An Escorts Life – His own words…

The short autobiography you are about to read is a contribution from a guy named Liam. We met on a train to Los Angeles. He had been working in San Francisco for a regular “client” and I was headed to friend’s for some rest and relaxation. This is one of those leave it to fate moments. A seasoned male escort meets a publisher of male erotica …a match made in heaven when one of the two is seeking some editorial content for a good read. He agreed to write a little something about himself for Handbook readers and here is what he had to say.

Okay first of all let me say I am not a writer. Not much one for written words however I did want to share some of my experiences and thoughts about how I pay the bills. I am a 29 year old white male. I am 5’-10” tall, 175 pounds, light brown hair, fairly smooth and carry 8 inches of un-cut meat between my legs. I am not going to say very good looking or handsome but I will say that I am easy on the eyes. My father was Irish and my mother was Dutch. We moved from Ireland to the US when I was three years old. I grew up in Seattle Washington in the Fremont area and lived there until I was old enough to get the hell out. That place was not for me. Too cold and way too sleepy for it’s own good. No offense to all of you from Washington. It just wasn’t for me. My teenage memories of Seattle sexually were of the usual.  I jerked off alot and had a few regular buddies to play with. Class mates and some of the neighborhood boys. At an early age I knew I had something to offer. I was hung large for my age and I loved to show it off whenever I got the chance. I remember walking to the corner store when I was about 17 in a pair of thin worn out sweat pants and no underwear. I got so much pleasure out of all the stares and smiles. It made me feel important. That may sound strange but it really did. People may say that I didn’t receive the love and nurturing I should have received as a child that’s why you are seeking the attention sexually. That’s not the case. I was close to my father or mother and hugs were always the answer to everything. I wasn’t abused or treated badly.  I have no complaints. I just love sharing my dick! End of discussion. I moved to Los Angeles when I was about 22 with a friend who’s family owned a house that needed a little maintenance. So for free rent we would do some light construction and yard work. It was awesome. The weather was the complete opposite of Seattle. I could free-ball (no underwear for those who aren’t familiar with that term) any day or night of the year. We had a great place to live and I was happy. I worked a few jobs here and there until I found something I really enjoyed (aside from sex) was working in the yard at the home we were living in. I answered an add in the paper for titled “Gardner needed for Brentwood home and generous executive.” The long and short of it is I was hired. The only requirement was that I work with my shirt off. There was no funny business and the guy was on the up and up. He was a quite, well educated professional who needed some regular eye candy. I fit that bill. One afternoon I had been working in the front garden when a guy who I had noticed jogging by once before stopped to talk . He wanted to know if I might be interested in coming by his place after I finished my day here so he could show me his yard as he was looking for someone to take care of some things. Okay, this sounds like it’s right out of a porn, but I am telling you this kind of shit happens all the time. When I think back to it I still get a puffy.  Anyway, I stopped by this guys place, talked gardening for about ten minutes and of course there was some sexual tension because I thought this guy was hot. Could it have been my dick growing in my pants as we were talking? I think so because the conversation turned from fertilizer and ground cover to him laying out $300.00 bucks and asking me if he could get a taste of what was in my pants. At that point a light went off. I have to be honest and say that the escort light was there all the time I just didn’t really know who to go about making it happen. Needless to say this guy laid down the cash I dropped my pants and he gave me the most unbelievable blow job I have had up to that point. It lasted for about an hour. He would get me close and then stop. Get me close again and we would share a beer. It went on for about an hour. I was in hog heaven! It was this guy who got me started in the business. He had a friend who liked to have regular relations with male escorts and he would like to pass my number along. Of course I agreed. I thought to myself that if I could manage gardening and escorting, both part time that would be an ideal situation for me. Needless to say, I never worked in that guys yard. Actually I never saw him again even though I am still working for the same man at the same residence as where I met that jogger. I currently have about six regular men I visit at various times of the year. They all pay very well and I have been to some amazing places. Paris, Spain, Thailand and others. My rates vary depending on how much time we spend together and also based upon how often we see each other. My rates, well, I would rather not give out that information but I will say I don’t have to worry about my finances. I don’t just satisfy the needs of men who like to get fucked. One of my regulars likes to service me while I slap his ass. Another guy (a married man) who I see at least once a month at his vacation home in here in Los Angeles likes to make me dinner, shower with me and cuddle all night. No sex at all. Being an escort in some regards is like being an unlicensed therapist. It sounds cliche but its true. These men slowly open up to you and feel as if they can share their most intimate and personal thoughts. It’s pretty amazing if you really think abut that dynamic. It’s taken a while to gather together a reliable and constant source of income that these gentlemen supply. I have been pretty fortunate and I learned early on to always screen or meet with a perspective client before hand. It’s worked for me up to this point so I am not messing with a good system. At the end of the day I go to bed happy with how things have turned out for me. I have some money in the bank, invested some for later, met some very interesting people and the best part is I am my own boss doing what I love to do. Sharing my dick  and tending to gardens.

(From Issue 01/Volume 03 2009)

Topic: Random

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