How Ireland turned me into a whore.

How Ireland turned me into a whore.

Yup, you read it right. Ireland turned me into a whore. The concept of escorting is so lost on these Neanderthals, as to be a higher form of thought from another planet. When you have emotionally stunted men, who’s concept of sex, is a fumbled poke in the dark, and who’s biggest concern is getting you pregnant, have no clue as to what or how you catch an STI. Is it any wonder, that when faced with a sexy woman, their dicks shrivel and die?

I have worked for some high class escort agencies in my time, and every girl who is worth her false lashes, knows the best bookings are the longer ones. More money, and actually less work, a man by virtue of biology, can only shag so much over a 12 hour period of time. Even with the aid of little blue pills. Then of course throw in some alcohol and general fitness, and well you can get the shagging part down to 2 strategic shags, and everyone is happy. Now of course if the client is a fine specimen of manhood, and hung like a horse. I am quite happy to stay up all night and shag for country and glory. I might even spend a few extra hours for personal reasons. Good dick is indeed hard to find.

Not in Ireland! For one thing the fuckers turn a lovely shade of green when I tell them my overnight rates. Higher than normal, why because I really don’t want to spend that much time with one client in Ireland. They form attachments too quickly, and before I know it I would have 1) a stalker or worse yet 2) some idiot baying at my front door about being in love with me. Jesus and his angels, save me from shit like this. Mind you it isn’t that I am all that warm and fuzzy, you may have gathered that from my previous posts. It is the full on attention being paid to them. They are not used to that, and it can mess with both heads. Also, not coming from a culture of sexual exploration or openness, the rules of The Game are completely lost on them. They interpreted the angel in knickers to be the real me, not realising that it is a character I have created to play the part of the escort in this little pastiche.

So it became expedient to just see clients on a short time basis. It still didn’t prevent some from forming attachment, but you could nip things in the bud and still get paid for the privilege.

But now that I have returned to a market where the clientele are more the norm, and can actually enjoy the time with a woman without becoming a pest, I have discovered I am ruined! I had gotten so used to dealing with clients on a short term basis, that now I have to reprogram myself to being able to deal with them for longer periods of time. Oh God Help Me! Where I am now, an hour is an hour, not 33 1/2 minutes, including shower time! I have to suppress the 25 minute itch. Meaning I start to get irritated at about the 25 minute mark, and have to keep telling myself, it is ok, he isn’t over staying or becoming a nuisance. It will take some getting used to, but I have a feeling where I am right now I will adjust in no time.

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