For all of you who employ escorts and those who are escorts.

[goldensamba]

1. Why do you do it? What compells you to pay as opposed to putting in a little work.

2. What is the most you would pay? Is there a limit?

3. For the girls. Why do you do it (aside from money of course)?


I am not one who will ever pay for sex but that is my personal opinion. Not right or wrong, just my own deal. I am curious what others think about this.

[tsntx]

opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn

[TheOne1]

1. i am a priest, so i can't be seen on dates .. im compelled by god to be a john

2. depends on the sunday donations

3. i think the girls do it for money..

[goldensamba]

opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn opcorn

LOL. Can I have some? Scoot over so I can sit on the sofa and watch the show too!

[vanished]

1. Why do you do it? What compells you to pay as opposed to putting in a little work.

2. What is the most you would pay? Is there a limit?

3. For the girls. Why do you do it?


I am not one who will ever pay for sex but that is my personal opinion. Not right or wrong, just my own deal. I am curious what others think about this.

I used to and quite enjoyed some girls. But I grew tired of the experience because due to the very nature, there is an artificiality to the experience. It's nearly impossible to connect at a heart level and soul level. When I have sex with transgendered women, I love the dynamic between a man and a woman - the eye contact, the sensual deepthroat kissing, the languid penetrations and gropings and prolonged gasps and groans.

That having been said, my first sexual experience of any duration was with a gg prostitute near Molin Rouge in Paris. I was 13 and quite pleased with my selection. I entered her, promptly popped my load and we had a nice conversation in the elevator down. Empty and exhilerating. For years, I preferred street girls (I'm surprised I am not a French tickler) and alleyways and animalistic mutual maulings.

But now I've lived through that and I'm over it. God bless the girls and johns - stay safe out there.

[BeardedOne]

1. Why do you do it? What compells you to pay as opposed to putting in a little work.

I put in thirty years of work, hundreds of thousands (Possibly millions) in lost income/opportunities, thousands in meds and alcohol, yada, yada, yada.

I pay for it when I can afford it, because it is more economical and less emotionally and mentally damaging.



Someone said there would be pizza here.

[Felicia Katt]

I used to and quite enjoyed some girls. But I grew tired of the experience because due to the very nature, there is an artificiality to the experience. It's nearly impossible to connect at a heart level and soul level. When I have sex with transgendered women, I love the dynamic between a man and a woman - the eye contact, the sensual deepthroat kissing, the languid penetrations and gropings and prolonged gasps and groans.

That having been said, my first sexual experience of any duration was with a gg prostitute near Molin Rouge in Paris. I was 13 and quite pleased with my selection. I entered her, promptly popped my load and we had a nice conversation in the elevator down. Empty and exhilerating. For years, I preferred street girls (I'm surprised I am not a French tickler) and alleyways and animalistic mutual maulings.

But now I've lived through that and I'm over it. God bless the girls and johns - stay safe out there.

for some reason, this reminscence brought to my mind this one:

The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... very well, where do i begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

meow

FK

[dan_drade]

OK, here is my deal. There was a time a few years back (well, it was more like 6 years ago). I had just gotten separated and was going through a divorce. I did not have the time or the energy to have a realtionship nor did i have the need to have a girlfriend. So, I turned to the girls that don't want anything to do with me other than take my money and show me a good time. The funny thing is that a couple of the actually asked me if I wanted to be their boyfriend. At that time I said no, but if I was looking for a girlfriend at that time I might have taken them up on it.
The first few girls I met were all very nice and acommadating, so I decided to do it some more. All in all I have no complaints about any of the girls that I saw and If I am in the same position at some time down the road, I'll probably do the same thing.
The one thing that I learned in that time was that working girls are just like everone else. They are just poeple that wre working for a living to bay the bills the best way they know how.

[ukcuriousboy]

I used to and quite enjoyed some girls. But I grew tired of the experience because due to the very nature, there is an artificiality to the experience. It's nearly impossible to connect at a heart level and soul level. When I have sex with transgendered women, I love the dynamic between a man and a woman - the eye contact, the sensual deepthroat kissing, the languid penetrations and gropings and prolonged gasps and groans.

That having been said, my first sexual experience of any duration was with a gg prostitute near Molin Rouge in Paris. I was 13 and quite pleased with my selection. I entered her, promptly popped my load and we had a nice conversation in the elevator down. Empty and exhilerating. For years, I preferred street girls (I'm surprised I am not a French tickler) and alleyways and animalistic mutual maulings.

But now I've lived through that and I'm over it. God bless the girls and johns - stay safe out there.

for some reason, this reminscence brought to my mind this one:

The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... very well, where do i begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

meow

FK

LMAO.

give your father a hug.

[vanished]

Glad I shared Kitty Kat! lol

Actually the other post that mine was reminscent of was entirely better in every way. Far funnier, far more flippant and flagrant and foaming with fun. I however was bolted and locked into the rigid rigor mortis of my ever crumbling past, a bridge that once built is ground to dust with each step forward. I must write now - for the next three days straight and this will be my last bit of entertainment. Fragmented fascination, yet focused emotional fornication.

Tempted to go to the Allanah-less Allanah party to see our darlings tonight but frankly, I have no choice - I am compelled to sign off, turn on and zero in to write the best thing I have ever written in three days of my life. Perhaps I will - I know I can - I must and allow this lifetime to transform itself into meanngful creativity rather than mastibatory charlitanism. Concubines, cubists and cornholers all!

My obsession must now begin, separating itself from my obsession for HA.

You Kat are a Goddess and here is to your continued health, beauty, happiness, humor and harmless fun. Oh that I had rather detonated the virginal equivalent of a suicide bombing that erupted in the Parisian Pussy, rather in some much more appropriate, wonderous transgendered fare -- alas, if we knew what we knew now then, then we would know now to know better forever.

More absinthe and rose hips.

Z