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.