Fuckin Fantasies

Hello, everyone! Holy shit! Can you believe it? Well, here I am. Again. I can’t believe this is actually the third post I’ve made in the past seven days. I’ve set a few small goals, and it looks like I’m beginning to, actually, reach them. Yay for me.

I can honestly say that, hands-down, the best part about my job as an escort has to be the residual effect it has on my sex life. (What the hell is she jabbing about now??)

I’m a people person. Y’all know this. I love people. I love talking to people. I love picking the brains of, just about, everyone I meet. I use this information to help me to form better opinions about why people act like people when they’re around people. Just kidding. (I couldn’t resist.)

You would think that someone who enjoys meeting new people as much as I do would never get uncomfortable or nervous with a first date. Oh, how I wish that were true. Actually, usually, it is pretty true.

However, there are those times that it is apparent, almost immediately, that I have made some, kind of, a mistake, because the fella standing on the other side of my door and I are as mismatched as Hulk Hogan and Honey Boo Boo.

My whole 2017 “going with my gut” ideology has worked out pretty fuckin well, so far, but nothing is foolproof. Every now and then, I get a straggler of a date. Someone who is as different from me as one could get.

There’s no chemistry. There’s no attraction. And at this point, there’s not likely to be very good communication. Overall, there’s just nothing there.

If you think that I’m fixing to tell this fella that he has to go home, you’ve lost your damn mind. I didn’t get all gussied up for nothing. I’m here to hit on this man. Of course, at this point, I’m, probably, not holding out the highest of hopes when it cums to securing a second date, either.

How about if you look at it this way?? When you find that your enthusiasm has waned and your interest has turned, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little pick-me-up? Trust me, it is. Want to know how I change the mood from “wah,  wah” to “woo, hoo” ??

I dig down deep… Deep, deep down… Way down… Oh, so deep.

There’s a Cavern locked up so deep within my subconscious,  and it’s full, wall to wall, just, stuffed to overflowing with delicious honey flavored memories of previously experienced ecstasy. Here, I have stored orgasm upon orgasm, and they’re all splattered with a free-for-all worth of squirt. (Lol. I told you, I truly can’t help myself.)

It only takes one juicy little memory of pleasure fulfilled… Perhaps, a vision of a frightened little newbie after I’ve tied him to my bed… Or, just a simple flashback of several hours on end with my pink fleshy, pulsating wand, placed right between my clit and G-spot.

It doesn’t matter which memory I choose. These are all capable of serving the same purpose. By replaying the events of a better date, I begin to relive the excitement, as well. My body tunes in to the previously recorded frequency and feeds from this main line of sensation until my present form has finally acclimated to the same excitement.

Yes. In simpler terms, I just fantasize. Hey. Don’t fault me for it. Sometimes I do it, quite simply, because it, actually, works.

Here’s the interesting part. It doesn’t matter how I get my engine revved up, crossing ANY finish line still feels fuckin excellent. Never, once, have I questioned how the fuck I got there.

You can’t fake attraction. You, certainly, can’t force it. But, you CAN give it a little kick start, every, once in awhile.

My friendly advice for today:

Never waste another minute of your life worrying about what others think of you. If they wanted you to know, they’d tell you.

(True story!)


3 Replies to “Fuckin Fantasies”

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