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I'm one of the best paid and most desired male escorts in the world. I live primarily in hotels. And in my personal gym in my London penthouse.
In my line of responsibility money is not an element; I get extremely well paid and always what I ask for. That's one of the privileges when you're in a league of your own.
The cost I have to pay is living a hush hush life of secrecy and making sure I'm in no chance associated with my customers. And I'm continuously tested and under analysis of a doctor who works for MI5. This offers 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 understand no limitations thinking about sex. All my clients are at least 18 years old, and I work strictly without prophylactics. Money shots are of no interest to my customers, and the interactions are never ever tape-recorded.
Otherwise I'm into anything. I'm often even used for breeding, which the outcome I'm having offspring that are also children of the popular. I'm especially used for this purpose by lesbians. A pussy is a pussy, so to me it's all the very same.
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 only 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 arrives, 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 instead of her hotel suite.
Since she had provided her last lecture of the series she needed some interruption to loosen up. With Barak not at hand my discrete services were a convenient alternative. Prior to I sent out the fully grown MILF back to her hotel some two hours later on I fucked Michelle deep and tough and left my hallmark keepsake at the threshold of her womb. I remember my first task like it was the other day. At the time I survived on Barbados. I existed on a holiday, taking pleasure in the sun, browse and sand, and life in general, especially the girls on the beach in skimpy swimwears. I had just recently made a little fortune from offering my ICT start-up. I could live my life without further earnings for quiet some time, so I decided to stay there.
One day a guy approached me at the bar. Suit, friendly, peaceful good-looking. He said he had observed my yearning for the women, the way I observed them on the beach. He asked me if I had observed the girls' desire for me. I had not. He described to me they did. He told me there was something that made the women 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 always so. Undoubtedly women are more brought in to good-looking males, but that's insufficient for them to wish to make love. Actually desiring to make love, beyond a fleeting daydream. Like a burning desire that has actually to be extinguished. He made sure I had that attraction.
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