You know, I’m no different than any of you. When I see a new review drop on Eccie, or anywhere else, for that matter… I’m ALL OVER IT. I, just, love to see girls get good reviews!
Lots of sites allow the full review to be read by anyone. Unfortunately, that is not the policy at Eccie. You must be a premium member to read reviews in their entirety, dirty deads and all.
As a provider, you can NEVER, EVER, read the ROS (rest of story) on there. Only the most, basic details are available to us. Even our very, own reviews are visible, only, up until the body description. If you’re female (well, most females), the rest is, just, a mystery.
Still, I get a bit excited. Of course, not every review is good, but, we, actually, have some wonderful providers on Eccie, so, thankfully, most are, usually, pretty positive.
I wasn’t with them very long when I began pickin up on differences between me and, most, of the other escorts I advertised alongside. In fact, too many differences to, really, count.
However, one of the most common things that seemed to cum out in the body description of, just, about, all the reviews, no matter, the female it was written about was…
This is great! You’re hangin on my every word, because, even, you are aware the many differences that exist amongst the females who choose this environment as their workplace.
Now, I’m, certainly, one of the older girls (btw: my B-Day is later this month, friends), so, differences are to be expected. (Notice, I said “older” rather than “more mature”. Yup. I’m kinda still workin on the ‘maturing’ part.)
I hate to have strung you along, oh, so, deliciously, but it’s, most likely, nothing like you’re picturing so, vividly, right now, anyway. Hey. I’m guessing.
What, always, stuck out, most, to me were descriptions that would go on and on AND ON about how pretty their provider’s hair was and how long, manicured, and brightly polished their fingernails were. Oh! And, how they were made up for a night on the town, sexy dress and heels, and, how all of that made it, just, that much, more exciting for them.
Stop right there… please. Number #1… Hair and nails and dressed to go out?? Well, Jesus! What the fuck for??
Sure. I go out to dinner with guys all the time. In fact, I don’t even charge them for the dinner date, as long as they pick up the tab. (Don’t worry. Lobster isn’t, really, my thang, fellas.) It’s a wonderful way of getting to know someone in an amazing atmosphere with fuckin KILLER FOOD. A win-win, in my opinion.
I’m not positive, but, I don’t, believe, another provider, in our area, provides that service for free. Although, I’m, sure, dinners happen. So, really? Just, what is it they’re getting all decked out for??
Truthfully. What they would wear didn’t, really, bother me, so, much. The fact that I wear negligees and lingerie and cute, lil, dress-up outfits doesn’t mean that what they’re doing is any different than what I’m doing.
You see… You dress the part. I like feelin classy and confident, sexy and sinful. Maybe they dress to play a different part. (Wife cums to mind.)
My bad. That was, completely, uncalled for. I am, merely, speculating. Does make you wonder, though. Doesn’t it??
Look. I dress skimpily, because I don’t plan on being dressed very, fuckin, long. I use my outfits to entice a man into taking those, very, same, outfits, right on, off me.
Dressin to go out on the town, just, never, even, occurred to me, because I’m much, more concerned with stayin in. Hence, my see-through, date attire.
To each their own. The common phrase, “dress to impress” cums to mind. Perhaps, that’s what my fellow escorts are, actually, doing.
I just wear whatever makes me feel good. I guess exposing myself does that for ME. Who knew??
Like, I mentioned, though. Their garments bother me not. It’s those beauty shop nails that I’m referring to. Those long, pointy, things that require a stop at a shop, at least, twice a month to maintain, properly. Simply astonishing to me.
Darlin, I’m not goin to a nail salon, even, a couple of times a year, nevertheless, every, other week. Any nails I’ll, ever, have will be done at home… My home. By myself. You can count on that.
Ladies? Seriously, though. How do you work at all when your fingers, more closely, resemble claws?? It’s a fair question, I think, because I’m very confused.
I, kinda, get the feelin that my confusion may have confused some of you. Well, do let me elaborate, because, dear friends o’ mine, we’ve, just, reached the juicy nectar at the core of this, here, paticular fruit.
Okay. So, I’ve known a, particular, gentleman, close to, 7 or 8 years, now. Correction. Just, because I consider him a friend does not make him, any less, of a client. But, you know how I feel about clients being my friends, so…
I think, I’ll call him Santa Claus, being that he cums adorned with a face full of snow white hair and an, oh, so, round belly. He might not be, all that, jolly, but… Hey. Even, St. Nick likes to get down, every, now and then.
Needless to say, his tastes have changed, greatly, over the years. He’s, always, been an, amazing, diner at my ‘ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET’. And, OFTEN, I might add.
When I first met him, he told me that, as a teenager, two lesbians taught him his, now, perfected, tongue tricks. A talent, so amazing, as to overcome his, complete, resemblence to the man I blame, to this very, day, for my Christmas in ’86, when I, hysterically, unwrapped the largest of computer boxes. Only, to find that it’s contents were, no more, than, that, of an, average, everyday, perfectly, ordinary, hairdryer. Thanks, again, Santa!
Truth is, I’ve, actually, heard similiar stories from, at least, half a dozen other gents, over the years. So, unless there was a gang of carpetmunchers spanning 3 or 4 decades that recruited “far too hot to be dikes” to prey in pairs on pupescent young men before their TIME… Where was I?
Oh, yes! There was, no doubt, that Sir Kringle possessed major skillz, and I’d, never, had any issues helping him to showcase that talent (by volunteering my snatch for his own amusement). Although, he, always, made sure to tend to MY NEEDS before his own. Personally, I think, he, truly, enjoyed that part best.
My way of returning the favor was a little more difficult. You see, Santa works hard all year long… I’m guessing. Far, far, too long to, ever, worry about trimming his nether region. He claims it’s because Misses Claus would, immediately, notice the diference, but, I have a strong feeling that she hasn’t traveled South in a very, very, long time.
Still. Santa DOES love his BJ’s. In fact, for years, it was his, only, requirement to get off. Oh… And, breakfast at my hairless snatch. Of course. (He, truly, loved that shit!)
Of course… Blowjobs are wonderful, and mine are, quite, assuredly, the very, best. But, over 7 or 8 years… Eh. I suggested upping the ante.
Cum on. After years of sexual exploration, it’s, almost, a given that you’ll, ANYONE, eventually, will delve into some unknown territory, and, should be expected. I’ve, never, thought bum exploration on men was a negative experience.
At least not for me. Hell. Y’all know my motto. “If it feels good, do it.”
So, we began with a lil prostate stimulation. (Hey. Don’t knock it till you try it.) Now, lickin his cute, lil bum was not something I, EVER, participated in, being that it, too, was covered in the longest and densest bush of solid, white fro I’ve, EVER, witnessed. But, just, playing with, in, and around his azz was never an issue.
For the very, first two or three years of our extra-curricular play, I was, quite, gentle with him. I would wet my finger, or fingers, and, just, encircle his anus, delicately. All the while, deliverin the dick lickin, I’m so, very, well known for.
And, for a long time, that was enough. But, like most things done habitualy, it became ordinary and mundane. Perhaps, even, a bit, for both of us.
Eventually, I began to introduce him to my pinkie and other digits. Slowly, progressing into small toys. I have a few that I’ve used, before, to reach my G spot, and they, seemed, quite, perfect for beginners, hell bent, on hind region exploration.
Anyway. He seemed to enjoy them. THOROUGHLY (I might add).
The one, good, thing about having a regular friend for so many years is that you can, truly, be yourself when they are around. Many times throughout our friendship, he’s called on me with very, lil notice, knowing I’d be, completely, honest about what I, already, had going on for that day.
Listen. Maybe it had, finally, begun to gnaw at me that, maybe, I WASN’T tryin, quite, hard enough to please the fellas who drove, so, far, to cum see me. I, certainly, did NOT intend on dressing UP in any way.
When I heard from my Santa Claus, this, one, particular, day, I was deep in concentration. Although, by that time, almost, finished, I’d spent the majority of the day, already, sculpting and polishing my, very, own acrylic nails. I must admit, they turned out pretty good.
Not, only, were they beautifully painted, now, they were, just, a bit, longer. Of course, not those stealthy, sharp, pointy things you, usually, see on the classier female escorts.
Nope. I settled for a much, more, sporty length. I found, very, quickly that any other size was, just, not conducive to house cleaning or dishwashing or typing. To keep from screamin everytime I jammed them on somethin, or other, I made, damn sure, they were a short, yet, classy, and respectable length.
By the time Santa reached my house, they were beautiful and sexy as hell. I showed them off to him, immediately, displaying them all splayed out in front of me at once, nestled against my chin in a thoughtful position, even, at my tits (because doesn’t everything look SO MUCH BETTER when in front of a pair of naked breasts?).
Immediately, he was going down on me, his tongue, quickly, melting away all nervous tension and stress with every flick of that lone, wet, appendage. Quite easily, he delivered to me the most delicious orgasms, causing my body to flail about and loud cries of pleasure to fill my entire home.
A few minutes later, I began to focus on showing him the most pleasure possible with my mouth and a toy of his own choosing. Mind you, it wouldn’t have been my particular, choice that day. Oh, we had used it before, but, it must be noted, that I was beginning to notice that the nails could be a big deterence in the fun.
Of course, he liked the little, purple, vibrating thang, and would have no other, this day. So, I began the intense licking and sucking that is my specialty, using the purple vibrator to stimulate him from within.
Santa has this trait that used to get me into the most embarrasing situations before I moved into my new home. You see, when he cums, Ole Saint Nick, always, screams my name as loud as possible.
The many years that I called a hotel my home, after he would visit me, I would, often, hear my neighbors calling out to me jovially just the same way, proving they were very aware that I’d been busy that morning. It was, only, slightly embarrassing (but, only, because I wasn’t fuckin any of those azzholes).
This time was no different. As he came, he let out the most vocal yell, my true name, screamed loud to the Gods, themselves. At that very same moment, his prostate bit down, hard, on the vibrator, then, quickly, snatched it from my glossy, tipped, fingers. I mean, completely, out of my hand, and pulled it further up inside until it was, totally, obscured from my site.
I just sat there astonished. Nothing like that has, ever, happened before. The toy I had, just, been using to stimulate his prostate had been ripped from my, very, fingers and taken up into his body beyond my site. I was, immediately, gripped by fear.
Of course, I attempted to retrieve it myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to it without the possibility of skimming his sensitive and thin anal walls with my new, sporty length, nails. The actions, of which, I knew could hurt him greatly.
He was overcome by the intensity of his orgasm, but, eventually, noticed my face. I must have looked terrified and just overwhelmed.
He asked me to remove it, and I tried to explain. I couldn’t see it, so, I knew that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go plundering his asshole with my tipped fingernails.
He didn’t understand. I tried to explain, again. “I need YOU to get it out. I could scratch you very, easily, and it could get infected because of the area that is in.” You must be very careful, there, and I didn’t think it was a good idea. I needed him to retrieve it himself.
Listen. Maybe you’re freakin out right now. Know this. It was just beyond my fingertips. Merely, centimeters from my grasp.
It was locked in, so, tightly that I would have had to delve in, not knowing where I was, and, just, pull. I didn’t think it was safe for him, so, I asked him, again, “please, remove it yourself”.
Little did I know, he’d never, even, been in there. Period. That shocked me.
You mean, you allow others to navigate that region of your body, and you don’t, even, know what it looks like mapped out, yourself? Did he never feel the need to touch himself in that way?
The issue here was that it needed to cum out. He began hyperventilating and getting upset, so I joined him. Of course, we were on different wavelengths.
He was trippin, because he has, quite, a bit, of family and a very, important job, and could, only, envision an ER with everyone he knew finding out what had just happened between us.
I, however, was more concerned about his well-being. He was already a complete mess and, absolutely, unable to touch anywhere near his own azz. He wouldn’t, even, try to listen to any of my suggestions, at all.
My suggestion was to eat some of the leftover vanilla ice cream in my fridge and watch a little Law and Order. You see, things aren’t meant to go in your azz. They are meant to cum out. Therefore, relaxation, in my opinion, would do, just, the trick.
I melted down, hysterically, beggin him to return, as he walked away… Vibrating the entire way to his car. I’m sure, most, of you find that funny. It was, in no way, amusing to me, and, certainly, not to him.
About 20 minutes later, I raised my head from between my hands, where I, still, sat crying, to answer a phone call from him. He explained, he had been riding down the road to his home and passed a Whataburger. As he noticed the two for one special on their billboard, the lil, devilish, purple, monstrosity slipped out and into his underwear.
Of course, I was happy for him, but the damage was done. I felt guilty and ashamed. I looked at my hands and the beautifully, polished nails that made them so, much, more, feminine and dainty… And dangerous. I, immediately, took them off, never, intending to see them, again.
So, how do they do it?? I couldn’t. And, now, I know, for a fact, nails aren’t very, beneficial when it cums to playin. In fact, their an, absolute, nuisance.
All I’m saying is, if you like your butt played with, perhaps, ladies sportin these beautiful appendages should NOT be your first choice. And, my question is, how have you had those, particular, needs met by, such, women before??
Okay. Maybe, it’s just me. Clawing around inside of a man’s asshole is dangerous business for him. Truthfully, it’s dangerous for ANYONE!
The skin in your azzhole is thin and very tender and, extremely, susceptible to diseases of all types. If you have long nails, this is an area you should not traverse.
Hey. But, that’s just me. And, y’all know me. I don’t fake shit.
Word of advice… If you’re looking to fuck yourself, hookers with nails are the way to go. But, if you’re looking for something kinky, where the girl can, actually, participate…