There is a reading of some erotic writings of a dirty little mind by a female voice, the first suitable article on my blog roll, in this post. I moved the post away from the front page because of the audio.

I have a new time waster. I'm becoming a car mechanic (and electronic?) to take care of my cars. The reason? Whores, what else!

I became a plumber when they charge me one grand to install something that you can buy in the hardware store for $50. I can buy all the nice toys in the hardware store, play with my pipes, and still have change to see a hooker or two. Or, a few massages to ease the muscle ache after hard work, and perhaps to release the tension of risking failure and flood.

The same thing happened when I took my car for regular servicing. I had enough. I used to drop my car at the dealers for everything. In return I got a rose. I was successfully threatened with warranty and resale value. The list of extra work done on my car even for simple services didn't make sense to me, except for the sky high price.

I started driving late in life. I even picked a house within walking distance to the train station and my 1st job. There everybody take the train to get out of town, get a life (as in London), and back. The car is just something to have, and they always are a burden to me. I didn't waited forever to drive at 16 and got an orgasm for my 1st car.

I am very much like a stereotypical woman driver and the mechanics punished me hard for it. Now everything make sense to me with the net. I came across complete manuals that include every bolts. I could see what mechanics do on youtube. They charge an hour to unscrew a nut or two?!

I think dealers charge $90 to $100 an hour labor, friendly neighborhood mechanics $80 - I'm in a bad neighborhood in that sense. (But still US dealers are a lot more reasonable than European ones.) Usually you have to fix a pair or two, multiplying that for two to four! It doesn't make any sense when if I can get the work done and get pampered afterwards.

To make the labor cost look reasonable, the parts quoted are over twice the price at eBaymotors for example - for the same OEM part. If not it's all over the net and Amazon delivers free. Now multiply the savings by two to four - you get a whore or two or a few massages.

In addition, you can hook up the on-board computer to your laptop and play around with it such as maximizing your mileage, saving gas. There is extensive on-board diagnostics since 1996 and the mechanics still insist that the codes don't tell you anything. But that's how they are supposed to do the diagnostics, and with google every code make sense.

Also, my cars are usually so dirty that I wouldn't go near, except for getting in. I believed that to keep the paint in top condition you need frequent waxing. And to wax you need to clean the car completely and dry thoroughly. A European hand wash used to cost you an arm and a leg. The American ones are really cyborgs. The robots are really good except when you need to touch the car, for gentle brushing and drying for example. But still you need to drink a few coffee waiting painfully while you car is being washed. Having Wi-Fi is good, but believer me you don't to see me "working" at my laptop in public. So usually I wait until I cannot tolerate the dirt, and then take my cars to be cleaned thoroughly and professionally.

Now I'm rather happy with the dry wash spray that is safe for skin. At least one dealer is happy with it for the amount of water saved, and more importantly labor. Before that I though I would like to wash my own cars and keep it sparkling. But on every public drain is the warning that the water goes directly into the beaches, even though I'm not that close. It doesn't look sensitive enough if you wash your car outside the house. Now I can even wash my wheels with biodegradable detergent inside my garage with just one bucket. It's not dry, but the dirty water goes into the toilet easily. What split in the garage is a negligible fraction of the dirt on my wheels, and the bio detergent. Also, modern technology means that the microfibre cloth I use for washing are easily taken care of with my modern washer and modern detergent.

Cleaning my dirty wheels takes 5 minutes with pipeling. I got to see the full glory of my alloy wheels more. It takes about the same time to get to the car wash, and I'm lazy. I can do it in my pajamas before taking a bath. Now even under the hood is relatively free of dust and grease.

I used to have a neighbor a few houses down the road. He had a taller, trophy type wife and a beautiful kid (a daughter). But he spent a lot of times with his classic car or may be kit car, washing them with only a bucket of water. I thought he was a special car dealer but I never asked. Geeks and car enthusiastic don't go well. But now I understand. Also, women make the world goes around.

Let me pay my respect to the true professionals, who can release tension, make love, make people happy and all that.

Compensated dating

Chanel is particularly jealous when I went abroad with compensated dating services. Her clients told her all about it. I even asked her to give me reliable contacts but she refused. Those types in the news are more for referrals among locals. Since prostitution is semi legal, group members are more likely to have met each other, and that's the usual criteria to get insider information. Unlike in US, where you may refer your online buddy to your regular, without telling her that you never met your buddy, who could be a serial killer.

But you don't really need referrals. Dating can be included if you want. You really want to hang around someone who look the part (old enough) to have dinner and watch a movie. You can find some online something a bit like Craig's lists.

They are close to happy hookers in my book. You have to meet them outside some shops or stations, telling them what you are wearing. I'm sure if there's something not right, they will not appear. Some girls ask for travel expenses beforehand, if you decide not to go ahead after meeting them. And potential clients honors the practice. These girls are not that confident or they are too hot and their time is very precious - you never know.

I suppose they are common but looking at the whole industry, they are just sand in the desert. For the price you can have model types twice over, if you want to skip the dating part. If you have time and money to spare, hostess clubs are more mainstream. Anyway, the dating part is increasingly by special request only.

It's an irony if you think that these girls are victims, but in US they punish the victims to deter others from becoming victims. ???

It's naive to think that the problem don't exist in US. Because it's illegal, it turns into something more risky. We have teenagers turning into rip-off artists, because you can't even break even being no-touch dancers, or fully legal escorts. Whole books are written on how to do it. Girls and clients are murdered because of rage.

I met a girl from the fly over zones who probably dropped out before 19 and went to DC as an escort, another went to Hawaii. She hated it and became a semi rip-off artists since. When she showed me pictures of her class reunion, she could point out that many became hookers too. I also met a few of her friends, who she met in cook school or something, who were also game.

What not to do at Halloween

Luckily it didn't happen to me anywhere near Halloween.

I saw a brief ad without pictures asking for the top going rate at a location near me. Most would ignore it, others would dismissed it as a rip-off, when 99% at my area were. I bet it wasn't, and taking risks have their rewards. It was an incall so I could pull out at the door. It wouldn't waste much time as she was close to me. There weren't that much chance nearby to take risks.

It was a decent motel, so a long term relationship wasn't likely as compared to her home. Living in a rip-off state and county, I train myself to say no thank you, turn away or just run whenever something doesn't seem right. I repeated the drill in my head and then knocked at the door.

The door opened just enough for me to get in. It seemed that the electricity to the motel was cut off due to accidental overload or something. She made do with some faint light in her room. She was standing behind the door so I could see nothing. I wouldn't go in that way.

During the standoff, a head suddenly popped out from behind the door, which made me jumped! It was a witch.

Stupid witch. It was her idea to block off the bright sunlight outside, and made atmosphere in the room using candle lights! Did she read the news about how many houses were burnt like that?

She actually looked like a witch with tall nose, sharp chins, wide thin lips pointing upwards, small piercing eyes, long eyebrows pointing downwards, and ghostly white skin. She wasn't ugly or old. She might be early thirties or younger, but her face would look older than she actually was. Worse still, she was in black lingerie, a teddy like outfit that wasn't showing much, more like hiding her age.

After the initial shock, she looked good enough for me to get inside, and a counter offer would fix anything. I asked for more lights and she did it apologetically. She looked better in the light and she didn't seem to have anything to hide. She wasn't tall but she had nice legs, and she was in good condition overall. So I accepted the offer without modification, knowing that she would be willing to please, and not a rip-off.

Actually her body was great, organic and slender like a 20 year old. Somebody goes for perfect tan, like the golden crust in a pizza. Somebody have to go for deep tan to hide things, like a Kentucky Fried Chicken. She went for the flawless pale look, which was perfect as a sashimi (and bloody raw steak) lover like me. Color-wise, it have to be like Hawaiian style tuna, slightly cooked at the outside. Spontaneously I asked if she would take a shower with me. She agreed with a mature woman's voice, and like nothing that she could not handle, very unlike her young looking body.

My idea of a shower is of course me applying body wash (or if there isn't any, shampoo) all over her from neck to toes. I wasn't sucking toes then but I instinctively washed her toes one by one. She was rather small and so was her feet. Her skin was perfect, or so it felt. She appreciated my attention to her body, and signed:"why don't boy friends do that?".

And so I did it, like many times before. Then I rolled over, recuperated, and chatted a bit.

I think I told the story before. She was an exercise equipment model on TV. Small is good because the equipments looked big. And she didn't have to show her face much.

When I was ready to go I got up and put my clothes back on, while she was lying casually, diagonally on the bed, fully naked with light on. Most girls show their best at the end, so you will remember and come back. Her best was fully naked, not that I can say about many others. I slowed down and got even slower. I was aroused, not that much physically but mentally. I told myself what a waste if I couldn't consume this piece of prime meat once again.

I asked if I could do it again. She just accepted in a mature sort of way. I was rather gentle with her anyway, my usual for the first meet. She wanted me back because there would not be many people in town who would take that much risks. It was hard work.

Barcelona

It was suppose to be a week's get away with my wing man at the beaches near Costa del Sol. For the price the apartment was surprisingly nice - spacious, quiet, central location, and rather new. The supermarket was a block away, like any supermarket, fully stocked with booze, which was rather cheap in terms of pesos.

The beaches was torture. It was full of teenage girls, topless, sitting shoulder to shoulder. You could hardly find an empty spot on the free beaches. The nightlife was not a lot better. It was full of people inside the discos, and outside the plazas. You could pick a quiet place to sit down but you would be surrounded by people doing the same.

But we were fine. We went there for the nothingless, and we managed to go out even less than we expected. We weren't too much over aged (:cough), but we never fit in with those crowds, at "home" or abroad.

We took a day trip to Barcelona but we liked it too much that we stayed there for a day or two. The red light district, which is also a tourist district, is full of outdoor restaurants, cafes, tasteful or tasteless shops. There was a block full of hookers even in day time. If you picked one, you could just walk up the stairs right there. The day time shift could not be too bad looking, at least for the top dogs. One sexy housewife dressed in white like a Greek goddess. She tried to talk to me but I turned her down in front of all her colleagues. I should had been more polite. She looked away the next time I walked pass.


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There were even one or two model like or teen model like girls hanging around, in decent but trendy dresses, totally out of place. But I thought they might be tourists or locals having fun pretending, or playing dare with their friends.

But we weren't staying in Barcelona for that (:cough). We both scored earlier in our own sort of way. Back in the beach, while I was sunbathing face down on the sand at a remote corner. A few local chat up artists tried to chat me up. Unfortunately they were boys, thinking that I was a shy tourist girl who hid at a corner to get rid of the top and bikini lines. I had my rock star hair then. I knew many girls wanted my legs. Years later many hookers still wanted my waist. After I discovered my foot fetish I also discovered that my toes are rather outstanding.

While sitting on a bench in a plaza crowed with people at night, the girl next to my wing man spoke to him briefly. Later I asked him what she said. He said she offered him sex for money. He was to shy and too righteous to take up the offer. He needed a devil like me to tell him to do things at his ears. He was a strong fit man in good shape and decent looking, though might be considered one of the ugly toads. He looked like he hadn't scored in ages, but he looked loaded and he probably was.

I was walking alone at night around the narrow side streets, losing myself in the crowd. I also had the habit of checking out the sleazy part of town whenever I visited a city center, mostly due to work. When I got to a drinking place, I saw a tall and slender, fully grown woman by the door, probably taking a breath of fresh air. Her dress wasn't hooker like, modest but tight and colorful.

I looked at her in a friendly way, hoping that she was interested in me or she was game. After all, the place wasn't the most classy nightclub. People inside only bothered about drinking and talking. People outside only bothered about getting around the narrow streets. Nobody bothered or noticed what we were doing. Her attractiveness overcame my shyness. I used my head to say "let's go". She used her eyes and smile to ask me if I was mistaken - she was no angel. I was certain she was game and off we went.


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She took me to a hotel among the narrow streets. I thought it was sleazy but it wasn't, perhaps just specialized for short term stays. At the busy and almost non-existent lobby, we met an eye catching couple who also got a room. The guy was tall, dark and handsome, like a bullfighter in a Tango suit. The woman had a sparking dress and a pair of nice full legs, and much else. The couple was like coming right out of "dancing with the stars".

After we did it, she took the effort to chat with me via my Spanish phrase book. She was one of the flamingo dancers in the joint and would like me to return to watch her perform. It could be fun but I couldn't imagine how I fit in with those crowds. I wasn't sure I would want to do it again over there as it was heat of the moment.

One day I was still out in the streets at dawn. It was the time all the phantoms came out. The pretty tree-lined tourist area turned into a nightmare zone, as busy as day time. Instead of tourists, there were the late shift hookers, the bottom of the pack that you don't normally come across, their boyfriend, their pimps, the cleanup crew who aren't normally looking looking enough to get a job at other times. But after a minute or two, I realized that they were all enjoying themselves for the short time they had got. Some winding up their work day while others were preparing to start work. They were behaving no different from the day time tourist lovers, like old couples watching the day goes by. But the difference was that, you wouldn't want to see their face or their outfit clearly.

I was a porn star!

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We, a gang of backpackers, went to see a sex show in one of the larger tourist joints. (The red light districts are blocked in Google street view.) Assuming that we were all crazy and uninhibited, three of us got picked onto the stage for the opening performance. We were to eat a banana in turns, half embedded from a female porn star's pussy. It was to stupid to do that when the stage was surrounded by a hundred people, and she didn't turn me on at all. Immediately I ran to the back of the crowd and into something like an exit in the dim light. It was just an locked emergency exit but I thought I was safe.

She didn't lose sight of me and ran straight to me almost naked. She told a bouncer guy to lift me up by his arms and marched me back to the stage with my feet dangling in the air. I was much lighter without the beer belly and love handles back then.

My guys offered me the first bite of the banana, so I did it with my eyes closed. After three bites, the banana was apparently gone. Then she popped the remaining chunk out of her pussy into the air. That was just the opening act.

But that was the end of my porn career.

Where was I?

Once upon a time, I exited at a tube station at the fringe of Central London. I noticed that many business cards were left at the telephone area inside the entrance of the station. That was perfect for a shy and adventurous person. I hardly knew any person but still I was afraid that I would ran into some friends in central London.

When I had the chance I went to the station again, arriving just after dark. I went to the telephone area to make a call, saving the embarrassment of entering a telephone box full of sleazy business cards.

With my head 12 o'clock dead straight ahead, I tried to move my eye balls as far sideways as possible, glancing at any number I could found. The woman who answered the call had a nice young voice, but laughed at me for not knowing where her street was. Most working girls there worked on that street.

Unlike other streets around, this one was completely dead and quiet right after dark. It was a normal side street, very roughly 100, 200 meters long and straight, with just enough space for parking at both sides. I remembered that I have to climb a flight of long stairs. The door was huge like that of a castle, and there was nothing at the door for cover. I was sure that the whole street could see me when I rang the doorbell.

Before that a more than 6-ft tall bobby walked pass me face to face, complete with imposing full winter uniform, helmet, and a cape. He walked slowly as if he was trying to help while I was looking for the right street number. I knew it was a deterrent and sarcasm of sort but I wasn't brave enough to turn back. I turned away from him, walked up the stairs as if nothing happened, pushed the doorbell and prayed that someone please open the door to save me from embarrassment.

On another such rare occasion, possibly at the same station or not, I used the same technique to spot and memorize a number. The place was crowded, and without the privacy of a phone booth, I was going to a quiet street corner to use my mobile. I pretended that the call at the public phone didn't get through, by pressing some buttons repeatedly in frustration. Unfortunately the button was a 9. I hanged up and walked away, but I could still hear that the dispatcher was asking the caller to response. The urgency got higher by the seconds as I was walking away.

ps After touring Soho via Google street view, I concluded that the flats with working girls are in the areas where street views are abruptly blocked off.

What escorts wouldn't wear?

Once upon a time I revisited a London girl only to find that her flat was temporarily rented to a new girl. I knew my favorite uniform was still in the house but this girl tried everything to avoid wearing it. Then I understand that it wasn't fresh from the laundry, and she had no idea of where it had been. I'm not talking about dirty laundry here.

If it was the girls' clothes, they wouldn't want me to ruin it or make it dirty. If it was gift from me, they want to keep the clothes in a pristine condition, and wanted no trauma to associate with it. Not what I'm talking about.

Girls don't wear it because they know it wouldn't fit or it wouldn't look good on them. That's not what I'm talking about.

Other than those reasons above, quality lingerie and quality dress is usually welcomed. I don't know about how much is the resistance to trashy clothes - sex shop lingerie and street walker outfits. It would be fun but I never asked because uniforms I think are less risky of rejection.

After the gas station incident, I asked mrs player to put on an office suit and high heels that night. It turned out that the skirt was much longer that I expected, as you can see in the picture I posted to my plurk. But it didn' t matter because I was all ready to make porn.

She had been filmed totally naked, in lingerie, and uniforms that I brought all the way from Japan. But this time when I rolled up her skirt, all hell broke loose. It was something like that she didn't want to be treated like a hooker.

It was really hell. I was lucky that I could sleep in my own bed that night.

F/S $5.00

The title is what I saw on a sign, held by an underage school girl, in short shorts and small T-shirt. I thought I was seeing ghost early in the morning, but then I realized that it was only a funding raising car wash. Any older they will be in bikinis, which I never tried because what am I going to do after the car wash? Still, they are too young for me to watch their butts wiggling over my car.

I ran out of gas in the middle of a prime office area. For the 1st time I noticed a small gas station. I drove in and this is what I found on the other side of my pump. It was tame for office work, probably found in Macy or M&S, but a little short. Nobody actually wear that here. Too sexy for office, and too formal otherwise.
Her legs were bare like the next picture, exposing her non-native pale legs. When I got to the pump, she was just bending down and froze for a bit, retracting the hose from her dirty mustang.

It was a nice view so I watched her walking into the gas station shop and waited for her to walk back to her car. I didn't notice what shoes she was wearing or anything else, except that she has neck length straight blond hair. If Chanel is still around I would call her up to wait for me in the similar skirt I gave her, complete with matching jacket.

It dawned on me how come Mrs Player recently had a few fuck me heels. She tried them all for me, in bed. But I never had second thoughts about it. She never had the suitable occasion to wear them. And I probably wouldn't allow her to go anywhere by herself, considering my erection and that I couldn't take my eyes off her legs.

She said it was really for me, and that it cost not much more than those from sex shops, or stripper shoes. This is one of my favorite. I prefer sandal types, but the highest one Mrs Player has is about one inch shorter. Any higher than this, the shoes look like folded, and the wearers look like tip toeing.

My naughty key

This is the PO Box key that I got my naughty mail orders. I forgot all about it and now the post master resold the box and I am left with the key. Actually two keys, I left one in a pocket and considered it lost. I paid less than two dollars to get a replacement, before I found the lost one. It's lucky that Mrs Player didn't find it.

I have no rush to replace it. Mrs Player's 4 inch heels are fun to play with for now. In the past, I smuggled a tame but elegant pair of heels hoping Chanel would model it for me. But that day her own pair blown me away, saving me the embarrassment for asking.

Now I'm very certain about the USPS boxes, that they have the full status of a normal address. You can send whatever to the boxes, registered mails requiring signatures and big parcels. If anything goes wrong, the mails will be returned to sender, not forwarded to my verified home address. If I were that certain, I would have ordered a lot of naughty things. I only ordered things that could be explained away if Mrs Player found out, like it was for her to try.

Are we sexual predictors?

I read with interest the article from our friend mel. In this case, she can really ask around, john and hookers alike, instead of guessing based on special cases.

I'm a sexual predictor not any more than those cougars, who hunt in different ways. Metaphorically, I like to dangle cash or a pair of shoes in front of their eyes and see who and what they are willing to do for me.

Some students are just too pretty to do a daily 10 hour shift at minimum wage, and opt for giving two bad massage instead. If they offer extras even with jeans and bullet proof vest on, that means working a few hours per week, instead of a 40 hour week. Of course most prefer to operate as a bank, when clients lineup to deposit into your account.

Serial killers? They are as rare as their name implies. In the extreme case, escorts ask for john's work number and call the company to verify it. Most hookers will not touch those without anything to lose unless they have to. It is the lowest level of prostitutes that are most vulnerable. If you punish the johns like the Swedish model, you are just scaring the better clients with something to lose and force hookers to take more risks.

Will johns take it out on prostitutes after they are pissed by their wives or girl friends? My opinion is that it's no more than having a bad hair day, or pissed by the boss, or pissed by anybody else, and find something therapeutic to relax or let off steam.

There's always the chance of rape or forcing the prostitute to do something unwillingly. But it's impossible in a strip club. Girls will help each other out. Even pimps will take good care of the girls, protect them from unsafe sex and violence. Why? It's their investment, and they don't want any down time.

Even for girls working alone, simple precautions like check up calls from friends and agencies will work fine. Unless for the crazy guys who would beat you up and not afraid to be caught - they have nothing to lose.

Beyond that, it's not easy to get your money worth. Somebody said most clients are easy, meaning that they finish well before time is up, and escorts don't feel any hard work, whether the clients are pissed with their wives or not.

Really it's not easy to perform like porn stars. Probably those guys are sought after rather than feared.

While I'm at it, another non-john-escort blog that I follow is Radical Vixen. It's phone sex that I know little of. There's endless supply of bizarre imaginations, and what really happened at the other end of the phone is often hilarious.

Once I recommended the Happyendingz blog. It turns out that the Happyendingz economic index is rather good! She said that tradesmen are getting work. I didn't follow anything in particular because I didn't want to know how deep my head is below water. And it wasn't as bad as I imagined, but still ...

From estate agents gossips, foreclosures are no big deal. Those negative equity properties are basically written off by the banks and taken into stock. Very few people can bid at auctions no matter how good the deal is, because it's all cash transactions. So normal people have still to borrow from the banks, go through estate agents to get their house. So the banks have some regulating powers on the supply and demand of the market. If you always have spare money, you always have to pick cash, stock or real estate. What would you do? It looks like there are some sales and some listings. At least these houses are being fixed to sale conditions.

I can understand why so many stars choose to end their life. Or in a downward spiral that the end is inevitable. It isn't a big deal when they had it all, and that living in a 3 bed house somewhere till the end isn't a life for them. It's sad to see stars of my generation fell, but the little consolation is that they choose it because they had it all. It's sad for those fallen on this day, but I'll try not to be too sad about the life they would have ahead of them, I'll celebrate the good life they already have.

2001 signifies another downhill trend of America. It had been a walk in the clouds for about a decade for me. On the whole, it wasn't too big a blow. Then things starts to go down hill. But I saw wars, births, deaths, SARS, now a possible pandemic, and of course the financial meltdown. I can take blows one or a few at at time, especially with my adorable sexual punch bags.

My childhood is pretty much like others with parents of working class/small business owners. But we never worry a thing, and that I have my parents to thank. On my own, I also had clouds over my head for years, but I got out of it. Basically I have been very at ease and at peace with myself.

Married a drama queen is another matter. I had no idea of what I was getting into, and I didn't see it coming. If only she went to shop, while I went to work, all would have been perfect. Even at the best of times, she always see that something is not right, demand fixes, ask for something, as if everybody else owe her.

I love some of my old public housing friends. (BTW they have more disposable pocket money and some are rich faster because of the cheap housing.) They appreciate things a lot better. The girl that I had a crush on went to work all summer, didn't get paid because the joint went bust, and she just managed to loot a radio for the only compensation. And she put the radio in the living room to enjoy. I had no chance with her because she started work early, wanted a secure future now and then everything. Her brother told me she had a boy friend with parents doing OK, and he had a decent job and decent car. That's not bad when we were still studying. She would be in heaven if she waited for me. She's probably the ones who do budgeting, financial planing, while I just play computer games at work and at home.

GFE or dolls?

It dawned on me that I have been looking for dolls all along - pleasing to the eyes, choice of positions, choice of accessories, simple buttons to push such as open, spread, or tongue out. Simple sound tracks and implanted programs are sufficient as long as they turns me on.

Sophistication is desirable but there is the possibility of virus, having a mind of it's own. It's only worth taking the risk if you want some better genes to pass along. A financial independent doll is good for your wallet, but you can always go rental, by the hour if necessary.

From my experience, there aren't anything in particular that an escort should look like, but what haunt me most are two beautiful girls. Cute and pretty can only go so far, but stealing your heart is another matter. One beautiful girl is a masseuse, whom I never touched except for a light hug and a perk on the face after every session, months and months of them. The other is Chanel, whom I spent a lot of time inside.

I met an older woman, not older than me type of old, who must be going downhill. But looking at her face, I knew she had a lot of mileage left. My mind was struggling whether to see her again, but when I got there, seeing her in an elegant black lingerie that looked like a body suit, my pant made me very uncomfortable because of my erection. I had been thinking of what I was going to do to her along the way. The black outfit was the last trigger. It didn't help a lot after I dropped my pants. Some skin tissue down there were being pulled harder than usual.

There was another woman who must be in her 30's or more. She is average in all departments but she knew how to take good care of herself, staying in shape. She has an incall location in an upscale apartment complex, with retail spaces for nail, hair and beauty salons. She loves these things and it shows on her. I could have an erection looking at her sitting down answering the phone, wearing a simple dress and healthy sandals. I like her subtlety - zooming in, what she wore were sexier than lingerie and high heels on her.

Now the visuals. The Real Dolls website used to have some pretty pictures a couple of years ago (?). From the current models on offer, I think utility won over artistry. In contrast, there are at least several companies in Japan, specializing in different things. The company who made this doll seems to only care if the lips are beautiful, rather than whether the mouth can be opened wide.

I prefer hair styles that enhance the face and body, rather than distract and distort. As a general rule I prefer straighter, simpler but feminine styles. Long and high volume are sure things. Nothing can beat those ionized volume-less straight hair that hangs like sand in the wind, if you look beautiful in that. But since the style cannot survive overnight, practically you have to live over the hair salon like the woman above, or have plenty of time like Chanel.

I prefer style over color, and that brunette goes well with most skin colors. If blond goes well with you skin tone, red is probably better. Long live the Scots! I don't like color strips and hate visible new hair roots that are not yet dyed the same color as rest of the hairs. But as long as I can pull and shake, I don't mind anything.

That's only for the hair... wait till the toes.

The beginning of the end

When I was young and vulnerable, I read a crappy sci-fi story serialized on a newspaper that uses sex a lot to sell papers. Men become rare commodities because of the environment or new virus - the usual things. Then women invented sex robots for the poor. Then the technology becomes so advanced that nobody wants men anymore. The remaining few men become prostitutes in brothels for the poorest.

I ran into this news that may be the first brothel with live size dolls. They look as nice as the Real Dolls, which I would have brought one if I could find a place to put it without anybody else knowing. I seriously considered to rent a self storage room as my second home, but as with any marriage or unions, I was afraid that it wouldn't work out in the long term because of insurmountable differences, and that I might lost interest after the honey moon.

The dolls from this brothel can moan, made in the images of movie stars and other fantasies. It's charged by the hour.

I would love to try it but it is in China.

I have done some research and it was probably from Japan, a Japanese version of the Real Dolls started at least a couple of years ago. Different from Real Dolls, the Japanese do rentals too. The industry didn't mushroom out of control, because of stigma (in Japan!) and high cost of maintenance. But they are here to stay, and export to China.

This the current trend of shorts here, hookers and house wives alike, school girls are wearing something tamer, but not a lot. Ordinary people like Mrs player wears slippers (and of course something on top of the bra). 4 inch heels are only allowed and encouraged at home. If she goes out like that, it has to be over my dead body, meaning she has to kill my erection first.

She liked to show off like a hooker before she went out. I have been known to call her up and told her to come home early for "the" emergency. She would put on the heels waiting for her, post around the mirrors under my directions, and let me do the quickie on her. No foreplay, but usually a lot longer than "quick".

Abandonment the word now doesn't mean as bad as it seems. It could still be a better solution if you still have someone and something to abandon, rather than seeing through the bitter end. If you have been sleeping with the enemy, of the mental kind, you know. The last post was supposed to show that I'm not as bad as this one seems, but I forget about this. Just a thought, don't worry, too much.

I got some rare chance to deprogram mrs player. She once challenged that japanese porn stars have smaller chest, so I found the biggest pair in a school girl type and we watched together. She imitated the reverse cowgirl move in the movie, in which the melons not only bounded up and down, but goes forward towards the camera, and gyrate up and down, forward and backward in a circle. It's hilarious.

I must have written that prostitution has it's therapeutic values, but I must have left a lot of things out, that I won't bother to check. How can selling sex be illegal? Marriage is to a more or lesser degree. Porn? The law is due to female (mostly) insecurity, that they thinks someday somehow they can't compete with the prostitutes. Imagine that they have to do a slurpy blowjob when their husband come home from work? By wiping out and heavy punishment, their daughters will not even think about it give half the chance?

If you compare prostitution to drug addiction, slavery, you don't punish the addicts, you can't possibly eliminate marajuanna, you don't punish the slaves. To make it hell for the girls already in, to discourage girls that are not even born, that's cruel.

Just ranting when I saw another big burst of "clinics" in local newspapers. The trafficking task force may have found one trafficking victim, while an officer said that the girls are unlikely to be trafficked victims. Incidentally, in the areas they went after, the girls mostly drive MBZs to work. It is those money printing assembly lines that makes those places unsatisfying.

Prostitutes can be better than shrinks in many cases. If you want to tie someone up and beat them, go to a dungeon. The nearest dungeon that I know of from me is 100 miles. I still think the girl lied to me when she said that a handjob is illegal while a footjob is legal there. Otherwise I would be more willing to spank her on the cross. Be what you can be. I heard superheros in costumes is rather popular. Once I wrote a script for a dentist and emailed to my new regular. Though she turned up for the appointment, I should not have picked "dentist", because it sounded so weird and so painful. She was uneasy until I let her off the "dentist" chair. By chance, the suit had an armchair full of gadgets, which scared her more.

Talking to some prostitutes may not be rewarding, but get them to talk about their trouble, yours seem to be insignificant, or theirs are so trivial that they should be happy being a hooker. An hour of massage plus sex after is very relaxing and euphoric. It may not solve some of your problems like shrinks, but no drug can beat the feeling, with only positive side effects.

ps Ban soft drugs because they lead to hard drugs. Should we ban porn too?

What pictures to put in an escort advertisement

Actually I wrote something already, labeled escort 101. Not mentioned there is that there are too many tricks to lure clients to see you, and worry about the consequence later.

So I'm not looking for the prettiest or best pictures in some way. Unconsciously, I'm looking for some truth in the picture that I can count on, being the bottom line.

Like this picture I just saw on my blogroll, this picture can hardly be used to identify any person. Still there are some personal touches that make it not looking like stock porn pictures. I doubt if I can see anything differently if I'm on the spot, maybe the hair a little longer or shorter. But like I said on the other advertisement post, hints with pictures are more powerful than words. If this is really used on an advertisement, I would be very disappointed if the dining room is not open.

How to write an escort advertisement

I spotted a keyword search for the title a couple of times in the past. I think I wrote about where to advertise, but not about what to write. I don't know, but I know what works for me and what not.

Pictures - there's no excuse not to include something. A vague silhouette still tells people what you are about, unless you want everybody to dream up their own images.

Keep the description of your physical description to a minimum, and leave it to the pictures. Hair color is OK as somebody may be using simple keyword search. But there's no point to pick hair color unless the city is spoiled for choice, in that case there will be proper search functions. Height is OK because you can't lie, not for a few inches. Other numbers are quite useless because I don't think you will honestly write down exactly what is on the scale, or your 3 dimensions. Again if you want to flaunt your perfect dimensions, use pictures; the numbers are quite useless in comparison. Adjectives have no effect on me any more.

If you want to be all things to all people, there's not much you can write, without contradicting yourself when all your ads are tracked and compared over time.

The other important things are what you would do. I know it's a difficult area, especially when it's illegal. The big no no is to write a lot of don'ts, unless you only like clients looking for DOM's. Don't write down things that are generally expected. Use creative images may be a good way instead of writing down something awkward. Some girls say more intimate things are at their discretion, which works for me. Personally, I won't be offended if I don't get it. That will be a challenge. The extras aren't supposed be mechanical, routine. And that she will not be a germophile, allergic to any skin contact. If you really like to see an escort regularly, there have to be more intimacy (not necessarily "GFE"), which some girls cannot manage.

If you want to show off your inner beautiful, it have to be a link to your blog. It's useless to drop some adjectives and expensive labels in the ad.

Some code words:
I prefer gentlemen over 40 = I'm over 45
open minded = me haven't got a clue, perhaps a rip-off

I don't think long ad's are useful - I don't remember any ad that are particularly good.

Background information will be useful, where you grow up, where and how long you lived, your previous jobs. It's hard to lie about these, tell a lot about you, if you don't mind disclosing. Favorite songs and movies are probably not important. I don't think anybody will write down Texas Chainsaw, and that I'm not looking for a date, and I probably won't want to see you if you like my fav songs and movies - perhaps it's useful to write it down after all?

If you are picky about your clients, do it carefully if you rely solely on the response to the ad. I don't mind, it's your own pussy, but this may start flame wars. A good way is to ask for a description of the client. The excuse is to be certain to expect the right person at the door, the CCTV or the hotel lobby. A phone conversation gives you the non-visual clues.

Once on the phone I was asked what do I do for a living. One of my response is "I make chips." "Can you afford it?", she asked after hesitated for a sec. I think she is British or European. She thought I mean "I make fries".

If I think of anything else, I probably update. I probably write one for pictures.

Sex, alternative, massage

That's about all the things I wanted but always couldn't decide on. It's not too hard to find a girl who is good on everything, but once she offers sex, it's totally not worthwhile to spend time on massage for example, unless you pay her the same rate (or higher!) whatever she does. It's always better and cheaper to split the work with two different girls. But booking two girls back to back is a nightmare and different providers tend to occupy different areas or cities.

Ideally a call girl should be attractive, available, adorable, affordable and drama free. That's what I spend my money on. Availability means that I don't have to drive far, and she is a local that will not disappear all of a sudden. She will have time for me when I call her, or better still, sitting at home waiting for my calls. But if she wants to charge a lot, it's only fair, though I would be thinking of spending money on big ticket items once a while, timing and distance become not issues. I still didn't now why exactly I dumped a girl, who were all of the above, but tried to stop accepting money. She did brought some drama once, starting to behave like a girl friend. I dumped her immediately and didn't miss her a bit. I didn't know why as she is all that good otherwise. Perhaps we never kissed, and cuddling is a bit routine. No, it's not because of GFE, and I adore girls who treated me not that good. A girl had to take a long phone call, she unbuttoned herself and signed that I can start.

Ideal paid sex is so hard to find (not surprising) so I have been searching over and over. And once you found it and then lost it, it's harder next time. That's why I settled on other things from time to time. But really I constantly fight against anything but sex, because if you don't use it, you will lose it. Getting too much hand job will not help your sex life.

Masseuses do better jobs when they do not provide happy endings. Again it's arithmetic. My number one masseuse pockets $40 per hour plus tips, which is another $10 to $20. Since she doesn't offer anything else, she told me she is happy if she gets two clients a day! That will be way better than a 10 hour shift in MacDonnalds, with all sorts of deductions and taxes. If she has no bookings she can stay at home or go shopping. So she's happy when I booked her, then she will drive a long way to the "clinic". She would put me in the locker room if she can, so nothing will disrupt us, not door bells, phone calls, other clients and masseues. Whatever all hell broke lose outside, I would be half sleeping in heaven for an hour.

Once girls like her start offering happy ending, people will lineup and the only thing to do is to process them like a factory every half hour. The massage part becomes hard labor. But things are not as simple as it's not a market with open information, and it's illegal. When some girls like my masseuse doesn't get two or even one client everyday, they might start to offer a handjob for regulars after the same good massage.

Alternative to sex, including happyendings, become interesting because the girls use all their imagination and all they have got to keep you interested, without offering intercourse. Locally, there are large numbers of girls, who instead of being strippers and hooter girls, worked more privately as masseuses. Once I went into a "clinic" with a spare room for doing homeworks, complete with table, books and stationaries.

Of course there are the sensual massage providers, which are very similar to escorts, including the price, who doesn't go all the way. I met very attractive twenty to thirty-something aspiring actress sort of girls. Very nice but it's not difficult to fight the desire to return. They are anything but cheap, and I didn't want to get rusty on my skills.

One of my favorite is playing dolls. Once I returned to a clinic to get a decent massage, hoping that the owner didn't remember me. They will be broke if every client visit once in 3 months. But she remembered me. She sent me a gorgeous 19 year old sort of girl but put me on half hour without asking. Her massage was pretty bad, or half hearted, unusual for a pretty girl who relied on massage but nothing else. So I asked if she provided extras, and she said yes in a very natural sort of way. She had perfect big natural breasts, with a curvy waist to go with them. She was even tall, ideal height for me sitting on the massage table playing with her twins. She was even pretty, not intense without makeup that sort of beauty, but pretty doll sort of way. She would stood still, let me roll up her vest, pull down her bra, and do whatever I wanted, as long as I wished, until I put her hand on my dick. I kept fighting myself not to return just to suck her breasts and a handjob, but failed for a couple of months.

There are more unexpected fun before the rules are tightened. (And when the massage rules are really tight, it's easier to find sex.) Girls may entice you until you beg for a handjob, parting with whatever reasonable tips they ask for. There are times when I decided not to give in no matter what. But that was the time when I got perhaps the best handjob. She got me into a huge erection without doing anything illegal, and then finished me off without asking. I never drove near that place for a while, for fearing that I would prefer a handjob to sex.

The other time I met a masseuse by chance, who went to work in a brilliant white lab coat covering her knees. Inside she wore very sexy clothes, even a cheer leader uniform. She was more like 29 than 19, but similarly shaped, that I would prefer any day. I thought it was a sure thing when she rubbed all the right places without being illegal. But then I found out that she wouldn't cross the line. That's how the place was setup. I couldn't touch her and she wouldn't touch me at the critical places. What can I do? She wanted me to masturbate without saying it. And so I did, with all the encouragements that she could offer. I wasn't that afraid of her and wasn't that afraid that I would love masturbation too much, I returned a few times to see if she would be more flexible, vowing not to give in to her demands. She didn't make any concessions, as it's not her call but the owner, but still I ...

One of the disappointing moments was when I wanted to get laid while my friend was on that part of her cycles. It wasn't the best of times and best day of the week. You know you will very likely be still wasting money after doing a lot of rush homework on the net, until you lost the appetite. So I went to a place I've been before hoping for a sure thing, while still saving the sex for my friend later in the week. The masseuse was disappointing, totally not the doll type. Her massage wasn't that good either. Even worse, I didn't manage to touch her in a gentleman sort of way, and she wouldn't massage anywhere near my dick. I knew it was hard luck. But I thought long and hard: "Is this woman I would flag down on the road and expose myself to for the weird fun of it?. Would I pick her up in the mall and ask if she would watch me playing with myself?". The imagination worked for me. I hinted to touch myself, and when she saw what my hands was going, she nodded in an understanding sort of way.

Usually girls look away, look at something else even when they are facing it. They will continue massaging the other sensitive parts to help along. A weird thought in my mind was asking her to actually watch me. But when my hand started to warm up, she disappeared into the back of my head, sat down and kept massaging my shoulders. That's perhaps the only time I finished anything ever, without looking at a woman.

I'm on Gawker

Just a tiny link:
http://gawker.com/5302039/things-to-do-in-buenos-aires-without-your-wife

Two favorite parts

I was kneeling beside her on the bed to give her a massage, though I would prefer sitting right on top of her butt next time. I went all the way down her legs, until I spread my legs and sat down at the end of her body, with my private part barely touching her toes.

I bent her lower legs upwards for a foot massage. You don't really want an aspiring actress who is waiting tables, no matter how great her legs and other parts are. Standing for hours a day really shows on your feet. Her feet is smooth, on the small side, she with nice legs and delicate looking ankles.

I was giving her a great feet massage, but at the same time I was like holding a toy, a live one. Her feet are clean but I just gave her a few slight wet kisses here and there when I couldn't resist. Perhaps I didn't want to scare her away, or perhaps I am shy. While I was massaging one foot, the other would be relaxing in bed, touching my erection. When I finished the massage, I had two toys to please myself.

I don't know about you, but even with lots of lubrication, foot jobs hurt, and it really wasn't designed for that. But I had strong reactions when my private part gently touched her pretty feet. Since she was relaxed and not complaining, I rubbed her feet hard against my G-spot, somewhere hard below by balls, while playing with her other feet against my private part.

I rubbed harder and harder, lower and lower, until I realized what the feeling was. Then I guided her big toes gently lower down, until it "accidentally" touched my ass. She wasn't bothered a bit. So I played with her feet like a dildo, while using the other feet like a bath sponge cleaning my dick.

I don't mind insertion, but only with fingers. Once a well known local playmate wanted to insert a huge dildo into my ass. She failed miserably, but told me to come back, after practicing with squash! I didn't see her again, but not because of that.

It wasn't something I did or thought of before. I enjoyed it for some minutes and then ended the hour in a more conventional way. I didn't recall watching any porn like it. Though I would prefer girl-girl action, amen, one torturing the other with her big toes.

Happy ending

I sat high on a chiropractor's examination table, I suppose, fully naked, with an erection pointing to the sky, dangling my feet in the air like a kid waiting impatiently at an doctor's office on an adult's chair. But I was calm and patient in a quiet huge room, which was probably converted from the waiting area and office area of a clinic. They need no staff and don' t allow waiting patents here.

It's just a large massage table, but not made from wood, with tasteful metal beams supporting a very thick and sturdy "mattress", a lot like a hospital bed with a lot of fancy gadgets possibly hidden.

Then my "surgeon" walked in gracefully in a full set of real hospital scrub. She's mature in her early 30's, one of those who couldn't get fat, and way passed her skinny teen years, who looks good in her uniform. She wasn't outstanding but I was very fond of her at the end. I only tried her because the one I was seeing quited.

I smiled at her, this time a little wicked, because I was plotting something. I saw her a couple of times and we got comfortable with each other. She knew something was up, trying not to come near me without asking me to lay down first. But I stayed up, so did my penis. When she was within grabbing distance, I held her arms gently and pulled her to stand between my legs.

I crossed my legs gently around her at her waist, and put my arms gently around her back, so she couldn't possibly escape without decisive actions. She could move freely but cannot walk away easily. Then I started kissing her cheek. Next I kissed her tenderly on her lips. She resisted a little, but then responded like a date, which surprised me.

She could say "I don't do that". She was in demand so she didn't need to offer anything extra. This is one of the rare full services places with a difference. She could handle me by giving me a sealed lip type of kiss. Of if she didn't care about it, she could just switch into mechanical mode and let me had what I wanted. But she responded to tenderness, we making out like fresh dates. I probed a little with my tongue and hers responded in kind. I didn't turn into vacuum mode and insert my whole tongue into her mouth. It was one of those moments that you didn't want to spoil.

I didn't know that she could be that cute. That's why I didn't thought of kissing her until that day, nor kissing is usually on my mind. When kissing is included, it may not be mechanical, but often too routine and trying too hard. I like spontaneous on my part. I like the irresistible urge to kiss, and sometimes they know it and it works wonders. But sometimes the spontaneous response is yuk, oh no, here comes the gems, which aren't worth carrying on, but all don't really matter. Sometimes it feels like a service. Other times it feels like ordinary people.

If I really want to kiss somebody premeditated, I would call my professional girl friend. She knows what she is getting into. She knows that she is irresistible, meaning there is no other realistic choice at hand. She changed from "not on my cheek" to DFK, DJK. She is very cooperative, and very encouraging, with back caressing and all that. But she made sure that she didn't show that she enjoyed any of it. Once she started taking back for giving away too much. The next time she called me I said I have to kiss her for 10 minutes. She replied childishly that no other girls will be willing to promise that. But I didn't think I would like to kiss anyone for 10 minutes. It's not that she's irresplacable, but it takes time and by chance.

Between and during kisses, I did what I had been doing to her every time, slipped my hands under her loose scrub, in which she wasn't wearing anything but a black throng. That was a type of fantasy, and she would only take the whole outfit off when I told her to.

Then we made love on the massage table, which wasn't a massage table so we both could barely get on it and be comfortable.

She is rare because her massage was as good as anybody else. Her loving making is an extension of that. It was always slow motion, that any massage should be. Can't I call it slowpoke? This place in particular was always on high alert because their neighbors in the medical plaza didn't like them. But she wasn't infected by the nervousness. She would stay naked on the table as long as I needed. She would stop her massage any time you desired, and then carry on from there when she cleaned you up after sex. She never cheated on the clock.

This place has no competition, in a medical plaza close to home, clinically clean, great massage skills, goes all the way. The girl who left earlier was better in massage, younger, prettier and has an all natural body that beats enhancements. They are their own worse enemy because neighbors don't like them, even though they tried to keep very low profile and limits the foot traffic. Nobody dare to go full service or even happy ending in such areas.

Other services like escorts are surprisingly few, overpriced, and lack of choice, because they don't want to be busted here. The other options are to drive long distance, make advance bookings.

Everybody loves a good massage, which isn't cheap. Many escorts can do decent or even good massages, but it doesn't make economical sense unless they charge the full price for both. The price there is a pretty good bargain. I like sex more. In an ideal world you make two appointments back to back, with an masseuse and a call girl, that I have done enough. But it's logistics, and well, money. So you settle with just some happy ending, and save the time and money for another day.

I think the first girl thought I was not typical clients who are overweight, back not aged well, have money to spare. I must be there because I must be as bad as overweight, couldn't get laid and didn't have enough money for escorts. And so I didn't know she did full service. So every time it was a great massage followed by costume fantasy and ended with a happy one. Finally, we played so close to full sex that prompted me to ask her. She started a little high and was surprised that I took the offer without bargain. Just when I though it was the start of a beautiful relationship, that was the last time I saw her. I doubt if she did much full service. It was her grab the money and ran mode. I let her got away easily on the massage table, because I though I could more than get it back next time, paying good money for it.

That was the same with the 2nd girl. After I kissed her the first time, the place was closed. I could remember the "what the hack" look in her eyes when I tried to kiss her. She knew it was the last time and she couldn't get into trouble one way or the other. She let her guard down and looked like she enjoyed it, or so I hoped. Once she kissed like that she could have troubles. If she didn't, I wouldn't expect anything. If she couldn't keep it up I would easily be disappointed or offended. I could have developed other ideas. Also, imagine if I kissed and told, writing a review on her? Everybody would demand GFE, how miserable for her, I imagine.

One of the blogs I like is Happyendingz. Relatively speaking I don' t know that much about what's happening inside a massage parlor in other places, so I like to find out. And the local variety is endless. Here my gardener and a CEO didn't look much different when they are off duty. You can't tell if a girl is a rich housewife, a locally born and bread college student, or an erotic masseuse. My scrub girls could be on ER and you couldn't tell, that they are not real nurses.

The enchanted fuck

With her pussy slightly overhanging the bed, limbs spreading like a resting moth, I shoved my penis into her vagina, trying to reach the deepest part where no men of my size had ever reached before, one stroke at a time, with all the time in the world in between.

As I got deeper between her legs, I could bend a little forward to take a good look at her face, starting from her eyes. But she looked right back at me. Immediately I wasn't looking at her eyes, but into her eyes. Our eyes locked, so seemed the electromagnetic field around us, with no possibility of escape for the light wave bouncing between our lens.

She wasn't smiling. I never saw her smiling but there was nothing sad about her. She wasn't pretending anything as she is a no-nonsense girl. She just looked right back into my eyes. I didn't think she was thinking about anything special. Neither did I. My deep penetrating movement became robotic. I didn't see anything. Perhaps we were looking into each other's soul, which were blank at the moment. The dim room light was very atmospheric. She never thought of the need to turn off or tone down the light.

It could have been the best encouragement I ever had. I was very willing to give it all to her without enjoying any other position. But my consciousness came back when I remembered her ass like this. I pulled out and made a circle with my index finger.

Betty was eager to please without smiling. She turned over into a doggy position, keeping her pussy slightly overhanging the bed, so I could stood where I was. Betty even had better skin than Ariel. I knew I couldn't hold it for long, so I rushed her into the sky diving position by pushing her a little while pulling her legs. But I was a little surprised that she resisted.

I could have done many things but I was hooked to her eyes. So I pulled her back to the overhanging moth position precisely, like putting a baby right on top of her diaper. I got more addicted as time went on, penetrating her pussy and soul at the same time. I moved back and forth faster and faster while our eyes were absolutely locked.

I was very willing to end it that way. But she was so wonderful that I couldn't resist to touch and feel her more. Kissing wasn't included so I kissed her cheek, a very wet one, but I was careful not to overdo it, because I was afraid that she would give me the what-the-fuck stare, instead of the enchanted stare. Then I stacked on top of her, pressed my chest hard against her big boobs as I penetrated her, and pressed my cheek hard against hers. I was expecting rejection but she didn't push. I did hear a few heavy breath, but probably she couldn't control her excitement. XD. Next, I flooded her. But I wasn't stopping. I continued until I squeezed the last drop into the condom, still pressing hard against her chest and cheek. I was totally enchanted.

At a little distance away, Betty looked like a tall American school girl. She had a neck length straight dangling blob. Her causal top was a cross between a T-shirt and a vest. And she wore a causal short or hot pants. At close up, there is nothing school girl about her. She is a fully grown woman with big breast and big ass, which did not need any support! Her outfit was causal, fit but nowhere near tight. Her short was probably rectangular, but her full ass made it looked like a pentagon. She stood beautifully on a pair of long full legs and a pair of undersized causal flop-flips.

When I first see an escort's face, usually it's a sign of relieve, that she didn't show her face pictures not because she wasn't attractive. In a split second I can tell that I can and want to do her for the asking price. Or I can tell that her face looked OK and I should concentrate on her gorgeous body. Or that her face is sweet, or full of character fit to be a model. But deep down, or superficially, I want a beautiful face, more specifically a doll like face, perfectly shaped, with perfect features, so perfect that you don't remember a thing about her, as all dolls are alike.

I can't tell you what Betty looked like, except that her hair is thin and short, hiding nothing. For that she can be a mannequin. The shape of her face is flawless to the degree of forgettable, which can launch very spectacular features. Similarly, I couldn't tell you about her nose and mouth, even though I watched her blowing and sucking me for a few minutes, except that there are absolutely nothing wrong about them.

Her face was perfectly cleansed, void of any makeup. Though it looked like she went for the naked look that used a lot of expensive makeup to look like having no makeup at all. I could tell because I could see a hint of black eye cycle. Or perhaps she needed very little help to achieve the naked look. I could tell she has large deep piercing eyes.

It wasn't a good start. For me it was a last minute thing. Obviously she wasn't expecting any VIP by her causal outfit and makeover, or the lack of it. I was overjoyed when I saw her. I think she had the same feeling because she immediately tried to up sell. It wasn't bad because she knew she looked like a rip-off, drama queen, and that sort of thing. The last thing she wanted was for me to think lesser of her. By the way, her accent must be somewhere American but I could hear every word that she said, even when talking to herself. I have trouble hearing what my kids say, which is not their fault, because most schools in the area are so-called distinguished.

I wasn't expecting a hearty meal but my experience tell me not to disappoint them. I let her up-sell a little that immediately put me in the upper echelon of her clients, if only for once, on the condition that I would decide after checking the goods. She understood when I just sat there staring at her boobs. She started a strip tease but kept the dancing to a barely recognizable minimum. Since she mentioned she was not local, but from Vegas, I still think she was a slightly out of shape stripper.

She had nothing on under her causal outfit. Her large boobs are actually enhanced, but looked very natural because a lot of them was her own. Not brand new, but no support needed, neither did her big ass. She had a delicious waist line, and the only out of shape part was her tummy, which was not flat, but not a lot different from those of healthy eating school girls. I smiled because I was genuinely happy, told her that she got the deal, embraced her big ass, and then buried my face into her chest.

Before we started, she went to the bathroom. I didn't know what came over me. For the first time in my life I followed her. Before I got to the door of the bathroom I asked politely like a gentleman, "Can I watch?". Wasn't she enchanting? Maybe she was taken by surprise, I didn't hear a reply. Then I was at a position where I could see her sitting on the toilet at a distance. She just looked at me. Without my glasses I didn't know her reaction, but I could imagine that it was the what-the-fuck stare. I retreated, since I was too shy to talk about it again.

When I finished squeezing, sucking and licking her breasts and bottom to my heart's desire, I laid down for the blow job. She did it with her back against me. I turned a few degrees on the bed sheet and she knew I wanted to watch. She hesitated momentarily and then went on to give me a very sexy blow job. My heart lifted and sank with the movement of her lips slowing going up and down my shaft. It lasted for a few minutes, possibly could last forever because my blood was in the wrong place - my head - appreciating her talent. Then she turned her back against me again, continued to give me a more nasty type of blow job to get me ready.

So I think she is still young and full of attitude given half the chance. But she is old enough to handle herself beautifully. I would put her in the 20 something to late 20's category. Any older, a woman would put a spell on a man very differently.

When I was spreading her like a moth (or butterfly as some would say), ideally I needed a gynecologist's examination table. She was a bit lost where to put her legs. Some girls rest their feet on my side, clamping on the top of my pelvis. But she was too big and her legs too long for that. She tried to put it on my shoulders, which is one of the perfectly acceptable position. That's when I discovered that she had long straight toes, professional pedicure with a delicious orange color! Her toe nails were short and neat, as if she need to wear stripper shoes and dance. Here the only places that do not allow sandals (and over sized nails) are some schools.

There were a little dirt on her soles, so I couldn't do anything without bringing her to the bathroom, if she would agree, and not to up sell more. Since we started nicely for a while, and I was in a very comfortable position, very reluctantly I gave up her toes, and put her legs back into mid-air, where they should be, unless I chose to get a gynecologist's table or rent a gynecologist's office.

When I was all done, since I was standing up throughout, and she was blocking the bed, I went straight to the bathroom for a quick rinse. When I came back, she laid naked in the middle of the bed. I had to squeeze in without touching or disrupting her. I asked her permission for a cigarette and she wouldn't mind.

It wasn't happening to me! Soon she started a tiny slight circular motion with the tip of her index finger, on her clitoris ! I didn't know what to make of it but it was safe to assume that if I want more I would have to pay more. Di
d she think that I am still a 20 something young stud? At my age I prefer quality instead of quantity. And at the time I was a very happy, satisfied man. But if she really wanted sex but nothing else, I would be happy to give my best. So I just sat and savored my cigarette, and then another one, watching her next moves.

At the middle of my 2nd cigarette, she gave up touching herself and went into the bathroom. The strange thing was, after a minute or two, she called me from the bathroom. I was expecting to help her find the towels, the soaps or the shower caps. But she said never mind when I got there.

I didn't have 2nd thoughts then because my mind was blank and blood wasn't there. When I returned to normal life, my imagination ran wild. She really wanted sex. Being shy and afraid of rejection, she went into the bathroom to get off by herself. When she was excited she couldn't resist to call me to help her. But when I got there it was too late. Or, enough time had passed that she collected enough golden shower to deliver. She wanted to rouse me or she wanted to show me that she is very open minded for next time. When I got there she changed her mind, have nothing to deliver after all, or just blocked due to anxiety.

She was very pleased when I asked her private number. She wasn't sure when I did nothing while she touched herself. She asked for my phone to enter the digits herself. She asked where to put the digits, if I mind calling herself so the number would be left on the out calling list. She entered my name on her phone, and would do the same for me if I let her. I assured her that she and her number would be safely remembered in my phone.

The sad thing was, she had no plan to settle in my fair city. She asked me if I would travel around to neighboring cities. Not likely, but for her I probably would.

I thought of calling her all the time, I am addicted to the eye-to-eye fuck, and couldn't forget her ass, possibly good enough to rim, her unexplored toes and the enchanting orange pedicure. But I didn't want to be disappointed. The chance of her visiting my city when I called was slim, and that I didn't have all day to track her down.

Also, I doubt if the magic moments will return that easily. It wouldn't work if she warms up to me and smiles. It wouldn't work if she enjoyed herself too much. When she stared at me, I would easily have burst out laughing if I thought of myself as being in a porn movie of the Japanese kind, where the male actors are at times terribly ugly.

I missed a call from her about a week later. I couldn't have managed to see her anyway. I called her after another week. I couldn't get through to her. Lucky that I wasn't looking for a virtual (shared) sugar baby replacement, for which she would be perfect, if I can afford it.

That's life.

Is it possible to get serious with a call girl?

I never thought it was possible to have a call girl as a serious girlfriend. But then once upon a time, did you think that only virgins will do? Now that I'm completely over her, I think it's very possible with the one who used to be my professional (paid) girl friend. It's possible but it doesn't mean that I can do it. This is a personal experience that doesn't represent anything.

I never thought about that when I was seeing her regularly, and mostly her. She said she only had a few regulars and it seemed true. May be I thought about it momentarily, but since I never thought that she would think about it, I didn't register any of it. I don't think she thought about it. Maybe she did, but since she knew I wouldn't give up my status quo for her, she wouldn't think too much about it.

Maybe both of us have a lot to lose, so it didn't seem possible, so we can relax about it, without worrying that the other got the wrong ideas. We also told each other things such as how lune Mrs Player is and how she didn't want to marry her rich boyfriend.

A current call girl is out of the question. I don't think I can stand it yet, unless I need a lot of financial assistance to keep my lifestyle. I can possibly get over what an ex-call girl went through.

I'm attracted to her, never failed to get hard, never hesitated to deep French/Japanese kiss her when she was up for it, and on a good day I had lots of sperms to show for it. I can't say how beautiful she is, but it's a joy to stare at her face while doing the missionary, and to watch her blowing me. Otherwise she isn't a model material, but has good genes, and everything is nice to look at.

I was with her through thick and thin, really. She was school girl thin, photogenic with bikini on when I first met her. When she was low, I met her once when her hair was pink, once her lips were dry with almost flaking skin. Once I called her out when she had been closing her room door, smoking cigarette and talking with her friends for hours if not overnight, her hair in a mess full of cigarette odor. Once her big toe nail was broken. Once her skin was so badly taken care of that she needed to see the doctor, while I knew it was only caused by prolonged dryness on delicate skin - I got the same problems.

She got fatter when she was on the pill, though I found out the reason much later. She once resorted to wearing all black coming to the motel. But I found it rather sexy like a sexy housewife with some meat. When we first met, she always liked to walk around naked, or I should say she didn't try her best to hide her naked body. After sex, she would walk to the bathroom and walk back naked, or even chat with me sitting naked. But when she was fat, she deliberately stood in front of me and changed slowly, wanting to get my comment on her body. She knew she was fat.

Her body wasn't terrible then, but everything seemed to be going hill, and I thought it would be the end of our relationship. She wasn't that good to me, perhaps not to give me wrong ideas, and then what would I be paying for? Her delicate skin looked like a woman's face cleared of makeup. Unlike girls who never use makeup, you can see tiny flaws here and there. Her well shaped, bigger boobs looked like they swelled a little, but not drooping yet, and her nipple a little blurred. She wasn't thick but her killer waist was gone. She wear medium skirts on occasions, so I thought she has nice legs, until one day, I didn't remember when, she agreed to put on a school uniform. Her tights were thicker than I thought. Another time I watched her silhouette when she was making motel coffee for me naked standing up. Her messy hair and lose muscle tone terrified me for a second.

All those didn't stop me from calling her, well, a lot of times she called me. Changing the angle and she would look a lot better. If I stopped seeing her, it would be that I feel unfair for the money I gave her, that I could have better. And also I wouldn't want to watch her going downhill all the way, feeling sorry for her.

But then she got back in shape, just by staying off the pill I think. She got back in shape that was unmistakably unmarried without children. Her hair and skin became perfect again, added with perfectly done nails. Sometimes she wore clothes and makeups like she was thirty something, when in fact she was 10 years younger. That was pretty hot and I wondered who she was going to see next. The last time I saw her she was school girl thin, wearing teenage uniform with trendy T-shirt, jeans, and perfectly matched pink manicure and pedicure. OMG.

I wasn't attracted to her because she is young. Otherwise I could prefer a mail order bride. Indeed I wish she was a lot older, same attractiveness of course. One reason I am attracted to her because her looks would last very long. I knew a number of women that could fight off teenagers at 40 something, and would be attractive well into their 50's. Mostly they are not call girls, otherwise they will be to expensive for me to see. She is the next generation, so I would predict her self life would be approaching 60 or more, and at the time I would have nothing to worry about.

She started to take calls most likely because she couldn't resist the temptation of money and life style, she was naive, and many of her peers do it. It could be more complicated but nothing new. Later it doesn't matter that much once you started. Instead of marrying her boyfriend, she tried to delay, taking calls when she needed money for her independence. Since she lived with her mother, a few calls from her regulars would help her through the month with decent pocket money to spend.

The morality may be hard to swallow but there are worse things, desperate cheating wives, lune civilians and mail order brides that you know nothing about.

She did play fair. If she is going to marry, she will marry, have kids, and that will be it. If she played games, she could get away with a mil or a few more just by getting married and then quit. Though her boyfriend may ask her to sign something at the last minute, but she never thought of that sort of thing.

If she played dirty, she could have gotten a lot more money from me. She never asked me to go shopping with her, which I couldn't have resisted. She played fair, and wanted no trouble from clients.

To me she remained carefully on a professional level, but would be nice to me given enough compensation. She can make me happy, other than sex and looks. We had spent several hours in bed, and also hours in restaurants, while I totally lost track of time, as if only one hour had passed.

I can't tell you her feelings for me, if any. I only know that her requirements aren't that stringent. Yes, she wanted a rich husband, but her boyfriend isn't that rich, having a nice car, a nice house, and a secure future. But still you can easily lose everything no matter what. Life is a trade-off, and perhaps she would settle for less cash, more talent, and someone she can talk to - that seemed to be the only thing that's important to her other than money.

Well we talked. We talked about cheating. She even asked me my advise on the fact that she didn't want to marry so young and have kids. If I can overlook her past certainly we would have much more to talk about. But it was like when we talked too much, we regretted it afterward for crossing the line. We, at least I, refrained from asking some questions even though I wanted to know very much, and when we ventured into something different, we kept it short, casual and shallow, all in the name of a professional relationship.

Some call girls want toy boy or even male model types for boyfriend and even husbands , but not her. Perhaps money is so much more important. Perhaps she became insensitive to looks. It's true that better looking people do better but at the top are disproportionally full of the shorties and the uglies. These guys had all the incentive in the world to do well.

I'm not bad myself. I probably looked younger than her boyfriend, who is much younger than me. I had hair, legs and until recently, killer waist. And everything works :-). When we all grown up, my childhood schoolmates still blamed the thief for stealing our first (and last) guitars while taking our first lessons. We never bother to ask our mothers money to replace them. They are sure that if I learned to play, I'll sing and I will have groupies and they will have the surplus.

Good times, when she was a phone call away.

The fail spy

Suddenly I decided to spy on Mrs Player. With triangulation, I found out where she was. (Actually the triangulation was only mentally performed.) I went to the nearest shop to get a bug. (It was a sensitive voice recorder.) I would like to get a GPS too, but no shop stocks cheap data loggers, which have to be shipped.

I found her car and planted the bug. To my surprise the vanity mirror was out and the light was still on. When I left I had to close the light and the mirror, because somebody was in the next car. I couldn't leave any light on to attract attention to me. I wouldn't know if that blew my cover.

I came back later to stalk her. Nothing happened. I was sure that I would beat her on the way home with time to spare, otherwise I would have lots of explaining to do. Surprisingly I failed miserably, even though I tried hard. I had the fast car. Later I found out that even though I took the road with virtually no traffic lights, at night her straight forward route had all green lights. The shorter distance route won.

The other time I caught her driving somebody to somewhere. I tailed her in the cover of darkness. It was disappointing, as she just dropped that person off home. But maybe she knew I was behind her and changed her plan on the fly.

I continued to follow her but she was driving like a pro spy. I lost her, didn't know whether she turned left or right. Just when I was flipping a mental coin, she zoomed past right in front of me like a victory lap. I followed more closely, now that I might have been discovered. Then she was doing frequent U-turns and I was caught face to face with her, though she didn't look my way. To avoid detection, possibly again, I had to drive at other lanes, missing the immediate U-turns. I lost her again. Only by illegal driving speed going straight, I was lucky to find her again. There were few other cars on the road, otherwise I wouldn't have recognized her car from afar.

She kept doing U-turns like a very pro spy to avoid any tailing. I didn't care and followed her at short distance. I felt so humiliated, but at least I couldn't be so fail as to lose her completely. She then drove home, maybe because I wouldn't let go of her. Instead of racing with her again, I went out to release some tension and frustration.

Later it dawned on me that the simplest explanation is the best - she was completely lost. She didn't see me or recognized my car in the dark.

Escort-tech vs John-tech

I gave many chances for Mrs Player to confess and apologize. She became very domestic, even soft spoken, but wouldn't talk about it. Then I formally demanded an explanation. She went silence, applied the blank-stare-on-the-floor tech. Never did she know I can spot that familiar tech a mile away. Did you remember Professional Liar? Rule number one - don't explain the unexplainable. Rule number two - rule number one applies.

I slept on the couch at my own choice. When I had morning wood, I thought of her. I went up, stripped her, encountered no resistance, fingered her a bit, and then entered at the spoons position. Just when she thought everything will be back to normal, I lifted her butt, and did a doggy on her.

Apparently I was too rough on her, she having to raise one hand at her back trying to reach me, begging for mercy. Yeah right. For delicate dolls, it would be a good gesture. Usually I would do some romantic hand holding, doing each thrust carefully so as not to hurt, but just as deep because I know it's getting effective. Even though I know they just want to arrive at the next client's place perfectly - body and spirit - I will honor their wish because the illusion is there. After all, you can't push too much for a three legged doggy, or the whole thing collapses.

But for Mrs Player I used her arm to lock her in position - for the three legged doggy. (Save you googling, can't get any reference to sex positions.) When I was almost done I released my full body weight on her. Having only three legs in position, she collapsed into the sky diving position. I came.

That was not over. I rolled-over! Then I had a beauty sleep in the comfort of my own bed. I could feel her fuming over at my back.

What does a porn star do when not making movies?

Doing a much better job than George Bush:

Doll House

Somebody said it's a statement on prostitution. I would say further it's shameless promotion of prostitution. The beauty of it is that even though the subject is so obvious, even I tended to overlook it, taking things in without realizing that it's all about prostitution.

In the first few episodes, very little of the hired roles involved sex. How many anti-prostitution people were drawn in and followed the serious? How many who never thought too much about prostitution became philosophical about it after several episodes?

Even the initial episodes not about prostitution were making statements. Is a professional assassin deserve any more glamorization than a prostitute? It's OK to glamorize assassins because not many people are willing and able? Is your job any better? Apart from trafficked victims and the desperate hookers, prostitutes have more choices than you think. In the beginning I was hung up on many times because I didn't pass their screening, saying the wrong things. Others wanted employment verification comparable to credit card application procedures. I have little choice about my clients as long as my boss is pleased, just like, well, Echo.

Once Mrs Player commented that Echo's outfit was odd, but obvious it was interesting to her enough that she watched from the middle of the episode. Then it dawned on me what it was. That outfit must be what her client ordered, for a very expensive S&M section with costume. That scene lasted for a few seconds so I almost forgot about it, but I instantly knew that it was a work costume for prostitution. At first glance her outfit looked like coming from a Laura & Ashley spring floral collection, complete with a very virginal cardigan. But the dress was very short, just long enough to go places and shoot action movies without exposing her panties just by walking around. Then there was the thigh high socks, well made with fancy floral patterns that looked like hand-knitted. There must be high heels too, but too demure for me to notice, and also because her feet were covered.

I have to applaud the choice of that outfit for national TV. I like Leg Avenues for sure but if I have money I probably will order that sort of outfit. It works on me all the same but classy girls will be more willing to wear that. Mrs Player refuses school uniform most of the time but she will love to try that outfit on, and go around town too.

It's very good education for the public - Echo has no choice about her work, the madam, the pimps/handlers are all there.