Hello everyone!

We are Esteban Sanchez from Costa Rica and Kistina Samsudin from Malaysia.

Both of us are “international students” from Saint Mary’s University, Halifax, Canada.

As international students, we know quite a number of different people from different countries, such as people from Japan, Lebanon, Sri Lanka, Korea, China, Hong Kong, Venezuela, Mexico, Germany, India, Lithuania, Ukraine, Thailand, Finland, Jordan, Turkey, Taiwan, etc.

We would like to share our experiences as international students throughout our degree with everyone around the world.

We hope that our experiences, regardless of whether or not it is a happy, sad or funny experience, get to enlighten everybody throughout their daily lives.

Feel free to drop a comment

Love,
Experiment Kids.

I first encountered Tara Tainton, when I started my first amateur sex-blog in 2005. I was beginning my foray into exhibitionism on the web and at that time she was still a blogger, although a very popular and advanced one. Her appreciation of my blog was more than welcome and her refreshingly, joyful, down-to-earth approach to sex was and is a joy.

A forces daughter, this smart, feisty, part-native american, fox (She is uber-hot in a very real way!) has gone onto host her own website, reviewing sex-toys and sites, posting beautiful exhibitionist pics, journal entries about her own, admittedly nascent encounters, audio of her masturbating and much, much more. Recently she made the huge leap to amateur porn star, typically by starring in her own self-produced movies, and selling them to distributors. Her shrewd and independent spirit showing through in her self-controlled, diginified, intelligent and damn sexy approach to her gloriously, lusty exhibitionism. She is a lesson in how to accidentally become a different sort of erotic star, an altogether sexier, more sophisticated, multi-dimensional Eroticist.

Throughout this time we have maintained personal correspondence which has always been enlightening and delightful. I consider her a great friend I’ve haven’t (unfortunately!) met yet.

I’m not into advertising, but Tara is different. By supporting and promoting her, I feel like I am supporting all sex-bloggers and people who are bravely stepping out into new sexual territory; you couldn’t hope for a better companion. For all sex-bloggers and lovers of sexy writing, sexy pics and sexy people, Tara Tainton is a shining example of how to take your sexuality to different places, new levels and be yourself with dignity and have fun along the way. That is as much as any of us can hope to achieve.

Thanks Tara, Stay Sexy…
OXXXO

http://www.taratainton.com/
http://www.tarataintonxxxvideo.com/
http://http://www.tarataintonxxxvod.com/
http://www.tarasnaughtyshop.com/

So what is it I am looking for, a lady who I can rescue from her incomplete life and incidentally have free sex for life with? A girl I can visit maybe 10 times a year and for an hour or two at a time and pretend I have a normal sex life? A girl who will release my inhibitions and willingly let me enjoy delightfully decadent and ‘dirty’ sex? Multiple different girls, young, mature, slim, busty, blonde, short, tall, in my never ending exploration and quest to find my perfect sex partner? A girl who will surrender her body and mind to me for our time together, is such a commercial relationship possible?

Do I use parlours/ girls as a dating agency? Well I certainly enjoy meeting new girls and having sex with them for an hour or two. But I know there is little danger that if I am uncomfortable with them she will want to follow me home, the flip side is if I do find her to be someone special I know there is no chance of her wanting to come home with me.

Ideally I would like to book multiple hours and more frequently, so much could be learnt so quickly, it is not possible. I am not a wealthy man, comfortable but not a huge disposable income; my strength in the real world is my mind, my integrity I hope. I will never make a hooker rich, maybe supplement her income, a client she looks forward to in some way I hope, and maybe someone different to talk to, a friend of sorts I guess.

I have always thought it important to show the girl, I valued her; that she was not a piece of meat solely for my pleasure. I mean I try to be subtle with this I don’t ask her out on a date or engage in a philosophical discussion, I try to complement her on her appearance or manner, this sometimes backfires and sounds just like I am objectifying her I suppose. There is a big difference between ‘you wear you hair beautifully’ and ‘christ your knockers are hot’. In a parlour I always ask the girl if she is happy to spend an hour with me, I don’t assume if I haven’t seen the girl before. I take the opportunity to try my conversational skills with the girl, a poor attempt sometimes to put us (me) more at ease. It surprises me to see guys looking furtively across the room and the first thing the girl knows about it is the manageress telling her that guy over there has booked her, I would hate that if I was a working girl. She also has a mind I wish to experience, but she has to trust me as I trust her that at the end of the time I had paid for I would leave and never trouble her again. If our paths crossed again great, but I would never seek her out on anything other than a professional basis no matter how much she had taken hold of my mind. If I meet her in the street, a pleasant hello and in the appropriate situation maybe a quick conversation, if she was obviously working I wouldn’t acknowledge I had recognised her out of respect for her and her clients privacy.

I have been surprised to come (slowly) to the realisation from various forums that the girl is not always comfortable with the guy trying to be a friend. She is offering her body, at its simplest she wants you to pay, get what you want, and then leave, a pleasant memory maybe but nothing more. She is the professional and I am the amateur. She controls the tryst, I should just let go and do as I please, she will let me know if I go too far and try to take what is not offered. I am scared if she chastises me I will sulk , loose all confidence and be unable to continue. The sex suffers because of my timidness, not because I don’t want to try more, but because I don’t know when it becomes appropriate. One of the hottest moments I spent with a girl was when she sucked my fingers clean; it was so spontaneous, honest, intimate and so simple. Respectfully and confidently taking what I want, I need a girl to learn from and be taught that, trust again.

She doesn’t need a friend, she wants a good client nothing more, and I need to be a good client for the right girl. What is a good client? For me it goes without saying that good hygiene is critical. Someone who walks (crawls?) away satisfied? Someone who confidently takes what is offered and leaves on time satisfied to return again and again? I guess a good client can earn the right to be a friend, for the duration of the booking? A good client is someone who doesn’t get into her head. I hope that being a good client is not only lavishing the lady with gifts and extra cash, because I will never compete on that level. I guess my original uninformed view of a hooker was that of an insecure fallen woman, down on her luck that was preyed upon by lecherous men and coerced into a lifestyle that she was uncomfortable with. Maybe there is still some truth to that somewhere. Now I realise after visiting a few working girls, reading their thoughts online, and talking to them in real life. That some of them are strong willed, intelligent woman in control of their lives, they don’t need or warrant my pity or pitiful attempts to improve their self esteem. They deserve my admiration and my respect. These are the ladies I seek. That doesn’t mean I will put them on a pedestal either, they will need to be comfortable with treating me as their equal, not the same but equal.

What I want is good sex with a girl I trust to enjoy her time with me. I am happy to visit a different girl each time and have a new and unique experience every time. And if I find a girl who likes me, I will keep coming back. Maybe I cant handle the emotional attachment of a regular girl, I couldn’t bear the thought of her enjoying with everyone else that which I could enjoy so rarely? Perhaps I am better off with a different girl each time? I think I will just continue working my way through the girls that interest me and if I find one who would work as a regular for me and I for her, I will keep seeing her. Not really rocket science is it! Can I handle this sort of relationship, can I walk away, knowing I can’t come back to her for 4 to 8 weeks. Knowing the lady of my intrigue will be regularly enjoying what I want, with others. Will jealousy, envy consume me? I don’t think so, it is the way it is, and any small flashes of envy she will never see, I have become an expert at disguising my feelings from others (with the exception of contempt for idiots), this blog is an aberration made easier because none of you really know who I am. Perhaps she can help me release the good emotions.

Believe it or not outside my social insecurities I am a confident bordering on arrogant man. My self confidence and moderate intelligence has allowed me to see and experience many unique things that most never will, it’s just that I have mostly experienced them on my own. Inner strength and self reliance is not always a good thing. I guess I have found my answer. I want to share my life with the woman who loves me, I want to be in her head as much as she wants to be in mine (maybe I already have this and are too blind to see it). Until that happens (and maybe even after with her consent) I need a regular girl I can pay to approximate a normal (well maybe a little infrequent and hopefully a little kinky) sex life. Someone who understands and trusts, can be a mentor, friend and equal for the time of the booking and be comfortable with the fact that she will occupy a part of my mind between bookings. She needs to be confident in herself and the job she does.

This is my perfect escort, the fun part a about real life is exploring and learning, finding what really works for you and what doesn’t. While not every meeting I have had with a working girl has been a success they have all been a valuable and treasured experience and I thank the girls who can provide a guy like me with those experiences.

What do I want from a Hooker, Part One?

Sex? companionship? dating agency? thrill of the naughtiness? Education?

Reading various forums and blogs over the last few months have lead me to question why is it and what do I want from a visit to a hooker? What do I expect from her and what do I think she expects from me?

I am coming up on my three year anniversary of my first visit to a parlour, Bianca was her name a beautiful young blonde Brazilian, probably of German descent. Gorgeous, I was so nervous that all that could be managed was a massage and a game of play with the limp noodle and then the hour was up, no happy ending. I had been naked with and touched a beautiful woman again, small steps. Was I satisfied? No. Was I disappointed, not really. The situation was foreign to me and I knew I could do better when I got my head around the situation. I was now addressing the problem, great!

How did I end up in a parlour?
I have been with the same lady, my one and only girlfriend, partner really, for about 15 years, we are best friends we know each other intimately, we holiday with each other, we are comfortable with each other, we know when to push and have mostly learnt when to back off. Five years ago I moved to a city in the other island for work. A modest success from a financial point of view and probably important for my self development, even though I am an independent person I had never lived alone before the move. I have effectively lived the life of a single man ever since while retaining a long distance relationship. For a variety of reasons and with fault evenly attributed we haven’t had sex for at least seven years, maybe not even this millennium. We’ve been to Venice, Paris, Rome, Florence and many other fantastic places in the world, but I had never made love outside my own house, good grief that drives me mad. I know I am far more passionate and romantic than that, someone just needs to help me find the key to unlock it. If this sounds familiar to anyone, for goodness sake communicate with your partner. The lack of sex was beginning to play on my mind, affecting my judgement, my self confidence and occupying far too much time in my consciousness, while I wrestled with my thoughts and morals about paying for sex, my relationship and my own place in humanity. I was becoming increasing unpleasant and unproductive at work and knew if I didn’t do something soon I would be without a job. And possibly loose my best friend as well anyway.

What Do I Want?
So where am I now 3 years 16 girls (I can remember each of them, not all the faces or dates, just feelings good and bad. They all have a place in my memory) and 27 hours of sex later? What is it that I am looking for?

I have come to the conclusion I don’t get off on paying for sex, don’t get me wrong I have no objection to paying what the girl is worth and I am grateful for the opportunity in most cases, it just isn’t the driver for me. In fact it detracts, I need to believe the girl wants to be with me, it’s a trust thing I guess. I have Scottish ancestry, we don’t really like paying for anything, but we are renowned for paying for quality when its needed. I have had terrible sex, no communication or enthusiasm, with girls that should never have been in a parlour in the first place. Those encounters have led me to question what I do the most and whether I should continue. I have also had great sex with girls that I know I could never relate to outside the parlour. They shared their bodies with enthusiasm and honesty. Many of the girls if the circumstances were different I am sure I could have become friends with, and two of them I am certain had circumstances been different we could have had a very special relationship. They shared their thoughts maybe even their dreams as well as their bodies. They were close to my age and intellect.

I am not into kinky sex, hell I would be lucky to have logged a 100 hours in the saddle, I am still a novice, I have no idea what kinky sex is. Too be honest I am too scared to ask in case I offend the girl. My preference is for a girlfriend experience. I like kissing, it doesn’t have to be deep kissing. Nibbling all over, I love mutual oral. Pleasure and be pleasured! Have you seen the look of ecstasy in your partners face? No? neither have I but I am working on it! Well maybe I have seen enough glimpses to keep me encouraged.

I am not the most communicative guy and with a new girl I guess I can seem aloof and maybe even disinterested. It must make it very difficult for the girl to provide the seemingly genuine girlfriend experience that I crave. But a handful have succeeded and I will be forever grateful to them for it. I guess at some level I feel that if I have to pay for sex then I am not worthy of the women I am with, perhaps it has nothing to do with the money, perhaps I just think I am unworthy? Theres a thought. I find it hard for me to find release. I could pump away for an hour or two if the girl could handle it and that is not boasting , it’s a curse, I get to the point where I feel the girl has had enough my mind goes off to the wrong place and while remaining capable, no happy ending again. I mean what working girl wants to be used for the whole hour or two; it would depreciate her asset for at least the rest of the evening I would expect! It is hard to get off when you can only think that she wishes you would just hurry the @#%& up. The best times I have spent with a girl are the fifteen minutes of quiet post coital embrace and conversation. I can relax and enjoy the moment; it has been a completely successful visit. Those moments are the ones that make me come back. They are probably the moments when the girl can see me at my most natural.

For those of you not familiar with Escorts Forum and Pimp the Punter, the links should be over there on the right of your screen I think. I am intrigued by Pimp the Punter. The relationship dynamic would be so different, she would have demonstrated a genuine interest in me, I would be in control, and it would be up to me to make the date work, a role I have never played. It could be a big step on the road to enlightenment and satisfaction.

That’s enough words for today. I will come back soon with part 2, What do I expect from her and what do I think she expects from me?

Thanks for reading. Writing this is helping me sort out things in my own head. If I have said anything you agree or strongly disagree with, you can find me over there (to the right) on Escorts Forum. NCC1701 is my user name, join in on a thread or message me I would be glad to hear your views. Or simply leave your comments below, I would appreciate it

So, one year ago today, I made my first move into the world of escorting. Yay for me, right. On the Escorts Forum website, Ms Munro posed a few questions for me around this momentous occasion. I’ve been intending for a while to try out this whole blogging thingumy, and figured this was a good way to get started.

So how did I begin down this path? How does one go from the life I used to lead, to a life in the sleazy, sordid world of the flesh trade? Perhaps not surprisingly, it was really quite simple. Having gotten out of a decade-long relationship a few months earlier, I was understandably doing everything I could to make up for lost time. Actually that should probably read “doing everyone I could”. I’m bisexual, and had for a long time suppressed this side of myself. Perhaps due to this repression of my bisexuality, the majority of people I was hooking up with were men. Or perhaps it’s just that men are easier to score. At the same time, I was getting into some pretty dire straits, financially speaking. So one day, the logical (for me anyway) conclusion sprang to mind. I was meeting up with random strangers for sex, I needed money, so why not put the two together, and become a man-whore.

I suppose I should say that I argued the moral and societal implications of this decision. That I spent days wrestling with my conscience. But the truth is that I didn’t. The decision was a very easy one to make, and once reached, it felt right. I have always been “highly-sexed”. I guess most guys will lay claim to that, but in my case it really is true. Not just the normal red-blooded male sex drive, but rather a permanent desire to push sexual boundaries, to try as many new and varied indulgences as humanly possible. The standing joke used to be that I was, rather than bisexual, trisexual. As in try-anything-sexual. So at the risk of sounding blasé, this sojourn down the path less traveled was remarkably easy to begin.

Being a man, I assumed (correctly) that parlours would be pretty much a non-starter for me. Therefore, the only path I saw open to me was to work independently. My first stop was the NZPC, where the lovely Carol proved to be a veritable font of information. She confirmed that private was the only way for me to go, but also told me not to expect much if any work, as Dunedin isn’t a good place to find women willing to “pay for it”. When I explained that I was bi, she revised it to “you’ll do better then, but don’t give up your day job”. So armed with a new worker’s kit, I trotted off to the local paper to place my first ad.

Wednesday, D-Day. My phone goes off a few times, guys wanting to know what I look like, what I charge, what I’ll do for the money. Finally a call turns into a booking. He’s from out of town, he’s in a hotel, and he wants me. Well, he wants someone, and I present the best prospect of safe discreet fun that’s not going to end up stalking him. Half an hour, a nice easy intro to the job. What will he want? “How about a massage to start with and we’ll see where it goes from there”. Great, that doesn’t really tell me what I’m in for.

Okay here’s the first stumbling block. I’m bi, I’ve given head to God knows how many men. I’ve fucked my fair share (possibly more than my fair share). But I’ve never been fucked. It’s something I’ve long fantasized about and wanted to do, but had always chickened out. It’s one of those things that, once done, can never be undone. But
now a man is going to give me money, and will possibly want to put an end to my anal virginity in exchange for said money. Talk about putting your ass on the line.

Time passes, and the time of my booking draws nigh. Showered, shaved (upstairs & down) and smelling nice, I arrive at the room. I’m greeted by a friendly enough chap. We small-talk for a bit, money changes hands, and then it’s time. We strip and move to the bed. I start to massage his back. This isn’t so bad, we’re talking easily, it’s not that unlike any other hookup I’ve had. He rolls over so I can massage his front. Things begin to progress ………..

Half an hour later, dressed, feeling a small bulge of twenties in my back pocket, I’m ready to leave. He still has a big smile and sweat beading his forehead. He had a great time. He’ll definitely call me again next time he’s in town. He wishes he’d been able to book me for longer. Somewhat sheepishly I tell him that I enjoyed myself too. I tell him he was my first. He feigns surprise, but I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe me. After all, I’m a whore, so of course I’m only saying what I think he wants to hear.

We say our goodbyes, and I leave. Walking down the corridor, how do I feel? I’m now officially a prostitute. A sex worker. A hooker, a whore, a tart. Worse still…I’m a man-whore and I take male customers. Can I be any lower? Actually yes, I could be a lot lower. I’m virtually airborne as I walk away. I have this silly grin plastered across my face as I tell myself “I just got paid for doing something I would have done anyway”.

I get home and look at myself in the bathroom mirror. Do I look different now? Nope. I feel different. It’s as if this night has bestowed upon me some new-found confidence. I already knew that I was a fairly talented lover (not bragging, just stating a fact), but now I was a professional. It was the sexual equivalent of transitioning from club rugby to playing for the ABs.

And now a year has past. I often look back on that first booking, and wonder, if it had been less pleasant, would I have continued? Probably. Would it have coloured my thoughts on the industry? Maybe initially, but overall, I don’t think so. Do I regret my easy decision to sell myself? Not at all. My only “regret” is that I must hide my work from public view. I fervently wish that I could go public. The likes of Ms Munro are truly an inspiration. To boldly say to the world “I’m a sex-worker – deal with it”. I wish I could. A handful of close friends know what I do, but I have to consider the effects upon a miniature person if I was to go public.

So there you have it. My first foray into blogging, describing my first foray into whoring. If things go well, and if anyone actually wants to read my words, I’d like to turn this into a regular thing. I think I’ll leave Sally’s follow-up questions for another time, as this mental meandering has already flowed on longer than initially intended.

My first experience with a “Working Girl” could well have been my last.

It was a hot summer in Hawkes Bay, and I had found the New Zealand Girls Website a few days before. After some cursory investigation, I made my choice. There was no picture, but the age of the lady and her Scandanavian sounding name swayed me. Well, I guess I was a little naive. I rang. She answered. A time was agreed.

The address was an easy ten minutes walk away, so ten minutes or so before the appointed time, off I went. I rang the bell and an attractive wonam answered. The exchange was made and I headed for the shower. The house was very nice. It had a pleasent open plan feel and was light but cool.

I came back from the shower and entered the bedroom I had been shown into earlier. I watched as she removed her dress and underwear. Her body was trim, with small breasts and and she was neatly shaven.

Unlike later experinces, I felt a bit unsure about protocol and making sure my agenda was followed, so we basically just got down to it, in a number of positions, and hard work it was too. The heat of the day didn’t help, and the bedroom began to feel smaller and claustrophobic.

Eventually, the time was nearly up, so I returned to the shower, unsure who I felt more sorry for, myself or the poor lady I had been humping for nearly three quarters of an hour.

I showered and dressed and we said our goodbyes, then I went outside and had a heart attack right there stood on the front step.

Yep - my first experience of paid for sex, and my first heart attack all in the same hour (and five minutes).

I felt like shit. Pain in my chest and predominantly down my left hand arm. I stood still for a minute or so, and then started to walk away, slowly. I made it bach to my hotel and collapsed on the bed. The pain eased, but was still too intense to put up with, so I walked to the nearest pharmacy for pain killers and aspirin. Swallowing plenty of both, I slept for 4 hours, then swallowed some more. Repeat and then fell asleep, waking at lunch time, feeling much better.

I was hungry so I went and found some lunch, and rested again.

Monday, I went back to work.

I had a good idea what had happened to me, and a visit to the cardiologist confirmed it, so my first visit to a Working Girl, could have been my last.

I survived, and I’m here to tell the tale, so you would say I was lucky. Stupid but not ignorant, I would say.