I frequently ponder as to why I see escort girls. Part of the reason resides in my need for a sexual release. As a single man I have a relatively high sex drive and, on occasions I feel the desire to have intercourse. Although I have experienced some sensational sex with prostitutes, on many occasions (perhaps the majority) I’m left feeling that I could have obtained greater satisfaction through self masturbation. On the whole I, as with most people on this planet of ours know what arouses me and how to achieve orgasm by self stimulation in the most pleasurable way. Of course at it’s best sex with a prostitute can be more enjoyable than masturbation if the girl in question is a professional who takes pride in her work. By this I mean a sex worker who asks or instinctively knows what will turn me on (kissing among other things) and goes ahead and does what I require. However, as I said above, a lot of sex with prostitutes has been mediocre or poor, consequently there must be other factors which lead me to seek the company of ladies of the night.
Loneliness combined with sexual desire is the primary factor which leads me to use escorts. I have several close male friends however, as a hetrosexual male I feel the need for female companionship and, not to put too finer point on it, sex. Being rather shy I find it difficult to form relationships with ladies (I have had several long-term relationships, one a failed marriage and the other a year long liaison with a girlfriend), however, as stated above I do in general find it difficult to form meaningful relationships with women.
I know that seeing prostitutes will not make me happy in the sense of furnishing a warm and stable relationship with a lady who loves me and I love in return so why do I continue to use prostitutes? I often ask myself the self same question on awaking in the cold light of dawn and having to face the recollection of the night before. Sometimes my recollections are of a sweet lady who provided an excellent service however, more frequently than not the memories revolve around stilted conversation with someone with whom I have nothing in common combined with mediocre sex. Perhaps I prove the validity of Kipling’s lines “And the burnt fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the fire”. Certainly I’ve returned to the fire of escorting despite getting burnt on numerous occasions. However I have faith in myself. I am no fool. I can and will stop seeing escorts. For me happiness lies in a warm and loving relationship with a lady not in encounters with numerous working girls most of who’s names (real or working names) escape me.

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