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.

Water Slide

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Positions to pay for

I was never keen on doing things by the book, but for once I was wondering what my favorite positions are called. It isn't simple as lists are either too brief, incomplete, or contradicting. My favorites are, especially when I'm paying:

1. Sky Diving (Rescue)
2. (Dancing) Frog
3. (Sticky) Spoons
4. Butterfly

Not that I don't like other positions, but I would be happy enough if my date does them all for the money. Difficult, vulnerable or weird position requires partnership, and are not suitable for non-regulars.

Sky diving requires no imagination, as you must have seen too many sky divers on TV, doing exactly the same thing, free falling instead of in bed. This is normally called spread eagle, which doesn't describe the positions of the lower legs.

I like to stand right between the receiving partner's legs, optionally holding her pelvis. "Rescue" refers to the situation when the first sky diver's parachute doesn't operate. The rescuing sky diver has to diving into the first! In practice, you have about several inches to dive, sometimes up to nine inches. But that is way happier than any distance of sky diving.

It's rather difficult to ask for sky diving on first date, not to mention the rescue part. Usually I start with doggy for a while, apply all body weight on her for a while, then pull her legs straight, then pull her to the edge of the bed, then bent her feet upwards, and stand between them.

Dancing frog is the most beautiful thing you can see, but unfortunately people call it (Thai) squat! Perhaps I have to petition for a name change so the position become more popular. Many call it Asian cowgirl. As with many names with nationality, there are problems. Even most Asian girls don't do it, or don't do it well artistically.

It's about lying down, resting on a pillow, enjoying the show, while your penis is being entertained by every muscle she has got inside of her. If your date is not beautiful from head to toe, agile, don't bother with it, though the squeeze by itself is highly enjoyable, but you cannot see from outside.

I call it frog because it is exactly what you have to do if you want to frog leap straight up, but only for a couple of inches, up to about nine. The more critical movement is when the receiving partner (being penetrated) falls back to the upright, resting frog position.

Apart from the way the hair, the shoulders, the hands, and anything else, move, a lot of agile foot work is involved. Those who master the foot work can perform great blow jobs at any position, with the whole body moving in sync.

While the dancing frog has minimal contact, the spoons is perhaps the most romantic position money can buy. Other than that french kissing will be very difficult, full body contact can be maintained at all times, like two spoons stacking together. I made the mistake of leaving out the 's' because I thought the position was like applying a spoon to the receiving partner.

The other reason I call it sticky is because I like it when all four arms are intertwined together, maximizing the pleasure. Ideally, two hands are for the two breasts, one for the clitoris and one for the g-spot or anus. It all depends on what you are penetrating, and double penetration with a toy is convenient. Hands take turns to do their jobs, or just holding each other during intermission for the romantic illusion.

The butterfly generally refers to a standing missionary, with arms spread, legs spread or resting on the penetrating partner's shoulders. You can do what you do in an ordinary missionary, and a lot more. It's an ideal position for leg and feet lovers, without being too obvious at the start. You can test the touch and smell of the receiving partner's feet without being obvious. You can reject her without hurting her feelings.

The butterfly is the ideal way to experiment with several more difficult positions. You can cross the receiving partner's legs before penetrating. Bending the receiving partner's legs back to her ears, or even cross behind her head, is called the (Vietnamese) oyster.

These include penetration from above (in front and behind), below and the sides.

Porn vs real life - I don't think it will cause problems for most people, except for the addicts, and everything has addicts, and all addictions are serious problems sooner or later when the media reports on it. For me porn, escorts and real life do not mix. Looking at escort pictures with the intention to commit sex has very different effect on me than porn. An escort with a "must see" picture probably will not attract any attention from me if it is only porn. I don't expect an escort to do what a porn star does, and what an escort does vs what I get at home. You can say I have realistic expectations and the right sort of expectations. Of course an escort can be a porn star, a slut, a causal affair and what you want her to be, as long as you pay enough and wear a condom.

Chuck seems to have found it's winning formula, repeating the theme over and over again, up to several times in each episode. Both parties are so certain that nothing is possible but they kept crossing the line unconsciously. I am of course thinking of my ex professional girl friend. It was impossible from day one - she an escort, a "popular" one at that, and I'm not rich enough for her standards. But I'm way better than her rich boy friend in all departments expect for the one thing. And I enjoyed being with her (except the times when I was really crossed). Though anything more than an hour or overnight will be a different thing.

Instead of complaining about Princess Syndrome in previous posts, I could do something constructive instead - the science of dating or something like it. Dating agencies are bound to fail because people have no reason to be honest, and they really cannot teach people how to get better matches or they will go out of business very soon. There's no secret about dating. People are not honest or don't know about themselves well. Similarly, managers have a hard time dealing with new arrogant recruits.

Will dating agencies tell you this: if you have different outlooks in life than your date, you may be OK for years but end up fighting over how to raise your kids. Planners are valued in corporations as well as being dates, or you will end up with little saving and pension. And meet your potential in-laws ASAP. You can see if your date's breasts are likely to be real, resistance to overweight, real temperament when the honeymoon is over...

The really important criteria but never to be mentioned must be "must like sex". Wet and dripping wet and flowing like a river are very different things. Oral fixation is a good thing but can you keep "up" to her standard every time, and the risk of her going after anything stiff.

My Valentine

A couple of days ago, Mrs Player was finishing her makeup when I spotted her tiny red panty below her short jacket. As if just to match her makeup with her jacket, she wasn't wearing anything else below. Causally I went closer to her, before I knelt swiftly behind her, who was standing up straight. I managed to sniff and squeeze her a little before she kicked me away. I wanted to have a quickie but it wasn't in her plan before her shopping trip. I kidnapped her and threw her onto the bed, but it didn't work. I was only a little curious about where she would be going. I was more concerned when she would be back so I could have a go again. In the end I forgot all about it.

When I was finishing something before saying goodnight to the computer, Mrs Player came up to me in a little black dress, and black high heels. It didn't take long for me to find out that she was wearing a red bra and the same tiny red panty underneath. My professional girlfriend did ask me what's the difference between my homework and field work. So here it goes...

I call my girlfriend whenever I feel like it. But for Mrs Player I have to wait until she is in her mood. Not only the wait, but I also have the burden to make her happy, or else the next time will be further and further away. My girlfriend will just be happy to see me. It's good if I can get her wet, but I also enjoy applying lubrication. That's another story.

No kissing on the mouth - that's Mrs Player's current rule (except when she's semi-conscious). I know my breath isn't perfect but I doubt very much if that is the excuse. I can do hardcore porn positions, but as long as they are the missionary variations.

Nowadays it always end up in the spoon, making me feeling like a blowup doll with a big dildo, providing reliable slow deep screwing action. It is also a dildo with a clitoral vibrator attached. Usually I would start the vibration with my fingers. When I want my hand in other places I would put her hand on her pussy to take over. And in the final moments she wouldn't have it any other way. She would be vibrating with her fingers while both of my hands would be busy massaging her breast. She likes it strong.

The next day she bugs me all day to take her to a fancy restaurant. It dawned on me that it was Valentine's Day. With a sad face I submitted, not because of the occasion, but because of the little black dress last night.

The owner we know gave us one of the few tables-for-two by the glass wall, complete with fresh roses and candle light. Although it's illegal to drink it all and then drive, Mrs Player convinced me to order a bottle of red instead of a glass each. She has known to have been caught driving without headlights on at the same plaza. All that and the big glasses reminded me of good old Paris.

I was drooling at the lobsters that the servers had been walking around busily with, showing the patrons before killing it. At times I thought I were in a Greek seaside restaurant, the servers gliding on sand spilled on concrete instead of marble. Luckily the owner made a deliberate decision not to stock standard 3 pound lobsters so it's a good excuse not to eat too much meat.

In bed I was ready to call it a day when all the food and wine had their effect on me. I didn't remember what I did but ended up in spoon again, with the dildo, and the clitoral vibrators. She was fingering herself while shivering slightly, when I got a new idea. My right hand handed over her right breast to my left hand, now handling both breasts. Then I fingered her anus.

I couldn't have thought of it because it is not a natural position. Caught between my little belly and her ass was my hand, which also got in the way of my penis pumping her pussy hard to orgasm. It was an anal version of acupressure as she had got out of bed before when I tried to insert my finger. The funny thing is that I get closer to ejection every time when I am merely fingering her ass. I don't know if I can hang on any longer if my finger goes all the way.

I accidentally got into the history book (again). This time a geeky version but not really about technology that much. I can't tell you anyway for now. Just busy.

A while ago I recall reading a guy ranting about Princess Syndrome. That it can happen to any woman at any time and may never come out of it. From that I can see that it's everywhere and cross-cultural. I would say it's unfair to woman but of all places USA has plenty of woman proud to be stay at home moms while the working moms with kids in the same classes avoid them like plague, and I can understand why.

I would generalize that given half the chance, people deviate into their own parallel reality and don't want to get out. Women do have more chance to be shielded from the reality, avoiding to deal with it. Some salesmen managed to sell swimming pools to many houses in the neighborhood not long ago. If Mrs Player could put it in the credit card, we would already have built one. Over my dead body.

From shop keepers, it's very typical that the wives look a lot for nice things, but the husbands immediately look at the price tag.

Club Black Picture

Kim's night picture of Club Black (no s) at Buenos Aires, contrasting with the day view from my hotel. No, I wasn't there but my readers were.

For Dirty Little Mind

Audio reading of the first suitable article on my blog roll.

Year end updates & Managing your porn collections

I haven't been catching up with things around me, as I have been self absorbing lately, doing things I like, and writing about it.

I did early spring cleaning on my computer, backing things up and securing them. With TrueCrypt, you can encrypt and burn the whole DVD (or the whole operating system for that matter). Decryption is on the fly so you can watch videos, or copy individual files, directly off the DVD. I went on to use the porn paradigm to manage the whole computer.

You need two passwords, a clean one that can be shared with your wife if the situation arises, and an dirty one that is for your eyes only. Normally all secret data need to be backed up, except for those protected by the dirty password. There are two type of porns, expendable and irreplaceable. Expendable porns are commercial porns that are impractical and not worthy to backup, except for your current fav actress/actor. Irreplaceable porns are your own dirty videos for example. Those with your current wife or girlfriend should be protected by the clean password. Those with your ex, or that somehow you attended a gangbang a decade ago should go in the dirty, for your eyes only catagory. In short, two passwords, three types of data. For any other passwords you need, you store them in a list, protected by one of the two master passwords. I actually encrypt the whole Firefox profile so my everything is secret, not only the tens of online passwords, but also history, bookmarks, etc. In case if you are interested, there's the Geek Corner link around the top left.

It's kids time. They are perfect and I wouldn't want them to grow up at all. But if I have more say about it, either they should have been ready to be kicken out to college or get a job soon, or I may keep only one, small enough to be put in a basket to carry around and stuff it in any space available.

My counter passed the 100,000 marked. It's insignificant but since the next notable target will have to be 1 million, I rather give it a mention now. At this rate it's a long wait though I'm not looking forward to it. I remembered I reset the counter before, and I had other blogs and things before this. Also, I had a video released by mistake with no meaningful content, it got a lot more hits in a week than the whole of this blog to date.

To me it has been another walk in the cloud, which lasted for about a decade. I have no complain and little regrets, other than losing Rebecca's phone number and being dumped by the Professional Liar. So let's see what tomorrow has on for me.

Toe curling moments

Female toe curling happens a lot more than I think, for good or bad. The problem is how to catch it.

After the soaking wet massage on her (last post), it was my turn for pleasure. Then I wanted to kiss her somewhere, but after her orgasm, the place she would enjoy was her pussy. I spread her legs and went for it, though I wasn't big on pussies, especially when soaking wet. I gave her buttocks some friendly but passionate bites. Then I spread them apart to check her ass. It was darker pinkish, perfectly symmetric, perfectly radial. It was perfectly tight too, so I was sure I was on the safe side of the door. I wasn't after any taste or smell. It is some uncontrollable urge that I couldn't explain easily, beautiful yet nasty.

In the beginning, my ideal massage on a female is an excuse for a live porn magazine. Instead of just watching where I want to watch, I touch it too, and instead of turning the pages, I turn her around. Instead of appreciating her post, I make her post. Of course it was awkward for her and didn't go far, even paying for it. Of course after lying down on so many massage tables, I know how to give a bit of decent massage with one hand and no eyes. But the massage seldom last over a minute or two, before I want to fuck the looker under me, instead of just rubbing. But now with a challenge in mind, it's easy to complete the mission.

Of course I went for her ass. Maybe it's like having uncontrollable flashbacks while my tongue was working hard, couldn't open my eyes. When I was conscious I bite her bottom carefully, but with big mouthfuls. Then I was completely done with oral. I turned her over to check the damage on her breast. Of course there was none, they were unbreakable. But still I comforted them for a while as if I was licking their wounds. I put a pillow on my back and positioned myself for the blow job.

Instead she turned me over, asked me to try her massage skills, which wasn't outstanding as she was a professional, but not in massage. What she really wanted was to show how open minded she was. She spread my leg brutally. As if I wasn't prepared, she did it again. Then down came her tongue. It is these moments that: "Don't do anything you don't want to" applies. Why would she want to kiss my ass? There are many other ways to please me, but I have no problem with pretty girls kissing my ass. She got a B on that, willing to please but rather mechanical in a good way. Of course I had better, as if she was trying to apply anal voodoo on me, trying to get a rich boy friend or sugar daddy.

I turned over again, rested on some pillows, again ready for my blow job. It was supposed to be long as I was fully erect and didn't want to spend too much time else where. But she took her time (that I paid for). It was slurpy. She played with my balls and kissed them a little, so I knew I could have more if I wanted to. Visually I would put her at 25. She acted more mature than that, not just the sex acts. But she could be a lot younger because of the way she talked. It wasn't stupid but she is a straight shooter, speaking her mind, or just listening.

Finally it was time to relive the tension built up in me. I got down to the edge of the bed, grabbed her legs all of a sudden, pulled and turned her over. She thought it was a standing doggy but I skipped that. I put my hand on her bottom so she couldn't get up. I entered her right there.

It could easily be my favorite position. The lack of willing and trusting partners make it more desirable. I love standing, for the stronger thrust, and particularly nice to stand between her legs, which had to curl backwards up in the air to relieve the pressure. Now her body was all in short reach of my finger tips, from head to toe.

I twisted her head to see her lovely face, parted her hair away on the side to see more. Dangling aimlessly in the air, I squeezed her ankles hard to signal her to get ready for the ride. With a little kiss on her lovely big toe I started thrusting into her as deep as I could, while my two hands were on her pelvis, pulling her away from the bed, and hard into me.

I was pounding her slowly but forcefully like a foundation building machine, one stroke at a time, each went deeper than the last. Usually you can catch toe curling at these moments. But I wasn't watching her toes. I wanted to kiss her but I didn't want to give up the position I was in. I learned from some girls who demanded kisses in similar positions, before they were willing to go further. It was symbolic gestures on their part but I was serious. I twisted her head and body some more, bent down and kissed away. Kissing is difficult in this position, but there are more reasons for tongue kisses, and she was very receptive about it.

She was pretty warmed up, so my finally charges were the cavalry type, total annihilation of the defenseless enemy, short of a massacre. I cummed, watching her toe curled intensely up in the air, which was a reaction to the sudden warmth in her pussy, or equally likely to be the feeling of being fouled up deep inside her. It didn't make any difference to me, as I had to walk away from it all, having no choice because I was standing up.

I cleaned up the mess on me minimally, and collapsed onto the bed, stretching myself as long as I could, feeling great about myself, and closed my eyes. Obviously it was some sort of recuperation but she didn't seem to notice, or she didn't let me. She was instead bubbly and talkative, which was why I called her a straight shooter and could be a lot younger than she looked. She kept on the conversation even with my eyes closed and couldn't manage to have paid much attention to her. I could hear her saying that my legs are so long. I know. At college I met a girl who told me my legs were to die for. She was cute but only 5'3 or less. I was somewhat surprised to hear that again after so many years, though I must admit legs can't change that much over the years.

She insisted on me answering the questions: "am I really feeling so tired after sex?", or something like:" do man usually feel miserably tired?". I thought I said yes to whatever. I thought these things are well understood by everybody, that's why I thought she was a bit new, or pretend to be new, but she did look and feel a bit new, apart from her open-mindedness. Or maybe she wanted me to wake up and go for the second round. If I were to do it I might give her a facial in the first 15 minutes. Now it was too far down the line to wake up the dead cow in short notice. If she didn't know about that she must be a bit new.

So I was thinking she was just trying to be nice, wanting me to come back, and working on her tips. When my mind and body could drive again, I washed myself quickly, dressed back up and gave her the money she deserved. I then asked her private number routinely, but in her case I really wanted to see her again in a more sustainable relationship. She smiled, as if saying "don't be silly", then told me she was going back to the other coast the day after. It's common, and very natural, animals don't eat and shit on the same place if they can. So by then I was sure that she was only working on her tips. And that she had the undercover look, rather than a porn or movie star.

But that didn't mean that she wouldn't miss me. Her toes did curled, didn't she?

If you cannot watch it, video it. Ask your wife, girl friend, or somebody willing to do it with a non-intimidating toy like cam, poor lighting and in well covered positions.

The soaking wet massage

After the breast torture (last post), I decided to go for the soaking wet massage as she was a good spot.

"Don't do that at home" you always hear. In my case I forget to say on the last post that don't try it in the field if you haven't practiced at home first. At passionate moments mrs player did put my hand on her breast and wanted to rip them apart. "Don't do what you don't want to do", which is cliche, but I seriously mean it. There are always other fun things to do.

So I got up from sitting on her butt, got to the side of the bed, and started the massage on her lower body. It was pretty easy and effective to do. Anywhere on the spine, press, down to the tip between the buttocks. Squeeze on the legs until you feel the bones, up to the leg joints in the buttocks.

I gave her feet some attention but she wasn't at ease, and no encouragement was obtained. So I concentrated on other parts, plenty of work to do.

I started the happy ending at her inner tight, squeezing harder and harder, higher and higher. Even mrs player couldn't resist it when she had no mood for intimacy. When I couldn't get higher without touching her sex organs, I used the accidental naughty last fingers. I teased her pussy with my last fingers as if by accident, while keeping up the pressure on her inner thighs. Like mrs player, she didn't resist and I wasn't going to pretend anymore. Finally I just her a pussy rub, the female version of happy ending, until she was soaking wet, had orgasm.

Not long before, on top of the hour, I arrived at which must be one of the Agency's (California Invisible) safe house. As with any safe house, it's one block off the freeway (or main road). Turn right (or left if you drive on the wrong side) off the freeway (motorway), drive one block, 1st house on the right.

I paid for a comprehensive package so I assumed she would do a lot of things, but no specifics beforehand.

I saw her agency picture before hand. Well portioned, looked normal, liking having a real job for undercover, as opposed to looking like a porn star all the time.

Having a driveway leading to the front door, she opened the door semi-naked without worrying about being seen by neighbors. She was just what I expected, except that she was shorter than I expected, 5'3 to at most 5'5. 6' is tall, and 5'1 is very short. It's hard to tell unless you are standing face to face. Height is immaterial unless you are looking for a partner to have big babies.

After a little formalities she led me up the stairs, showing off her tight bottom, with me sniffing it two steps behind her.

I asked for the bathroom and held her hands to it. It's give and take in this world. In return, even some high priced escorts tried to jerk me off half way while washing my equipment. She just washed it. Though I got the hint that she wouldn't want me to move at all, the usual reason being not to get her hair wet, so she don't need to dry it, or she won't look bad.

It's a good sign that she washed my ass thoroughly, just in case. I reciprocated, just in case.

Before that she asked why I was smiling so happily. You can say it's drooling. I told her honestly because I was very happy with her everything. I wasn't thinking too much at the time. I must had realized that her breast is the all natural unbreakable type, somewhat fuller than Zoe's a few posts back.

Secret agent's secret

I offered her a nude massage and she fell for it. After a few strong squeezes on her neck and shoulders, she was totally relaxed, laid flat with bottom side up, and convinced - that I was going to give her a nice massage. Both naked, I moved swiftly to sit on her butt, twisted her arm to her back, in a classic arresting position.

While she couldn't have struggled, I twisted and pulled her arm, lifted her shoulder, and twisted her body sideways and backwards. She couldn't tell if I was doing a legit massage. I couldn't tell either, though I have a lot of flashbacks on similar things performed on me.

I slipped my free hand under her breast, spread my fingers evenly to cover all of it, released her shoulders, allowing her to fall back flat on the bed. As if her life depends on it, I performed CPR on her back with my free hand, using my full body weight.

Since I'm holding her breast in one hand, not willing to let go, I also gave her the elbow grind, allowing me to rest in a more comfortable position not too far from her breast. If you haven't tried it before, it's like using vehicles with huge heavy rollers to compact and flatten the foundation during road building. Now substitute the roller with my elbow, and the road with her back.

Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I have had so many secret missions under my belt that many moves practiced on me are captured in flashbacks, of which I have no problem recalling given any naked visual simulations. She must had feel good because her arm was still twisted on the arresting position, even without me holding it.

Obviously squeezing her breast intensely wasn't massage, so I tried to cover up the sensation by pressing her even harder on her back and shoulders, so much so that the mattress bounces together with the bed and us on it, and I got a good stimulation on my balls at her butt. She might get my whole hand print on her breast, but she wouldn't be thinking about it at the time. To ensure that any hand print would be temporary, and that she wouldn't wake up from the trance, I tried not to pinch, rub, snatch or scratch her breast, or use too much of my finger tips in squeezing, spreading the pressure evenly, but intensely.

I stopped the back CPR before breaking her. I straightened her twisted arm to her side. Now, instead of one, I was holding both of her breast gently, kissing her back, a little suction, a little wet with tip of the tongue, some outright licking and slurping, a little biting, and then harder, but not enough to leave teeth marks. She was surely feeling my intense erection on her butt and between her legs.

As if following the lyrics of a song, I repeated the same on her other breast. I was sure that she was shaken by the CPR, indeed the whole bed was an earthquake zone, but she wasn't stirred or disturbed - she was in a calm trance.

Then on her I released my secret weapon, which wasn't some weapon, but my bare hands, some sort of maneuver ...

On another note, I was looking at some porn cover arts to spice up things while posting, but it proved hard to find something classy, with enough nudity, beauty and glamor. I also like models standing up straight, revealing everything from hair to toes, ready for a lineup, or cattle auction :). So here's just another pretty picture of a popular girl.

Three porn stars

The girl in the middle reminds me of someone. Escorting is not at all about looks and body shape, but for this girl those are what she has, and not much else. The performance of this porn star is laughable in comparison. I can also feel, not seen, that the male studs hesitate when making a move on her, as if she will suddenly stare at him angrily, and get him fired. In any other movies they will try to kill the girl with sex, to make every cent of her paycheck worthwhile.

First of all, my friend is not as hot as that, but her face is somewhat more exotic in the way of Angelina Jolie, and her hair is superior. She has mixed blood, in a way that she can be anything she likes. If the porn star dyes her hair blond and stands between two blonds, you wouldn't associate her with Asian ancestry.

Just before I met her, my mentor that I later hated, told me that she had a nose job and something else. She has boobs just like the porn star, perhaps from the same mold, but smaller, very natural, as if they were there for all 19 years, starting from zero. Still I thought they are fake as they look too good. After knowing her for a while, I doubt if any of her is enhanced. If she did any enhancement that nice and natural, trust me, I know what I have seen, it had to be expensive and she had to do all those at about 18. I don't think she had that sort of money, had no sugar daddy that I know of, and I doubt if she felt the need to do it. Any job will be icing on the cake, so I doubt if she had that sort of determination to go through all that so young.

So I doubted why my ex-mentor told me lies. He did discourage me to see her, spoiling the market because she was asking more than the rest, and more than she once charged. Maybe there were more, as she dislikes him very much too, with no specific reasons. Incidentally, my mentor once told me that she who doesn't allow you to touch her feet are drug addicts, with needle marks on the toes. He wasn't referring to her but that was what I remembered. I thought so for a while because she is always slim, which would be hard to keep for many other girls. Many a porn star balloons after a movie or two.

She is very pale too, never needing anal bleach, hahaha! After my repeated attempts, she did allow me to go down there, but not before well preparations - pedicure and wax bath. I can testify that she didn't have any needle marks. I can also testify that she never treated her skin with laser or any bleach. Indeed her skin is so nice that she never took real care of it. Once she asked me if fake tan looks good on her, making her less like a nocturnal hooker I suppose, and more like a California girl. I objected strongly because many hookers pay top laser dollars to look like her. Luckily she wouldn't bother to go to the nearby beaches, and that the fake tan induced a little allergic reaction on her skin.

She has to be popular. If you met her somehow or saw her pictures, shoulder to shoulder with somebody else, you will ask for her. Agencies will have no problem introducing her, or call you up to sell her, saying that she is new, so they are not liable for her behavior.

Actually Zoe, in the movie two blogs back, reminded me of my friend, who has many rules, or you can say only one, being on top and does what she wants to do. If I tried a little intimacy, I was afraid that she would, instead of turning me down diplomatically, jerks away and stares at me, telling me off with her eyes, "what the fuck are you trying to do?". She did tried to be nice to me, and wanted to see me again, but in her own way.

That comes to the question of how many times you see a particular girl. A study in the last post say 50, 100 times. Certainly it's not surprising, but I doubt it's common. If it's once a month, it's a lot of years. It's it's once a week, it's the sort of utility type of service, or the guy is very rich.

A guy has different needs at different times. Even if he found his ideal hooker he isn't going to get everything all at once, which would be a waste, of other under used talents.

You don't need Alaska wild salmon every day. Indeed the annual wait makes it more rewarding. For a guy who can spend what he wants, I doubt if he wants to keep seeing a hooker for hundreds of times. Sugar babies with some exclusivity is more likely, more like girlfriends than hookers.

As much as I liked my friend, who also satisfied me more and more, I don't see her all the time. It's the money. I'm willing to pay her price, but for that price it have to be intense. It's have to be sort of special occasion rather than a weekly non event. So it's not just money, but time and energy. I would rather not call her when I'm just feeling boring after lunch, or horny after work. But I did see her more than I wanted, because she called me up with good offers.

Sometimes when I found someone more satisfying in bed, which is absolutely not bad looking at all, like the porn stars on the sides, relatively speaking, I decided against seeing them regularly. I can imagine the virtual lineup, shoulder to shoulder. For the same price bracket, I would like someone better looking, like my friend. It cost the same! I think as much as many men want to see the same hooker again and again, there are similar reasons that keep them searching, hoping the next one will be more perfect, or cost less.

I ended up seeing her most, because she has a habit of killing off the competition. If she misses me too much she would call me up and give me offers. You have to sell hotel rooms or groceries, or they are worthless. In her case I think, after working for a while, she doesn't bother to sells herself much, just enough to get by and look good for her friends and family. Her boobs only swell a little from the first time I saw her. They have to be real, or they have to be low mileage, or both.

Even in the last days that I saw her, I couldn't keep my hands off her breast, both hands, in my favorite position with her, grabbing her greedily from behind, doing the spoon thing. I was doubly hard when I could see what I was doing to her in the mirror. I could see that she wasn't happy at all. Indeed I can see the reverse smile in her Angelina lips. But I am sure she was proud of herself, as I was so awesome, pounding her as if there were no tomorrow, or else she would have kicked me out of the bed.

Scientific American Article: why do men buy sex?

Las Vegas Escorts Blog
While catching up on random blocks on my list I came across the article from LV Courtesan.

The article has no surprises, not even that 90% of Thai men had sex with prostitute. Why can't everybody accept that the issue is complex, diverse, and all of the above? We can't be all sex addicts, can we?

The surprise is:

As if to continue their “relationship,” many if not most johns prefer to go back to the same prostitute over and over again. According to Kleiber’s study, more than two thirds of devotees used the services of a particular prostitute more than 50 times. One in four had sex with the same prostitute more than 100 times.

I don't know how they carried out the study. Surely I prefer to, but I don't most of the time. The reason is simple, have to be comfortable to my eyes and to my pocket. Perhaps I should not live in US.