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To you and me, being an escort involves having some basic knowledge of how to stuff vagina with penis and take money. This is the basic knowledge held by most sentient, sexual beings and a handful of musicians.  But realistically, an escort has to have a number of other skills, talents and considerations in her back pocket on any given day in order to manage herself and her business.

For instance, while it seems easy enough for a woman to place a classified ad in the back of the local fisting magazine published by some random Lutheran Church, wait for someone to call and paint their nails, what happens if the man who finally does call is blind?  Or in a wheelchair?

As it happens, a number of disabled dudes like to take a plunge into the squish mitten as often as the rest of us, they just require some additional considerations. An escort who wants to be able to cater to any client needs to be able to address these considerations should they pop up. Even the simple matter of meeting the client now requires planning, from how he’s going to get there to ensuring he uses Vaseline instead of just jamming his hand in the toilet before he tries fisting.

The challenges presented by a disabled client can be as simple as making sure that you have a dish of water out for a guide dog to ensuring that the ramp that leads to a bottomless pit is closed off when your wheelchair bound client arrives.

Other small, simple considerations are undoubtedly taken for granted by the common man. Generally escorts use a fake name to do their business as you may remember Mildred Dundermire from highschool but Vixxxen L’Amore is just a chick with a name that sounds like you should fuck it. If you’ve ever endeavoured to come up with a name in a video game or a really kick ass e-mail address that isn’t something lame like your own name with the number 69 tacked on to it, then you know creating the perfect fake name isn’t all that easy.

Knowing how to sell yourself without seeming like you’re an entirely fake person is another big concern any escort is going to face. What kind of escort are you, after all? Obviously, for most girls, a willingness to fuck for money is at the forefront of their decision to get intot his line of work, but where do you go from there? Do you offer BBBJ? Russian? Greek? Are you willing to dress like Batman and fuck on a rooftop? 

An escort may not realize she can make a decent living just by stepping on nutsacks in high heeled vinyl boots until enough guys offer her money to do it, so settling on the services you’re going to offer is a bit of a challenge that, at first, seems like it should be incredibly easy. Likewise, while a woman may enjoy being on the receiving end of some DATY usually, if she’s had an afternoon with a cabbie who has 5 day old stubble that chafes like a 200 degree cheese grater, she may change her mind in the future.

Even the simple business end of the job can be a subtle challenge. In this industry more than any other, the discussion of money is definitely a sensitive issue. Some women, especially newer girls, may not feel comfortable discussing the financial end of things in a straightforward manner. If you’ve ever been to a flea market and tried to buy what you thought was an original Picasso of a man who smells like cured meats and dried semen you may already be aware that establishing exactly what you’ll be getting for exactly what price right off the bat is always the best idea, lest someone get short changed or “fucked” as the kids say.

Doubtless there are a hundred other little things any escort has to consider at some point that the rest of us have never even thought of. At the end of the day though, as long as you manage to get off that’s probably all you need to worry about.

Some folks may take a stand that paying for sex is shameful and wrong and that if you really need to get off, why not get a girlfriend or wife or overly friendly cousin. Truth be told, sometimes an escort is just easier. Less baggage, less work, less feelings of warmth ad attachment that some of us just can’t deal with. And there’s also the service factor that needs to be considered. A professional is apt to do some things that your highschool sweet heart isn’t. That isn’t to say your highschool sweetheart isn’t a dirty girl who will not agree to anal fisting on a ferris wheel, I’m just making a crude generalization for the time being. That said, let’s ponder some reactions across the provider/ significant other divide to certain proposals you may bring up in the heat of passion one day.

SO: Totally up in the air on this one. 30 years ago you would have been sleeping on the couch for the rest of your dismal marriage if you proposed a threesome to most women, these days, who knows. Still, there’s a chance your wife or girlfriend will look at you like the perv you are and tell you just to fuck yourself.

Provider: How much money do you have? Many providers make a point of specifying on their personal websites the names of girls they’re willing to double team you with, just so long as you can afford it.  As an added bonus you save money on food by not cooking breakfast for three the next morning and you won’t have that heinous wait to get 2 ladies out of your bathroom.

SO: If you honestly propose this you may get slapped. If you attempt it without asking, don’t be surprised if you get a curling iron jammed in your as sin your sleep, or something equally unwholesome.

Provider: Dangerous ground here. You may offend her, which isn’t so bad, but she may go for it. And if she goes for this, what else has she gone for in the past? Do you really want to lay the Stinky Hitler on a woman who’s actually cool with it? And while I’m asking, why would you want to do this anyway?

SO: If she’s the adventurous type, this may work wonders. Lots of ladies enjoy this fantasy, although in their heads you’re somewhere romantic like a beach at dusk or a misty meadow rather than pressed against the dumpster behind a Wal Mart.

Provider: A lot of girls will only work the incall/outcall scenario, meaning a fixed address of some kind. A girl o the street may be fine with staying on the street, of course, but you may find an audience of diseased rats and hobos somewhat less than sexy.

SO: It’s a sad fact that in this day and age, some women still aren’t down with bum love due to whatever bizarre tales they’ve heard about it being gross or painful or whatever. Sometimes they’ve just had a bad experience in the past with some Speed Racer jamming it home sans lube and causing more pain than is necessary. As such, it’s likely to only work on a case by case basis. You may never have anal, it all depends. 

Provider: Greek is a wonderful and fluently spoken language known by many a full service provider. Huzzah!

SO: Thanks to porn, we’re living in the midst of a generation of men who are pretty convinced they can’t actually finish sex unless they blow it across a woman’s face when they’re done. Somewhat of an upside, a lot of younger women also hold this to be true. Unfortunately, to some women this is tantamount to asking if you can puke in their dinner.

Provider: Curiously, your mileage may vary on this bad boy. Even amongst the ladies for have sex for a living, getting someone to spooge all over you is apparently an acquired taste. Still, the odds may favour the provider on this once as an extra $10 can convince some ladies to do just about anything.

Amazingly enough, the idea of taking legitimate massage one step further has sprung up across the globe and not just here at home. Therapeutic massage can trace its roots back thousands of years and it’s likely that the same week therapeutic massage was invented, the rub n tug was invented as well when one industrious cavewoman realized she could get more mastodon chips if she rubbed one out for Og than if she just eased the knots out of his shoulders.

Throughout Africa, brothels that cal themselves massage parlors have been opening with greater and greater frequency in recent years. One of the upsides is that a legit massage is going to set you back $25, where a full service treatment is going to hit you for only twice that. Rarely can you find a place where the difference between rubbing someone’s shoulders and feeling part of their body inside you is so small.

Our friends down under in Australia and New Zealand live the fortunate life of people in a prostitution legal zone, thus making the prevalence of massage parlors as stunning and remarkable as the presence of an Arby’s, only less messy and likely to give you a disease. Fortunately, when sexual services are legalized it means provider have to go above and beyond to entice you to go to their establishment over anyone else’s. We assume this means you get a free koala with each handjob if you go to a parlor in Brisbane.

In Manchester, famous for its soccer hooligans and probably something like tea or fish and chips or buggery, somewhere in the neighbourhood of 100 massage parlors can be found advertising their wares in magazines, bus shelters, online or scribbled on the faces of drunken English hobos. Apparently the parlor sin town are generally overlooked by police who have taken a firm “out of sight out of mind” stance on prostitution and focus their efforts on street prostitution rather than any wang pulling that may be occurring under the guise of a Swedish massage.

Up in the Great White North, you’ll find yourself face to face with both massage therapists and body rub parlors, the semantic difference between an actual round of deep tissue massage and getting your willy played with by a girl who couldn’t identify a single muscle group in your body if her life depended on it. This makes it a lot easier for the casual hand job enthusiast to know what business to approach, however, as if you head to a body rub parlor you’ll be well aware of what manner of sin you’re getting in to.

Further south, down Mexico way, it’s almost surprising they both with the pretence of calling any establishment a massage parlor when they’re located in the same districts as most brothels, though some can be found in private residences. To be fair, you can still get a massage if you like at these places, but if you’re more interested in bang for your buck, so to speak, you can just forgo the massage and get to the humping.  That’s the way God intended.

Since prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, it stands to reason a fair number of our oldest jokes pay homage to this time honoured profession. Jokes even funnier than one’s about farmer’s daughters and the Pope in a rubber dinghy together.

The added bonus of a joke about a hooker is that it’s pretty much the perfect ice breaker for when meeting an escort for the first time, or business meetings, drab funerals, rare occasions when you’re trapped in an elevator with strangers or when on trial. There really isn’t a bad time to make a joke about a prostitute. If you doubt that, feel free to try some of these at your next Bris.

Two hookers were standing on a street corner ready for a night of business.

"It's gonna be a good night tonight, I can tell" says he first girl.

"How can you tell?" says the other.

"I can smell cock in the air"

"Sorry," her friend replies, "I just burped."

This guy is walking down the street and passes a hooker who says "Say, wanna have a good time?"

"Sure," he says and takes her to the nearest motel.

She gets naked and sits on the bed, legs spread, looking as sexy as she can and he keeps staring at her. Finally she gets annoyed and says, "Is this the first pussy you seen since you crawled out of one?"

The guy shakes his head and says, "Nope, just the first one I've seen big enough to crawl back into."

Two dwarfs go into a bar, where they pick up two prostitutes and take them to their separate hotel rooms.

The first dwarf, however, is unable to get a stiffy. His depression is enhanced by the fact that, from the next room, he hears cries of, "ONE, TWO, THREE UNGH," all night long.

In the morning, the second dwarf asks the first, "How did it go?"

The first whispered back, "It was so embarrassing. I just couldn't get a hard on."

The second dwarf shook his head. "You think that's embarrassing?" he asks, "I couldn't even get on the bed."

As the young couple prepare to go to bed on their wedding night, the groom says to his bride, "Honey, I have a confession to make. I'm a golf addict. I play whenever I have a minute. I can't get enough of it.  You'll probably never see me on the weekends."

His bride looked a little uneasy and then said, "Honey I have a confession also...I'm a hooker."

"No problem." Replied the groom, "Just keep your left arm straight and keep that head down. You'll be hitting them straight in no time."

A guy meets a hooker in a bar. She says, “This is your lucky night. I’ve got a special game for you. I’ll do absolutely anything you want for $300, as long as you can say it in three words.”

The guy replies, “Hey, why not?” He pull his wallet out of his pocket, and one at a time lays three hundred-dollar bills on the bar and says, slowly, “Paint my house.”

As you’ve no doubt noticed, these are all sure fire winners for pretty much any occasion and will likely grease the wheels towards discounts and extra special service withy our provider of choice should you bandy them about while she’s going down on you. And while she’s doing that, ponder the truth of this last one.

Because knowledge is power and preserving the written word is a solemn duty, someone, somewhere, has endeavoured to scan and post newspapers from the 1800’s on the internet for our enjoyment and enrichment. So now, if you’re wondering what might have been afoot in the news back in February of 1867, it’s only a quick Google search away. And if you’re expecting me to tell you, rather than leave it in your hands, then worry not.

As it happens, prostitution has been a favourite topic of newsmen since newsmen were born, or at least came of age to be interested in prostitutes. As such, stories like the one grippingly entitled “Report of the Sanitary committee on Prostitution” littered newspapers and kept our great grandparents’ rapt attention by feeding them seedy, illicit details on the nature of that curious creature; the harlot.

It seems that back in 1867, VD was about as rampant as shitty reality shows are today. Also it was as colourful as shitty reality shows of today are. For instance, people weren’t saddled with AIDS and hepatitis back then. Oh no, they had to deal with gleet and venereal bubo.

At this point you may be thinking “Ian, isn’t Venereal Bubo the name of that awful clown that came to my 11^th birthday party and shit himself before passing out in the punch bowl?” It’s entirely possible that the clown was named Venereal Bubo, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But it was also the name of a disease characterized by an enlarged gland in your groin which, apparently, prostitutes gave to a whopping 52 men in 1866, according to doctors at the New York Dispensary. 

Worse yet, according to the article, 22 women treated at the Jews Hospital (they really called it that, please don’t send me hate mail) had been infected by VD from their husbands who in turn, we’re to assume, got it from prostitutes. Around now you may be questioning the accuracy of any of these statistics, but hey, journalism back before anyone knew what a car was left something to be desired. For instance, the article goes on to let us know that, of soldiers inspected by their doctor, good old fashioned Americans only had an infection rate of 6.75% while the Irish were up to 6.8% and the Germans were dirty whore lovers coming in at 9.08% of nastiness.

Interestingly enough, the report goes on to make recommendations for the good people of the year 1867. And while you might expect that they’d recommend some backward shit like all hookers be stoned at the public square, they actually suggest that the city register all houses of prostitution and houses of assignation (which, if you’re not interested in looking up, is a house of prostitution as far as I can tell) and having all women be registered as well. If any girls are not registered, then it is the responsibility of the police to arrest them because they are operating illegally. Additionally, they recommend anyone from the profession requiring medical assistance be given it as freely as any other patient and go so far as to recommend a doctor specializing in the needs of prostitutes be made available.

In a nutshell, some random board of health review from over 100 years ago investigated prostitution in the city, took a look at the problems facing those involved, and recommended legalization and regulation for the benefit of all concerned. What an age we live in.

For the sake of argument, we’ll assume anyone interested in reading this information has now, in the past or plans to in the future a wife, girlfriend or some manner of female companion with whom you watch awful movies starring Sarah Jessica Parker and occasionally go shopping for throw rugs and dinette sets and other shit you don’t know much about. Aside from this particular woman, we’ll call her your significant other, you also have an avid interest in escorts. You like tang, but you are no astronaut. Maybe you’re a frequent hobbyist or maybe you’re into this for the first time, doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, for whatever reason, this hobby is no longer your secret.

Frequenting escorts and sharing said information with your significant other isn’t necessarily at the top of a lot of guys’ to do lists, but it’s not outside the realm of possibilities that such a scenario can occur. Perhaps you got caught, perhaps you came clean or perhaps you’re interested in seeing if you can work some magic with your significant other and a friend you pay to join in. If that’s the case, then what follows may be of interest.

Being an online comedy dynamo as I am, it’s no surprise I have an insane number of women at my beck and call. Translated into English that means I got about a dozen girls who were willing to help me out with a question and answer game of sorts. In a nutshell I asked 7 average women (some a little less average than others) between 23 and 35 how they would react to their boyfriend or husband approaching them about hiring an escort, and various related topics. Initially my pool was larger, however I did have to weed out a number of responses that amounted to little more than insane, cat-like shrieking and threats of castration. So be forewarned, as if it needed saying: not all women will take this topic lightly.

Anyway, of the girls willing to at least entertain the topic, some of the more noteworthy answers are as follows:

How would you react to your boyfriend/husband proposing a threesome?

• “I’ve done it before, I’d be OK with trying it again if we had a secure relationship.”
• “As long as he hadn’t been fucking her behind my back already or anything, we could talk about it.”
• “Is she hotter than me? If so, no. If she’s hot, but not too hot, then sure.”

• “An escort would be OK. We’d have to use protection and I’d want to help pick the right girl.”
• “He better not use my money.”
• “Is she clean? It’d have to be like a one time thing, and I’d want to go all out. Like crazy, nasty fucking. Hardcore, make it worth the money.”

• “She’s there for sex, so you could just sort of use her. I’ve always wanted to have another woman go down on me, I think that’d be an easy way. I’d be less nervous if I knew it was just a job for her. “
• “Because she’s an escort. She’s like a fuck machine, right? I wouldn’t have to talk to her at breakfast and be all weird.”
• “We could just fuck all night. You’re touching yourself right now, aren’t you Ian?”

What would be the best way for your boyfriend/husband to bring it up?

• “Just come out and say it, be honest.  I hate guys who play games, especially about something like this.”
• “During sex. You can say anything to me during sex and I’ll agree to it.”
• “We check out porn together online sometimes. If we went to a site with escort ads, he could try to be all sly about it there. If we’re already turned on, I’d probably check it out.”

Over the course of the several questions I asked, the general response from those who were into the idea was that being upfront about everything is the best plan. If you’re in a relationship where you can fantasize together and share stuff like that, it could be smooth sailing. However, based on the number of angry responses I got, you may want to be very, very sure of just what kind of relationship you have before you think of opening your mouth. Of course, you probably already knew that. Still, doesn’t hurt to know there are some girls out there who just might be willing to bend over a working girl with you.

We’ve spent a bit of time in the past discussing the insane sums of money some escorts manage to pull down in a day, and various other things that go down as it relates to an escort as well. Just to pick apart that terrible pun a bit more, I was referencing hummers. Weiner gobbling, as grandma used to call it.

Anyway, while it’s all fine and good to know what some ladies are making for a few hours of long, hard work, very rarely do we ever get a lot of insight into what the hell they do with all that money. Lucky for us then, Natalie McLennan, a retired high class escort, is dropping a book that takes the time to break down some of the ins and outs of what an escort does with her scratch.

To begin with, McLennan was making $1,200 an hour, which is the same rate internet sex bloggers charge for the same services (I don’t speak Greek, but I provide epic Russian). Of that 10% got shaved off the top for the booker, whoever that might be in a given circumstance and then of the remainder, 50% went to the agency while she kept the rest. Thus she was getting $540 an hour and working between six and eight hours per day, meaning her job kicks the shit out of your job and my job, even if she had to get facials on a regular basis, a humiliation rarely suffered by most of us. 

So what the hell does a person making in the neighbourhood of $10,000 a week do with all their money which likely isn’t being taxed all that heavily either? Here’s a few highlights:

• $1500 just sat in her purse at all times. You never know when you’re going to need to pick up some gum or a paper or a solid gold ice cream scoop or some shit like that. 
• $400 covered the cost of the 8-balls of coke she kept in her safe. She made some joke about buying bulk at like Costco at this point, meaning I have to forgo that joke in favour of a different one about how you’d figure she’d be sick of anything to do with the word blow after 8 hours of work, but apparently you’d be wrong.
• $1000 would cover a dinner out with some friends for an evening, because if you’re raking it in, you may as well give it all away as fast as you can. Incidentally, if your $1000 meal doesn’t come with a blowjob at the end at the very least, you’re at a really shitty restaurant.
• $2000 went to her mom’s credit card debt, which is kind of sweet and kind of the depressing sort of modern melodrama scene you’d expect to see in a movie directed by Wes Anderson. Daughter sells ass to pay off mom’s debt. Father suffers Alzheimer’s. Son was born with male and female reproductive organs. Dog humps legs. Starring Brad Pitt, Dustin Hoffman and Reese Witherspoon.
• $3500 a month went to rent. Presumably she lived in a place with en suite laundry and everything. Maybe even an honest-to-goodness sit down tub.
• $400 a month handled the phone. Here’s another good spot to make jokes about how she ever had time to talk on the phone if her mouth was full 8 hours a day, but that’s rather crass so I won’t bother.
• $500 a week went to manicures, pedicures, tanning and massages. No word on if this included happy endings.
• $100 a day was spent on cabs. That’s a serious fuckton of taxi rides and probably a dangerous amount of fake pine air freshener being inhaled.

So there you go, a brief glimpse into the world of what a high priced escort does with all that cash you throw her way. It doesn’t cover everything and presumably things like toilet brushes, deodorant and cat litter make up a chunk of the rest we weren’t told about.

If growing up taught you nothing else, it’s that boob are awesome. I will write that as many times as I need to. But that aside, you may have also learned that you fit into a crowd better if you know the lingo. Hence, in the past, we’ve gone over some escort terms to help you better understand what you may be getting yourself into when a girl says she’s willing to give you Greek but not receive it. But on a lesser known but equally important level, there are some terms specific to the strip clubs that may help you better navigate a night out or, at the very least, make you come across as the resident expert who clearly spends a pantload of time hanging out at clubs watching boobs sway back and forth. And if anyone tries to mock you for that, refer to the point I made back in the first sentence and be validated.

You may not need to know these terms to enjoy your time at the club, but if you plan on writing any blogs about it later on or spinning lingo circles around some other folks, commit these to memory and drop them whenever the situation dictates:

The Mercy Dance: Much as the name suggests, this is when you show up to a club on a Wednesday afternoon and see Edna on stage working her hardest to the soundtrack from Flashdance for the benefit of you, the bartender and one other customer who may be homeless or dead or both. So, feeling altruistic, you pay her for a dance just so she gets some take home pay for the day. Tread carefully with this one as, if you’re he only man with an open wallet in the vicinity, she may latch onto you like a vampire bat covered in snot.

Hurl Story: This may come from Edna if she gets you cornered. It’s the kind of stripper story designed to make you feel sympathy, empathy, guilt and a desire to hand over your bank card. In reality it’s so preposterous and poorly constructed you feel like emptying your stomach, not your accounts. May contain features such as a mother with cancer, being kicked out by a cheating boyfriend, or a hungry child.

RIL: The Regular in Love. Please don’t let this be you. This is the guy who buys roses for his favourite dancer, or drinks, or cars. It’s all fine and good if she’s sleeping with you, but chances are she’s just taking your shit. And probably shit from a half dozen other guys. Don’t do that to yourself, it’s humiliating for you and for all the rest of us who have to watch it.

The Blind Lap: This occurs when you haphazardly accept a lapdance from a dancder without any prior knowledge of her. Admittedly, this could work out great or, possibly, this could result in some chick spasming on your lap like an epileptic dog being forced to watch Pokemon. Best to watch her do her thing for someone else first before you decide to pay for anything.

Eclipse Dancer: This is a dancer who, like an eclipse, is best not directly viewed. Often these girls are hired for their bodies as opposed to any other aspect, be it personality of their heinous appearance. They work best in smoke filled rooms or from a distance after a few beers. Woe be to the man who gets a lapdance and dares view the eclipse head on.

Chrome Foam: The unfortunate coating of sweat and assorted other fluids that may become visible on the pole by the end of a night.  Be wary of the strippers who don’t towel off the pole before their performance.

HMS: The High Mileage Seat, aka Best Seat in the House. Depending on the club, there may be one or two seats that naturally fall right in the girl on stage’s line of sight at all times. If you sit here, she’s dancing for you.

Shill: Found in the seedier sections of the world, a shill is a guy hired by a downtrodden, ass swamp of a club to talk the place up and make it sound like it’s where the second coming is going to transpire. In reality, the club is likely where mankind will meet its doom and smells suspiciously of perogies and depression.

Mushrooms: The dudes who sit back in the shadows and just watch. No drinks or dances or conversation, they’re like mighty shitakes, just taking up space. Don’t be that guy, he’s creepy.

Strip Mining: The art of drifting from club to club in the hopes of finding that one stripper who will, in fact, go home with you. There’s no harm in this, just don’t expect it to pay off every time.

As any hobbyist knows, working girls, like burgers, come in many shapes and sizes and, most importantly, qualities. A street meat vendor isn’t going to serve you the same quality you’re going to find at your local In n Out burger and that is going to be substandard to whatever kind of fucked up Portobello Havarti surprise that Wolfgang puck will soak you $30 for. And with that in mind, you need to be able to react appropriately in certain situations depending on the kind of girl you’re with.  An upscale escort isn’t going to present you with the same situations as a soccer mom who rides the pole when the family is out for the day isn’t going to be the same as that girl with the lazy eye you pick up next to the bowling alley late on a Friday night.

Knowing what we know, there are a few common situations that may require different reactions from you as they have different meanings from the girl herself. Let’s lay out a few so you know the best course to take, shall we?

Upscale Escort: This kind of thing shouldn’t be happening at all. You may get upset if her phone rings during time you’re paying for, but try not to take it personally. Ideally she should turn the phone off and pay it no mind. She’s someone with a business after all and she probably just forgot to turn the ringer off before you showed up. No harm done, right? Back to humping

Soccer Mom: She didn’t turn her ringer off and may very well answer the phone. You can get crabby at this point, but realize it’s entirely possible her husband is calling from the office to see if she wants him to bring home some chicken. Alternately, it may be a call from school to let her know little Timmy just kicked another kid in the balls during a game of tag. At this point you need to clarify if you have time to get back to humping.

Bowling Alley Girl: It’s entirely possible it’s a dealer or a pimp on the phone. Alternately it’s a phone survey or her girlfriend letting her know how her manicure worked out earlier in the day. Expect delays in the humping. If she’s angrily conversing with someone named Ray-Ray on the other end, you may want to call it a night and leave as soon as possible.

Upscale Escort: This is poor timing and is inexcusable if it’s not your fault. If another dude is coming or going (so to speak) when you show up, that’s a mood killer. You don’t want this pricey fantasy ruined by images of your tackle swishing around in another dude’s pond scum. That’s creepy. If this ever occurs, you may want to reconsider even being with her as she’s clearly working herself a bit too hard. At the very least make sure she rubs a cloth over herself. Hopefully she’ll be extremely gracious about the whole situation and do her best to reassure you that this is not standard practice.

Soccer Mom: It’s not unheard of for these women next door type escorts who play in secret and go to the PTA meetings afterwards to be a little overzealous. You may notice a number of housewife websites littering the internet featuring gangbang after gangbang. This lady likes the bone, you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re left with the option now of pondering whether or not you want to take part in a little pro bono boning. If you can get a few guys together or film it, she may go for free, how bad could that be? Plus when your family sees it online, you can show them you really do work hard during the day.

Bowling Alley: If you pull up to the girl at the same time another potential client does, it could get ugly. Like coyotes fighting over a carcass, you don’t want to back down. On the other hand, you need to be discreet here too. Tread lightly, for all you know that other guy is a cop. Or worse, he’ll want to invite you along. That’s going to ensure you can’t get any sleep tonight at the very least, o send you into therapy.

Upscale Escort: So your bits weren’t working today, it happens. A lot of guys go through it; at least that’s what everyone says.  None of us are likely to ask our buddies any time soon to confirm this rumor and even if we did, honesty doesn’t seem to be the best course of action.   Still, no need to fret. Sure, you wasted an evening and some cash, but she’s probably seen much worse. She’s not going to judge you, so don’t be hard on yourself. So to speak.

Soccer Mom: This depends on professionalism. She may be comforting or she may rave like an insatiable cock whore about how you just ruined her evening. Be wary. And remember, even if you didn’t get it up, you’re talking to a woman who plays boners like a trained seal. Everything needs to be kept in perspective.

Bowling Alley: You may get bad mouthed for this and called every name in the book, but remember, this is your penis’ way of protecting you from something you and your brain couldn’t protect you from ahead of time. It’s just scared and trying to save you from a potential bout of crabs.   Stick with safe, clean girls, friend. It’s better for you and better for them.

In the world of escorts, with so many perfect, carbon-copy women out there offering the same services at the same prices, some women try to offer up something a little different for the client who isn’t satisfied by plain old pay-for-play vanilla sex with a relative stranger. And if you, as a man about town not satisfied with a simple blowjob but instead in the market to have your ass kicked by a lady in leather who will spit on you because you asked for it, where are you to turn? To the fetish escort.

A smaller niche in the escorting world, the fetish escort, often calling herself Mistress and writing her bio in a manner that suggests intense power tripping, is willing to do all manner of horrible or horribly amusing things to a person, depending on your own particular world view.

Sometimes fetish escorts will even team up to provide you with the ultimate experience in ass kicking sexual fun, things like Goddess Parties, not to be confused with feminist, female empowerment parties full of chicks with unshaved armpits and hemp miniskirts, that are about as crazy as you’d expect based on the name. But if you’re not getting the picture, let’s flesh it out some.

Goddess Parties come in different forms, but the gist of the thing is that you are the servant to an entire group of dominant women and if fraternities have taught us nothing else it’s that a crazy idea alone because an insane act in a group of likeminded individuals. Thus anything a single Mistress is apt to do alone is going to be compounded creatively when you’re serving the whims of a handful of ladies.

Prices can range from $1500 for a couple hours to $3000 just for one hour with up to five women, but factor in all that excessive punishment you’re paying for and how could things go wrong. If you’re wondering what all that cash gets you, here’s some fun samples from a few websites that offer the service:

• Tongue slave – arguably this isn’t the worst sounding thing in the world, although there’s no specific mention made of just where your tongue is going to be slaving. In an ideal scenario you’re licking chocolate off of nipples but it’s not outside the realm of possibility that you’ll be licking dust off of faux leather boot heels.
• Foot slave – If you’re lucky you’re just licking boot heels here, if you’re unlucky you may be getting your balls crushed. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. 
• Body worship slave – Honestly, I’m not really sure what this entails. It could end in you having a mouthful of ass though which is cool enough.
• Human dildo – This is inexplicably written like it’s a bad thing, as though there’s a man out there who, faced with the prospect of being used solely for a woman’s sexual pleasure, will feel crushed and morally bankrupt and perhaps curl up and cry.

As an added bonus, the parties are offered up as group events, meaning you and a couple other guys, as single parties, for you alone and as bi parties, wherein you and a couple of guys will be forced to do the above mentioned tasks not just for the dominant ladies, but on one another. Admittedly, taste is all subjective, but hey, how many times are you likely to be ever presented with the opportunity to be forced to get off about 5 women at the same time? Even a real dildo is going to need a break after that.