Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (19 page)

The scene we did took barely four hours. Generally Titan would take a full day to shoot, but everything went well and we made great time, so we were out of there by early afternoon.

After we were finished and cleaned up, Jasun asked us if he could ask us a few questions for the Titan website blog and for a separate blog. I was always excited to do behind-the-scenes interviews and enjoyed the interaction with fans, but Johnny wanted no part of it. After some pleading, he begrudgingly agreed but rolled his eyes when Jasun wasn’t looking. His answers to Jasuns’ questions were short, and he clearly wanted to get the fuck out of there and on to wherever he was headed next. I, on the other hand, always loved an opportunity to talk about myself, so I enjoyed every minute of it. We finally wrapped it up and I was on my way back to my hotel to pack for my trip home the next day.

That evening I headed down to the Castro to do some last-minute shopping at a few stores, and then headed to the Powerhouse Bar, where the bartenders got me completely drunk on whiskey and beer. I ended up meeting porn star Tony Vega that night, and we had a fun time together. We both got drunk, and then went back to my place to fuck around. I barely got any sleep and had to wake up early to head back to Vegas.

When I got back the following day, I was happy to be home and spent the first twenty minutes cuddling with the dogs on the couch. I had never been gone so long, so one of the dogs (I’m still unsure which one) had peed all over the sofa when I came in the door. In spite of that, it was definitely great to be home.

After I had some cuddle time with the pups I took a nap. Then I foolishly went out and partied all night with my friends who I hadn’t seen in almost two weeks. My friend Jay got locked out of his apartment and needed a place to stay, so he and I ended up hooking up at my place. I had somehow booked three clients the following day, and knew I needed to see each one of them and live up to my agreeing to see them. I was still tired, feeling a bit run down, and wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to get through three sessions when I was running on a few hours of drunken sleep.

I hadn’t gotten off for almost two days, although I had that drunken hookup with porn star Tony Vega my last night in San Francisco, and then the other hookup the following night, with my friend Jay. I didn’t get off either time because I was so exhausted and drunk and all I wanted to do was just pass out. Both times all we did was make out, roll around, and cuddle. So there was definitely a massive sperm buildup going on in my dick, and I was horny. Generally, being with a client doesn’t really do it for me because it’s work and I’m trying to focus on their needs and what they want. Having two “almost hookups” and not cumming for a few days was leaving me very sexually frustrated and antsy, so I was hoping at least one of the clients would be hot and I’d have good sexual chemistry with him.

I went to Circus Circus to see my first client, Derrick. He was from Oregon, came to Vegas a few times a year, and I had been seeing him for over a year now. He was an incredibly nice and generous man who loved to spoil me, even though he always managed to stay in the shittiest hotels on the strip. Seeing him was enjoyable but exhausting at the same time. The actual anal penetration with him lasted less than two minutes, but everything leading up to that was too rough, far too aggressive, and physically uncomfortable for me.

He was someone who was enthralled with the porn industry. He would sit there and ask me question after question about it and listen intently as I told him about all my adventures. He treated me like a star, which I found amusing. He kind of looked like he could have been a porn star from the ‘70s with his moustache—now saggy and slightly stained with tobacco—tighty-whities underwear, and gold chains. We would generally talk for about an hour, and then he would excuse himself to go to the bathroom and would come back to begin the foreplay.

It was kind of obvious to me that he probably watched far too much porn for many years because the way he had sex was similar to how bad porn would happen. He would say a lot of “Oh, yeah, you fucking like it when I drill your little pussy boy butthole?” or “You fucking like that tongue in your little pink asshole, bitch?” Honestly... who really says that? It’s not romantic, it’s far too aggressive, and to be honest, I found it a little demeaning.

But like a good escort, I moaned back, “Oh, fuck, yeah, Derrick... eat my pink butthole,” and moan like it’s the best feeling ever.

Eventually, he started to ram his fingers up my ass without lubrication and only a little bit of spit. I tried to endure it for as long as possible, and made sure my face wasn’t reading how I really felt. Having a little finger action in my ass wasn’t always a bad thing, but what many men do not realize is that the fingernails need to be trimmed and not jagged, there needs to be a lot of lube or spit, and the best thing to do is go slowly and not ram your finger in there like you’re frantically ringing a doorbell. Derrick did this for a few minutes and it felt awful. Eventually I acted like it was slightly uncomfortable, as if to say, “Okay, that’s enough... let’s move on, babe,” and we did.

He took the bottle of old-school KY jelly from the nightstand, put on a Trojan, and wrapped up his five-inch cock covered in gray wiry pubic hair that has probably never been trimmed. He flipped me onto my stomach and prepared me to get fucked doggy-style. Personally, I think doggy-style is painful and—like its name—reminds me of two dogs in heat. It’s not a pretty position, and it just feels like I am getting rammed from behind. How does this feel good to the bottom? Derrick has always loved this position, and it somehow worked for me because instead of looking at him, I could watch the porn on the screen, make a to-do list in my head, think about the sushi I am going to order from Kaizen Sushi later that night, and block out whatever is happening behind me.

He started off slowly and began to drill my ass. Not only is doggie style uncomfortable, most guys think it works if you just slip it in and start darting your penis in and out. Yet again... some guys are clueless to how this whole “sex” thing works.

“Aw, yeah... baby, you like that huge cock inside you?”

“Fuck, yeah, Derrick... it feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah? You love it in your tight boy pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Derrick... harder, please... HARDER!” I yelled. I knew the more I yelled and acted like it’s the best feeling ever, the more he was going to get off. He continued to nail me like a jackhammer and shove my face in the pillow. I tried to get a little peak at the porn on TV as an escape, and he finally shot his load. He continued to pump away as he collapsed on my back.

“Fuck, yeah, baby... that was amazing,” he told me.

“Oh, my God, that was so good,” I said. We lay there for a few minutes until I finally roll him off my back.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and take a shower. I had only twenty-five minutes until my next appointment.

I left Circus Circus to drive over to the Venetian. The hotels were not far from each other, but it was Saturday night, and traffic was a nightmare no matter where you were on the Las Vegas Strip. I made it to the Venetian and texted my next client to tell him I was there. His name was Michael and we planned for him to meet me at the bottom of the elevators to “escort” me up to his room because security checked everyone’s room key.

I was standing off to the side at the bottom of the elevators. Waiting for a client, especially one I didn’t know, was the most uncomfortable feeling for me. I didn’t care if people knew I was an escort—I was not the only one in this town doing it—but I felt like a complete hooker waiting for a client in the lobby of a hotel.

As I waited for Michael, I pretended to look at stuff on my phone, but my eyes were glued to everyone coming out of the elevators. Eventually out walked a large black man who made direct eye contact with me, and I realized this was him. Michael was someone I had seen before, but for some reason I had not saved his number in my phone. This really annoyed me, because if I had saved his number, I would not have known not to see him again. He was a very large man with a lot of extra foreskin and a very large belly. The sex was extra work for me, trying to work with his large body and small dick. Before he showed up, part of me was desperately hoping this client and I would have a good chemistry, but when I saw him, I realized what I was in store for. My goal and hope for an encounter with a client isn’t that he is necessarily hot or good-looking. I have no expectations the guy will look like a super model. If this were the case, I would not be doing what I was doing. But at the very least, I’m always hoping for a good chemistry between the guy and me.

Michael was a very nice man from Miami, but unfortunately I felt no chemistry with him. I also recalled that he got far too rough with me last time, and I didn’t enjoy myself at all. The sex was uncomfortable and at times painful, and I would count down the minutes until I could leave. He got into bondage, whipping, paddling my ass, finger fucking me, and flogging. These are things I sometimes enjoy, but I didn’t with him.

There was no turning back now—he had seen me and I had seen him. I turned my disappointment into sheer excitement and said, “Oh, my God... hi!” Sometimes, the only way I could fake how I was really feeling was to transform my feelings of disappointment and exhaustion into sheer and utter excitement and giddy happiness. I had to constantly remind myself that escorting was not a dating service, and I was obliged to do my job and bring some enjoyment and relief to these men. I knew some escorts who will turn and walk away if they get a client who is unattractive or who they don’t want to deal with. I know some escorts that have literally gotten up during the session, taken the money on the table, and just walked out because, as they have said, “I don’t fuck old guys, ugly dudes, or fat asses.” I also knew a few veteran escorts who required clients to submit photos of themselves prior to meeting them so they could choose whether or not to see them. These were escorts who were generally not too concerned with customer service, repeat clients, or people bad-mouthing them on the escorting blogs. I, on the other hand, still had a heart—believe it or not—and always tried to make the best of every situation with a client, although some men had posted things about me on websites and blogs saying I didn’t seem like I was “into them” and that there was no chemistry between us during our session. I realized it was all a part of the job, and there was no point in dwelling on it.

Michael and I headed upstairs in the elevator, and as we made small-talk, I was reminded of everything we did last time and how much I really didn’t want to be there. He opened the door to his massive suite and I walked in. Sure enough, right beside his bed, he had already laid out whips, nipple clamps, floggers, handcuffs, blindfolds, lube, condoms, paddles, and a plethora of other sex toys I had no interest in using.

Michael was the type of guy that liked a little bit of small-talk, but he was definitely focused on using that full hour to fuck me and get the most out of his session. He was obviously organized with his assortment of toys and props, and I was hoping to avoid using all of them.

We talked about what he was in town for, all that he had done, the various restaurants he had eaten at, and when he was heading back to Miami. He excused himself to go to the rest room and I took off my clothes to get it started. I only had an hour or so until my next client and I wanted to wrap this one up as soon as I could. All I could think about was my sushi and bottle of wine waiting for me at the end of the night and my comfy bed I was going to crawl into.

He came out of the bathroom and I was lying there in my underwear waiting for him to join me. He hopped on the bed, and as it rocked back and forth, I immediately had visions of the whole thing collapsing with us both on it. He went on and on about how gorgeous I was and how he had been looking forward to this for weeks now. He went in to kiss me and I reciprocated. He wanted to do a lot of kissing, and I always agree to kiss because I know a lot of the men get into it, but after a while I try to move onto something if I’m not enjoying it. Kissing is very intimate and I know many escorts won’t do it. I, on the other hand, knew that more men wanted kissing and making out more than actual penetration, so I generally always agreed to let them kiss me. Michael liked big, sloppy, wet kisses, which really made my stomach turn. We kissed for a little bit, and he was trying to force as much spit into my mouth and lick around my lips and shove his tongue down my throat. After a few minutes, I gave him my neck as I threw my head back and moaned in ecstasy. I felt as if guys liked that because it affirmed them as good lovers, but it was also an easy way to transition on to something else. Going down on him was always a lot of work and I had to prepare myself for it and keep my eyes closed. His large belly and extra foreskin required work to push back the belly while sucking on his dick and keeping the foreskin back. He really got into it and I tried to do the best oral so I could to wrap this up. After a couple of minutes into it, he told me to suck his balls, and I went down to try to find them but had little luck. He was so large and his balls were so small they got lost in his scrotum and the fat surrounding it. I didn’t even know what I was licking.

“Aw, yes, son... yes, son... that’s it. Get those big black balls nice and wet, son... Yes, son, you like my big balls?” he asked as he shoved my head into his crotch even harder and I struggled to breathe. All I could smell was the stench of this man’s crotch and the cocoa butter he must have lathered on his balls and legs before I got there. It took a lot for me not to throw up.

“That’s it, suck on those balls, boy,” he moaned. What balls was he talking about? I was licking skin, but there was nothing that looked or felt like balls, but if it felt good for him and he was getting off, then I was fine with it.
Let’s just get this over with... I’m tired, horny, and incredibly hungry.
I don’t know where my mind was, but I was just trying to do enough to him so he knew I was at least half awake and still doing something down there to keep him entertained.