Yesterday, out of sheer boredom and despair, I decided to reactivate my AdultWork profile. But it had remained inactive for too long, and so had been permanently deleted! How tragic! Nevertheless, I persevered, and created a new one – vaguely similar, but with different photos. A couple of hours later, I received this angry message:
“Have you got something to tell me young lady.,. You know I would recognise you picture anywhere?”
It was the Anal Rapist, of course. Naturally, I asked him what he was doing trawling through the escort profiles on AdultWork. Ha! Way to turn the tables on him! But he instantly replied that he was looking for a girl to fuck me with a strap-on. And it’s true, he had already told me he was planning to arrange this, as a little birthday “surprise” for me. So I was totally shamed and sheepish.
What followed next was a long lecture about the evils of AdultWork (from a guy who has fucked over 140 whores within the last few years alone – I know, I know, one should never count, but still) and how I should really re-think this decision, and what it’s done to him, and how he’s going to thrash me until I’m crying and begging for mercy if I don’t. Then he started quoting Yeats to me, and asking me how I really feel about us. This was all getting so heavy and depressing. I decided to surf around on AdultWork a bit to lift my spirits. And, what do you know? I had received 8 messages. The first was from a guy whom I remembered at once as a shameless Timewaster. The second was from this unapologetic Bareback Chancer. The third was from a fellow escort recommending the services of a professional photographer and the fourth was from a professional photographer recommending himself. By this point, I really was starting to re-think my decision. Clearly, I have been exhibiting some kind of selective memory regarding my brief stint as an escort, in which everyone I met was perfectly lovely and everything I did was just so hot and exciting and there was never anything at all aggravating or unpleasant about it.
Anyway, I scrolled down. The next four messages were all along the lines of “hey hun u free tonite”. And then there was this:
I read your profile with interest.
If you would like to try what I expect, I am looking arrange a booking initially for two hours, maybe more.
I am looking for you to willingly submit yourself to me and obey all of my wishes or demands. I would like to dominate you, and to own you during our time together.
I want to inspect your mouth, pussy and ass, then take your ass till I cum in it (protected). Afterwards I expect my cock to be cleaned and hard in your mouth. You will then lay on my lap and I will spank you until I am pleased with the colour of your ass and your screams; I am also planning to use the toys you have to punish you, and to double penetrate you. Then I will have you suck my cock while you are on your hands and knees; fuck your face, put it deep in your throat and cum directly into your throat. You may have a break after then, though I want you to be available to me all times. Whenever I want, I want to bend you over, fuck you, fist you, piss on you, explore your insides, maul your ass and tits or spank you; and make you rim me. I want you to crawl on the floor, naked or with some clothing, beg me to fuck you, and to talk dirty to me, humiliate yourself with your own words.
I like rough sex, spanking your tits, nipples and pussy, and expect that anything under your skirt may be ripped. I will see your total submission to me, then I will fuck you and treat you like a bitch in heat.
I am a respectful person, but this is something I enjoy to have with someone equally interested.
As the dress goes, I like sheer, thin tights (or small fishnet) on a woman; to rip off the tights to have my way is more exciting (or an easy access to your orifices). You can wear sexy knickers underneath; however anything that you put on underneath your skirt may be ripped. I would expect you to wear a short skirt (not a wrap) and a tight crop top that wraps around your breasts. I want to see those nipples sticking out from the fabric. I like the idea of hair pulling while having sex. You can apply slutty make up, but no perfumes.
What do you think of my expectations? Are you interested?
Let me know please, and any questions you may have about me.
Also let me know your height, dress size and bust size.
I am willing to pay £200 for two hour meeting.
Not bad, eh? In fact, the Edge actually suggested that the guy may have found and read my blog, as his message seems practically tailor-made for me. It does, doesn’t it? I was, of course, hugely turned on while reading it. But I also felt a certain degree of trepidation. I actually can’t imagine doing all these things with a total stranger. I remember my first time with Alcibiades, who had discussed many of the same things with me. But, when we actually met in real life, I realised that it was not so easy to muster up this degree of intensity with someone I barely knew.
The funny thing is, though, that when I read this guy’s reviews, they all mentioned things like “sweet, gentle guy” and “pleasant, relaxing time”. Which sounds like the exact opposite of what he described. And indeed, when I wrote back to express my preliminary interest, his reply was full of timorous smileys. He also promptly agreed to meet me at a London hotel (of course, I said I’d pay for it) to save me the trek out to his home in the Middle of Nowhere. Which is probably safer for me too, come to think of it.
But the real reason I’m blogging about this is not all that random rubbish, but the message I received this morning, from none other than… The Guy Formerly Known As Cherry Popper. At first, I was mildly amused. But then I began to feel somewhat agitated. I used to be nuts about that guy, after all. I checked his reviews to see whom he’d been frequenting, but it was almost an afterthought – I didn’t care about that. So then what was it? His failure to recognise me? But I’d deliberately chosen photos which I felt would not betray me.
I hit upon it eventually. It’s the fact that he’s so willing to fuck this anonymous doppelgänger of me… and yet not me.
I did something very uncharacteristic, then – very indiscreet. I wrote back! Just a melodramatic little line to let him know that he has crushed me utterly. And then I quickly changed my notification settings so that the lack of them won’t mean he hasn’t written back.
But I think I’m hoping that he doesn’t write back. After all, what can he say? I wouldn’t want him to offer me a pity fuck. Or to write back and not offer me one?!
I haven’t had the courage to check. But I can’t avoid my inbox forever. After all, I still need to confirm my date with E…