Category — Featured

This story was told to me by a customer and friend. He came in for the usual - a sensual massage session scheduled to last 42 minutes, leaving him the necessary 8 minutes for manual release, and the 10 minute transition time. He loved my “regularity”, but I always knew he played with “private stock” girls on the side. On this day, he was a bit shaken up because he ran into an old PS girl of his in the grocery. While that is not normally a rough situation, this time it was because she was “reformed”. It went something like this:

“Well, I used to be a filhty whore so maybe you fucked me. Are you still a filthy John?“

He saw her across the aisle, and knew that he knew her from somewhere. As a fan of asian ladies, he was always finding ways to know them in the daily life, so it was not odd to recognize a lady and not be able to place her. He loved asian women, always sought to know them if he could, and was always open to any opportunity to have sex with them. Of course he frequented asian massage parlors, but, as he had told me many times, while he liked to screw the asian women, he didn’t enjoy them for manual efforts such as hand release or oral sex.

So when he saw her and she saw him he recognized her but not entirely. But then, as he tells it, she looked him squarely in the eye the way only a working girl does. She looked at him as if to challenge his courage. The brief working girl eye-2-eye stare says “yes, you know I am a whore, and I say so what, and I say do you have the balls to be who you really are, too, or are you just a poser?“. ( I swear, that’s what he told me… men!)

So anyway he took the hint and said hello. She gave him a hello back, but nothing more. Then he said “I feel like I know you, but I’m not sure from where?“. Expecting her to say “don’t worry, honey, I’ll never tell” or “Thanks for remembering me, honey. Next time come back to see me again before you forget me” or any of the other dozen responses he had heard from former pass-by-girls when meeting them on the streets of Flushing. But he wasn’t ready for what she said (very loudly): “Well, I used to be a filhty whore so maybe you  fucked me. Are you still a filthy John?”

Ouch. Remember what they say about prostitutes: you don’t pay them for sex, you pay them to leave afterwards. In this case, she had been reformed and was now righteous. Is there nothing scareier than a reformed, righteous ex-whore that you remember?

This one is from Alan, a sweet guy with a big heart and a very bad sense of judgement.

I am mid life and the best thing in my life is the time I spend with my whore. For whatever reason, I hate everything in my life but I love the brief time I spend with the pay lady. It makes me whole, like nothing else does.

I have a job and family and a full life and the very best thing in my month so far is the 30 seconds when I climaxed inside my whore friend, while she protested and tried to push me back and out of her because we were bareback and she was fertile. Those thirty seconds… after she had climaxed and I was huge and ready and the grip was just perfect and the sweat was the perfect temperature and the feelings were taking over and she was pressed up against the pillows, on her stomach, ass lifted to accommodate me with my hands around her waiste… and as I ejaculated inside her she could feel the pressure of the stream and she nervously started to say “no no honey! out! out!” but it was too late. I filled her up. Later she said she felt it “go inside…really inside.. you too strong… you make baby honey” but she doesn’t want a baby right now. But I would love that. I would love to watch her build a baby from my deposit. It would make me whole.

Just so you don’t think me a cad, she and I did the deed another time that hour, again bareback, and again she protested yet still took me deep inside when she knew I was close and helped me to a full orgasm. She wants it, too, if it happens. She doesn’t want to be responsible. She doesn’t want to have to admit to being stupid or irresponsible. But if she were to get pregnant by me, I know she would be happy. She is a risk taker, after all, and sometimes the rewards of risk taking are delicious even if painful.

And that is what I know that my “regular” friends and family do not know. That reward comes from risk, not caution. That richness in life is not monetary, but experiential. You cannot buy or wait for a rich life to come to you. You have to live it. And to live it is to take risk, for what you get when you live is not certain. You make decisions and see what happens. You learn to navigate, and then you set sail. You cannot control the weather; you can only control the decision of whether or not to set sail. And if you don’t set sail, you have nothing. If you do, the outcome depends on many factors, including luck, but also how well you can navigate.

I am mid-lfe and the best part of my month was listening to the voice of the whore as I came inside her and she expressed her hesitations about taking the risk of getting pregnant by me at this time. It was beautiful. A super memory.

No, she didn’t get pregnant. Not this time. But when she jokingly told me “you not so strong honey… no baby this time” on the phone today. I came back without pause… “I have more for you — we can try better next time” and she didn’t complain. I know her and she knows me, and we will indeed take the risk again next month and probably shoot three times instead of two. It’s just the way we are living our lives right now.

I hate that whore because she teases me. She lets me push beyond my life boundaries, and she puts the challenge of my risk taking right back into my face and says “go ahead, honey. Shoot your load right into me, where it makes trouble. Come on.. do it. Shoot it in and make a baby, because it will rock your world and mine. It will throw everything into a tailspin.” She knows that by fucking around with her I am playing with fire in my life, and she is goading me to throw gasoline onto that fire. She looks me in the eye and draws me into her and screams as she comes, and then challenges me to do the same with a clear understanding of the consequence : a life changing event for both of us. She’s daring me to be what I am pretending to be. Don’t just play with fire, honey, BURN something! She’s evil. I hate her, and I love her.

And I love the son I already have with her from the last time luck shined on us following one of our memorable sessions.