Second-rate hotel, found by chance because it’s the holiday season. She’s lying on the bed, face up. I’m straddling her, with her legs wrapped around my head. I’m pumping her hard, while a pillow under her butt keeps her pussy tilted up.
I look at her face. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Broad jaw, perfectly shaped nose (literally, thanks to the plastic surgeon). Two eyes the color of the Sardinian sea in the morning. Full lips thanks to a perfectly done filler. Her features exude a palpable energy, as if beauty is embodied in a mysterious fluid flowing between her colored irises and mine, filling my body like a breath after a long period of apnea.
My gaze falls on her breasts: huge for her super slim body. Her abs are more than sculpted; they look like a grater. A very narrow waist adorns her wide hips, respecting the famous golden ratio (0.618), the basis of Western beauty standards since the Renaissance.
Everything about her is designed to please; the Super Goddess is the product of a careful process of enhancement, surgical, athletic, and aesthetic.
It’s one of the few elegant cases of bimbofication: that aesthetic and behavioral process where an adult chooses to present themselves, dress, make up, and surgically modify themselves to have hyper-feminine, naive, and artificial traits, inspired by a “doll girl” stereotype. Bimbo is an English word that has nothing to do with childhood: in fact, we’re talking about a real-life Barbie.
Typical elements:
Physical appearance: disproportionately large breasts, heavy makeup (big lips, emphasized eyes), doll-like hair, combat slut clothing
Behavior: deliberately naive, simple, playful, or frivolous attitudes.
Communication: simplified language, high-pitched voice, stereotypical expressions
Unlike the average Bimbo woman, she is extremely beautiful, elegant, and not vulgar. She is both beautiful (with that ethereal, sophisticated beauty) and hot (alluring, sexy, a sex machine). Both Beautiful and Hot, as the Americans would say.
Let’s face it: she is the Super Goddess, the ultimate level of beauty and hotness embodied in a single human being. She even surpasses the French Goddess (who remains, however, more finely elegant and refined). She’s the final boss, the last challenge to overcome to win the game, the final guardian to defeat to finally gain an essential skill I lack: the ability to fuck with disregard.
You know me: I’m cuddly, I care about the girl in front of me, I take care of her. Even if it’s paid, if I see she’s not into it, interested, excited… I freeze! This has caused me a thousand problems in the past because it makes me needy for confirmation, validation, reassurance.
Fucking with disregard is that fundamental skill that allows you to use the other person as a sex toy, a mere object. To be clear, it’s not what I’m looking for; I’m not interested at all. But knowing how to do it improves me in awkward situations and gives me an extra chance when I’m just looking for a fuck. It also allows me to know how to properly handle those who deserve this behavior.
Here in front of me is essentially an escort, devoid of any interest in me. I’ll tell you more: everything in her behavior conveys indifference and impatience. It’s almost like she’s doing me a favor. She does everything not to give satisfaction: while I’m banging her, she holds back moans and whimpers with all her might, she doesn’t want me to see she’s enjoying it. Her gaze is serious; she tries to communicate distance. Occasionally something gives, she strokes my hair, but stops immediately, as if regretting having given in to a moment of humanity.
Once, I would have run away offended, diminished, angry. Now I laugh it off and fuck her with satisfaction. I’m still me: I laugh and joke while I turn her over on the bed, teasing her with a few jabs, but always in a fun way:
- “For what you cost me, you could at least put in some effort: you look like a starfish!“
- “You’re not a professional: a real escort makes the client think she likes it; you make me feel like a wallet with legs. What do they teach you at Bimbo school?“
- “Yeah, yeah, you boast that everyone says you’re the blowjob goddess… I haven’t seen anything yet! You shouldn’t believe men: they’d say anything just to fuck you!“
How the fuck did I end up here?
But how did I end up with an escort, paying for it?
Let’s jump back a few days. I’m leaving New York for Miami. On Christmas Day, I met Xmas Lady, an Italian-American girl. I liked her instantly and invited her to come to Miami with me, even before we ended up in bed. I know, big risk, but my stay in New York influenced me: the average level of girls here is lower, Tinder doesn’t work at all (and they are all Latin, Black, and other ethnicities that don’t attract me). Hinge only started working after I left New York.
I did well to bring a snack from home, you’d say. Well, without taking anything away from her, who is very cute, cuddly, and adorable, as soon as I arrived in Miami, I discovered a great truth: Miami is the Premier League of pussy.
I arrive at the famous One Hotel in Miami Beach and, as soon as I enter the lobby, I feel sick: super high level, super sophisticated, runway-ready. Here the competition is fierce: an 8 who would act like a vamp in Italy goes to therapy here because she’s considered a boiler. They’re all stunning beauties, proud emanations of the gold standard of cosmetic surgery. I share my enthusiasm with the inevitable Filippo, witness and mentor of a thousand fucks.
I have less than 24 hours before Xmas Lady joins me, so I decide to make the most of them by diving into this sea of pussy before having company.. A tour de force that will lead me to sleep with three girls in twelve hours, reaching aesthetic levels never reached before. Basically, like a new Messner, I’ve climbed the Everest of pussy.
Having only a few hours, I don’t have time to meet girls organically. I decide to try sugar dating. I used to look down on it: if you’re looking for validation, paying removes all the fun, merit, and motivation. Once, I would have refused in disgust.
Today, in reality, I’m freer to evaluate every option for what it is. Do I want fun? And fun I shall have, without too many hang-ups!
And anyway, it’s happened to me several times that transactional encounters have turned into relationships, without money or with a genuine level of connection. Other times it was just like going to an escort and that’s it.
I open seeking.com, set it to Miami, and I see her:
Pronounced cheekbones, full lips, two very light eyes but with a super seductive cut. Typical Russian bitch face: austere, devoid of a smile, as if looking down on you from Olympus. Extremely slim but super muscular body, with all abs on display. Two huge tits, for which the laws of gravity seem not to apply. She’s effectively a goddess, or rather a Super Goddess.
I read the bio: she’s new to this site; she just ended a two-year relationship/arrangement. I write to her: ” I’ve also just broken up. But you don’t seem like someone who believes in love.“
She replies with an “aw lol” and leaves me her number.
Filippo the vacuum cleaner salesman
I message her from the plane while heading to Miami. Since she’s on a completely different level, I treat her not like a sugar baby but like a woman to be seduced, acting a bit too much like a charmer. I compliment her aesthetic taste. She asks how I can tell. I tell her I find her outfits extremely elegant and, at the same time, super seductive.
She asks what I have in mind.
I tell her that, normally, it would be a pleasure for me to go slowly and take all the time necessary to win her over. She deserves to be thoroughly courted. But unfortunately, my schedule doesn’t allow for this time, as I’m just passing through. So I’d be happy to get a taste of what my life would be like with her, just in one meeting, a cocktail, and if we like each other, a gift (ppm = pay per meet). Maybe it’s the start of something more long-term.
To so much romance, she responds by asking for a crazy amount that I censor for decency. A crazy amount, never even remotely paid… no way I’m accepting!
I elegantly decline with the excuse that today I’m tired and, for that crazy amount, I want to enjoy it at a more restful moment; therefore, I would contact her in the coming days. An elegant way to keep a door open, but which essentially translates into a refusal.
She insists, saying that the next few nights she’ll always be super busy and, therefore, the opportunity is only tonight. She tells me to take a nap beforehand. I don’t respond.
At this point, for fun, I write to Filippo.
Mistake.
Big mistake.
Huge mistake.
If there’s one certainty in this world, it’s that Filippo will always find a way to convince me and make me spend money. Hehe.
I try to resist, but he insists, reiterating: “When will you ever get another chance like this?”
I resist.
At this point, Filippo starts with the usual lecture (hence the name) on the energy boost… Which I still haven’t figured out exactly what it is, but with this excuse, he’s had me doing powerlifting twice a week for five years (“eh, young pussy requires a neural energy boost that only powerlifting gives you“).
Finally, the masterstroke: with a chick like that, you make more money and lose weight too!
I hesitate. I’m undecided. It’s a ton of money: once I built a well in Africa with that donation. Can I ever pay a bombshell like a well in Africa? Well… it’s still about holes, after all.
I point out that — since I’m paying — it’s easy to be generous with someone else’s money. He tells me that, at most, the only fool is me if I don’t fuck her.
Oh well, he convinced me. I play the classic role of the manipulated victim and the model student of the coach who suffers for a higher cause, as he taught me when I was his student.
I go about my day, but he fears I’ll change my mind. He’s as persistent as a vacuum cleaner salesman. He insists:
The Goddess in the flesh
Anyway, I confirm the insane amount requested to the girl and ask how I can pay. She says she accepts PayPal, iMessage, and other electronic methods. Digital slut. I set it for 10:30: I should make it in time. I get to the hotel, take a quick shower. She texts me that she’s with friends and wants me to call her a taxi.
These high-end sluts kill me: they ask for crazy money for a fuck but won’t even shell out $30 for a taxi.
I notice a recurring pattern: basically, these top sugar babies/escorts are programmed not to spend a dime and try to beg for every extra. They might have millions in their account, but they act like they don’t have a cent. A poverty mindset, devoid of any dignity, that sees the other person as an ATM for daily expenses. I’m baffled. I can understand someone selling their body. In the end, there are those who do much worse: think of party journalists or politicians who sell their brains and souls for money. But this undignified begging attitude really gets to me.
Anyway, I open Uber and enter her street name. Except I get the city wrong. She notices, tells me, and I call Uber again. Then the driver goes to the opposite pick-up point. And she can’t move her little butt. So she texts me to tell the driver about the problem. I write to the driver. He doesn’t give a damn and leaves. The girl gets pissed and complains to me. I snap and tell her, annoyed, that having someone 6,000 km away call an Uber is bullshit, that I’m not her secretary, that she has hands too, and she can organize it herself.
She changes her tone, says it’s not my fault, moves her ass, and finds herself an Uber (still paid for by me, though, the beggar!).
Anyway: she finally arrives at the hotel. I go down to get her. She goes to the wrong staircase, the idiot. Finally, I spot her and… Good God, she is hot.
She shows up in a tiny, ass-grazing miniskirt. A corset—yes, you heard right, a corset!—that emphasizes her thin waist and, at the same time, pushes her tettes up like two atomic bombs ready to explode. Two melons that pull my gaze like the gravitational field of a black hole attracts any object from millions of miles away.
I go up to her and say hello. She returns my greeting without smiling and follows me. I have a doubt it’s not her: she looks hotter in person… maybe she’s another escort looking for a client. I show her her WhatsApp profile picture and say: “I’m waiting for this person”.
Her: “Yes, it’s me“.
Me: “Are you sure?“
Her: “Yes“.
Okay, she must know who she is. We go up to the room.
We sit down and I try to make conversation.
For an hour.
During which I try to get to know her.
To spark some kind of connection.
Nothing: she’s cold, polite but detached, devoid of any interest.
She doesn’t ask questions. She lets me do everything. She’s just there waiting for me to do something, but it’s not clear what.
It surprises me, though, that she’s in no hurry: in the end, it’s also in her interest to finish as soon as possible and be done with me. Instead, she’s there, impassive, watching me. She looks like a cat playing with a mouse. My impression is that she’s enjoying the situation.
In the end, I give up: if you want to be treated like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.
I approach, kiss her, she asks how I want to pay her. Great start.
Now, it’s not easy to send a crazy amount on PayPal from a foreign country, with the associated SIM lacking coverage. All possible alarms go off. It basically takes me 20 minutes to transfer the money. Meanwhile, she connects her phone to the TV and puts on a nice Spotify playlist.
Undoubtedly, this girl has taste: in dressing (incredible outfit!), in music, in the composition of the photos she takes or has taken.
In the end, part of the amount will come from my personal account, part from my sub-holding. I imagine the accountant when he asks me for the invoice. I tell her, we laugh, I lift her up and throw her on the bed.
I undress her, touch her: she’s wet. I spend a good ten minutes licking her tits (“you really like them!”, she says). I take her hand and place it on my dick (“eh, I have to do everything here!“). She starts jerking me off while I finger her. I place a pillow under her ass, penetrate her.
“My dick is hard“, I think.
I’m a bit surprised: I had anticipated not being able to get an erection. I’ve never gone out to fuck someone with zero connection. I had anticipated paying this crazy amount just for a blowjob in the end. Instead, my majority partner down there responds quite well.
She does everything not to show pleasure, even though occasionally some poorly concealed moan and some stolen facial expression betray her.
I fuck her for about ten minutes, then in the end I think I’m tired and that’s enough. I ask her for a blowjob, she “maybe later“. She’s really pathetic: crazy amount and not even a blowjob!
Amen, I pretend to come, pull out the condom and check that it’s intact.
I tell her to get dressed (maybe she was expecting round 2, I don’t know).
I approach her sweetly and with absolute calm and say:
“Allow me a piece of advice, since you’re new to this site. Choose people you like.
It’s true you’re here for the money, but you’re so beautiful that you have the chance to choose someone you really like.
It’s more fun for you“.
She looks at me puzzled, seems not to understand. Finally, she replies: “But I like you!“
“Ah, I honestly thought you didn’t“.
” No, I like you. You have the features of a Greek god“.
This Greek God thing is becoming a recurring theme. Either they all read my blog or there might be some truth to it. I hope at least it’s a good god, like Apollo, and not that half-deformed monster Hephaestus. In fact – now that I think about it – they’ve never specified which god it is!
Mythological digressions aside, I already don’t believe much of what a woman tells me… let alone a paid escort.
But I think she’s sincere. After all, she never showed a single moment of kindness, sweetness, or desire to please. She’s always been the detached bitch… why would she start lying now?
Anyway, this time whether she likes me or not doesn’t change anything for me.
I kindly invite her to sleep over, boasting about being the Four Seasons of comfortable sleep, the Teddy Bear of restful slumber (Thanks FrenchFoxy, love you). She politely declines: she prefers to go to her room to do her skincare. I walk her out and throw myself on the bed.
The effect of beauty on the male
The sex was mediocre, but I feel happy.
Incredibly energetic.
Euphoric.
Lucky.
It’s incredible the effect female beauty has on a man. Filippo was right with that nonsense about the energy boost. I feel like Ulysses the day after waking up in Ithaca.
I start sending voice messages in a flurry:
I write:
“
So, Filippo. If you hear me complaining about my life, about missing love, my ex, Ninfetta or Piccolina… hit me. But beat me bloody, with maximum ferocity, so hard it leaves marks and scars for life. Just hit me hit me hit me because I deserve it!
and I insist:
Damn it! This calls for a curse! You know I never swear! Damn X! Damn X! Damn X and damn Y. Damn Y and damn X! I hope I made myself clear, damn Y!
What an atomic bombshell she was! What a fabulous face. What a fabulous body! You could crack coconuts on her abs, you should have seen what a core she had! She was drop-dead gorgeous!
I proceed to recount the experience:
Then okay, sexually boring. She didn’t make a sound. Having sex with her is mortifying, it gives you no satisfaction. She’s a goddess, convinced she’s a goddess, looking down on everyone. She seemed like a dead animal, just responding to kisses.
And, finally:
But how great is it to have money. I’ve always made money for the pleasure of making it, but today I discover that spending money on women is even better! What well-spent money. I want to make more, so I can spend more! Damn, what an atomic bombshell! I want to become a sheikh!
Wow, what an experience!
Damn, the next girl who tries to act all high and mighty with me, I’ll send her photos of this one and shut her up! Crazy amount well spent…
I might just call her back and have sex with her again!
Thanks for this advice you gave me!
How happy I am to have met you and that 6 years ago you gave me this exercise of paid sex! How great it is to be me.
You changed my life, like Jesus. Jesus who passes by and says “I’ll make you a fisher of men.”
Here, you passed by and told me “I’ll make you a fisher of whores!”. Magnificent Apostle the Pimp!
What a nice solo vacation!
Well, I’m going to bed happy, convinced I’ll never see this girl again. And yet… next episode coming soon!
“`
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