Having worked at four of Nevada's legal brothels (The Bunnyranch, Kit Kat, Wild Horse and Sheri's), I can tell you that the biggest misnomer in the biz is the “hour party.”
It's amazing how often guys and girls don't take advantage of the full time — the old wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am is alive and well in the brothel scene.
I'm not quite sure why a guy, who just paid for an hour of company, would shoot his load and then want to leave with time still on the clock. Though I'm sure the mood that his girl's in has a lot to do with that.
See, a lot of brothel workers figure once a guy comes he's essentially finished and they'll exploit that by going from hot to cold — projecting a blasé attitude along the lines of, “OK, what now big guy?”
You can't totally blame them. I mean, every minute a girl is not on the floor is a potential loss of business. Not for me though. I love the sex, the company and the thrill of connecting with my guy and so I'm getting my hours worth of dick no matter what!
One of the things I do to keep post-coitis cozy is to keep it sexy. Once a guy decides to be with me, he's going to come again. That is my personal goal. So many times a guy is convinced that he's shot — that he couldn't possibly re-load. That's when I lay him back, give him a little massage, get a warm washcloth, clean his sticky wick, and begin again to touch and lick and whisper. That's when the talk gets dirty and fantasies come to light. I try to boost a man's ego — not shame him into a quick departure.
Some girls feel if they negotiate a one-hour party and send their client packing after 20 minutes, that they've somehow succeeded in something. That's easy! What is most rewarding is taking a guy back into a relaxed and sexual state and getting him to pop a second or third time. Having a man reach new heights of performance is so satisfying; and a little bit selfish too. No woman can tell me that turning a quickie into a passionate romp isn't divine.
I remember one client, “Sean,” came to the ranch to see me. I had him aroused during negotiations but once we were both naked he deflated fast. Heck, it's a good think his schlong was connected to his body or it might have zipped around the room like a runaway balloon that slipped through my fingers before I could attempt to tie it.
Sean was a mess and my attemps at “lip-o-sucktion” did nothing to inflat his ego or his eggroll and so I started talking. I know, he could have called a 900 number for that but viola! It worked!
“See?” I said, as I spun curly-cues on his chest hair (which he turned me on!) “I'm so flattered when a fan wants to fuck me. I know he's probably fantasized about it every day for months – or years! – and that turns me hotter than nothing else.”
Of course he came fast — almost immediately upon entering my wet little snatch. And of course he immediately went back to Mr. Shy Guy but I would have nothing of it. Since I knew what worked — sexy banter — I lay beside him and whispered naughty comments while juggling his balls in the palm of my hand.
He was almost apologetic when he got hard again.
This time we fucked for almost a half hour, and you know what? He was way into it. I ended up on all fours with him hammering away from behind while pulling my hair and calling me nasty names!
At the end of our hour, he'd come twice — I was sore but soothed and we were both satisfied.
And girls, that's what I call maximizing penis potential!
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