Whippoorwill

Listing it as an amenity is strange, but nonetheless it is very helpful to know what the situation is in advance.

My husband and I could “cook” for ourselves or we can go out for a fabulous meal. We could have built our house or we could have hired a great architect. We could pick out our own clothes or we could hire a colorist/fashion consultant. Likewise why wouldn’t we hire professional courtesans who can strive to meet our every sexual desires?

Oh and I forgot to mention perhaps the most important thing…are you a skilled trained masseur? Or a hot courtesan? There is a market for either or both. Just be clear in your marketing.

Rate-setting is not a business plan; it is just one component of a business plan. You need to be clear to yourself what are your goals and objectives, time frame, limitations, etc. Is this a quick money idea, or a long term strategy? Are you truly service oriented, dedicated to pleasing others? What services are you selling, how are you planning on marketing them? What is your comparative quality and appearance? What is the venue and location? Is this rate an introductory offer (is this a first appointment rate, a 2025 rate, etc) or what? What sets you apart from the competition, etc, etc, etc? I encourage you to think deeply about this profession, be honest with yourself about your goals, advantages, and abilities, and make a decision that will work both for you and for prospective clients. If you decide it’s a “go”, I will welcome you into what can be a rewarding profession for provider and client alike.

You should have money of your own to spend without your wife supervising. For that matter, she should also. Nothing in particular to do with sexual naughties...just basic human dignity.

I haven't been back to NYC post Covid, but I have always loved the Rambles in the daytime...fresh air, no smoke, you can see what you're getting, and everybody wanting something. The only danger is running into the old ladies in tennis shoes watching birds while you're en flagrante dilicto. Even then, you ignore them, they ignore you.

I have helped two of my regular boys with resumes...they never asked but rather I volunteered. They are regulars. I like them. I want them to meet their potential, and be successful. I am happy to give away an hour of my time, and feel I have gotten it back in spades with service and/or friendship. This is of course very different from Ali's situation where he was not only asked but then haggled with over price. I would be finished with him also. In one of my instances, I rewrote the provider's advert for him. In that case I continued as a client. In the other instance, I helped the boy expand into a different profession. Like ApexNomad, I no longer felt I could have the same professional relationship with him.

Some time ago, in the 1980s, a darling British twinkie and I were an item, he visiting here, and I there. On one occasion, we were visiting York, a delightful medieval Yorkshire town. We were staying in a B & B just off The Shambles, a quintessential medieval neighborhood. Medieval folks tended to be shorter than today, and the room was quite compact. We were in a top floor garret, and our bedroom aerobatics had the top bumping his head on the ceiling while the bottom, on his back, could brace his feet against the ceiling. It didn't hold us back too much, as we quickly were running out of both condoms and lube. We found a chemist just across the street from The Minster (that glorious early medieval cathedral) and I went to find condoms while he picked out lube. This being England, such naughty things were not out in public so I had to ask the clerk...a 70ish year old white-haired matron. "I'd like some condoms", I said. "Condoms? What are they?" she replied. "Ah, er, condoms" I replied. "Condoms, what are they? How do you use them?" "Ah, er." "Just tell me how you use them." Not getting any helpful information from me, she yelled across the room to the other clerk, a matron of similar vintage, "Florence, this man wants condoms...do you know what condoms are?" Florence replies, "Condoms, what are they for? How do you use them?" At this point, the bf walks up holding a super giant economy size container of Vaseline. At which point the clerk puts 2 and 2 together, and says, "Oh, prophylactics." We soon got over the embarrassment, and roared all the way back to our garret to try out our new purchases. He and I still have a giggle over it. And every time I see York Minster in some photogenic TV mystery show, I look for that Chemist's, just across the street from the holiest site in town. I only hope in 2025, the prophylactics are self-service.

I was having my annual exam with my gay GP, and in he walzed with a stunning blond 20-something year old med student from Germany, who was on an exchange residency. He asked if I minded the visitor, chortling under his breath. Now it happens I have had a pea-sized benign lump on one testicle for years. My doc proceeded to examine, inspect, and manipulate both testicles in great detail. Then he turned my nuts over to this Teutonic beauty, who went through the same procedure several times (practice makes perfect). At which point my doc looked at me, and gave me a big knowing wink. It was all I could do not to break up laughing.

Ah yes, "the love that dare not speak its name" is now shouting from every rooftop. Strange indeed. Plus it's just boring.

Lots of very certain opinions on this thread. A couple of things occur to me. Is it not possible that some percentage of day laborers are gay/bi, just as some percentage of the entire population is? A well-tuned gaydar should allow one to make an offer to the right person that is welcomed, not exploitive. Second, having lived in California most of my life, and as a frequent Puerto Vallarta visitor, my Latino buddies long ago explained to me a common characteristic of machismo…it’s not gay if you’re the top. I’ve experienced many a “straight” trick who’d more than happily accept a blow job, but would never touch another guy’s cock, much less suck it. As a Latino friend once told me, his father said to him “I don’t care if you are gay” (in Dad’s mind, fucking a guy in the ass), but if I ever hear of you being fucked, I will murder you.” In other words, use discretion, treat everyone with respect, and don’t project our cultural values on everyone.

Mother taught me never to discuss politics or religion with “acquaintances.” You don’t know where they are coming from; you will never change their mind anyway; it only causes upset all the way around. What’s the point ? Why would I want to know?

A cock ring keeps me hard without me (or others) touching my cock…especially useful at the tubs, sex parties, sex clubs…when you want to display the goods but not necessarily going at it at the moment. As mother said, always try to look your best.

Sorry if this topic has been covered before…I searched and didn’t find it, but that surprises me. I was circumcised as an infant, but the doc left a little more skin than necessary. This has never been a problem until now in my dottage when my ears, nose, and scrotum have all gotten longer from gravity, and my cock shorter (sigh). Unless I am hard, it essentially looks like I am uncut. No problem…except the smell of Smegma. I shower daily and wipe the head of my cock after pissing. But as soon as I pull out my cock to piss, I get a strong whiff of Smegma. A good quality body soap (that works on the pits, crotch, etc.) isn’t doing it. Any recommendations what products are out there that might work? I know, I know, some of us get off on it. But I worry about broadcasting the smell across the room. I once had an uncut Swiss roommate, and as soon as you opened the dorm room you got knocked out by the smell of Smegma. It was kind of hot as a horny 20 year old, but it’s not becoming for a gentleman of a certain age in public situations.

I’d hire you in a NY minute. I think if I were you I would advertise as a side. It’s a lot easier to go up the services ladder than down. As a bottomish client I would go expecting non penetrative sex, and then try and up the game as multiple sessions engender more comfort on both sides. And for that matter, your bf may get more comfortable with time also.

I too grew up in the era when not only did everyone let it all hang out in the locker room, but swimming was nude at the YMCA, etc. In those days bathing suits were wool, with cloth belts. They pilled and gummed up the filters, so bathing suits were forbidden. I remember at age around 10, my brother and I taking in the wonder of the occasional uncut cock…what was that extra skin for? By the time I was in high school, we wore bathing trunks, but nudity in the locker rooms and gang showers was the rule. Swimming at Boy Scout camp was still naked. By the ‘80s I was living in the Castro and the gym locker rooms, saunas and steam were 100% naked and cruisey. Boyfriends of the cruisers would complain to management that their bf’s were getting it there, and management would post signs such as “masturbation causes blindness and loss of your gym membership.” I had a nice collection of those stolen signs in my garage. By the 2000’s I was going to the Y and noted that all the young guys got undressed/dressed with a towel around their waist, just like the girls at the beach. Somehow our culture has regressed to the point where young men are ashamed to be au natural.

Penis erectus conscientium non habit.

And yet something else to consider…last year I had two boys in rotation. I got to know each of them pretty well over time, and talked to each of them about the other. Next thing I knew, one of them hired the other…which I found hot replaying in my mind (and hand). Later, one moved out of town and the other retired…and recommended a new provider to me…who is now my favorite regular. Hotter yet would be the four of us together!

In the 1970s I had two gay but married-to-women friends, who needed places to trick. i gave each of them keys to my place. Every once in a while I would come home and find two wine glasses in the sink. I was always happy to know one of them had gotten what he really needed. Eventually, I told them about each other, and my house became their secret trick pad. They eventually told their wives, got divorced, and were a couple until a couple of years ago when one of them died.

I tend to see providers on a repeating basis who tend to charge just on the high side per the local market, and expect and get what I consider top notch service. I do not tip because I feel that results in an expectation. Rather I give nice cash gifts on special occasions-birthdays, holidays, vacation trips, etc. I find this can help establish a get-give parity without tying it to a specific expectation.

I have had great conversations in DMs with other clients…resulting in some great provider encounters. I find that when I am happy to share helpful details, I get helpful reports in return. Is that not the purpose of DMs? Each to their own, but full disclosure works for me.

I very much enjoy getting to know young men, and learning about what their lives are today. It helps me try and stay relevant. Some young men also want to get “Dad advice “ from someone who’s been around the block. It can be fun and beneficial for both.

I grew up in the Cold War era, so Russian soldiers always held a kind of evil fascination…strong, powerful, butch…right in line with my S&M/leather fantasies. I saw my first Russian soldier when I was 20. I was driving into East Berlin through Checkpoint Charlie. We had to get out of my red Triumph sports car while a soldier went through the interior, the trunk, under the hood…even passing a mirror under the car to see if someone was hiding in the undercarriage. Why someone would be hiding to get into, not out of, East Berlin, of course made no sense at all. But then nothing about war makes sense, does it. While he was getting his jollies looking for spies, I saw his officer’s military hat just sitting on the counter in the Checkpoint. I could have easily grabbed it, and he’d never known until I was gone and in the Eastern Sector. What a fantasy…maybe I couldn’t actually trick with a Russian soldier, but my roommate and I could fuck wearing his hat, maybe even cum all over it. As an indication of what terrible judgement a 20-year old can have, for a moment I actually considered snatching it. Prisoner sex fantasies getting fucked by the guards are hot, but the probable reality of Soviet prison quickly disabused me from pinching the cap. So we drove off into the East, bare-headed. It would be another 20 years before I had an encounter with another Soviet soldier, when I spent a month on a project in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This was the traditional land of the Uzbeks, a Turkic Central Asian Stan where the men were swarthy and their visages showed the signs that Marco Polo, Ghengis, and Tamerlane had all spilled their seed. But I digress…this is a Soviet soldier story. The Uzbek boy stories will wait until another day. This was during Perestroika, when Uzbekistan was a part of the Soviet Union, but as it turned out, not for long. It was also late spring, when it was already blisteringly hot. Most afternoons my coworkers and I would go to a large city park, with a fine tea house located within. I mean a real tea house, a beautiful tourquise domed structure where they served exotic pastries and excellent teas and coffees for just pennies. Nearby there was a rushing mountain stream, where a whole variety of people would recreate…Russian families, with grandfathers looking like they were pregnant with a cow…in their tiny “speedo-like bathing suits; high school youth, fresh from the Young Pioneers Camp, oozing sex out of every pore; and Soviet soldiers from the local garrison in their unsexy boxers…until they emerged from the water leaving little to the imagination. Sitting under a sycamore tree taking in the sights became a lovely afternoon hobby. But the real thing was close by…a smoking hot t-room. On my first visit to the park I discovered I wasn’t the only guy up for a blow and go, if not more. When you entered, the stalls were along the back wall, the sinks on the left wall, and the urinals on the right wall. No “splash guards” here…every cock in the row in full view and easy grabbing distance. And this t-room was always busy…not just a bunch of loitering queens too good to play. Eating cum out of uncut Uzbek and Russian cock became an obsession. And then one day, a door to the end stall opened, and there was a Soviet sergeant, in full uniform, rubbing his crotch. Khaki pants, shirt, and jacket; red and gold epaulets, emblazoned with the Soviet star; tall; and of course wearing the requisite hat I had once so lusted after. And as I went down on my knees, my eyes fixed on the red star on his brass belt buckle…I was about to get cock, not just any cock, but Soviet military cock. Boy would I have a story for the boys at the Eagle back home. Sarge played the part well…after a long slurping session, he turned me around, tore my pants down, and fucked me mercilessly. After I eventually caught my breath, I pulled up my pants, and staggered out if the stall, my gut happily filled with the seeds of another generation of Young Pioneers. I should have asked for his hat.

I always use my real given and family names, cell phone number, and email. I find most (but not all) providers soon give their real name, age, and other details. I had one long term provider who had his diplomas/certificates hanging on the wall. It establishes a two way level of trust that I really like. I am not ashamed, you have no reason to be, we are both exposing our bodies and the most intimate details of our sex lives to each other, we are engaged in a business relationship involving mutual trust. It definitely increases the level of intimacy for me.

Who hasn’t had a fabulous hairdresser who was fabulous…until he wasn’t? Same with providers. I am a two-boy guy. If I try a provider who is fabulous, I repeat in a couple of weeks, introducing him into the rotation. They generally keep getting more and more fabulous until they don’t. Then I can do something different to try to reintroduce the spark that was there at first, or move on to the next hottie I have been wanting to try. My experience has been good…several years of good times before it goes stale. But isn’t that one of the virtues of our hobby? If I wanted to have forever I could have sex with my husband…but we are both too bored with that.