girlfriend Joann. They are in it together, probably from the very beginning. He's the driver, the body guard. That's why I ran into them together once. He's medium tall, looked gentle, soft speaking, with a pair of intellectual eye glasses, sort of pretty, but too gay for many girls' taste.

I imagined that it's Joann's only way to keep him and settle him down at a young age - to sacrifice herself. They are a young couple who couldn't find things worthwhile to do. So Joan worked, got the money to enjoy life while they are young, and put him through college, or that sort of thing. I know they borrow from the Madam sometimes when business is slow, and Joann work it off. It's also Madam's way to maintain a steady supply of workers, rather than everybody becoming freelancers.

It's hard to explain. I think it's Joann's idea rather than Jack manipulating her into working. The last time I heard, they are still together after at least several years. Jack finished his college and got a job for 30K a year. It's not enough for Joann to leave work, especially when Joann wants a new Z3. While Chanel is breaking up with her boyfriend and losing her new 740 'company' car at the end of the lease. Joann was a college girl next door type. Now she bolted on a pair of double D's and carries on.

How do I know all these? You may have guessed. Joann is Chanel's buddy. And of course I fucked them both.

Chanel and Joann probably started together, but Chanel didn't give me the chance to say I knew. When I mentioned that Joann is pretty good, and that I saw her several times, Chanel would say she worked a lot longer than she did. They both worked for that Madam. Joann opted for a steady income and stayed with the Madam and several other agencies. Chanel had nothing to lose as she was living with her mother. And since her face is more outstanding, she got picked for a higher end agency for a while. That's when I met her.

Since I knew Chanel's history by asking around insiders, I didn't like the high end agency fee a bit. When I tried to persuade Chanel to skip the agency and go private with me, she refused but told me she could recommend a 'cheaper' friend to me, who must be Joann. But Chanel never introduced Joann to me. In this case introduction would be silly for Chanel. At that time if I met Joann I would certainly switch.

I met Joann by accident. An agent called me that he had a new girl that I must see. I screwed up big time on the traffic. The girl had other commitments when I arrived. So the agent called another girl to cover for the must-see girl. So I ended up with Joann, and I found out that the must-see girl was Chanel. The good thing was that, this agency was less high end than the agency that I used to book Chanel. So later I gave Chanel an offer that she couldn't refuse, without breaking my bank. And I got hooked on her.

Back to Joann. She's pretty but not outstanding. She is slender with some meat on the right places, slightly taller than Chanel and slightly heavier. I can remember her pale round tight bouncy bottom. I can say that Joann and Jack is not about great sex or are fuck buddies. It's more like companionship and comfort sex. How do I know? Did I say that I fucked Joann?

At the time, when Chanel didn't budge on her high end agency fee, I asked for Joann instead. Maybe I asked for her really because I wanted Chanel to know, and make her jealous. But certainly I liked Joann, so I had nothing to lose.

Of course Joann remembered me. Many girls tried hard to impress me (and others) at the first date, saying how much they appreciate my patronage and how eager they want to please me, and look at me with sparkles in their eyes. Many other girls maintain some distance and remain cool or lurk warm on first date. But if I asked for them again they will change dramatically. They may like me very much on first date, but the chance for average clients to ask for them again is pretty small. So they don't want to waste their effort or emotions. Joann is one of these.

So it's pretty easy to get Joann's private number. I called her the next week for a long session, on her freelance day. They always wear causals, plain enough to go in and out of residential houses without attracting attention. That day she got something special for me underneath. She deduced me with her cartoon panties and matching white socks.

The next time I called her, she didn't sound at all enthusiastic. She couldn't have forgotten about me. She told me in plain voice that she couldn't make it that day, but maybe the day after. May be Madam was around. But being me, I could imagine that Chanel wasn't happy, had some territorial issues with her regarding me, and that Jack wasn't too happy about me. It seemed to me that Jack is always around to make sure that her girlfriend doesn't run away with anybody, and to make sure that Joann wasn't enjoying herself too much. I didn't date Joann again for no particular reason. If we met that day things could turn out very differently.

Boyfriends who know what their girlfriends do would find it hard to deal with. But for Jack it's particularly hard.
The new Dom in training, who got my vote for most likely to succeed, once recommended my blog for writing about but not judging call girls. I felt so like a bimbo. I just don't feel like to open cans of worms. And there's not much to judge, similar stories, too much sex too early, short of money or want a lot of things, boy friends who know or not.

What is there to like? She may put a john into the no list and hang up just because he asked the wrong question on the phone. We spend on average seconds on the pictures that get rejected. We also make split second decisions, whether to walk away, or open the door. Johns and hookers all feel so powerful (and yet so vulnerable), which is unhealthy. Normal people give other people more chances than that. I remember someone said when a guy said something boring or wrong, she would think that the guy is lucky when she is there for free.

Are we jealous of others? Very difficult unless there is a deeper personal connection involved. For example, the following comments are left by call girls on their clients, and the true meaning behind them that don't make me jealous.

a cool laid back guy ---------------- all talk and no action
very handsome -------------------- can dine with him without losing appetite
a total gentleman ------------------- 2 minute tops
wonderful time --------------------- my pussy didn't feel a thing

And since everybody seems to have a boyfriend, that will be next.

Monday, February 26, 2007

100 for a handjob or a blowjob? It's one of those little things in that blog that I find strange. Not in New York or anywhere else. 150 for the full package sounds mainstream for Craig's Lists, but 200 for the hour seems too weak.

Let's assume that a girl charges 150 for half hour. Once in a blue moon some girls may charge 320 or 350 for an hour. Some smart guys will insist on booking two half hours instead of one hour. But in reality those girls aren't that stupid and those guys aren't that smart. The price structure reflects the pain of these girls in facing clients for the full hour. Avoid.

Back to story. If a girl want to say she's busy, she would charge exactly 300 for one hour. Or a little discount say 280 or down to 250 to reflect the reduced overhead. Charging extra 50 for half an hour of company seems so cheap. (Specials to regulars at slow times are different.)

With reference to 150 for half hour or one shot, 100 for a blowjob seems right? Not. While you can find plenty of 150 offers but 100 blowjobs are hard to find. Many girls don't offer half hours because they are supposed to get better clients. If you offer 100 for a blowjob, you are getting those clients who don't have 150 to spend. Though it's not unheard of for 100 blowjob. Some super hot streetwalkers who aren't interested in exercising their pussy and who are very picky about their clients, may offer a 100 blowjob to those that look right. It's the most expensive blowjob in the world. Expensive call girls don't offer just a blowjob except for special cases. Clients aren't looking for a blowjob either, except for special cases. For those who don't have 150, 100 is too expensive.

For the same analysis, a 100 handjob will be the most expensive in the universe! (Except for rip-off artists of course.)

So I wonder being independent doesn't make sense all the time for everybody. Clueless? For that blogger in question, she doesn't have a germ induced obsessive-compulsive disorder. Clients can cum all over her, and in her mouth too. I think she charges too little in that respect.

And if you are so prone to making a serious of wrong decisions and back yourself into a corner, it could be better to work for someone else, or have some partners. Or at least hire two gardeners to drive you around and sit at the parking lot.

Also, emailing back and forth to find clients in Craig's list is crazy. It's worth the time if you are looking for something big, those clients who think they are looking for non-pros and are willing to pay for it. She isn't looking for that. The other guys are low-ballers, who want to negotiate discounts, and want to demand precisely what they want. The other others are too good looking to pay the full price just as everybody else. Girls who emails are usually those who can't compete on pictures.

On the other hand, she may know something that I don't, which is not a surprise.

Thanks James for playing. Who's next? How about the call girl turning into a DOM? I'm totally not surprised! I'll vote for her as the most likely to succeed.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

The Whoremonger, aka James, has a great sense of humor. He has to have from now on. British women are unattractive according to him. If he has his way, all the over weight women and those with eating disorders in Dominican Republic will be rounded up and deported to Haiti.

James is very picky about bloggers' English, which must be the result of frustration having no English spoken to him. If he is in charge of foreign policy, expensive prostitutes costing hundreds of dollars will be banned, and the money saved will turn into foreign aid to help single mothers and their kids. Sending voluntary troops to entertain will be part of the package.

James is probably an English language consultant over there, but that didn't stop him from selling in his spare time for commission, some phone cards and the crappy camcorder. You know, camcorder is just like penis. Size is everything. If the len is small, the picture will be grainy indoors and unwatchable at low light.

Never mind the women, I like my sidewalks paved! I can't get into the mood walking around potholes, uneven and dusty pathways. California concrete is OK. Centuries old cobble stone as in Guildford and other high streets are romantic. A Venetian port under star light is grand.

Similarly, I like refined women, be it superficial. But it doesn't necessarily mean makeup. If we meet early after lunch, Chanel liked to see me without any makeup on, so I couldn't possibly mess anything up on her face. When she upsets me, she would see me eye to eye, nose almost touching, not apologizing, but as if telling me, "I'm so pretty without makeup, I'm so worth it, and you are going to call me again in a few weeks". I'm had no problem with her not making up, until she arrived with beautiful makeup on and sexy dresses. I was so jealous because I was sure that she was going somewhere important after me. So she promised me to make up and look beautiful for me too. But the problem was, she complained that those makeup that I prefer, as if no makeup had been done, are expensive. I lifted her makeup better than any cleanser, so all the hard work will only last for an hour and she had to reapply everything all over again. So the compromise was for her to put on some powder instead.

I'm turned on by her well trimmed eye brows. Fine long hair flowing weightlessly. I like manicure and pedicure, even all natural nails, which I preferred. High heels, or designer slippers.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Do you smell fish?

For the first time, I have doubts about a blog, this blog. I may be totally wrong. The money doesn't sound right. Or everything is too right that I can write that. Most of it can be considered male fantasy. I did read every post and put some to gender test with simple word counting. The majority of entries are female, with some males. The femaleness isn't overwhelming. For comparison, my best long pieces are females too.

OK, it's all trivial small things, the biggest is perhaps she linked Whoremonger but not me!

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I'm bored

This is Shiona, a porn star/model, whose pictures are occasionally borrowed to appear on Craig's List.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

My Valentine Gift

I can't Google any decent looking Valentine widgets for blogs that are compatible with IE6 IE7 and firefox. So this is a simple one for fellow bloggers:

Friday, February 09, 2007

The secret of luxury travel

is to gate crash an academic xxx conference in a half corrupted developing country! This combination is a dying breed so hurry up when you can.

I have read enough playmates' and players' luxury and not so luxury travel blogs. Here's my turn to write once.

It's a sort of gate crash as I have nothing to do with xxx other than a tourist. You have to know somebody to know that such good deal exists, as the "conference" are highly subsidized. The best is to find some sponsors to further write off some of the travel and conference fees for you and your accompanying spouse. Or simple get round some of it.

The conference organizer is some sort of ministry of xxx. Who can top that? The Head wants to throw a party for his own people with the excuse. He is a powerful man controlling the most lucrative ministries. Maybe he wasn't throwing a party. But somehow he was coming, so everybody tried to impress him with their resources and budgets.

Everybody lived in the brand new 5 star luxury hotel in town. I think the hotel was called upon to serve the country as no modest academics in the developed world would get those travel expenses approved. I doubt if there's any other decent hotel in town, as there was no beach resort there. But the pool with waterfalls brought a Mirage in Vegas feel. At first the staff were hunger for 5 star tips. But after the ministry put a big banner at the hotel front to welcome us guests, all staff knew who we were and felt it was an honor to serve us, even without tips. When I needed a taxi, they would call a street taxi for me, instead of the hotel taxis charged 5 star prices.

There were two gorgeous female staff looking after the male (and female) changing room for the pools and fitness center. One was fitness model material, early twenties, wearing tight vest and short, some sort of aerobic outfit. The other was late twenties, more like a beauty technician. At least one of them were available for massage! Not on them you silly. They would just walk into the changing room and massage you on the bench. I was tempted as the changing room was empty. They also did outcalls to your rooms! But unfortunately I brought my own - a 'friend". But I bet you won't get any serious extras unless you offer them enough to risk being fired.

The conference was held in a university theater built like a mini Albert Hall. The less than 100 attendee from all over the world were put in the middle, a few famous people passed their sell by date, surrounded by a full house of students watching from every available seat, including up there in the box seats. It took the organizers Disney parking lot style operations to bring in bus loads of university students from all over the country, to time share the available seats. At least they are supposed to look like U students. Even the lunch boxes to feed those students was a logistic challenge. But I was sure nobody was interested in the proceedings.

I did appeared for receptions and orientations, and did my part, looking good in a white linen shirt and a light colored linen suit. They had lots of good student photographers taking pictures of everybody like paparazzi. I had one picture taken like walking out of the Oscar's with my friend. Pictures were sold for cost only.

The best was of course the freebies that came with the conference. The dinner was outdoors with about a hundred kiosks, each with different unique styles of gorgeous food representing all over the country. The smell of exotic barbecue filled the air. But I didn't manage to eat anything. Because there was a fashion show! They flew in enough local top models to last the evening. That was a good enough excuse to flood the place with gorgeous models who had to stay the night at least. Though the Head was well known for not liking women.

We were basically standing right next to the catwalk to have a better look than sitting down. The Organizer, a close assistance to the Head, would tell a small circle of us friends to watch carefully. She knew some of the models and knew who would be available. Available probably meant single and looking. Or it might mean not yet taken up by the VIP's. That's sad as I had a friend with me. There was this young single American architect, who could just be a student studying architecture who didn't want to go home, took up the offer seriously. But that didn't stop him from hitting on my friend first. I let him talk a bit, boosting my ego. See, few came here for the tourism conference. Typically there were a lot more people at the night activities than the day. There were few lights apart from the stage. All the paths were candle lit, all the way back to the hotel, with different traditional musicians along the way.

There was an ancient dance show in a big impressive outdoor theater in ancient settings. It was not a show for the average tourists. All the glamorous costumes were in meticulous conditions. And of course the dancers were all model materials. The next day, when we left on a tour bus, from afar I could see that workers were pulling down a large stage and surrounding structures. No one bordered about it, or no one in the know was willing to talk about it. I over heard some locals saying that it's a one-night theater. I think I was right. They built the whole theater and stage with a World Heritage site as the backdrop. And since they weren't supposed to do that to a World Heritage site, they pulled it down the next day after the show.

When we weren't at the conference, the excursions include a day trip up the xxx, because my friend wanted to. So we hired a jeep. I insisted on examining the insurance cover. There were none. The guy reluctantly brought out some insurance policies, but the cover was so laughable that we went unprotected. Less than 10 mins after we left the hotel, I got trapped between two trucks, cut off by one of them and left a big dent on my jeep. So I entered into drag racing mode and we were OK since. The good thing was, we did not need to pay for the damage. Otherwise the rental guy in the hotel would have no business. When we needed a jeep again, he just avoided the same company that supplied our jeep last time.

The scenery was beautiful as we go higher up. At the xxx there was a large xxx lake. There was a traditional boat to sight see but it would take forever. Someone offered us a speed boat tour. They raised a small speed boat from under the water! Later we knew that those guys offering the speed boat wasn't in good terms with the other guys, so they need to hide the boat when not in use. After a quick and thorough tour we went back down. We were just on time for a small outdoor theater production after dark, again dance/drama in ancient costumes. Perfect for resting tired legs.

With the conference behind us, I flew with my friend to a nearby world famous beach resort. After all, it's summer. The night life was rich and concentrated behind one of the main beaches, with endless restaurants, bars and pubs. It was a bit like Jerusalem with all dominations - though not of faith but a variety of eating and drinking places. There were a lot of young backpackers to meet, as in European hostels. There were also plenty of mainstream tourists leaving their resort hotels once a while. It was a high energy place.

Soon I decided to move on to an island nearby so there couldn't be much things to do, except for lying on the beach or lying in bed. Unfortunately all sorts of water sports were available, water parachuting, jets, banana float rides etc. Worst of all, my friend saw some boats waiting on the beach and she wanted to charter one. It was a long trip to some remote islands. In the middle of nowhere the boat stopped for a visit of some rare corals. So we dipped in the water a bit, snorkeled a bit, and looked down 20 feet at the corals through the crystal waters. At the end nobody was sure which were the rare ones.

When we arrived at the remote island, a few shy, naked or semi naked woman were alerted, watched us for a while, smiled with approval, and then laid back down to enjoy their sun bath. Then we occupied part of the island and did nothing much other than snorkeling around the beautiful and plentiful corals by the beach.

On the way back, all hell broke loose. The boat was shooting like an arrow below the wave tops. We were all wet either because of the rain storm or the waves. The wooden boat was very streamlined and tough, which looked good, but I didn't know about the engine, which was at top speed to overcome the waves. Then I knew where approximately we were, where ferries sank and loads of people died.

It was an exhausting trip, including the indoor activities that I can't write about.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Wet dreams

Water water everywhere. It was raining today. I'm drinking tea. If I close my eyes, I would be thinking about all the water in a swimming pool. Damn it. Well, if you can't fight it ...

My buddy's girlfriend trusted me with her little sister. As teenagers I took her to a water theme park for a date. That was a mistake. Whenever we lineup for some water rides, a few little boys would lineup behind us. We were sure that a little boy about ten had a crush on her, following right behind us all the time. She was very pretty, in a tight one piece swim suit. Her body was well developed yet she was a little spinner retaining an innocent look. Both wet and dry, she was a bomb. I was wearing a speedo, drooling over her all day long. That was the mistake.

What could you do in a busy water theme park?! At last we came across a dead end corner. There was a fountain there where the water was at waist height. Immediately I dragged her into the corner, blocked from view by the fountain.

I held her in the water, one arm across her shoulder and the other across her legs. I looked at her eyes in total lust. She looked down at my chest anticipating. I kissed her. It was electrifying. She was totally relaxed as if she had just been stunned. Being in part of the fountain, water kept rushing up fiercely, supporting her body. So my other hand was free to caress her body. Water that gone up came down hard on us, all over us. My hands were all over her body. Then we held each other tight kneeling down, partially hide in the water so as not to attract attention. I let her feel my bursting speedo between her legs. Then I grabbed her bottom hard and pressed hard against my body.

My lips never left hers as if they were all magnets. But I kept my eyes open watching her back, to see if somebody was watching us. I just hoped that she was doing the same. I could see a man walked into the corner, surprised, and then pulled back a little to hide himself. He was watching, perhaps enjoying himself as well as making sure that there were no criminal activities. But he couldn't watch long without being obvious. So we carried on.

But damn. How do you do it in water? It's difficult enough to pee!

The heavenly hand

I follow every instruction from my Goddess, deep breathing in and out, in and out, while she rubbed me down there. All of a sudden I lost my breathing rhythm and gasped for air big time. I didn't have trouble breathing but sure it looked scary to her. She immediately took me to another room without scented candles, or were they incenses? There must be something not ordinary in them.

Shortly I recovered and she carried on her job. I enjoyed it. I got her undivided attention for an hour. For a massage I usually go into a trance by myself or just fall asleep. For her service she had to talk me through everything and I had to give her feedback, totally interactive. But it felt too clinical. I was hard for a short while and then became totally limp. I should have told her to stop but I didn't want to leave empty handed, hers. She doubled her effort. Finally I did it but it was torture. I never came near any goddess since.

Do I want to last long and have profound orgasm? Oh yes. Do I believe in Tantra, may be. I don't take drugs because the extra highs don't worth the consequences. More importantly, those highs are not "real" to me. It seems like a bit of virtual reality, cheating yourself. Similarly for alcohol, I enjoy it as the best drink accompanying food. I do lost a bit of inhibition with it. But I don't want to let lose of myself through alcohol, I want to let go by myself, I want to be in control.

I know Tantra is different, it's not material but more like spiritual. But I last long enough and my orgasms are pretty good. I have partners for mutual enjoyment, and I also pick partners for my sole enjoyment. Like work, I have to pick battles to fight, but Tantra isn't one of it.

My kind of technique is, do it like teens from time to time, with a good diet and plenty of beauty sleep, I can become invincible. I was in that state once when a girl tested me by trying to blow me to completion. She took failure gracefully. Other times, I was being over estimated, exploding all over the opponent.

Up with the goddesses

Santa Monica was rather quiet around Midnight. There were still traffic: may be one car every few seconds. Some restaurants were still open, but they were pretty empty inside. I didn't remember why I was there and what I had been doing. One thing was certain, it was hard to find anybody on standby at those hours. I didn't remember I had this Tantra goddess on my short list, or I found her through some free publications on the streets. But I had been wanting to try.

Like the uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics, the more pretty the girl, the less she provides. If one can sell full body sensual massage for $200, there's little motivation to sell her kitty for more. At the extreme, there's a generation of all American Vietnamese girls putting themselves through college, or finding temporary employment after high school, providing nothing other than an excellent massage. From my limited experiences in strip clubs in Vegas and LA, these skinny girls will cause a riot if they appear. Tantra could be somewhere in between; some girls just want to get away with a hand job. Of course others are well trained.

Her temple was in a dense apartment complex by the freeway. The parking lot was full, meaning lots of people, but there was silence in the air. The moment she opened the door, I could sense the manufactured looks about her. She stretched her arms horizontally, resting on both sides of the entrance, also a gesture of arm opening welcome. She stood there tall and bare foot, with one leg slightly in front of the other, like a model post. Harmonious light came from behind her, highlighting her silhouette, which was that of a fit, leggy, curvy Brazilian mix.

I didn't remember what she had on. It was bright green, something tight and tiny, a body suit, a tube top, or just a vest. What I remembered was a bright red piece of cloth, that she used like a bikini cover-up, a tiny triangular short skirt. Of course I went inside without hesitation. The colors and pattern of her outfit was rather unique, which could be derived from a mixture of Far East, South Asian, and Middle East.

Her temple was spacious, clean, well decorated with Tantric symbols. I didn't remember much about the massage, which had to be pretty average. I was sure that that I could not get anywhere with her, to my disappointment. But then if I followed her down the Tantric path, I could have the goddess worship after a few sessions. At least that was what I heard in a semi-conscious state.

Finally the hand job came. It was different as she was seriously talking through the theories and techniques along the way. Now I can think of why Japanese porn are good: they are so serious that you just can't laugh whatever they are doing. The atmosphere can easily leak through the screen, or you being sucked into it.

Continue tomorrow perhaps. Sleepy.