Welcome to my adult world.
Some might laugh that I went through my coming-of-age phase in my thirties—and in less than three weeks, no less—but it’s true. My first American cheeseburger from Little Cheval (they’re fantastic, I highly recommend them!!!!!!!), too many marshmallows and Pb&J sandwiches; a fleeting taste of romance where the potential partner turned out to be a manipulative pup; wide-leg trousers; and—something I never would have suspected of myself—buying a pair of Adidas Superstars (with my teenage daughter, naturally). I took a break from work for this period, because my mom surprised me by flying in... She was the one I’d always had to be responsible for, for as long as I could remember, but something shifted; finally, I was the one hugging her, and finally, I forgave her.So sweet, yes, but the thrills, when I was hiding everything for work from drawers unforgettable.
Having three generations under one roof was an amazing experience. My girl is my soulmate; we practically read each other’s minds. For the first time, I heard my mother say I’m a wonderful mom, and when she learned about the nature of my work, she told me I am amazing. I’d describe it as a rollercoaster ride—floating on clouds in Moominvalley one moment, walking miles through downtown Chicago the next.
I recently experienced a touching act of kindness. A close friend of mine had the idea to ask me to meet an acquaintance of his who was nursing a broken heart. No sex involved—just a conversation, not therapy, simply two people connecting. I’m not greedy and I genuinely love helping, so I offered to do it for free, but my Asian brother—emotional and sincere just like me (we share the same brain quirk, or gift)—wouldn't hear of it, so we settled on a lower rate. To this day, I don’t know if my friend did this just for the other guy or for the two of us as well—I’m a bit of a loner who keeps to himself outside of work, too—but it looks like I’ve found a first male friend who isn’t just thinking about sleeping with me :) We agreed to meet once a week to chat about life and cats and to check out local restaurants with interesting food; since we’re both savers, we don’t throw money around but live modestly instead. Luckily, we both love Asian cuisine. Unluckily, my stomach rebelled after the holidays, so I have to go back to an easily digestible diet for the time being :/
I’ll call this friend "P," since he’ll likely pop up here again. Now, I can get to the point :P! While asking me about my life, plans, goals, and so on, "P" made me realize—using his own example—just how chaotic my life is. Thanks, buddy :* . It’s not that I don’t care—quite the opposite—but rather that I haven’t been responsible about setting boundaries between work and my private life. Listening to his answers to those same questions, I asked: "How do you find the time for all that? I work similar hours, yet the day isn't long enough for anything other than work, driving, and my daughter..." "P" smiled and said the key to success is good organization and time-blocking. I started to laugh; I’m a bit of a free spirit, and ever since elementary school, I’ve preferred doing things at my own pace—when I felt like it, not when I had to. I told him his brain reminded me of a multi-core processor, and he agreed. He’s an accountant, but he really impressed me.
The meeting ended; it was late, and I knew my morning yoga session was rapidly slipping away... I’d woken up too late—my brain, unfortunately, needs those seven hours of sleep... I got up feeling different—like a grown-up.
I’ve made my bed every morning for a long time, following the saying "As you make your bed, so you shall sleep," but that morning I decided to organize my life so everything runs like a high-performance processor—without stress or panic. I even finally set the clocks on the stove and the microwave :). Thanks, guys. :)
I grew up without parents. Everything I know about life I learned through experience or from the people I met—both the kind ones and the unkind ones. I didn't have much time to think about organization; in my spare moments, I’d get lost in my own world—which is exactly how I turned into such an unpolished "weirdo." I can feel the difference between growing up and being an adult. There is immense pressure—the responsibility of coordinating everything, fitting it all into the perfect cube of a single day, and avoiding getting lost in illusions (of which there are plenty). It’s about holding yourself to high standards, putting yourself in someone else's shoes, striving for inner peace, and fully accepting the things beyond your control. It’s the stubborn determination—despite setbacks—to become the best version of yourself; it’s like a Rubik’s Cube. Challenge accepted :)—but I’m not giving up the kaleidoscope I use to shift my perspective.
Yesterday was a busy day. After an hour-long drive home, my cats greeted what felt like a corpse. I took a nap to gather the energy to write. The day before, I had promised myself I wouldn’t read any texts and would keep my phone on silent until I was finished. I failed that test. The screen kept lighting up, and I caved. Once again, I gave in to other people's needs, and my own plans were sidelined—after all, one has to be fair; if I reply to one person, I have to reply to everyone. People often don't realize how much energy that drains. On top of that, there was a bit of drama—something I could easily call manipulation. How I regretted picking up that phone.
Once I realized nothing would come of my writing, I started watching videos from "Englishman." Not all of them were to my taste—but then again, it wasn't meant to please me, but him. Still, I found something that caught my eye. A voluptuous brunette lying face-down on a table held my attention; her knees were bent toward her lower back, almost touching her hands, and her entire body was bound with great precision in black rope. She lay motionless, with a huge cock in her mouth. Hmm... I’ve spoken to a few girls in the industry before; most said they wouldn't let themselves be immobilized like that—it’s playing with fire. Yet, hell and curiosity share something in common.
I’ve had a few experiences like that, though rarely were they pleasurable for me, as my partners were either stressed or inexperienced. Of course I like to enjoy my work. "The Englishman" is different. His perfectly controlled, stoic calm inspires trust. Besides, he likes cats—a sign of empathy—so I think I’ll let him fuck me like that.
It’s not about the money or proving anything to anyone. In life, we meet people we’d let whip us, or whose feet we’d tenderly wash. And sometimes, we meet people we wouldn't even want to swat a fly with—even if they are nice.
I also received a video featuring two heterosexual men and a woman. It was a familiar scenario: one guy is fucking her while the other masturbates—big cocks and porn-style moaning... The idea of two men with me used to intimidate me, but in this video, I paid close attention to the woman's facial expressions. She knew them, didn't feel threatened, and was turned on by the teasing—a sort of game played right on the edge. She got fucked incredibly hard, yet despite the exhaustion and likely pain, I could see satisfaction on her face; I’m certain that the men, driven by arousal and following her commands, made her feel like a true queen.
I didn't hesitate for long—I added two gentlemen to my premium service :).
Thinking about the "Englishman" character, I associate him with a wealth of kinky knowledge. He is experienced and better informed than many escorts with years in the business! He asked if I’d ever been to DG2; embarrassed, I asked what that was... When I heard it was a swingers' club, I was overjoyed. I’d always wanted to visit a place like that, but I never had anyone to go with. Now, I don't need a companion; if the mood strikes, I’ll go alone. Of course, I have no intention of joining in any group orgies until I get a feel for the atmosphere—I’m simply curious if it turns me on, since I’m not particularly promiscuous in my private life. Among other kinky tidbits, I also learned the story of a woman who agreed to be whipped a hundred times. I won't lie—it’s something I’ve thought about myself. I think that, depending on the force of the blows, one could lose consciousness and wake up as a completely different person.
I packed a flogger in my suitcase, hoping that my "big" friend might show up someday and I could ask him to use it on me a few times during sex.
"Ask, and it shall be given to you."
"Big Guy" came over for a visit. It’s always interesting with him. I let him take charge :). When he was taking me from behind while I was bound at the wrists and ankles, I asked him to get the flogger out of the suitcase and lash me a few times. He undid the straps holding my hands and made me kneel. He started striking my shoulders, back, and buttocks, though I knew he wasn't using his full strength—he didn't want to hurt me. It turned him on immensely; he loves seeing the look of ecstasy on my face. So, he knelt behind me, gripping my throat with his left hand while flogging me with his right. I took blows everywhere but my face, and when he heard I couldn't breathe, his left hand moved down to my crotch.
An orgasm while deprived of oxygen is pure bliss.
As he was getting ready to leave, he said, "Sex is easy, but having fun during sex—that’s not." We agreed, exchanged smiles, and he left.
I don’t want people to think I’m a masochist—because I’m not anymore; I’ve outgrown that. However, I do love losing myself in the experience, engaging every sense.
When I can’t quite delve into a new client’s soul, I try to ask what he likes in bed, why he’s here, and what really turns him on. I do this because I want the time to be special for him. A few times, I’ve heard a bulleted list of mechanical acts recited one after another—something that made me laugh, because we aren’t programmed machines; we’re human beings. In those moments, I take the risk of teaching my guest how to *feel*; I try to get him to forget that memorized list and stop worrying about the hour coming to an end. It usually works. But since I ask questions, I get asked them too. Few people understand that there is no single, concrete answer to the question of what I like in sex. In fact, "sex" is such an ugly, hollow word. When I’m intimate with a partner, I want to truly *have* a partner. I want to feel that I’m turning him on—from the gentle tracing of my fingertips along his back to the moment I’m riding him. It’s about losing yourself a little by being uninhibited with another person, about shedding the shame that’s missing from so many marriages, and about a shared goal: reaching ecstasy. It doesn’t matter then whether it’s rough sex, a "vanilla" caress of bodies, near-still Tantra, or a mix of everything. It’s about the union of souls and bodies—that’s exactly what I like :)
My butt is already sore from sitting on this wooden chair; I lost almost everything I’d written and couldn't recover it because I’m typing via a translator... so I had to write it all over again. No, I didn't get angry; I’m a grown-up and I’m composed.
I hear my child saying, "I’m emotionally impaired!!!" so I reply, "I have a brain defect."
I’m off.
