What Sort of Man Pays for Sex?
I know because I’ve had over a thousand of them
The only job I’ve had since I married my husband ten years ago was to work for a 15-month stint in the French city of Bordeaux as a highly paid escort. I fucked over a thousand men during that time, not many of them twice, because you would have had to be very rich to afford my charms on a regular basis.
You wouldn’t think a medium sized city in France, no matter how nice it is, would support an exclusive escort agency that charged €1,000 for an hour of pleasure with one of its girls. After all, a good salary for an executive in the region might be €80,000 a year and there would be taxes on that. We didn’t rely on local men for our business, they were all from out of town and mainly in Bordeaux on business.
The two big wine regions in France are Bordeaux and Burgundy. Wine buyers representing chains of supermarkets and liquor stores from all over the world arrived continuously throughout the year and they got substantial kickbacks from the owners of wine vineyards for choosing their vintages for sale. Those kickbacks were in cash and a lot of men like to buy sex with cash. And a lot of vineyard owners wanted to see their best clients enjoy themselves while they are in town.
Except for the weekends when businessmen weren’t in town, I would fuck between three and four men a night, flitting from one luxury hotel to the next. I was literally fucked off my feet.
I can’t be an impartial judge of the type of men who regularly see prostitutes because I wasn’t working out of an apartment and charging a normal rate so men could see me repeatedly. But I have fucked a lot of men who wanted to have sex with a prostitute, so my observations have some value.
First of all, almost every man who paid to have sex with me during this period I liked in some way. I never got so many compliments about my looks, my body and my pussy in my life. And the praise they heaped on me for the way I fucked them or went down on them made me far more confident than I have ever been.
The only bad experiences were when a man had too much to drink or too much cocaine and too much to drink to even consider performing. Sometimes I just couldn’t get a man off and I left them disappointed in the end. I never had anything seriously weird pulled on me, nor did any of the other women I worked.
The clients were all hedonists, like me. That’s the singular trait that all my clients had. They were just into giving and receiving pleasure. Nobody I saw didn’t want to make me orgasm and they all wanted to cum in a spectacular fashion as well. As we were like minded, we got along and some of them developed severe crushes on me. That was very flattering.
They also all wanted the entire package. They wanted me to look like a high-priced hooker, not a sweet young thing. I liked doing that for them. They expected expensive lingerie, perfect makeup and a lingering perfume. They didn’t have to go back to their wives that night, so they wanted the scent of me on them to stay for a few hours.
I would sometimes see one or two men I had fucked the previous night on the streets the next day. I would be in jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers, going about my daily business. Not once was I recognized. It was only when I slipped on my heels and stockings and put my war paint on that I became a recognizable for what I was.
None of the girls thought anything less of a man paying for sex with them. We had none of the contempt for our clients that other prostitutes profess to have. Nor did we think what we did dehumanized ourselves. All the whole, we were happy in our jobs and loved our work.
I’ll be doing it again soon, just to get it out of my system.
