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.

Escort agencies

I came across a post about agencies. I remembered that I haven't rant about agencies much. It's time. We don't have decent agencies here, but I used agencies in many places, several continents in fact, and often as locals.

Clients sure like to give advices. If they like you, given half the chance, they want to tell you how to make more money, who to see and what to do, if only to get some brownie points. Except for the well off - they will try to increase their share of you instead of sharing you more. Many sex workers are free agents in the sense that they never listen to anybody since they were born. Others regard any advice from clients as trying to take advantage of them, and quite rightly so. How do I know? Clients call, not a booking, just talking. Girl put phone on speaker and do whatever she had been doing with me. Client gave advice. Client finished. Girl paused, picked up the phone, said thank you and asked when would they meet again. Call ended. Normal activities resumed.

Agencies must at least fill the role of real estate agents. It's useless if you listen to anybody not in your working city. Everything is different even between a big city and it's close suburbs.

Good real estate agents set a fair price based on knowledge on the local market, and the house! Others are more like booking agents who works for you, handling phone calls and appointments. It's unusual for agencies to have more than one or two price brackets, otherwise it's just a listing or booking service.

On the other hand, agencies or not, many will talk you into taking the "going rate". It make economic sense for them, charging a fixed fee or a percentage. If you are good and you are popular, you will get many calls. They are getting the same or more from you anyway, than if you charge more.

Looking at the pictures of other escorts, some girls think that they are not as good and are happy on the same team. It would be funny if they actually meet other girls in person. Me too had a high expectation of escorts at the beginning. Clients with good disposable income, who are good catches, would want better catches, right? But that's economics. Good catches come with a good price too. If you are not on your birthday bash or bachelor party, depending on locations, you are often happy with average attractive persons as seen on the streets, to carry out your fantasies. Though a makeover can work magics.

It's true if you think you are better than the rest, charging more, the demand is very elastic. On the other hand, if you double what the high end going rate is, there are bound to be takers - I'm a happy client but I'm tempted by twice as happy. But if the rate is baseless, you may go down with the whole agency.

Traditional agencies are supposed to look after the girls. Girls call after meeting with the client to say where she is, and call after leaving the client, to say that everything is OK. Jamie thought so too, but the agent must have hanged up everything and went home. She was new, just happened to end up in the agents book somehow, and I called randomly until someone replied at some odd hours (only 10pm!). She ended up secretly calling her bi-sexual boyfriend, who often left her home alone. I supposed this is her story to say that she has someone looking after her, but not to make clients too jealous. He made some walkie talkie sounds typical of London beat cops outside the 'historial' building. Her flat is at the mezzanine level so I could hear that and almost jumped. She is the tall delicate teen model type who can wrap her legs around you without dragging you down, and you can throw her around on top of furniture and kitchen sinks.

Other agencies are controlling, as if they own you. They are not happy if you don't pick up the phone when you are supposed to be available. They even check the traveling time down to a minute. I called for the same girl the second time in a week. We were so happy to see each other, we somehow ended up immediately on the bed, me carrying her from the door, I didn't remember clearly. Our limbs were crossed together, fully clothed, me groping and stripping her a little. The problem was, she somehow forgot to call her agent, 15 minutes late. It was a big deal. She invented something that was more believable, but still that was lame. At the end she encouraged me to see any other girls from the agency next time, to get her off the hook I suppose. She said it would be nice and it was better.

I always think it's a good thing to offer your clients or escorts a custom package deal. It's not so much as to cut off the middleman, but if you are just another customer, you get just the average package. Sometimes girls will offer you their private number or ask for yours. Other times you can call privately to check if they are available, but still you have to make immediate appointments through her agency, at least for a while. Funny that some girls treat me as agency spies, trying to catch them stealing from the agency. Some agencies prevent client stealing by treating me as if their most loyal customer, talking to me as if their buddies or brothers. It would be hard for any girls to make a move, or for me to make a move.

Our "friend" Mel has a blog . Comments are moderated but she is reasonable in publishing them.

The love knot

Statistically speaking, I should have a high sperm count. When I come out of a time consuming project and realize that I miss sex, the semen volume can be rather high. A girl felt a little unease right after I cum. She didn't push me and stayed in my arms, but I felt there was something on her mind. When I pulled out, she made me do it carefully and guided me all the way out, somehow when under pressure the semen started overflowing out of it.

When I didn't see Chanel as often as she wanted, she would check the condom every time. She wouldn't say a word if there was little in it. She knew I was seeing other girls. If that continues, her income contribution from me would be unreliable. But when there was a lot in it, she would raise it up in front of her face and laugh at me, asking me how long ago I last had sex? I would say the last time I saw her, to make her real happy. But if it was too long ago to be credible, I would say two weeks. Of course in reality, it took much less down time to achieve that volume.

I vaguely remember a girl who liked to tie a knot at the condom end. She would playfully stretch the plastic and then release, making a characteristic noise so I would notice. At the time I just thought she was tidy and careful. But to this date she was the only professional who did this. Looking back it was more. She flashed me the pouch in a show offish way, with a proud smile in her face she would carry it into the bathroom. She did it as a matter of fact way so I didn't think twice about it at the time. Now, the way she carried it reminded me of the can of paint:

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

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