Ripped Nylons

An oldie... enjoy perverts!

Haters Gonna Hate. Themselves.

I got an email early this morning (see below). It links to a very insulting tweet about me, and contains a photo of me stolen from my twitter account, and re-posted without my permission.

I opened this link literally 2 minutes before my client arrived. At first I was like "oh. that's really mean" but I put it out of my mind as my client was here, and undivided attention is part of the service I offer. We had our fun together, kissed, laughed, fucked and sucked each other, came really hard together, and he was gone in under 30 minutes. A stack of 20's on the table, and my own self overjoyed with the prospect of paying not only my phone bill, but having enough left over for some winter boots and maybe even some new clothes! Fabulous.

Then I came back to check my email and remembered, oh yeah, some wanker on twitter sent out an abusive tweet about me and posted my picture without permission - and of course, he was too cowardly to say it directly to me.

I'm a fat woman. I'm also a sex worker. Being degraded, insulted, mocked, called names, de-valued, and treated with utter contempt and disrespect is nothing new to me (and no, it's NOT my clients who do this). I've been dealing with it, literally, since I was 4 years old (I've always been large). When I first started doing sex work, there were a few scattered negative comments about me, mostly on TERB (or TURD as most sex workers I know call it), always about my body or looks (I've yet to see a negative comment or review about my service). I avoid that site entirely, have found clients easily without it, and have a decent list of long-term regulars with whom I have wonderful relationships.

So seeing a hateful tweet like the one above didn't surprise me. My first thought was "hmmm. Maybe 'torontohobbyman' is pissed because I didn't follow him back last year?" My second thought was "wow. I am SO LUCKY that I am a fat woman. If I was not a fat woman, if I fit the very narrow mold into which he pours his beauty standard, I might end up spending time with a client like that".

Now, I know I've spent time with judgmental men who are ashamed of their attraction to fat women, and that's ok. Part of the beauty of this work is that I get to exploit fat-phobia, and male shame about being into fat chicks. I enjoy that. Obviously, guys who wouldn't proudly be with someone who looks like me would never get to be with me outside of a business context. But the thought of spending time with someone like this guy, who is clearly super insecure with himself, who probably hates himself, and who certainly hates women (because men who love women don't degrade them - even the ones they don't want to fuck), made me shudder. I feel bad for the escorts on the receiving end of his "flirtatious" (see: creepy) tweets, and I frowned imagining what kind of client he must be. I'm thankful that I'll never have to know. (My guess: picky, demanding, boring, and super entitled. Probably also a lingerer. But, this is purely speculation.) Being ashamed is one thing. It takes a special kind of hatred of fat women specifically, but of women in general, to engage in this sort of demeaning behaviour.

"Nobody Hates You More Than Your Reflection" - Atmosphere
There is nothing wrong with paying for sex, and people do it for all sorts of reasons. One of those reasons is that folks are unable, either due to their looks, hygiene, social skills, body type (those narrow societal standards, again), latent misogyny, or on account of a shitty personality, to "get" the kinds of women (or men) they find most attractive to sleep with them, which I suspect is this particular client's reason. Because who else, other than someone who hates their own reflection, and women in general (because of the many who've rejected them), spends their time trolling for pictures of women online they deem undesirable, only to post their photos, without permission, simply to degrade and abuse them? Who else, other than the saddest, most insecure of individuals, has to seek out others, who've never even interacted with them, just to insult, mock, and name-call them on twitter? And who but an equally sad, hateful, and unloved individual informs you of said insults, only to insult you more, while simultaneously trying to fake-book an appointment? 

LOL. Seriously dude? Never gonna happen.

I recognize his hatred. I grew up, and still live, as someone deemed undesirable, and I used to be somewhat like this guy: judging the fuck out of everyone around me in a vain, counterintuitive (and unsuccessful) attempt to feel better about myself. It was always fuelled by jealousy, self-hatred, low self-esteem, and/or longing to simply be loved, accepted, and desired. It seems to me that those who so often target folks like me, ARE folks like me, (or like who I USED to be) who've had to deal with bullies, name-calling, and ample rejection. I recognize his hurt, masked as annoyance or superiority, over "undesirables" like fat women. I never went quite so far, at least not as an adult, to seek out others I found gross or joke-worthy just to mock their looks or bodies, but I have mocked people's appearances when I had the chance.

Hurt People Hurt People
And you know what I've learned? Hurting others - because ultimately, I think that's his goal, and the goal of every basic creature who feels compelled to spew hatred at strangers for not looking a way they deem acceptable - never, ever made me feel better for more than a few minutes. And I won't lie, seeing my picture - a picture which I love - splashed on the internet, and reading that people wouldn't have sex with me for $5,000, or any of the other ways people love to degrade women like me, can be hurtful. If I was having a bad day, I may have even cried. But it's not new. It's nothing I haven't heard a million other times, in a million other ways, from a million other irrelevant, lost souls. It mostly just saddens me that human beings feel the need to be so unendingly cruel to each other.

Hurt people hurt people. I know who you are, hobbyman et al. I've met you before. In my mirror, and in the world, countless times. If your goal was to hurt my feelings, or remind me, for the millionth time, that other so-called humans see nothing wrong with mocking someone based on their size or looks, mission accomplished. I was bothered until after the first paragraph or so, and those reminders are a constant part of my daily life. If your goal was to shake my confidence, put me "in my place", deter potential clients, make me hate or doubt myself, or make me feel worthless, I'm happy to report: MISSION FAILED.

If your goal in insulting me was simply to look cool for your judgmental, fat-hating buddies, feel better about yourself, or soothe your clearly sad, troubled heart, make escorts think you're a desirable client, or feel less pathetic, then I hope you succeeded. But I know you didn't.

At the end of the day, you're the one actively seeking me, and other fat (or otherwise derision-worthy) women out, just to have a few laughs at our expense. You're the one paying countless women to sleep with you (a wonderful endeavour on its own - don't get me wrong - paid sex is amazing), women who, I can almost guarantee, would have nothing to do with you otherwise, because you're mean, and a bully, and your hatred for women is obvious. The women you desire can see that as easily as I can, and I promise you, some of them are completely offended by it. You're the one sitting at your computer for hours, looking for people to make fun of. Who does that?

At the end of the day, I treat myself, and others who've caused me no harm, with kindness, love, and respect. I have a table full of friends, laughter, warmth, and joy. I've created beautiful art, woven perfect words together, and just had hot sex with a ridiculously handsome man, for which I was very well paid. I possess goodness, talents, and the ability to inspire others. At the end of the day, I LOVE MYSELF and the countless amazing people I'm blessed to know. I don't need to cut others down, even when I feel jealous, insecure, or bad about myself.

At the end of the day, I am still awesome, and insignificant people like you will never take that away from me. 

Bill #C36 - Tears and Fears

I try to keep this blog sexy, but this is too important to gloss over. Plus, sex workers' rights, and the rights of clients to consensually hire us, are VERY sexy! This needs to be said, and shared, and spoken about. This horror show, AKA Bill C-36, which is supposedly meant to "help" sex workers (though we're consistently referred to as "prostitutes" or "prostituted women" in proceedings), in which so few current sex workers were even consulted (and none of us were taken seriously by the majority of the government), and which we've been SCREAMING is going to put ALL of us in more danger, is most likely going to pass next week, and it's going to be YEARS before it can be challenged again.

I'm sitting at my computer, tears running down my face, listening to Police Association President Stamatakis "testify" about how wonderful and helpful bill #c-36 will be to police who want to arrest "men who want to do abhorrent things" to "especially the most marginalized women" in society. And on the surface, it sounds OK, if you're someone who doesn't bristle at whore-phobic phrases like "none of us want our children growing up to be prostitutes", "no woman chooses this kind of life for herself" or "all sex work is violence against women" (all of which were actually said by abolition groups, senators, and police during these proceedings, repeatedly). If you're thinking those are reasonable statements, you're blind to the stigma and stereotypes surrounding sex work.

People who haven't been following these proceedings, who aren't involved in sex work, who don't have friends who've been arrested for doing VALID work they either consensually chose (and in a lot of cases, as mine, genuinely enjoy) or who turned to it as a last resort (or any of the million other reasons people choose sex work), who don't know anyone who's lost their housing, their children, their day jobs, THEIR LIVES, all because they accepted money for sex or a sexual service,

may not understand why I'm crying. They may not understand the unique fear inherent to sex work: of being outed, of being rejected by a potential mate or landlord or employer, of being disowned, of being thought of as dirty and diseased and damaged, of being attacked (physically, online, verbally, sexually), or of everything I've outlined above and below, simply due to their profession. Friends of mine who've cried during their testimony were attacked online by so-called "feminists", accused of shedding "crocodile tears", supposedly in manipulative attempts to garner sympathy (as though constantly regaling us with sad stories of past exploitation, addiction, abusive relationships and exploitative working conditions can't be placed in the same category, if one is being cynical). People who are only observing this, and who don't have friends, family, partners, lovers, children, or anyone else they love being impacted by this may not understand my tears, my rage, or my sense of utter hopelessness. 

I am not alone in feeling this way. I'm blessed to be connected (in numerous ways) to a large community of sex workers, from Dommes, cam girls, escorts, porn actors, and sugar babies (and beyond). People who have saved my life, uplifted me, prioritized me and other workers, and whose resilience, brilliance, and strength seems boundless. People who, at first, I was shocked to discover were "just normal people like me". As far as I can tell, at least based on those I've been in contact with (in addition to the chorus of voices online, including those "marginalized women" politicians are so keen on "saving"), we are ALL (to varying degrees) feeling down, afraid, hated, depressed, vulnerable, isolated, ANGRY, and very much against C36. It's especially troubling after what so many of us (myself excluded) felt was the great victory of Bedford V. Canada.

Try to imagine for a moment that your work (whatever work it is you do) was surrounded by societal shame, even if the work you do provides a pleasurable, valuable, and often healing experience for others. Imagine your job is selling sandwiches, but purchasing sandwiches is illegal. Imagine if, while on the job, you faced violence/rape/coercion/threats or any sort of abuse or exploitation, and, because of the shame, stigma, and criminalization of your work, you felt too afraid to ask police for help, because you know, based on their track record, that you will, at best, be ignored, and at worst re-victimized/arrested. Imagine if you DID seek the help of police, based on their constant public proclamations of being "on your side", and instead of your abuser facing justice (a very inaccurate term to describe the racist, classist Canadian system), you wind up being arrested, having your earnings seized, being evicted, losing custody of your children, being deported/losing your immigration status, and being told your only options are a criminal record, or a program to "rehabilitate" you, even though there is nothing wrong with you or your line of work. Imagine the police sitting outside of your work place, in full view of your neighbours, in the hopes of catching you doing something that both you and your client have fully consented to, and which is harming or impacting no one? Supporters of C36 will argue that workers themselves won't be targeted, but the sections pertaining to communicating in public, keeping a bawdy house, advertising, living off the avails, and even criminalizing the purchase of sex will mean that sex workers who want to find and service clients will be facilitating or participating in criminal acts. 

Remember, there is no universal experience of sex work, despite what prominent people say. It's not inherently degrading or inherently empowering. Sometimes it's about survival. Or making money. Or exploring your own sexuality. Or the only reasonable option for getting a fix. Or it's fun. Or it's the only thing that's ever worked for you. Yes. Sometimes sex work is horrible, degrading, and soul-crushing. Just like any other job. Sometimes sex work is fun, easy, educational, and rewarding. Just like any other job. Sometimes it's tedious, boring, annoying, exploitative, and exhausting. Just like any other job. Sometimes it's lucrative, and sometimes you have to eat canned beans or ramen noodles for a month, a dynamic many creative freelancers can easily relate to. 

But almost always, sex workers provide a service which has never been illegal in Canada, which has been around longer than agriculture, and which usually involves an act that is perfectly legal when a camera is rolling, or when offered in exchange for dinner, trips, and shopping sprees, or when performed for free, and which is often (and traditionally) the basis for marriage. If someone is being forced to engage in sex acts, against their will, that is called rape, NOT sex work or prostitution, and we already have laws, which go largely unenforced, against that. I constantly see politicians, police, "sex work survivors" and "women's rescue centres" confusing and deliberately conflating the two, when they're not the same. You wouldn't compare rape to sex, would you? If you would, you lack a fundamental understanding of both sex and rape.

If you've never done sex work, and you're basing what you think you know on the popular mainstream narrative of stranger-danger involving exploited, addicted women, accompanied by a seemingly endless supply of stereotypical stock photos of women in short skirts and 13" inch heels leaning into cars on cold, dark streets, and you've never gotten to know an actual sex worker, then I can see why my tears might not make sense to you. You probably tell yourself I'm sad at what I've become, at what I've reduced myself to. You see whore is the worst thing a woman can be, in most people's minds. But I'm not ashamed. I'm proud of myself, and I love that I was able to (briefly) pull myself out of poverty.
 
I'm angry, and afraid, and sad that controlling women's bodies and pandering to conservative voters (the core of C36) is more important to our society, government and law enforcement than the epidemics of rape, climate change, poverty, food insecurity, colonialism (the ROOT cause of harms facing Indigenous women in this country, and worldwide - which is rarely even acknowledged), racism, and domestic violence. I cry when I listen to a bunch of rich, entitled, white men (and a few women), who hold my safety, my future in their hands, discuss me as though I am an object for them to use, as though I have no agency, as though I am just a dumb, lost, fallen woman who would really rather be crucified at the alter of their moralism, if only they could make me see what's good for me. Is that not exploitation? I cry because the rage is too deep to manifest any other way.

I cry because I have several tens of thousands in student loan debts, am educated but for some reason unable to find "vanilla" work, and I can't do most types of work due to physical limitations and bodily injuries, and my one and ONLY means of survival (and only hope for one day being out of debt and poverty) is soon to be criminalized and ripped away. If you're someone like me, who is lucky enough to have low rent in a city built for millionaires, if you're someone who would likely end up homeless if evicted from their apartment (a very real danger when doing sex work from home - something I am unable to do under criminalization, even though it's safer), and who has no savings, no safety net, no insurance, no work references, the realization that in a week's time you could face legalized police harassment, arrest, eviction, and homelessness is crushing. It feels like there's a mountain on my shoulders. There is no alternative for me. No first and last month's rent. No money for movers. No money for hotel rooms. No hope. For someone like me, who is already in a niche (bbw) market, soon to be crossing into another niche (milf/mature), who everyone is quick to say "won't be targeted" by police, I cry because I simply can't afford to take that chance. I cry because I have no idea what I'm going to do, but most importantly, I cry because sex work is what I feel I was meant to do at this juncture in my life. I love it. I love my clients. I love what I've learned doing this work. I love the ways in which I've found, cared for, and asserted myself. It is where I found community, strength, power, self-confidence. At least they can't take the latter away from me. I guess that's something.


Photos:
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BqH81EeCIAAHslC.jpg:large
https://twitter.com/hashtag/joysmithmeme
http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2010/12/17/whore-stigma-makes-no-sense/
http://pbs.twimg.com/media/BsOqC4-CQAE3OvA.jpg

Helpful Sex Work Links

Here are some links to accompany a presentation I'm giving to the Prisoner's Justice Film Festival

These are in NO WAY representative of the entire spectrum of voices out there, and I suggest you seek out other voices as well. But these are some links and people I've found very insightful, and helpful.

In no particular order….

Emi Koyama (breaks down the myths of trafficking data, among other awesome writings)

http://eminism.org/store/pdf-zn/trafficking_web.pdf

POWER

http://www.powerottawa.ca

Book - Selling Sex: Experience, advocacy, and research on sex work in Canada

http://www.ubcpress.ca/search/title_book.asp?BookID=299173904

Maggie's Toronto

maggiestoronto.ca

SPOC - Sex Professionals of Canada

http://www.spoc.ca

Native Youth Sexual Health Network

http://nativeyouthsexualhealth.com

Scarlet Alliance - Australian Sex Workers' Association

http://www.scarletalliance.org.au

Noami Kwe - Fierce Indigenous Feminist

http://kwetoday.com

Nikki Thomas - Former Executive Director of SPOC

http://www.msnikkithomas.com

Tits and Sass - One Big Service Piece

http://titsandsass.com

Everyday Abolition

everydayabolition.com

Molli Desi Devadasi

http://mollidesidevadasi.blogspot.ca

Red Umbrella Project - Amazing Podcast Series

http://www.redumbrellaproject.org

Anna Saini

http://www.annasaini.com

N'Jaila Rhee

Blasianbytch.com

Best Policy Practices

http://www.bestpracticespolicy.org

Desiree Alliance (hosts a yearly conference on sex work)

http://www.desireealliance.org

Melissa Gira Grant

http://postwhoreamerica.com

And for those on twitter, there are A LOT of great conversations happening (and also a lot of ignorant bullshit being spread by anti sex-work activists, so be warned):

Check out these hashtags (the # symbol) on twitter

#sexwork

#NotYourRescueProject

#AfterBedford

#BedfordSCC

#CDNpoli

#TOpoli

#lndont

#QuestionsForAmnesty (who recently called for decrim)

#ListenToSurvivors (started by SW abolitionists)

#AJstream (re. the recent Al Jazeera segment on sex work)

And these twitter users:

@NYSHN

@kwetoday

@thatSabineGirl

@FemWho

@AudaciaRay

@Jess_Danforth

@MaggiesToronto

@PhyreCracker

@BlasianBytch

@FemmeiFest

@MolliDesi

@DarbyBPPP

@BrazenLee

@TracyQuanNYC

@ScarletAlliance

@MistressMatisse

@MelissaGira

A Bang In The Night - NSFW

A loud BANG wakes me up. My heart is racing. My eyes adjust to the moonlit darkness of the room. I hear only the sound of my breathing and see no movement. I feel for my cell phone, the rest of my body stiff, in case the intruder I imagine to be in my apartment is in my bedroom. 3:33AM. "BANG" I hear it again, this time, it's obviously coming from outside my heavy, steel apartment door.

Hey "radfems" - A poem

"I'd like to acknowledge that this event is taking place on uncedded Native land, and I'd like to thank our Native Canadian hosts for very graciously tolerating our presence here on Turtle Island.

NOTE: this poem contains rather excessive swearing



Hey "rad fems!"

On self-respect (I have it)

EDIT: Due to facebook's totally hypocritical standards, and fat phobic behavior, I've been banned for posting pictures of myself in bra and panties. 

I've been hearing a lot of what I can only bullshit lately, mostly in personal circles, more specifically from "friends" on facebook.

It usually starts something like this: Random facebook guy, whom I've never met, seen, or heard of, will send me a friend request. I accept them all, because I am on facebook to meet potential clients and make money. It has to be said that on my public profile, I CLEARLY state that I am hooker, and you should know this before adding me as a friend.

2012 update

It's been forever since I've updated this blog. Sorry to people who follow it. Happens to blogs I follow all the time, and I'm always like "come onnnn! write something!"

CBC's call-in show about sex work

Click for audio

Lots of callers are speaking for sex workers. The sex workers speaking for themselves are pretty straightforward about it being a choice for them. HUMAN TRAFFICKING is NOT SEX WORK.

Joy Smith is particularly offensive.

I'm going to be writing more about speaking for sex workers in a later post. WOOHOO Berlin! Very well-said!

Recipe for romance

I can't decide on what to call him. He, with the deep brown eyes, pinkish lips and perfect touch. Sweet, sensitive, and smart. Waiting to seduce me with glasses. The curious and charming accent. The latent humility. And he makes me climax rather effortlessly, and talk rather openly. Gorgeous, snuggly and warm. Memories of last night are making me smile.

How we met is not important, and I've been advised several times to be more mysterious. So there you go. He's a man, I'm a woman, and the chemistry was evident right away. People who passionately love sex, in my opinion, do it better. We're two such people. Chemistry is a weird thing. It swells our bits into a frenzy and makes our hearts soft. It creates first solace and then anxious longing. It's too bitter to have all the time, and sweet enough to make the bitter bearable. I want to be careful with words like chemistry, love, passion. Words are dangerous and subjective and often mis-understood/communicated. Do you think you can love someone for just a night or two? Or is that just the chemistry going to my still-softened heart?

It went down something like this:

1 (heaping) part chemistry
2 parts passionate sexual beings
2 parts mutual respect
1 part open communication
2 parts swollen bits
4 parts sensitive nipple play
1,000 parts kissing
1,000 parts touching
5,000 parts oral copulation
1,000 parts stimulating conversation
1,000,000 parts laughter
OPTIONAL: 1 continental divide

Preheat oven to 0˚ (you'll be making your own heat). Mix all ingredients well, adjusting according to taste. It is very important to NOT substitute the the chemistry for other ingredients. Sprinkle with some charm, wit, dorky nicknames and party favors and ENJOY for 6-18 hours (or more!).

He inspired all of this, and I still can't think of a name to give him. So let's go with... Neffew

Paying For It

I got an email today from a guy who saw my dancing video. He said he'd like to spend time with me, get to know me. I responded, informing him that I am an escort, and that he could check out my site and make an appointment. Aside from stating that he expected a different response, he also said "I would never pay someone to be with me". And this got me thinking. Why not? And why the implication that paying for sex/companionship/affection/fantasies is somehow shameful, or for desperate people? It also got me thinking about paying "for it", and under which circumstances I may or may not do that.

Before, and even after, I became an escort, I had a gazillion preconceived notions about the people who "pay for it", the clients. I remember so clearly, meeting my second client ever (well, second client as a real, dedicated pro. Ask me about my Lankan days sometime). There Brown Eyes stood, in the exact outfit he'd described in his email, looking crazy gorgeous and friendly. He looked at me, and he looked as though he was expecting me but, no way that's him... he was so beautiful... he couldn't possibly be waiting for me? To pay? ME?. I quickly assumed he was a cop, and I'm pretty sure I asked him if he was. He was not. At the time I remember flashing back to an episode of The Wire, where McNulty (certainly nothing to sniff at) is sent to bust a brothel, because Sydnor (equally nothing to sniff at) "...doesn't look like he has to pay for it". But what does someone who pays for sex/companionship/affection/fantasies look like? Who do you assume them to be?

That was the best money I ever spent
The man who uttered these words to me, immediately after some amazingly hot sex, is one of the most physically attractive men I've ever met. Not my usual "type". He's quite buff (an obvious polarity next to my ample frame, though I do work out daily) and seems aloof and shy. I picture him in a VIP booth, with other magazine-quality men, surrounded by eager magazine-quality women. By most standards, he's one of the "beautiful people". He's single. Sexy. Hot. Confident. Yet he pays for sex? He pays for sex with a fat girl? What the fucking fuck, Isaac Newton?

Hun, I don't have to pay for it
Realistically, almost no one has to pay for it. If you look hard and long enough, you can likely find someone who will give you what you want/need. Most of my clients don't "have" to pay for it. Most of them, if they were single, and we met under different circumstances, wouldn't have to pay me either. The overwhelming majority of my clients are attractive, under 30, and are really excellent lovers. However, there are some clients who feel that paying for it is prudent and/or practical. These include:

1. Married/Attached folks who don't want to be found out, and find affairs too complicated/painful.
2. People with specific fantasies and fetishes who don't feel comfortable or safe venturing out into the BDSM/kink (amongst others) scenes.
3. LGBTQP folks who want/need their privacy maintained.
4. People who are too busy to hook-up/date/maintain relationships
5. People who really just want sex. Right now.


You must meet a lot of creeps
While I'm on the subject of stereotyping clients, this sort of statement/question comes up often. The answer is no, I don't meet a lot of creeps. I meet a lot of nice, handsome, funny, shy, awkward, honest, horny people. I hate when people judge my clients just because they pay for my time. Just because they pay for pleasure? I especially hate when clients do it, because there are people out there doing the same thing to them! Because really, what do you know about my clients? Does the act of paying for sex make someone icky? Creepy? Pervy? And what does that make me? Ask the men you know. I bet you 7 out of 10, if they're being honest, will have paid for sex at one point. 8 out of 10 if they're being really honest. This is purely anecdotal, but of ALL the (hetero) men in my life, and of all the men that I've ever asked, I can think of only two who've never admittedly "paid for it": Pho ho and my dad (and I'm pretty sure my dad lied when he offered that information). SO chances are those creeps I'm meeting are your husbands, brothers, uncles, dads, teachers, doctors, lawyers, boyfriends, bff's, bankers and personal trainers. Many of them are legally bound to a woman, or a man, maybe you?

Would I? Ever?
I think one day I will hire an escort, just to experience the process. Seems to me that people need a fair amount of confidence and trust to pick up a phone, or go for a ride, make an appointment or deal, and then hand over a wad of cash. I'd be wondering "is this person really into me?" and if they seemed like they genuinely were into me, I would wonder if they were faking it. Many clients doubt the compliments I give them, which leads me to believe that at least some of them ask that question as well. There was one point, years ago, when I wasn't getting any head. It was like there was something wrong with me. I considered hiring someone, having exhausted what seemed like all of my options at the time. If I hadn't met my ex around then, I may have *GASP* paid for it!

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with paying for it, or getting paid for it. Some of my best relationships are with my clients. Pure, simple and refreshingly honest. I provide a fun, accessible service. I leave them happier and less tense. What's shameful or wrong about that?

Previously Unanswered Questions: NOW IN ANSWERED FORM!

To answer one of my own previous questions:

YES. Some clients will stop, and have stopped, seeing me because I've lost weight. Although I should say to those clients, if you're reading, I've gained quite a lot back, so come on back darlin'. Drastic cut down on exercise, cold weather and 1/2 priced cupcakes will do that to a person sometimes. Plus what I lack in extra fat I make up in for in added exuberance, freakish leg strength and WAY more energy to torture and smother you. I'm lighter, but stronger.

And to answer some of your, my fans' and clients', questions:

YES. I am flattered that you jerk off to my pics. However, telling me in person, during a session, as my most recent client (Dreamboy) did, is way more awesome than telling me anonymously. He lives in another province. Knowing that he will be getting his sexy self off to me from hundreds of miles away is such a turn-on, especially now that I have an image of him to fantasize of later. That he paid me for my time shows me that he appreciates me and what I do. And that's better than an email from someone I never meet. It's nicer to put a face to the... errr.... fantasy. Do not let this deter you from sending fan mail, however. I enjoy hearing from everyone, even the jerks who call me names. And especially the ones who just jerk.

NO. I did not travel over the holidays. I stayed in Toronto and played host to an intimate gathering of friends and chosen family, and one mis-vite. Rumnog was drunk, drinking games were played and many gifts were exchanged. Melancholic but beautiful time. I am ashamed of the excessive food leftovers (which I am going to be munching on shortly).

YES! Santa did find me! He brought me vibrating nipple clamps, many new and smoking hot clients, and a book of mostly skinny-bodied nudes, amongst many other treasures.

NO. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't know why. I don't know "what's wrong with people". I can't explain why "someone so beautiful and amazing" as me is single. I don't know what is wrong with being single anyhow. I enjoy being single. I do enjoy intimate partnering, but I've always been pursued for sex more than relationships. I actually accepted a date for today and was rudely stood-up. I'm a romantic at heart, but I'm also a very strong-willed and independent person. Aside from fat-phobia, slut-shaming and general stupidity, I hesitate to offer explanations for my Lack of Boyfriend (LoB)™. Frankly, offering an explanation seems to suggest something wrong with not having one, and, frankly, that's bullshit.

YES. I painted that. I am an artist, and have been since I was a toddler.

YES. People actually pay me good money to have really good sex with me. I'd imagine they do it for the same reasons as other people: they think I'm hot, or they have a fantasy, or maybe they want to get crushed. And NO. I don't really care if you think I'm "ewwww". That's your business.

YES! I AM for real!

MAYBE. But chances are, I've never been there. I've hardly traveled at all. I grew up relatively poor, and have been on my own since age 17. Add to that impulsive spending and lack of passport and.... oh what the hell! I have no excuse. I'm taking a trip this year! *looks up at passport application*

A Real Cunnilinguist (and some generalized Astrological observations)

A friend of mine, we'll call him Aurelius, came by last Tuesday night. It was late, maybe 3AM, and I was still up. His email came in hours before, and just as I was off to bed, thinking he'd made other plans, the proverbial bootie call came (rather, bootie email). He was here within 15 minutes. What ensued was very memorable.

We chatted a bit, about travel, politics, niceties, sex. There's a very odd chemistry between us. I'm mildly attracted to Aurelius, and he to me, but it's really just a sex thing. And really mostly just an oral sex thing.

Now, he's eaten my pussy before. He was good at it. But this night was different. I've had oodles of men go down on me, and make me come in literally seconds. I've had some top notch oral, mostly from paying clients (something I can never seem to wrap my head around), but this was different. I can't remember a time when anyone gave me such unbelievable oral sex.

First, he teased my nipples, obviously. He's a Scorpio. Not meaning to generalize, but... in my experience, they're the hottest, most passionate lovers (with their opposites, Taureans, taking a close second place, and those beautiful moon-ruled Cancerians never failing to please either) . The little things are not wasted on them. Blowing in the ear, teasing the little belly hairs and even the swelling effect in my cunt are lost on some guys. But never on Scorpios. The Scorps I've been with really enjoy their sex, and they really take their time with it. And he was no exception. After he got me all inflated by way of my nipples, he made his way slowly down, kissing every ample inch on his way down. When his face was inches away from my erect clit, I could feel his warm breath on me. My entire body was on fire. His tongue started to lick me, just barely, flicking about on my outer lips, thighs and ass. He didn't even graze my labia for several minutes. For a second, I wondered if I smelled off. I knew I'd showered recently, and surely he would say something if I did? And then, his tongue hit me, just barely, and I shivered and moaned. He licked my huge, swollen labia up and down, barely touching me as he did. "Oh wow... that feels awesome" I told him and he moaned, feeling like a gentle vibrator. I started to feel extremely relaxed, and I looked down to see his smiling face diving down again. This time, I spread my legs wider, and he groaned "oh my God. Look at this beautiful pussy. You're so swollen baby!" and I told him that was entirely his doing.

He licked me, gently, up and down and all over my crotch area. His tongue went right inside me, deep and hard, and he moaned some more. He actually paused to tell me how good I taste, something I hear often. "Give me your tongue" I said to him, and he came up to kiss me briefly, letting me taste me. And back down he went. Admiring the view in my mirror of his backside and my spread legs, and the view from above between my legs, I knew I was being teased. It was delicious. I love being teased and taking unlimited amounts of time to discover someone's body, and I love when someone takes so much time to discover mine. We're all so similar, but sexually we're all so different. I love learning these little erotic mind spaces and secrets we all possess. And apparently, one of his secrets was that he is an expert pussy licker. He was moving his tongue up and down, right between my engulfed lips, still barely touching me. At any point, he could have made me come with even a few strokes of my clit. But he still hadn't even touched my clit. I could tell he was thoroughly enjoying teasing me. While licking me I ask him "do you like when someone teases YOU this way?" and he moans into my cunt. So I continued asking him questions like "you know I'm gonna slow-torture your cock later, right?" and "What are you doing to me?" and he continued to moan. When I told him how I was going to tickle his whole body with my long hair he moaned so hard that I almost came.

Finally, he made his way to my clit. Though it was completely erect, I reached down, and with my two hands, stuck it out even more, whispering "lick it, look how hard it is". "Holy FUCK!" he said, looking at it, then at my eyes, and he dove on it. He sucked my clit briefly, then moved back to my labia, which, I am increasingly learning, is a huge nerve-center for me. He then started licking ALL the way up and down, from clit to ass, then back again. He was using the most gentle pressure. I could tell he was barely touching me at all, but the sensation was heavenly. He did this for maybe 45 minutes, keeping me fully swollen the whole time. This must be what blue balls feels like, minus the pain (though I have experienced the frustration and pain of being fully swollen and on the brink of orgasm only to meet an anti-climactic end): A constant wave a pleasure without enough pressure to cause orgasm. But I love this kind of treatment. I knew that if I had to, I could reach down and and rub out an orgasm anytime.

I didn't. I just lied back and enjoyed the amazingly soft and gentle tongue licking me expertly into submission. I've never felt anything like that before.

By contrast, after I'd had my turn with his cock, I found myself sitting on his face a number of times, and at the end, I was hovering above his face, rubbing my hard clit and watching him stroke himself. Waiting for him, I came as soon as I saw him explode. That was all it took, and I even stopped stroking myself and came anyhow.

Thanks, Aurelius, for the most amazing oral ever! You blew my mind, and your load, and I discovered something new that I enjoy. Next time I will try humming a whole song while he's in my warm mouth.

About Last Night...

It was fantastic, Crème Brulée. You had me from hello. I admit it. Beautiful, smiling, friendly men are my weakness, my fatal flaw, my sun on cloudy days. These things alone are enough to turn me to putty. Add into the mix the softest lips maybe ever, silky facial hair, a clean hipster aesthetic, similar hobbies and sexual prowess, as well as some BOMB-ASS weed and enthusiastic, responsive kissing... I can see why my friend said "don't fall for clients" as I was gushing about the awesome session. Well-meaning and misguided though he may be, a hot session does not equal any kind of falling. But it does mean my thoughts for the next few days, weeks, maybe even months will occasionally drift back to him, and last night, and what we did.

He sent a pic, which rarely happens. He looked like a model, so I wanted to assume "spam/phishing" but something about his email told me I would be meeting him. And sure enough, near or after midnight, he calls and I get the warmth. We make a date for an hour, and he shows up in a half hour. Even one minute after saying he was five minutes away, I hear a knock. I was not ready! But oh was I ever ready. I didn't know it, but I was about to get everything I'd been idly wanting all day: some hot, paid sex with a hot, fun partner.

We partook and chatted. I felt slightly shy, as I often do lately, and after we butted the doob, I said "what now? shall we talk?", then I pulled him close and he came to me. He kissed me perfectly the first time, and he was into it. I kissed him for a few minutes, feeling my body already tingling in arousal, before I stopped and complimented his skills. Hands began to linger on each other, and finally I just wanted to be all over him. I asked him to come with me and he followed me eagerly to my bed, where we undressed down to our underwear.

His eyes, so appreciative and sparkly, were on me constantly. Eye contact tends to turn me on. I always like to look at my lovers. His lips, soft, full, surrounded with silk, were on me constantly. Nothing turns me on like intense chemistry and really, really good kissing. We just kissed and kissed and kissed, hands in hair and on backs, asses, arms. I'm too distracted by thoughts of last night to even write about last night.

He spoiled me. He turned me over, and on top of me, kissed me everywhere. What is up with these beautiful boys and the Goddess treatment? He even referred to me as such. I was in heaven, with those eyes darting up to look at me and a very experienced tongue and mouth working on my smoldering body. He licked my pussy like a professional, taking his time and making me totally swollen before even licking me. I almost came just from feeling his tongue on me.

After licking me until I was dripping, his shorts came off. Perfect compact little body, and a jumping perfectly sized cock. I just laid back and shook my head in disbelief. How can this be my job? How can I be getting paid for this? And then 69, my favorite. He was quite the rock star in that position. I know it's difficult to get properly angled, but he was making full, strong contact with my clit. I could tell he liked the humping motion, he had asked me to dance on him, after all, so I worked my hips back and forth on his face as I sucked him slowly in my warm mouth. Again, highly distracted.

After kissing and licking him everywhere, and sucking him lovingly, I had to have him inside me. Condom. I straddled him again, breasts, again, in his open and waiting mouth, sucking them until my pussy throbbed. If not for the insane twitching on his part, his amazing dick would have slid right in, but it was quite literally jumping all over the place when I came near it. So I guided it in, just barely, and bent down to kiss his waiting lips. I wanted to feel him gasp when I slid down on him. He kissed me hard, pulling me close to him and pushed himself up inside me and I was the one who gasped. It started slowly at first, then built into furious fucking, kissing, moaning and bouncing. We did this for an hour, at least. Me on top, him on top, stopping to kiss. Then slowing down, moaning, talking, kissing, just using our muscles to squeeze each others' bits.

This story doesn't end with a big climax scene. I don't think either of us even did. I don't think either of us cared. I know I didn't, and don't. I came twice today just thinking about kissing him. I was satisfied with kissing, oral pleasuring, amazing skin-tingling fucking, kissing, did I mention kissing, and then briefly sleeping in each others' arms, and kissing goodbye for five minutes. Tell me what's better than that?

Fantasies: ALL business

I've noticed a trend recently. When I fantasize, i.e. when I am getting off (or trying to), it's almost always clients who feature most prominently. I guess that more than a year into escorting I am still shocked that 99% of my sessions are fun, satisfying, and with people I am really attracted to. When I began, I had SO MANY misconceptions about sex work. I just thought that those things didn't apply to me. When I began, I still thought that many hookers, strippers, porn stars, etc. were likely just cokeheads with hot bodies who probably didn't enjoy what they were doing. I'm not sure why I thought I was the exception. Meeting other like-minded sex workers completely opened my eyes. But then, my eyes have opened to many of the biases and judgments I carry around over the past year. I thought only people who HAD to pay for sex (whatever that means) paid for sex. But no. I remember seeing Brown Eyes, my second or third client, ever, and thinking "holy crap! he must be a cop!" WHY would such a GORGEOUS man be paying for sex? Especially sex with someone like me (me being much less confident at the time), i.e. someone many men wouldn't even admit to being attracted to?

It still baffles me at times. I think much of it is the anonymity. Maybe a lot of my clients wouldn't want to date or otherwise spend time with me, so they feel they should compensate me. Many are married or attached. Some just have a specific fantasy. I'm sure a huge chunk of them fear rejection. But this is not what this post is about.

Fantasies. Lately they involved the following: twitchy dicks, poking, warming and tickling my thighs and ass. Female nipples and clits, being licked and sucked, by me, to perfect orgasms, no reciprocation required. Two of my favorite clients ever, the new one from last night, let's call him Crème Brulée, and Nate, the golden shower enthusiast. I picture Nate under me, licking me, drinking my piss, and Crème Brulée, sitting on his chest, kissing my lips and nipples, and maybe even playing with Nate's equally formidable cock. I think those two together might literally be too much for me to handle, and don't think either of them is bi. Pity. Would I have a heart attack in the face of so much sexiness? Other fantasies involve the Unicorn, Dinar, and a young man I will call Pompadour who came by a few weeks ago to service me. Even after he came, he stuck around to make me come. Rare in guys who aren't paying.

I dunno. For all of my open-mindedness it still seems weird to me that the sex I get paid for is almost always better than the sex I end up having for free. I'd argue that I get off on the anonymity, but the longer I see clients, the hotter our connections seem to become.

So yeah. If you rocked my world, chances are you get me off even when you're not around. I still can not believe the boy from last night. Un-fucking-believable.

This Ain't Your High School Chemistry

We'll call him Dinar. I almost didn't answer the phone. Three prank calls today, all within 3 hours of each other. Why do these plods insist on interrupting my girlfriend time / mall trolling with their nonsense and name-calling? "Do any other service providers have to endure this kind of abuse from clients" I asked my beautiful companion, before thinking about what I was saying. Of course they do, we both agreed.

These kinds of calls were running through my mind when the phone rang earlier. Something told me to answer. I heard a vague French-ish accent, a bit of shyness, and what sounded like genuine interest. My instinct, which is what I mostly rely on, cried "PROCEED GIRL" so I did.

45 minutes later, after I'd showered, powdered, spritzed, brushed and dressed, he arrived. Well-groomed, nicely dressed, and very handsome, he entered and smiled, and I asked him to close the door.

We took care of business and I led him to my bed. I took off my shoes and laid (lied, lay?) down. He, fully dressed, smiled and laid down next to me. Though I could already sense it, he informed me that he may be a bit shy at first. I told him that was no problem. I just wanted to kiss him, so I did. When he responded with his warm tongue barely touching mine, we both moaned. "Mmmm... you're a very good kisser" he said, parroting my exact thoughts about him. At that moment, I knew this was going to be a very good session.

I took my time kissing him. It varied at times from lip-numbingly hard, to soft, to full-on tongue sucking and then light nibbling. We kissed for a while, moaning, clutching each other's torsos, necks, arms and hands. We were still clothed when I got on him. After kissing a while, I leaned back to remove his sweater. As he pulled it off, I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. "Oh baby" he muttered as I brought my full, bare breasts down onto his salt-and-pepper bare chest (I want to lie my head and hands on that chest right now). I hadn't even ventured down to his crotch, nor had he to mine, but I was already way beyond aroused. Being on him, feeling his hard-on under me, and his mouth on my nipples, and seeing his gorgeous and appreciative face was causing me considerable swelling. I continued kissing him, then placing my breasts in his open mouth, watching his eyes and feeling for twitches down below. There were plenty. I moved my hips against his, and rubbed myself against him, almost coming several times. Then he was on me, rubbing against me, touching my face softly, then kissing me hard. He seemed to like sucking. Lips (both sets), toes, fingers, nipples, neck, ears.

He literally kissed me all over, as he promised he would. Moving slowly down, kissing every inch of my body, smiling at me, looking for signs of my enjoyment, I told him he was amazing. I began to feel like I should be paying HIM. For the briefest moment, I thought of all the women (and men, and trans peeps) I know who are unsatisfied with their partners and with sex in general, and thought "here I am getting paid to be pampered and adored by a beautiful, intelligent man. How awesome is this?" These thoughts dissolved after a few seconds when he got down to my crotch area. I went to pull my panties down, but he said no, wait. I love to be teased. I love to take my time, and get lost in lips and arms, fingers and skin. I want to spend time smelling, tasting, listening and taking in as much as possible. He seemed to embrace this method as well. He kissed, nuzzled, nibbled all the way down to my stockinged feet. He pulled one stocking down, not without some difficulty, and I briefly worried about my (at that moment) unshaven legs. I hadn't shaved them for years. He either didn't notice or didn't care, and kissed, licked and caressed them anyways. He then lingered back up, and I really just wanted to kiss him, so I did. At some point during all of this, his pants came off, and he was clad in the cutest orange shorts.

My cell phone kept vibrating. My home phone kept ringing. I jumped up at one point, remembering, and ran to the door, locking it, afraid that my buddy was going to stop by (I forgot to tell him I had a client coming). I ran back, and told him "I don't want anyone coming in. I don't really feel like sharing you ". We kissed, both of us on our knees, and then lied back down. This began an intense session of him licking my clit, labia, vagina, nipples, thighs and more clit. Leg-shaking ensued. At one point, he had me move to the edge of the bed, propped a pillow under my ass, and went to town. He isolated my clit, and licked it perfectly, sometimes just barely, which was particularly amazing. When he started fingering me, I knew I would come, but not how I imagined. Something different happened today. It felt like I was going to pee, but I knew I didn't need to, so I just went with it. It felt like something came out of me. When asked, he said he noticed nothing, and then we kissed some more. I'm still not sure what happened, but I want it to happen again.

I reached down to his ample bulge and rubbed it very gently. I don't even remember taking his shorts off. He was very hard, ready and willing. I wanted to kiss him all over now, and I knew I was going to be keeping him beyond what he had paid for. Moving, not without some reluctance, away from his mouth, I sucked, licked and kissed his neck and ears. Continuing down, I brushed my face against his chest, letting the soft, short hairs tickle my nose and eyelashes, giggling as I had when he was licking my toes earlier. All the while, he was brushing my hair from my face, watching me watching him. Stomach, nibbled. Hips, kissed. Unable to ignore it any longer, I moved down to his crotch area, opening and getting between his long, strong legs. His erection was jumping at me, trying to get my attention, but I went to his thighs, smelling and kissing him. So appreciative he was. This is the ultimate aphrodisiac for me: Being adored, pleasured and explored, and then doing the same for my partner (the root, in fact, of my kvetching about the impossibility of simultaneously sucking and fucking a man's cock). Being down between his legs with my ass in the air, and hearing his moans were making me extremely wet and swollen. All I wanted was him inside me. I would start with my mouth.

I let my breath stir the hairs around his wonderful dick. I licked his balls so gently, I was a bit surprised he responded so instantly and enthusiastically. "Ohhhh wow... oh... that feels SO good". When I sucked one in my mouth, turned on by his scent and taste, he gasped for air. It's wonderful when the most nuanced of my touches are so appreciated and noticed. Some of my more subtle moves are lost on many. Eyes fixed on each other, I began to very gently flick my tongue against the base of his cock. Gasping again, he started to moan more loudly, which only encourages me and increases my desire to please him. It's so satisfying to be pleasing a partner who just pampered your entire body with passionate abandon. I kissed his cock as I had kissed his lips, slightly wet, gently and with feeling, and then more deeply, moaning, sucking. His responses were my reward. I moved up and down in this way, not giving in and just plunging the whole length of him into my warm mouth. Just delicate kisses, licks and vibratory moans.

Finally, I moved up, made my mouth slick with spit, and gently licked the head of his penis. His moaning got louder, and he had an almost desperate look on his face. After a minute of this, I wet my lips and wrapped them around the head of his cock. I just held it in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, slowly, then faster, taking my cues from his moaning. Finally, wanting to drive him wild, I let my mouth slide down the entire length of his cock, very slowly, until a minute later I had all of him inside my mouth. It was twitching violently, and I knew if I kept going much longer he would climax. And I still wanted him inside my pussy, which was dripping, open and ready. I sucked him lovingly for a few minutes then moved back up to kiss him. He leaned forward to meet my lips with his. I melted into his arms again and began touching him all over.

"Please tell you're going to let me fuck you" I asked him, stroking him up and down slowly. He pulled me close, kissing me, and said "yes, please", with wide, innocent eyes. Smart me bought Magnums™ today and I ran out of the room once again to grab them. Out of the wrapper, I rolled it all the way down, practically salivating, and with an intense throbbing in my cunt. I sat on him and pushed his hand away, knowing he would slide effortlessly into me. He was rock hard and I was soaking wet, and sure enough, with my tongue in his mouth, his cock slowly filled me up. "Oh! My god! You're so tight!" he cried and closed his eyes. As I moved upwards, he looked at me, and we kissed and moaned and things, typically, become a bit blurry at this point. I slid up and down on him, slowly, then sitting up, letting him see and touch my nipples and breasts, then coming down and positioning one over his willing, sucking mouth. He opened his legs slightly, and began thrusting faster. Then he slowed down, pulling me as close to him as possible. Then I started bouncing up and down on him, savoring the delicious hardness inside me, and I felt his cock begin to expand. I bounced lightly on him, and his eyes expanded, and a look of agony mixed with ecstasy came over his face. His eyes closed, and I could feel him pulsing and throbbing inside of me. "Did you come?" I asked hopefully, not certain because of how stiff he still felt. "Yes" he said "that was so.. fast.. I don't know why" as though it were a bad thing. I was terribly pleased that I'd made him explode with such ease. (Sidebar: men, there is no need to be ashamed of climaxing "too soon". As long as you stick around and take care of your partner, and wait until you're hard/ready to go again, what's wrong with enjoying the release? I think it's the "spill n'split" that we mostly have a problem with, at least in my humble opinion). "I have that effect on the boys" I told him, making him laugh, grabbing me and kissing me deeply.

I grabbed the condom, and slid off his still-twitching member slowly, stroking it lightly, moaning at the site of the filled condom. I lay down beside him as his arm wrapped around me. Time check: we were 25 minutes over what he'd paid for. I didn't care. "I could do this all night" he told me, and I knew he meant it. While I generally do not allow clients to stay over for free, on a couple of rare occasions, when the connection was intense enough and the timing felt right, I gave into my intimate desires. "I guess this is what they call chemistry huh? They tried to teach me in school, but I think they had it all wrong" he said sweetly.

Tempted, I was. But life was calling. We kissed and caressed each other for about fifteen minutes more, laughed, joked and chatted and then I knew I had to prepare for the evening ahead. So, reluctantly, and after an interesting dialogue surrounding my bookshelf, he was dressed, looking insanely handsome, and gently stroking my face. "You're the total package" I told him, and explained to him why he was a unicorn. "You're straight. You're funny, handsome, intelligent, amazing in bed, and SINGLE. Basically, you do not exist. And um, you have a really great horn too" grabbing his crotch and pulling him towards me. "You're going to have throw me out, or I'll stay here all night" he said and after a five minute kiss goodbye, I watched his tall frame walk out the door, leaving me alone with my memories and wishes that one day a man like that will ask me out on a real and proper date. One day. It will happen one day!

Oh Pluto

Before you start reading this smutty goodness below, do yourself a favor and push play:-}


I love it when after making love with someone new, I get all aflutter (literally, down below) when remembering the deed. Tonight is one such time. I can not get my client from earlier out of my head. We shall call him The C.O. His face, roundish, soft, friendly. The way he kissed: Lightly, then deeply, then peckish, and gentle. Nothing turns me on like good kissing and compatibility. He had me engulfed in seconds and then we meet putty Janelle. His smell (soap, cologne, sweat) quite literally made me dizzy with lust. I've had some very hot encounters as of late, but this somehow satisfied me in a different sort of way.

I lay down and watched him get undressed. He laid down beside me, and we smiled. We embraced, and kissed, and I enjoyed the feel of his skin, his smell, the hair on his chest. My subtle gasps and sighs were not lost on him. He noticed it all, and seemed appreciative of what I had to offer: affection, humor, soft skin, responsiveness and warmth. The kissing was just splendid.

And then he went to my breasts, and found my nipples. Soon my top was off and most of me exposed and he licked and sucked my nipples, with me watching his gorgeous face. His fingers, delicately, expertly, on my ever-expanding cunt. Without letting the flow stop, he went down, closer, licking, lightly, barely at all, teasing me, and fingering my clit. It's usually only when I'm alone that it gets so hard and exposed.

"Lie down" I told him. I wanted his cock in my mouth. I'd been rubbing it, feeling it twitch and grow. I kissed him some more, tongue in his ear, moaning lightly, breathing, arms all over him. I kissed his neck, fingers, shoulders, chest, nipples, stomach, thighs... and then I reached his cock, and i tried to tease him as he'd done to me, but I am greedy and I just wanted it all. I licked him slowly, starting with his balls, and gently, teasingly, working my way up, until he was in my mouth. I sucked him until I had to kiss him again, coming up to twirl my tongue around his. I just could not get enough, and I contemplated cuffing him and keeping him prisoner (voluntarily, of course).

Now he was standing on the bed, cock in my face. To reach it properly, I got on my knees. It slid right in my mouth and I sucked him eagerly, feeling him get rock hard in my mouth. All I could think of was how it was going to feel inside my pussy. I reached down to my clit and began rubbing. It didn't take long, feeling him expand and move in my mouth, for me to explode. I sort of mumbled I was coming and he laughed, pleased. I told him I would feel tighter now when he was fucking me. My pussy always feels tighter, and I love to get fucked right after I come.

After some lubing, he slid inside bent over me, with him standing at the edge of the bed. I think I gasped, it felt amazing. I squeezed his dick with my strong muscles, in and out. When he fucked me, just shallow, and pinched my nipples, I almost came again. Then he was deep inside me, barely moving, just breathing, moaning and lightly pushing. And then he started with the slow fucking. This just sends me whirling. My head gets dizzy. It feels like ... I don't know what it feels like, and I'm not sure how to describe it. Only a few have ever fucked me like he fucked me today. I want more now. Right now. I'm actually not content with only a recent memory, but I will make do with what I've got. I want to feel his cock getting bigger, and his slow thrusting, at a steady pace. I knew when he was coming, I could feel it. I want to feel that again, but this time I want to see his face when he lets it go.

I want to ride him. Nice and slow. Seeing his eyes aglow and kissing his lips.

Two of my weaknesses...

1. BSG Eye Candy(no pun intended)
2. Slow fucking.


I am totally engorged right now. I can not get this experience out of my head, nor do I want to. I've been busy all night, yet highly distracted. Now I finally have the chance to lose myself in recent memories.

And this really hot guy appeared to be following me around the supermarket at Spadina/Bloor. I could feel his eyes on me, and he was so cute I just uh.. buh...

What a day. Is it wrong to just want to line them all up and sample them, one by one? Also, I've started taking condoms on bike rides. You never know, right?

client=missed

Can't stop thinking about one of my clients.

I've had many passionate and amazing encounters, but there was something so intense about our couplings... even getting his cum all over my sheets, face and hair (it flew, accidental) still turns me on (though at the time I was a bit shocked).

Not sure what it is about him. Besides his brains, good looks, interesting opinions and book recommendations. I just melt into his arms and submit to his strength and I LIKE IT.

Really hope I see him again, and soon. And hopefully he knows who he is ;) Hopefully weed hasn't affected his memory...

The worst thing? I forget his name!! I never forget names!!

Now I am so hungry and off on my bike. Where to stop for brekkies??

The To-Do List, by Smutty

So, I asked friend to assign me tasks. And aside from a suggested chicken laying video, I got nothing. Complaining about the lack of response sent Smutty into action. He sent me this list of tasks to perform. As promised, any tasks that were relatively legal, safe and possible were to be completed.

I received these requests on August 3, 2010, and as of yet have completed mostly none (edit. I am now making good progress). I will be updating these as I complete them. Without further adieu, I give you ze list (and as to WHY I volunteered myself as a guinea pig in my own experiment? I was feeling blah and was looking to be challenged and/or amused)

TASKS

A) advertise (any of) your freelance services through a channel you've never used. Track the results.
Working on it

B) get yourself off in 5 different parks throughput the next 5 days.
It technically took 6 days to complete this task. Today was a busy day.

Thursday, August 5
#1 Irene Avenue Park
Irene Ave, Toronto, ON
Circa 11:40PM
Was wearing short shorts and my hand just slid easily in. This was by far my boldest attempt, with houses and apartments surrounding on three sides. A very strange man came by soon after I finished and mumbled at me.

Friday, August 6, 2010
FAILED ATTEMPT
Dovercourt Park
Salem Ave., Toronto, ON
Circa 2:30PM
I had a little vibrating egg in my pants, but it was broad daylight. As soon as I got a groove going, two girls came and sat close enough to make me lose my groove, puffing on a joint they were. A seemingly stoned and swervy hipster passing directly in front of me, plus the mis-adjustment of the egg sealed the no-climax deal.

Monday, August 9, 2010
#2 North West Donlands trail, wooden plank bridge
Don Lands Bicycle and Walking path, Toronto, ON
Circa 4:00PM
I found this little spot today seeking shelter from the downpour. I was soaked, so I whipped my top off to ring it out. This aroused me. Yanked up my bra, breasts exposed, and came very quickly.

FAILED ATTEMPT
Geary Parkette
Geary Ave., Toronto, ON
Circa 11:30PM
I was spotted by a person on a balcony and lost my nerve. And then the cutest guy came by and we checked each other out. I regret not saying hello as I cycled past him. Considered flashing but knew it wouldn't meet the list parameters.

FAILED ATTEMPT
Dufferin Grove Park
Dufferin Street, Toronto, ON
Circa 11:55PM
Toronto parks are very, very well lit. And noisy. Lots of noises after it rains. Not to mention, many city parks are actually populated at night, people sleeping, kissing, etc.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010
FAILED ATTEMPT
Fred Hamilton Park
Shaw Street, Toronto, ON
Circa 12:10AM
Never even dismounted from my bike except to drink water. Very small park, and I noticed a couple on bikes.

#3 Bickford Park
Circa 12:20AM
Successfully rubbed one out amidst fog, while people roamed in the valley below, dogs barking, with the help of Nite Line, the sexier pick-up line!

#4 Dovercourt Park (see above)
Circa 12:45AM
Had something resembling a G-spot orgasm here. Was quite noisy with this one, even moaned, and I was exposed with bright lights and only a small shed to provide shadow and cover. Gave myself extra points for this one, while I didn't have a "technical orgasm".

#5 Hillcrest park
Christie and Davenport, Toronto ON
Circa 1:15AM
Again, the lovely masturbators on Nite Line helped me out. The park was pretty dark, and I was facing wooded areas, and had houses way behind me. People generally sleep in this park, and I considered the possibility that someone sleeping on a bench could have seen me. I don't think anyone was there, or saw me, but it's hard to tell. This was hands down the best orgasm of the night. My leg was wide across the bench and I was very exposed and swollen. I seemed to have sprayed cum, I felt like I did, but I found no actual evidence of this.

C) have a day without any sugar, weed, alcohol or other drugs this week, during which you drink at least 3 liters of water and get to sleep before 10:30.
Not sure I can do this one. I completed this but for one small joint and getting to bed at 11PM.


D) arrange 1 hr or more of massage for yourself
Um.... can't afford this at the moment, and I have no one in my personal life I am comfortable having massage me. I got a nice foot massage from several clients. They may total close to an hour in all.

E) do somebody else's dishes.
I did all of the dishes in the sink at work last week. Took about 2 minutes.

F) respond to a personal ad.
Done x 5. I'm on a dating site, so I've responded to a few. For the most part, I don't get answers to the ones I contact. I am talking to one guy who has piqued my interest, though he contacted me first.

G) pick a political topic that you feel strongly about, around which opinions and suggested tactics break down easily into a relatively simple binary split: either A or B. Research the side of the split that you don't support and write down 8 good reasons why that perspective is valid.

(I fully support the decriminalization of all types of CONSENSUAL sex work)
Valid reasons why sex work should not be decriminalized (not sure I can do 8, but let's try):
1. Pimps, traffickers, exploiters of sex workers will arguably have fewer obstacles.
2. The risk exists of corporatization of the industry if it becomes legal and more marketable to the mainstream population.
3. The possibility exists of further inflaming the problem of sexualization of young kids, especially girls, if sex work is glamorized as a result of legalization.
4. The government (or corporate entity/contractor) could impose ghastly fees on sex workers, similar to a stripper's license.
5. Sex workers could be unfairly targeted by public health as engaging in high-risk behavior
6. Anyone? Any other valid reasons?
LEGALIZE IT!


H) expose yourself to the patrons of a bar patio
This is going to take some time. I want to get proof of this, so I will need an accomplice.


I) get yourself off imagining an action or scene that you believe you'd never, ever do. Keep that imagined action at the forefront of your mind the entire time you're masturbating.
Thuggish, sexist, macho type guys. Not even very attractive. Fucking me every which way. Anal, mouth, breasts, no condoms. Cumming all over me, in me, in my hair, eyes, nose. Spitting on me, talking ridiculously pornish dirty talk (ooh yeah, suck that big dick, you like that big cock huh bitch/slut, for example), violent, rough, disrespectful, and pressuring me to do things I'd already refused.

J) compliment 3 strangers about something they're doing or wearing that genuinely impresses you.
1. To the (very handsome) man dressed as a Napoleonic-type guard, I cried as I passed on my bike: "You look AWESOME!" He did.
2. I complimented some people in a car on Yonge Saturday night about the music they were playing. "Nice tunes!". I think they thought I was being sarcastic.
3. I complimented various women on their nails


H) let a female stranger catch you staring at their body. Lick your lips and keep staring.
There was a girl on the subway last week, but also last night. Old Weston, just south of Rogers. She was walking south on the East side. She noticed but sadly did not look back. The woman on the subway seemed not to notice.

I) write out the details of the imagined action you would never do and describe the process of getting yourself off thinking about it. Keep fingerprints, identifying details about yourself, hair, skin, etc off the paper if the scene you describe is going to alarm people. Leave the paper in a busy public place.
I'm trying to decide where to leave it.

K) spend an hour nonstop doing nothing but admiring yourself in the mirror.
Harder than it sounds, but I accomplished this the week before last. Everyone should do this. I came twice, to make the time pass, and to keep from falling asleep. My legs are strong and getting quite toned. Hand puppets are great listeners. I feel a presence around me. Damn Ouija boards.

Subbie

I met a true submissive the other day. It's been so long since I was with one, I kind of floundered. I wasn't really in Dom mode. And I'm really more of a switch anyways.

With subs, I must always remember to hold a lot back. If you give them too much, they never come back.