Before I was an escort, my sex-life left a lot to be desired. I stumbled through three separate sexual relationships, each one more lacklustre and unfulfilling than the last. These were not bad boyfriends; they treated me well, we had fun together, we shared lots of things in common, and our relationships were grounded on a strong foundation of friendship. However, one thing was always missing… mutual pleasure. I don’t believe that these boys were deliberately selfish in the bedroom. I think it was merely a case of being young, inexperienced, and far too zealous to reach their own happy ending, which inevitably eclipsed any awareness that I might actually like to finish too.
I do have to take responsibility for some of the blame though. Like a lot of young girls in their late teens to early 20s, I was preconditioned to view sex as a male-centric activity. It was my obligation to please him and to embody the kind of playmate that he had always dreamed of. My own pleasure didn’t deserve to be anything more than an afterthought in this endeavour. This was all about him. After all, teenage boys are the horniest creatures on the planet; he was biologically wired to have an insatiable sex drive. It was only natural that his needs trumped mine.
Yet there was always this nagging little voice in the back of my head that refused to accept this. This can’t be the best that the “wonderful” world of sex has to offer!? Surely there’s something in it for me, right? But I squashed these feelings down and tried to resume my pursuit of being the ever dutiful and devoted girlfriend. I was nothing if not obedient and accommodating. I convinced myself that feeling unsatisfied with our bedroom antics, was a small sacrifice to make in order to ensure my man was happy with me. Each of these boys was the apple of my eye at one time or another, and I would have moved heaven and earth just to make him feel like a king. Even if this meant shamelessly faking orgasms to inflate his ego. Clearly, I was a big part of the problem.
Well after two years of monotonous anticlimactic sex with my first boyfriend, we finally called it quits. That was two long years completely devoid of anything even remotely resembling foreplay and a total neglect of my raging pubescent fantasies. My sheer sexual frustration wasn’t the only reason we parted ways, but it no doubt placed a significant burden on our already delicate connection. The second boyfriend lasted only a year. Again, my growing resentment for always giving more than I received, drew a wedge between us and we amicably split. In hindsight, I can see that this was as much my fault as his. I should have spoken up; I should have just openly communicated my needs; closed mouths don’t get fed. But as more and more time passed, it became that much more difficult to express my disappointment. I felt that I wasn’t really entitled to, after letting him get used to our sex-life the way it was. The third boyfriend, well he lasted no more than a few months. I was evidently growing increasing bitter by this point; feeling more like a maid and a slave, than an equal or a lover. That poor sap had the challenge of dealing with my tightly wound, emotionally unstable, slightly neurotic split-personality. But being almost 4 years overdue for a cunnilingus-induced orgasm, will do that to a girl!
By this time, I was starting to think there was something wrong with me. In the beginning, I was this ravenous electrically-charged girl, that constantly wanted to be touched and played with. I was always in the mood, and I could hardly keep my hands off my partner. I lost track of the number of times I would wake him up in the middle of the night with a passionate sensual blow job. Where had that girl gone? It dawned on me, that after years of feeling unappreciated and with sexual pleasure being completely unreciprocated, somewhere along the line I had given up. When I wanted them to spend just a fraction of time attending to my body, I was made to feel too demanding and clingy, and so eventually I just stopped trying and lost interest. I wasn’t the same girl anymore; the fire in me had died. For about a year I considered whether I might be asexual. I had become so disillusioned by sex, and felt so forsaken by men, that out of spite I completely shut myself off to the possibility of ever trying to enjoy sex again.
Until one day, the smallest flicker of a flame sparked in the cold dark depths of my empty libido. Slowly it began to grow, thawing me out, until once again I began to fantasise about transforming into this desirable sex goddess with the power to bring men to their knees (preferably on their knees between my legs, that is).
Enter the age of Jasmine… I still remember the shock I felt when my first ever client, spent at least half of his 30-minute booking going down on me. Not only was he voluntarily and enthusiastically pleasuring me without me having to beg and plead for it, but he was also using his precious valuable booking time to make me feel good! I felt both honoured, and also guilty for laying back and letting him. I even offered him some of the money back, because I felt like I’d basically robbed him. Like the gentleman he was, he refused to take it, and as he left I couldn’t figure out why he looked so bloody happy. I chalked it up to him being a weird anomaly. I assumed it was some kind of rare fetish to want to be in service of a woman. That’s how foreign this concept of mutual pleasure was to me. How sad is that?
As the clients rolled in, it took a long time for me to accept the notion that my first client was not an exception, he was the rule. Was this real? You mean to tell me that all this time, there were men all over Perth who not only wanted to be intimate with me, but also cared about me enjoying it as much as they did? And on top of this, they felt that pleasuring me was a privilege they were willing to pay for? What!?!?
Even today, I am still surprised and humbled by the generosity of my clients in the bedroom. The majority of them make my pleasure their number one priority. They diligently and attentively figure out what I really want, and doing so seems to only add fuel to the flames of their own excitement. In fact, I would go as far as saying that the way you all spoil me, I am now quite the selfish little minx. Not only do I no longer feel guilty for letting a man go down on me all day if he wants to, but I unapologetically welcome it! What a spoilt little brat I am now. I will quite happily allow you to make the bulk of our session all about me, even though you’re also paying me handsomely for it. How cheeky is that!? I guess I’m making up for lost time.
Do you know what’s the funniest thing about it? Now that my bed is graced by lovers who want to spend their time massaging, caressing, licking, kissing, sucking, fucking and worshipping me, my lust for men is through the roof. Asexual my ass! Because of the way you gentlemen treat me, my desire to cater to your needs has multiplied ten-fold. If only my ex-boyfriends had figured out that a little bit of gallantry on their part would have been an investment with endless rewards.
From my harrowing journey, I think we can all take away two important pearls of wisdom. Firstly, as a society we sometimes paint men with the selfish brush, but actually, I think the proportion of men who are wonderfully generous lovers, is grossly underestimated. In my experience, there are far more men who get pleasure from giving pleasure, than there are men who are concerned solely with their little mate downstairs.
Secondly, I have learnt that a woman is just as capable of cultivating a voracious sex drive as a man, but ours is just a little more temperamental and prone to fluctuations based on the situation at hand. A woman’s libido has to be nurtured in a sense, before it can reach its full potential. Even with the most attentive man in her bed, some women just can’t quite seem to capture that spark that seems to be missing.
In light of this conclusion, I thought I might write a follow-up to this blog. Part 2 will offer a series of suggestions for the men who find themselves in the most unfortunate of predicaments… You have a wonderful woman in your life, but she has little to no interest in sex. Sadly, it’s all too common, and that makes it all the more tragic.
You’ve just read all about my own fumbling foray into this barren land, you’ve heard the ways my ex-lovers let me down, and also how I let myself down. But despite this tale of woe, I want you to know that a woman’s disinterest in the bedroom is not always a reflection of her partner. You could be trying your damnedest and doing all the right things, and somehow, it’s still not clicking into place. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. There could be a multitude of complex factors at play here; wheels that were set in motion long before you ever came on the scene. I know it must wreak havoc with your confidence, and make you feel terribly unappreciated, but please don’t give up.
I truly believe that we each have our own sexual niche (some of us might even have a few). If she’s apathetic about sex, then it just means that she hasn’t yet found her own unique brand of pleasure; that sexual style that makes her feel exquisitely alive. But it’s out there somewhere. It has to be! She will find it one day, and trust me, you want to be the man by her side when she does. If you are willing to patiently hold her hand on this journey, and to support her as you explore the possibilities together, I have no doubt that a whole new world will open up to you both. Maybe my next blog could even give you a nice place to start…