Well, that is me fucked!

Well, that is me fucked!

Sweet divine mother of Jesus, I have had the stuffings shagged out of me! I have never worked in a country where men are this good looking and can fuck like experts. I mean seriously. My pussy is sore, not from rough treatment, but from climaxing so damn much. I have never in my entire working life had this many orgasms! It is getting to the point of, “not again!” is the battle cry as I climax yet again under the deft expert attention being paid to my bits; by yet another hot horny hunky Norwegian man. Hell, even the short fat ugly ones are fucking sex gods. Lord have his mercy, I think I can safely say I am shagged out! I have had my reserve tank of sexual wantoness tapped. Didn’t think it could happen, but there you go.

Then there is the personal dick. These are the ones I shag for fun. Yes, even with all the sex I am getting from work dick I will order in personal cock for some fun and games. The difference is the mind set. I can turn off Violette-watching-your-ass-incase-the-client-does-something-stupid-mode, and relax. And lord have his mercy, these boys are just talented. I have had three encounters with three luscious hunks, and all three have exceeded this pro girls expectations of what the average civie man has to offer. Civie men can, unfortunately be less than interesting in bed, sorry lads, but some are lacking in so many areas. Technique doesn’t begin to enter the question, you have to get past looks, fitness or the lack of, experience, and a host of other issues. So to encounter three different men with techniques, I can attest to being well above par, in the space of a long weekend. Is in my estimation a minor miracle. Yes, I shagged them over to 3-day weekend in between working! Hey, what can I say, I can juggle like no other.

So, I will lament my lovely Vikings, and hurry back to the arms of Thor and his cohorts as soon as I am back from vacation. Hell, I need the rest!

WTF? WAS I, THINKING.

WTF? WAS I, THINKING.

Obviously I wasn’t thinking, and that is why I ended up in what can only be described as a fucking mess! Yup that is right, me the self professed queen of singledom, singlehood, singleness! Whatever the damn word. Found herself falling in love! Sweet Jesus, it came out of left field and hit me so damn hard I was stunned by the brilliance and the purity of such a rare feeling. I had forgotten how wonderful falling in love is. But I don’t fall in love, I get hit by a freight train, rendered speechless and dumb. Left clutching the tattered remnants of myself, and wondering why I can’t stop thinking about a certain set of gorgeous eyes. Now if humans could just get stuck in this blissful state we would be ok. But noooooo, we have to be human and do something to fuck things up.

And I have a sensitive bullshit meter. Meaning I will not allow myself to be mislead by words, actions speak louder for me. I am hearing the words, but the actions are often more compelling and usually a true indication of the real state of affairs. Well, lets say, I managed to salvage things before they reached critical mass. Translation, I realised what a total flake he was and decided to no longer invest my time or energy in someone who couldn’t appreciate what he had. I feel like a Bond martini, shaken but not stirred. All I can say, is I think I just saved my self a few years of realising that I would have been wasting my time. Better know it now than later.

Thank god. So now I can return to my delightfully rational self. A good DOM session anyone? Queue evil laugh.

Love

Love

OMG, yes Valentines day is almost upon us again and the stores are littered with red hearts(I like those), and soppy cards(waste of trees). Love is in the air, love songs playing on the radio, couple cooing into each others ears. I feel like going postal!

This isn’t your average rhapsodizing eulogy to the subject of love. No, ‘how do I love thee, let me count the ways’ crap here. This is in essence a love heretic’s view on one of the most discussed subjects. Instead of reading books to learn how to fall in love, I am reading books on how to reverse engineer falling in love. Meaning learning what makes it happen, to avoid it happening to me ever again.

I think somewhere along the way my love bone was amputated. Because the older and more set in my ways I get, I am realizing that the last thing I want or need in my life is to fall in love. Shock, horror, cue the dirge.

Yup I have dared to say out loud, what I am sure loads of people feel, I Hate Being in Love! Natures way of making you think that the idiot you are with is the one, simply to cause you to screw like rabbits and produce future idiots. Because as soon as your brain clears, and you wake up from the phenylethylamine induced haze it has been under. The fun begins. First comes the realization that this man/woman irritates the hell out of you, next comes the-how the fuck am I here with him/her? You then starting asking your friends to retell the story of your meeting this person, because you have to hear for yourself how the hell you ended up here, several years down the road with your once well planned life in shatters.

Then of course because you have committed to the relationship, you compound the problem by involving children, family, more children , the odd pet, a few assets, and before you know it 20 years and 30 pounds later, you are stuck in a shitty relationship, when all you really wanted was a naughty weekend and a shag. By now it is too late to leave, so you have the rest of your life to look forward to involving more family, now grandchildren in the drama, and the time drags on. Sweet mother of god, fucking shoot me now!

25 years of marriage to the same person, is in my opinion a failure on the part of both parties to grow as human beings. Sorry to all those married for that long, soul search and you will find the kernel of truth in what I am saying. The idea of waking up next to the same person for the rest of my life is tantamount to hell on earth for me. The same face, same stupid jokes, the same stilted one-sided opinions about the same shit. Jesus H. Christ, where is the nearest set of train tracks?

Seriously let’s look at the symptoms of falling in love. Disorientation(schizophrenics, psychotics, delusionals suffer from this), a strong desire to be around the object of affection(stalkers, erotomanics, groupies), can’t stop fantasizing about OOA(OCD, delusionals, bipolars, psychopaths), starts to write bad poetry or songs to various body parts (bad poets are idiots in general). Wanting to spend every waking hour in your beloved arms(delusional, OCD, unrealistic). The bloody list of symptoms goes on and on.

We as a society encourage this type of behavior, write songs and numerous poems, sonnets, and soliloquies about it. Encourage our offspring to pursue it. You wouldn’t tell a psychotic person to go on, go out and fulfill your dream, axe murder your neighbors it will bring you closer to your true self? But we tell young people and old for that matter, to drop their lives in order to chase after the one they love? What utter lunacy! I think all in love people should be locked up until they come to their senses, they do eventually.

Personally I think in terms of benefit, men benefit more from being in love, it focuses them, gives them a reason d’être, stops them from running around hitting other men on the head, and so forth. They get fed regular, are generally kept cleaner than when single. Over all a good thing for society.

Now for women, I think it is detrimental, nothing will ruin a perfectly good working girl faster than falling in love. Seriously, the first thing she wants to do is spend more time with her new guy! Which means she loses the desire to work, and her income gets affected. Now when the new love becomes that bastard from hell who broke her heart, she realizes she is broke financially and must return to work. May have compounded her problem with a child or 2 and the list goes on ad infinitum. Not to mention all the wasted time, she could have been better working on contributing to her life in a good way.

Yeah I know what is coming next about, having someone there to lean on when things are tough, I find I am better at dealing with problems on my own and finding my own solutions without the input from a partner. They get in the way more, but then again I am a different sort of female, I don’t really play by the rules.

Now this doesn’t mean I am incapable of love, oh far from it. I can and do love deeply, what I dislike is falling in love, and all the associated idiocy that seems to attach itself to it. Some of the best sex I have had is in love sex. I mean good poem writing stuff, but it doesn’t always translate into marriage for life stuff. Vast difference.

The Casual Observations of an Escort.

The Casual Observations of an Escort.

My name is Violette, I am an international escort, I often tour around to different countries plying my trade and hopefully bringing a bit of joy to some lives. Along the way, one can’t help but notice things about places and people.

For instance, in Holland, they all ride bikes, soft drugs are legal, prostitution is also legal, but the cost is quite low. Ireland, drinking is a national past time, and sport, every town has a church named after St. Patrick, and the accents can vary from neighborhood to neighborhood, let alone from town to town. France, the food, the fashion, and the form-the French love form for its own sake, which makes for fantastic shop windows, but interesting politics. Italy, food, mama, food, architecture, art, food, fashion, and food. I love the Italians, they are fantastic to watch arguing. England, the upper lip isn’t the only thing that is stiff with this bunch.
But just as the food, language, and styles are different so is their approach to escorting.

The Dutch, past masters at organizing and middlemanship, have managed to remove all the forbidden fruit aspect to the whole thing and turned it into a business. Right down to having an information center where ladies can go and get questions answered to various and sundry queries. Making it legal, so they can tax the hell out of it. Fantastic I just love this approach, it is rather refreshing to say the least.

The Irish, this is a mixed brew, I have lately been spending a large amout of time here, and so far this is one of the few groups who have managed to be accepting and conflicted about the whole idea all at once. There are websites dedicated to allowing the ladies and gentlemen to come together and interact rather openly. Then there will be documentries condeming the practice and highlighting how sad and desperate the women are(utter nonsense), and how enslaved the men are(also utter bollocks). Not to mention the polices’ (called Garda) reaction, it is illegal, but an independent lady can file a complaint, just as long as she is independent. Right! There are some seriously conflicted inner working happening in Ireland. But with that said, they are a delightfully funny people, full of fun.

The French, a complicated lot, but when it comes to the subject of sex, and especially forbidden sex, oh dear how they have managed to make being naughty so much fun. As long as you dress it up in a package other that what it is, and add that glamourous hint of fashion to it, it is amazing with what you can get away with. Glamour and a serious attention to artifice is called for.

The Italians, lots of frustration and conflicts here, which leads to the very Macho attitude I have encountered. Let’s say they excel way more at food.

The English, where does one begin, a wide spectrum of attitudes here, anything from ‘who cares’ to NIMBYism. Some frustration, but when you encounter one that is well balanced and into what they want, it is rather a refreshing thing to find.

But these general personal observations are about the men, I am encountering in my various travels, which got me thinking about the other half of the equation-the women. Some of my clients are in relationships and some are not, I will often ask if they are married or not, just for curiosity; but after awhile a pattern started to emerge. I started to notice when given the slightest opportunity, gentlemen will open up and start to talk about the relationship they are in, and the sex they are not having. Not to put too fine a point on things, but I wouldn’t use some of my clients name in the same sentence with Cassonova! But that being said, the general compliant is that the lady wife tends to like the usual routine of missionary. But when given the options, of doggy, cowgirl, ballerina(that is being a bit more acrobatic), or missionary, 8 our of 10 will choose the missionary! Now I have to ask the question, is it the lady or the man who prefers this position? Chicken or Egg?