Why choose tantric massage?
Now I’m not a pervert but…
Okay so admittedly that isn’t the best way to start, well anything, but hear me out. We all have interests and hobbies and it just so happens that one of mine is sex. Now I’m not into any weird shit per say, no scat, no diapers nothing particularly out of the ordinary but I enjoy it disproportionately and so I have spent quite a bit of money over the last decade or so doing sex things with lots of sex people which includes erotic tantric massage, from agency’s such as Guilty Pleasures.
I work in finance which is one of the only jobs I can think of which is both extremely stressful and also extremely boring. A terrible combination I’m sure you will agree, so what keeps me sane is the frequenting of high end escorts. Most of whom know me by first name now (clearly nothing to be proud of). I worked out the other day that if you aggregate everything I have spent on escorts in the last 10 or so years I could have bought a decent sized flat in central London outright. Anyway that’s enough morbid talk.
I have been friends with two members of the Guilty Pleasures team for a very long time and they have asked me to write a quick blog if you will (such a terrible word) regarding my own preferences and how they have changed over the years. I work in an advisory role I suppose based on my own extensive experiences of the sex industry.
I’m a sucker for porn (pardon the pun), I just love it so the ability to fuck the women I saw on the screen has always appealed to me. I have fucked virtually every mainstream porn star you could think of (except Jenna Jameson, sore subject don’t ask) including Aletta Ocean for £1,000 an hour and Christy Mack for about the same. However, these were the probably the most unfulfilling of the lot and ultimately unsatisfying. In my head this was great, as was virtually every escort I have ever slept with, but the reality came up short, way short.
Have you ever booked an escort? If so this should be a not so gentle reminder. Come at agreed time fully showered and ready to go only to be welcomed by one of a random number of carefully constructed plans to make you late decreasing your time spent together. I have even seen a couple of escorts hide when seeing me (I didn’t take this too personally as they hadn’t seen my face). Once you arrive, 15 minutes late no less, a cursory greeting occurs followed by an immediate but polite request for money. This is, of course, to be expected. Following that you will be instructed to have a shower. Now I am a pretty clean individual and have obviously showered before I got there but I am still required to have another one. Again that’s ok I can understand the need for cleanliness, but at this point it is now 30 minutes past kick off and I am very eager to get started. Kissing, the usual precursor to anything sexual is quite often outlawed and preserved for the ‘boyfriend’. So far, so not-so-great! As I get down to the good stuff and reveal my ever hard penis, the escort, in a ninja like movement manages to put a condom on my penis. I have soon discovered that a lot of the condoms escorts use contains what is called Benzocaine, a numbing agent that is used for cutting cocaine. I can effectively feel nothing and it looks as though there is a penis on my lap that this fine escort is fellating apathetically. As the clock creeps up to around 40-45 minutes past scheduled time, the actual sex begins. A hurried, rushed event so awkward in reality, when recollecting the event for the almost inevitable post escort wank, virtually everything is altered and it may as well have been a complete fiction.