I could cure sciatica and alleviate anxiety. I could soothe PMS and increase cervical mobility. I just wanted a few good regular clients. I had never blended my massage work with anything remotely sexual. Nor had I ever so much as glanced at the erotic services section of Craigslist.
But one day it came to my attention that many "providers" who should have been posting in the erotic services section were posting in the therapeutic section. I wrote to Craig Newmark.
He assured me that Craigslist would be more vigilant in removing misplaced ads. But for some reason, after that, I kept looking at the erotic services section. I never would have expected it, but reading the ads had begun to turn me on. I just want to pause here in part because I can already hear the voices of my detractors and also because I don't want to appear insensitive to any human suffering. I recognize that I'm a privileged, educated woman who could have done many things for a living, but opted to do sex work largely because it was exciting to me.
I recognize that there are women who do it reluctantly and out of necessity. I recognize that there are also women who are forced into doing it. I recognize that violence against sex workers and indeed against all women is a real threat and a dark shame. However, this piece is not about that; this is about me. And what happened to me during the fall of was that boundaries I had heretofore firmly established and carefully guarded were becoming blurred. The combination of financial need, dissatisfaction with my love life, sexual frustration and some age-old fantasy that was stirred up in me from God-only-knows-where was taking over.
The first time I had sex with a client it was entirely unpremeditated. A runner training for the New York Marathon, he'd come for what I thought would be a therapeutic massage. I was encouraged when he'd contacted me. I already had a number of regular clients who were distance runners and I found them to be very reliable -- the best of my clients. He was trim, nice looking, clean-cut, but seemed a little nervous as I led him into my apartment.
I tried to crack a couple jokes to set him at ease, then instructed him to disrobe and get onto the massage table -- underneath the towel, face down. The usual massage therapist schpeil. I left the room. When I returned he was in position, so I began to massage him. I moved the towel out of the way and tucked it in slightly to cover his buttocks.
Then I honed in on his legs since, from my experience with runners, legs are usually the trouble spot. His were long, lean, well-muscled. But instead of relaxing, he continued to seem uncomfortable, squirming a little on the table, shifting his head in the face cradle. Perhaps I had been spending too much time on his legs. I began to massage his back and then his arms.
But when I started to work on his hands, he suddenly grabbed mine and clasped them in his. Now, it's not like anything like this had never happened to me before, but ordinarily I would have quickly diffused the situation. What made it different this time was that a little jolt of sexual arousal had seized and overwhelmed me.
Maybe I had been thinking about it too much, maybe I had actually already unconsciously resolved that I would do it, but the next thing I knew, I was on the table, naked and he was massaging me.
When it was time for him to leave, he asked me how much he owed me. Now it was my turn to feel uncomfortable. I knew that I had given him extra, a lot extra although we didn't have intercourse and I wanted extra. But I was too ashamed to ask for it. It had been easy, pleasurable even. I would move on from there to greater and greener pastures. I read the erotic services section almost everyday, until I found an ad I wanted to answer, an ad for an ongoing arrangement.
He was offering a very tidy sum: I figured I had nothing to lose so I answered it, almost expecting to not hear back. When I did, I was floored. We had an email exchange over the course of the next few days. He wrote that although he was for the most part happily married, his relationship lacked "passion" and "eroticism. I became even more intrigued.
I sent him a series of incrementally more revealing photos with the head cropped off -- a virtual strip tease. When he asked to see my face, I told him that I'd have to talk to him on the phone first. He called from a real number, his work phone. The conversation reminded me of conversations I'd had during my internet dating days: I told him about some of my art and writing projects.
We agreed that we would meet in public first and if I felt comfortable, I would give him a therapeutic massage. Through our communication, I'd grown comfortable enough with him to invite him over. I fretted all day and changed my outfit several times in anticipation of his arrival. When I opened the door, he had a jacket draped over his arm and bemused expression on his face. He was in his mids, very conservative looking, wearing a pin-striped oxford shirt and tidy, pleated khaki trousers.
At first I couldn't tell if he thought I was more or less beautiful than he'd imagined I'd be. But as we settled in to what would become our customary positions in my living room, I knew from the intensity of his gaze that I had him "hooked. In a sense, I was "hooked" too. He was, although pleasant looking and mild-mannered, a little bit dull. But I loved playing the seductress, I loved feeling him in my power.
Exciting him excited me. They've got enough problems without introducing a sexually-confused lover into the mix. Also, "I am also a massage therapist" is doing Damion no favors.
Roughly three out of five guys who post attest to being massage therapists. Basically, it's code for, "I promise to provide half-assed foreplay before wanting to bang. She probably doesn't need the heaping second helping of mommy issues this guy's clearly bringing to the table.
Age and body type have intriguingly not been specified. By leading with all physical attributes including age, hair and eye color, height, weight and the description "attractive athletic," we know this guy is proud of what he looks like. The fact that he wants to meet up for a drink and exchange oral sex in a car, well, that leads one to believe that he probably lives with someone. If it's a girlfriend or wife, that's one thing. If it's his parents, that's kind of sad, plus it might mean the car he's proposing to make out in is owned by his folks.
If any bodily fluids are spilled, be prepared to be handed a Wet- Nap. Meanwhile, he completely forgets to give any sort of indication about what type of woman he's looking for, which gives off the impression that he'll pretty much let anybody gargle his goods. The fact that he spells maybe, "mabey" not once, but twice is also somewhat troubling. Women who like their sexual organs to be treated like the African monkey trap.
If you've been there and done it, you already know and understand what's written below What follows that quote is about words describing "fisting" in extreme detail You can click on the pic for the full ad, if you must.
The verve he uses when rolling out the numbered steps of the process makes it evident that this guy will approach a possible encounter like some sort of demented camp counselor demonstrating macrame. The header reads "Getting to be popular fun! More than likely, it's not the type of experience she wants to have just so she can share the story at the watercooler with her fisting-enthusiast co-workers.
Also, he might want to edit the tidbit about it taking " days for vagina to return to original state. Don't be a chicken.
I have rented a residence in North Vegas, off Craig street. If interested please email me for a appointment. I am very willing to please you. Additionally, it's been indicated that our cross-dresser lives in North Vegas. And while everyone knows what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, few are familiar with the North Vegas slogan, which is: What happens in North Vegas will haunt your dreams forever.
For someone who's not into female impersonators, there is so much wrong here. But even if that is your cup of tea, you've got to be taken aback by the doll photo. That's some crazy serial-killer stuff right there. Combine that with the freaky flowers-and-curls wig and any sensible person answering this listing would have to be at least a little worried about ending up in a freezer. You provide the cute and cuddly. Not looking for a one-night thing. I want all of the winter or when one of us finds someone better, whichever comes first.
I won't have sex with you. Cuddles is probably in the wrong section, because he's looking for more than a one-time thing and he's ardent in his declaration that there will be no sex. We can also assume that he doesn't have adequate heat in his home, as his winter-term relationship seems to involve you becoming his human space heater.
You've got a picture of kittens, you've asserted that you're a year-old virgin and the best descriptions you can come up with for yourself is that you have a "high metabolism? Cuddles, but you should consider eHarmony. If there's no ass play or misguided fantasy involved, Craigslist Casual Encounters has no use for you. Women who want to be manhandled by a lover with a questionable sense of style. Vanilla women is out of the question and I only do KINK women that have a drive and a need to be controlled and in a submissive relationship.
I am DOM in a good way, I am not a beater, yell or threaten - any male can to that, we call them ass holes. A true DOM knows how to control by asking once and can give you a look that will melt you in one second. This guy likes to be in control. He knows what he wants and he's confident in his ability to melt flavors other than vanilla with a look that has been clocked at one second. Unfortunately, honing this incredible melting stare power has kept him from having time to get to the mall.
Our best estimates track this tie to the Structure's spring collection. In the first line where he reveals that it's a recent picture of him. He may not be what we call "ass holes," but his pose and choice of neck wear are clearly giving off a heavy vibe of dork. And, it's not the sweet helpless sort of dork either. We're guessing that the annoying repeated capping of "DOM" is an indication our friend is desperate to act out a control fantasy that has something to do with being passed over for a manager position at the grocery store where he's a "professional" cashier.
We don't see why a listing that gives off the same bitter vibe he does in person would make his chances any better. I'm offering ot take you on a cruise to Hawaii expenses paid for with me that is round trip to LA. It just doesn't happen. So despite all the name calling, feelings of alienation and social discrimination, sometimes it is really, really awesome to be gay, like when you get extended a two-week Hawaiian vacation and cruise for a few hook-ups.
Also, sometimes it's not that awesome to be straight, broke and desperately in need of a vacation. Honestly, the only thing wrong with this listing is that it evokes a great deal of envy amongst heterosexual males. The curious straight guy who happens upon this inquiry will inevitably ask themselves why they've been cursed with an attraction to the opposite sex when the best you can hope for in the women-for-men listings are year-old single mothers looking to host dudes who enjoy big-bodied females at their mobile home.
The only way this goes wrong is if he's full of shit and the cruise turns out to be a trip around the bay on his Uncle Remus' fishing boat. You could really get hurt if you resist. But pushing past that fear, by passing through it, lite rally the joy that lies on the other side of convention If you're an atheist, you will get to know God experientially, from being fucked in the ass. Butt sex means a lot to this guy.