I Wanted To Kill Myself

I have the usual sob story: usual beatings from my dad, his psychological torture, absence of the most beneficial parenting, severe neglect, first generation immigrant experience, raped by my cousin at age 12, social ostracism, extremely repressive Christian environment and the list goes on. Consequently, I grew up being alone, which perpetuates that state, and recently I live with an anxiety disorder that is sometimes debilitating.

By age 29, I became extremely frustrated about my virginity, and decided to finally to visit an SP. I was in Amsterdam. At first, in the oversized Jacuzzi, she caressed my body with hers. This was the first time I touched a woman in a sexual manner. I felt like a human being, and almost cried. We moved on to the bed, but she laughed at me. She positioned her body so that it was difficult for me to have intercourse and eventually she told me to stop when I began to do it with feeling. Another SP had to take over to finish me, but fortunately she was comforting though lacked engagement. After it was over, she counseled me. (She and the other woman were Dutch, and as expected their English was perfect.) One of the advices she gave me was how it does not feel good without love. I wish I could find love, but I know that is not possible for me. That night I felt disgusted, angry and hated myself for seeing an SP. I wanted to kill myself. I went completely against my own moral convictions and support of feminism. The experience was not pleasurable at all, but rather very nerve racking and riddled with guilt throughout the whole act. It was something to simply do it and get it out of the way, so that I would be just like other non-virgin men.

I had two more days left in Amsterdam, so I decided to give it one more try and visited another agency. She was Belgian. She spoke with a French accent, so I had a difficult time comprehending her. Still, she was more comforting and psychologically put me at ease right away. She was affectionate, pretty and even erotic. She gave me a massage, which really put me at ease physically, and when we were doing it she appeared to be enjoying it as well. Of course, she was acting, but I appreciated her effort for a loser like me. I finally felt good, had that “afterglow,” mood of calm and strangely felt free. I ruminated if the moment of orgasm was the only possible authentic state of freedom. She explained something to me that lingered while taking a walk after visiting her, which was that visiting an independent SP or reputable agency was a good and healthy thing, as long as I do not over indulge, because sex is a necessary human experience.

Perhaps, I was becoming a corrupt scum, or I was becoming desensitized to seeing an SP. Unfortunately, this feeling of bliss was temporary as all experiences of authenticity are temporary, and I visited SP’s occasionally since then to seek respite from the severe feeling of loneliness. Having discovered what it feels like to be with someone, even with simulated intimacy, I began to long for it more and more. Still, even though the guilt and self-hate is not to the degree that it was when I first started seeing SPs, it continues and sometimes erupts with weight.

I am now 40 years of age, and I have never been with any woman, other than SP’s, because I have always been rejected. However, I also have not tried to initiate even a conversation with most women because of my debilitating anxiety, so I seek the comfort of intimacy with independent SP's to deal with the misery. I realize now that, as a human being, we all need to be touched to at least survive and live on, but once my mom dies I have no reason to live. I have no close or trust worthy friends, and so the loneliness is intense. I am damaged-goods, so even if someone would want me I can’t allow my baggage to affect her life in a negative manner. Therefore, I am not allowed a conventional relationship.

I'm a Young Black Guy

I'm a young black guy with a thing for older voluptuous white women. Prostitution has helped me realize my fantasy. My most memorable experience was with a single mother. We set a date at a hotel. She got some candles, started with a massage and we started having a nice conversation. Her body type was prefect for me: slightly saggy big breasts, round belly and nice ass. We got a great time together. 5 minutes after fucking, she started telling me funny stories about her son, the apple of her eye. We talked about normal stuff, like old acquaintances who had already met each other. I'm still struck by how giving she was by telling me about her son. Maybe she felt like I needed a little more confidence, she even gave me some nice compliments. Those lasted more than 1 hour.

I keep thinking of how nice it would be to keep my head buried in her chest, for protection. To only leave it unless absolutely necessary.

I have not tried that hard to explain my preference for larger white women to myself. Maybe I'm afraid it's based on this horrible stereotype of white women that I'm not even aware of. Maybe I'm afraid to put black women in perspective in this too. It's hard enough to talk about sex without putting race in it. As for my age preference: maybe I'm looking for a mother-son relationship.

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.