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Who Can Do This Work
I always knew I was sexy. As early as 10 years old I knew I had a certain quality that adults were drawn to. Do not get me wrong, I was never sexually abused or molested, but I did have the common babysitter experience(s). Adults always gave me a second look and would ask my Mom,
“How old did you say she is?”
I had, even back then, an appeal that made adults stare at me. Some times they forced me into conversation or more subtly made sly eye-contact. I was the teacher’s pet, the favorite niece, and the brightest Grand child. My playmate’s parents hugged and kissed me more than the other kids and they all seemed to have an extraordinary interest in my progress.
I got loads of attention and tons of special treatment; but never once can I remember being called “Pretty”.
Pretty was on TV. Pretty was white. Pretty had privilege. I was just a scrawny funny-colored kid with a huge amount of energy and a naïve spirit. I am not quote-on-quote Black (my Dad) and certainly not Caucasian (my Mom). I am colored very much like well-creamed coffee. In many instances my light complexion sweetened and sex-ied my package; gaining me greater profits than my sister providers could command.
Throughout my teens and early 20′s, well before I entered the business of pleasure, I had countless sexual encounters. I loved attention from boys and men alike. Women too noticed me. At age 16 I had my first lesbian experience with a woman who was 35. It was no fault of hers, I lied to her telling her I was 22. She had sbsolutely no reason to question it. I was nuts about her. I saw her just recently, and while in fact she is quite a bit older now, her sexy-ness is still every bit as enjoyable today as it was back then.
Sexy-ness is an energy. Literally an intoxicating breathable scent. Humans gravitate towards the sexiest of people. Often we can not explain why. We find ourselves thinking,
“What the hell is wrong with me? She isn’t even that pretty”.
We have all said it in our lives. There is always that person who is not-all-that-great-looking, but gets our juices flowing, and instinctfully knows how to fuck us in exactly the right way.
Sexy is not Pretty. The dictionary defines Sexy as; sexually interesting or exciting; radiating sexuality.
I had to accept it. I am sexy and I could not escape it even if I wanted to.
Sexy women know who they are. We know for sure, because when we are at the grocery store buying tampons and Midol in our scrubs, sneakers, and a head scarf, we get more attention than the well dressed polished ”pretty” woman who is buying condoms, fruit, and whip cream.
Sexy is a certain breed. You cannot buy it. You cannot learn it. You can’t catch it, win it, or even pray for it. You either have it or you don’t. Many women who have “it” are intimidated by the power and attention it produces. Those who do not have it, have no clue they are missing it.
I had not defined it myself until an afternoon when an old friend spotted me from across the street. While we were talking on the corner he mentioned how different I looked.
“If I look so different how did you recognize me from across the street”?
He said, “It’s your walk Babe, I could recognize that walk anywhere”
My walk? Huh? A woman with a “memorable walk” is SEXY personified!!
In this lies the answer to who is the most successful in my line of work. There are too many pretty girls wanting to make a quick buck and literally plunging into this business yet they have no clue and give little thought to what it means to be sexy. Sexy has to be your state of mind. It has to be under your skin, I should be able to smell it on you. Sexy must be an element that is rooted firmly at the core of your personality.
Pretty is for pictures; it is not for professional penis play.
Biggest Mistake Women Make In The Bedroom
The majority of women reading this will not like it. However, the men will likely shake their heads in agreement. It is a very simple thing yet so many couples miss out. In a nutshell ladies, leave the damn lights on!
I can see all of you cringing right now. You are having mental flashes of your flawed and maturing body and are thinking,
“Hell no! If he sees this he’s gonna’ go limp for sure”!
This my darlings is the silliest lie we tell ourselves. Aside from the obvious, which is that you are a beautiful specimen, (especially to him; right before sex) he has already “sized” you up ladies. He has seen you with your clothes on and unless you are wearing and industrial strength girdle that shrinks you three sizes than he has already in his mind decided he wants to fuck you. He is dying to fuck you. He wants to fuck you just the way you are.
He does NOT see the flaws on your body. He does not give a BigMac about your stretch marks. Yes, guys are visual and they want to see you. He wants to see your face when you cum. He wants to see you moan when he’s thrusting in you. He wants to see his dick in your mouth. He wants you to look up at him as if you love his cock and can not wait for his saucy load to fill you throat.
Get my drift? He can not see that if you keep turning the fucking lights off!
He wants to tell you but he does not want you to think he is a “freak“. Give him a break, you might just be surprised how intense things get. When you can relax and have confidence that is what will excite him.
I do understand insecurities and doubts about body image and if that is the case then find yourself the correct lingerie. Wear what covers your not so pretty spots and accessorize.
Pay special attention to lighting. Not bright lights, as if you’re filming a porno, but make sure he can see you. Outside lighting if you live in the city works well. Open the curtains slightly with the risk that a neighbor, or someone in another building, will “see” you too and he will dig it. Men love to show off that they’re getting some .
If you do not have the convenience of outdoor or natural lighting then control it completely by closing the curtains tightly and lighting candles, or throw a scarf over the lampshade to dim it. Many times I have left the bathroom light on so that enough light came in to the room that we could both watch him cum if he wanted us to.
It is so simple and your memories will be ever greater and it is a great way to leave your image with him. Be daring, be confident, be beautiful, be sexy-as-fuck and impress him with the vision of you. No more fucking in the dark. Period.
Be Careful
am I anesthetized?
Am I immune to the worry or panic that my loved ones feel when one of us is murdered? Every time a popular news channel or a syndicated talk show resorts to a blip covering the murder of a sex worker I receive a call from aconcerned friend or family member urging me to “Be Careful”.
In most cases, I am aloof to their news, as well, their concern. Their urging never impacts the way I do business, nor am I any more “careful” because they told me to be.
Is violence or murder an under-mentioned occupational hazard? No, I really don’t think so.
“Be Careful”? What does that mean exactly? Don’t go to work? Don’t speak to strangers? Never let your guard down? Only make dates with non-Freddie Kruger types?
I suspect that a large majority of internet sex workers that have a website, or who take their business seriously, have some type of screening process they are comfortable with. I have talked with providers who want from their perspective dates, what I consider to be, an extreme amount of information. By extreme I am saying, TWO escort references, AND his work information, AND a land-line phone number, AND/or a copy or his driver’s licences. WTF … Huh? Why does that not work for me? Because, let’s keep it real, that’s way too-fucking-much work. Plus, if that’s what it took to “not get murdered” than this business would not have survived as long as it has. We are talking since long before Christ was known to be here. How did they “screen” back then?
Let’s get a grip. Violence and or murder are, in-fact, possibilities in this often seedy, and dark, Business of Pleasure. However, death and pain are common denominators in the human experience, and we find both of these potentials within most human environments. In keeping with The Secret, and in the belief of the law of attraction, I believe we can bring violence upon ourselves with the energy of fear and the damned persistent thought of potential negativity.
I do not like those “be careful” calls or comments. Be careful of what? How? Be careful of who? How? Who? Him? Him? Him, him and him? Her too? Give me a fucking break! It’s like waiting for the Grim Reaper. No Thanks!
I screen my new friends the best I can and I do not look for trouble. I expect and DEMAND safety in my dealings with men on ANY level, and in EVERY aspect of my life, business, or otherwise. If and when someone were to move towards me with true psychotic or violent intent, I wonder what, if any, defense I will have to subdue him.
If I am hurt, or worse, will my loved ones feel any comfort knowing they warned me? Will my demise prove to them that this work is bad or dangerous? Or will it speak directly to, what they may have been considering to be, my constant bad choices? Maybe both?
I have had only one extreme asshole in my entire career. Thankfully our date ended MUCH WORSE for him than it did for me. While I do still regret the choices I made that evening; he got exactly what he deserved. I learned that night that people can and will definitely surprise you, that I am one hell of an opponent, to always trust my gut, and to keep my karma clean.
I know shit happens, and we will definitely find total dirt-bags hunting prey in this line of work, but if a fuckhead comes knocking on my door, I got something for his ass. I am not a victim and I am NOT afraid. I can not live and work that way. If and when a battle shows up; I will certainly do my best. This is true in ANY aspect of my life. It is a crazy world for All of us .. not just hookers.
When a woman is murdered the first suspect is her husband, the man she trusts, not her generously-paying hobbyist boyfriend. Can you imagine if every time a truck driver’s wife saw a news article or a television blip about a truck accident that she called him to tell him to “be careful” because “there was just a bad wreck and people are dead”? He would be a nervous-wreck on the road; plus she would be calling his ass way too much while he’s trying to fucking drive.
Let us seasoned ladies work. We are diligent. We’re not jumping in the back of cars with demons in hoods with hooks and hammers. We are as careful as we can be. Do not let the crappy news of the week spin your thoughts and concerns for us out of control. Keep the compliments and the positive energy flowing and if some bad shit does happen, then we will deal with it, then, and ONLY then.
About The Money
I truly believe most, if not all women, have thought about the exchange of sex for money. As women we do it in our every day lives in one way or another, whether it be conscious or not. We “bribe” our boyfriends and husbands all the time using sex , especially head, as a reward for romantic dates, desired gifts, and/or his attention.
Your offering is the “cost” for the gift you are negotiating to gain. Herein lies the question, what is the house wife’s level of profit verses mine? Well certainly I cannot intelligently gauge who receives the greatest profits, because I cannot measure the value of that women’s offer, nor can I fathom her debt, or her expenses during her unconscious (or is it sub-conscious? wink-wink) “negotiating”.
Since all of my negotiating is done upfront, I am forced, if I want to be competitive, to set my rates according to what the market will bare for my specific type of offering. This is a business in every sense of the word.
There are many essential out-go dollars that an independent GFE escort must prepare for or she will find herself on a hamster wheel, chasing profits that are just out of reach, and around the corner, at her every turn.
A mid-to-high range escorts like myself makes between $200-350 an hour. Sounds like fantastic money when you begin to do the math. Let us add it up assuming we have a day with 4 dates, 9am, 1pm, 3pm, 6pm $800-1200 … not too bad huh? Plenty of time in between dates to shower and freshen up, nap, snack, or run out and buy a new purse or pair of shoes.
Ha! Things are rarely as they appear. Lets back up a bit.
9 am means I either need an early check-in or I need to have the room already secured from the day before, (2 nights room rate $150-300 plus deposit $25-100 for incidentals. UP FRONT!). We then add condoms, lubricants, panties and expensive bras, manicures, pedicures, tanning, toys, the-real-fucking-expensive-hairdresser, advertising costs, photographers, website developers, your own laptop, cell phone bill, eating in the hotel, tips for the front desk staff and housekeepers, also numerous monthly drug store runs. It is never-ending.
If that doesn’t sound pricey enough, factor in our minds, bodies, social lives, and our personal love interests, and you’ll see that we made a pretty-damn-expensive career choice.
To go on tour 3 days and book those 12 dates (3-4k before expenses), would be considered, for me, a successful trip, highly improbable but I have done it before. To secure 12 quality dates (and they all show up) will take serious effort. It’s called “work” ladies. I will pay from $60-350 to run my ads. Then (hopefully) the emails and calls start coming in. I will easily spend 3 to 4 hours reading and responding to emails and reservation forms.
I research and verify my potential date’s information and references thoroughly. Many hours go by and only 2 or 3 dates are secured. I easily spend 20 hours a week in front of my computer doing anything from emails, to booking my flights, comparing hotel room prices, updating my mailing list, reviewing new sites or special “offers” for providers, answering providers requests for references, reading blogs, and now writing my own, I search for articles and posts on sex, dating, and technique.
If you want to be on top of your game you have to make time for all of the above and more.
Our email boxes can fill up with so much stupid shit! The load can become a real burden. I, at one time, hired a professional and competent administrative assistant to help me at a cost of $400 a week. If you can afford this service it is money well spent. Be careful who you chose. The first team I went with, whom I won’t mention because I just got an email from them claiming they “are under new management”, sucked! Most of the services out there offer a free week to get you started. I liked working with Claire at Executive Luxuries and you probably will too.
I publish my cell number in a few select places and have taken calls, for business’ sake, during odd hours of the day and night, or while I am in the midst of family or personal time. This work is extremely demanding if you intend to make money, control your costs, appear professional, stay organized, and have time to get to the gym and through your entire beauty routine.
When women say, “I bet you make a lot of money” I smile and say it is the best job in the world, and it is, for me. While yes the cash does appear to be very pretty, it flows through our fingers faster than we care to calculate or admit to.
If we are not exhausted between date 2 and 3 and we are able to run out and buy that new purse or pair of shoes then in most cases we have chipped into our profit once again, because 9 out or 10 times we are buying those shoes for WORK.
In closing, I do see a lot of money, (which is why I do this … right?) I see a lot of money come; and I see a lot of money go. At the end of the week I am more often ahead than I am behind, but when measuring all the costs to be in this so-called money-making business I still often wonder whose profits are highest, the conscious or the unconscious negotiator?
Saying Goodbye To Your Provider
I can not resist publishing my two-cents on this idea.
I received a call this morning from a favorite gent of mine who asked me for my advice on how to tell a provider that he is no longer interested in seeing her.
He told me a week or so ago that he met with a provider he saw pretty regularly to tell her that he is now in arelationship and will not be meeting with her any longer. He told me the meeting lasted 15 minutes and he gave her $100.
His call this morning revealed that yesterday he was contacted by a second lady whom he dated a few times but who has not contacted him in several months. He enjoyed their time and is now wondering if he should ignore her or plan an exit meeting with her as well.
At first, I was puzzled. I was drawing a total blank and my hesitation was beginning to annoy me since I pride myself on having the answers.
Finally it dawned on me and I realized; it is NOT me who is confused … it is DEFINITELY HIM.
You DON’T say “Good-Bye” … are you fucking kidding me?
I had to break it down for him and I will break it down for you so that we never get confused about this idea ever again.
- YOU ARE PAYING!!!! Yes, its fun and intimate but it’s a business arrangement.
- You are not paying for sex; You are paying for her time and a connection that makes NO demands on you. She cannot EXPECT you to make a date with her. Period.
- News Flash >>>> You are NOT her GUY
- Understand that she is soliciting you. She may favor you, but she is looking to fill her calendar, and nothing more. If you want to make a date that’s great, if not ….. NEXT!!
It would make my day if every man I solicited on my mailing list, who no longer plans to date me, would set up a 15 minute date, say “good-Bye”, and then leave me a fucking $100 exit gift.
All you say to your provider is, “It is great to hear from you. Thanks but no thanks. Have a great day”.
Hookers Do Not Have Boyfriends
Fact: What we have are men who are willing to pretend they care for us so that they can fuck us for free while everyone else pays.
I have 3 ex’s I collected while in the business, two who knew exactly what I do for a living, and one whom I was outed to by a jealous “friend” and then he flipped-the-fuck-out and left me.
As for the two that knew, they both claimed to love me. One was married, but he had me super-convinced he was sincere. I knew him from childhood and I absolutely trusted him. We reconnected through Facebook. He claimed I was his “most memorable” lover and that he “had always loved me and always would”.
Supposedly my work did not bother him “much” because he understood it to be my nature; which I gather was beside the fact that he was still married, AND still fucking his wife, which of course he claimed he was not, until, albeit, they became pregnant! Not to mention the lovely bundle was delivered EXACTLY 40 weeks from my birthday 
Nice!
In any case. he said he was not surprised by my profession and still wanted me, actually “still loved me anyway”. He led me around for months, never turning down sex, often and selfishly indulging with little or no thought of my pleasure.
I was rarely bothered by my lack of an orgasm while with him because my business is sex; and I can cum when I want, plus: SEX IS NOT LOVE. I was in it exclusively for HIM and for the connection and intimacy we shared.
So am I bitter? Yes. I am bitter because the sex was real, but the intimacy was a farce. I gave and what I got in return was a lie. I later heard from our mutual friends how he frequently referred to me as “crazy” and how he “never intended to leave his wife”. While he and I laid together he said I was “the love of his life” and that “only I knew how to love him the way he wanted to be loved” …. that’s a far fucking cry from “you’re crazy”.
The second man who knew was constantly “borrowing” money yet was working ALL the time. I do not have to go in-depth here, we all know what he was after.
As for the real love of my life, he found out, and he can’t deal with it. Period or Ever.
There is no sense in quitting now and certainly I never would have just for “love”.
The decision to remain single is made when you come into this business; I just didn’t know it until recently.
I am who I am and I live my life the way I want to; the largest cost of this business is conventional love.
I would have chosen this lifestyle anyway but it would have been nice to know earlier on so that I could have enjoyed more, and had less expectations of these so-called “boyfriends” of mine.
Am I Bisexual
I was living in Greenwich Village New York in 1977, I was 9 years old. The Village competes with only San Fransisco and Key West for Top Hot Spots for the Gay Community.
Cross dressers, “queers”, even obviously gay-S&M folks in leather chaps with bare butts were common visuals for me and my friends who were coming of age in lower Manhattan during the 70′s and 80′s.
I was probably 10 years old when I attended Gay Pride Weekend festivities the very first time. It was part of our culture and it made Greenwich Village, with it’s mix of Gays, Rasta’s, and punk rockers, a unique and enlightening place to grow up.
I do support equal rights for everyone and that includes the gay community. Most of my friends are straight and many of them grew upexposed to the Gay community. The propaganda that gay marriage will somehow encourage homosexuality is total fucking bullshit!
That being said, having gay friends and role-models, if you have gay-tendencies, will definitely bring those feelings to the forefront. Gay people can sniff-out fencers and will call you to the mat if you ever give ‘em the slightest opportunity.
So I admit it, I do find women attractive, even sexy. Yes I have, and yes I would again definitely, indulge in the intensity that a hot woman offers.
HOWEVER, (!!!!!!!)
Women are a fucking trip and a half!! A nutty bunch we are and … well, full-on- full-time relations with a chick is a wild and crazy-emotional ride …. at minimum. I like chicks, they’re a ton of fun, but when it comes to true matters of the heart, I frequently go running off … just like a man.
Ha! Aint that irony?
I say keep the love flowing and live your truest life. Be YOU!!
Dating White Men
Yes, a large majority of men who call on me are White. Depending on the city, I also get a high volume of Jewish callers. Do Whites separate themselves from Jews? Hell, I really could care less but it seems that many of the men who call me DO care.
“Alisha, this will be my first experience with an African American girl”
I never coined a catch phrase for this declaration. There is always an odd pause and I begin to wonder just how much of an African-American experience does he want to have? Will I be “African” enough? Should I wear a dashiki and tribal jewelry? Will this be a … Safari-type date? He Tarzan, me Ah-Kumbu-Jane?
Okay, so while it is proven and true, that a date with me will be like no other, the secret truth is that, lean in, come closer (I am going to tell you that guess what??) being Black doesn’t have shit to do with it!!
First, let me clear up that I am Black and NOT African-American. Unfortunately I have never been to Africa nor my parents, grands, or greats. I am more American than many Whites in this country because at least one side of my ancestors have been here for more than 300 years, which absolutely solidifies me as a full-blooded American, whether “they” like it, or not.
That being said, I have NOTHING against Africa, I hope to go one day, but my true heritage is here in the United States. I am a Black-American. I prefer American-American but for purposes of this entry I will stick to topic.
Race is the annoying horse-fly in the room that no one wants to mention or swat-at ‘cuz it will become the entire focus of the room if you don’t kill it with the first attempt.
Race conversations are sex-mood-kills even if it’s phrased as a compliment. I remember once when I was a dancer a customer who probably had too much too drink asked me,
“Wow, what nationality are you”?
I looked at him as if it SHOULD be obvious but, “I am Black”
He said, “No!! No way!! You’re too pretty to be Black”.
I gagged, was he fucking serious? He didn’t even realize what he had said till it was long gone from his lips. What a dumb-ass.
My sista’s are so beautiful and I love my creamy-colored white gurls too. Ethnicity does not equal enthusiasm or a certain freaky behavior. Body shape may factor in, considering we Dark & Brown sista’s tend to be a bit thicker than our White sista’s. Funny, but as sure as I am writing this, there’s probably some sexy thick White chick sitting with her sooooo-skinny dark-skinned BFF thinking how “wrong I am”.
My point today on the subject is that my Mom is Jewish and no one ever says,
“Hey Alisha, this will be my first time with a Jew”.
Thankfully, but still.
Lately I have been dating a shit-load of “Brotha’s” and that is fine with me too. Guess what? There’s really no damn difference. Age and maturity are the determining factor for me. When they are business men over 35 years old, they are EXACTLY the same, aside from typical individual differences. Black or White, ALL men want the same thing; to be listened to, to make me laugh, have an intense release, and to be liked enough to be welcomed back.
What sets us apart is not race … it’s maturity and our sense of humor.
My Best & Worst Experience
Being an escort has allowed me to meet a variety of men. Some strangely entertaining. I dated a midget, a Hasidic Jew, (in full-garb, curls, and a black hat) a famous comedian, a lead R & B singer, a department head of the NYPD, a 400 pound bus driver, a couple that owns a substantial grocery store chain, someone’s wife, two NBA players, one quadriplegic, 2 paraplegics, a few car dealership and restaurant owners, a zillion lawyers, a couple dentists (one always brought me teeth whitening strips as a tip), a few dozen salesmen, accountants, and an endless amount of supervisors and managers.
It truly is difficult to award anyone best or worst, and which one should go first? This is a heap of pressure. Thankfully my good experiences far out way my bad ones. I am still smiling because as I reminisce through a parade of dates and personalities I am truly hard pressed to find the worst; and have too many options to choose one to serve as my best.
My worst experience would have to be an evening early in my career when I was working with an agency. A really crappy agency at that. I was drinking quite a bit back then and well that agency is probably just where I belonged. I was a little tipsy from hitting a pint bottle of vodka hidden in my purse.
I knocked on the apartment door and the gentleman who opened the door had 1/3 of his head caved-in. His injury was gruesome. With only a left eye he greeted me gently; I was speechless. It felt like my feet were glued to his welcome mat and that stepping across the threshold of his doorway would certainly require a huge gust of wind or a sarcastic shove from God.
It was not windy that night, it had to be a hard nudge from God.
I went into his apartment and I sobered up quickly. The entire top right side of his head including the eye area was missing. I had never seen such an injury before. He told me it was a motorcycle accident 5 years previous. I was so sad for him.
Pleasing him was easy. Each time I touched him his skin reacted with rising hairs and goose skin. His orgasm was intense and his other senses all seemed overly heightened. When our time was up he wanted to keep me longer but I was holding back tears and grief that I could not imagine holding onto for another hour.
I kissed his tortured face and I left. I still think of him. I wish I could have been better back then. I wish I had been more mature and would have stayed with him all night. I apologetically label that date my worst but not because he was gross or revolting, but because I realized that evening how cruel life can be. How in a flash we can become someone that no one wants to touch.
On a much lighter note, I have quite a few “Bests”. A couple took me to Vegas for a week and we stayed at The Sky Lofts atop of the MGM Hotel for a week. it was extravagant. The accommodations were over the top and we saw shows, gambled, ate at all the great places, and snuggled at night like three best friends.
The Hasidic Jew I dated was the funniest man I have ever spent two hours with in my whole life. He was sarcastic and playful. He surprised me in so many ways with his out going spirit and off the cuff personality. I never saw him again but if he ever called I would go running. Curls and all. I loved our time together.
My very best date of all is one of my attorney friends. This is where I get slightly sticky but I promised myself when I started writing this site that I would always be honest. So truth is that I have a slight crush on the man.
Am I crazy or human?
I am a professional and I realize I can never lose sight of my role in his life, but I must admit I am happy he chooses me. It has been two years since our first date which I unfortunately do not remember. My affection for him was not created on our first date. It wasn’t till his 3rd or 4th visit that I gave him a second look or a genuine listen.
He is married so there will be no true romance here. Well we do have a romance of sorts when we are alone for those two hours. When the clock strikes “Time-Up” we both retreat back to our perspective business roles and part like casual acquaintances.
I will not ever get it twisted but when he emails me to inquire about a time he has in mind I will shift any and every other date around to accommodate him. I know that without the exchange of money I would never have known him.
Bitter & Sweet.
Letter To The Wives
It is okay that we fucked your husbands and boyfriends for money. Do NOT ever have it any other way. Sounds as if I am advocating for it? In a way I am. Listen up ladies, sex is not love. The sooner you get a grip on that the better off you will be.
You might be sitting there thinking that you already know this, but do you? Think on it a moment. If sex is not love in your mind, why would finding out he had sex with someone else feel like a betrayal of the love the two of you have together? Why do you feel violated?
To our detriment ladies we have been wrongfully conditioned to concentrate on fidelity. We should give even more thought to your own sexual appetites, or lack of, as I so often hear. Focused on the wrong shit we have missed great men and happier relationships because we were arguing and constantly suspicious of his cheating.
Years of conditioning is hard to shake but keep reminding yourself of the facts. Sex is Not Love!
This does not mean that men are incapable of fidelity but what it does mean is IF he goes outside of your marriage for dates with escorts then you should chill the hell out (!) and appreciate the help.
The facts are few; either
a) you are tired of fucking him
b) you are not fucking him enough
c) you are not fucking him at all
OR d) you do not know your husband’s fuck fantasies
Let us be honest with ourselves ladies, if you are his wife or girlfriend and you are not a total-fucking-witch-on-an-electric-broom-stick (you know it if you are) then he WANTS TO FUCK YOU. He would rather fuck you and he will endure a truck load of your shit in order to bang you tonight.
Ladies, this is true and not up for debate, IF you are not fucking your man chances are EXTREMELY high that someone else is. Point blank period. Funny thing is, you know this already. That is why you spend so much time focused on whether or not he is cheating.
This is where I am on his side, if you know you’re not fucking him, and you do not have a doctor’s note, than you can’t say dog-shit about fidelity. Let him fuck chicks for money instead. If you are not fucking him, but he still wants his marriage than he obviously loves you!
Granted, sex is not always our focus ladies, but it is always his. Quit arguing with him over it. Relax the drama and face the facts. His extra curricular activity is because he wants more than just you. Get over it, give yourself a break, and have some fun with your man.
As a matter of fact, I suggest, to the realest of wives, who understand that their sex life with their husband is not all he would like it to be, allow and suggest to him that he seek professional attention from an escort. Sound crazy? Well I had a client once who’s wife actually drove him to our one hour date and waited in the car for him. I thought it was crazy-odd but at the end of our date he asked me to come down and meet her. I could not come up with a good enough reason to decline so I reluctantly went with him to the car.
She was reading a book in the drivers seat when we approached. When she saw us she immediately closed the book and got out of the car. She was uninhibited and without a single sign of jealousy, “Alisha, wow you are so pretty. Just like your pictures” and then she hugged me. Wow. I was stunned but sincerely smiling. She looked me square in the eye and said, “Thank you Alisha, Thank you for helping our marriage”. I was flattered and I realized in that moment that some women DO get it.
This wife should be teaching a class. Three good reasons why she is brilliant;
- First, by her knowing and allowing it she eliminates the fun for him of sneaking around.
- Second, he’s having the sex he wants with a woman who has zero attachment to him and vice versa.
- Third, if she ever wants a spin with a hot young stud she’s got it in the bank!
Here is a woman who is most likely thinking of her own sexual appetite. Brilliant.