Category: Professional Relations

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The Wheel of Consent

 

X Axis:

Who is it for? Is this kiss a kiss to turn me on or to turn you on? Is this position to get me off or to get you off? Ideally, we both take turns doing and being done in ways that turn our partners on.

Y Axis:

Doing and being done to are simple words that describe what action is taking place and where each partner is in the moment. Ideally, we take turns here, also, between doing and being done to.

Radial Axis:

At the center of the circle are the things I want to do for me that happen to be things you want me to do for you, and vice versa. Because we are not clones, there is space around the perimeter for things we are willing to do, things that our partner wants to do or have done that we are willing to have done or do, but may not be things we would ask for. Outside the thin blue circle, we find non-consensual encounters, violence, resentment, anger, fear, etc. Inside the circle, we find mutuality, pleasure, and fulfillment.

Things that fall in Quadrant I, Actions I perform, on you, for you:

  • Massage
  • Body Glide
  • Reverse Cowgirl
  • Administering warm towels
  • Spanking
  • Butt stuff

Things that fall in Quadrant II, Actions I perform, on you, for me:

  • The first 90% of a blowjob
  • Cowgirl
  • 69 (most of the time)
  • Kissing
  • Grinding through clothes

Things that fall in Quadrant III, Actions you perform, on me, for me:

  • Missionary
  • Massage
  • Gently flicking my nipples with your tongue tip
  • Gentle, slow oral exploration
  • Doggie sex

Things that fall in Quadrant IV, Actions you perform, on me, for you:

  • Oral, most of the time
  • Fast and/or rough sex
  • Hard-ish or rough-ish kissing or groping
  • Standing up sex

Things that fall outside the circle of consent:

  • Receiving anal
  • Really rough sex
  • Pinching or slapping
  • Tongue spelunking

 

I love doing things for you. It feeds me, it turns me on, it inflates my pride and it gives me warm feelings for myself and the person I’m giving to. It is easy for me, emotionally, to give to a receptive and appreciative partner. Far easier than receiving.

Being done to, even if it’s for me, is emotionally taxing in a way that giving will never be. It is often pleasurable but the emotional space I hold to both keep everyone involved and happy while also allowing myself to live in the moment means FBSM leaves me feeling whole and relaxed while an intimate encounter leaves me happy and satisfied but drained.

Because I am willful and selfish sometimes and because my beloved clients often want me to enjoy myself, I can take action, on you, for me quite well. The danger here is taking action that someone isn’t ready for, just because it’s something I like. I like to think I’ve done well so far.

The potential for infinite data points along the three axes make this a useful tool for communicating. If, for example, someone thinks they’re going down on me for my pleasure and I think they’re going down on me for their pleasure, neither of us are getting what we want. As a professional, I want to spend most of our time in the ‘for you’ half which gets wibbly wobbly timey wimey on us when ‘for you’ involves my orgasm, haha!

Whether we are doing or being done to, for me or for you, I will always vocalize where my circle is; you will never need to guess whether or not I agree to an activity. I will also vocalize any discomfort and suggest changes so I can focus on the pleasure of your pleasure. That is my commitment to you. All I ask in return is that you take and appreciate the gift of access I offer.

The gift of access is beautiful. It’s something I’ve intuited and appreciated since day one of my sexual journey, and haven’t always protected. The gift of access is something you give your partner, freely, that allows them to unselfconsciously explore you and take pleasure in you. It’s something not all can easily give but for those of us who can, we make excellent and versatile providers.

The gift of access is something you have to actively take. It is a gift that is offered, but requires some action on your part to access it. When less experienced people come to see me, one of the things I want them to practice is taking pleasure in their partner. I want you to look and feel my breasts and my pussy and my lips and hair and everything else. I want you to listen to my heart beat in my inner thigh and to my breath quicken. I want you to explore, slowly and gently, every crease and expanse and curve and fold. And I want you to be able to do it secure in the knowledge that I know, now, how to protect the gift of access and I will help you learn to as well.

The wheel of consent is a big concept. This post has been about four months in the making because there is infinite nuance and trying to distill it into something simple… well, lets just say I’m still not happy with it. Betty Martin is the inspiration for this concept and this post and if you’re at all interested in communication and better sex, I encourage you to browse the videos on her website at www.bettymartin.org. They move a bit slowly, but I found it worth the time at least once.

Thank you to everyone who either already intuited this or took the time to explore it and to those who are still working it out. It’s good stuff, I tell ya.

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Reference Point

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen.

I love giving references. I love knowing that we all have a shared secret, that we are all dealing with many of the same issues, that I can do my part to help others pay bills and make bank, and I love knowing that my beloved clients are exploring.

I do not love, however, getting reference requests from folks I haven’t seen in ages or via text message. Ladies, there’s not much you can do about it other than sigh long sufferingly and ask for better information. Dear gents, getting a good reference from me is probably the easiest interaction for you that we will ever have. I don’t need to to give me a heads up (usually, thought it helps), I don’t need you to dance a jig or come back and see me first. All you need to do is be average or better and give your new lady my email address.

I’ll repeat this, but in list form.

1: complete one appointment with me (means pass screening, etc)

2: Don’t be a jerk. Easy as pie for 98% of those who complete #1

3: Email your new friend with your name, email address, and contact@amiepetite.com somewhere in the body of the email

4: Enjoy time with your new friend!

Addendum: If it’s been a while and we only met once or twice, it’s a good idea to rekindle our acquaintance before asking for to many references. If that’s not possible, I do recommend sending an email ahead of time letting me know so my response is as timely as possible.

Additional Addendum: Being a safe asshole does not immediately disqualify you from getting a reference. However, I will not lie or hold back on your account. References aren’t about you, they’re about the person you’re trying to see.

Respected colleagues, hi. Thanks for stopping by 🙂 Here is some info for you that I like to know when the tables are turned. If I gave a p411 OK, that means I saw the client and he wasn’t weird. If he is weird, if something went odd, I want them to give me as a reference so I can give you a heads up. If I replied to a review on TNA, that’s a guy I’m ok vouching for. I only replied to confirmed visits for folks I would see again. I prefer giving references over email; please don’t text me, even if all the client gives you is a phone number.

My reference never expires. It could have been years since I saw the client and I will still tell you what I remember. That may be nothing, that may be extremely detailed, either way I will let you know and allow you to take that information forward. I’ve started making (discreet) notes to jog my terrible memory but if all I can tell you is that I saw the client once and he isn’t on my permanent shit list, that’s all I’ll say and I’ll caution you to take care. It’s up to you to decide whether to give that a chance or to seek more information from other sources. In a very few cases I’ve actually written blog posts inspired by client encounters. If that’s the case, I will happily share the post title and link.

Providers: Please, please: if I’ve given you a positive reference for someone who behaves badly, tell me. I have been known to instill mild bad habits in nice boys and to have a higher tolerance for weird than others. If my client is nice to me but is not nice to you, I do want to know that. In some cases I feel comfortable doing something about it, in others, it’s just good info to have. I will always protect your name.

References, for me, aren’t about making it easier for the client to find new providers. There are hundreds of ladies and gents who don’t ask for screening; my good recommendation ultimately means very little in a client’s search for a provider. References are about helping keep my community safe or at least making life a little easier for my colleagues. I do appreciate and thank clients who give me a heads up when they’re giving me as a reference and it can streamline the process by jump starting my memories, but ultimately it’s not about you, dears.

Fun aside re: references: About a year or so into my career I began getting references from mature women such as Sarah Nicole and Sola. As a 24 year old provider, I was extremely flattered that clients who usually saw women with a wiser head on their shoulders were interested in seeing me. I take great pleasure in seeing mature clients but interesting gentlemen in the fifty and more category can be turned off by too young and inexperienced (read: air headed) companions. That I was as interesting to them as they were to me was my second milestone as an escort. Milestone number one being actually meeting someone for the first time.

References have also been a beautiful way to expand my social network. I scope out ladies who ask for references and on occasion I stumble across one I connect with. Keep them coming, loves.

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Duo Review: Jules Curie

LOCATION: First my place, then a local hot spot, on the down low.

DATE: June 2018

NAME: Jules Curie

INCALL/OUTCALL: A bit of both

AGENCY OR INDY: Indy, though the back end admin work is driving her mad.

ACCURATE PICTURE: All of them, absolutely.

AGE: Mid thirties

PERSONALITY: Accommodating, a smidge too much sometimes, eager, insatiable.

RACE: Eastern European/Mediterranean

BODY TYPE: Generous, full figured

WEIGHT: I have no idea but what is there, she carries well.

HEIGHT: 5’6”

BUST: Again with the generosity. Every time I see them all I can do is stick my face in them. And they love attention.

WAIST: Well defined between her generous bosom and thick hips.

HIPS: Thick, broad, welcoming.

HAIR: Dark, almost black, a rich chestnut in the sun, with gentle curls.

EYES: Dark chocolate, tempered with a green ring around the iris.

FEET: Clean and painted, sensible but stylish.

SKIN TONE: A bit richer than just a white girl with a tan. Dark gold and glowing.

TRIMMING: As I answer this I realize that I didn’t even notice with my face right there. Haha! Must have been distracted. I think trimmed?

TATTOOS: None

SCARS: None that I noticed

PIERCINGS: Ears

MOLES: I didn’t notice any

BIRTHMARKS: Nothing distracting

CLOTHES: Silk blouses, figure flattering dresses, and an enormous purse.

GLASSES: Nope

MOANER OR A SCREAMER: Moans and words of encouragement. As Lady Vi said: “I’ve never had anyone yell ‘green’ at me before, ha!”

ENERGY LEVEL DURING THE SESSION: High and bottomless.

MULTI SHOTS DURING THE HOUR: For her, absolutely, probably many multi. For you, well that depends on whether you can keep up or not.

ACCEPTS FRENCH: Yes, it is highly encouraged. Put down towels first.

SMOKES: Nope

DRINKS: A bit. Riesling, Port, and other sweet drinks are her favorites.

KISSES: Anywhere that smells impeccably clean, yes.

FRENCH: I will say this is my area of expertise, not hers. She can receive all day long but giving doesn’t carry the same enthusiasm.

GREEK: Nah.

RUSSIAN: Warning: cocks enveloped in this bosom may be larger than they appear. And yeah, she’s wonderfully accommodating so if that’s on your list of things to do, you can.

DO’s or DON’T’s: DO be polite and keep in mind she’s still figuring out the administrative end of things. Don’t skip the shower when you arrive.

WEB-SITE: www.julescurie.ch

SCREENING PROCESS: References only.

PHONE: She will provide at her discretion.

RECOMMEND: If you want to take a woman to bed who truly cannot be exhausted, she is perfect for you. A pure feast for the sexual senses, a never-ending smorgasbord of vanilla ice cream, a bottomless cup of tea.

COMMENTS: I first met Jules during a long distance hangout with a group of college friends. We knew people who knew people and ended up late one night, overindulging, while I told stories. I’m out to this particular group, some of them even read this, so I was answering questions and just talking shop. Towards the end of our group chat, she send me a private message asking to talk. Like many young ladies who dabble with the idea of indulging, she assumed it wasn’t something that could be done safely and independently. When she realized she could have no strings attached sex with a variety of folks AND chip away at student debt a little faster, she knew it was time.

 

…

[In the interest of discretion and because I got awfully carried away describing our day, the rest of this review is password protected. Verified newsletter subscribers have it in their inbox. Hint: look low.]

…

But don’t take my word for it. Look her up and see if you can survive a thousand leagues under the sea. (Did I mention she’s a squirter?)

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Hot For Teacher

I’ve finally reached a point where I can teach. I first had sex when I was 16 and it was awesome, but I was bad at it. I learned a little at a time, incidentally, as I found new boys to play with, and a few girls. I’m naturally curious, get bored easily so am always seeking something new, and also I’ve been doing sexy things at a professional level for a good six years now. I feel it’s important to be good at your job so I keep accumulating information, strategies, techniques, thoughts, concepts, communication tools, confidence, formal education, until something clicks and I make a breakthrough. Well, I think my next breakthrough is hands on teaching.

Most sex educators talk you through things, show you models, make you do cute exercises. To teach you concepts, but how many of them will talk you through eating pussy, using your cock as their model? Of course sucking cock and eating pussy are very different, but there are common core concepts and I feel very strongly that it is important to know what it feels like to receive whatever it is you are learning to do.

My sexual history is deep and wide. I’ve done long term relationships and one night stands, long form blowjobs and quickies on your lunch break, I’ve had sex standing up and bending over, lying on top, underneath, and backwards, I’ve given several hundred orgasms to cocks and a dozen or so to pussies, I’ve had hundreds of my own from mouths and hands and cocks and toys, I’ve teased and gone straight for the gold, I’ve had good sex and unwanted sex and mediocre sex and mid blowing sex and I only finally got good at sex about a year ago. I’ve read books, written blog posts, watched videos, sexted, chatted online, flashed people in public, stayed under covers, I’ve talked to folks about nontraditional sexual outlets, watched people get picked up, pushed over, forced to come, fucked by machines, whipped, tickled, trusted and tried, and I’m still only getting started in some places.

The least I can do is share a little of what I’ve learned.

The benefit of coming to learn from me instead of from videos and books and things is time and specificity. It’s like walking into a huge store and asking someone where to find the product you’re looking for. If you need a new set of kitchenware, you don’t need to hunt the aisles in the garden section. If you need strategies on how to make your specific sex life better, I can, probably, help you in just a couple of hours. It’s also useful to have immediate and concrete feedback and tips from someone you don’t need to impress.

I don’t want to make promises. Sometimes it’s not the sex life that’s the problem, it’s the relationship, and learning how to give good relationship advice will take another ten years or so. A little bit of relationship advice kind of comes with the whole sex life territory, but I can only help you with your willing partner, I can’t make your partner willing for you.

That said, it’s been a pleasant surprise for me to realize just how much I know about sex that other people don’t. Toys and lubes and condoms are just the first step. How to seduce a woman with confidence, how to give the most mind blowing hand job of all time, how to help keep yourself in the moment and how to forgive yourself when it doesn’t work, how to read a body’s arousal signals and home in on what works…

I suppose this is just me saying: if you’ve ever wanted to learn more about the sexy basics, I can help. I find a series of 90 minute to two hour appointments is an excellent format for getting comfortable, getting naked, and getting schooled. This isn’t exactly an ad, per se, since these kinds of things often happen organically; I’m writing this partly because I just had a rewarding morning with someone that went very much in the teaching way, partly because it’s really the perfect content for this blog, and partly because I want people to know that not only am I fun to have sex with, I’m also willing to pass on some of my knowledge. You only have to ask.

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Hoo Boy!

I didn’t tell her until after. I didn’t want her to be any more nervous and also I wanted to see if she would guess that she was my first.

Women are very different from men, but past unprofessional conduct with women seems to have prepared me well. A few ladies in the area have let me practice performing FBSM on women, including some variations of sexual touch. I’ve also done a number of duos with ladies all over the city and have attended some unconventional group events that expanded my horizons and gave me some solid tools. Also, I have a pussy I’ve been practicing on for years so that helps.

Women are capable of incredible pleasure, both in quantity and in quality. We have a whole maze of sexual/sensual pathways and, as many of you know, I take great pleasure in traveling them slowly to really take in the scenery.

She was charming, with a broad smile and booty for days. It was such fun to watch her nervous excitement as she filled me in on a bit of her sexual journey and how it brought her to me. I subscribe to the reddit forum /r/deadbedrooms and it’s heartbreaking to hear stories of men and women losing touch with their partners and falling into traps of closed mindedness and anger. This was a different story, a story of an adventurous woman who had nothing left to lose when she and her lover went into a strip club together after a long stretch without sex. Several years later, she and her man have tried swinging and other exciting new sexual endeavors to great effect and this was the next step.

She had read my post about my sexuality as it concerns women women and appreciated my candor. She was curious to see if she had a similar feeling when given the chance to touch and be touched by another woman.

I’ve done this with men, too, who haven’t had a chance to just stare. I’ll turn on the lights and just let them drink in these forbidden images. Sure, porn is great for showing you genitals but really being able to get in there without the distraction of a sexual urge is a novel experience for many. And to then be able to touch!?! Without the pressure to do it ‘right’ right away!?!! So cool.

I also really love taking each other’s clothes off. It’s a little awkward, you giggle a bit, but I feel strongly that it removes a great deal of distance between two strangers. It’s the difference between feeling like an object to be dealt with on my table and feeling like an actual participant. I still don’t allow you to participate TOO much once you’re on the table, but those first few moments…

Se we undressed each other. I had begun to feel a bit of a snuffle that morning so we agreed, much to my disappointment, no kissing. Her lips looked so soft and I want all women to someday experience kissing a woman. Men are hard and pointy and with a charm of their own, but women are soft and smooth and smell nice. It’s truly wonderful. Instead of kissing on the lips, we turned our attention to necks and breasts. There’s always another way, haha!

It seems that nearly every woman in the world likes their nipples played with harder than I do. Take comfort, boys, that I even had to ask this lovely smooth soft woman to take it easy on mine. But that’s what exploring is all about: testing and learning and trying something else until you find what works.

Fortunately my massage training and years of experience made the initial massage part easy, satisfying, and relaxing for her. I like a full body kneading, just luscious cat’s-paw smushing from head to toe, in my massage so that’s what I work towards when giving. I rarely use draping in my work but I made an exception, partly to keep her warm, partly to keep her feeling safe and secure, partly so I could slowly expose more and more of her, seduction by revelation. Once I got her fully exposed, I got to test and see how she liked the full body contact part.

Boys are easy: when they’re excited, they get hard (usually). Girls are even easier: when they’re excited, they breath deeper, move their hips, make little moans, get warmer, sometimes tilt their chins back, curl their toes, close their eyes…. So many little signs and signals, sometimes more subtle than others, but always there. When my warm, coconut oil covered breasts made full contact with her back, I heard a sharp inhale and an immediate change in the tempo and depth her breath. It went from easy and even to shallow and loud. “Oh thank god” I thought to myself, “she likes it!”

I always worry about actually climbing up on top of women. Even though I’m small, it’s still a bit of a vulnerable position. I find it comforting under the right circumstances but the right circumstances don’t always involve strange women in private apartments. I suppose that could depend on how you define ‘strange’ but hey, she liked it so I stuck with it. I will admit there’s something delicious about warm, soft skin enveloping you; I can’t argue with that. And the subtle rhythmic pressure of hips on hips can’t hurt.

I was so pleased. Her enthusiastic and obviously genuine response inspired confidence, pleasure, and a reflexive arousal of my own. There’s something about seeing a woman turned on, flushed with heat, ready, curious.

When she turned over onto her back, I went slowly. I wanted her to want my touch before it arrived, to anticipate it and imagine it, so I kept my hands everywhere except between her thighs. I also needed time to assess her openness to more intimate touch. Rushing sexual touch is an easy way to sabotage a woman’s arousal so I deliberately slowed down. Fortunately, most ladies respond well to vibrating toys and even more fortunately I had one set out. Between that and a few other stocks in trade, we soon found a direct route to a sexual climax or two.

I have visual and aural memories flickering through my head as I write. Things didn’t stay linear, exactly, and I was kind of trying to do a few things at a time, between breasts and thighs and holding on tight as her body moved without control. Since I can’t feel the cocks we were using, I had to go slowly to make sure I didn’t do anything uncomfortable. By the time we were done, however…. well, lets just say that I don’t think anyone was uncomfortable.

In the same way I felt an abrupt change towards arousal earlier on, I now saw an abrupt relaxing, a few even deep breaths, and though I was happy to keep going as long as she wanted to, it seemed like the right time to take a break.

I’ve never been able to recover as quickly as she did and immediately start asking questions. We bonded over cock sucking techniques and I gave her a few tips and tricks that hopefully she can bring home to make good use of. The rest of our time we spent chatting while I rubbed her hands and feet and by the time she went to take a shower and get ready for the rest of her day, I was beaming! To be able to bring that kind of revelatory pleasure to someone… it’s happened a few times before when I’ve been able to edge someone a little and help them achieve an unusually powerful orgasm but to be able to do that for a fellow sexually empowered lady…

She said I had a way of putting her at ease that helped her relax and enjoy herself. She said she hadn’t had an orgasm like that in a long time. She said she thought her partner might like to see me sometime, too 😉 and maybe, once we all three get to know each other a bit, we might all three get together to have some fun.

I, for one, am SO pleased. To know that there are women out there taking control of their sexuality, embracing the power of yes as well as the safety of no, enjoying new experiences, and learning as much as they can. To have the time, space, and experience to help usher folks along, and to get paid for it!?! To have my chosen profession bring myself satisfaction and my clients pleasure and newness? So pleased. So. Fucking. Pleased.

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Farewell to the FC

I mean, you all can use it, but I’m afraid I cannot.

The ‘FC’ is a female, or internal, condom. I’ve used it to great effect in the past and had great reactions…. for the boys. The way it works is that, instead of rolling a tight condom down onto your hard cock, I put a loose nitrile sleeve inside me. Two firm rings, one at either end, hold it in place while your cock slides in and out, as close to a natural feeling as you can get while still maintaining peace of mind. No risk of breaking, falling off or out without noticing, and even greater coverage of skin to skin contact.

Unfortunately, What happens sometimes is that I get wet and you get a bit dry and suddenly, instead of you sliding easily back and forth inside the sleeve, the sleeve slides back and forth inside of me. You’d think that wouldn’t be an issue given how regular condoms work, but it’s all about the fit. Since it’s overlarge, it ends up creating ridges, and not the smooth, “for her pleasure” ridges on those gimmicky trojans. They are harder and, under the right circumstances, can be slightly sharp. I’m just gonna leave that there.

Many of you know that self care is something I constantly struggle with. Writing publicly about something I intend to do to help myself is my way of giving myself permission to enforce it. I know not everyone reads everything right away, but once it’s out there, particularly for a while, I don’t feel guilty about disappointing or upsetting anyone. I will always do my best to make sure folks are fulfilled and happy when they leave me but there are some exceptions. Unfortunately for some, this is one of them.

I’m actually really bummed, too. I love the opportunities they give gentlemen who have a hard time (har har) in many ways with regular condoms. I’ve had people come using the FC who haven’t come while wearing a condom in years. I’ve seen people able to lose themselves in just that little bit more freedom. Plus I love that in a duo you can simply switch back and forth without pausing in between. I know that Sofina still allows them and has them in stock so if it’s important to you, you can find it. Just not with me.

I may make exceptions under rare extenuating circumstances, but don’t expect it. Sorry :-/

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Amie and Adelle All Night Long

Your best friend is a great guy, but it’s clear that he is unable to satisfy his wife the way she needs it, it’s only a matter of time before she realizes it and comes to you. But waiting is hard, when every time she sees you, at every barbecue and game night and casual dinner out with friends, she teases you. She has made it clear; she’s a tease and doesn’t expect to get called on it.

“Hey, your furnace went out last year didn’t it? What did you do to fix it?” “Well I started by troubleshooting the -“ “you know what, why don’t you just drop by this afternoon? Marie and I will be getting ready and you can take a look at it. There are cookies in it for you.” And she winked. You could hear it over the phone.

When you took her that afternoon, she put up resistance at first. No, we can’t do this, Marie will see. No, we can’t… you can’t. But her flimsy protestations, her token resistance, melted under the heat of months of suppressed passion. Hours of teasing comments and flirtatious gestures…

“Can he satisfy you like this!? Admit it, he can’t fuck you like this, can he!” “No!” She sobs, “he can’t!” “You’ve been a little tease for a little too long. Did you really think I didn’t see it?” “I never thought you’d do anything about it. I just thought… oh god.”

Just as her cries turned into throaty growls, you see Marie in the doorway, astonished and silent. “You like what you see, don’t you?” She nodded. “Get naked. You’re next.” Obedient, she peeled off her satin thong just as you feel an orgasming pussy wrap around your cock, pulsing and wet.

“Good girl. You won’t tease me anymore, will you? Or tell anyone? Or stop watching while I fuck your best friend? I didn’t think so.”

***

Never, ever fuck anyone when they’re saying no, unless, of course, you’ve hired two highly sexual, creative, playful ladies to help your fantasy of fucking your best friends’ wives into submission become real.

Adelle and I had the incredible privilege of bringing a fantasy to life the other night and in the process, of allowing nuance into someone’s sexuality. To allow someone who would never actually enjoy fucking someone against their will, because they’re a human being with empathy and a sense of decency, to experience a close approximation. To experience power and control in a safe, sane, and consensual way, without damaging relationships or people.

Watching Adelle encourage our gentleman friend to elaborate on what can be an embarrassing or scary fantasy and then helping her make it real for him was an intoxicating mix of discovery, curiosity, and a hell of a lot of sexy.

Our evening began with cocktails that we brought up to the generous hotel room he acquired for us. Slightly buzzed, we entertained our fantasies, then went back down to fill our tummies with delicious food and drink. When we made it back up to the room, we investigated the volume of the bathtub (adequate) and soaked until midnight in soapy suds, champagne, and conversation.

5:30 am and I feel an urgency, a hard cock, waking me up. Now, if it were just he and I, I’d have asked for a few more hours first but I can fall asleep again easily and since I had someone to tag team with later in the morning, I got to say ‘why not?’ Instead of ‘why now?’ In the middle of our early morning adventure, I could see her watching us, sleepy eyed and smiling, enjoying the sounds of sex and also that it was someone else making them at that hour.

Sure enough, a few hours later, me still half asleep, they took each other next to me, moaning and gasping while I enjoyed the tableau. I couldn’t help myself; I couldn’t stay asleep with a beautiful, hard cock right there! As many of my readers know quite well, I love to orally pleasure any and all cocks that make themselves available (and belong to great folks) so I begged and bullied my way into their half of the bed.

The details escape me but we all wound up both happy and hungry. Room service fixed the hunger and a trio of mimosas took us to the hotel’s hot tub to while away our last half hour.

Packing up gave us a short, sexy stroll down memory lane: condom wrappers and Christmas lights, candles and chocolate sauce, a few half bottles and a hefty tip for housekeeping.

If my face looked anything like theirs, I had a giant grin plastered all over it and a rosy flush underneath. Pleasure, passion, joy, naughty stories, and a few orgasms made their way through all of us through the night and I have it in good authority that everyone had an amazing time.

You, too, could enjoy this experience, with a bit of planning and a flat fee based on the when and how long.

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To Receive

I recently completed my first successful fly-me-to-you get together. We shared a full day and everything went off without a hitch. But more on that later. Now I want to share an experience I had while waiting for my date.

I came in the night before to meet someone new, had a nice dinner, and met with an old college friend for breakfast. But of course breakfast doesn’t last all day so I found myself with several hours to kill. When planning my stay, I kept these empty hours in mind but didn’t schedule much outside of a little sight seeing. Until, of course, I saw something interesting on my twitter feed. There a gentleman who offers erotic bodywork, much like mine, that piqued my interest so I reached out to see if we could make something work.

Scheduling was easy; we spoke on the phone a bit and I heard all the industry buzzwords I was looking for. Holding space, performative sexuality, receiving versus giving, experiential… though the work I do is often far more play oriented than healing oriented, the crossover is strong and we spoke the same language regarding a sensual touch experience. With some trepidation, I opted to schedule a two hour bondassage session, balancing my nervousness at a new experience with my trust in his professionalism.

I knew going in that there would be a blindfold, headphones, ankle and wrist bonds, some light impact play (nothing too hard, of course) but I didn’t know much else. I knew that the philosophy of bondassage is one of experience and sensation, not of pain or extremes, so I wasn’t *afraid* per se, just a little shy.

Upon arriving at his studio collective, he ushered me in, offered me water and a short conversation, and showed me to the shower where I had a robe waiting for me. During our chat, we recovered some old ground and added a bit about just how sexual I wanted to get (not very), a notification that there would be some anal play (oh. uh. right! ok!), and a reassurance that if anything emotional came up, I was free to feel it in the moment and stop all sensations.

Now you know what I knew going in and I can set the scene: It’s a small room, fairly standard massage room size, it’s warm, it smells neutral, clean, I’m naked under a white Terry cloth robe, nervous as hell, and he gently but firmly tells me to take it off. I don’t take commands very well, as anyone who has met me knows, but I chose to set aside my natural resistance and trust in the experience. I did, after all, choose this, and it would be silly of me to pretend I know better what’s needed than he does. He commanded me to put my hands behind my head and to step wide so my feet were far apart. I am NOT accustomed to assuming such an open and vulnerable pose in front of someone I’ve just met so I already began to feel foolish, scared, and defensive on top of the nerves. But again, I’ve chosen this, I have every reason to believe I am dealing with a professional, so I comply. In addition to the expected wrist and ankle cuffs, he puts on a collar which I also don’t particularly like but, again, this is an experiment, an experience, I chose this, and I can stop anything, any time.

By the time he’s ready to start, I have the most comfortable blackout blindfold I’ve ever felt over my eyes, a bolster under my hips, noise cancelling head phones over my ears, I’m lying spread eagle face down on the table and my hands and feet are tied down. Now begins a game of ‘what is that?’ as I feel a silk scarf, dry brushes, furry mitts, a flogger, leather paddles, massaging hands, electric toothbrushes, and probably some things I’m forgetting roam all over me. Shoulders and back, ok, standard. Butt and thighs, yeah, those are normal places to get touched in a massage. A toothbrush to the underarm! That tickles!! I squirm and laugh. Now just at the very top of my pussy lips, from underneath. That is WEIRD! I’m not a big user of vibrating toys so I don’t associate it with pleasure but it’s intriguing, the prickly sensation and the vibrating ones both together. The flogger is slow, almost more like drumming than a punishment. I kept expecting it to get harder but he keeps it light.

Now the butt stuff. Butt stuff is not foreplay for me. Butt stuff is great when I’m already revved up and just need an extra bump to get over the edge. Butt stuff can be distracting when I’m not already in that headspace. So it was with this. A little warm up, a stainless steel (I’m guessing) hook tied to the collar (so that’s what that was for), and several minutes of distracting, somewhat comical, not great but not uncomfortable stimulation. At one point he rested one of the vibrating toothbrushes on the steel and on several occasions he twanged the string between the hook and the collar. I did find it interesting that with each deep inhale, I could feel the slightest movement, a tightening and release. If you’re into butt stuff, I’ll bet this would be AWESOME. If you’re like me, it’s something I could happily have skipped.

But I’m here to experience and so I did, sometimes gasping, sometimes laughing to myself, sometimes forgetting to breath (before the headphones went on, he set up a nonverbal signal to encourage deep breathing), and the whole time learning.

Once he reached the end of his routine on my back, he untied everything and had me turn over.

I’ll take this moment to mention that at all times, he made small gestures to reassure me that I was in control. He put the cords tying my cuffs to the table in my hands as a way to remind me that I am only tied up because I choose to be. He would occasionally lift the headphones to verbalize a check in. It was clear that he was paying extremely, unwavering, close attention to my nonverbal signals. However I felt about the sensations themselves, his touch was always absolutely perfectly appropriate to it.

Once on my back, I was rebound, this time with my hands above my head, and the sensory play started again. Silk, fur, leather, vibrations and slow massage. And nipple clamps. Fuck the fucking nipple clamps. Fucking fuck.

Up until then, the sensations had been interesting, new, not too intense, sometimes funny, sometimes pretty fucking hot, but nothing like this. Many of my readers know first hand how sensitive my nipples are and how much I guard them, warn against overuse. I am so averse to extreme nipple play that it didn’t even occur to me that I would encounter them. derp. My thoughts went something like this:

What!?! Fuck. No. Nipple clamps? I wasn’t expecting nipple clamps! Why wasn’t I expecting nipple clamps, haha! There was a fucking anal hook but the *nipple clamps* I didn’t expect? lol. Dummy. Those have to go. I should say something. Hang on, let me check in. Send your attention to your nipples…. Does it *hurt*? I mean, it’s fucking intense but does it *hurt*? …..nnnnooooooo? Not yet. Fucking asshole, these gotta go. Do they? I’m here to experience and as long as it doesn’t *hurt*. Does it hurt? Check back in…. The right one is pretty bad. Why am I angry? They aren’t that bad. Why am I so angry? Am I crying!?! Why am I sad! They’re nipple clamps, not sad kittens, why am I sad and crying? Why doesn’t he notice!?! Dummy, he’s a professional, he can see your chin quivering, he knows, he’s just letting me decide. Fuck him. No, he’s doing exactly what he should be which is giving me control. There’s no reason to be angry or sad but you are. Why? Fuck these, they gotta go. WHY AM I SO SAD!?! HOLY MOTHER SHITTING OF GOD HE RIPPED THEM OFF THAT FUCKING HURTS WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE WHY AM I SAD WHY AM I SO FUCKING ANGRY!!!!!!!!!

I didn’t say anything while they were on for many reasons. I was confused, curious, embarrassed, angry, confused about the other feelings, determined to stay present with this experiment, and my nipples were sending me a shit ton of signals, none of them *pain* but all of them pissed off. I could feel tears soaking into the blindfold and my chin quivering as I tried my damndest to stifle this welter of sudden feelings. All this time he had been ministering pleasant Swedish massage to my lower legs and, if my instincts are correct, watching me for my breaking point, reading me to make sure I got to an edge but didn’t go over.

It was probably only a minute or so between the application of what I would later learn were actually little suction cups and the moment he lifted the headphones but an hour’s worth of feelings ran through me. He asked what I would like us to do in the last fifteen minutes of our session, a gesture I recognized as a professional signal that time was nearly up while simultaneously appreciating how it feels as the client to hear that. I wanted to cry. I wasn’t in pain and he had done nothing traumatic, but some dam had been broken by a pair of stupid little rubber cups. We had started the session talking specifically about feeling free to let out whatever emotions may come. I thought of how I would feel were the roles reversed; how do I feel when a client needs to cry over a lost love, an old memory, the beauty of touch not felt in years? I would want them to feel free and unashamed to cry. So that’s what I said. I said “I think I would like to cry” and his response in that moment was the ultimate sign of a sacred intimate. He said ‘OK’ and simply sat with me. He didn’t make my crying his problem, his solution, or his pride, nor did he run from it. The only other person I know who can do this is Betty Martin. She doesn’t use nipple clamps, she just looks at me and listens.

So I lay on this table, with a stranger touching my forehead and my chest, there with head and heart, hysterically laugh-crying. I always feel silly when I cry for no reason. I am generally a practical person; tears with no sorrow or grief feel foolish, useless, inconvenient, an imposition to whomever happens to be near. Hell, an imposition on myself! When I really cry, I laugh-cry. I once got hit on the head with a basketball in high school gym class and sat on the floor laughing hysterically with tears streaming down for nearly a half hour. It’s always been part of me and a part that I I rarely feel truly free to feel.

It was probably five minutes before the sobbing laughter subsided and I was able to take a few deep, shaky breaths. I felt fucking stoned. Hot and relaxed and stoned off my gourd. Like some kind of huge wave had broken and in it’s wake I lay, shuddering. I wonder if some of my clients feel that way after they orgasm. Like your brain simply doesn’t care for a while.

I wish I had had more time after but SF traffic was crummy and it took me long enough to stumble across the hall and back into the shower. I had enough time to come back to reality and get my breathing back to normal, to thank him for his time and experience, and to catch a taxi to go meet my client. I was so blissed out the evening went by like a breeze, both of us carefree and reveling in each other’s pleasure. The next morning we took a long walk, had a delightful breakfast, and ended our time together with a delicious dish: a little threesome with miss Devorah Reine. But you already knew about that.

I had no expectations of intense emotional release when going in for a kinky massage. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into at all but it opened up an interesting box and raised a few real questions. Why on earth would intense sensation on my nipples bring me immediately and fiercely to an emotional climax like that? What is it about that experience that made me more vulnerable than the spread-eagle bondage position? And why can I cry in front of some people but not others?

A bondassage isn’t something I’d do often, but it is something I’d do again. Even now, six weeks later, the memory of how I felt is strong, though the details fade into the mists of memory. If I were able to go back to the same practitioner, I would show them this, talk about what I found awesome and intense, perhaps even push the envelope of *some* things and maybe back off of others. I am so incredibly delicate before arousal that I’m constantly guiding people to slow down and back off but once the moment arrives, once my entire being is consumed… Well, I suppose I’ll find out eventually what else I like.

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The Literal Best

I am absolutely sure I’ve done this before but, given last week’s angry rant, I feel it’s warranted again. I’d like to write a love letter to my clients.

82% of all the appointments I had in the last 16 months have been with returning clients. Out of everyone who chosen to spend an absurd amount* of their hard earned money hiring my company and services, 82% had met me before, knew who I was, knew what I had to offer, and chose to come see me anyway. Not ‘taking a chance’ on me but spending good money on a sure thing.

Most ladies thrive on regular clients, those of you who come see us weekly, daily, or just once or twice a year. That such a high percentage of my working time is spent with folks I have developed rapport with isn’t exactly unusual, but I can also say that 66% of the new friends I made over the last 16 months came back at least once. So far.

I’ve been struggling and worried lately over the effects of SESTA and the shut down of a myriad of local and national ad platforms. Eros is harder than ever to get onto and all of us are all mixed up together. It used to be that those offering and looking for a quick, dirty fuck could go to one or two places online, make that clear, and go on their merry way. They avoided platforms that catered to the longer, chattier types and vice versa. It’s just not the case anymore.

I went nearly three years without getting more than a few useless inquiries in my inbox. My website and ads made it pretty clear who I was, what I wanted, and what I offered. The two or three wasteful emails a month didn’t bother me since they were easy to spot and stayed in the minority. I used to read in awe about other people getting such scintillating messages as ‘u avail’ and ‘how much for hhr’. And yes, the lack of punctuation is part of it. Now…. Well let’s just say I’ve put a few extremely useful email filters even between potential clients and Rose. Rose was my filter, sifting through junk before it stressed me out and sometimes even turning the junk into gold. Or something like it. Now even she needs one, too.

I’m not alone here, either. All of my colleagues, from the ones who already dealt with a high proportion of junk to the ones who do everything they can to turn most people off, are experiencing a higher than usual percentage of absolute junk.

In their turn, clients are seeing a higher percentage of junk ads. There are, now more than ever, untrustworthy and suboptimal providers taking advantage of the confusion and, in their own confusion, scrambling to find their clients. Their niche. We had a comfortable strata and now it’s all jumbled. And what we’re losing is the professional, kind, respectful client provider interaction I got used to. It’s still there, it’s just much harder to find.

I am in an exceptional position. I have people from years ago that know who I am and that they can trust me to do what I say I will and be where I say I’ll be when I say I’ll be there. I have a robust client base that allows me to eject infuriating clients without suffering financially. Part of that is due to the aforementioned living up to the expectations I set but there would be no living up to anything without the clients who continue to visit me. Without the funny, silly, serious, sexy, passionate, intelligent, blue collar, admiring, respectful, giving clients who fill a hundred days at a time with amusement and adventure.

When I was very young I drew a picture. It was a bedroom, a large one with a four poster princess bed right in the middle, sashes hanging elegantly from the corners, and a stick figure woman (in my imagination she is beautiful) lounging back. At the door, patiently waiting to be called in stood a man. Young, old, no one knows, and it wasn’t important. What was important was that he waited, patiently, for his name to be called. Behind him stood another man, and behind another, dozens of men, receding down the hall, all patiently waiting their turn to enter the room and see the lady.

You see, the lady was beautiful and sexual and highly desirable. The men were waiting patiently for her to sexually serve them with her unimaginable skills. Her pleasure was irrelevant, her desire, sexually, was of no consequence. She was SO good at sex (whatever that was, ha! I was twelve at the time) that it was her duty and her pleasure to service each man, in turn.

I wanted to be her. So desirable! So elegant! In her beautiful bed, with the power to demand that each man wait his turn and the skill to entice them to actually do it… That was my dream.

And the cherry on top? There was a speech bubble and a thought bubble, each with a different name in it. You see, she *wanted* Joe to be next because she desired sex with him but Steve was next in line and duty stood above desire.

Like, holy fuck. I drew a picture of a high volume prostitute when I was twelve years old and wanted to be her! I am quite literally living my own personal dream. I can’t see my beloveds one right after the other, and I am more selective than twelve year old me/prostitute was, but holding myself to the promises I make, the setting aside of my own selfish self (sometimes) to give pleasure, bestowing my sexual skills graciously on those who come to my door…

So my beloveds, my darlings, you doofy, silly, sexy as fuck, adoring, deserving dears, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, truly, it is because of you that I live my dream and I will spend my life thanking you. I will live in my house that you bought for me, with my friends and my loves, my cats and my dogs, tilling my garden and trying to teach a younger generation. And I will thank you every day for what you helped me build.

When you first arrive, you intrigue me. When you go, I miss you. In between, I enjoy and adore you. I cannot imagine my life without you.

*Given the nature of the market and where average rates sit, every penny of what I ask is legitimate, but it is a pretty absurd amount of money given today’s wages. I wish it were different but sadly it is not. Know that I acknowledge and appreciate what sacrifices need to be made for me.

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I Can’t Even

I know it’s been a while since I updated regularly. I feel an upswing of inspiration and motivation on its way. I do apologize that my first post after a long silence is an angry rant but I do hope it’s taken in the way it’s intended: not as something that makes me hate anything or anyone but as an astonished, incredulous venting of what, after a week or so of telling the story to friends, has given me some great material. the “Too Long; Didn’t Read” summary is that someone tried to mansplain my clitoris to me and did it in the absolute dumbest way possible so I fired him. Sigh. I love dudes but…

 

Not all men suck, but when they do, they all suck the same way.

When I decided to start offering full service again, I knew a few folks who had a middle ground between sensual massage and piv sex. I thought about it, and decided against it. Receiving pleasure is much more emotionally taxing for me than giving pleasure. My entire body is extremely sensitive and can only handle so much in any given period of time and my mind and heart are far more interested in doing than being done to. So, instead of offering a middle ground session at a lower rate, I decided that that reciprocal touch that includes everything except would simply have to fall under the umbrella of reciprocal touch that includes everything. I know there are people who would see this as paying more for less, but that is a pretty clear sign that our attitudes about sex don’t match up well. Oral sex, digital sex, its all still sex and it all takes it out of me, physically, emotionally, etc.

Given everything I’ve written and said and decided regarding oral sex in fbsm, enter Patrick.

It started in his first form submission. His comment made it clear that he was looking for mutual masturbation in a massage setting. I replied with a little blurb acknowledging the request but denying it, including an excerpt from the blog post I wrote about it. Over the next dozen emails, he went back and forth between agreeing to FBSM and that my limits were fine, to being ‘confused’ about my definitions of FBSM, to finally insisting that he could give me so much pleasure if only I let him and it would make his fantasy so much better. Throughout all of this I am getting less and less opaque, making it very clear what he should do moving forward: either book a more expansive session or chill the freak out and let me do what I do best.

A this point, I should have known better. No one needs this much explaining. No one reasonable, anyway. People with head injuries and English as their second language have an easier time navigating my boundaries and needs than this guy! But I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and I felt that it *could* go really well for him and worst case scenario for me he gets handier than I like and I ave to redirect.

So Patrick and I are in my apartment, slowly undressing, kissing, exchanging pleasantries, getting ready for some table time, and he brings it up again. Not in a ‘you should change your mind’ kind of way but in a ‘if you only listened to me you would understand that you’re wrong about your own clitoris’ kind of way.

It’s an intimate scene. I’m undressed and he’s down to shorts, we’re embracing, kissing, ready to start a lovely, luscious sensual massage in a few moments, if only he will stop talking. I am irritated in several ways by the arrogance of this person who kisses like a wet limpet and never stops talking to listen, who insists on stifling my voice with unskilled and indelicate face mushing, and who now has brought up a topic that had been set aside. Cue a spike in my blood pressure.

Guys? Guys. This guy tried to mansplain my own. clitoris. to me. Like, wft? You can fuck right off, at that point bro.

His thought was that *very gentle* clitoral stimulus can’t possibly be in the same category as penis in vagina sex. And he’s not *entirely* wrong; a lovely little tease can be a nice interlude and is welcome under the right circumstances. But he is assuming 1: that he has a magic face that is capable of gentle pleasure, 2: that what I mean by ‘wear and tear’ on my body is confined to literal physical damage, 3: that I don’t understand that he can’t keep an erection in a condom long enough to have PIV sex and so 4: he shouldn’t have to book a FS session, 5: that oral sex isn’t sex, and 6: that he isn’t asking for free extras and it doesn’t make him look real cheap.

And I would have happily explained this to him if I got more than a few words out at a time. It’s as if this guy doesn’t know that I spend most of my life thinking about, learning about, and catering to cocks of various sizes, styles, tensile strengths, and functionalities. As if I didn’t understand that age and ailment can make it harder to hold onto an erection. As if I haven’t put any thought into the decisions I make. As if I don’t already know exactly how I feel about receiving oral. None of what I do is arbitrary and here comes this brick wall with a mouth spouting nonsense and completely ignoring all attempts at communication from me.

So I kicked him out. For the first time ever in my six years as an entertainer, satisfier, erotic specialist, and tolerant person in general, I kicked someone out mid session.

I don’t get that pissed off that often. Especially when I empathize with the guy. It sucks to reach a point where an orgasm takes so much time and energy to achieve that they can only come few and far between. This is an expensive hobby and of course you want to get a satisfying experience for your money. That’s fine and I don’t mind at all when people feel that way, or even when they ask once or twice, or hint at it, or try to bribe me, or whatever. What pissed me off this time was the combination of me *knowing* that his jackassery was coming but hoping I’d be wrong, and having such an incredibly personal experience dismissed as if I simply didn’t understand my own. Fucking. Clitoris.

Of course I gave him his money back. I’m sure many folks would say I didn’t have to and I did regret it the one and only other time I left my fee behind, but it was clear that it was necessary this time. I hold myself to an unreasonably high standard in these matters and I wasn’t about to let this person have any hold over me.

I am proud of my behavior. Furious as I was, I simply put on a robe and said nothing. Well, nearly nothing, I caved a few times and tried to engage in further discussion but I have been in these arguments before; every word I say is a weapon in his arsenal. Plus I only got a few words out before he reminded me why I was kicking him out. He asked me out to lunch, to talk over a cup of coffee, as if I wanted to let him continue to explain to me that I just didn’t understand and interrupt me every time I started a new word. I would rather eat dirt.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to eat dirt, I got to sit on my couch and listen to my lovely music, relax, wait for Adelle to come over so I could vent and we could snuggle, text my partner and my assistant to vent, and write this long angry essay about someone who would be right at home on the US Senate.

I just… It’s hard to believe, in some ways. I could *feel* my face getting red and hot, my pulse starting to race, my voice starting to shake, in the beginning of the conversation. Every time he interrupted me it was just fuel on the fire. A perceptive human who is interested in what other people have to say can see those logarithmic increases. I can see them. He couldn’t.

He apologized, of course, and I’m sure he regretted whatever it was that made me kick him out, and of course I forgive him for his mistake, but forgiveness doesn’t magically erase the adrenaline. With 45 minutes left to get him on the table, off the table, showered, and out, I wasn’t about to give the worst, most angry, half assed massage ever. I love my work and I’d like to keep loving it. Continuing a session after something like that is a good way to make me hate my work.

Post Script. It’s been a week and I’ve had time to both cool down and get angry all over again a few times. I’ve been through the stages of bad behavior: disbelief, anger, incredulity, anger again, resignation, and as of the publication of this post, release. I have received a few follow up emails, all equally as tone deaf as the first. This guy thinks it was his words that pissed me off, haha! But I’m finally at my computer long enough to block his email address and, with luck, I will never be reminded of him again. And I still don’t regret giving him his money back. I wouldn’t have regretted keeping it, and I was well within my rights to do so, but this is someone who made a fuss about 330 being an odd number and he had to go get change at the coffee shop. Tone. Deaf. Ha!

In the week between, I have met and re-met incredible people. The vast majority of people I meet are fantastic, or at least only odd, and I rarely have to deal with someone so boorish. Most of the time my darling clients are kind and gentle, generous, thoughtful, intelligent, bearing gifts and charm, grace and appreciation. As time goes by and this incident recedes into the realm of ‘funny stories I get to tell at the right kinds of parties’ bad behavior will take up less and less of my mental space to make room for my beloveds, the sweet gentlemen who, as always, make my life more pleasurable and more interesting.

Here’s to listening to my gut more often, haha!