Back In Business....
Wll, after six months of trying that tricky transition from 'working girl' *winkity-wink* to Working Girl, the fates have obviously made up their mind as to what I should do.
Im back in/on the game!
Through no fault of my own, I hasten to add. The people I worked with thought I was a shining star in a cosmoss of idiots. I managed to do the job of about 3 people (AND fit in my extra curriculem activities on the side!) with ease. And yet...and yet... just the company didn't work it. It was close -very close. I nearly made it to my dream job, but as the company couldn't find investors, we were shut down about 4 weeks ago. I was asked to stay on to help tidy up the loose ends. However, as this meant staying to take about 5 calls a day, and do the admin side I thought I rather boil my head in piss. Plus, hopefully the rest of the company will see what they're missing. I doubt it though. As I said, cosmoss of idiots.
So several things have inspired me not only to go back to the oldest profession full time, but also to kick start my diary.
For one, I've just finished reading the second 'Belle De Jour' book. Otherwise known as the second in the 'Intimate adventures of a London Call-Girl'. This can't be written by an escort. In her second book, she has become a pushover to men who cheat on her, and is certainly not the attitude of one who gets paid a lot of money for sex. With the mind set you gain, any man who does that would be straight out the door. However, our stories are sarily similar on the professional front. Many of the anecdotes have me 'Oooh, I've been there..'-ing. But it just doesn't match her personal life, making me think it's a pro writer who has close connections. I also think we share the same manager..onyl it's a full time one with her, she hires me in only sporadically. It still bemuses me as she has clients who regularly book me, so she must see the appeal of a BBW, yet has never ofered to put me on her 'elite' escort site! Ahh well, I do pretty well on my own.
I've also been inspired as I forget. I forget the wonderful sites I see and the people I meet, and I want to look back in years to come and remember things long locked away in the back of my memory. Some people spend years of their life living in London, seeing only the 500 yards from their house to the local shops, and the pub. Then the dull tube ride to work, and back. Escorting allows me the luxury of taxis around the capitol (yes, Im finally splashing out on taxi's - to the appointment at least. I still rely on the Oyster card for journeys home - Now I've found a decent taxi firm of course! On time, and on budget!). So I get to see it at my favourite time... twilight. Watching the lights across the south bank light up the thames will always be a fond sight of mine. Maybe it's also because it's associated with that slight thrill I have just before an appointment. Mmmmm... sex with a stranger....May it always continue to be a thrill, and not just a living.
Plus it's inspired me to maybe et an actual paid account. The tags can be used for ease of reference should I need to look up a client. Always thinking, me.
I really should have kept this up. So many things have happened...for one, the nights out with the other BBW escorts are becoming a thing of legend! They're human!
Squashing continues to go well. After a magazine featured my arse on the newstand of the UK, things kicked off nicely. However, not all were as serious as you might like. But as I was at work, I couldn't take advantage of the full flow. I'm prettygrateful though, seeing as I suspect 99% of these were timewasters (including a couple who insisted on ringing me several times a night. Have they nothing better to do with their sad, sorry, chavvy lives? No, I guess not. Did'nt really bother me though as they obviously didnt know the cardnial rule of the sex trade - never answer withheld calls.).
So as the rain pours down in London, and the thunder clashes overhead -let the proverbial stroms wash away the dust off this diary, and let us start a-new.
A nice week just past. Having had to spend the last 7 months only doing calls after 8pm on a weekday and weekends, it's nice to be able to do daycalls. The house is tideir (no option there) and my head is more screwed on for appointments. Unfortunately, all my little efforts go to waste when someone like George comes round. A polite sounding man, who wants nothing but a two hour blowjob. Holy fuck, I thought my jaw was going to lock! Not even the porn - yes, I have porn now!- helped. Oh he tried haveing a fiddle in my fairygarden, but only ended up tickling my pubes around....what the fuck?! Its like he was scared to pull the lips apart or something. He seemed satisfied enough to watch me masterbate, but like many men he didnt get that after we cum (maybe once, maybe a couple of times) but theres a limit. after a while, it hurts. So in the last hour, I had to shift the flesh around and just..well... pretend. Im pretty sure that with his 'Madsecksskillz!!!' he wouldn't have noticed the difference. Only porblem is, he obviously loved it, and has booked another 2 hours on saturday...Urgh.
Yesterday, however, was a lovely day. It's just a shame I had to squeeze them in so close to each other. Jamie had book a few days ago for 8pm, and just as I was thinking about letting the thought of getting ready into my head, Jay rings for an hours appointment at 6. Now, this give me about 30 minutes to get changed and showered, methinks, with a half hour taxi ride after. No. Effing. Worries!
Well, would have been, only Jay was half an hour late...
Ok, no worries, I think, maybe he's a cum&goer. He comes, and he's a lovely little american chap in his 30's. Very nice, and we get right down to it. o oral for me, but minimal b-j for him (yey!) before a final fuck. Mmm... a good fuck. Do you know how long it's been?!?! Fucking ages! I haven't had actual penetrative sex in months. The problem with having a full figure of a fetosh disposition is that many men just want to feel, massage, hug..I want a fuck! It was a close run thing, what with no foreplay for me, a while since anything had gone near me, and his massive penis - it couldnt have gone either way! Fortunately, it managed to fins its way in.. I lay on top, riding away, getting ready to....hang on.. did he just? He didnt...did he? Yes.. a seven stroke wonder. And he's cum.
OK, no worries, at least it means he'll be gone half an hour early and Im BACK on time! yes!
No. He stayed. We chatted, and he went in for another round. Oh god, this could take AGES! Im going to be lying on my back for hou- wait.. glory be! He's come again! 7 strokes and we're done. Yes!
So, quick as you like - clothes, door, shower, shower cap (godsend!), toothbrush, call taxi, pack bag, get dressed, re-apply make up, brush hair, oyster card, cash, sandles, shoes. Done.
Off to Queens gate to meet Jamie. Aww Jamie. Very sweet gentlemen - even had the money in an envelope. 57 (same age as my dad, btw. Yikes) but sprightly and poetic, generous and tactile. Boy, did he love to lick arse!
He was fun, burying his face in my pussy, my arse and my tits. 'Oh, to be 21!' he cried. Now, I've known many a 21 year old in my time, and they could NEVER hope to acheive what that 57 year old did. They're dicks. Selfish, self obsessed dicks. And maybe at 21, he was a dick as well. No... aim for 30's if you have to aim young. Otherwise Im happy with 40s...even 50s.
Its hard to get back from Kensington to my house, and it took me about an hour and a half on the bus/ tube combo. (I'll always go with the bus, but it was getting late). Plus the shorts I had put on under my dress were falling down! Do you know how embaressing it is trying to wander the halls of the London Underground trying to hitch your pants up every 3 seconds? Not fun! It was only whenI was on my road that I gave up and let them slip.. and discovered I had my perfect summer dress! My little black dress, with sandles...lovely, subtle, free. Unlike how I had been wearing it with stockings and high heels. I think it's definitely one to use for outcalls in the day during the summer.
But yes, those two made me very happy. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's nearly mid day, and Im still in my pyjamas.
Im back in/on the game!
Through no fault of my own, I hasten to add. The people I worked with thought I was a shining star in a cosmoss of idiots. I managed to do the job of about 3 people (AND fit in my extra curriculem activities on the side!) with ease. And yet...and yet... just the company didn't work it. It was close -very close. I nearly made it to my dream job, but as the company couldn't find investors, we were shut down about 4 weeks ago. I was asked to stay on to help tidy up the loose ends. However, as this meant staying to take about 5 calls a day, and do the admin side I thought I rather boil my head in piss. Plus, hopefully the rest of the company will see what they're missing. I doubt it though. As I said, cosmoss of idiots.
So several things have inspired me not only to go back to the oldest profession full time, but also to kick start my diary.
For one, I've just finished reading the second 'Belle De Jour' book. Otherwise known as the second in the 'Intimate adventures of a London Call-Girl'. This can't be written by an escort. In her second book, she has become a pushover to men who cheat on her, and is certainly not the attitude of one who gets paid a lot of money for sex. With the mind set you gain, any man who does that would be straight out the door. However, our stories are sarily similar on the professional front. Many of the anecdotes have me 'Oooh, I've been there..'-ing. But it just doesn't match her personal life, making me think it's a pro writer who has close connections. I also think we share the same manager..onyl it's a full time one with her, she hires me in only sporadically. It still bemuses me as she has clients who regularly book me, so she must see the appeal of a BBW, yet has never ofered to put me on her 'elite' escort site! Ahh well, I do pretty well on my own.
I've also been inspired as I forget. I forget the wonderful sites I see and the people I meet, and I want to look back in years to come and remember things long locked away in the back of my memory. Some people spend years of their life living in London, seeing only the 500 yards from their house to the local shops, and the pub. Then the dull tube ride to work, and back. Escorting allows me the luxury of taxis around the capitol (yes, Im finally splashing out on taxi's - to the appointment at least. I still rely on the Oyster card for journeys home - Now I've found a decent taxi firm of course! On time, and on budget!). So I get to see it at my favourite time... twilight. Watching the lights across the south bank light up the thames will always be a fond sight of mine. Maybe it's also because it's associated with that slight thrill I have just before an appointment. Mmmmm... sex with a stranger....May it always continue to be a thrill, and not just a living.
Plus it's inspired me to maybe et an actual paid account. The tags can be used for ease of reference should I need to look up a client. Always thinking, me.
I really should have kept this up. So many things have happened...for one, the nights out with the other BBW escorts are becoming a thing of legend! They're human!
Squashing continues to go well. After a magazine featured my arse on the newstand of the UK, things kicked off nicely. However, not all were as serious as you might like. But as I was at work, I couldn't take advantage of the full flow. I'm prettygrateful though, seeing as I suspect 99% of these were timewasters (including a couple who insisted on ringing me several times a night. Have they nothing better to do with their sad, sorry, chavvy lives? No, I guess not. Did'nt really bother me though as they obviously didnt know the cardnial rule of the sex trade - never answer withheld calls.).
So as the rain pours down in London, and the thunder clashes overhead -let the proverbial stroms wash away the dust off this diary, and let us start a-new.
A nice week just past. Having had to spend the last 7 months only doing calls after 8pm on a weekday and weekends, it's nice to be able to do daycalls. The house is tideir (no option there) and my head is more screwed on for appointments. Unfortunately, all my little efforts go to waste when someone like George comes round. A polite sounding man, who wants nothing but a two hour blowjob. Holy fuck, I thought my jaw was going to lock! Not even the porn - yes, I have porn now!- helped. Oh he tried haveing a fiddle in my fairygarden, but only ended up tickling my pubes around....what the fuck?! Its like he was scared to pull the lips apart or something. He seemed satisfied enough to watch me masterbate, but like many men he didnt get that after we cum (maybe once, maybe a couple of times) but theres a limit. after a while, it hurts. So in the last hour, I had to shift the flesh around and just..well... pretend. Im pretty sure that with his 'Madsecksskillz!!!' he wouldn't have noticed the difference. Only porblem is, he obviously loved it, and has booked another 2 hours on saturday...Urgh.
Yesterday, however, was a lovely day. It's just a shame I had to squeeze them in so close to each other. Jamie had book a few days ago for 8pm, and just as I was thinking about letting the thought of getting ready into my head, Jay rings for an hours appointment at 6. Now, this give me about 30 minutes to get changed and showered, methinks, with a half hour taxi ride after. No. Effing. Worries!
Well, would have been, only Jay was half an hour late...
Ok, no worries, I think, maybe he's a cum&goer. He comes, and he's a lovely little american chap in his 30's. Very nice, and we get right down to it. o oral for me, but minimal b-j for him (yey!) before a final fuck. Mmm... a good fuck. Do you know how long it's been?!?! Fucking ages! I haven't had actual penetrative sex in months. The problem with having a full figure of a fetosh disposition is that many men just want to feel, massage, hug..I want a fuck! It was a close run thing, what with no foreplay for me, a while since anything had gone near me, and his massive penis - it couldnt have gone either way! Fortunately, it managed to fins its way in.. I lay on top, riding away, getting ready to....hang on.. did he just? He didnt...did he? Yes.. a seven stroke wonder. And he's cum.
OK, no worries, at least it means he'll be gone half an hour early and Im BACK on time! yes!
No. He stayed. We chatted, and he went in for another round. Oh god, this could take AGES! Im going to be lying on my back for hou- wait.. glory be! He's come again! 7 strokes and we're done. Yes!
So, quick as you like - clothes, door, shower, shower cap (godsend!), toothbrush, call taxi, pack bag, get dressed, re-apply make up, brush hair, oyster card, cash, sandles, shoes. Done.
Off to Queens gate to meet Jamie. Aww Jamie. Very sweet gentlemen - even had the money in an envelope. 57 (same age as my dad, btw. Yikes) but sprightly and poetic, generous and tactile. Boy, did he love to lick arse!
He was fun, burying his face in my pussy, my arse and my tits. 'Oh, to be 21!' he cried. Now, I've known many a 21 year old in my time, and they could NEVER hope to acheive what that 57 year old did. They're dicks. Selfish, self obsessed dicks. And maybe at 21, he was a dick as well. No... aim for 30's if you have to aim young. Otherwise Im happy with 40s...even 50s.
Its hard to get back from Kensington to my house, and it took me about an hour and a half on the bus/ tube combo. (I'll always go with the bus, but it was getting late). Plus the shorts I had put on under my dress were falling down! Do you know how embaressing it is trying to wander the halls of the London Underground trying to hitch your pants up every 3 seconds? Not fun! It was only whenI was on my road that I gave up and let them slip.. and discovered I had my perfect summer dress! My little black dress, with sandles...lovely, subtle, free. Unlike how I had been wearing it with stockings and high heels. I think it's definitely one to use for outcalls in the day during the summer.
But yes, those two made me very happy. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's nearly mid day, and Im still in my pyjamas.