Going Out of Business Sale

Anyone wanna buy a used massage parlor?

Yesterday when Audrey arrived at work, the first thing she said to me was "We have to talk." That's never a good phrase to hear whether you're a guy or a girl. I asked her what's up, and she led me outside so Trina couldn't hear.

The other day Audrey met with the landlord to discuss a few items, including the renewal of the lease in August. She's rented this space for about 5 years now and there have never been any issues before. The maintenance is good, the neighbors are quiet, etc. But, we pay almost double what the place is worth because we're a "nuisance" business (read my earlier post on the definition of a "nuisance business"). The landlord knows what we do here, but that sweet rent check keeps him from asking any questions.

That is until this week.

Audrey said that he got really weird on her. Bottom line is that he wants to raise our rent - A LOT. But that's not the weird part. The weird part is that he made some vague references to his "cut" of the business. I asked Audrey want the fuck that was supposed to mean, and even she wasn't sure. Apparently he used the word "cut" several times as both a threat and an offer.

Even though Audrey sometimes acts like a total hard-nosed bitch to us, she's a total pushover when it comes to others. And on top of that, she has a rotten business sense. Combine the 2 and you get the word "SUCKER" tattooed on the forehead. The entire time I've worked for her, I've see her make some incredibly boneheaded decisions like:

The Portable Spa
A single person hot tub that has sat magnificently in the corner of the storage closet - unassembled - for 3 years now.

The Billboard to Nowhere
1 year of billboard space on an unused backroad, pointing towards a patch of woods. To find this billboard, you would have to be totally lost since the road doesn't lead anywhere. Now - if you realized you were lost, turned around, slowed down to 15 mph , then looked waaaaaay to your right, you might get a glimpse of our ad. Unfortunately, you would have to either get a flat tire or crash your car if you wanted to have enough time to actually read it or copy down our phone number.

The LED Message Board
Audrey put in our lobby one of those flashing LED message boards that read out the date and time, plus whatever crap you want it to say. Now when our customers have to wait for a session, they can pretend they're sitting in the DMV.

And my personal favorite...

The Rub-N-Tug Mug
Two cases of customized coffee mugs with our name, phone number, and the words "You're In Good Hands!" Seriously - Audrey didn't get the joke. Some travelling salesman she had as a customer talked her into it. I think 2 of our therapeutic customers took one, and the rest just sat there for months. One day I started handing them out to every guy who walked in saying "Burn it, throw it away, run it over with your car, I don't care. Just take it." I swear - the dumpster out back must have had a dozen coffee mugs in it that night.

Anyway, the landlord also used the words "us" and "we" a few too many times. Audrey said she was totally creeped out by the conversation and is now seriously thinking of bailing when the lease comes up in August. I wouldn't blame her either.

I've seen firsthand what happens when a guy tries muscling in on a Business. It can be a boyfriend of the owner, or a "silent" partner, or some other creep who thinks they can blackmail his way in. At first he'll pretend like he's providing a service like "security." Pretty soon he's telling you to suck his dick if you want to keep your job. And finally, he changes the locks and says your boss has decided to "retire" and now he's in charge. That's what can happen when you're in a legally hazy business and you don't have much recourse.

Let me tell ya, it wouldn't be too hard to move. When you think about it, you only have to move some session rooms, a kitchen and living room, and we can set up shop again. The important thing is the name of the Business, so customers will be able to find us again. I even reminded Audrey that this would be a good time to add on that tanning salon we've always talked about. We would become equal partners in the tanning and I would manage that while she still managed the Business. Funny thing about the 2 businesses - they pretty much require the exact same layouts.

It sounds like the landlord might be trying the blackmail approach to getting a piece of the Business. Well fuck him - If this asshole wants some cash, let him come down here and jerk off a couple guys himself. We can use the help now that Candy's gone. But in the meanwhile, I'll make sure Audrey doesn't do anything stupid with this jerk.

I've always wanted to run my own tanning business, so maybe this'll be my chance. I'd probably still keep my shifts at the Business, but spend my spare time at the salon. I don't know, we'll see. It's all just talk right now, so I still have plenty of time to tell some juicy stories.

CJ

HappyEndingz - International Edition

Things have been rather dull around here lately, so I decided to try something different. I've started making friends with other erotic massage therapists, so I've been learning how they do business in other parts of the country. It's funny - I used to think that what we did here is typical of any massage parlor, but boy was I wrong. For example, in parts of California, it's not uncommon for parlors to give happy endings, but not offer any options. So that's why I'm starting this new topic called "HappyEndingz - International."
Now before we leave the country, I thought we'd start right here in the Good Ole U. S. of A. I've told you all about the Businesses here in SE PA, and let me tell ya - they're all pretty much the standard rub-n-tug with options, and full-service often available. But there are variations to how a parlor does business depending on where you are in the country. So today let me start with...

The Great Northeast
With all the truckers and businessmen we get through here, I've heard stories from EVERYWHERE. For example, if you head over to the Pittsburgh area of the state, you start to see less massage and more full-service in their Businesses. Meanwhile, the places in Jersey are a lot like here - hand release with options. And the closer you get to NYC, the more Asian places you'll find. Customers from NYC say there's no lack of parlors, but we're a hell of a lot cheaper out here in PA.

New England
Recently I've gotten a lot of complaints from guys from MA. I guess there was a recent crackdown on Businesses, and now they're almost impossible to find outside of the big cities. And I've had a number of readers e-mail me about the lack of places up in New Hampshire, Maine and Vermont. For you guys up there, all I can suggest is to hit the internet. Believe me - Businesses are everywhere - you just have to know where to look.

Oh Canada
A lot of my traveling customers have told me that upstate New York is practically not worth visiting since Canada is SOOOOOOOOO much better for parlors. When I first heard this, I didn't think much of it. I figured, so you can get a blowjob up there - so what? Get this - it turns out that massage parlors are legal in Canada. Actually, let me rephrase that. In Canada, there is nothing illegal about massage parlors. The way it was explained to me is not that the government condones what goes on, it just doesn't care. So Businesses up there are free to set up shop and advertise their services.

Canada sounds like a fun place if you're a horny guy. I've had 19 year old college kids tell me that they would road trip up to Windsor or Toronto and get a room for the weekend. Then they would call a liquor store and (are you sitting down?) have a case of beer DELIVERED TO THEIR HOTEL ROOM. Then they'd call up an escort agency and have a girl come over. AND IT'S ALL LEGAL. I guess Canada is proof that it's a man's world.

And then in a category all by itself is the biggest party town of all - Niagara Falls. All of my customers who've been up there say this place is insane. Apparently in Niagara Falls, you can find strip clubs that are actually ATTACHED to massage parlors! But these guys also tell me that the parlors up there are really just brothels, and you can't count on getting a real massage. In fact, if you just want a hand job, they said you can get that INSIDE the strip club - and it's perfectly normal!!!

I had this one customer who used to travel to Buffalo all the time for business, so he used to cross the border to "attend the ballet" every chance he got. He used to go to this one place where it wasn't uncommon to see 3 guys getting hand jobs and 2 more getting blown in the VIP lounge. I asked him what's the point of an attached massage parlor if you could get a happy ending inside the club. He said that if you wanted to actually fuck a dancer, you would arrange to meet her in the parlor next door. With that kind of shit going on up there in Canada, our humble little Business wouldn't last 2 seconds.

So that's it for the northeast. If any of you local guys have more stories to tell about this area, please share. And please don't stop visiting your places so you can save up your money for a trip to Canada. Remember - we're in a recession so we need your American dollars right here!

CJ

Freak of the Week - The Panty Bandit

Sorry I haven't had much to say recently guys, but things have been kinda slow and boring at work. Lots of the Regular Joes coming in, asking for the cheapest options. But the other day, I did have a guy ask to buy my used G-string.

Now I get requests like that so often, that I don't even consider these guys as candidates for Freak of the Week. What is it with guys and used underwear? Well, I guess I shouldn't say anything since I've actually seen what guys do with underwear.

A typical panty-buyer will usually just smell them while I do the hand release. Occasionally a customer will ask that I use my G-string to do the hand release - by wrapping it around his dick and then jerking him off with it. But I would have to say that the weirdest was the guy who took my panties, wadded them up into a ball, and then stuffed them down his throat while I did the hand release. That one kinda freaked me out.

This got me thinking about an old customer of mine, that we'll call Freddy. Like other panty guys, it started off innocently enough with him asking (jokingly) to have my G-string at the end of session. I said sure since I always keep extras around, and $60 for a $8 thong is a pretty good deal.

Let me explain here that $60 is the going rate for used underwear. We girls got together one day and set a price since it happens so often, and it's a sellers market since buyers NEVER say "no" once they've asked. And why is it that guys only want panties and never bras? I have a drawer full of old ones, and at $30 for a new one you guys can buy as many as you want. Make me an offer!

The next time Freddy came in, he asked to buy my G-string at the end of session, and I said "I don't know if you want this one... I bought it a year ago and it's ready to be thrown out. It's super comortable, so I wear it all the time..." Well let me tell ya - this little story only made Freddy want it even more. So I sold it to him! And I was honest too - I figured who would want some ratty old underwear?

And this became Freddy's "thing." He would offer to buy my panties after I told him a story about them. The better the story, the higher the price he would offer. In fact, it got to the point where I would sometimes bring in extra G-strings that had particularly good stories to tell:

"I wore these last Saturday while I was out dancing with my girlfriends..."
"My boyfriend pulled these off with his teeth the last time we fucked..."
"These are my lucky panties - I always seem to get lucky whenever I wear them..."

I'm not good at making stuff up, so the stories were more or less true. I would sometimes exagerate just to make them seem more sexy or funny, but it never really mattered since he just wanted to hear something/anything about them.

Now the most money he ever paid for a pair of my used panties was for a very true story about an old boyfriend. We had just broken up after a huge fight, but then got back together after I admitted it was all my fault (it was - I was a total bitch to this guy). Anyway, we were talking and finally decided to get back together. BUT he had a list of demands that included makeup sex.

I like makeup sex as much as the next person, but he REALLY wanted to get his revenge on me. So he asked for anal sex followed by a blowjob and ending with a facial. Now I rarely give up my ass, so that would indeed be a special treat for him. But if he thought I was going to put his cock in my mouth after it was in my ass - He might as well look for a new girlfriend.

After much bargaining, we settled on an ass fuck to be followed by a facial, with the understanding that he could NOT let that cock touch my face. That seemed to make him happy, so we went at it right then and there. He was so fucking horny, that he didn't even bother removing my thong. He just bent me over, pulled it to the side and started doing me from behind. So we both fucked like that for a while - two half clothed, angry people going at it like animals.

And let me tell ya - he obviously had some issues still because he fucked me HARD. Payback is certainly a bitch. Luckily for me, he got overly excited and ended up cumming before he wanted to. He completely forgot about my offer to let him pop on my face, so he just pulled it out and came all over my ass and the thong. However, the last laugh was on me because I had trouble walking for the next 3 days.

My first thought when I told this story to Freddy was that he wouldn't be interested in panties that smelled of sweat, ass and cum. But boy let me tell you - not only was he NOT offended, but he ended up offering me the most he's ever done. Even I was like "Dang - I ought to break up with guys more often!"

Now that I think about it, this is probably where I first started getting practice at telling sordid stories. Who knew that when I was just trying to turn some guy on to make a buck, that I'd be learning a valuable skill. Go figure!

CJ

The Rabbit Hole - Part 2: The Conclusion

Now where were we? Oh yeah... I was standing in the middle of the dildo aisle, talking to a little old German man while trying to shield the eyes of my underage cousin.

Then things got weird.

"Ow can I elp joo ladies?" [Remember - you have to imagine a thick German accent].

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... " I managed. Then my razor sharp wits kicked in help make sense of things. I knew there was a reason why we were here... but what was it? What will bail me out.... Oh yeah! "Wanda sent us!"

"Ach!! Joo know Vanda?" His little face lit up. "Ow is she? Joo tell her ve have zum more of dose vunderful anal rings in shtock dat she loves." I cringed at that one - TMI (Too Much Information). My auntie would kill me if she knew what I was exposing her daughter too. But at the same time, I was dying to take a look around this place. So I asked him what exactly this place was. It turns out that the Rabbit Hole is one of the largest suppliers of adult entertainment and fetish items on the east coast - and this is their warehouse.

This place was strictly a warehouse for several years, and only recently decided to open up to the public at the urging of some of their clients. So they cleared out a corner and turned it into a kind of Walmart of bondage. The owners were from Germany and were INTIMATELY familiar with all of their wares. I got the impression that the husband was well known in fetish circles because of the quality and quantity of his merchandise.

We figured we may as well start the tour right here in the dildo department. Our shopping list included one, so we asked Fritz (we decided to just call him Fritz) to see some.

Forget I even asked...

Fritz started pulling out one fake penis after another. Each one bigger, fancier, and more expensive than the previous. Look, all we wanted was a fake dick to pass around between the girls at the party to play with and make jokes. But Fritz was showing us the absolute latest in artificial penis technology.

"Ach... Luke at de quality of dis piece!" He handed it to Catherine. "Veel dat material. Absolutely life like!" The hair stood up on the back my head when he did that. But it was hysterical - Catherine just sort of raised a finger and timidly poked at it. She nodded her head in agreement as if she knew the difference.

Trina grabbed it. She turned it around in her hand, stretched it, bent it, and rubbed it. If it were a new car, she would have kicked the tires. "Feels pretty real. Good weight to it." She handed it back to Fritz. "Got anything in black?"

This sort of took us down a whole other path. He showed us a black one that I swear was 2 feet long and had feet attached to the end of it. Another one was a foot long, but had a pump that was used to inflate it with water. However, that was not the highlight of the show. The last thing he brought out was this giant dildo that must have been 6 inches in diameter and 18 inches long!!!

I think Fritz saw our mouths drop because he quickly explained "Dis is for show only. I geet many requests for dis." Then he leaned in close, "...but not all joos it for show, ja?" I thought poor Catherine was gonna pass out.

Let me tell ya, Fritz was a freakin expert in everything he sold. After selecting a nice medium sized dildo (in black), he toured us around the place. Next was the dress dummies that were in Nazi uniforms, chain mail bikinis, and rubber outfits. Apparently his 3 most requested fetish lines. The bondage department alone was the size of a small convenience store. But what really got my attention were the "appliances."

There was a section dedicated to all sorts of motorized gear. The freakiest thing I saw was a sort of saddle that hung in a frame. In the middle of the saddle was a giant vibrator sticking straight up. Fritz said that was for extremely serious collectors only, but he sells a lot to adult movie production companies.

By now it was getting late, so we went through the rest of our list and picked up the last remaining items. Fritz insisted on us sampling the latest in edible body paints. To our surprise, Catherine was the first to just jump in there and try them out. Either she was just hungry, or excited that sex could be mixed with candy.

The last story I want to tell you about our afternoon is about the fetish clothing. Fritz brought an arm full of catalogs with every single fetish theme imaginable. You want a Little-Bo-Peep outfit in purple latex? He can get it for you. The catalogs were the funniest things. They start off innocently enough with men and women in sexy stripper outfits. Next is the standard leather dominatrix stuff. But finally it gets WEIRD. Rubber body suits with holes cut out for the naughty bits. And Latex that conforms to every curve of your body.

But what caught my eye was this nun's outfit made of body fitting rubber. It included the funny hat and everything! I told Fritz I'd love to try one on and he happily obliged. "Ach! Dis artist is vunderful. He is a master!"

Fritz eyed me up carefully, but eventually brought me an outfit that was obviously 2 sizes too small. I told him he made a mistake, but he just said that's the whole point of rubber fetish. It's about being tightly wrapped up.

I knew there was no way in hell I was gonna get into this skin tight outfit by myself. But now I had a dilemma. I could bring in Trina to the dressing booth, but that would leave Catherine alone with the German pervert. Or I could use Catherine's help - but would squeezing into a rubber fetish outfit qualify as contributing to the deliquency of a minor?

I figured supervised deliquency was better than unsupervised deliquency, so I brought Catherine with me. Inside the dressing booth I noticed a big bottle of baby powder. Turns out baby powder acts as a kind of lubricant to get you in and out of the rubber. So I stripped down, slathered myself in baby powder and then had my baby cousin help stuff me into this body suit. It took about 15 minutes of squeezing, yelling, swearing, pinching and holding my breath to do it, but I finally got that damn thing on.

And let me tell you - I looked AWESOME. As awesome as any nun with 36 DD's in skin tight rubber anyways. But boy was that thing constricting. I felt like my entire body was being slowly choked. Fritz assured me that was part of the fetish and that you have to work your way to wearing it for any length of time. I swear, if I had any fetish events to go to, I would have taken this outfit. But unfortunately I couldn't think of any and the the $600 price tag didn't help either.

Catherine spent another 15 minutes getting me out of that sausage casing. And then I had to put on my regular clothes with all that baby powder mixed with sweat. Ugh. I almost felt guilty about getting his nice nuns outfit all slimey, but then I figured he probably gets off on that kind of stuff.

We said goodbye to our new friend, and he said we could come back any time. He also added that he'd love for me to come model some of his merchandise at local events, but I was kinda weirded out by that. Heck - it took me 30 minutes just to get in and out of 1 outfit!! LOL

So that was our little adventure in the world of fetish gear. When I dropped off Catherine at my aunts later that night, I suggested she not mention the little German man and the dildo testing. She said she wouldn't even know where to start.

CJ

The Rabbit Hole: Part 1

Since I told that story about my friend Wanda the Domme, I gave her a call just so we could catch up. She's doing fine and has figured out how to supplement her income in these troubling times. I guess when a stockbroker loses his ass for real, he no longer wants anyone to paddle it for him.

Wanda started this new gig doing BDSM shows at local strip clubs and fetish clubs. She takes a couple of her friends/colleagues to some night spot where she does demonstrations of BDSM techniques including:

Ritual Knot Tying
Whipping/Spanking
Candle wax
Knife play
Enemas (yes - enemas for fun)
Rubber/latex fashion
Electrocution (???!!!)

Wow. Being around Wanda is sometimes like being on another planet. Anyway, we were talking and the subject of bachelorette parties came up. Trina has to host a bachelorette party for a friend of hers, and we were planning on hitting the local adult boutique, which is little more than an X-rated Spencers. When I mentioned this, Wanda was like, "Unh-unh. I will tell you the perfect place to visit. Write this down and tell them I sent you..."

Well, she gave us directions to this place called the "Rabbit Hole." It's not listed in any phone book, or even the internet. All we had was a name and an address. So last weekend, Trina, my cousin Catherine, and myself decided to go on an adventure to buy cherry flavored condoms, penis straws, handcuffs, and glow-in-the-dark body paints. Catherine is my lovely baby cousin who's only 17, but she looks 21. I knew there wouldn't be a problem getting her in to our local boutique, so I didn't think anything of bringing her to the Rabbit Hole.

This place was almost 20 miles towards the city from where we are out in the country. But we didn't exactly find it. Instead, we ended up in this industrial park just off the freeway. So we drove around for a bit and finally parked in front of a storefront with the right number, but a sign that said "Jewelers." We walked up to a locked security screen door and peeked inside. It looked like a jewelry store inside with all the display counters.

A little old lady looked up from behind one of the counters, and buzzed us in. The 3 of us slowly walked in and suspiciously eyed the place. All I could think of was that Wanda had fucked us royally. The woman said "Can I elp you?" in a thick German accent.

I said "Uhhhhhhh... I don't know. We were looking for a place called 'The Rabbit Hole,' but got your address instead. Do you know where it is?"

Suprisingly, her face lit up and she said "Achhhh! Come dis vay!"

[OK - at this point let me just say that I have absolutely NO IDEA how to write with a German accent. Just take it as read that anything this woman says sounds like it came from Ilsa - Shewolf of the SS.]

She leads us behind the counter and into a back room full of desks and filing cabinets. We kinda nod hello to a couple old women stuffing envelopes and continue following the old German lady to a curtain on the other side of the room. She pushes it aside and beckons "Dis vay. Joo meet my husband, ja?"

Well the 3 of us walk past this curtain, and I swear to you ladies and gentlemen - it was just like that moment in Willy Wonka where the kids see the inside of the candy factory for the first time. But instead of candy, there was every single sex toy, adult DVD, porn magazine, and adult costume imaginable. And the Oompa Loompas were replaced by mannequins dressed up in chain mail and nazi uniforms.

The 3 us just sort of huddled together for comfort. Looking around, it was quite obvious that we were in the dildo aisle. The walls and shelves near the curtained entrance were covered from floor to ceiling in artificial penises. There was every size, shape and color imaginable. It was this particular moment that I became painfully aware that I was standing next to my sweet, innocent, little 17 year old baby cousin.

I turned to Catherine and she was just sort of looking around wide-eyed. I said to her, "Look Catherine... this kind of place is meant for mommies and daddies who love each other very very much."

Trina looked at me and said "Awww leave her alone. She probably knows more about this stuff than either of us." To which, Catherine giggled.

Then a short, white-haired man appeared out of no where and asked us in a very thick German accent, "Ach! Oww can I elp joo ladies?"

Let me tell you, it's very disconcerting to be totally surrounded by giant rubber pricks, talking to a man who looks like he should be making shoes instead of selling dildoes, while trying to shield the eyes of your underaged cousin.

And what happens next will have to wait because I'm late for work! Sorry to leave you hanging, but I gotta go make a living.

CJ

Credit Cards

I got a funny comment the other day about how could you explain to the wife that you used the credit card to buy a gift card for a masseuse.

Credit cards are a double edged sword. It's just so easy to charge everything, as long as you don't mind the papertrail. We take credit cards here at the Business, but our policy is to use them only for the room charge. NO EXTRAS ON CREDIT CARDS.

This is for safety reasons - ours, not yours. As a mostly cash business, there is no papertrail as to what anyone spends here. The "official" books show what kind of business we've been getting, but only the room charges - no tips. And each of us usually maintains her own log on what kind of tips we've been getting.

The problem with this system though is that it doesn't apply to everyone. Guess who lets customers charge the extras? (drum roll please...) Mega Bitch Audrey of course!!! She thinks she's being slick too by running the cards when she thinks we're not paying attention. What an asshole. I don't know how many times I've had to turn away customers because WE couldn't let them use charge cards.

Another funny thing - Audrey never tried to hide the name of The Business on the charge slips. Say you came in and charged $60 for an hour session. The receipt would say our full business name - making it completely obvious what you did and where you did it!!!! Other places I've worked for used non-descriptive names like:

"Rt. 202"
"Jimmy's"
"888-555-1212"

This way, when the wife (or boss) finds your credit card statement, it looks more like a big client dinner bill than an afternoon of baby oiled delights. I can't tell you how many times I've had to handle THIS kind of phone call:

Me: This is CJ, How can I help you?
Angry Wife: What kind of business is this?
Me: This is a day spa ma'am. What can I help you with?
Angry Wife: I have my husbands credit card statement here and it says that on the 12th of March, he spent $150. What could he possibly have spent that amount on?
Me: I can't discuss credit card transactions on the phone ma'am.
Angry Wife: This is my husband! You tell me what he spent that money on!
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, I can't discuss that.
Angry Wife: Fine, then just tell me what costs $150 there.

The correct answer is of course, 2 fingers up Audrey's snatch, but I usually just end the conversation with "I'm sorry ma'am."

So if you have a snooping wife or corporate card, do yourself a favor and just use cash. Especially if you want to negotiate extras. Nothing kills the mood faster than having to pause a session just to run a credit card.

CJ

It's A Boy!!!

Congratulations to Cindy who had her baby last night!!!!! It was a bit earlier than expected, but mom and baby are doing good. Baby X was born at 11pm and weighs 7 lbs. 3 ounces. I was there, along with the Baby Daddy. I don't know him all too well, but he seems to be a good guy.

Funny story - I've been fighting the Swine Flu for a couple weeks now, and I think I'm losing. Anyway, last night after Cindy went into labor, I started to feel sick, so I ended up disappearing into the bathroom throughout much of the labor pains. Poor Mr. Baby Daddy had to deal with most of it.

So finally, I threw up my dinner and then felt better. By the time I had cleaned myself up and got back to the delivery room, Baby X was just starting to appear. I was there for the whole thing and got to see the birth, the cord, the afterbirth, I mean everything.

Afterwards, I spent a lot of time doing the obligatory phone calls, e-mails and text messages to all their friends and family. I figured it was the least I could do so they could relax and spend time with the baby. Besides, when it comes to text messages and e-mail, they're both pretty clueless.

Speaking of clueless, have you ever seen a woman with implants try to breast feed a baby? It's scary. You keep worrying that poor baby's gonna suffocate, or get crushed by a flying boob. Those things are swollen so badly that they look even more fake than before.

After things settled down, I headed home early this morning. So now I'm dead tired, and I'm working night shift. I hope I make some money tonight so I can buy that kid some presents. I don't know what kind of a mom Cindy will make, but he's damn fortunate that he has Auntie CJ to look after him. All my nieces and nephews LOVE me.

So all of tonights happy endings are dedicated to Baby X. And if any of Cindy's Regulars show up tonight, I hope I can hit them up for donations. And if any of you out there are feeling generous, please send those Babies-R-Us gift cards!!

Auntie CJ

Audrey In Love

Spring is here and love is in the air. And there must also be something in the water because Audrey has a boyfriend. Yes, I said it. Audrey the Skank Ho Bitch has a boyfriend. AND HE'S NOT EVEN A CUSTOMER THIS TIME!!!! I'm shocked too.

She hasn't given us the full details yet, so we're going on guess work. But the funny thing is that we didn't hear it first from her, we heard it through our customers. The guys who float from girl to girl are the best sources of gossip in a massage parlor, and we're no exception. Our first clue that Audrey was seeing someone was when she stopped letting guys go down on her.

Isn't that the most romantic thing you've ever heard? I guess love means not letting groups of strangers go down on you...

That was the first complaint we started hearing a couple weeks ago. Next, we heard that she had dropped her prices - again. Selfish greedy bitch. $60 for topless and $100 for mutual. $100!!!??? But as one customer put it - "She's used and abused. I ain't touchin that shit for $100." Then just last week, a customer reported that she started offering prostate massages AT NO EXTRA COST!!!!!

(For you newbies out there, a prostate massage is basically a finger up the ass. Sounds gay, but it will give you a mind blowing orgasm - guaranteed. I don't do them for customers, but the boyfriends seem to love 'em)

I guess love means it's still OK to finger a stranger's asshole.

But that's not the icing on the cake. The real clincher here that's got us all pissed off is that we discovered that Audrey has been offering a 4th option - fully clothed hand release for $20. Apparently that's why she's had so many appointments lately. These cheap ass fuckers discovered that they can get a happy ending for $20, instead of the minimum $80 that the rest of us have been charging for a topless.

I know times are bad and we all need to eat, but come on you greedy bitch. I complain about her a lot, but I think I'm justified when you discover that your boss has been stabbing you in the back. Am I right?

Sorry guys, but I had to vent to someone other than Trina. I'll try to find out more about the boyfriend to see what kind of a loser he is. But till then, remember to tip generously!!

CJ

The Craigstlist Killer

Have you guys been following this story? Apparently they just caught this fucker up in Boston who was preying on working girls he met on Craigslist. Is this fucked up or what? I mean, here are some poor girls just trying to make a living, and here comes this asshole who decides to make a thing out of beating, robbing and now killing them. The whole thing just makes me sick.

And to add insult to injury, the news keeps going on and on about how all these women were "sex workers" offering "erotic services" off of Craigslist. They said 1 of his victims was a stripper, and the other 2 were masseuses (including the 1 he killed). I know they need to make everything more sensational for the news, but would it have mattered any if they were just housekeepers or waitresses? And another thing I read that REALLY pissed me off implied that it was their fault for advertising their services on Craigslist!

Look, I'm no fan of Craigslist. In fact, I consider it the world's biggest Pimp Daddy for single-handedly selling more sex than anything else on the planet. But just because you advertise your particular service does not mean that you are any less deserving of protection from violence than anyone else. That is bullshit.

The other thing about this story that got to me was seeing the pictures of that smug little arrogant asshole after he was caught and pleaded not guilty. Here he is - a kid of privilege who got his kicks by attacking these poor girls who make a living on the legal fringe of society.

I can picture it too - he probably got his little dick rubbed by some girl he met on the internet. Then he figured that if he just beat the crap out of her and took his money back, what's she gonna do? What's the word of an internet hooker versus a student doctor? He probably figured he was above the law and could get away with it - that's why he did it at least 3 times. Luckily, the first 2 girls he robbed went to the police and they had already figured out it was him by the time he murdered the 3rd girl.

I've met this type before. Privileged rich kids who think their shit don't stink. Thank Gawd, we don't have too many of that type around here since we're mostly rednecks. But once in a while I'll get that customer who thinks you're nothing more than a whore and he treats you as such. Now in case you haven't been reading my blog very long, you haven't figured out yet that I have a very short fuse. I have a very low tolerance for assholes, and zero tolerance for arrogant assholes. More than once I've thrown guys out just for their attitude. And to make things more fun for me, I know exactly what buttons to press to make these guys feel 2 inches tall by the time they're out the door.

So here's to you Mr. Craigslist Killer... I hope you rot in jail for a long time and end up as the Bitch to a gang of very large convicts who think you have a pretty mouth. I'll bet money that you won't be thinking of picking on poor little masseuses while you're being ass-raped for the 3rd time during your daily shower. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, but I'm sure your cellmates Bubba and Tiny will do that for you.

CJ

Freak of the Week - The Peeping Tom

Not too long ago, a girlfriend of mine from another business warned me about a new thing to watch out for (as if we don't have enough to worry about already). Apparently with all these new phones with built in cameras and video recorders, customers have been trying to secretly tape their sessions.

As soon as I heard about it, I tried experiementing with a customers phone. The deal is that a customer will hide his phone in a shirt pocket with just the lens poking out. And while he's alone in the room he'll turn it on and just let it go for the entire session. We tried it a few times with the lights on and turned down. I was shocked at how much you could actually see, even with the lights turned down.

My friend warned me to watch for the tell-tale signs of a peeping tom:

1) Suspicious placement of clothing on a chair or elsewhere in room.
2) Customer lies on table in wrong direction.
3) Customer asks for lights to be left on or turned up.
4) Furniture or items that have been moved.

Well, I got one the other day. He was a new customer, but I could tell he was familiar with the whole massage thing. When I entered the room I knew something was weird. We have lockers in the rooms, so the customers can put their personal things away (I can't tell you how many times customers have accused us of stealing $$ out of their wallets before we got those lockers). They are there to protect both you AND me.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was his entire outfit hanging perfectly off the back of the chair which had been moved into the corner of the room. I remembered the signs of a peeping tom, so I didn't panic. Instead, I casually asked him if he could move his clothes to the locker. He replied that it looked "dirty" to him and he felt better keeping them out.

Strike one - damn! On to Plan B.

I picked up a fresh towel and walked over to the chair. "Well sir, I have to remind you that we are not responsible for any stains to your clothing from the massage oils that we use, and that's why we ask that you use the lockers." He didn't say anything, but just looked at me nervously.

"I apologize if the locker does not meet your standards of cleanliness and I will take care of that before my next customer. So to ensure that your clothes are protected, I'm going to use this towel to keep any massage oils that we use from coming in contact with them." And with that I unfolded the big white towel and placed it squarely over top his hanging clothes.

When his expression went from nervous to frustrated, I knew I had him. I took a quick check around the room to make sure nothing else was out of the ordinary, then I began the session. He seemed obviously distracted at first, but calmed down a few minutes into the massage. And when we were done, I made damn sure that I was fully clothed before he even had a chance to pull that towel off his clothes.

So take that as a lesson guys. Don't try any of that pervy stuff on us - unless you pay us extra! Heck, I've let guys use their cell phones to record the happy ending, but I charged them extra and even reviewed the video to make sure you couldn't see my face. I've only let 1 customer ever record an entire session, but that was a while ago and only as a special favor. I think I mentioned him in a post a while ago.

And one more thing - think before you start recording all of your little activities. It's sooooo easy to record stuff and post it on the internet nowadays. And remember - I do this for a living, so I'm not the one who's getting embarassed nearly as much as the married, father of 3 who forgets that he left that video file on his phone...

CJ

Farewell Cindy

Yesterday was Cindy's last day at work. She's due at the beginning of May, so she toughed it out till should couldn't take being on her feet anymore. We took her out to lunch and as a suprise we had them bring her an ice cream sundae with a pickle stuck in the middle of it. She thought it was funny, but didn't eat any of it. Oh well.

8 and 1/2 months pregnant and Cindy was STILL bringing in customers. Go figure. As she got bigger and bigger, her butt didn't get any wider, but her stomach got huge. From behind you could barely tell she was pregnant, and she has a small frame to begin with. And over the last couple of months, I've only seen 4 guys refuse to take her. And the ironic thing was that they were all heavyset guys too.

I don't know if it was pity or concern or whatever, but Cindy kept getting appointments and decent tips up till this past week. And get this - she still kept getting requests for mutuals!!!! Guys actually wanted to pay extra to rub that belly! I asked her about it and she said that all the guys were totally cool about it and no one asked to do anything perverted like cum on her belly or anything. And she swears up and down that her full service days are over.

Audrey hasn't said how she's going to split up Cindy's shifts, or whether she intends to hire a temp. Personally, I'd rather just pick up her extra customers. And you know how I feel about the hiring process. I guess in a way I'm gonna be sorry to see her go. I mean we started off a bit rough, but as time went by and we got to know each other again, I could see myself being friends with her.

It's just weird when you consider how much history we have and how badly it ended last time. I think what made these last few months so easy for us is that we never actually needed or expected anything from each other. I did my job and she did hers. And I think that's what made it feel like a true starting over.

So I guess a pregnant masseuse just brings out the best in most people. And that's actually kind of a nice thing to see nowadays. Keep it up guys.

CJ

The Domme

I got an e-mail the other day from a guy who wanted to mix things up, so instead of seeing a regular erotic masseuse, he saw a Dominatrix instead. Funny story which I can't tell here, but it's definitely a complete departure from your standard rub-n-tug. And not for the faint of heart.

I have an old friend I used to work with who's a professional Domme. And when I say "professional" I mean that not only did she make a living at it, she actually led the lifestyle.

Nicest woman you'd ever want to meet too. We'll call her Wanda. Just by looking at her, you'd never know it. Usually kept her hair up. Wore nice blouses or cardigans to work. A very conservative appearance which she said was sometimes necessary when she made housecalls to some of the upper crust neighborhoods of Philly.

We worked together at my last business, which was a number of years ago. Apparently she was moonlighting from her regular gig of whipping guys for money and considered the whole massage thing as a kind of vacation. Wanda lived in one of the nicer suburbs of Philly and would commute into town to her "studio" most of the week, and then commute out to the boondocks to work our business on the weekends.

Now when I say she lived the life - she lived the life. Her house - apart from being incredibly tasteful - was filled with all sorts of elegant, but scary bondage implements. It wasn't uncommon to find a rubber cat-o-nine tails lying on the kitchen counter, or see the sewing machine propped up against an iron cross. One of my favorite stories about her was when I was sitting in her living room admiring these beautifully designed crystal sculptures on her coffee table, which I later found out were very very very expensive dildos.

But that wasn't the coolest thing about her. She also had a live in slave.

Now if you pictured the leather bound Gimp from Pulp Fiction, or some sexy girl in a chainmail bikini, you'd have it all wrong. The "slave" was a woman who had been referred to Wanda for her most extreme of services - slave training. Turns out that she was this total fuck up with absolutely no self control or discipline, and Wanda took it upon herself to get this woman's life in order - basically for free.

The slaves duties were to cook, clean, shop, and do other menial errands around the house. And that was mostly it. But, as Wanda explained there was this very strict ritual to it. And all of the rules of keeping the house and attending to her "Mistress" had to be strictly adhered to, or else the riding crop came out.

I didn't quite understand myself until one day while we were chatting at the kitchen table, she demonstrated by silently raising an empty coffee cup over her head. I swear to Gawd - I have never seen a waitress move as quickly as this "slave" to grab a pot of coffee. Wanda never took her eyes off me as her cup was quickly topped off. And her big grin only proved that she took pride in her work.

And I guess this was the sort of attention to detail that Wanda brought to every aspect of this womans life. She taught her how to balance a checkbook, mantain a schedule, clean her room, get car insurance - mundane stuff like that. And after about a year of this, she was finally able to take control of her own life. She got a job, moved out and I hear is now leading the relatively "normal" life that the rest of us take for granted.

I took a session with Wanda once, just because I was curious about the whole BDSM thing. I won't get into it here, but let's just say it was very intense, and I could see why guys were willing to pay $$$ for it.

I haven't seen her in ages, but we still chat once in a blue moon. Last I heard, the economy was taking it's toll on the Domme industry too and she had resorted to bartering with some of her more loyal clients. She told me about this one guy who couldn't afford her fees anymore, so she arranged for him to perform "submissive house cleaning." He'd come over, switch to his bondage outfit, then clean her house. Meanwhile, she would dress up in thigh-highs with garter and follow him around barking orders at him. And at the end of the session (and the house was spotless) she'd give him the stockings as a reward!!!

That's what I need - a guy to come over and clean my house in exchange for a happy ending. I swear - if business gets any slower I might resort to that! LOL

CJ

Job Satisfaction, Employee Benefits, And Other Bad Puns About Getting Off On The Job - Part 3: The Big O

Finally, here is the thrilling conclusion to my confession about getting off at work. I debated for a while over whether to even talk about this or not since I haven't told ANYONE - not even Trina. So here goes... (forgive me Trina!!!!)

I don't know how many times I've faked an orgasm at work, but let me tell ya - I'm goooooood. I do the squealing, head thrashing, heavy breathing, everything. I'll even throw in the customers name (when I can remember it). The Big O isn't an extra by itself, but it's assumed when I'm asked to do any options where I play with myself. I really hate to burst some bubbles out there, but 99% of the time we're faking it in session.

When a guy pays to watch me take care of myself, I go from Ordinary Masseuse to CJ-SUPERSTAR! It's all an act for 2 reasons:

1) I am TOTALLY embarassed about what I look like during orgasm. In fact, I won't even let my boyfriends look at me when I cum. When I reach orgasm, I'll usually grab their heads and pull them down so they can't see my face. I know that sounds totally mental, but that's just how I roll.

2) When I actually do touch myself in real life, it's probably the most boring thing you've ever seen - I barely move and I make absolutely no noise. I've discovered that guys don't want reality in session - they want the whole screaming, thrashing porn star performance.

And for all those customers out there who didn't buy my act and thought they could talk me into a real one, let me know if this little scene sounds familiar?

Me: "Oh I couldn't do THAT for real!"
Them: "Come on baby, I'll make it worth your while."
Me: "Well, I've never done this for a customer before... But for you... OK!"

And a few quiet moans, sighs and a lip bite later, I was several hundred dollars richer and they were none the wiser. Maybe I should have become an actress.

Now this brings me to the deep dark secret that I've been dreading about. I've never told ANYONE this before, but yours truly - CJ - once had an orgasm during session. A really good one too. And ironically, it wasn't during one of my Oscar performances either. Let me explain...

It was during a mutual massage, and the guy had asked for a "cowgirl" release. This is where the customer lies down on his back and I straddle him like we're fucking. Then I reach my hand behind me and work his cock so to him it feels like we're actually fucking (this position goes by other names, but I call it the Cowgirl). He was a Regular that I was comfortable enough with - not a great looking guy, but really really sweet.

As I was working him with my hand, I was also bouncing up and down. So with each bounce I was stroking his cock at the same time. It wasn't like I was grinding on him either - it was just a sort of light, rhythmic fucking motion. Well, as we were pretend fucking he starts with the sexy talk. "Oh CJ... you make me feel so good... I am sooooo hot for you right now..." I told you guys before that I'm a total sucker for sexy talk, so I was just drinking it all in.

Now for an average looking guy, he had a really sexy deep voice. And I think it was the combination of the two that finally got to me. We kept in this position for several minutes. I was in no hurry for him to finish since I was enjoying myself too. He kept caressing me with that silky voice of his, "Mmmmmmmmmmm... You are just soooo sexy... don't stop you beautiful, beautiful girl..."

Suddenly I felt something was wrong. At first, it seemed like a tiny little panic attack, but something about it wasn't right. I felt funny, like there was a knot in my stomach. But it's not my stomach - it's somewhere lower. I think I feel something in my... in my... OH GAWD.

I stopped bouncing. And that's when it hit... The first wave of a giant orgasm. I think I said "oh shit" or something like that because he asked if I was OK. But I wasn't OK. I clutched at his chest with my free hand and let go of his prick at the same time. I actually had to steady myself as wave after wave of intensity washed over me. And by the time I figured out what was happening, it was already coming to an end.

I sat there, shocked for a second, before his voice reminded me I wasn't alone. "Are you sure you're OK CJ?" Now remember what I said before about being embarassed about cumming? This was no exception, and I suddenly felt very very aware of being naked in a room with a naked man underneath me. I actually ended up telling him that I didn't feel good and I had to leave - NOW. So I jumped off the table, grabbed my clothes, ran out of the room and locked myself in the bathroom. That's how embarassed (and mental) I was!

After a few minutes I calmed down, and finally went out and apologized. I explained to him that I just had a wicked stomach ache but I was OK now. I promised him a double next session, and he was OK with that. He never found out that he was the ONLY guy to ever give me an orgasm in session (and one of the few people EVER to see my orgasm face!).

But now the whole world knows and I hope Trina will forgive me for not telling her this story in person. The weird thing is that I have never had an orgasm like that since then. I've even tried recreating the exact same scenario with a boyfriend - but nothing. And the next time that same customer came in, I felt nothing. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing I guess. Darn.


CJ

Freak of the Week - The Sadistic Fuck

THIS is the story that I wanted Trina to tell last week, but she refused. So I'm gonna tell it instead because I think it needs to be said.

Trina has this Regular that's been in maybe 6 or 7 times. Definitely a Regular because whenever he comes in, he insists on seeing her and only her. To me, he just looks like some normal old guy, maybe around 60. Always wearing a sweater with nice dress shoes, like he just got back from visiting his grandkids. Hair is only slightly gray and cut very short.

At first glance you'd say he was a retired military or corporate guy. We get a lot of those around here. The guys with the decent retirement still have the cash to splurge on us once a month. And it's funny because some of these guys are like clockwork. For example, I have a retired Regular who has a standing appointment for the third wednesday of every month at 11 am. He probably tells his wife he's out golfing.

Anyway, this customer of Trina's only books a 30 minute session. According to her, when he gets in the room, he just drops his pants and sits in a chair. He doesn't want a massage. Instead, he tells her to undress and then go straight to the happy ending while he's sitting in the chair and she's kneeling in front of him. So in other words, their session is basically a 30 minute hand job.

Now that's a looooong time for anyone to keep that up, so her arms must be killing her by the end. But that's not the sadistic part of the session. Apparently, while Trina is naked on her knees working that cock with her hands, this old guy just goes on and on saying the most vile, twisted, perverted, sickest shit you can possibly imagine.

And I don't mean the typical "you're a dirty whore" stuff either. Trina refuses to talk about it now, but from what I've gathered, this sick mother fucker says the most humiliating and degrading things about her. A lot of it is along the lines of "how can you look yourself in the mirror?" or "if your mother could see you now" - kinda shit. I mean the most insulting, hurtful kind of stuff that can be said.

Trina's just sits there quietly taking it while continuing to work his dick. She isn't allowed to say anything back, or make eye contact. And this torture goes on for 30 minutes, or until he finally cums. Then he just sort of zips up and leaves while she cleans herself up.

The first time she ever had him in session, Trina said it was kinda funny for the first 10 minutes, then it felt uncomfortable before moving on to creepy. And by the end of the session it was actually starting to get to her. After he left that first time, she locked herself in the bathroom and cried. I asked her why she continues to see him if he's such an asshole. Turns out that he tips extremely good - I mean we're talking rent money good. So if Trina is willing to sell a tiny piece of her self respect each month in order to pay her bills, who am I to say anything?

Now you know me - any guy says ANYTHING that bothers me and his ass is out the door. No Regular is worth that. If a guy wants to call me a dirty whore in order to fit the mood, that's one thing. But if a guy calls me a dirty whore and MEANS it - that's something else. I can't imagine selling little bits of my soul like that for any amount of money.

I just really pisses me off to think about it. She deserves better. That's all.

CJ

Confessions of an Erotic Cripple

I'm back! Thanks to Trina for helping me out for the last week. What happened to me was incredibly stupid and I'm really embarassed to even talk about it now. But here goes...

Early last week I volunteered to go pick up my nephew after school. As I was walking down the sidewalk toward the building, I wasn't paying attention and ended up tripping on an uneven part of the sidewalk. I guess the toe of my shoe caught the edge of the concrete just right because my right foot came to a complete stop and I fell forward.

As I was falling forward, I was twisting so that the right side of my body made FULL contact with the ground. And I mean HARD. Luckily I didn't hit my head, but my right shoulder took the full impact. I was lying there on the ground, stunned at first, but then I sat up and it didn't feel like anything was broken - just bruised. The crossing guard saw the whole thing and that bitch started laughing. Ya know, there's nothing funny about falling down - unless it's happening to someone else, and then it's hilarious.

But that wasn't the hilarious part. The hilarious part was when I finally tried to get back on my feet. I kinda stumbled for a second, then took my first step and THWACK!!! It happened again!!!! Only this time, as I started to fall forward, I put my right hand out in front of me. My hand took the full force this time, then my arm bent and I slammed on my elbow. NOW my right hand is all bruised and cut, and my right elbow is sore as shit!!!

At least my legs were OK, so I was still able to pick up my nephew and drive him home. I didn't think it was too bad at first. I mean, the bleeding in my hand had stopped and I was OK to drive with my left hand. Later that night I had a few beers with some friends and I just sort of nursed my right arm and shoulder. They were sore, but I was still able to move them around.

The Next Morning (dot dot dot)

I COULD NOT LIFT MY RIGHT ARM AT ALL. My body was sore from the top of my right shoulder blade, all the way down to my hip. I couldn't bend my elbow and my right hand was black and blue. I cried for a good part of the morning as I swallowed a handful of Advil and attempted to wash and dress myself for work.

Yes, I went to work. Here I am - a total cripple who relies on her skilled hands to make a living, and I'm going to work. I was working with Cindy that first morning, so I relied on her to fetch me pillows, answer the phone and cover the front desk. I was hoping that the Advil would kick in and I'd be able to at least do some light massage, but no such luck. And by the time the door bell started ringing, I knew I had to improvise.

I had 2 customers that shift. I was hoping for Regulars who would be understanding, but I got 2 newbies instead. Well boys, you're in for a treat because about all I was capable of doing was getting naked and giving happy endings (thank Gawd I jerk lefty).

By the time I got the first guy in the room, I knew I couldn't fake my way through the massage. I explained to him my dilemma and told him that all I could really offer was a Mutual Massage. At first he didn't know what to make of me and his first ever erotic massage, but when I explained to him that the Mutual is where we take turns massaging each other (except I won't be returning the favor this time), he readily accepted. Normally I only offer Mutuals to Regulars I'm comfortable with, but I was stuck! I was only afraid that I was gonna get screwed because I charge extra for those, but he didn't seem to mind.

He took the nude option with the Mutual, so I dropped my pants with some difficulty. But when it came to the shirt I realized I couldn't lift my right arm higher than my shoulders!!! I started making whimpering noises and asked him with big puppy dog eyes if he could help take my shirt and bra off.

Surprisingly he didn't complain. In fact, he was incredibly sweet and attentive for a new guy. He gave me a pretty good massage, and even worked the sore areas under my direction. And since I couldn't switch places with him, I let him have some extra time playing with The Girls instead. That seemed to make him happy, so when it was finally time for the happy ending, he was more than ready. My left hand was fine, so I had no problem with the hand release. He left happy and even tipped me an extra $10 for my "pain and suffering." LOL

The second guy was also a newbie. I gave him the same song and dance, but added that he'd have to undress me as well. He seemed way more than happy to help out. That's when I realized that I could play the pity card and use this injury to my advantage. I thought that customers would get pissed at me for being out of commission, or at least accuse me of trying to rip them off. But for the last couple of days, everyone's been more than happy to take the Mutual option and "help me out of these clothes."

A couple of my Regulars I didn't charge extra because they've always paid the same amount, and 1 guy actually cancelled his appointment "until you get better." But in the end, this past week has turned out to be quite lucrative for a masseuse who can't actually massage.

And thanks to you guys for being so understanding these last few days. Trina said she had fun telling her story, but is in no hurry to do it again. She said writing hurts her brain.

CJ

Freak of the Week - The Narc

Hi - this is "Trina" and I am todays guest host.

"CJ" had a little accident this week and she cant use her right hand. It hasnt stopped her from working. In fact shes sitting next to me right now making jerking motions with her good left hand and laughing hysterically. She told me to write a story.

I can write whatever I want she said. CJ IS A LYING SKANK WHORE WHO BLOWS OLD MEN FOR NICKELS!!!!!

"CJ" just tried to take her computer away from me but shes a gimp right now. So HAHAHA. So here is todays story which happend to all of us here.

I am going to talk about the new "freak of the week." Not all the freaks are fun and games. Take this new guy. Hes not exactly new since hes been coming here and seeing everyone at least once. In fact he just saw "Cindy" this past week (with her giant 7 month pregnant belly). After he left we all compared notes and hes still saying the same story.

Hes a corrections officer but we all just call him "The Narc" for short. How do we know hes a corrections officer? He keeps saying it every 2 seconds. Thats all. Also Cindys seen him down at the courthouse so we know its true.

But why tell us this then expect to get your dick rubbed? There are 2 reasons why cops say this up front. The first is that its their way of saying their cool or their not trying to hide anything and we can relax around them. We get customers who say things like "I work with Officer Jones and he told me to come here". The local cops who come in and even the state cops are pretty cool and they get treated just like everyone else.

The second reason is that guys say their cops to intimidate us in the hopes that we will do whatever they say like cut our prices and do extras. The thing with this second group of guys is that it NEVER works on us. It may work on the new girls but the rest of us know that these guys are usually just really bad liars. I get one of these assholes every now and then and when I do I give them a therapeutic only.

The Narc is from the first group of guys but not in a good way. Hes been tellinge every one hes a cop in the hopes that someone will offer him full service. And it gets weirder. Hes asked everyone (including ME) to see him outside of work.

This is what happens. Hes told each of us the same story: Hes a married guy. Never cheated on his wife before. But he wants a little something on the side. Hes made the exact same offer to every one - $1000 for 6 hours of our time.

Is this the fishyest thing youve ever heard or what????!!!????!! What are you gonna do for 6 hours? And $1000? Sounds like he just pulled that number out of his ass. The whole thing just stinks. at first we all thought that this guy is some kind of serial killer but he is a corrections officer. Or maybe he does want to cheat on his wife but hes just really really bad at figuring out how to do it.

What do you people out there think? We all think hes a fucking nutjob but hes good for $150 per session so were not ready to ban him just yet. I mean he doesnt give off the serial killer vibe (as if Id know the difference). But if anyone out there has seen this scam before write "CJ" and let her know.

xoxo
"Trina"

ps..... what ever "CJ" writes about me is not true!!!!!!

Freak of the Week - The Marlboro Man

Well, I've got a good one for you this week. 2 months of basic rub and tugs, and now it's like they're coming out of the woodwork. Well, they say it never rains, but it pours...

So anyway, this story starts about 4 months ago when this guy first came in. Nothing to remember really, except that he asked me if I smoked and could he light one up in the room. Personally, I wouldn't give a shit if a customer wanted to smoke in the room, but Audrey was working with me at the time so I gave him a song and dance about how we're a "non-smoking" facility, blah blah blah.

Cut to this week. The Marlboro Man comes back and asks if I remember him. I said "kinda" so he refreshed my memory.

"Is it OK if I smoke now?" he asks with a big grin. I was like "whatever" since I was alone that shift and we were at the front desk. But instead of lighting up he just asks if we could go in session.
Once in the room, he sits me down and asks if I have any cigs. I said sure, so I told him to get comfortable and I'll be right back. I find my purse and grab 2 since I figure I'll burn one as well (The Bitch ain't here, so who cares, right?). I walk back in the room and he's sitting naked on the table. I offer him one.

"Not me... you. I'll pay you extra if you smoke in front of me." Now that's a first! I must have given him a weird look because he said "I love to watch women smoke. It's like a major turn on for me." I told him that's cool, but could we do the massage first because I felt uncomfortable dangling a lit cigarette over a naked body while I'm working.

Let me explain something here. I had a pack of the new FSC's (Fire Safety Cigarettes). These things are wild - if you stop puffing on it for whatever reason, it extinguishes itself automatically after a minute or so! So even if I just wanted to keep a lit one in the room (as an aphrodisiac for Marlboro Man), I didn't have the option.

He paid for a nude, and asked that the Happy Ending last for at least 1 entire cigarette. I agreed and got undressed. The session was pretty plain. We talked about the economy and gas prices - nothing exciting.

After I asked him to roll over onto his back, I worked his legs pretty good and noticed his dick was limp the entire time. But when I finally stopped and reached for that cigarette and lighter, I saw a definite twitch. As I fumbled with the lighter and made a big production of lighting up, his cock went from 0 to 60 - I am not kidding you. He wasn't even touching himself either!

"So how does this work?" I said since I was genuinely curious. I'm always looking for ways to improve my craft - LOL

He motioned for me to come over and stand right next to him. "Can you talk and smoke at the same time?" he asked. I nodded. "In my opinion, this is the hottest thing a woman can do."

That had me wondering. "How do you do in bars? I mean, all the women smoking in public must be a big turn on for you, right?"

He nodded a big yes. Turns out that smoking women are his fetish. There are even websites dedicated to this (guys are so weird). "Just keep talking and do your thing. All I want is to just watch you smoke. And try not to remove it from your mouth while you're talking."

There I was, puffing away while he sat up on his elbows watching me smoke. I leaned right into him and blew a big cloud right in his grinning face. I swear - he moaned just like I was blowing him! So instead of grabbing his cock, I started tugging on his balls while blowing the smoke directly at him. Now he was really getting into it. After a minute of ball play and smoke he says "Pinch my nipples with your other hand... Ohhhhhhhh... that's it..."

Now picture this - right hand pinching his nipple, left hand rubbing his cock, and my lips blowing smoke into his face. Am I good or what?

"Mmmmmmm baby, how do you like that?" I managed to say with the cigarette dangling from my lips. At that he gave out a big sigh. I figured that watching the cigarette bounce up and down while I talked was the mental equivalent of shoving a finger up his ass. This guy was totally in heaven.

I realized that he was getting off more on the smoking than on the tugging. "Fuck! you are so sexy when you do that" he practically yelled. "Uhhhh... Could you do one more thing?" Geez - my 2 hands are busy, and my mouth is already wrapped around a cigarette, so what else could he possibly want me to do? "I want you to look deep into my eyes and talk dirty while you smoke. Just whatever you do, don't stop smoking." So I slowed down the handjob and concentrated more on the talking.

"You're a dirty little boy aren't you?.. (puff puff)... And you like dirty girls who smoke... (puff puff)... You like it in your face, don't you?... (puff puff)"

Well, I managed to keep this up until I smoked that thing down to the butt. Smoking and talking at the same time is hard! I swear to you guys - I didn't realize how much I was getting into this session, because I NEVER smoke a full cigarette. Look at the coffee can outside our door - it's full of half burnt ones. When I got to the butt, I kicked the handjob into high gear and begged him to cum for me.

Even though I was losing smoke, he was still fixated on what was left of the cigarette dangling from my lips. So I gave him one last final round of dirty talk just inches from his face so he could enjoy every last little bounce of that filter. He came very loudly (luckily I was alone that night). Once it was over, I realized how light-headed I was from sucking down a while cigarette. I had to sit down, so I just kinda tossed the towel at him to clean himself up.

He thanked me something like 20 times. I guess he can't find a girlfriend to enjoy his fetish with. He asked what he owed for the "extra" and I told him "whatever" since I was still a little woozy and too embarassed to admit that I had fun too. He tipped me an extra $40.

And the funny thing is that when it was all over and I came down off my nicotine high, I knew this was going to be a great story. So I grabbed my laptop and starting writing everything down before I forgot any details. I think this blog thing is helping me to appreciate some of our "unique" customers more. When I was right in the middle of my nipple-pinching, cock-jerking, smoke-talking happy ending, I was thinking this was gonna make for a great Freak of the Week.

I guess I can only thank you guys for making me look at my job in a new light. LOL. Thanks for the encouragement! And to all you guys out there with a weird little kink - come on in so I don't run out of ideas.

CJ

Job Satisfaction, Employee Benefits, And Other Bad Puns About Getting Off On The Job - Part 2: And the Award for Best Actress Goes To...

OK... last time I talked about what secretly turns me on at work. Now today I'm gonna give away a few more secrets - but not the kind you wanna hear. Sorry guys, but today's topic is about what I secretely DON'T get off on at work.


Ya see, a lot of what I do is called ACTING. Sometimes we get these customers who want to role play, or do some minor discipline stuff, or just want to see me get off. It's all just an act. Over the years I've learned how to:


Dominate
Act like a cheerleader who's been naughty
Tie bondage knots
Pretend masterbate
Make "no" sound like "yes."


I could write tons of stuff about all the weird role playing stuff I've been asked to do, but I'll save that for more Freak of the Week stories. What I want to explain to you today is how I fake it.


Fingers
I won't finger myself for a customer, but I've mastered the art of faking it. This is a rather expensive extra that I don't mind doing. I have my whole technique down to a science. I fold my index finger in just the right way to make it look like it's been inserted. Then if I move it around fast enough (in a dark room), the customer won't be able to tell the difference.

Dildoes and Vibrators
Customers can bring in sex toys as long as they're still sealed in the original packaging. I will NOT stick anything inside me, but I'll play with them and rub them around my pussy and stuff. This is one of my most expensive extras, so please don't start dragging bags of toys to your next massage appointment. My trick with vibrators is to hold them in just such a way that they don't actually touch my clit. But I'll moan and squirm on the table like a dirty little whore all the same. I wish you could see it - my performance is worthy of an Oscar. Fuck Meryl Streep - getting a guy to believe that you're fucking yourself silly with a vibrator while he's standing just 2 feet away - THAT takes talent.

Strap-ons
In all my time here in The Business, I’ve only seen a strap-on once. It was brought in by this quiet little guy (it’s always the quiet ones, right?) who only came in once. When he first showed it to me, I thought it was just another dildo that I would have to pretend-fuck. Then he explained to me what it was really for…

“Holy shit! You want me to do WHAT?” I couldn’t believe that this guy had just walked in off the street and asked ME to fuck HIM up the ass. I swear to you I had never heard of this before. I was amazed that a device actually existed for women to do this sort of thing. Where do you guys come up with this stuff???

Anyway, we talked for a while and he discussed the mechanics of how it all worked. After the shock wore off, he asked me (more like pleaded) if I’d do it. Now normally I don’t offer to do extras for new customers, but I was intrigued by the whole idea. So a couple hundred dollars of “intrigue” later, I found myself strapping that sucker on.

I find it hard to describe. But I think the closest thing to compare it to is a power trip. I just felt this rush of being in charge because I was doing the fucking. He was on all fours and I was kneeling behind him just ramming away. Thank Gawd he couldn’t see me because I was starting to make my fuck faces – that is how much I was getting into it.

After a while he asked to change positions. That’s when I discovered that I was soaking wet! I began to panic, but luckily he was too much in his own world to notice me trying to casually clean myself. We ended the session with him on his back and me fucking him missionary style. From this position he was able to take care of himself at the same time, while I did my best not to let him know how much this was turning me on. I don’t know how you guys do it, but missionary fucking is HARD on the legs!

When it was all done, I had this weird feeling of confusion because this total stranger had just managed to get me all hot and bothered in a way I had never experienced before. I had absolutely no interest in having sex with the guy, it was just this act of pretend-fucking really turned me on. And that was the one and only time I had ever used a strap-on. I don’t think I could do that with a guy I was dating because I think part of the power trip for me was that whole humiliation thing going on. After you fuck a guy in the ass, I doubt you could look at him the same ever again. I hope that makes some sense.


............. wow.... I even felt a little funny remembering all that just now. I never saw that guy again, which may or not be a bad thing. The problem for me with getting aroused at work is that I feel like it's a loss of control. Inside that room I am in charge and nothing happens without my consent. So when something like that happens where I let myself go, I feel that loss of control which makes me feel very uncomfortable. But that's just me.


I hope I didn't burst too many bubbles today. And to all the guys who've asked about seeing me in session - ya still wanna see me now? LOL


CJ

Everything You Wanted To Know About Erotic Massage But Were Afraid To Ask

I've been getting a lot of messages lately from guys who are new to the world of erotic massage. Well, welcome to my corner of the internet where I've been talking about all the secrets, tips, code words, and tricks of the trade!

A lot of you out there tell me you enjoy reading about my adventures, but haven't tried it themselves. Some guys are scared because they've never been around masseuses before while others are worried about getting arrested. And then there's the occasional guy worried about catching something. I can assure you guys that we are harmless, there's nothing to worry about, and you should JUST DO IT. I've been getting a lot of the same questions over and over, so maybe this is a good time to go over what I've taught you guys over the past year.

So let's review:

About Me
My name is CJ and I'm an Erotic Masseuse. I provide relaxing massages with a "Happy Ending" at my Business. I started this blog because it's fun to share all these wacky stories with everyone. And in order to do this, I have to remain anonymous and can't make appointments with any of you. Sorry! This hurts me more than it hurts you since I could really really really use the business right now.

The Index
The best thing you can do is to just start reading all this crap from the beginning. But for those of you who are lazy, or just in a hurry, you can quickly catch up on all the required reading. I guess you can treat this as an index of all the good stuff.

1) For those of you completely new to the world of the "Happy Ending" the best place to start is to click here to see what happens in a typical massage session.

2) For Massage Parlor lingo and terms, click here.

3) If you want to know how to identify a massage parlor in your area, click here.

4) Once you've found a place you want to visit, click here to learn proper massage parlor etiquette.

5) For those of you who are too afraid to visit a massage parlor, click Here, Here and Here.

6) Anyone who reads this mess regularly knows that I'm totally against the Asian Massage Parlors (AMPs). It's not because I'm a racist or anything, or that I just want to trash the competition. It's just that most of the asian places around here are tied to organized crime and the girls who work there are pretty much trapped there. Click here for the full story.

7) If I still haven't convinced you yet to try an erotic massage, but would like to work your way up starting with a regular therapeutic massage, click here.

8) Now for the rest of you who ended up here by accident, Click here if you want to escape quickly before your company figures out what you're doing and fire your perverted ass.

So far the funniest case of being in the wrong place is the girl who wrote me asking if she could "contribute" something to this blog. I figured she's a colleague out there just wanting to share a couple kinky stories. Nope - turns out she's a sports massage therapist looking to practice her writing skills. I guess she did a google search for "massage therapy" and wrote to everyone who popped up. I said "Honey, unless you're jerking off the lacrosse team, I think you're in the wrong place." I haven't heard back from her since.

OK, start your reading - I'll wait.

Done? To all the newbies out there - feel free to leave comments on the old stuff. I get to see all of them and will gladly answer your questions.

Welcome everyone! So get comfortable, lie back and relax. Your CJ will take care of you. And remember - I work for tips.

CJ

Job Satisfaction, Employee Benefits, Dippin The Pen In The Company Ink, And Other Bad Puns About Getting Off On The Job - Part 1: Pushing My Buttons

I've decided to try something different. Now I'm going to share with you some real secrets that I've never shared with anyone outside of work. In fact, I'm already squirming as I write this since some of it will be news even to Trina (I'm sorry!). When I first got asked the question about whether I've ever gotten off at work, I thought I could answer that in 2 sentences. After I started writing I realized that I had enough stories to make this a multi-part series, so welcome to Part 1.

Today I'll talk about all the stuff that REALLY works on me. First of all, let me start off by saying that it is possible to turn me on during a massage. Hey - I'm only human, and when your working conditions consist of naked flesh, baby oil, moodlighting, scented candles, soft music, and lots and lots of bodily touch, it's inevitable. But for me to get turned on at work, it's more of a mental thing than a physical one. Let me explain.

The Cumshot
I love to watch men cum. The act of cum shooting from a guys penis is actually a little thrill for me. I guess part of it is knowledge of a job well done, but I'm also fascinated by the visual of the stuff just shooting out. Most guys don't believe me when I tell them this, but it's true. I would definitely consider this a job benefit.

Sexy Talk
Now this is a real secret that I've never shared with anyone outside of work. I LOVE it when a guy talks sexy to me during session. BUT ONLY IF HE’S GOOD AT IT. Now I'm not talking about dirty talk - that's a whole different thing. In fact, I consider dirty talk as an extra and sometimes charge for it. Examples of dirty talk from a customer would be:

"You fucking whore" slut, tramp, bitch, ho, skank, cunt, etc.
"You like it rough, don't ya?" or other roll playing stuff
"Jerk that cock" prick, dick, rod, pole, man meat, love stick, etc.

I'll allow a little bit of dirty talk during the happy ending if it'll help the guy finish quicker, but if he wants to focus on it and do it during the entire session, I'll charge him extra. If you think that's unfair on my part, you try listening to a guy call you a dirty cunt for an hour and see how you like it.
Now if he wants me to talk dirty to him, I'll charge even more since I don't like doing it. My typical dirty material is stuff like:

"Wanna fuck my tight little ass?"
"Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" This one's a real crowd pleaser and works well at getting a guy hard
"Cum baby... Cum on my face" mouth, pussy, tits, ass, hands, elbows, pinky toe, etc.

No - What turns me on is sexy talk, the kind that you'd do with a girlfriend. I like it when the guy says things like "...You're so beautiful... I love it when you touch me...That feels soooo good..." I know that may sound kinda corny, but I gobble that up. I guess it’s just the romantic in me. If it helps you to understand it any, think of it as a mental form of lubricant.

Now it doesn't work every time. For me to get turned on during session, I have to be really comfortable with the guy, and there has to be some kind of connection. Just being good looking doesn’t cut it. If he can make me laugh, or relax, or even just be good conversation, I'm way more likely to enjoy it. AND he has to be good at it. I can't tell you how many times I've had to tell customers to shut the hell up because they were just creeping me out with shit like:

"Who's your daddy?" What is this, 1998?
"Oh Carla..." Sheila, Tiffany, Penny, Marge, Fred, Agnes, etc. I am NOT your ex
"You're a good little girl" or any variation of the little girl theme just creeps me out
"I like your vagina" Vagina? Come on, that's just weird
"Mommy!"

The sad thing is that I can't and won't tell a guy if it's working or not. I just consider myself lucky if it's not creepy. In fact, when it does work I've found myself getting wet unintentionlly during a session. In these situations, I try to casually clean myself up without him noticing. And if I do end up getting aroused at work, I won't finish myself off - I save that for after I get home.

I don't know why I refuse to let myself go at work. Maybe it's the professional detachment that protects me from the wackos (and keeps me sane) that prevents me from doing it. Honestly, I don't feel like I'm losing an opportunity to enjoy myself, since a really stimulating session is pretty rare. But I think this is just a case of where boys are different from girls. If you told a guy it's OK to "get off" at work, he'd probably whip it out right there and blow a load all over his desk.

So those are the secrets to pushing my buttons. Too bad none of you know where I am. LOL

CJ

I FUCKING HATE SNOW

I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT!!!!!!

Its fucking 12 midnight on Monday. I got home about 10 minutes ago. What's normally a 30 minute drive to work took 2 FUCKING HOURS there and another 2 FUCKING HOURS back. And you wanna know why I drove 2 FUCKING HOURS to work and 2 FUCKING HOURS back? Because Audrey is a FUCKING GREEDY BITCH. That's why.

I called her up and told her it was gonna be a bad one today, but that bitch cunt asshole told us to go to work anyway. Monday is only 1 shift - the night shift, and I got stuck with it during the snow storm. And to make things more interesting, I had offered (for the first time) to drive Cindy to work.

So there we were - stuck in traffic and snow for 2 hours on the way in. Well, at least we had plenty of time to catch up on the last couple of years! Nothing breaks the ice better than to be locked inside of a little metal box traveling 10 miles per hour behind assholes who don't know how to drive in the snow.

Anyway.

Like I was saying, Cindy and I had more than a few minutes to kill on Monday afternoon, so I got her life story. Turns out that the money she stole from me only lasted her a few days. She had pretty much burned all her bridges over the course of a week, so she ended up doing all sorts of things to make a living. She tried her hand at bartending, waitressing, and even hooking.

I know what you're thinking and I'm just as shocked as you are. Cindy does not have the organizational skills needed to waitress. She confirmed this and added that nothing she did lasted very long. Even the hooking, she said, she wasn't very good at.

Cindy explained that she was practicing a particular kind of hooking she called "dating." This involves seeing only guys she knew: friends, ex-boyfriends, boyfriends of her girlfriends, guys from the bar, her drug dealers, and even her old probation officer! The deal was that they'd call her up and she'd come over to their place, hang out for a bit, fuck them, hang out a bit more, then leave with the cash.

But that's not the weird part about "dating." The weird part was that if she needed, say fifty bucks, to score, she would feel perfectly free to call up these guys and make "dates" with them! I was amazed by the balls it must take to call up a guy you know and just say, "Hey... If you're not busy, can I come over and blow you for $50?"

I asked her what's the cheapest thing she ever did. She said a guy once talked her down to $20 to fuck. But the one thing that made her feel the cheapest was when she blew 2 friends in a mens room for $40. This is when she realized she had a drug problem and needed help. Well Duh. Too bad she didn't realize that the day before she ripped me off.

Funny story - Apparently Cindy tried an escort service but it didn't work out. Called up one of those places in the phone book and asked if they were hiring. She talked to some guy who set her up on her first "deal" (as they in the professional prostitution industry called them). As she stood in front of a motel door, she realized that she didn't have what it takes to fuck a complete stranger.

I don't know what's worse - fucking a guy you don't know in a motel room, or blowing 2 guys you do know in a filthy mens room. I'll leave that one up to the philosophers.

I asked what it's like to fuck guys for money, and she said it's not actually that horrible. She would just turn herself to face the wall and just try to tune out till they were done. Said as long as you don't make eye contact, it's easier. Knowing the guys gave her a false sense of security - like she was somehow safer with a familiar face. I guess that kinda makes sense.

And the sessions were all pretty much the same. She'd start by blowing them. While they fucked they'd either say something along the lines of "Oh my Gawd you're so hot..." or "Take it ya fuckin' whore!" Then they'd cum and she would have to push them off her and make small talk for a little bit before heading over to her dealer. It was a routine she lived with for almost a year.

What changed it all was one day she crashed a friends car while driving high as a kite. DUI was the least of her problems, and she ended up in jail for 5 months. It was rough, she said, but at least it cleaned her up.

I managed to get all that out of her during our 2 hours to work and 2 hours back (did I mention that I spent 2 FUCKING HOURS driving to and 2 FUCKING HOURS driving from work?). I don't know if I feel any differently about her, but at least I know what to replace the "......" with when I talk about what happened to the girl who used to be my BFF.

Oh, and no customers came in on Monday.

CJ

Confessions of a Hustler Honey

We get a lot of guys in here claiming to be "photographers," but believe it or not, I've actually had a few real ones from Playboy, fashion mags and stuff. How do I know they were real? Well, the phony guys are the ones who are always "scouting" for talent, and want you to come to their room at the Best Western for some "test shots." The real McCoys tell you upfront that they only work with agencies.

Now the Playboy guy was interesting. He said that I'm probably better looking than most of the models he has to work with (mind you - this was a couple years ago). He confessed that most of the women you see in the magazine require hours of makeup, are too short to be fashion models, are a total nightmare to work with, and end up getting airbrushed anyway. He asked me if I had done any modeling before and I said no (unless you consider those pictures taken last summer at a wet T-shirt contest as "modeling"). Back then I was this young, naive girl who had a jealous boyfriend and never dreamed of leaving town, so I ended up telling him that I'd be too embarassed to do anything like that. This is one of the few opportunities in my life that I now regret not taking advantage of.

I told the guy that I could never show my face, but he said that's not a problem. This is when I learned that Playboy and other magazines use something called "body" models. Let's say that a model has a kickin' body and a butter-face. They could do photoshoots of just the body parts they like (breasts, ass, etc.) and then use them by themselves in ads and stuff. The other thing they can do (and this is the freaky thing) is that they can also digitally put my breasts on another womans body! The Playboy guy said they don't do that for the pictorials, but it's done all the time for advertisements in magazines and catalogs. If I was interested I could probably get $500 per photo session. I had to tell him "no" since I knew my boyfriend at the time would be totally against it.

Then there was the time I was contacted by a guy from Hustler magazine. Apparently a male friend of mine sent in a pic for their "Beaver Hunt" without telling me. Well LUCKILY they couldn't print anything without my permission, but I guess they found the pic interesting enough for them to try to find me. This "friend" of mine had some pics of me and a girlfriend washing our cars one hot summer day. Well, when you mix enough beer, water, suds, and bikini clad girls together, it quickly degenerates into the kind of soft porn you see on Cinemax late at night.

So out of the blue, this "friend" called me up and explained what he had done with the pics. After I finished screaming and yelling at him for an hour, I finally settled down and agreed to call the guy from Hustler. The person I ended up talking to was an editor from the magazine who wanted to put me in contact with a professional photographer.

We chatted for a bit and he said that my pics more than guaranteed me a spot in the Beaver Hunt (wow - what an honor!), but he wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing some nude modeling for ads or pictorials (apparently the actual "Honeys" are professional adult models and I would have to work my way up to that). We talked money and it turned out not to be great. But what really killed the deal was (once again) an overly jealous boyfriend.

I sat down with him afterwards to explain what happened. I had to be careful because I knew he would want to murder my "friend," so I played it up as a joke that we were both in on. He bought my story, but still gave a big "No fucking way" to the idea of me modeling nude.

Now this decision is NOT one of the ones that I regret as I look back! But every now and then when I feel like my life is a total train wreck, I think back to that phone conversation and what might have been if I had said "sure!" Who knows, maybe this blog woulda been called "Confessions Of An Aging Porn Star."

CJ