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I'm one of the very best paid and most sought-after male escorts on the planet. I live generally in hotels. And in my private gym in my London penthouse.
My customers are the very abundant and famous: top models, professional athletes, singers, actresses, and even royals. All loaded with cash. In my line of responsibility money is not a factor; I get extremely well paid and always what I request. That's one of the privileges 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 certain I'm in no other way associated with my clientele. And I'm continuously tested and under scrutiny of a physician 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 customers want me to do, I know no limits considering sex. All my customers are at least 18 years old, and I work strictly without condoms. Loan shots are of no interest to my customers, and the interactions are never tape-recorded.
I'm in some cases even utilized for reproducing, which the result I'm having offspring that are also children of the well-known. I'm especially used for this purpose by lesbians.
I'm not an escort who red 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 task force, simply like the finest male porn stars.For the sake of discreetness I'm either currently in the hotel suite of my client when she arrives, or I'm accompanied 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.
Given that she had actually delivered her last lecture of the series she required some interruption to unwind. With Barak not at hand my discrete services were a practical alternative. Before I sent the fully grown MILF back to her hotel some two hours later on I fucked Michelle deep and hard and left my trademark keepsake at the limit of her womb. I remember my first assignment like it was yesterday. At the time I lived on Barbados. I was there on a holiday, delighting in the sun, browse and sand, and life in basic, especially the girls on the beach in skimpy swimwears. I had recently made a little fortune from selling my ICT start-up. I could live my life without more income for quiet some time, so I decided to stay there.
One day a male approached me at the bar. Match, friendly, quiet good-looking. He stated he had actually noticed my yearning for the girls, the way I observed them on the beach. He asked me if I had discovered the ladies' desire for me. I had not. He discussed to me they did. He informed me there was something that made the girls desire me, physically. They wished to have sex with me. Was it my body, I asked him. That might be part of it, he said, however not necessarily so. Undoubtedly ladies are more brought in to good-looking men, but that's not enough for them to wish to make love. Actually wishing to make love, beyond a short lived musing. Like a burning desire that needs to be extinguished. He made sure I had that tourist attraction.
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