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A New York Escorts Confessions
Carnival of Sin #10
My baby’s all grown up! This week, HeroineGirl’s published a veritable cornucopia of sinful articles. In addition to making amazing graphics for the Carnival, HG’s managed to convince a bunch of cool bloggers to either set up shop or to donate prizes to the Carnival.
HeroineGirl even drafted me into staffing the kissing booth. The blogger who leaves the best virtual kiss in a comment to this post gets a personal chat session with me via IM. What have I gotten myself into now?
So cum play with us at this week’s Carnival! It’ll be live on HeroineGirl’s site until tomorrow.
The next carnival is on Monday, February 7, and will be hosted on my blog. Submit your articles now!
Love Potion
I started kissin’ everything in sight
But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine
As my friends know, I am a complete and unrepentant chocoholic. So when Jen asked if I wanted to go to the Hot Chocolate Festival yesterday, I happily agreed. Sipping the original Aztec love potion might just be the pickup that I needed to get over the weekend blues.
Arriving at 18th St., I experienced some doubts about our little outing. The police had blocked the street on which City Bakery sits and the entire block was overrun with the downtown Prada crowd with their kids and miscellaneous NYU students. The bakery had set up various kiddie activities such as snowman building and ice-skating on a synthetic rink on the street. (Some psychotic kid even made a snowman to practice his serial killer skills.)
Sipping City Bakery’s decadent potion of melted chocolate, though, erased all doubts. This exquisite love potion bathed my yearning tongue with its velvety texture and infused my brain with all sorts of good feelings. The homemade marshmallow added the perfect counterpoint with its ooey-gooey goodness. I started imagining how good it would feel to have a river of warm chocolate pour down my body in between by breasts and have some hot boy toy clean me up with his tongue… (Of course, I only imagined it. I tried it once in real life, but the ensuing mess spoiled all the fun!)
Not satisfied with just one cup, Jen and I endured the long lines again to get seconds.
Is hot chocolate an aphrodisiac or not? I don’t know. But I do know that City Bakery makes a really good cup of it. Best ever.
Weekend Blues
This whole weekend has sucked. Big time.
My high school friend Sean called at the last minute to cancel our plans for drinks because a partner at his law firm dumped work on him. Since he had to finish the work by Saturday morning, he couldn’t go out and needed to pull an all-nighter at the office. He asked if we could reschedule for next week.
Although I was disappointed that we wouldn’t see each other last night, I was even more disappointed because I turned down a client appointment so we could go out.
Strike one…
Then I confronted Candi about that client who wanted a discount.
“I heard that you offered X a discount…”
“Yes?”
“So is it true?” What the fuck does that mean?
“Yes it is.”
“How could you do that?” How dare you go stealing my clients from me??
“Hey, he asked me for my number. What’s wrong with that?”
“Um, you’re stealing my client…” I can’t believe how much of a bitch you are! I bring both of us a lot of business and you go stealing my clients? MY clients??
“No, I’m not! We’re all free agents. If he wants to be with me, then that’s his business.”
“OK. Look. It’s clear that we can’t work together anymore.” Stay the hell away from MY clients!!
“Fine.”
“Fine!” Have a good life. Don’t ever call me again!
I slam the phone down.
Strike two…
Finally, I ended up losing a couple hundred dollars playing poker online to some jackass who made a really stupid call and got lucky on the river.
Strike three…
I hope that tomorrow gets better…
Happy Australia Day
Happy Australia Day everyone! Oops… I guess Australia Day was yesterday. Seeing a bunch of kangaroos cheered me up admist the damn cold weather we’re experiencing in NYC.
Now if only I could find me some hot Aussie stud with a pint of Fosters to ride. Giddyap!
Maybe Ian Thorpe… Definitely Ian Thorpe. Even with his big nose.
Bukkake, Definition Of
Someone asked me where I got the definition of bukkake. I found it on Wikipedia. Here is the full definition for those who are interested:
The practice supposedly originated in the feudal age in Japan to punish unfaithful women – a woman who had disgraced her husband was first tied to a post in a kneeling position and then forced to endure being ejaculated on by every man in the community. However, this is most likely an urban myth as the practice originated in Japanese pornographic movies. The most likely explanation is that in Japanese pornography, male and female genitalia cannot be shown and are therefore either pixellated or blurred. However, semen may be shown, thus the only practical way to make Japanese pornography more extreme and “hardcore” is to increase the amount of semen, hence the invention of bukkake-style videos. In Japanese pornography, bukkake is usually portrayed as an act of erotic humiliation, while as western pornography tends to portray it as an enjoyable act.
Bukkake is the base form of a Japanese verb, but used alone it is a noun meaning to splash or dash. The verb bukkakeru (to dash [water]) can be decomposed into two verbs: butsu (ぶつ) and kakeru (掛ける). Butsu literally means to hit, but in this usage it appears to be an intensive prefix as in buttamageru (ぶったまげる) or butchigiri (ぶっちぎり). Kakeru means to shower or pour.
Indeed, bukkake is more commonly used in Japan to describe a type of dish where the toppings are poured on top of noodles, as in bukkake-udon and bukkake-soba.
A “lite” version of bukkake also exists, and is known as “gokkun”. Gokkun is an onomatopoeia, which translates into English as “gulp”, i.e., the sound one makes swallowing. People outside of Japan often mistake gokkun for bukkake.
Many women have gone public regarding their sexual enjoyment of bukkake, including Dr. Susan Block and Catherine Millet.
A number of sources have stated that bukkake may have a non-obvious risk of infection by HIV and other blood-borne infections such as hepatitis through semen contacting the surface of the eye.
Betrayal
I hate her! I hate her! I HATE HER!
About a couple months ago, Candi and I started providing two girl fantasies for some of our clients. (Candi’s her escorting name, not her real name) Candi and I have known each other for a while — we met when both of us worked for Allison.
The arrangements were really simple. We’d charge the client twice as much as we’d charge him for a solo session. If Candi brought in the client, she’d get 25% of my fee and I’d get only 75%. If I brought in the client, the opposite would be true.
We never discussed poaching each other’s clients. I just assumed that we wouldn’t do that.
Bad assumption… One of my regulars called me a half hour ago to tell me that Candi had offered him a discount if he scheduled with her instead of me. He asked if he could get the same discount with me.
I’m SO mad right now at that bitch! How could she do this to me?? Especially since I’d been bringing in eighty percent of the clients who asked for the two girl fantasies!
I haven’t had enough time to figure out exactly how to deal with this situation. But one thing’s clear — we’re through. Now if only I could find out which clients she’s managed to steal…
Got Bukkake?
Bukkake (noun) — a group sex practice wherein a series of men takes turns ejaculating on a kneeling woman or man. There are strong overtones of erotic humiliation in this practice. When the term bukkake is used in Japan, it usually refers to a method of preparing noodles and not the sexual act. (derived from the Japanese ぶっかけ)
Liz, the Devil in a Red Dress, recently sent me this email after her story “Last Tango in Cambridge” was published in the Carnival of Sin.
All the best,
Liz
Do you want to get your blog splooged by hordes of other bloggers? Submit your best article to the Carnival of Sin then!
Don’t worry if you wrote the story a while ago. Chances are that most people who visit won’t have read it before.
Heroine Girl will publish the next Carnival of Sin is on Monday, January 31.
Felicitous Feces
Rainer and I met at a small neighborhood bistro on the Upper West Side this afternoon. We planned to eat a late lunch and then retire to his apartment for a couple hours. Although I live only a few blocks from the bistro, negotiating the remaining mounds of snow in the mid-70’s still presented serious challenges for my Manolo’s.
(Update: For you non-New Yorkers, mid-70’s means between 72nd and 78th streets on the west side of the Park — not 72-78 degrees. Someone sent me an email calling me a liar because it’s still cold in NYC. Duh! :P )
So why the hell did I wear Manolo’s after this weekend’s blizzard? Let’s just say that Rainer is a real stickler for appearances — he’s an old-school European in that way. Anyway, I figured that I could handle a couple of blocks in heels because the city had already cleared most of the snow. I’m just happy that he was OK with me wearing pants. Venturing into the cold in the mini-skirts that he usually prefers would’ve been no fun even with a heavy overcoat.
(I wonder what the Manolo would think of the walking of the Manolo’s in the snow?)
While waiting for our appetizers to arrive, I asked to be excused so that I could pee. Before granting permission, Rainer asked me in a hushed tone whether I had panties on.
Of course, I didn’t. Rainer likes to fantasize about my pussy getting wet without any panties.
After I told him “No,” Rainer’s mouth formed the slightest of smiles. He nodded his head and said in his light German accent, “You may go then.”
The first hints that something was wrong occurred shortly after I lowered my pants to sit on the toilet.
A loud fart explodes out of the adjacent stall and startles me. In my hurry to enter my stall, I hadn’t realized that someone was in the next stall. A series of squeakers follows along with several plops, gloops and even grunts. Soon, fingers of noxious fumes creep through the various cracks between our stalls. Surrounding me with the stench of rotten eggs, they begin to choke me — or at least it feels that way because I can’t breather through my nose any longer.
Hurriedly finishing my business, I wipe myself with a fold of toilet paper, wash my hands and flee back to the bistro’s main dining area.
Curious about the person who had made such an uncouth ruckus at the toilet, I kept glancing at the restroom door after sitting down. Rainer got peeved because I was a bit distracted and he didn’t understand why. But I couldn’t help it. I just had to know; and unfortunately, the humor of the situation would’ve been wasted on my stern German companion.
Several minutes later, a petite, elegant and older Asian lady walked out. She blew me away — literally and figuratively. She’s the last type of woman I’d expect to engage in such un-ladylike behavior!
Now don’t get me wrong. Although I’m self-conscious about pooping around others and am a toilet farter, I know that we all poop — my shit stinks just as bad as everyone else’s. When you gotta go, you gotta go.
But if you gotta go when others are around, please make liberal use of the courtesy flush, especially if you’re on a toilet that doesn’t need to refill between flushes. Courtesy flushes are essential to minimizing the nasty odors. And, for the love of god, refrain from those ungodly grunts!
Rainer and I ended up finishing our lunch and enjoying several hours of playtime. As a caring woman, I couldn’t let thoughts of the bathroom showdown interfere any more.
I absolutely had to share this experience, though. And so here I am writing it on my blog.
Carnival of Sin #9
My baby’s growing up.
When I first started the Carnival of Sin in November, I wasn’t quite sure how long I’d keep it going. Nor was I sure how much interest there’d be in it. It’s been almost three months now, though, and the Carnival is still going strong. And some bloggers have reported getting as many as 500 new visitors as a result of the Carnival.
This is the last week that I’ll be publishing it alone, though.
Several other sexy bloggers have graciously agreed to co-publish the Carnival with me. Yay! We’ve expanded the Carnival’s scope to include all seven deadly sins and have changed the selection criteria a bit to ensure that you get even fresher content.
Next week’s Carnival will be published by Heroine Girl. Go to this page to read our new guidelines and to submit your article.
In the meantime, here’s this week’s Carnival. My favorite stories are “How to Shoot Like a Porn Star” (Entry #9), where Nina and Rita conduct some field research on how to increase the volume of ejaculate, and “Say it with me… . .FUCKING NASTY” (Entry #8), where Rebecca relates her experience of getting propositioned by her married cousin.
When I first saw the title for Rebecca’s article, I thought, “can’t she think of something more creative?” After reading about her experiences, though, I just had to say “FUCKING NASTY!”
The Male Evolution by Casey Shanks
Ecstasy by Jen
Unfrickingbelievable by tornshorts
Perfect Resident Life by Mad House Madman
At last! a post related to what this blog is supposed to be about! by The Prisoner
Deeper Side by Dante
Parker — Chapter 1 by Dr. Barefoot
Say it with me… . .FUCKING NASTY by Rebecca
How to Shoot Like a Porn Star by Nina and Rita
Plight of the Asian (American) Male: A Follow-Up by Toni
Call the Center by rf
Problem Thong by Jen
Mini Me
More than a few people have asked what I look like. While I still need to preserve my anonymity, I spent the last couple hours trying to satisfy your curiousity by creating a doll that really looks like me on eLouai’s Candybar Doll Maker.
The Candybar Doll Maker site is amazing! You can choose from over 500 bottoms, 600 tops, 800 hair styles and a myriad of other options. The possibilities are mindboggling. I’m going to have to ask Male Gigolo, a literary and math genius, for help in computing exactly how many possible combinations I can make. I’m hooked.
Speaking of Mini Me… I don’t really like the black wristband — it seems sorta 80’s to me. But the wristband comes with the top and the doll is wearing one of my favorite outfits for going out with friends.
Are you surprised that I wear glasses?
With clients, I always wear contacts of course. With friends or when I’m just curling up by myself reading, though, I take my contacts out because they dry up my eyes. I’ve wanted to get Lasik surgery for a while but am still totally freaked out by the thought of a doctor cutting my eyes up.
Catch the Dildo
My crazy Dutch lover Attu just asked me to catch his dildo. Although I’m not quite sure where he’s put that thing before giving it to me, he assures me that it’s completely clean because he washed it in his dishwasher. No residual DNA or bodily fluids.
Against my better instincts, I decide to catch it, play with it and then pass it along…
1. Have you ever used toys or other things during sex?
Um, I think that the better question might be do you ever have sex without toys or other things? Ever since I got my first dildo at a fuckerware party in college, I haven’t looked back. Actually, that’s not 100% true. I did look back once during college, when I was exploring my sexuality. But only because a girlfriend was pulling my hair too hard while driving her strap-on dildo into me. Ouch!
Speaking of dildos or butt plugs… Check out Rectal Foreign Bodies, a site dedicated to exploring all the strange things that get can get stuck in your anus.
2. Would you consider using dildos or other sexual toys in the future?
Not only would I consider it. I have to continue using dildos and other sex toys so long as my boys demand it. Market forces. You know?
3. What is your kinkiest fantasy you have yet to realize?
It may not be all that kinky, but my fantasy is to someday fall in love with that special someone who truly turns me on inside and out.
4. Who gave you this dildo?
When my secret Santa Attu sent his dildo to me, how could I refuse?
5. Who are the ones to recieve this dildo from you?
Well, first on my list is one of my favorite boys A Boy & His Toy.
Next would have to be Raymi the Minx. She is just the type of hottie needed to warm up those cold Canadian winters!
I’m also curious to see if people down under use dildos any differently so am passing it along to Heroine Girl.
Finally, here’s a shout out or a dildo pass to Toni, who owns Kaonagashi Ga Suki. Toni’s been trying to keep her blog a PG-13 blog, but I’m trying my best to corrupt her. :)
Blast from the Past
“Hello?”
“Alexa?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Hi, Alexa. I’m Sean.”
“Sean?” I don’t have any clients named Sean. Also, he’s called my personal cell phone number that only my family and close friends have.
“Yeah. From high school. Remember me?”
“Oh my god! Hi, Sean!”
“You sound a little surprised.”
“Well, it’s been so long since high school.”
So the boy who I had a crush on in high school is in New York. He graduated from law school last year and moved here last fall to work as a lawyer.
We’re going to meet next week for drinks and maybe dinner. I wonder if he’ll recognize me — I’ve changed a lot since those awkward high school days.
Friendly Advice
I usually don’t say bad things about other people. The golden rule and all, you know? (Well, maybe I’ve said some nasty things about Bush, but that’s different!)
Even when some readers wrote mean things about me on my own blog, I’ve been more amused then anything else. 300 lb. man in Nebraska, indeed! At least put me in a blue state if you have to imagine me being anywhere…
Recently, though, a new reader started posting such ridiculous comments that he’s begging to be mocked. So, just this once, I’ll break my rule. :)
Here’s a comment that he wrote in response to my post about married men and escorts.
I’m not quite sure what a “convidence” is. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve never had one. Nor have I ever lost one.
So you’ve slept with both a wife and her husband without either knowing about the other? Sounds just a bit unlikely. Maybe they both picked up a copy of the Village Voice, though, and happened to independently zero in on your ad because of your impressive physique and your obvious gift with the written word…
Oprah and Dr. Phil, watch out! American GigoLo is the new game in town, and he’s going to put you out of business with such insightful advice. I must’ve missed the party bus, though, because I didn’t know that the 50% of Americans who don’t get divorced are all swingers.
btw : this nyhotties is fake ;-) sorry to melt up your dream, but she is not real, it is imaginary, how I know, several reasons…
could explain but the comment would be longer than the post, just visit my site, and read the differences, I have each day a client, and write about it, she just fantasises about
people and money but probably a poor wannabee that once got abducted by rapists instead of aliens LOL
Some people have accused me of being fake before, but this is the first time that anyone’s confronted me with such compelling logic. I know you’re fake, but I’m too lazy to say why. Also, I do have each day a client and write about it. Therefore, I must be real. Rene Descartes, eat your heart out!
just waiting for the opinions and reactions,
1001? Wow. Are you sure this isn’t a typo? Maybe you meant 101, as in 101 Dalmations?
If you’d really like to copulate with Fido, then I can introduce you to my former client. I’m not sure if he would pay $10,000 to see you have sex with his Labrador, but it never hurts to ask, right? Of course, if you do get the gig, then don’t blow your load on dime bags, OK?
Anyways…
It turns out that American GigoLo just recently started his own blog a couple weeks ago. Most of his comments appear to be crude attempts to generate some publicity for this new blog. Since I like checking out new blogs, I followed the link to his. Unfortunately, his writing is pathetic.
Since I’m a nice person, though, I’ll conclude with some advice to help American GigoLo build a more successful blog.
If you want to rip into someone’s blog, fine. Do it. But please don’t try to promote your blog while doing it. It’s just bad form.
More importantly, the key to a good blog is good writing. Check out Postmodern Courtesan or Mistress Matisse if you need any role models. I’d also recommend Belle de Jour, but am afraid that she might be beyond you.
See John run. See John kneel. See John suck on cock… That just doesn’t cut it. Sorry.
xoxo,
Alexa
Brrr… It’s Cold In Here!
There must be some Toros in the at-mos-phere.
The unseasonably warm NYC winter has finally ended. Until yesterday, I managed to walk out on most days with only a light coat on. Everything changed, though, as the temperature dropped into the teens today. Damn. It’s freezing now! I realized just how cold it was when my slightly damp hair froze on the way to meet my friend for lunch. Eeek!
Speaking of freezing, what the hell is the girl on the right doing wearing only a miniskirt today without stockings or even a pantyhose? (I took a pic of her with my cell phone.) I may be a slave to fashion, but she’s a downright masochist…
Hypocrisy
Some readers recently asked me how I could help married men cheat on their spouses after having experienced the pain that my father’s own infidelity caused.
Needless to say, my views on sexuality, masturbation and marriage have evolved significantly since I was a bible study leader. I can’t even begin to imagine what the old me would’ve thought of the current me — my parents sheltered me so much back then!
Seeing so many men break their commitments to their wives or girlfriends has reduced the bitterness caused by my father’s having sex with some nubile secretary. Vows of fidelity no longer mean what they used to mean. Nor, do I think, did they ever mean what they should have meant. As much as they might try to deny it, many men (and women) have some needs that can’t be satisfied within the bounds of a traditional marriage.
I am still quite bitter, though, at how my dad completely deceived my mom and deserted us for a pretty face and a fresh piece of ass (she really didn’t have much in the way of boobs). If he wanted to have some fun, fine. But by leaving us and actively screwing my mom out of a just settlement, my dad wrecked our family. Rather than providing for the family that he built over twenty years, he gave all of his money and possessions to some secretary who knew how to polish his dick off just right.
Given the pain that I’ve experienced, I believe that I serve a very useful role. I’m a little pressure release valve that lets men occasionally satisfy their kinkier desires without dissolving their marriages or families. They may stay with me for an hour or a weekend, but they always return to their wives or girlfriends.
There is no room for confusion with me because the relationship is purely commercial — companionship for money. I may provide most of my clients with a GFE, but any girlfriend experience is purely an illusion that both my clients and I maintain. I may like most of my clients, but I’ll never love them. In the back of our minds, we all know that I’m there only as long as they pay my fees.
In the end, my dad got what he deserved. His secretary left him a couple years later for some younger and richer guy. Apparently, she also took a good chunk of his assets…
Carnival of Sin #8
My favorite story from this week’s Carnival of Sin is “Last Tango in Cambridge” (Entry #9). Although Liz and I probably were in Boston at different times, it seems that we both partied with some wild boys from Harvard Law School! Just because you’re brainy doesn’t mean you can’t be kinky…
The next Carnival of Sin is on January 24. Submit your entries here!
In Between Her by The Nameless Blogger
No Noise Is Good Noise by David Tellez
Bacchanalia by Evan Peterson
Resolution — Done! by Rod
The Kid Who Sits Behind You Explains Romeo and Juliet by jay purple
A Girl’s Best Friend by Jay
In My Head by Bent
Its Deca 31, Buck… by Ken
Last Tango in Cambridge by liz
Norma Snockers by Katherine
How not to settle a land dispute “western” style by Jess
Another Roadside Attraction… by Johnny Landotter
Inside Of Me by Miss. Stolenswan
Tainted Love by Sherriff
Love With Laughter by Dr. Barefoot
Photography Session by red
What’ve I got to Complain about? by Frankie the Flake
Hangin’ Tough by Toni
Again — Prologue by Presley
My Reading Habits by Casey Shanks
Dropping Jewish Hairpins by Sean Wilson
The colour of sexy?? by Wardi
Adventures on the porcelain throne by Mattias
What Does The Year Of The Wooden Rooster Hold? by Mason
Park City Redux
Thank you everyone for your concern. Fortunately, we’re safe and the avalanche didn’t affect Eric and me at all.
Eric and I returned from Park City last night. Although Sundance Film Festival goers had already started to arrive en masse by late last week, we extended our stay in Park City by a day to catch some last minute snowboarding. With all the fresh snow, conditions on the slopes were perfect and we just had to ride for one more day.
Eric made my day (or should I say week?) when he called to ask if I’d be available for a week of snowboarding in Park City. Utah has some of the best conditions that I’ve seen in my five years of snowboarding — huge mountains that almost never get crowded and tons of fresh snow.
Besides riding in amazing Utah snow, I was also excited about trying out my new equipment. Last Christmas, I treated myself to a new set of Flow bindings and boa boots. For those who don’t know, this is the perfect gear for lazy people. You don’t have to tie any boot laces — you just turn this clicky knob that tightens your boots for you — and you simply step into the bindings and close them with one snap.
Ordinarily, I’m not lazy, especially when it comes to looking good — most Flow bindings have a big, ugly black patch that covers the front of your boots. But when it comes to sitting on your tush in cold snow and fiddling with your binding straps or cutting your hands as you tighten the laces on your boots, less is more. Besides, I got a girl’s version of the Flows and they’re much prettier!
I digress…
We split our days pretty evenly between riding at Park City and the Canyons. As expected, the conditions were perfect with tons of fresh snow and gorgeous vistas all around. Why can’t the East Coast have mountains like this??
Fortunately, the avalanche didn’t really affect us because we stuck mostly to the groomed blue and easy black diamond runs. We made occasional forays into the powdery areas on the sides of the runs, where we threaded in and out of the trees. Watching Blue Crush is the closest that I’ve ever come to surfing, but I imagine riding on top of powder feels a lot like surfing. When riding on powder, your board undulates over little swells of snow and you gradually push the powder aside to turn rather than carving your edges into the mountain.
The closest I came to danger was in the terrain park at the Canyons. I usually like to ride on groomed snow. Steep runs are fine as long as the snow is flat. But Eric persuaded me to try out a little jump. I listened to him and ended up doing a full face plant instead — stupid me. Eric tried to tell me how I could do it if I just shifted my weight differently coming off the jump, but I didn’t try again. One face plant is enough! :) Watching the kiddies do all their crazy tricks off the rails, jumps and the half-pipe was a lot of fun, though.
After a full day of snowboarding, we usually retired to Eric’s condo near Main Street for a session in the hot tub to relax our tired legs. Sometimes, we ventured out to the restaurants for dinner. On other nights, Eric cooked for both of us. Invariably, we ended up in front of his huge crackling fireplace, where we exchanged sensual massages and had a quickie before going to bed.
Eric may have not been that great a chef or a lover, but I didn’t complain. He’s a lot of fun to be around and he treated me like his little princess for the whole week. Most importantly, he is always so sweet.
So now that I’m back in my apartment, I just want to go back.
Park City
Contrary to what one reader asked via email, I’ve not been abducted by aliens.
Eric, one of my favorite boy toys, surprised me last week by offering to take me snowboarding for a week in Park City. The people who were supposed to rent his cabin cancelled at the last minute, and his wife left for a business trip to Asia.
I’m psyched about the trip because I just love snowboarding out west — much better than resorts on the East Coast like Killington.
Unfortunately, I can’t blog much until I get back, though, since none of my clients knows about my blog. I’m sneaking a peak at my own blog through Eric’s laptop while he’s sleeping…
I’ll be back on Saturday night and put up a post on Sunday.
Nominated for 2005 Bloggies!
Rhys Wynne, a reader from the UK, just nominated me for the 2005 Bloggies award. Yay! Here’s what Rhys writes about me in his blog:
I don’t know what it means to piss over Belle. I’m pretty sure, though, that she wouldn’t like it. :)
A potential golden shower for Belle aside, I’d be forever grateful to you if you could also nominate me for one of the bloggies. I probably won’t win anything, but the more nominations I get the more chance I have of at least becoming a finalist! (You can nominate blogs until Jan 10.)
Some readers nominated me for the Best of Blogs (BoB) award earlier. But I didn’t really publicize it because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep blogging. Now that I’ve decided to keep on blogging, I’d love to get some award or two.
Now, I’m off to whore myself elsewhere to get more nominations!
Open Water
The weather has been depressingly wet these days in New York. So Sandy, a good friend from college, invited me to her place for a girls’ night with DVD’s and Ben and Jerry’s. We ended up renting Open Water, a movie about a scuba diving couple who get stranded in the ocean when their boat leaves them behind.
Open Water is a disturbing movie that accomplishes much with very little. For almost the entire movie, you only see 2 divers floating in the ocean with nothing else around them. Although occasional sharks and jellyfish venture close, they quickly disappear until the end. Also, the divers themselves engage in mostly small talk. Even when Blanchard Ryan and her boyfriend fight, they fight quietly. Blanchard starts by giving her boyfriend the silent treatment. Then they argue about whose job caused them to go on this vacation versus a ski vacation.
There are no histrionics or melodramatic speeches.
And yet, it is the very normalcy of the dialogue and interactions between Blanchard and her boyfriend that makes this extraordinary situation very real. I could just imagine arguing or talking like that with one of my ex’s.
The most disturbing aspect of Open Water is the slow realization that everything that we hold to be important means nothing when you’re alone in the open ocean. With a pack of hungry sharks lurking close and no one else around for miles, principles such as fairness, fault and even love mean nothing.
The movie ends in a quiet and almost anticlimactic manner, but even that just adds to its realism.
After watching Open Water, Sandy and I had to watch a Seinfeld re-run to combat the ill feeling we had from watching the movie. It really managed to get under our skin!
Despite the depressing nature of the movie, seeing Blanchard Ryan fully naked at the beginning was a real highlight — she’s a total hottie! Speaking of naked shots of hotties, I got the pic of Blanchard from some guy’s selection of the “Top 20 Nude Scenes, Year 2004”. Although Blanchard and some of the other celebrities look absolutely fabulous, some of the other celebrities such as Neve Campbell don’t look so hot with their flabby boobs.
Carnival of Sin #7
Welcome to the first Carnival of Sin in 2005! One of my favorite entries comes from the Red Sneaker Diaries (entry #4), where red describes her experience of getting her clitoris pierced. I’ve always been fascinated and a bit frightened about getting a piercing there…
Next Carnival’s on January 10. Submit your entries here.
Anniversary Night by Phin
The Cynical Career Counsellor Explains your Future as an Art Critic by jay purple
Dr. Striplove; or, How I Learned to Stop Slapping My Ass and Work the Pole by Whitters
Vertical Clit Hood Piercing by red
Son dur com un sas by Stef
Achievements by Jess
Shaving It by Karl Elvis
“Republican-Lite®”, Or, “Losing the Abortion Rhetoric War” by Sean Wilson
The Love I Saw In You Was Just A Mirage by xaviera
American Censorship and Homogenous Cinema by Paul
License to Pry by Mad House Madman
Thumb Sucking Sex by Rod
Fish Breath by Amberjane
Abandoning the feet by Laura Wrubleski
Why I voted for the Pats 1st Superbowl Win in Boston’s Greatest Sports Moment poll… by mr blackandwhite
Maybe Next Year by yatesy
Mom and Me
I’m back in New York now. Hopped on the Delta shuttle tonight and returned home a couple hours ago.
Before leaving Virginia, I took my mom shopping for clothes at Tysons Corner, a mall in McLean. She’s going on a date this coming weekend and needed a real makeover. Although one of my friends once told me that Mom’s a MILF, she usually hides her body under below-the-knee skirts and conservative blouses and jackets that do little to accentuate her form.
To not frighten her too much, I started Mom at Lord and Taylor, where she usually shops. But we got progressively bolder throughout the day. Ultimately, we ended up at bebe, where I found the perfect outfit for her. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a soft pink off the shoulder sweater that showed just the slightest hint of her flat belly. She may be 50, but I swear that she looked closer to 40 or even 35 once she put the outfit on. Mom’s aged remarkably well — I just hope that I look this good when I’m her age!
Is it weird for me to talk about my mom in this way?
Until my parents’ divorce when I was in college, I thought about Mom and Dad as parents rather than people. They were in a similar class as my high school teachers, who had no life and ceased to exist outside the classroom. As far as I was concerned, my parents only had sex twice in twice in their lives — once to have my brother and another time to have me. Their sole purpose was to support my brother and me.
Through my parents’ divorce, I began to see Mom as just another person. She may have been older and a bit wiser than me, but she also had needs, faults and problems just like everyone else. Hugging her while she cried and supporting her through the messy divorce made me truly appreciate her and love her for the first time. And ever since, we’ve been more like sisters than mother and daughter.
So now that she has a sexy new outfit, I hope that she also has a good date — it’s been way too long since she’s gone out. I’d just die if I’d had as long a dry spell as she’s had!
Happy New Year
Happy New Year everyone!
My family and I rang in the New Year lounging in flannel pajamas, watching DVDs and hanging out at my mom’s home in Virginia. Although none of this was very exciting, I really do love spending time with my family and playing with my nephew and niece — I turned down a last-minute client request to join him at a New Year’s bash in NYC.
Just before midnight, we switched to watch the ball drop in Times Square. As strange as it may sound, I’d much rather watch the ball drop on TV than to be there in person. Too many crowds.
web designers
about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
- Selling Out (Part III)
- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)
friends
raunchy humor
sexy stories
archives
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