Friday, March 25, 2011

Paul Bunyan... Shiver Me Timbers!!!! - Party 2

Yes, I do realize that I just referenced two totally different tales. Paul Bunyan is the lumberjack with the axe and the blue cow, "shiver me timbers" comes from Long John Silver (although was attributed to pirate stories as early as 1835). Hopefully, you get the double entendre. We set? Good!

Paul........... (shakes head out of stupor) PAUL! Yes, Paul.

In order to picture Paul, I'm going to show two photos. If you could overlay the tattoos and hair of the anonymous male over Mark Wahlberg, add a little scruff, and pack on about another 10-15 lbs of muscle, we'll be set:

I mean, yum, right? It's the kind of guy that I'd never go for in the bar (Mark Wahlberg + more muscle, to clarify, as I definitely love a good sleeve... or two), but I surely didn't mind the view. Paul is the kind of guy that makes a Hanes T-Shirt look as good as a tailored suit.

Paul was actually in the hotel room before I got there. As a trusty regular, Mark apparently has him host parties sometimes, and let's him sleep in the room after the party's conclusion if he needs to sober up before going home. Which, he almost always does. In fact, as I introduce myself (accidentally my real self... I need to get better at remembering that I'm Amanda) and apologize for arriving after him, he says: "Hey, no worries. I've been here for a while. See, if it's a Saturday and I don't get here early, I end up drinking too much by 9 o'clock to drive myself to the parties." And with that, he pops the tab on another beer. "Want one?" I decline.

So, I set to changing my rainboots into python platform pumps, switching out regular light bulbs for red ones, setting up the snacks and mixers that I brought along. (This time, we will be prepared.) All the while I listen to the banter between the boys.

"So, it's going to be a big party tonight?"

"Oh yeah," Mark smiles, "It's gonna be huge. I've got a lot of couples coming, a couple single guys. Derek is going to be here tonight."

"Really? Ah man I love that guy." As I found out, Derek and Paul get along splendidly. They have the luck of being the most attractive men in the room at just about any party that Mark throws, and so the bouncing back and forth of ladies is not that uncommon.

"Yeah, do you remember that one time? The tall skinny Asian hostess? He was all, 'You a sub?' and she was all, 'Yes,' and then BAM!!! She's on his dick like it's her job. She left me to host the whole party by myself! Fucking crazy!" Mark looks at me, "I'm going to need to you stay professional tonight." (Oh, yes sir, of course!)

"Any girls?" Valid question fielded by Paul, in my opinion, seeing as some couples are territorial.

"Ummm... yeah. I know we got one chick, Alicia. Then this other chick Lily might be coming too." Mark's voice makes me wonder if it's a stretch."Hey! How's your girlfriend doing?"

"She's good." I'm guessing he caught my double-take, as he then turned to me and said, "See, my girlfriend used to come to these things, but it's really not her scene. So, now she just let's me go on Saturday nights. What I really need is a Saturday night girlfriend. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper."

The boys kept their blah, blah, who will be here? - blah - it's all about chemistry - blah - Daddy W's girlfriend is really hot - blah - Amanda, remember to be a professional, but if things are slow, feel free to do something provocative. (I'll do a post about my personal feelings during the party. There was one point in time in which I was quite unsettled by one of Mark's suggestions.)

Finally, the party gets started, and I quickly realize that Paul is quite a little star in his own right. Particularly due to his variety of involvements. I saw him with a couple 1, 2, 3... 5 different ways (all including the girl, but he didn't seem perturbed by the proximity of the boyfriend's genitals either - more power to him). For the majority of the time, he flowed easily from one position to the other. However, at one point Paul and the Boyfriend were attempting to do double penetration, which made me giggle, as it is quite possibly the most ungainly cumbersome position I have ever witnessed. From what I can tell, you either have to get the two guys moving in concert (highly difficult), or you have to get the girl to do all the work while the guys are stationary. In this situation, however, the girl was drunk. Very drunk. So what they ended up with was this rabbit-like see-saw. Given the awkwardness, that was dropped fairly quickly.

No worries for Paul though, because every time I thought I knew where he was, I'd look up and see him elsewhere. On the bed, on the couch, on his knees on the floor, back to the bed, and then cracking open another beer. Before I knew it, he was putting on his shirt and shoes and giving Derek a high-five. "Where are you going?" I asked, only slightly anxious at his departure.

"Carlos over there has a room, and wants me to do his girlfriend. I'll be back in like... eh... an hour?"

I'm not going to lie, the hour went very slowly for yours truly. Although Derek was entertaining from a distance, Paul had made a habit of coming to talk to me during all of his beer breaks. We talked about his previous job as a massage therapist, how things were going with his current girlfriend, his most recent romp on the bed, and the like. He gave an intense description of his favorite part of hooking up with a girl - eating her out. And, as the night went on, he moved on to a topic of unending entertainment for me, which was whether or not we were going to hook up.

"What are your nipples like?"

"What?!" Insert shocked/playful face. "I'd be super surprised if one of my friends hadn't just asked me that the other day. Why are you all so interested?"

"I just want to know. I bet yours are like silver dollars, and practically clear." He had that little smirk like he had just uncovered something.(Paul's random friend in the background: "I think they're small and brown!")

"False." Take that, Paul."The both of you."

"Well then, lemme see them."

"No! In case you couldn't tell, I'm working here." (Teeheehee, wink, playful shove.)

"Alright, after." That's when I got the puppy dog eyes. "Will you stay after the party with me?"

"Nope. Can't. I have a rental car that charges by the hour, and I've got to get it back by 4am." This is absolutely true, although most people don't start their car reservations in the middle of the night, so grabbing a couple extra hours wouldn't have been too hard to do.

"What happens if you don't bring it back?"

"I get charged a late fee." I remember hearing something awful about the late fee, but the truth of the matter is that my legs were bruised from a recent stint of pole dancing classes, and I had showed up at this party with no below-the-belt preparation. My bra was cute, for sure, since you could see it through my top, but the rest of me was not at the standard that I generally employ. (This was mostly on purpose, but also because I honestly did not think there would be anyone attractive at these parties.)

"Problem solved, I'll pay the late fee."

"Great! Now I'm a prostitute. No. We'll just have to do it some other time." (Tilted head with upturned eyes and side smile... I would say it's my signature move, except that I look hideous when I actually try to do it. Paul had actually gotten me seriously teasing.)

Anyway, this conversation was sorely missed while he was gone, and so his return brought quite a lift to my spirits. He reappeared sans couple with a big grin on his face.

"She let me cum in her mouth!!!!!!!!" It was like Christmas Day for little Paulie.

According to Paul, it had been quite a splendid hour. Carlos just sat back and watched while Paul had his way with his very attractive Brazilian girlfriend. His only interaction was to tell Paul where he wanted him to put it and to do her harder.

So, I did what any sex party hostess would do, I gave him a high five and asked for all the details. While Derek scrambled to call Carlos and head up to the room, Paul and I chit-chatted about whether or not she was a good lay.

Shortly after his return, the party slowed down to it's closing. Derek, Tim (Tiny Tim), Paul, and I reviewed our night by the bar. Mark sauntered out of the bathroom and sat himself at Paul's massage chair (Oh! Right! Paul brought his massage chair.), to which act I quickly piped up: "I'M NEXT!!!"

Nicely for me, Paul gave Mark about a 2 minute massage before beckoning me over to the chair. I stripped my top for the second time that night (first time was in encouragement and support of Lily), and commenced a beautiful 20 minute massage. All the while hearing things that girls love to hear:

"You do realize I'm trying to seduce you, right?" He'd moved onto my hands so that he could face me.

"Of course I do, and I appreciate every minute of it."

"So, you gonna stay? Are we gonna hit it?"

"Nope! I already told you, I have to get my car back."

"You heard me talking about eating a girl out. You know I'd do that for you, right? I'd have you orgasm multiple times before we even got started."

Ahem. "I heard you. It sounds lovely, but I still can't."

Finally, I guess he decided he wanted some consolation prize. To which he asked my least favorite euphemistic question of all time: "Will you kiss it?"

"Your face? Of course!"

Up next... The Rest of the Motley Crew


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Five Dollar Foot Long - Party 2

Five Dollar Foot Long, or Derek, is an exotic dancer, part-time dom, and personal trainer - not exactly in that order. Is he really a foot-long? No, but the level of pride and attention that he gives his penis would make you think it must be. To his credit, it is about 8 inches (pull out a ruler, as I am not inflating to fit the normal scale used in everyday reporting) and has a hefty girth. For that, I applaud him.

Now that I think about it, I'm not positive as to how tall he is. I was standing at about 5'10" in my heels, and he never once took off his custom cowboy boots. There's no way he hits 6 feet, but I can't be much more accurate than that as of now. He's heavily muscled, and that is no exaggeration. His body ripples in all the right places, and his presence, along with the equally impressive Paul, led to another man saying, "I didn't realize that workout regimens were part of the requirements for these parties." They were all visibly uncomfortable with his presence at first. Well, except for Daddy W, who's 27-year-old girlfriend only has eyes for him.

Eventually, if you keep looking, you hit the face. Just like the rest of his body, it has been primped and preened to the fullest extent - including the dying of his soul patch and eyebrows to match his unnaturally jet black hair. Hair that is blown straight up to slightly resemble Derek Zoolander (not kidding, as it's part of his act, and the reason for his name).

Now Derek is one of the only regulars that I had actually been told about beforehand. At a previous party, he happened to have the hostess sucking him off within 15 minutes of the start. She happened to be the only hostess that night, and never quite got herself back to her post. Mark mentions this story often to me and everyone else. It's supposed to be a lesson in "what not to do," but it happens to just be one of many stories that he repeatedly tells about Derek. There's something about the way that Mark talks about the exploits of his customers. I haven't quite figured out whether he takes pride in their conquests, or if he's propagandizing, or simply filling space. Perhaps it's all of those things.

And these parties are not the only connection that Derek and Mark have. Turns out that they work together to put on private BDSM shows. Derek finds the client interested in voyeurism and Mark finds the girl (sub) to join Derek as part of the act. Derek actually saves head shots of the girls he's worked with, and Paul and I got a flip-through of his iPhone collection after the party. The majority of them are referred to as, "sweet girls" or "sexy little things." From what I can tell, they're all in their 20's and tend to look Eastern European. I actually catch myself thinking about how I'm probably not a candidate for his shows. Not quite sure whether that hurts my pride or not.

If Derek is anything, though, he is the party ring-leader. He brings his own music, supplies his own dildos, and directs women and men alike around the bed with quite the facility. He also serves as a motivator, both through encouragement and praise. "That's hot. You're doing great, girl," he says as he watches a girl sucking off her boyfriend. He encourages Paul to go harder with Alicia, tells Lily that she's doing an amazing job on Billy's dick, and gets Tim to take his shirt off rather than just stand in the corner. With his direction, the party is a bit like a well-oiled machine. The parts move, rotate, switch - all as he stands at the side of the bed.

And the side of the bed was really where he liked to stay. As I run through my mental pictures of his night, not a single one contains him actually having penis-in-vagina sex. He almost always had a mouth suction cupped to himself or a dildo in hand, but there is not one moment I can remember in which he stuck it in. Even with the dildos, they were always inserted in the ass (covered with a condom). I wonder what it is about sex that halts him. Is it the fact that he has to be active in that scenario? That he's giving pleasure? Is it a personal hangup? Were the girls not attractive enough? Was tonight just not the night?

But, like I said, he had no problem with blow jobs, and with blow jobs he was once again the man with the plan. Women sat cross-legged next to the bed, turned towards him, and he took over from there. With his hands placed at the back of their head, he guided it back and forth, side-to-side. When he needed a change, he often pulled his dick out of their mouth and tapped it multiple times across their face. Otherwise he'd pull his dick to the side, turn the girl's head, and sit his balls on her lips until she took them into her mouth. "You like that?" he would often say, or, "That's right, take it." And take it, they did. Alicia in particular was a repeat offender.

When the party started to come to a close, the regulars stuck around to chit-chat and help clean up. For Derek, this meant a summary of all of the other people at the party.

"You see Daddy W and his chick? Goes to show what money will get you. She's beautiful, and he's got a 2 inch dick. That's what girls are like though, they want the attention, or they want the mind fuck. I just don't get it."

"That Lily could suck a dick."

"What was up with that couple? 'You can stick it in her, but only in her butt?' That's about the opposite of what I would do."

"Those two on the bench? Man they were boring, and his dick was tiny as fuck."

"You did that Brazilian chick? Dude, she was good to go! Hot thing. She still upstairs? Would she do me too? You said her guy likes to watch. Call him."

"I told Tim he needs to buy different underwear."

Before he left, I got my 10th ass slap of the night and a wink, and then got to watch those boots walk out the door.

What struck me the most throughout the night was just how much I wasn't attracted to Derek. When he said sexy things to the women of the party, I generally laughed. When he made advances, I didn't find it hard at all to play hard to get. (Paul, on the other hand, was much harder to fend off.) I was overwhelmed and turned off by this constant impression of false bravado. It was if I was watching a play that he had convinced himself was reality, despite all evidence to the contrary. I've since wondered if sex parties are really the perfect venue for men that have this quality. Those men that spend hours in the gym, hours on their hair, and buy tattoo-laden t-shirts and custom boots. The men that keep their exterior perfect, perhaps in hopes that you don't scratch the surface. A sex party, the gym, Derek's gig as a dancer - these are all areas in which he's valued for the presentation of himself, as opposed to anything more substantial.

Whatever the case, I hope to see him again, and I'm almost positive I won't be disappointed.

Up next... Paul Bunyan, Shiver Me Timbers!

- Amanda

Sunday, March 6, 2011

We interrupt the scheduled blog post due to CRAZY circumstances


I was faced with an interesting situation tonight that I frankly never thought I'd run into. And yet, run into it... or him, rather... I did. Tonight, as I was sitting at a bar with some friends (old and new), I happened to glance up at a newcomer, only to see a customer.

He knows. I know. My eyes are bugging out before I can muster the brain power to try and keep them in my head. This is a guy that I was planning on writing a whole post about, entitled "Can you smell what the Cougar is cooking?" And now he's right in front of me! He's going hear my real name, see me with my friends, and we might actually have a conversation.

Not to mention, I'm sure he is not so happy about the possible havoc I could have on him. My hostessing is not exactly a secret amongst me and my friends, and if I relax too much about it, people could easily put two-and-two together. I'm sure he's wondering if I'm just going to blurt out: "Hey, --- inch dick! How's your whipped cream loving lady?!"

To be honest, I always thought that having my a friend come to a party was way more likely than having a party goer show up in my real life would ever be. I was prepared to see my friends in compromising positions, if they so choose. Trying to have someone I've seen in a compromising position become a friend, though... leaves me more than a little lost.

So what do I do? I ignore the man the whole night. He's at the table, but he's not anywhere near me. I'm not glaring, but I'm surely not starting up conversation. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best scenario for now. Attempting anything while I'm this shocked is a horrible idea, and showing discretion is the name of the game that I'm playing.

What do you think? Will he ever come back to the parties, knowing that I might be there AND here?


Friday, March 4, 2011

Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't. - Party 1

It’s 10:00 at night, and I’m standing in a hotel room with Mark. He’s in his early 40’s, or a very rough late-30’s. He’s probably 5’9” and the first thing you notice is his eyes – Chihuahua eyes. His hair is a dark auburn and has retreated as far as possible from his now-imposing forehead. Lines dance around his face, and although he isn’t fat, his posture gives him the illusion of a paunch. He seems harmless, but I can already tell that there’s something a-creep about him. Luckily for my nerves, another hostess has vouched for him.

Well, another hostess who has ditched tonight’s party to go out with her friends after driving me to the hotel. Another hostess who was my ride home. Another hostess that is currently not my favorite person. Seeing as I’m stranded lest I grab myself a very expensive cab ride, I decide to ride out the evening and see how it goes. I know where the exits are, I have a stiletto to puncture a temple if need be, and I want to see this sex party, dangit!

Amazingly, despite having done run parties for two years, Mark seems highly unprepared. He has two red light bulbs in a room with 5 lamps, a six pack of beer, an adorable bottle of Jack Daniels, and no music or speakers.

“You got an iPod with you? Does it get loud enough to play on its own?”I hear from the other corner of the suite. He’s lucky, as I do have an iPod with me, and apparently tonight our partiers will be serenaded by my workout mix. After wandering around the room a little bit, I see that the alarm clock has an mp3 dock, plug it in, and cross my fingers that what little battery I have left will last the night.

And then… we wait. And… wait.

“Tonight will be a slow night. We’ll only have about 4 couples and one single guy.” Mark and I suck at small talk so far, so we talk business.

“Oh, okay. How many people are there normally?”

“Well, normally 15-20, but we’ve had as many as 30 people before. That night was crazy.” There’s a fair measure of pride as he tosses out the size of his parties. “But then you get some nights like tonight, where the driving conditions are crap, and things are slow. It could be good though. It’s all about the chemistry of the group.”

“Got it. And what do you need me to do? Do I take coats? We don’t seem to have drinks to give.”

“You just need to interact with people. Make them comfortable, give them someone to talk to. If this single guy tonight isn’t getting any, I need you to talk to him and make him comfortable. Keep him company so that he still has a good time at the end of the night.”He seems to be thinking about something, and follows up with, “And, I mean, if it’s a really slow night and you think the guy is hot, you can totally fuck him.”

Huh. I guess this is the equivalent of a sex party hostess’ benefits package? It’s a no on the dental insurance, but we’ve got plenty of dudes willing to fuck!

“Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but thanks!”
“I mean, don’t skirt your responsibilities, but if you want to join, you can.” Seeing as I’m still confused as to my exact ‘responsibilities,’ I decide that I’ll keep on the safe side. I don’t think being professional is necessarily the biggest deal here, but there’s got to be some level of structure to my position.

-20 Minutes of Awkward Chat Later-

“Looks like we’ve got our first couple at the bar!” Mark is up and out of his chair and heading towards the door. “I need you to come with me to get them, and tonight your name is Amanda.”

Amanda. I’m not big on the name, but I can be Amanda for one night. Maybe he’ll let me pick my own name next time.

As we walk down the hall I realize just how much of an odd couple we appear to be. He’s dressed almost all in black and appears as if he’s suffering from chronic hangover, and I’m dressed to the nines, towering over him in my heals, and rocking quite the mane of blonde hair. I wonder how much the hotel staff has figured out about us. If they don’t know something is up already, they’ll surely know on our fourth trip to the lobby to meet partiers and escort them downstairs. If they know, they don’t appear to be worried about it.

Sitting at a table in the lounge is Sheila and Greg. I’m immediately confused. Sheila has the hair of a 5-year-old girl whose mother told the hairdresser to give her child “the mop.” Her attire has a hint of not-so-sexy librarian. Greg reminds me of a previous winner of Project Runway, had poverty not been keeping him skinny. But hey, they came for sex… we’ll let them have it!

Five minutes later we’re back in the lobby grabbing Susan and Dave. Susan is adorable, and rocking a leopard print pushup bra under her low-cut black top. She’s looking jittery, but it appears that her Dave is a portly Brit that’s gone almost completely gray, and has his hand super-glued to Susan.

After making our way back into the room, all six of us take our places in the various sofas and chairs in our suite. The next thing I know, we’re talking about carpool to elementary school. As it turns out, both of our couples have children under 8, and one of the couples met at the front of their children’s school by commiserating over recent divorces.

And the communication stays vanilla, except for a quick discussion of the clubs available in a college town the next state over. I make a mental note to hit the regional rail sometime soon to check out what other venues happen to look like. From Susan and Dave’s descriptions, it would appear that they are multi-level, with dancing up top and “mingling” below.

Mark assures me we’ll have two more couples on their way, and hops up and leaves me with the couples when he gets a text message. As I talk to them about sports to look into for their kids once they get to middle school, I get psyched about the idea of more people. But… as the door opens there is only one new face – Edan. He’s somewhere in his early 30’s with circles under his eyes that make you question what you’ve always thought was black. He’s Indian, maybe… and his hair is tied back in a small pony tail. There doesn’t appear to be suave. None of these people seem suave. I start to worry about how exactly this party is going to get started.

This worry is only exacerbated when Edan is introduced: “Everyone, this is Edan,” starts Mark.

“And I’m very nervous,” Edan says with a pained smile. Great.

So, I set to work. It’s very clear that there will not be much sex going on tonight, and even if there is, Edan is not going to be in on any of it. So… time for the winning smile and the flirtatious banter in 3… 2…

“Hi! I’m Amanda. It’s so nice to meet you. Here we have Sheila, Greg, Susan, and Dave.” I wait for the shaking of hands and move myself closer to him. “How was your drive?”

And we’re back to Vanilla chit-chat. Everyone’s talking about where they’re from, as both Edan and Dave have accents that could come from England or any of its former colonies. Edan has lived just about everywhere in the world, and as far as his unclear ethnicity, it doesn’t get any clearer. I do learn that his mother is from Bangladesh.

Finally I see a hint of something. Sheila moved to Greg’s lap to make room when Edan joined us, and they appear to have moved from general cuddling to making out. It’s short, but it’s something.

Or nothing…

Still nothing…

Oh God, please let something happen.

Thank you, Sheila. “So, Greg and I are going to go have sex. If anyone wants to watch, just come on over to the other side of the television!”

They disappear to the other side of our partial-divide. Dave’s hand is still glued to Susan, and it doesn’t appear to be wandering any higher up her thigh than the general knee area. Not even with the promise of sex only dozen feet away. Every once in a while they move, but that’s only for Dave to grab a beer out of the mini-cooler that he rolled into the suite shortly after seeing that our reserves were alarmingly dry.

After a few minutes, I decide that this night can’t be a complete loss for Edan. If he’s uncomfortable, I’ll figure out how to make him comfortable. He’ll leave being able to say he made a friend, and that friend will be good old Amanda.

“Hey Edan, want to go watch with me?” I push myself up from the chair and make a sweeping gesture that says: “Come on down, y’all!”

“Uh, sure. Why not?” And he shuffles to meet me.

For the next 30 minutes Edan and I watch what can only be described as very lackluster sex punctuated by one moment of successful cunnilingus. After climax, I turned to Edan and said: “Can we clap? I feel like the man deserves a golf clap, no?”

“I don’t think that’s quite appropriate, but I also have no idea.”

“Well, let’s clap quietly then.” I begin gently clapping, and apparently catch Greg’s attention.

“You like the show?” He smirks.

“Very much so, thank you!” I respond.

Hey, I’m here to build people up, not tell them they’re boring the crap out of me.

Meanwhile, I’m learning a lot of Edan. Turns out he’s a mathematics professor at a local university. He’s just been given tenure and has decided it’s time to live a little. He’s been to California, and has a lot of advice as far as how I should approach my grad school applications in the fall. We’re chummy as the couple slowly fucks on the bed.

And then I get the question I was thinking might eventually pop up: “So, does your position as hostess allow you to participate in these parties?”

“Oh, no. I’m just here to make sure everyone has a good time. It’s strictly professional for me, though.” Again, honesty isn’t in my job description.

Greg finishes with a soft, “Ooouuuh.” I guess it’s time for the viewing party to come to an end.

As I look back to the other side of the room, I see that Susan and Dave have not moved so much as an inch in the past 3 hours.

Worst. Sex Party. Ever.

Coming up… Five Dollar Foot Long