Not The Guy I Think I am

So, my last many postings are about my adventures during massages. And that for me it is the perfect balance to not really cheat, as my wife also provided permission for this solution to the absence of sex in our marriage (for the ones just checking in, because of a medical condition, sex is not something she can have often anymore) as long as it is by manual stimulation.

So, yes, I am such a perfect husband. Offering up my own desires to this partial solution that will get me through the time until I am permanently limp in about two decades :)

Well, nope.

Although I love the massages, and especially the one I have described in the posting before that was something amazing that still ranks very high on my list. I made the mistake to, at one moment, look happy ending massages up online. And there were two things I saw; the grainy hidden camera work showing what I also experienced; happy endings performed by hand until the release.
And then there were the high quality 'hidden cam' work that showed these overly beautiful girls that would halfway undress themselves, and end up going from manual stimulation to vaginal stimulation. Yeah, right! Not only that; but the 'hidden cam' also was able to change position all by itself? And in positions that you saw perfectly fine the girl reverse-cowgirl-ing the guy? Not a chance in hell!

Right?

Right!

I knew this was porn-fake. I absolutely did. Not in a massage parlor. But somehow I got to a blog of a massuese who indeed provides manual stimulation to her clients, and was addressing the 'full service' parlors and how to recognize them. She mentioned that the notion of a 'table shower' or the word 'acupressure' instead of 'acupuncture' are signs that they are full-service parlors.

They were real?

Also, she mentioned how they are not parlors but more brothels.

Fuck. Now this was on my mind. No, I should not. I did so very well of just doing this with the happy ending massages. I did not need to get my mind infested with these ideas. And the good guy that I am, I would not continue any research more in this area.

So, two weeks later I called up this parlor about half an hour away from my work. I had done my research, and this one actually got great reviews. Oh, sure, all kinds of reviews that describe everything in code-words. So, with just the research that I did and the deciphering of the code words, I thought I would do well. I read about the beauty of the girls, their 'soft services' etc. So as if asking a girl out for a very first date, I called up with my heart beating in my throat. I got a woman on the phone, asking if it was my first time, and that she was happy to have me over that afternoon and one of the masseuses would help me.

So, here I was. Trying to convince myself that I was just trying to find a new masseuse now that my favorite had moved to Nevada. Why do we guys do this? Trying to convince ourselves that we don't do anything wrong, and that it is just thrown in our laps? Sigh. Sometimes I am amazed by my own stupidity and ignorance.

Anyway. I ended up at this strip mall. Actually, a quite upscale one as well. But no massage parlor.

Not even in the back. I had no idea. So I called as the ignorant fool I was, mentioning to the lady on the phone that I had no clue if I was in the right area, as she mentioned to me to go to this office and come in. I was looking amazed. There it was, hidden in plain sight. I would never expected this to be something else than a contractors office building. I walked in, had to ring a bell, and an older Asian woman opens the door, very politely, and guides me through a very clean and well maintained beautiful building and gets me into a room. She mentioned that 'she' would be with me in a moment.

And there I was. And had no clue what to do. With my regular legit massage I know to get naked, under the covers and just lay there. With my slightly less legit massage I know I have to get naked, lay on the bed and forget the covers. Here? I had no clue. So I stood there. Waiting.
After a couple of minutes in comes this beautiful woman, in a gorgeous dark green corset, high heels and beautiful long fishnets. When I say beautiful, she was more beautiful than the overly beautiful ladies I saw in the porn movies about the massages. And she was surprised why I was not undressed.

I confessed to her, I had no experience in this, and was quite nervous. She looked at me, probably with a slight hint of a red flag, who knows if I was from law enforcement. But she decided to help along. Mentioned to me to pay the house fee up front, and then while she would handle that, I would get undressed and wrap myself in the towel she pointed out. And so I did.

She came back, got me out of the room and guided me, while I held on to my towel for dear life, to a spacious luxurious bathroom.  Within it was a table that she had just cleaned (with my spouse being an MD, I am very well aware that 'cleaning' would not clear off the previous guy's germs  completely ;) But then, I am a guy, so, I did not wonder about that. It looked clean: good enough!).
She had me lay down and started to shower me, turn me over, joking slightly of that I am hard and that that was not her doing... really? I mean, I know what I got myself into, but do those lines and jokes really work on people. On the other hand, I did not care, because I made likely a stupid remark as well.
I had to admit, I loved her touch. Playful, not really massaging there, but I guess you did not come here to get a good massage. And after a while she dried me off, got me back into the room and asked me to lay down on the table again. And this was clearly a real massage table like the many others, only much wider. But it was comfortable, and laying on my front, she started to massage my back. Not bad actually. I was pleasantly surprised. Also when she climbed on the bed, sat down on my buttocks, and started to massage more thoroughly. The satin of her lingerie felt so good, and her firm thighs around me as well. Fuck, I wished every massage would be like this. And when she bent over I felt her bossom press against my shoulder blades. It just felt good. I would be the happiest guy if this was just it.

The flip-over came, and of course I could not hide my arousal. And she started massaging me. My legs, my belly, chest, arms, hands... ehm? She pushed it out of the way to massage the inside of my thighs, but there was no attention for my penis.
What the fuck?

"Is there anything else you would like me to put attention to?" she asked, as it was nearing the end of the massage. Fuuuuuuuck... I am terrible at this. I hoped this would just go nicely, but here I am, laying there, and she calling my bluff about being inexperienced. Well, I was, but I think she thought I was full of it.
So, stuttering, I mentioned that I would not mind if she might perhaps put a little bit of attention to my appendix showing a certain state of arousal. Softly, like I asked her something she never heard before, she touched me, held me softly. "This?"
I nodded and I think I croaked some kind of sound that should have confirmed my agreement.
"Ok" she said and she started to jerk me off softly.

And truth be told, she did that very nicely. Here was this beautiful woman in very sexy lingerie, giving me a wonderful hand-job.

But fuck. That is what I get at my not-so-legit place as well! And there she knows me, what touches I desire. I did not come here for that. And the clock already mentioned there were only 10 minutes left. No! Please, don't let her make me cum like this! Yes, I know, I am never satisfied ;)

"Can I... could you... can... please... see you naked?".

She stopped, looked at me as if I said something so very wrong. Put her finger in front of her lips.

"Please?"

Again, more firmly now, her finger in front of her lips and looking at me more seriously. Did I say something wrong? I had no clue.

She walked out of the room.

What the hell? I was confused, and most likely certain that a gorilla of a guy would walk in to throw me out because I might have said something that would have been against some kind of rules. Shiiiiiiiit!

The woman came back. Locking the door behind her. And she stood next to me and looked at me again, pressed her finger once more against her lips to show me to be silent, and started to undress.
Wow... I can honestly say she had the most perfect body I ever had seen. Beautiful in proportion, nicely tanned but not overdone, and absolutely amazing. She held up a little packet, tore it open with her teeth and removed a condom out of it.
"Lay back" she just said, and climbed on the other side of the table and crawled between my legs. I never had a condom be put onto me this quickly and professionally. And as she had done, she took me in her mouth and started giving me a blow-job.

Now, although like every other guy around, sex with a condom has its advantages: against STD's,
against pregnancy, and on top of that, you last longer. The negative, you only feel the pressure of the condom against your cock. No wonder we last longer, because you feel absolutely less, no matter what they say. But, in this case, this woman I did not know and who was clearly a professional, I was happy altogether already. But, the blow-job, even though it looked like she did it well, was hardly something I experienced. The visual though, to see her taking me inside of her mouth, was something that definitely made up for it.

She came up, crawled next to me and told me to move over, that she wanted to lay there and that I had to come on top of her. And there she was, gorgeous, all naked in all her beauty, her legs apart, and looking at me, smiling, and telling me to put it in her softly and not all the way because it would hurt. I thought that was some kind of 'making me feel good' talk because of course I have such an enormous one. But it actually seems to be that it was a bit too much. Fuck, she was so tight and she guided me with how far I could be inside of her. Far enough to feel absolutely amazing, even with the condom. And there she was, even if I would have felt nothing through the piece of rubber, it would have been amazing. I enjoyed every moment, and although I wanted it to last forever, she at one moment squeezed me so tightly that from the feeling that I could hold on for hours, in one thrust she got me to explode in her. Wow.... never experienced that before like that.

I noticed the time, our hour was over. But she told me to lay next to her for a bit. There was no rush, and I did. She cuddled up next to me, held me close, and we layed there, talked a little bit, for about 5-10 minutes. After that, she got dressed, as did I. Not completely conform the standards there, I guess, because she mentioned that she usually dresses her clients. I tipped her, and she guided me out, gave me a hug and a kiss at the door, and there I was.

So, yes. It is actually like those videos. The problem was now, that although it was absolutely wonderful, it did not feel right. So, a beautiful woman, very sexy, does everything I wanted, ended with some fantastic sex. And it just did not feel right.
Not in some 'guilty' kind of way - which I should because there is always the thought in my mind I just have taken advantage of this woman. Although I did not have the feeling she was not into it, or that she might not do this for all the right reasons; you never knew.
But it was not even that. And it was not a guilty feeling towards my wife, which I also of course should have. But I talked that up in my mind as this being not a relationship, not an affair, it was a one time thing.
No, it was like the same thing as with a one-night-stand. Worse. I paid, she pretended to like me. I was not special. She was. Not I. It was indeed just that, a business transaction. She had a product I wanted, and I was willing to pay for it.

Wow... that is when that feeling hit me. As gorgeous as I though she was, and perfect she was to me, I was just a guy. Who would have known that that feeling would hit me. And that was really the weird thing; it was just that, like going to a regular massage, there are therapists that I like, and ones that I did not. And like with any other job, that feeling would be the same for the therapists versus their clients.

Don't get me wrong, I did not fall in some kind of depression. I love to still have her on my mind. Because next time I will tell about that following experience over there... because even though that feeling caught me by surprise... it is a memory I still have fondly in my mind.

But... there is no doubt about it, my days that I would just be happy with the happy tug at the end seemed to be over.

Or weren't they?

Did I get the hots for my Masseuse?

It has been a while. Sit down, it is so nice to see you again. Yes, I know, too much time has gone by.
Yes, I remember writing about sex, liked my advice? Or the stories?
Good. I am glad you did.

Well, I was not able to keep that going? What not? Ah, the thing of being still this honorable guy, finding ways to incorporate some level of sex in my life outside of my marriage and still do it in such a way I would not feel guilty.

I failed miserably.

Oh, the marriage is fine. Better than it always has been. The sex still is most present by its absence and as I posted in my previous postings, over a year ago, is that I found a lot of release in the massages that provided me a happy ending. Actually, I shared this also with my wife, who actually did not mind. As long as it happened by hand, she saw it very much as a solution as well.
Keep in mind, as a refresher, we both knew very well that the void that existed in our sex life for my wife's medical reasons, had to be taken care of in some way to release that stress. And these massages seemed to be a wonderful solution to the problem. And they were.

One day, at the end of last year, I ended up with a problem at work; I sprained something in my back, and it hurt like hell. It was not something massive, but my left shoulder was all but working painlessly. But my regular legit massage place had a fully booked day. But, they mentioned, they also had a chain store actually close to my work. So I called them. And they would check what they could provide, as they had someone quit her job that morning, so they had a problem in their planning. They would call me back.
Ten minutes later I got that promised call. They could not take care of it, but, the masseuse that quit also had her own side-business, and she would take care of it if I wanted to based on the credit I had with the chain itself, and they would cover the costs out of my account. The only issue, I had to drive to her place which was in downtown Philly. I got her information, called her up, and she was nice and sounded proper, and would take care of me that evening.

When I arrived at the place, I wished that I had not. That was not downtown Philly, that was down and scary Philly. She was waiting on the front-porch, to help me get in. As it seemed to be, she did not have a side-business, but needed the money and planned to move back to Nevada. And she lived in with this family that clearly had money to spend on buying dope than spend on their kids.
The girl itself was a very nice, polite, and very talkative woman, blonde, semi-attractive but against better judgment I walked in. She guided me to her room upstairs and told me to undress and lay down on the table.

As appearances could deceive, she gave an absolutely amazing massage. Firm, but not too painful, and it helped. She could not walk around the table she had set up, so she stood on other furniture to actually get to me. And she kept talking, yap yap yap, but I cannot deny, the massage was great. Period. A solid legit massage and she put my shoulder back into working condition. During which I heard her life story, not a sobbing story, but one of a woman who knew she made all the wrong decisions, and now had to deal with the consequences, and she was. I liked her. Honestly liked her. Not my type of woman, but she was a strong, honest woman not taking shit from life.

I got dressed, she gave me a hug, and I was on my way.

And she was on my mind. Not in a sexual or romantic way. But I genuinely liked her, and with the holiday season coming up asked her that I would like to plan another massage before she would move out to Nevada, and that I would not mind paying her in advanced. She was happy, and send me her PayPal information to get her the $70 for the hour long massage.
Fuck it. She had two sons, I had seen where they lived and I had some extra left, so sent her some more and told her to spend it on some gifts for the holidays.

Two weeks later we had the massage planned, now in a hotel near my work as she stayed their until their trip a day later. She welcomed me excitedly. Told me how much I helped out and that she appreciated it so much and not ask for anything. She had me lay down on the table, and now she could walk around it, and massaged me. My back again done so perfectly. I honestly wished she still worked, because it is hard to find a masseuse that does everything right.
I turned over after I completely lost track of time, listening to her constant talking. I really liked her, her massage was perfect, but the talking. Opening my eyes I noticed that her jeans had gone and she was massaging me with her bra and panties on. I looked, but did not actually talk about it.
I heard more about the misery of her past. But again, not in a whiney way, a 'feel sorry for me' way, but literally like 'I have gone through that, I can beat anything'. A fire, and 3rd degree burns on her body.

What?
I had not seen these when I looked at her.
I told her so.

"Oh, absolutely", and she un-clipped her bra, and showed me a barely noticeable, but definitely a scar on her right breast.  Of course I had difficulties focusing on the scar. It looked almost like discolored skin than scar tissue.
"My body handles scars really well.", she said. Looking at it herself. "Touch it. You will feel it is really soft, and not thick as it usually is with people."

Fuck. She did ask it? Who am I to ignore it. And I touched her skin just above her aureola. It indeed felt like normal skin.

"Third degree?" I asked. I have seen scar tissue a lot before, and my wife being an MD had a lot of material about it as well. And never was a major scar almost so very well blended in the normal skin as it was with her.

"Don't believe me? I had both my boys with a c-section, and take a look." she said, and she pulled her panties a little bit down, not enough to see things that really started to interest me, but - well - what do you know. There was clearly the mark of a c-section, also discolored, but not the slightest bump.
I did ask softly, more because my throat dried up than anything else, if I could touch it.
"Sure", she said, got my hand and rubbed my fingertips over the scar but the panties snapped back over it.
"Wait". She pulled down her panties, stepped out of them, and placed my fingertips against it again. "See?".

By that time of course I had no interest in that piece of scar anymore. "Can I... touch it?" She looked at me with a smile, stood with her legs slightly further apart and said "Sure you can."

As I had my hands between her thighs, my fingers feeling the moist edge of her lips, it just all felt so weird. She continued massaging me, and nothing sexual about the way she touched me. Which could not be said about me. And she kept talking, even as a finger slid inside of her, and I felt how easily that insertion took place.
At one moment she stopped, looked at me, smiled and then softly touched me. Lotion was unnecessary; I have quite a lot of pre-cum. She gently played with me as my hands discovered all of her body.
Were my experiences with the other masseuse that once the soft touch starts it is ending pretty soon, this woman took her sweet time. Talked, giggled, massaged a bit regularly and then went back to her business pleasing me.

I asked her if I could maybe, please, lick her. And she told me I could not, those were services that she did not provide. I said I understood. I did, but my body did not.
It took actually an additional 30 minutes before she brought me to my climax.
She told me to keep laying down as she cleaned me up, then pointed me to the bathroom for a shower or a bath. I did, and as I came out, she came to me, still naked, hugged me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me that she loved it that I did not push myself on her and that she enjoyed my company. If it was real or not, maybe related to the elevated pre-payment did not matter, she honestly gave me a wonderful feeling. Besides giving me an awesome massage, an incredible sexual experience, she actually made me happy.

When I walked out I noticed that she has massaged me for almost 4 hours.

Sadly enough, like said, she moved back to Nevada. I actually still email with her, and she keeps me up to date how she is doing, how life is treating her, and sometimes those emails are very happy, sometimes heart breaking, but they still feel very honest.

(No, the photos don't show my masseuse, although she looked like her. I thank teentugs very much for letting me - eh - borrow - the photos :) )

My Impossible Wish List

It is already spring and a while ago since I did my last post. It maybe not so weird as very little has happened over the last couple of months. I have been extremely faithful which is actually a good subject here.

When I had encounters with other women, sometimes as a relationship, sometimes as a business deal as a 'service' or during a massage visit where at least part of my desires were satisfied. It sounds so weird but I very well understand that what I am looking for is most likely something I will never find. And that idea starts to settle.

Yes, I have to admit, the massages are a real relief.

As I wrote in earlier postings is that I indeed find a lot of relieve now with massages and visiting an escort. But that is simply satisfying on a physical level. Don't get me wrong, I personally think it is a great way to find that relieve while not getting involved into something disastrous. Better yet, believe it or not, my wife is actually up to date about it as well.
If you have followed my earlier postings, the sexless situation in our marriage is not completely unexpected, and having a sexual connection going on outside of the marriage that does not involve 'feelings' is also something she saw as a good solution.

But that also made it very clear, sex is just 'sex' if no feelings are involved. I loved being with the escort; she was cute, sweet and very sexy. My masseuse is sweet, cute, not very sexy but gives a hell of a massage and knows what makes me feel exceptionally satisfied.

But the problem is, nothing is expected of me. Oh, to fork over the dough, of course. It is not a bad thing; because it indeed gives me all the love at home, and all the sex as a service. So, perfect solution, no?

Well, no.

With an escort, it is almost like 'shopping' which is actually
what I did not like so much. The woman was beautiful in a girl-next-door
look, but still, it is too arranged. Too, weird.

As I said, nothing is expected of me. During the massage I am just laying on the table, have to turn over when my masseuse tells me, and just be showered and trimmed when I arrive. She'll take care of everything else.

The escort filled me with all the praise. That she loved more heavyset guys that have chest hair. She loved everything about me, even let me kiss her and kissed back passionately. And I loved licking her, cannot help it, but I also wanted to prove myself to her.
But I do not know if everything was real, and I assume it was not. Who knows. It does not matter.

But that is the problem, I want it to matter. Sex with someone who wants you badly, just like you want that someone, is something so very special. The desire to be with that person, touch her, discover her... the real passionate lust. Not lust for sex, but the lust for that someone.

And that makes what I am looking for so much more difficult to find and that I am starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, I will be settling for just what is happening right now.
Because I want to feel passionate for a woman, love her without the love as in a relationship. And I want her to feel absolutely the same towards me. Discrete, beautiful, sexy, and desiring the companionship as much as I do while also understanding that being married brings in a lot of agenda collisions.

So, if you dissect that wish-list completely, it is like asking for world-peace and the perfect apple-strudel a la mode at the same time. It is not going to happen.

Ah, but then, don't you need to set your aim high?

My friend Porn, meet my other friend Erotica!

Let's just talk a little bit of porn here. Just, plain porn. As you might have guessed from my last couple of postings, porn has played a very big part in my life. Porn is like my best friend who still doesn't remember my name after 35 years of loyalty. Porn is the friend I like to hate, but can't live without.

Gorgeous erotica, (c) PK-FOTO.nl

My friend porn is a bit jealous of my friend Erotica. And to put it all in perspective, let's say my friend Porn is a dude, and my friend Erotica is this sweet girl next door that my wife is not allowed to know that I love to spy on her. Because, well, Erotica is also a good friend of my wife. My wife doesn't mind Porn, but always likes it if he leaves again.

The problem is, Erotica, sweet as she is, she always brings Porn along, but he always shows up late, while Erotica shows up on time. In other words, Erotica always is followed by porn.

I love erotica. I have loved it from the very first moments that I saw it. Don't be mistaken, it is different than watching naked women. I can see a naked woman, and it might not have the impact that well made erotica does. When seeing a naked woman, even if she is beautiful; if I am not in the mood, it might look beautiful, but it is not having such an impact. Erotica is showing a woman (or a man) in such a way that it arouses you. Erotica doesn't have to be explicit, it doesn't even have to be nude or partially nude. Erotica can be created with a look in a woman's eye directed towards the viewer. It is lifting the skirt just a little bit so that you see the line of her lingerie. Well done erotica is the perfect balance of showing something that makes you warm inside, has that tingling feeling creep up on you softly, and takes your mind of the every day problems and get them into a state of arousal and happiness.
I always, without a single exception, am happy after seeing erotica.

So, actually, officially and biologically, this doesn't
make any sense. But fuck... it is sexy!
(c) julesjordan.com

Porn is different. Porn is not about the mood, it is about the explicitness, seeing every beautiful body in actually a very natural way. We always say that erotica is more like how sex should be, but, well, from nature's point of view it seems that porn is more biological sensible than erotica is. Alright, this statement immediately falls flat on its face because porn became a lot more than just showing people 'procreate'. Fucking each other to produce a next generation. I mean, squirting a fresh load of semen on a woman's face does nothing to populate this planet. Actually, biologically, it shows that a man might not even be intelligent enough to keep his cock inside of her until he ejaculates. I mean, sorry, but have you ever been in a woman? Reaching that orgasm? Where do people get the strength to actually pull it out? I don't know if I should be in awe of these people, or that I should start worrying about the average level of our next generation?

But even though porn might be littered with things that make no sense to the way of the world; anal sex is not helping her get pregnant (let's hope not), nor does watching a woman play with herself with a wide arsenal of toys. Better yet, lesbian sex, or homosexual or bi-sexual sex, also does not really do anything to do things, but fuck, it can be so good to watch!

More erotica, going far, but, still pretty tasty.

Erotica, however, makes in that perspective no sense at all. It is the teasing, but not really following up to the promise. It is like building up to a cliff-hanger that never get's a next episode. It is great to get into the mood, even stay in the mood, but I guess here is going to be the difference between the majority of men and the majority of women. Men love to then zoom in on more. We love to see the erotica, I think there is no man who doesn't like it, but after that, we want to see more. And the moment we get beyond that point, we just want to see it, in all detail, explicit and everything. Don't get me wrong, I know a lot of women also like to see it, but I personally don't believe that there is any guy who can stick with just erotica, while I know a lot of women who do.

In the beginning I was more or less joking with my wife not liking my friend Porn. But, it is not completely true. Although I have mentioned that our marriage has some kinks that sadly cannot be straightened out, we both love Erotica and Porn. And my wife understands very well that Porn is more my friend than hers, she still can get along with him. We love it actually so much that our house is also filled with antique nudes, and we have collections of erotic literature and also magazines. We love to take photos of models, trying to create photos that are a perfect balance between erotica and porn. Something that shows a lot, is explicit enough, but not going over the deep end.

I do like going over the deep end. Oh, you can show me anything if I am in the mood; it cannot be explicit enough, with any kind of bodily fluid involved, at any location, dressed in whatever or without whatever clothing and with whomever or whatever. Of course I would like to show myself with a little more class, but come on, who am I kidding?

There is not a single one of you who can say this is not erotic, and not pornographic, at the same time. Fuck, the ladies from
X-Art.com are in my opinion the first ones who really are getting close to get it down to an art. Wow!

But, that balancing on the edge of erotica and porn, is actually very interesting. And there is not a lot out there of it. It should be naughty, it should be explicit, it should be like what if Erotica and Porn had a love-child. There is not enough of that.

Sooooo... for the first time I will actually invite you readers that if you know erotica that in your idea meet this criteria, respond to this posting. Of course, that is for all of you that made it through another one of my lengthy articles ;)

Enjoy!

Did I Really Visit An Escort? - Massage part II

Sometimes I really have to come back to what I have written before. And without me getting in my old postings and just modifying something, I think it is much more interesting simply to follow it up with another posting. Just as much fun.

A couple of postings ago I described of how getting a massage became a good alternative to my cheating lifestyle. And it actually is, although I have stopped the massage therapist that I was seeing and that I wrote about earlier. The simple fact is that it still did not feel as if it was a good alternative to what I was lacking. But, what was it that I was lacking?

It is easy to think that I was lacking sex. Which, of course, is true, but I also keep writing about how the mind is the most sexual organ, and with that, I do get enough sex at home. My wife and I are very open about sex, the problem is, she simply cannot have it. Period. But, on the other hand, I didn't like the fact to have sex without any passion. It made me felt empty and really bad.

So, yes, make up your mind! I could not really describe what I was missing. Well, I could, which is a connection with someone, very passionate, who loves all the attention, but also doesn't want a boyfriend, but also is completely open to my schedule, and is completely discrete.

Yes. I know. I ended up visiting an escort. The thing I thought I would never do, I did. And even though it is a couple of months ago now, I still don't know what to think of it. It was actually incredibly great, but also very weird, and not the way I thought it would be weird.
At one moment, I simply started looking around online, seeing if there was someone and what possibilities it might have. Just to play it out in my imagination. Of course, my better part of my ego warned me a gazillion times about safety, what if it is not a girl at all, or what is I am robbed, or even if she doesn't look the way she looks in the photo, or, of course what if it is a police officer?

But, as many men can describe you, once a thought has entered a man's mind about sex, it will dig in deep, nest in there, and will hang on like a leech until you keel over with a heart-attack. And at one moment just looking around online, there was this ad of this girl. And she looked fantastic. In my opinion at least. Not a model at all, but a very normal, but wonderful girl. Loveliest smile, fabulous eyes. Find me weird or not, but that is what does it for me. The smile and the eyes. I don't care about breast size or being very thing at all. You win me over with a smile.

Of course, I already painted this 'worst case scenario' that she actually had a beard, a gut and a voice that would make water boil. But, blood was flowing where it drained it from my brain, and I found myself sending her a message on the phone number that was listed. Fool! Stupid idiot. There I went, already giving out personal information.
And I almost immediately received a message back. She was able to receive me that afternoon after work, and even though the amount became more than listed, I was not in any condition to mention that, especially because the only words I would have been able to utter were 'bwahumba' and 'urghidastic'.

Even driving over there, my mind was racing and telling me all the time to just turn the car around, but no, I drove up to the address she mentioned and saw, next door, a bunch of guys sitting on their bikes and indeed, thought it was not the right thing to do. So I drove on. My mind taking the right decision. Until her message that she was outside, waiting for me and if I was in the area already. So, I decided to drive by one more time, and noticed the address was actually a couple of houses off. And there she was. Exactly like in her picture.

I parked, got out, and walked up to her. She greeted me with a wonderful smile and hugged me, and guided me inside... of this horrible apartment building. Well, it was a beautiful old house - once - and now it housed a couple of apartments. Getting over the stuff on the stairs was painful but eventually we arrived at the attic apartment. It was messy, stuff everywhere, but at least clean. And, well, she was there, almost just as nervous as I was.
When the door was closed, she immediately took of her clothes, stammered some words and then actually greeted me. This made me feel so much more relaxed, because clearly it was not my first time either. Well, after a bit of talking, it seemed it was not her first time as well, but she was anything from experienced. And it showed. Not because of her performance, but simply because she was way too honest about having just lubed up - which for a guy of course is not the thing you want to know. Of course I know that she is not naturally wet from a guy she just met, and not only that, attracted to just any guy. And although I will mention here that I don't think I am an unattractive guy at all, I might also not be just anyone's taste.

But she was overly complimenting on things that I know were fake, but she actually pulled it off so well that I really started to doubt. Which, of course, is also what I wanted. I don't want to have the idea that I am rejected but for the love of money, just come on! I want to have the feeling that I am the best thing on earth at that moment.

She had a stunning body. Very easily the most gorgeous body I had my fingertips run along. Her breasts were perfect, even though I am not a breast person. And wonderfully shaven. Her body was cold though, cool, which my mind just saw as a good thing because it was warm in the summer. See how you can make a good thing of something obviously pointing out she was not really into me.

She was asking immediately also if I would fuck her. But I was not here with such a beautiful girl just to hump and leave. That is not what I was here for. But I was afraid that it would be that. I asked if we just could cuddle a bit, and - although I knew the answer already - wouldn't mind kissing. If you read more of my postings, you know that kissing is extremely sexy to me. Surprised I was when she said she wouldn't mind kissing at all. More doubt. Was this then an act? Or not? Oh, I actually loved that game of confusion in my mind.

She was a good kisser, not fantastic, but a lot better than what I was used to. And the moment for me was when I asked her if I could lick her. Which she hesitantly agreed to, but with the warning that she did get lubed up, so, she might taste bitter.
Well, real men do not care! And she still tasted amazing. And I loved it. I love love love licking a woman. Just, give me that and I am a happy guy. And there, I was a happy guy. And she actually became a really happy girl. I was so proud of myself! Sure, I may brag. And I will brag.

Oh, a facial photographed like this always works.
In reality... slightly different.

She became much more talkative after that. We laid for quite some time simply in each other's arms. She played around with my dick a bit, and just talking a bit. About her, the apartment, actually about her boyfriend (yes, we did) and how she mentioned she would love, after that meeting was over, to visit other times too. Look, you don't have to convince me; it is a business transaction, and the sales she did, was amazing.
I was happy, yes, even without the fucking. The licking of such a beautiful woman was what it was for me already. I wouldn't care. When we were way beyond the hour we agreed to, she took me in her mouth, and very slowly started giving me the very first blow-job in my life that was absolutely amazing. Most blow-jobs I have had were okay at best, an occasional good, but this one was what a man dreams about. Her hands moving softly, her lips wet, her tongue delicious. And no hurry at all. For at least 10 minutes she did this before starting to increase the movements. She was laying on her side, jerking me off  until I reached my orgasm, which was a bit more powerful than she expected and actually hit her straight up her nose. Yep, a wonderful erotic experience, shooting a rope of sperm right up a girls nostril, who immediately gasps, trying to catch a breath, and coughs and runs to the bathroom snorting her nose, then come in howling with laughter.

And this is why I still don't really know about if this was a great experience or not. I know it is work for her, and a lot of the positive parts were simply her doing her job. But some moments were simply just so memorable. I did not fuck her, even though she offered it multiple times, I just loved the licking her, her orgasm ( which was the reason why she ended up giving an extra 40 minutes above the paid hour because she told me she had problems fucking after an orgasm ) the laying there and the unexpected ending of it.

The issue is, it is because it went like that that I liked it, but I was very sure that another time would be different. If I would have had sex with her, it would be me just humping her, while she was simply hoping it would be over. I am not an idiot, like anyone who works, we are all waiting for the time to go home. As was she. No doubt.

Well, if you read the story, you know it did not end like this... a lot less - ehm - classy ;)

So as fun as that experience was, and being with such a beautiful young girl, it still would not be the solution. There would be something else to be found... and I seemed to have found it a couple of months later which I will write about next time in the third part of the Massage story.

Porn and old media...

I received an message earlier today asking me if I would still be blogging since I did not write for such a long time. And it actually hit me then, that is has been a long time. And while this person and I were writing for a bit, the subject of VHS came up... the old plastic cartridges and the tape inside you learned to fix with tape to keep watching the dirty movies you encountered.

Although I have read nudie magazines from very early on, and already discovered the book 'the Joy of Sex' on my parents' bookshelf. But I never actually thought there was anything about sex beyond that. In my young mind, and I talk way, way before I experienced the pleasures of touch myself, I simply did not connect those dots just yet.
The girls in the magazines, Playboy and Penthouse in my dads magazine subscription suitcase he got from work once a week, simply were nude. And that is already where I laid down my preference for the Penthouse magazine, because there I could see far better between the legs.

And that is also when suddenly, one morning when that suitcase had to be returned to the office, one magazine was missing. It was the December 1986 issue of the Penthouse.

Just to make very sure, I actually had to do some research for which issue it was, and it took me some whole 5 minutes to figure it out.

From that moment, the American Penthouse was my magazine. And living in Europe, being a kid not even reaching an age with two digits yet, it was amazing.

Once I actually hit those two digits and I experienced the first pleasures of an orgasm, forget it, it was ON! As most likely any guy out there, it has resulted as likely the only source of steady exercise a guy gets. But I always loved the magazine. And I was not against Playboy, or later the Hustler when I discovered it, but at that moment, I was in love.

The 'love' part came mostly because of the centerfold Jill Shawntai. That magazine lasted throughout most of my teenage years until at one ridiculous moment I decided to 'clean up' and trash my whole

collection of magazines. I have then also to admit that the photo to the left taught me more about the
female genitalia than anything else. I have studied this photo as if it was homework. Sure, right now it is nothing special anymore that you will not see if you stay for three seconds on Google and fill out any anatomical name. But remember that time, that the only porn you saw was what you 'discovered' so secretly somewhere else in the house?

Well, no matter what, even though times have changed, I still love the magazines, and I still am subscribing to the Penthouse. Sure, it changed a lot through the years. It became very hardcore, and after the reorganization it became temporarily even more 'clean' that Playboy has ever been.

But the idea of the magazine, the stills, is still very erotic to me. And yes, we can credit it even to the photo to the right that I got into photography at all so many years later.

But, that was my link to sex. That was what sex was to me, these photos. Watching women, posing. So when I saw a real hard-core photo in a sex magazine that I accidentally found without me absolutely snooping around in my parents' room for it - how dare you insinuate that! - my life and mind just blew up. I knew of course what would happen, geez, they drew it out so nicely in 'The Joy Of Sex'. But actually seeing it? Wow! Look, that women already posed like they did in these magazines was already something I wondered about, but there were actually people actually having sex? On photos? What was the world coming to?

Of course, I was frustrated, because that was the only magazine I found. So I had a very limited supply of real pornographic photos. And believe me, they were not good. Oh, they were not good at all. But, well, there was a penis sliding into a vagina. How much better could it get?

That answer was given when I saw my first porn shot. On the VHS tape that I expected had my cartoon from the day before on it. Oh, it was no toon, but oh, I liked it so much better. And I then made it my mission, to go through all the thirty 4-hour-stretched-to-8-hour tapes to find out if there was more of this drug on there.

And that was when movies like Sky Foxes or Hanky Panky, Pizza Girls and such came to my attention. Ah, nostalgia. But the most interesting part of it was not the porn itself, but the whole experience around it. Just like I wrote in my last posting, the buying of porn itself was half the fun, and sometimes half the arousal.
 

The getting your tape, forwarding it, playing it, rewinding, playing it again, and just enjoying those moments while at the same time you were alert as a fox for any sound that might imply someone was coming home.

Right now, although I can get my hands on these old movies through the magic of the internet, it still is lacking. Suddenly, it is that old, outdated kind of porn. By nostalgia fun and erotic, but hopelessly outdated. Ah, but the good old memories...

I make no illusions, getting porn through the internet does beat everything. At any time, thinking about something, and getting it right away. We are getting way too lazy for porn.

But, call me an old fart, but just like that I still prefer reading a book holding the hardcover in my hand, I still enjoy receiving, every month, the Penthouse and Hustler by mail. Yes, I might be that only subscriber left... but I prefer that to online.

Buying Porn, Anxiety and other fond memories of sex.

You know that time when you start 'feeling old'? Many of us all probably already experienced, and all the others will feel it at one time as well. And there are a lot of you out there that will look at my age, and think I know nothing yet ;)

Of course, I could not put a photo here of a
man reading porn. Sorry women ;) Taken from
hardcoremandy.com

I have always been drawn to erotica and pornography. Not just for lust, but also that I always loved to see the form of a woman draped in such a way that it is the most beautiful, sexy and fascinating sight a man will every see. I had this from a young age, and gladly, I was raised in a part of the world where a guy my young age, before the age of 10, could still get his hands on some lecture from time to time by just being smart. Oh, I worn out those Penthouse magazines with my eyes before I knew well enough how to masturbate. And even than I read those comments next to the photos - still assuming they were real - reading that this eighteen year old woman was into this and that. Wow... eighteen... she was really a mature woman at that time.

Now, although I absolutely still love to see those photos, and I still subscribe to the Penthouse to this very day simply for nostalgic effect, but sometimes I do feel ashamed when I see that printed there - this eighteen year young girl this and that. Fuck. I am becoming an old fart!

I went through hoops to get my 'fix' of erotica when I was a teenager. The only place to get them that were accessible to me was a small kios-like store close to our school. A magazine called 'chick' sold their old magazines bundled in a tripple-pack which was perfectly priced for my wallet. And I was just tall enough to reach that top shelf. I had to work myself mentally up to even walk into that store, and overcome my fears to buy it. Keeping track if no-one was in the store, my heart racing in my throat, and then simply grabbing the pack, walking to the cash register, forking over the dough and stuffing it as soon as possible in my backpack, jump on my bike and race home.
By the time I was 15 I had a collection that could not be hidden in closets or even on my bookshelves anymore. Sorry precious teenage literature, make place for The Girls of Penthouse, Hustler and Chick.

There was something really exciting about it. The Chick, by the way, was pure trash. But at that time Hustler and Penthouse did not show porn yet, so it had to do. Even when I got my first computer halfway through the eighties, in pixelated black and white or 4-color CGA, I was watching, or drawing, porn. Right now it would seem so rediculous, but a computer would allow all kinds of visuals.
That actually even made me think. I developed stuff even at a young age, so, with a screen resolution of 320x200 in black and white (no grey gradients then) there are only 4.1 billion visuals possible. So, if I would just generate all of these possible images, I would actually also have every pornographic visual possible in any scenario. I would have the prefect pose, position with the perfect woman, any hair color (as long as it is black or white ;) ) that will ever exists. Better yet, I would have all the visuals of Game of Thrones season 12 already!

No kidding... and this was even a lot of colors... ah... it is how I learned to play poker.

Of course, I did not go that far. My computer could calculate maybe 1 images every 5 seconds that way. So, 20 billion seconds... 634 years. Game of Thrones would have been cancelled for about 625 years by then.

But that was how I wanted to see porn, and get access to it without all the anxiety. Right now, I miss that anxiety a bit. I want to see porn, I find it. I don't have to pay for it, no one may catch me, and then I have it. I have gazillions of images that I never watch. I watch 80-800 images when I masturbate when I am alone. And I cannot remember one of them. That has nothing to do with old age, but simply, it doesn't mean so much to me anymore. I still remember, in detail, those photos in those Penthouses that I looked over minute after minute. Every glittering of wetness on the lips, the closed eyes.

Maybe there is something to say for those 'good old days'.