Real life confessions of a working girl

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  • Being paid to have sex with married men… a moral dilemma

    So, a few of the sugar daddies that I’m involved with are actually married, which I know a lot of you reading this will not approve of; however, before you go reaching for your pitchforks and chasing me out of town for being a homewrecking whore, let me just give you some context as to why I get involved with married men, and why these men seek me out in the first place. If you still want to get your pitchforks out after that, then go ahead. 

    From my perspective, all be it a very selfish one, there are many benefits to seeing married men. For one thing, they are more likely to be discreet, and less likely to want to see me in a public place; not that I mind this particularly, but being seen out with too many different men is probably not good for business, or my reputation. As a general rule, married men are not so needy, and are less likely to bombard me with messages in between our meetings; only messaging when they want to see me; leaving me alone the rest of the time. They tend to be good payers too, because they appreciate that they are paying for your discretion as well as your services, which is worth a lot when you’re married. Plus, once they’ve found a sugar baby that they can trust, they make good repeat customers, as let’s face it, the more women they see, the more likely they are to get caught or encounter an issue. As a result, they are also more likely to be ‘clean’ and take less risks with their sexual health, which is obviously beneficial for me, and one less thing to worry about. Overall, I’d have to say that I actually prefer seeing married men, because they tend to me more predictable and you know exactly where you stand with them; oddly it’s often less complicated and I tend to have less issues with my married men then I do with my single ones; that’s my experience anyway. 

    Most of the married men that I see, are older men though, and are married to women who no longer want or need sex; either because they just can’t be bothered anymore, or they have conditions or take medication that reduces the desire or the ability. For example, one of my sugar daddy’s wives has multiple sclerosis and is quite disabled, whilst another wife has not been interested in sex since she had a heart attack a few years ago… you get the idea. Undoubtedly there are lots of women in similar situations, but I don’t see them, so can only talk about what I’ve observed with my men. It must be difficult for anyone though, regardless of gender, to be married to someone who is either unable to or no longer wants to have sex; what do you do in that situation? Do you throw away an otherwise perfectly good marriage, just because you’re not getting any or you’re not happy in the bedroom? For older married men in their 60s say, who are still up for it (pun intended) but married to women who are not, it must be difficult to contemplate a life without sex, or worse, face the thought that they may never have sex again. If you consider love and sex as two separate things that are not dependant on each other, then why can’t they come from two separate people? I know for a fact that my sugar daddy whose wife has MS, absolutely dotes on her and sacrifices a lot to look after the woman he loves. I’ve met his wife and I’ve seen them together; I’ve seen how much he cares for her, and know that he is a loving and committed husband. I also know however, that seeing me, or another girl, for a few hours once a month, helps to give him the strength to continue to care for her, without resenting her for taking away something that he needs and is not ready to give up just yet. You want to convince me that what he’s doing is wrong? 

    Being someone who is genuinely interested in other people, I hear a lot about what goes on in my sugar daddies’ marriages; all be it a very one-sided and biased account, I know. Either way, I always listen and try to empathize with what they are going through, supporting my sugar daddies whilst at the same time trying to put forward the ‘female’ perspective or point of view. I do think about the wives, and often feel sorry for them, I’m not totally heartless; and I’m not afraid to tell a sugar daddy off if I think he’s being unfair to his other half, as more often than not, I’m on her side. If I can offer advice or suggest things that he can do to make things better at home, then I will always do so, as I don’t like the thought of anyone being unhappy. I know that talking to me doesn’t fix the problems at home, but for lots of men, being able to talk to a woman about their relationship can be useful. Not that I want to talk myself out of a job, but if I can help make things better at home then why wouldn’t I?  

    It seems that men (or the men I’ve dealt with anyway) don’t like to discuss their marital issues or problems with other people, and confiding in anyone too close can feel risky. I’m an outsider though, I don’t know the other person involved; making it a safe space to openly discuss things, without the fear of judgement or unwanted repercussions.  

    Unfortunately, some of my sugar daddies are in quite unhealthy relationships, and in these situations it’s very difficult to know how to help, other than to just be there. We all know the capacity for men to be abusive towards women, the ‘men are assholes’ narrative has been around for a while, I bring it out myself sometimes when I’m feeling lazy. What is less acknowledged though, is the capacity for women to mistreat men, which is probably more common than you think. Men may be physically bigger and stronger than women and therefore more likely to physically abuse their spouse, but I’ve met plenty of men who are actually quite scared of their wives; not because they get assaulted physically (although I’m aware that that does happen), but because of psychological and emotional manipulation or abuse. I’ve encountered men who have felt totally emasculated by over controlling wives, and married to women who will threaten to turn their children against them if they don’t toe the line. As well as men who feel ignored or taken for granted, pushed out by children and grandchildren, stuck in loveless marriages of convenience, their role solely to provide for those around them. One man I saw for a while was married to a woman who would become quite abusive when she’d been drinking; which unfortunately was a regular occurrence.  

    You’re probably wondering why these men don’t just up and leave? Well, as anyone who’s ever been in a difficult or unhappy relationship will know, it’s not always that easy, especially when there’s some kind of dependency, be that financial, emotional or physical; add children and grandchildren into the mix and it gets even harder to walk away. Many of the men I’ve been involved with are worried that if things go wrong, they’ll be made out to be the one who fucked up the marriage and destroyed the family; and they’re terrified of losing their relationship with their children or grandchildren. Then there’s the financial impact of a divorce and continuing to provide, especially if there are children involved; all things considered, sometimes it’s easier just to stay. My sugar daddy with the alcohol dependant wife made it very clear that he couldn’t leave her, because he recognised that she was ill and wouldn’t be able to manage without him; he felt dutybound to stay and look after her, even though he was desperately unhappy. I’m not saying that what these men are doing is right, but I understand that sometimes it can be helpful to get away for a bit, to spend time with someone empathetic and caring, somewhere where they can remember who they are, let off steam or just take refuge for a bit. One of my sugar daddies even went as far as to say that women like me (who have sex for money) actually help to keep sexless marriages together, he obviously feels that without the option of being able to get sex elsewhere, his marriage would not have lasted. Whichever way, I don’t blame these men for wanting to take a break, and I certainly don’t judge them for doing whatever they need to do in order to avoid having a complete breakdown or destroying their marriage. I guess the ultimate solution here would be for them to work things through with a trained therapist, rather than me. However, men are notoriously bad at asking for help and opening up about their feelings, and the married men I see are often of that generation when therapy just wasn’t a thing. If you think these guys are going to go to a therapist to talk about how their wives are being mean to them or making them sad, you’ve got another thing coming. Seeking comfort and compassion in the arms of another woman feels acceptable though, so there I am, their personal fuck buddy therapist.  Maybe I should get business cards….’pork and talk’, can you imagine!   

    Whilst I do have sex with married men, I do have some moral standards and therefore generally avoid getting involved with married men under the age of 50. Having sex with older married men feels more acceptable in my mind then getting involved with married men my own age (or at least I find it easier to justify). I wouldn’t feel so good about having sex with a married man in his 30s, who had a young healthy wife waiting for him at home, especially if they had children together. The likelihood of their involvement with another woman being found out and contributing to the breakup of the marriage is too great, and I would not want to be ‘that woman’. I don’t think that younger married men should feel the need to seek sex elsewhere if they are getting it at home; if you are eating at home and eating out, then you’re just being greedy (unless you have some sort of understanding or open relationship of course). Obviously, there are exceptions to every rule, but if a young married man contacted me, wanting to pay me for sex, then I’d want to understand their motivations for doing so, and have some reassurance that I wasn’t going to get caught up in some horrible situation before I got involved. 

    As for my sugar daddies’ wives, well I think women often know when their husbands are playing away, but I feel like a lot of older women, who no longer want sex, choose to turn the other cheek and will actively ignore their husbands’ indiscretions, especially if their husbands are wealthy. If you’ve been married for 40 years, have a family, a good life, and are relatively happy, is it really worth the inconvenience and heartbreak (not to mention the financial cost) of separating just because you don’t want to have sex anymore. I feel like a lot of older women would rather just not know about their husband’s indiscretions, and carry on living their lives in ignorant bliss. I know it sounds harsh, but most men like youthful attractive women, and having sex with them. It’s a bleak view maybe, but if you’re a married woman and you’re not having sex with your husband, it’s highly likely that someone else is. If that is the case, would you rather it just be a transactional arrangement with someone discreet who has no desire to destroy your family or steal your husband, or would you rather the more traditional ‘affair’, which is normally uncovered, and often ends up with the men involved leaving their wives for the other woman. I know neither is great, but I know which one I’d prefer if I really had to choose. If you are married and your husband is paying for services from someone like me, I only hope that he is at least discreet about it, and loves and respects you enough to continue to provide for you and still be ‘present’ in the marriage, whilst he has his fun on the side. I don’t believe that a man enjoying my company means that he doesn’t love or respect his wife; I think in some cases there is room for both. Not saying that all you men should rush out and get a mistress, you’re not Henry VIII, but maybe we, as a society, should look at the bigger picture when it comes to sex outside of marriage.  

    It probably sounds like this blog post is just me trying to justify my behaviour and ease my conscience, and to some extent it probably is. Like most people, I was brought up to believe that adultery is morally wrong, however I’m also a realist and can’t avoid the fact that it is unfortunately just a part of life. Sometimes we just have to face reality, and the reality is that men like sex, and will go to great lengths to get it. You may still view cheating as a bad thing, but hopefully you can at least entertain the idea that not all people who cheat are bad.     

    At the end of the day, marriages are complicated, and we never really know what goes on behind closed doors. I have done my best to explain my behaviour, I don’t encourage adultery, but I do facilitate it. I guess it’s now for you to decide whether I’m a harlot who should be burnt at the stake or not. I will say this though, another quote from the bible; ‘let him (or her) without sin cast the first stone’, which funnily enough is in reference to a woman who committed adultery, how apt! 

    Emily-rose xxx

  • Could you be a Sugar Baby?

    Think you’ve got what it takes to be a sugar baby? Here are 7 questions to help you find out…  

    1) Do you enjoy meeting and getting to know people from different backgrounds? 

    2) Can you have sex with men who you don’t fancy, and more to the point, look like you’re actually enjoying it?  

    3) Are you confident enough to get naked in front of someone you’ve just met and have sex with the light on? (Most men like to see what they’re paying for).  

    4) Are you sufficiently emotionally unavailable? (If you’re not sure, have you ever had a one-night stand and not remembered their name in the morning? If so then you’re probably fine).  

    5) Are you able to say no and set boundaries? Alternatively, if you can’t say no, are you prepared to do and take literally anything? (Because you’d better be).  

    6) Do you like money? 

    7) Do you have at least one hole that can be fucked? 

     
    If you have said yes to all the above, then congratulations, you have all the qualities needed to be a sugar baby. 

    Emily-Rose xxx
     

  • Losing my Sugar Baby virginity

    It’s early August and I’m heading up to the big city of Truro to meet Hugo; my first ever paying customer. I’m wearing a short flowery summer dress with wedged heels, over my newest black panties and bra. I’m wearing what I’ve been told to wear and have already sent Hugo a photograph of myself in both my dress and my underwear for his approval. In return I’ve received a very dashing picture of him wearing a cravat and wide brimmed hat. It’s the first time I see his face, as the picture on his profile only shows his body; he’s got a handsome face though and is the very essence of an eccentric English gentleman. 

    I could tell by his online profile that he’s a wealthy man, and his photo confirms it (only wealthy men or artists can get away with wearing a cravat). In his profile picture on the sugar daddy website, he’s wearing a very expensive looking suit, in what looks like a rather lavish house. Now, I’m not an expert on men’s clothing, but even I can tell the difference between a well-tailored suit and a cheap one; this guy is the real deal. 

    I’ve arrived early and I’m feeling nervous; quietly asking myself why I’m doing this, why I’m parked in a supermarket carpark waiting to be picked up to have sex with a man I’ve never met before. This isn’t the first time in my life that I’ve questioned my actions, but this is probably one of the riskiest things I’ve ever done. As something to do, and to calm my nerves, I go into the shop to use their facilities and buy a drink; I’m worried that if I don’t, I’ll get a ticket for leaving my car there. Honestly, of all the things to worry about in that moment, it’s not whether this guy is going to be a crazy axe murderer, but whether I’m going to get a parking ticket, funny how the mind works… You may be thinking at this point (and rightfully so) that I’m either crazy or stupid (or perhaps both), and maybe I am; although in my defence, everything happened so quickly, he only messaged me yesterday, so I hadn’t really had time to think about it. Maybe if I had, I’d have decided against it, and I’d be relaxing in the garden with a nice cup of tea instead of waiting nervously in a supermarket carpark to be collected like some click and collect weekly shop. I’m impulsive and a risk taker though, bordering on irresponsible, so here I am, ready for collection.  

    Hugo has come down to Cornwall on business, just a flying visit. He’s not staying the night, so going to take me (literally ‘take me’) outside somewhere. I have a picnic blanket in the back of the car, which he asked me to bring. I was so flustered when I left my house that I actually forgot, but thankfully my car is such a shithole that I had one in the boot anyway, along with buckets and spades, and a load of other crap. 

    He’s told me what he’ll be driving and that he’ll be pulling a trailer; I anxiously watch every vehicle that drives into the carpark. Thankfully I’m not waiting long before I spot him pull in; taking a deep breath I get out of the car, grabbing my handbag and the blanket. A tall handsome man wearing mustard yellow trousers (another wealthy man wardrobe essential), and a striped shirt is walking towards me, holding out his hand to take mine. He tells me how beautiful I look, whilst he leads me over to his Range Rover. I ask what’s in the trailer, he opens a door to show me a very impressive and expensive looking vintage car.  

    I climb into the passenger’s seat (and I mean climb, it’s a big vehicle), and he shuts the door behind me. I am now his; I have committed myself to him; the time to back out has passed. I feel butterflies in my stomach, although I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m nervous or excited. As Hugo walks around the car, I watch a family opposite us wheeling a cart full of shopping, thinking to myself, yes… whilst you go about your ordinary humdrum lives, I’m here being picked up to have sex for money. The thought excites me, and I feel a tingle between my legs. I’ve somehow slipped into some parallel universe, gone through the looking glass; and there’s no going back. 

    As evident from his messages, Hugo is well educated and well spoken, the stereotypical public-school boy. I can imagine him at Oxford or Eten, fucking a pig or whatever they do to entertain themselves there. I tell him a bit about myself (not that there’s much to tell), and in return he tells me more about himself. He’s 59 years old, he’s married, and has two grown up children. The fact that he’s married does not bother me, and I’m quick to reassure him of this; not that he’s worried obviously, he probably does this all the time. He lives somewhere on the outskirts of London, but travels all over the world for work. He’s a dealer of expensive things: vintage cars, antiques, jewellery, anything really that is worth his time. I say ‘work’, because in reality, he’s probably inherited a lot of his wealth, and does this because he can, and it gives him something to do. Today he’s driven down to Cornwall to sell the vintage car in the trailer and is driving to Switzerland tomorrow to pick up another one. My mind boggles at how someone can talk so casually about driving there and back in a day just to pick something up, it’s a lot for a country girl like me who barely leaves Cornwall, let alone the country. He explains how he will take the car out of the trailer a couple of miles from the border, drive it over, and then go back for the other vehicle in order to avoid paying export tax. As I listen, I’m reminded as to how rich people stay rich by avoiding such costs.  

    His hand is resting on my thigh as he talks and he’s admiring my long legs. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going, but heads out of town and down a maze of country lanes, until eventually he finds a large gateway big enough to park in. I think about how inconsiderate it is to block the farmer’s gateway (typical farmer’s daughter), and just hope that they don’t need access to their fields in the next hour or so; I don’t say anything to Hugo though. We climb the gate and head across the field till we reach a secluded spot. We are clearly trespassing on private property, another fact that doesn’t bother Hugo, and another observation I keep to myself. If we get caught, he can do the talking; he’s in charge. As we cross the field, he hands me an envelope, which I clumsily stuff into my handbag.  

    The countryside is beautiful, and we find a spot looking out over the valley, towards a patchwork quilt of green and yellow fields; it’s the perfect setting. I spread the blanket on the grass and lay down in the sun. For a while he just sits there admiring me, before passionately kissing me and telling me again how beautiful I am. I remove my dress and underwear, feeling the heat from the sun warming my skin. His hands start to explore my body and I close my eyes, more than happy to let him touch and caress every inch of my naked flesh. Once he’s finished exploring my body, he stands over me, and carefully removes his clothes. He kneels on the blanket, and I take his cock in my mouth. He is dominant and takes control, telling me exactly what he wants. He has sensitive nipples and wants me to squeeze and twist them, he groans with pleasure, and I feel his cock throbbing in my mouth. When this becomes too much, he turns me around and takes me on all fours. After fucking my pussy for a while, he withdraws and repositions to take me up the ass, lubing me with saliva and priming my asshole with his fingers, before entering with his cock. I’m a little taken back, but I don’t fight it, I just relax and let him enter me. Thankfully I’m no stranger to anal, but I’m still surprised at how easily it happens, it’s not normally a first date thing for me, but then I guess this isn’t a normal first date. After a while he turns me over and climbs on top of me. He enters me from the front this time, which is how he finishes, coming deep inside me, kissing me as he does so. 

    We lie in the sun for a while, composing ourselves before we dress and head back to the car. Thankfully there’s not a farmer in sight, we have gone unobserved. During the drive back Hugo takes a few work calls; one from the guy who’s buying the car. I can sense that his mind is on what needs to be done next; it’s back to business, and chasing money, playtime is over and very soon I will be but a distant memory. 

    When I eventually get back to my car, I tear open the envelope to see how much money he has given me; how much my body is worth so to speak. We never agreed a fee before meeting (rookie error), although I wouldn’t have had a clue what to charge him anyway, so maybe that was just as well. The arrangement was that he would give me a ‘nice envelope’, and make sure that it was well worth my time; and apparently that was all the encouragement I needed… 

    I take out a handful of crisp £50 notes, they look pristine and freshly pressed. I hold them up to my face and take a deep breath, they smell good! I count them out before carefully placing them back into the envelope and tucking the envelope safely into my bag. 

    I feel adventurous and sexy, and like I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. I may be going back to dishes and dirty laundry, but I don’t care. As I tackle my housework I relive my eventful afternoon, smiling to myself at my naughty secret. My life has been changed forever, no longer normal and boring but full of excitement, danger and possibility; I feel alive for the first time in a while. 

    It’s not the last time I see Hugo, although I have to wait quite a few months before I see him again, by which time I’ve seen several men and am a seasoned pro (in every sense). I haven’t seen or heard from Hugo recently, and the unfortunate truth is that I don’t know whether I will ever see him again; I don’t even know whether he’s still alive. Whatever the future holds though, he’ll always be special to me, having been my first; and I will never forget that beautiful sunny day lying naked next to him in a field in the middle of nowhere. 

    Emily-Rose xxx