I Had Gone On A Bender

The first time I paid for sex I was twenty-four years old at a business convention in New Orleans. After finding out that my wife had slept with one of her co-workers while I was away, I had gone on a bender through the French Quarter. The last place I ended up at was a real dive, and I bought a "champagne room dance" from a woman working the bar. The champagne room was the antithesis of glamor; it was just an empty room with a couple of chairs, a red light bulb, and a blue plastic tarp that covered the doorway. When she seated me in the chair she noticed my wedding ring and asked if I'd ever cheated on my wife before. I hadn't realized until then what I had purchased, but I decided to go ahead with it.

I can remember it vividly; what she was wearing, the songs on the jukebox, and mostly talking to her afterward. She had a story about losing her husband in a car wreck and ending up in New Orleans. Even though the bartender had delivered the two splits of champagne, neither of us touched it; she was drinking peach schnapps from a bottle out of her purse. I didn't really feel anything about the experience, and to this day I still don't know what to make of it.

There was a five year interlude before I paid for sex again. By then, it was a lot easier to find "erotic services" online, and I saw perhaps a dozen providers over a few year period. Some I saw repeatedly; one I ended up dating for a few months. She was still working while we were together and it didn't bother me.

It's been over a year now and I don't really miss it. The sex itself ranged from at best okay to downright mediocre, and the experience didn't give me what I really wanted. It never really cut through the lonely feeling in my life, and I stopped trying to fill that with sex, paid or otherwise.

I Met This Girl

I'm 30 years old. I've had sex with a professional 4 times - all of the times were with the same girl. Worked my butt off in school to get into an Ivy League college. There I met a girl and fell madly in love with her - she was 2 years ahead of me in college. I worked like a demon, graduated a year early so I could set up a life with her. Within a week of graduating and leaving all my friends behind I found out she had been cheating on me with her boss who had a daughter my age.

She told me that her boss was better in bed than I was - I never got over that I think. In the 8 years since graduation I've met a number of attractive, intelligent women who seem to have liked me. The Ivy League pedigree and large salaries helped I'm sure. But I figured I'd disappoint in bed so I never pursued them. Over the years I got very used to being alone - thought I had made my peace with it.

But last year some friends dragged me to a strip club for the first time. It was fun at first - beautiful, friendly women who paid so much attention to me. It did wonders for my confidence. I still couldn't date normal women though - now they seemed so pallid and listless.

And then I met this girl - I won't name her. She's 24, blonde and exquisite - so beautiful it hurts me to look at her sometimes. When she touches me anywhere, sometimes my muscles cramp up because I can't believe someone so beautiful is really by my side. Her skin glows in light, and when she smiles people around her look instinctively because she touches something in them. I didn't think it was possible for people to look so good.

She told me she dropped out of high school - but after umpteen years in college and grad school all over the world, I have met very few people who could keep up a conversation with her. She discusses philosophy, science, music, literature with effortless ease. Every time I talk to her she surprises me with her insight. Did I mention how beautiful she is?

I spend 5,000 dollars a night to see her - I used to have a great job. I quit recently and started my own company which is also doing well - but the cash adds up. Every time I see her I think it'll be the last time but nothing I do gets her out of my head. She thinks I'm a nice guy but I'm just a john to her - to me, she's everything I've ever wanted or could want in another person.

My friends and family keep trying to set me up - women hand me their numbers at bars - but they fail so miserably in comparison to her.

I guess it will never work out but I can't think of anyone else I would rather be with.

I Got What I Wanted

Four months before my 50th birthday, I discovered that my husband of 28 years had been having an affair. I was crushed. For several months afterwards, I was split on whether to reconcile and "save" our marriage or leave. I just couldn't commit one way or the other.

I had a conference I was speaking at in New York. Inspired by the movie "The Wedding Date," I found an escort agency in New York and arranged for an "escort," preferably over 35, for the second night of my stay, after I completed my speaking obligation. My goal was simple. I needed to know that I could be naked in front of a man other than my husband and enjoy the experience. I'm attractive, but I have the stretch marks of four pregnancies, breasts slightly less than perky, and, despite daily workouts, thighs that jiggle. He called beforehand, offering to make dinner reservations, but I offered room service instead. I was nervous when he arrived, but he was very comfortable and relaxed. We agreed to have dinner later, and I started to undress but he stopped me. He undressed me, and then helped me undress him. If my body was anything less than desirable, I never felt it. He coaxed me onto the bed and, starting with my earlobes, kissed and stroked his way down, softly describing each body part as he touched it. He would arrange my hands and fingers and then kiss over and through them. We never did have dinner. Instead, we made love twice, he went down on me twice, and I went down on him once. We spooned and slept in between. In the morning, we showered and shampooed each other's hair. (I mention that only because it was amazing.) Afterwards, we had a somewhat erotic toweling off session, he dressed, and we talked for a couple of minutes. I asked him for an honest appraisal of my body. He was candid, but he closed with this: "What really makes a woman sexy is that she participates and actively enjoys, not just sex, but life. You are going to be just fine." He asked me if I would like him to come back that night. No. I got what I wanted. It wasn't romantic, but I wasn't looking for romance. It turned out to be the best $2,000 I ever spent--that includes a $500 tip.

What followed was unexpected. For the first time in years, I felt truly sexy and desirable. That night, I went out with a group of friends to a series of blues clubs. What followed became a running joke. Drinks were sent to the table for me. Men, primarily in their late 30s, hit on me. Even a member of our own group tried to talk me into a lesson on body shots.

More surprisingly, I went home to my marriage. Knowing that I had other choices and that I wasn't acting out of fear, I was able to commit to a reconciliation. I had to discreetly teach my husband several of the tricks I had learned, but I never told him. It is still tough at times, but I would never have been able, really, to return to my marriage without having taken this step.

I Am Handsome and Successful

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I'm a State Investigator

I'm almost 41, and I went to my first "provider" (I'm known as a "hobbyist") in 1991 and have not stopped since. Craigslist has made it very easy, as my windows are short and monitored. 1991 was the year I cheated and my girlfriend and I haven't had sex since. I always do Incall (I go to them) instead of Outcall because I've heard nothing but horror stories from Outcall experiences... pimps, drivers, etc. I've got tons of stories: some good, some bad. I had a bad childhood with a heavy maternal influence, mostly negative. My views aren't worth bragging about.

Before I make a selection, I google the number, see if the pics match the number, if anyone's used the number before... there is a filtering process between the legit and illegit. I have a college degree and have a decent job; good looking and slightly overweight. I never had a problem getting girls but my area is so self-obsessed that it's easier to go & pay rather than meet, exchange numbers, do the dance, blah, blah, blah. In & out and it's done. A message to ladies: just because the sex spigot is turned off doesn't mean your man stopped having sex.

I keep a coded diary, in case it's discovered. 1 dot is oral, 2 dots is vaginal sex, and 2 connected dots is anal sex. In the event that someone questions the dots, they are associated with good/bad days: no dots are normal days, 1 dot is a good day, 2 dots is a great day, and 2 connected dots is the best day for that week. Before Craigslist, it took time to figure out where SW (streetwalkers) applied their trade. There are telltale signs about law enforcement, and I just smile, say nothing further, and drive away. I always ask girls if they want a ride. Cops will not get into the car, as they cannot control that situation. Normal girls will get in, and we'll make small talk, never discussing solicitation. I'll tell them they look really nice and inform them that they're so cute that I'm hard/erect/engorged (words to that effect). If they touch, grab, and yank, then we talk. The glove box is always locked, no rings, no watches, no extra keys, no necklaces, nothing that can be taken/ripped off should they decide to steal and jump out the passenger door. I downplay my job (it always comes up), and I tell them I do data entry. I drive a modest car. My filtering process is excellent, as my only scary event was when this girl tweaked, got really mad, and threatened to kick out the windshield to my car (in 1997). I told her we were driving straight to the police station, and she calmed down and I let her out.

As I age, I scale back, but stress is a trigger... looking at my diaries, intense stress pulls the trigger on finding providers. If I can get a handle on managing my stress - but then again, I view ejaculating as eating or breathing. Eventually the parts will not work the way I want them to work, so for the time being, I'll use what I have.

In my day job, I'm a state investigator, so it's ironic that I enforce laws. I'm against morality laws, as anyone who doesn't harm another should do what they want, whether it's finding a provider or smoke ganja. Cops should investigate nothing but real crimes like identity theft, bank robberies, rape, murder, etc. I view daily the corruption of state government ("The Wire" is the best comparison), as good people are castrated and morons/assholes are placed in positions where public service falls behind self-service. I keep thinking back to that line that Anthony Hopkins used in "Legends of the Fall." Oh yeah, organized religion is for those who have no internal morality compass & need outside assistance.

My mom was nuts, and aside from the mental illness, loved her wine and valium... Sundays was a real carnival, and me being the eldest bore the brunt of her wrath.

I Was on Anti-Depressants for a While

The first time was when I was 19, high on drugs and fed up with being a virgin. I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was a teenager, and this was one of the less stupid things. My parents were out of town, and I called an escort. An hour later a skinny, not unattractive blond woman at least six years older than me stood at my door. She was friendly, erotic and obviously quite experienced. It was good, though I wouldn't call it fantastic, and I wasn't a virgin anymore.

My experiences with paid sex have been varied since then. I don't consider myself a 'regular', as I don't have a fixed agency nor a specific brothel, and I don't do it more than maybe a few times a year. But I'm probably the type of guy the sex industry thrives on.

In my mid twenties I was on anti-depressants for a while. One of the side effects of the drugs was that I was perpetually horny, and ironically enough the drugs also made it very hard for me to reach orgasm. I went to a brothel I'd heard from through an acquaintance, the first time I'd ever been in a brothel. Until then escort agencies had been my suppliers of choice.

The girl was stunning. I could barely believe she was in the industry. She turned out to be distant, however, and a bit too professional. I didn't reach orgasm, which I assured her was no fault on her part, and the look she gave me told me she was well-aware that it wasn't her fault.

I quit the anti-depressants shortly after that, having overcome my demons in a more traditional way - by growing up. I continued with the occasional escapade with working girls, when I could afford it and was sufficiently deprived. As my career advanced and my salary increased, so did my visits to brothels become more frequent. I even gave a friend of mine a brothel-visit as a birthday present. He appreciated it.

In my country prostitution is legal and brothels have standards of safety and hygiene to adhere to. As such I've never been too worried about the health of the working girls I've been with, though of course condoms are always used. I wouldn't want to go without them. The thing is, I like going down on women. I like it a lot. The last time I made a visit, I chose this tall, thin brunette with nipple piercings topping her small breasts and a few tasteful tattoos adorning her lean frame. Her eyes smiled as she was introduced to me, and more than anything else that's why I picked her. I went down on her for a full half hour, and after she came (or expertly faked it) she panted that this didn't happen often to her. Whether it was professional courtesy or not, I appreciated the comment. The subsequent fuck was intense and a lot of fun, as if she wanted to repay me. A memorable experience.

And probably my last one. That visit was made when I'd been dating someone for a few weeks. The sex with my new girlfriend wasn't great and she didn't enjoy receiving oral, hence my urge to visit a brothel again. I cheated on her, and now that our relationship has grown it bothers me more than it did then. The sex is still bland, but that is something we can work on, and our emotional bond is much more valuable to me. She hasn't been with many men, and while she knows I've had a more active sex life than her, I haven't the heart to tell her most of my sexual partners were paid ones. Even in my country that's a taboo, a stigma that marks you as a loser. I disagree with it wholeheartedly, but that doesn't make the prejudice go away.

I Was on the Verge of Losing It

I'm 28, a moderately successful and over-educated white guy and I've been seeing prostitutes for about 2 years now.

It started after a really horrible break-up, a death in my family and a job loss all occurred within the same 3 month period. I was dealing with things that were just awful and horrid (wakes, unemployment, depression, relationship dramatics) all the time and I was on the verge of losing it. I did have an inheritance so money wasn't tight at least.

I was on Craigslist one night, bored, lonely and horny. So I wandered to the Erotic Services section. I was pretty put off by most of the ads. I consider myself very liberal and think of the sex industry as generally pretty exploitive and cruel. Seeing all the ads that were clearly put up by very desperate women was anti-arousing really.

Then I saw B's posting. She was a curvy artist who described herself as a 'courtesan'. She posted a Jean-Leon Gerome painting of a reclining Harem girl instead of a face picture. I was curious, called her and booked a session.

She came to my place and was absolutely wonderful. We talked about art, music sex-positive porn, genderfucking, queer theory and BDSM. I've always had kink in my heart but hearing someone so open, so free in expressing it was wonderful. She was an amazing lover and I enjoyed her company as much as the sex. I felt free to experiment, to play and because it was a professional exchange I didn't feel as shy. Not that I was disrespectful of her, but asking your girlfriend to us a strap-on has a lot more nuances to it than asking your 'courtesan'.

I started seeing her once or twice a month and have kept on doing so even though I've been in relationships. I won't lie and say I don't think of it as cheating, it is. I finally stopped when I met a woman who, to be honest, shared a lot of similarities with B. I told B about this and she wished me nothing but happiness. We've spoken a few times since and seen each other socially. It's a bit like work friends after one person has moved to a different job.

B was an eye-opener in a lot of ways. Most of all, she showed me what I really wanted in a partner. My girlfriends before had been very much the type of women I thought my family or friends would approve of. After B I knew I wanted someone who shared not only my kinks but my passions as well. I'm really grateful to her. I've had friends comment on how I've changed and how I've become so much more confident and assured. In no small measure, B is responsible for that.