Uhhh sunny day - and a client done already!
I love discovering bright London on my way to get to work (which can be anywhere actually).
I went to Docklands this morning, nice Canadian guy in a Hotel, gentle sex, lots of talking and a dark funny sense of humor - it would be so great if have of the guys I have to put up with were like that.
On the way back I bought some new condoms and lube, sttoped by Sainsbury (yes, escorts also do boring house shopping) and just got a call from a regular one to attend later today - the guy with big thumbs, did I say something about him here already? Well, it is good, no complaints.
Thursday, 3 June 2010
Sunday, 30 May 2010
A very expensive rent
I don’t talk a lot about politics because:
1) I don’t know much about it
2) I have a couple of clients that are into politics and I don’t think it is fair to expose people that pay well for what they want (especially if I am the one they are paying for).
I think this must be an amazing job when you are a secretary or a MP because it seems to me that basically you seat, read, drink coffee and talk a lot, all of that sponsored by the public money.
Eventually they will have the ‘hard work’ of voting to decide something very very important such as the change of the name of a street, a new way of tax people or so.
My friend Jay, the funniest female escort I know, said that power is like a bug. People get it and rapidly get contaminated and start to think with their arse instead of their brains.
Of course Jay called yesterday to confirm her theory:
-I told you Kaio. Those dickheads are pretty stupid. Who the hell would do such a thing and just take for granted that nobody would ever find out?
Jay was talking about the David Laws case, the London chief secretary of the Treasury that claimed up to £950 a month for eight years to rent rooms in two properties owned by his partner.
The fact that nobody knew that he was gay didn’t help much neither.
-Jay, but he seemed kind of a nice guy - I said to wind her up.
-Nice my ass, Kaio! That is my money. My money!
-Well I can’t say the same because I barely pay taxes.
-Yes but you are a student. And anyway: where the fuck is that room, so expensive!?
-Buckingham Palace or nearby? - I joked
We had to laugh over the phone.
Not because of the scandal, the high rent or anything else.
But on how creative politicians can be. And how greedy and stupid too.
I don’t know how much was his salary but I am pretty sure David Laws is a retard for risking his career for just £40.000
Honestly! if you are going to steal, do it properly, something worthy.
Now that he no longer have a job (the politician resigned), maybe Laws will consider moving to a more modest area, maybe Croydon or Brixton where rooms for rent are cheaper.
Jay added:
-Absolutely! And better yet. He will do it with his money, not the public funds. It was about time for that bastard be caught and stop paying his boyfriend with my taxes.
-Indeed, Jay. If someone is to get paid here ... it should be us.
-Oh my GGGGGGooD. I have a client calling on the other line. Have to pick up that call. Talk soon.
Jay rocks!
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Another ash cloud!
There are a few business that rely on flights and airports working properly in order to keep going. Trading flowers, travel agencies, hotels, etc. And the sex industry, of course. I had so many cancelations over the past four weeks due the air space closure that I lost the account of it.
Many of my clients are guys visiting London for business, away for their wives, religion rules or family – I think they feel a bit like a teenager when the parents go on holiday and they are left behind with the whole house and a scaring exciting freedom.
They work hard, it is true. But they also drink, party and fuck a lot when working abroad.
So after the storm everything was starting to fall back in black but now BA’s staff has announced a big strike. I can predict lots of disruption at the UK airports – and those disruptions will again disrupt my job.
That is what happens when you don’t have a normal 9 to 5 office job. When you are self employed even the weather or someone else fighting for a pay rise or better working conditions can affect you income.
But I hope I don’t have to go back to work at the ‘House’. it was pretty depressing to be setting in a very small back room with other 8 (sometimes up to 12) boys waiting the clients to turn up and pick up one of us. And to be in constant state of fear, without knowing who would be the next client or if the police would arrive first and arrest everyone for prostitution.
I will keep my fingers crossed to keep the volcano and BA both very calm and very reasonable.
People need to travel. Travellers need to fuck. And I need to pay my rent.
Many of my clients are guys visiting London for business, away for their wives, religion rules or family – I think they feel a bit like a teenager when the parents go on holiday and they are left behind with the whole house and a scaring exciting freedom.
They work hard, it is true. But they also drink, party and fuck a lot when working abroad.
So after the storm everything was starting to fall back in black but now BA’s staff has announced a big strike. I can predict lots of disruption at the UK airports – and those disruptions will again disrupt my job.
That is what happens when you don’t have a normal 9 to 5 office job. When you are self employed even the weather or someone else fighting for a pay rise or better working conditions can affect you income.
But I hope I don’t have to go back to work at the ‘House’. it was pretty depressing to be setting in a very small back room with other 8 (sometimes up to 12) boys waiting the clients to turn up and pick up one of us. And to be in constant state of fear, without knowing who would be the next client or if the police would arrive first and arrest everyone for prostitution.
I will keep my fingers crossed to keep the volcano and BA both very calm and very reasonable.
People need to travel. Travellers need to fuck. And I need to pay my rent.
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Safe ports?
I hate get to place soaked but with this weather in London you are actually lucky if you ever manage to arrive on time.
And ‘be on time’ time is something people demand a lot when you get paid per hour of fuck. Yes, I meant to write it because more and more I am realizing how people act differently when it comes to sex. If you have someone coming over to visit you it is very unlike that you will be watching the clock every other minute. But apparently when people get ready to have fun, their mind sort of set to a specific time and when things happen (tube delays, bad traffic due road works, etc), clients can get a bit nasty.
I think partly it is because most of people paying for sex also have a parallel life, usually with someone that represents a safe port but not exactly up to everything in bed.
It is important to have those ‘safe ports’ I guess but in order to keep sane, people have a bit of extra fun. I wouldn’t call it an affair. It is just fun. Paid fun. And because those people eventually have to go back to their safe port they want to make sure they will be on time so the other half won’t think they are fucking (or getting fucked) by someone else.
Last night a small stormed made London as chaotic as possible through the rush hour and a client complaint about my 15 minutes delays.
I still think 15 minutes can’t be considerate a delay – as well because I make up for it at the end anyway – but he said that dinner was going to be served at 7.30pm and he should be at home by this time because his wife would be very upset for cocking the whole evening and have to wait for him.
I thought of telling him that it wasn’t my fault if London transport are crap, that his wife set the dinner time too early and that he set the fuck too late as we could have done it lunch time with less hassle. But I let it go and gave him a very good time – to make up for the delay and also to tempt him to keep the habit of ‘eating’ out.
As my friend Daniel would say:
‘some people have someone else to cook for them but the best things to eat come just raw’
And ‘be on time’ time is something people demand a lot when you get paid per hour of fuck. Yes, I meant to write it because more and more I am realizing how people act differently when it comes to sex. If you have someone coming over to visit you it is very unlike that you will be watching the clock every other minute. But apparently when people get ready to have fun, their mind sort of set to a specific time and when things happen (tube delays, bad traffic due road works, etc), clients can get a bit nasty.
I think partly it is because most of people paying for sex also have a parallel life, usually with someone that represents a safe port but not exactly up to everything in bed.
It is important to have those ‘safe ports’ I guess but in order to keep sane, people have a bit of extra fun. I wouldn’t call it an affair. It is just fun. Paid fun. And because those people eventually have to go back to their safe port they want to make sure they will be on time so the other half won’t think they are fucking (or getting fucked) by someone else.
Last night a small stormed made London as chaotic as possible through the rush hour and a client complaint about my 15 minutes delays.
I still think 15 minutes can’t be considerate a delay – as well because I make up for it at the end anyway – but he said that dinner was going to be served at 7.30pm and he should be at home by this time because his wife would be very upset for cocking the whole evening and have to wait for him.
I thought of telling him that it wasn’t my fault if London transport are crap, that his wife set the dinner time too early and that he set the fuck too late as we could have done it lunch time with less hassle. But I let it go and gave him a very good time – to make up for the delay and also to tempt him to keep the habit of ‘eating’ out.
As my friend Daniel would say:
‘some people have someone else to cook for them but the best things to eat come just raw’
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Holland Park
Sunny days, sunny days.
Honestly it was about time to the sun come out in London. Yesterday I went to work in Holland Park. I love the area, the big houses and even those poor old ladies with 300 plastic surgeries walking with their dogs and having tea at 3pm.
They usually have big sunglasses, tons of jewellery and lipstick as an extension of their lips.
I saw one talking on the phone, loudly, explaining to someone that she was tired of walking with Blair and she was heading back to get someone to look after the dog because she was already 15 minutes late for her appointment with a manicure.
As I passed by, playing with the dog that jumped happily towards my bag the lady looked at me with a puzzled face of curiosity. It think it is an achievement for people with so much botox still manage to have facial expressions.
I think the dog could smell my bag and track the smell of my strawberry flavoured condoms. Dogs love them. Once a client had to call a vet because the dog got one from under the bed and ate it!
I bet the lady wondered what a young man would be doing at this time walking down the road. At this time the average people are a) working, b) studying, c) at home applying for a job or wanking.
The most fortunate, able to pay, ones do it with a bit of help and call me so that is why I was wondering in Holland Park, 3pm. We could say I was on my way to work.
The guy was extremely clean, one of those that smell hospital sanitizer and wear impeccable white socks. His house had air purifier everywhere and those little hand gel wash in every top of furniture what made the lounge looks like a messy pharmacy. I like it, I mean: clean clients, but
I can avoiding thinking that it is also a bit weird someone so obsessed with germs and bacteria.
On my way back, just 45 minutes later, the lady was still on the phone while the dog was having a croissant. I had to stop and look back again.
There is nothing wrong with dogs eating croissants.
I just found amusing that he was doing it on the table, from a nice expensive square plate and a big bowl of some dark liquid that I suppose was tea or coffee.
I wanted to get a picture. I wanted to ask what was inside the bowl. But I didn't.
No one seemed to care.
In Holland Park, even dogs get lucky.
Honestly it was about time to the sun come out in London. Yesterday I went to work in Holland Park. I love the area, the big houses and even those poor old ladies with 300 plastic surgeries walking with their dogs and having tea at 3pm.
They usually have big sunglasses, tons of jewellery and lipstick as an extension of their lips.
I saw one talking on the phone, loudly, explaining to someone that she was tired of walking with Blair and she was heading back to get someone to look after the dog because she was already 15 minutes late for her appointment with a manicure.
As I passed by, playing with the dog that jumped happily towards my bag the lady looked at me with a puzzled face of curiosity. It think it is an achievement for people with so much botox still manage to have facial expressions.
I think the dog could smell my bag and track the smell of my strawberry flavoured condoms. Dogs love them. Once a client had to call a vet because the dog got one from under the bed and ate it!
I bet the lady wondered what a young man would be doing at this time walking down the road. At this time the average people are a) working, b) studying, c) at home applying for a job or wanking.
The most fortunate, able to pay, ones do it with a bit of help and call me so that is why I was wondering in Holland Park, 3pm. We could say I was on my way to work.
The guy was extremely clean, one of those that smell hospital sanitizer and wear impeccable white socks. His house had air purifier everywhere and those little hand gel wash in every top of furniture what made the lounge looks like a messy pharmacy. I like it, I mean: clean clients, but
I can avoiding thinking that it is also a bit weird someone so obsessed with germs and bacteria.
On my way back, just 45 minutes later, the lady was still on the phone while the dog was having a croissant. I had to stop and look back again.
There is nothing wrong with dogs eating croissants.
I just found amusing that he was doing it on the table, from a nice expensive square plate and a big bowl of some dark liquid that I suppose was tea or coffee.
I wanted to get a picture. I wanted to ask what was inside the bowl. But I didn't.
No one seemed to care.
In Holland Park, even dogs get lucky.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Back, back and back!
Hi,
Just back from a ,long holiday (and I had problems with the blog password).
But everything is sorted now and I will be posting this week, about holidays, sex, adventures and those rather than special customers.
Just back from a ,long holiday (and I had problems with the blog password).
But everything is sorted now and I will be posting this week, about holidays, sex, adventures and those rather than special customers.
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
Hidden messages
Good starting of the day. Defying a boring raining day in London I managed to have a Very sweet client with an elastic tongue.
I was laughing from start to end because he was very fn was and it was nice but weird to have paid sex with someone that cool. Usually we are more used to have people lie that around us when they are close friends or relatives.
He didn’t take long to come but until get to this bit it was a long way of starts, liking, sticking his tongue up any possible hole he eventually could find so it was a bit ticklish as well I have to say.
From there, with a short break only for a shower, I went to see my regular American client visiting UK. He was totally dry as his wife has been way since Christmas so I have to look after him with double care and was on my knees for a long time.
I like his smell of fresh plastic wrapping paper, those with a few bubbles and used to pack fragile items. It reminds me of new things like a gift you’ve just got. I also quite like his cock because it is not so long but it is quite thick so it doesn’t take long to get me screaming and moaning while riding it.
As I watch my image reflected on the mirror and having my bum ferociously penetrated by his cock I wonder how I am lucky to get paid to do something that average people do for free (if they are fortunate enough to have someone with such a huge tool to fuck them!)
-Are you ok? He asks me after cuming and slowly taking his dick of my ass.
-Yes, very well! I answer with a wide smile trying not to spread my legs too much in case some lube its still inside me. Sometimes remains of a running lube pops out as soon as the guy takes his penis off my bum and a warm little brown line runs down my legs.
Not today. I check the sheets and they are fine. I check my anus and there is nothing wet to be afraid of. I even glance his cock to make sure everything is clean but he doesn’t acknowledge it.
-Cool! – he says with a thick accent and getting a towel around his hips before entering to the toilet and friendly shouting at me to close the door behind me once I leave the flat.
The translation for that is straight forward: get out as soon as you can as we are done here dude.
Ok, sir. I got your message.
And off I went.
I was laughing from start to end because he was very fn was and it was nice but weird to have paid sex with someone that cool. Usually we are more used to have people lie that around us when they are close friends or relatives.
He didn’t take long to come but until get to this bit it was a long way of starts, liking, sticking his tongue up any possible hole he eventually could find so it was a bit ticklish as well I have to say.
From there, with a short break only for a shower, I went to see my regular American client visiting UK. He was totally dry as his wife has been way since Christmas so I have to look after him with double care and was on my knees for a long time.
I like his smell of fresh plastic wrapping paper, those with a few bubbles and used to pack fragile items. It reminds me of new things like a gift you’ve just got. I also quite like his cock because it is not so long but it is quite thick so it doesn’t take long to get me screaming and moaning while riding it.
As I watch my image reflected on the mirror and having my bum ferociously penetrated by his cock I wonder how I am lucky to get paid to do something that average people do for free (if they are fortunate enough to have someone with such a huge tool to fuck them!)
-Are you ok? He asks me after cuming and slowly taking his dick of my ass.
-Yes, very well! I answer with a wide smile trying not to spread my legs too much in case some lube its still inside me. Sometimes remains of a running lube pops out as soon as the guy takes his penis off my bum and a warm little brown line runs down my legs.
Not today. I check the sheets and they are fine. I check my anus and there is nothing wet to be afraid of. I even glance his cock to make sure everything is clean but he doesn’t acknowledge it.
-Cool! – he says with a thick accent and getting a towel around his hips before entering to the toilet and friendly shouting at me to close the door behind me once I leave the flat.
The translation for that is straight forward: get out as soon as you can as we are done here dude.
Ok, sir. I got your message.
And off I went.
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Gay ad refused
An ad from ManCrunch.com, an American dating site for men, has already been rejected by the network showing the Super Bowl.
Apparently the ad showing two men sitting on a sofa watching a football game (and kissing after touch their hands inside a bow of chips) was not within the Network's Broadcast Standards for Super Bowl Sunday.
Hummm I liked the ad ....
Monday, 18 January 2010
Possibly 'new tricks'
My neck a bit stiff today after a client on Sunday that demanded lots of very difficult positions. No standard fun with him. But hold my body on the floor, legs up in the air while he was standing up to fuck me was a bit of a heavy call. Don't get me wrong. he was great and his cock just the right size – what for me means: not so small to let me wondering and not so big to hurt my asshole because I have no intention of damaging my work tool.
He was sweating like a pig and it lasted a good 45 minutes until he finally shot his warm cum over my chest from where he was standing.
-Wow, that was a good one, kid! – He said after finishing and starting to get ready.
-I am glad you enjoyed.
-I will be in town next week as well. do you want to come over again?
-Yes, sure, I can do.
-Cool. I will teach you a few new tricks.
Dying to find out about those possibly 'new tricks'.
He was sweating like a pig and it lasted a good 45 minutes until he finally shot his warm cum over my chest from where he was standing.
-Wow, that was a good one, kid! – He said after finishing and starting to get ready.
-I am glad you enjoyed.
-I will be in town next week as well. do you want to come over again?
-Yes, sure, I can do.
-Cool. I will teach you a few new tricks.
Dying to find out about those possibly 'new tricks'.
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Something to talk about
Local police forces have ranked as some of the UK’s most gay-friendly employers, according to a new equality index by the homosexual campaign group Stonewall.The top 20 gay-friendly employers also include five councils, three Government agencies and two Whitehall departments.
The campaign group’s equality index reveals that five police forces are ranked among the top 20 gay-friendly employers with a further six forces placed in the top 50.
Hampshire Constabulary is ranked as the most gay-friendly police force in the country coming in second place overall.
Around the country there have been a number of heavy-handed police investigations against Christians, sparked by complaints to the police of ‘homophobia’.
Last year Pauline Howe, a 67-year-old Christian grandmother, wrote to her local council objecting to abuse she suffered while handing out Christian literature at a homosexual carnival.
She was later visited by police officers who said that her letter may be treated as a “hate incident”.
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