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[QUOTE=PSmith;2827143]Does anyone know a provider in above mentioned towns and vicinity who entertain a QV BBBJCIM around regular work hours 8 - 6? Please PM if you have any good lead. Thanks.[/QUOTE]Danielle is normally in those areas and occasionally offers QV. Not much of a looker though, unless you are into BBW.
Here is a link:
[URL]http://boston.backpage.com/FemaleEscorts/newton-area-dani-well-reviewed-super-busty-blonde-blue-eyes-ask-about-special/30516069[/URL]
If you want to see an hilarious 10 second video, type in "hot girl sweet Asian Julie". This one made me laugh out loud.
BTW, if anyone has been please let me know.
I forgot to mention, it's in BP Boston Escorts.
Funny and Cute in the end.
[QUOTE=Ambrose;2845096]I forgot to mention, it's in BP Boston Escorts.[/QUOTE]
Empty your mailbox.
Let me know. I thought I missed someone and looked through my pms and couldn't find him. If it's you pm me back. By the way I thought this was funny. I found it in another state on the forum.
Future Crime Scene.
Wow. For a second I considered this. And then laughed my balls off.
BP ad in "Body Rubs".
Headline: " nice normal girl seeks one nice gentleman".
Text: " normal cute college girl needs $1,850 for a debt that needs to be paid ASAP. I've never done this and nervous so please be gentlemen.
Seeking one person who has the financial means to help me one time with full amount, a few full fun hours. This is me.
Please nothing weird, I'm sweet and soft spoken, very pretty. No hotels or public meets, only will go to your house.
If you are serious about helping me then you will send your name and number. ".
To summarize: Invite this girl to your home and have over $1800 in CASH on hand on only the promise of a single photo and "a few full fun hours" whatever that is.
If anyone TOFTT with this girl I guarantee they will be a murder headline in the Courant tomorrow.
Here's the ad while its still up: http: hartford. * com / BodyRubs / nice-normal-girl-seeks-one-nice-gentleman /11438440.
[QUOTE=Deb4512;2847397]Let me know. I thought I missed someone and looked through my pms and couldn't find him. If it's you pm me back. By the way I thought this was funny. I found it in another state on the forum.
Future Crime Scene.
Wow. For a second I considered this. And then laughed my balls off.
BP ad in "Body Rubs".
Headline: " nice normal girl seeks one nice gentleman".
Text: " normal cute college girl needs $1,850 for a debt that needs to be paid ASAP. I've never done this and nervous so please be gentlemen.
Seeking one person who has the financial means to help me one time with full amount, a few full fun hours. This is me.
Please nothing weird, I'm sweet and soft spoken, very pretty. No hotels or public meets, only will go to your house.
If you are serious about helping me then you will send your name and number. ".
To summarize: Invite this girl to your home and have over $1800 in CASH on hand on only the promise of a single photo and "a few full fun hours" whatever that is.
If anyone TOFTT with this girl I guarantee they will be a murder headline in the Courant tomorrow.
Here's the ad while its still up: http: hartford. * com / BodyRubs / nice-normal-girl-seeks-one-nice-gentleman /11438440.[/QUOTE]Sounds like a bargain to me. I don't have that kind of cash on hand at the moment. Wonder if she would take a third party post dated check.
Well I believe the correct words are "transgender" and "cis" or ciss" sorry that I can't remember. But be forewarned if you are in a group site and you use the wrong terminology be prepared to make people angry. I wasn't aware of the correct terminology and that's what happened to me. I believe that transexual isn't used anymore, but I may be wrong. I think transgender means you weren't born with the gender you associate yourself with. I'm pretty sure you don't have to have gone all the way to female. So transexual means a transgendered person who has had the sexual assignment operation? Then there's "cis" which threw me for a loop. I am a cis female, because I was born female and associate with being female. You Nrlmus were born male and are a cis male. I was in a facebook group where the members had to identify themselves as being cis if they were cis to distinguish between them and those who aren't cis. Reminder to self, you weren't "pc" in that group Debbie. "ut just maybe influence OL to come clean her- (him? It? I know that nowadays such sentiments can get you into a deep doo-doo but I'm still having a hard time with referring to OL as a female) -self. I suppose for OL that would make for the second coming out of the closet.
I've been off of this forum for a while. In that time I've found a few girls who are off the radar. I'm reaching out to ask if anyone can hook me up with a girl with a good mouth? I have two early twenty types and one mid thirties, all would be ok with meeting a new guy if I gave them a heads up. They all have day jobs and do not do this as a regular thing.
I'm looking for a woman who is talented at the head game. If you can provide me a (working) number or email, we can trade info on our chicks. Once again a main focus being a great BBBJ.
Thanks, Is.
FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX.
By Tanja Rahm.
Dear sex customer.
If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.
And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.
If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.
When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.
If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.
When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.
When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.
When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.
When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.
When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people's bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.
When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger's vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.
As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.
I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.
You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women's negative view of themselves.
Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.
Yours truly,
Tanja Rahm.
I got off, so thanks.
[QUOTE=MarkIV;2882997]FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX.
By Tanja Rahm.
Dear sex customer.
If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.
And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.
If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.
When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.
If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.
When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.
When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.
When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.
When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.
When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people's bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.
When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger's vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.
As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.
I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.
You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women's negative view of themselves.
Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.
Yours truly,
Tanja Rahm.[/QUOTE]
OK. Here is the situation. The first time I visited my ATF she kept me at least 2, if not 3, hours over allotted time during which I was allowed to do whatever I initially came there to do if I wished continue (or renew) doing it with no limits or impediments. Sure the conversation was fluid and fun but every time, and it was more then once, I told her that I though I was really testing her time limits, she responded with "I'm not in a hurry".
She told me later that it was also a very slow day for her. Fine. But why would she want to keep and keep on making out with someone that she could've as easily be rid of if she felt as this lady below felt about her clients.
I'm not sure if such a thing happened with that woman's other clients but I'm sure that I'm not the only hobbyist such a thing ever happened to.
So I think the account below reflects that particular woman's sentiments. Women are different, just like men are and each woman who provides this type of service has different attitude towards her clients and different tolerance levels for her job. I think it would be a mistake to assume that all women feel about providing companionship like a woman below does.
I think the greatest negative comes from the societal take on their profession and not from their personal attitudes. Believe or not many ladies do this not out necessity but rather out of loneliness and the same commitment phobia as some of us may have. When we pay we drop our guard and not worry about the "the morning after" conversations. For many we also satisfy their female-chauvinist egos and their need for feeling wanted. Furthermore with most of us they don't have to worry about the morning after conversations either. They may enjoy seeing us at our loosest and arguably at our most real. And many more ladies who can present themselves in a certain way do it for glamour too.
So no, I think it would be too pretentious to assume that sentiments below reflect thoughts and attitude of every working girl out there.
[QUOTE=MarkIV;2882997]FOR YOU, WHO BUY SEX.
By Tanja Rahm.
Dear sex customer.
If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast. Do not confuse that with easy money, it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.
And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multitasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as ten seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.
If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for thirty minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.
When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day. Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.
If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had SPD, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me. When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.
When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive. In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at twenty years of age. Basically you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.
When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets. And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.
When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a seventeen-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were fifty, sixty, seventy, or older.
When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting our fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it when I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries. When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.
When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status. You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women. Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people's bodies. Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you. Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships, in which your sexuality could actually flourish.
When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger's vagina. And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her. What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation. A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to get rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.
As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries. But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people, you buy, are not bought. Not forced into prostitution. Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.
I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.
You of course you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women's negative view of themselves.
Take my hand and see me for the person I am on the inside. Let us go together to make a difference in the future. Let us raise our voices to our friends, our girlfriends, our business associates, our bosses, our politicians, and last but not least, to the prostituted. Let us raise our voices together and say that sex is private. Let us shout that sex is not a product on a shelf, but that it can cost dearly if it is treated as one. Let us scream to the world that money and sex do no belong together, and that sex belong to all together different and mutually reciprocal relationships. Because in this case, you will re-concur my respect and I will see you as the person you are, and not just as a buyer of sex, seduced by an illusion.
Yours truly,
Tanja Rahm.[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=Nrlmus;2883270]OK. Here is the situation. The first time I visited my ATF she kept me at least 2, if not 3, hours over allotted time during which I was allowed to do whatever I initially came there to do if I wished continue (or renew) doing it with no limits or impediments. Sure the conversation was fluid and fun but every time, and it was more then once, I told her that I though I was really testing her time limits, she responded with "I'm not in a hurry".
She told me later that it was also a very slow day for her. Fine. But why would she want to keep and keep on making out with someone that she could've as easily be rid of if she felt as this lady below felt about her clients.
I'm not sure if such a thing happened with that woman's other clients but I'm sure that I'm not the only hobbyist such a thing ever happened to.
So I think the account below reflects that particular woman's sentiments. Women are different, just like men are and each woman who provides this type of service has different attitude towards her clients and different tolerance levels for her job. I think it would be a mistake to assume that all women feel about providing companionship like a woman below does.
I think the greatest negative comes from the societal take on their profession and not from their personal attitudes. Believe or not many ladies do this not out necessity but rather out of loneliness and the same commitment phobia as some of us may have. When we pay we drop our guard and not worry about the "the morning after" conversations. For many we also satisfy their female-chauvinist egos and their need for feeling wanted. Furthermore with most of us they don't have to worry about the morning after conversations either. They may enjoy seeing us at our loosest and arguably at our most real. And many more ladies who can present themselves in a certain way do it for glamour too.
So no, I think it would be too pretentious to assume that sentiments below reflect thoughts and attitude of every working girl out there.[/QUOTE]Let me give you my very rare experience. In 2003 I was about 19 at the time living in a different state. I'm not going to go into too much details about me because I don't want someone I know to put two and two together if they ever stumbled across this public forum.
So anyways, I went to an asian massage parlor for the first time and got this very good looking MILF. She was late 30's / early 40's. I had to show her my I'd to prove I was over 18 LOL. Anyways, it was a 1 hr FS session. After my third visit, she had me stopped paying. The only thing she wanted me to pay for was the house fee. Because the oral and sex I gave her was apparently that good, and / or she had a fetish for younger guys.
We eventually moved things to her apartment she was renting from at the time. Every weekend it was a marathon of fucking, for hours on end.
Long story short, I eventually cut things off with her because 1, this would be problematic if I wanted a serious girlfriend later on. 2, she had a child that was 16 or 17 who lived about 100 miles from her current location which weirded me out. And 3, starting a relationship with someone twice my age wasn't going to end well.
I mean, it was fun and good, but that was it. I am much older now and have had a few serious relationships.
But one thing I do admit, she was definitely the best sex I've ever had. I don't think I'll ever have sex as good as I did with her. It does also help to be good looking and can restart your engine 5-10 min after climax. Giving her an hour of oral orgasms over and over again certainly helps too. Those factors def helped me establish that type of relationship with her.
And I don't have her contact anymore. I really wish I did, because I would go fly to visit her right now and bang the brains out of her.