not every job is all doom and gloom and shit stains on my carpet. if it was i sure as fuck wouldn't be doing it. if i was some useless whore there is no way i could make a living out of this. word travels quick. clients talk. if you're a dud fuck you'll be out of business in no time
i got a good reputation. i got excellent reviews online. i enjoy my job. 90% of the work i get is great. most of my clients are pretty good. the disasters and misadventures i put on this blog are just a hell of a lot more entertaining for people to read. who the fuck wants to read about a guy who's the hero of all his stories? sure sometimes i've become the McGuyver of the sex industry, saving the day by using a sock and an electrical cord to bound and gag a client at a moment notice. it's just the anti-hero is more interesting
a few weeks back i had possibly one of the best jobs ever. nothing amazing. just memorable for one very simple reason.
i rocked up to a little apartment in the innerwest of Sydney. nice enough guy. i sit down on his sofa while he goes to the kitchen to get us a drink. it's tough in these situations, you sit and wait and try not to analyse the fuck out of someone by their furnishings, music and dvd collection. what struck me was the music he was playing. i knew what was playing and i loved it
one of the toughest things i find about doing outcalls and going to a clients home is not their decor and looks-like-nanna-just-died couches. it's not the pictures of family littering the walls, their dead eyes grinning while i stab my cock into their uncle (or sometimes father's) shit hole. it's not the fact that they're clearly spending more on me in an hour than they pay for a whole week to rent the shitbox studio apartment they live in.
it's the music. dear god, the music.
sometimes it starts with good intentions and non-offensive club music, then toward the end of a session the 5-stacker CD player suddenly switches to opera. i've had club mixes of the song from Titanic and the Brokeback Mountain theme (that i didn't recognise, but the client pointed it out). Hed Kandi, ministry of sound and god-awful local dj mix cds. thankfully, a lot of the time it's just the soundtrack to the porn playing or it's something i can tune out. sometimes it's impossible. one guy had the best of Sting playing. you know how difficult it is to maintain an erection, fucking someone up the arse with their pointy leather cowboy boots over your shoulder, yelling your name over and over along to Sting singing how earnestly the Russians love their children too?
so when i sat down in this little innerwest apartment. heard this beautiful track playing. i settle right into the cushions of the sofa with a huge grin on my face. the guy walked back into the room with our drinks and the first thing i said was: "this is The Necks, yeah?"
he was stunned. "wow! well spotted!" he almost forgot to hand me my drink. we chatted a bit. had a fucking great time. after we were done i hung around for almost another hour just chatting. awesome guy. turns out i was his present to himself for 10years of damn hard work.
if you're ever gonna have sex - the music is important. it's what is going to cover up any awkward silence. it's what you are gonna hear underneath all the dirty talk and filthy sounds of wet slapping genitals.
it's super important. make sure it's good. you can't go wrong with the Necks
i got a good reputation. i got excellent reviews online. i enjoy my job. 90% of the work i get is great. most of my clients are pretty good. the disasters and misadventures i put on this blog are just a hell of a lot more entertaining for people to read. who the fuck wants to read about a guy who's the hero of all his stories? sure sometimes i've become the McGuyver of the sex industry, saving the day by using a sock and an electrical cord to bound and gag a client at a moment notice. it's just the anti-hero is more interesting
a few weeks back i had possibly one of the best jobs ever. nothing amazing. just memorable for one very simple reason.
i rocked up to a little apartment in the innerwest of Sydney. nice enough guy. i sit down on his sofa while he goes to the kitchen to get us a drink. it's tough in these situations, you sit and wait and try not to analyse the fuck out of someone by their furnishings, music and dvd collection. what struck me was the music he was playing. i knew what was playing and i loved it
one of the toughest things i find about doing outcalls and going to a clients home is not their decor and looks-like-nanna-just-died couches. it's not the pictures of family littering the walls, their dead eyes grinning while i stab my cock into their uncle (or sometimes father's) shit hole. it's not the fact that they're clearly spending more on me in an hour than they pay for a whole week to rent the shitbox studio apartment they live in.
it's the music. dear god, the music.
sometimes it starts with good intentions and non-offensive club music, then toward the end of a session the 5-stacker CD player suddenly switches to opera. i've had club mixes of the song from Titanic and the Brokeback Mountain theme (that i didn't recognise, but the client pointed it out). Hed Kandi, ministry of sound and god-awful local dj mix cds. thankfully, a lot of the time it's just the soundtrack to the porn playing or it's something i can tune out. sometimes it's impossible. one guy had the best of Sting playing. you know how difficult it is to maintain an erection, fucking someone up the arse with their pointy leather cowboy boots over your shoulder, yelling your name over and over along to Sting singing how earnestly the Russians love their children too?
so when i sat down in this little innerwest apartment. heard this beautiful track playing. i settle right into the cushions of the sofa with a huge grin on my face. the guy walked back into the room with our drinks and the first thing i said was: "this is The Necks, yeah?"
he was stunned. "wow! well spotted!" he almost forgot to hand me my drink. we chatted a bit. had a fucking great time. after we were done i hung around for almost another hour just chatting. awesome guy. turns out i was his present to himself for 10years of damn hard work.
if you're ever gonna have sex - the music is important. it's what is going to cover up any awkward silence. it's what you are gonna hear underneath all the dirty talk and filthy sounds of wet slapping genitals.
it's super important. make sure it's good. you can't go wrong with the Necks
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