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I'm one of the best paid and most popular male escorts on the planet. I live primarily in hotels. And in my personal gym in my London penthouse.
My clients are the very abundant and famous: top designs, athletes, vocalists, starlets, and even royals. All filled with cash. In my line of task cash is not an aspect; I get effectively paid and constantly what I ask for. That's one of the opportunities when you're in a league of your own.
The cost I need to pay is living a hush hush life of secrecy and making sure I'm in no chance related to my customers. And I'm continuously checked and under scrutiny of a medical professional who works for MI5. This gives me clearance with even the most sensitive contacts, like the princesses of Britain and Monaco.
I do whatever my clients want me to do, I understand no limitations considering sex. All my customers are at least 18 years old, and I work strictly without prophylactics. Money shots are of no interest to my clients, and the interactions are never tape-recorded.
I'm sometimes even utilized for reproducing, which the outcome I'm having offspring that are also kids of the well-known. I'm specifically used for this function by lesbians.
I'm not an escort who wines and dines the women, I'm strictly there for the sex. I can go on uninterrupted for a long time and just come on commando, simply like the best male pornography stars.For the sake of discreetness I'm either already in the hotel suite of my client when she shows up, or I'm escorted in by her security detail. When she finished her lecture at the Ziggo Dome she was ushered to my Prinsengracht loft rather of her hotel suite.
Before I sent the mature MILF back to her hotel some 2 hours later on I fucked Michelle deep and difficult and left my trademark keepsake at the limit of her womb. At the time I lived on Barbados. I might live my life without further earnings for quiet some time, so I decided to remain there.
One day a man approached me at the bar. Suit, friendly, quiet handsome. He said he had actually observed my yearning for the ladies, the way I observed them on the beach. He asked me if I had actually noticed the girls' desire for me. I hadn't. He described to me they did. He informed me there was something that made the girls want me, physically. They desired to make love with me. Was it my body, I asked him. That could be part of it, he said, however not necessarily so. Surely women are more attracted to handsome males, but that's not enough for them to wish to make love. Actually wishing to make love, beyond a fleeting musing. Like a burning desire that needs to be extinguished. He made certain I had that attraction.
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