Savage Love, Final Edit
After Mr. Black Athlete left I was done with business for the day. It’s always a good idea to end on a high note. I let poor Hank, who sat moping in the hotel lobby for hours, back into our hotel room. I decided to have a little fun with him. I was still in my Cassandra get-up and I wanted to show him how Cassandra does business. So I tackled him to the bed.
And then I raped him!
Well, mock-raped him. I pinned both his arms behind him with my right hand and then covered his mouth with my left hand. I showed him how I take my customers from behind. I told him to shut up and take it like a man. The bitch loved it — he kept giggling and screaming NO, NO, NO.
But you know for us rapists “No!” just means Tie-Me-Up-and-Fuck-Me-Harder.
After the rape we went out drinking. Throughout the night, Mr. Black Athlete kept text messaging me. I looooved the attention. I kept showing his text messages to Hank. It’s been a while since one of my customers has been so smitten with me. Did I tell you I love being adored?
His first text message read:
Thanx 4 a good time. U look way better than your pics 
What can I say… the man has very good taste. Exquisite, even. Damn, I’m good.
He followed it up with:
Hopefully there’s a next time — and I make you cum
See, Mr. Stout Man, I didn’t cum for him either. I needed the juice to see client #3, who flaked on me.
The next text message read:
You have my contact info
The one after that read:
Damn — can’t get u off my mind
And then the texts came in a flurry:
I really was floored by how attractive u are
I don’t get that intimate — unless I’m really attracted
Can I see u again before u leave town?
When will next time be?
The urgency and persistency of his text messages got me thinking. I guess you can say I had a very Carrie Bradshaw moment. Why did he become so smitten? How come more guys aren’t smitten with me after we have fantastic, earth-shattering sex? I used to get guys smitten with me all the time. What has changed?
I came to the conclusion that there IS a difference between (1) meeting someone for paid sex off of casual encounters versus (2) going to see a prostitute.
The difference is simply called a “wardrobe fund donation.”
I wrote in an earlier post about my insights (and advice) regarding the Casual Encounters section of Craigs List. If you may recall, it’s where Cassandra got her start. Before she had the balls months later to actually post under what was then called “Erotic Services,” Cassandra was just another tranny asking to meet “generous” guys. I was on Casual Encounters for just two months. Three months, tops.
In that short span of time, I met the vast majority of my regulars who continue to this day: the ones who come see me once a week (even though the economy’s so bad now no one really does it anymore), who see me once every two weeks, once a month. When Cassandra was the greenest of hookers, that’s when she met most of her steadies. A dozen in all, including the memorable ones I’ve written about: Burrito Butt, Sandwich Guy, Prada Loafers — even Tie-Me-Up. They were all casual encounter dates who agreed to “buy me a new dress.” They knew me before I was a bona-fide hooker (I know we’re splitting pubic hairs here). They met me when I still went on fishing expeditions to see who pays and who doesn’t; when I used to ask, very coyly, how much can you spend on “dinner”?
Semantics are important. Donations for dress funds are ok. Donations for dinners are ok.
But no one really wants to think they’re seeing a hooker, do they?
Tags: followup
I think you’re on to something.
“Casual encounters” would seem to have a more intimate feel to it than the “adult” section. I think that the gents who search the casual section are more emotionally available to have an intimate and passionate experience with you than the guys who search the adult section (most of whom I think are looking for little more than a good f**k.)
Your pic for this post has me weak at the knees so it’s not hard for me to understand how easy it is for you to d**k whip these poor poor fortunate guys who adore you. Your pretty smile would have me at your feet. One kiss and I would be “hooked.”
xoxo,
Brian
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Brian… I think I want my cake and to eat it too. I love regulars, steadies, but maybe a lot of them are regulars because they want something more? So maybe it’s unfair? I dunno… it’s certainly gotten me thinking though. Thanks for liking my smile. You should see my expression when you kneel before me to give me head… it’s priceless. C
Ur email toots, haven’t seen a contct on here, send it to mine if u can
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Cassandra@cassandragorgeous.com
I’m taking notes.
-Ruby
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If you’re taking notes, Ruby, don’t forget to always take the money up front when he’s a newbie. No matter how horny you are, don’t start the sex without the benjamins! xoxox cass
i think the idea of seeing a “hooker” is just an intoxicating sensation.. to give in to the primal lusty urges for pleasure’s sake alone is about as good as life gets….. the thought-bite “hooker” just starts that bell ringing (or perhaps I should say throbbing) and once bitten, the lust bug never truly releases its wicked grasp on one’s self control…
When the hell are you comin’ to the big rotten apple ?
xoxo
Marco
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Marco: I agree with you! Primal lusty urges, indeed! Do you like it up the butt or do you like giving head more? The big apple is so expensive. And it’s so far! Come out to SF — we have better Chinese food here. Can’t wait to meet you, Cass
Such personal questions !.. so glad you asked.. . Up the butt for a solid pounding is truly heaven; as much the raw slap of hips thrusting against the ass cheeks as the dizzying sensation of being “stretched and filled’ with rock hard meat as your body envelopes mine from above as you thrust away…… but I have to confess to being utterley addicted to a throat fucking extraordinaire, which i have no doubt you deliver with aplomb…a good solid length embedded down my throat until it explodes sends me into paroxisms of ecstacy…quite surprised at just how much I craved it once I’d given into its pleasures…; but for the occassional need for oxygen, I say bury it down my throat and empty it ..! damn near come just typing that … go figure. san fran here i come then… though being a family man, not entirely sure when; rest assured you’re first on my dance card.
You’re right, btw; sinfully expensive here.. if you ever feel you must visit, let me know and I’ll find something relatively economical; Decemeber ain’t the month for that, however. xoxo Marco
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Marco — that was quite a description. I have to admit I got hard reading it. You sure know how to turn on a Tgirl: a good solid length embedded down my throat until it explodes sends me into paroxisms of ecstacy…” You’ve got quite the descriptive imagination. cheers, C