As you may or may not know, I am a professional sex worker and writer. I also happen to be trained in counselling and psychotherapy and no, I’m not just showing off (okay maybe a little) I am merely letting you know that I know a little about, you know, stuff.
When I was working full time as a therapist in private practice, I saw lots of couples and often saw singles who were having ‘bad’ sex. The stories were different but actually the same, allow me to paraphrase: ‘We go to bed at night and she just isn’t interested. She turns away and I have to jerk myself off’. Hmmm … and followed by: ‘I met this guy on the net and all he wanted me to do was shove a courgette up his arse’. Double hmmm …
This is a common affliction for straights, gays, bi’s and those in between—we have no fucking idea what intimacy really means. Allow me to give you a (slightly graphic) example:
A few weeks ago, I was called to a hotel to do an ‘outcall’ for a gentleman who found himself unexpectedly in the city and so, had a few hours to kill. “Be as kinky as you like” he said on the telephone before the booking. “I like leather”, he hinted as I chatted to him, took his deposit and packed my ‘outcall bag’ (massage oil, condoms, lube, tissues, shoe laces, cock rings etc.) and booked my taxi using the other phone. Multi-tasking is my forte.
When I arrived at the hotel, the gentleman opened the door wearing just a bath towel and greeted me with a lovely smile and a glint in his eye. Once in his room and following my safety text to a friend, I opened my bag of tricks and his eyes lit up.
“Now I am going to open the condom packet and lube just in case but this is a go-with-the-flow kind of service so don’t get your hopes up”, I set the stage for the following two hours (and reaffirmed the wordings of my website) as I put on my leather harness and proceeded to tie the gentleman’s balls with a red shoe lace.
Then I kissed him.