Not So Secret Diary of a Call Girl

18. Full time whore, part time prostitute

Since when did I stop enjoying sex?

I’ve been a very busy whore lately. My exams obviously take priority and like I always say this arrangement isn’t permanent. However, I feel myself being consumed by the job. The more I do it, the more I love it. This could potentially be problematic.

The clients have been fairly boring recently which is a great shame. A part of me took this job because I wanted to learn more and extend my already extensive adventurous approach to sex. I feel very sorry for the people who mistake sex for ‘making love’. This is a term people use to describe restrained, awkward sex which involves starring at one another until he cums.

The issue with this sort of intercourse is the girl very rarely finishes. It is purely about the man and satisfying his needs. Of course I love making a guy happy and satisfying him is where I derive a great deal of my pleasure. Watching his head roll back as I caress his balls with my tongue, his pulling of my hair during doggy or anal getting completely lost in the moment. This is all wonderful however, I haven’t encountered the kind of sex through my agency which makes my eyes roll to the back of my head, which makes my moans of ‘yes’ vibrate as I say it, which makes me shiver every time he sucks my breast or kisses my neck. Overall it has been very disappointing.

Maybe I was a fool, thinking I could derive genuine sexual pleasure from the kind of men who feel the need to pay for it. After all, real men don’t need to pay.

The establishment of regularity

I officially have a regular.

I won’t disclose his name. He’s hardly young, cute or interesting for that matter but I have gained a sordid sense of pride having obtained a client who wants to regularly fuck me. It’s a strange feeling because you take things like this to heart yet wish to remain entirely professional. He clearly enjoys my company and I feel sort of special. This is a man who pays every week for girls because he gets bored of the one woman at home yet he has chosen to give up his nomadic ways and see me on a regular basis. Like taming a horny lion.

This is a man who hates normalcy. Who hates routine. Every man who goes to a hooker hates these things so to me the idea of a ‘regular’ in this job is a very unnerving and bizarre concept. Men come to girls like us because they don’t want ordinary, boring, routine missionary sex. For them this is their chance for pure and utter sexual liberation without judgement or hang-ups which will follow them home. They pay for a separate universe which will never coincide with their reality. A regular in my opinion merely undermines that message. Maybe in his opinion I can never be regarded as normal. Perhaps it’s my flattering and masculine trait of not really caring. It bemuses them to see a girl who isn’t needy, or clingy with feminine behaviour.

To me sex is sex. I love being a whore. I love being a submissive, passive woman who allows a man to do anything he likes to her, however demeaning or degrading. My client the other night tied me to the bed, inserted one of the biggest vibrators I have ever tried, I mean seriously, fuck, as well as a but plug officially covering all orifices while he had his dick cumming in my mouth. He was particularly a fan of noisy oral. He loved the sound of gagging, slurping, slapping, and talking inaudibly about how filthy and dirty I was. Sorry Feminists.

I need to reaffirm to myself that this is just a job and the man who chose regularity is merely doing so for the sex, not for some sort of special connection. First rule of the job, disassociate sex from emotions. Girls don’t cry during anal because of the empowering, overwhelming connection of love and bonding they feel with their partner. Who said romance was dead?

My first time

Prostitute speaking. Obviously.

I won’t disclose his name for obvious reasons but it was strangely normal, clean, simple missionary. I was expecting to meet men with obscene fetishes and fantasies who find whores to re-enact them. I was expecting rough, degrading, dehumanising sex where I’d orgasm twenty-five times because they’d be experienced enough to know what makes girls tick.

I quite like being treated like a slut - the sound of clapping when he thrusts, the hair pulling. It makes me feel like we experienced something. The kind of sex where I can’t walk afterwards because my legs shake, that always makes me feel better than the ‘puppy dog eyed missionary sex’ that most teenagers encounter.

In reality the sex wasn’t like that at all. I found a shy middle aged man who gave me the money, told me to lay on the bed and left straight afterwards. There was no real connection or passion. I don’t really know why he paid me to have sex. He was fairly good looking, married. Maybe paying was his fantasy. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who isn’t bold enough or confident enough to degrade a real life whore through the use of explicit sex so he uses the money instead. For him it was all about control which is fair enough, after all, he paid for me.

I’m not regretting my decision, it was the first client, the agency were bound to introduce the world to me gently. Bring on my Friday, 2pm.

The Birth of Alice

There are many misconceptions about whores. The media has created two polarised opinions which they believe characterise a whore: either the dirty, ugly, desperate prostitutes that everyone saw singing in Les Mis or the glamorous, sexy and narcissistic Belle from that programme with Billie Piper.

My blog is going to depict the real life of an Escort, premature ejaculations ‘n all. Why? I guess I’ve learned that when you’re on a downward spiral, fall in style.

I am currently an 18 year old student needing extra cash. Let’s just say as flawless as the gov.uk website is, Student Finance England is hardly England’s ‘USP’. After applying for numerous dull jobs such as waitressing a friend suggested an Escorting Agency. I never really understood what was so taboo about exchanging money for sex, people have one night stands with strangers all the time yet sex in a regulated environment with a securely checked client is wrong purely because he pays me?

When applying I needed a slutty yet cute nickname. I considered ‘Bambi’ because of the eyes. I do love to give oral. However, I decided to go with Alice. It suited my personality traits. Above ground I’m a legit member of the Von Trapp family but underground, anything can go into my hole. The name Alice has reminded me that this is just a job and it is my job to fulfil the perverted fantasies men don’t wish to disclose to their significant other. What happens in Wonderland stays in Wonderland. There is no normal in my rabbit hole.