Some men (who love their wives) visit escorts

Red leaf

Sometimes couples stay together because they really love each other and want to continue the personal investment they’ve made in their past and the family unit and home.

The monogamous ideas that have been passed down through the ages means that couple are obliged to only make love with each other until the end of their relationship. Yet the modern consensus agrees; why should a lady keep being intimate with her husband if she doesn’t want to? (Playing devil’s advocate here as I have my own opinions on the benefits of sex for women, specifically the benefits of orgasms).

Be honest – would you really enjoy having sex with your partner if she was not into it? Even though sometimes in marriage we do what we don’t want to, a lot of men don’t want to have sex with an unwilling partner so they don’t force the issue.

But men still have needs, even an (incomprehensible to women) need for variety. That’s why the sex industry exists. If a man has not left his wife, even though he sees escorts or his wife is no longer making love with him as often, it’s because he still loves his wife or doesn’t wish to disrupt the life they have built together. Good for him is what I say. 

Below is something that was sent to me by a man with the interesting distinction that he does not have sexual intercourse with sex workers.  This explains why and how he sees escorts.

I first visited a sex worker in 2003, soon after the decriminalisation of prostitution in New Zealand. This first encounter followed a protracted period of time during which my wife and I had very little sexual contact, even to the point where we had gone for up to a year at a time without sex. I had begun to wonder what it would be like to touch, and be touched by another woman. By this time I was a fairly regular user of internet pornography to first arouse and then quench my desires by masturbating. My thought process reasoned that if I visited a prostitute but didn’t actually have sex with her, and instead just enjoyed the physical sensation of touching her and being touched by her, wouldn’t that be like an advanced form of masturbation? If, instead of allowing myself to be aroused by a woman on screen with whom I had no connection, I allowed a real woman to arouse me but didn’t have sex with her, what harm would there be in gaining satisfaction from this woman with whom there was physical but no emotional connection? Whereas I craved physical and emotional closeness with my wife, could I not just satisfy my physical desires with someone else, in much the same way as I could on my own? Rightly or wrongly, this was the justification I used to satisfy the conflict within, that allowed me to do something I had previously considered to be out-of-bounds.

My Christian upbringing and long-held views on the sanctity of marriage and family values provided no answers to my craving for intimacy, which were dismissed by my wife as selfish impulses that took no account of her constant tiredness and worry. Though I understood in my mind the effect our household full of teenagers had on my wife’s state of mind and energy levels, I resented my wife for her lack of interest and I grew increasingly frustrated with our inability to connect intimately in spite of us sharing the same bed night after night.

In 2003 I was in a weekly commute, away from home Monday to Friday. I had no idea of how to get in contact with sex workers until one day I noticed the “Adult Entertainment” column in the local newspaper. A veritable smorgasbord of women offering sexual services was openly available to those seeking them. My first mobile phone, bought to keep in contact with the family whilst away from home, allowed me the freedom to make calls in private without the numbers appearing on the phone bill, so with trembling fingers and a racing heart I answered an advertisement placed by P*, listed as 28, attractive, with a nice personality and a 38DD bust. During our phone conversation she explained how the transaction would work, and when I said that I was not looking for sex, but more a bit of up-close-and-personal touching she was very understanding, and also told me that our age difference (at the time I was in my mid-forties) was absolutely nothing to worry about. She agreed to meet me at the roadside as her place was a sleep-out behind a residential address which wasn’t visible from the road and might prove tricky to locate. When I arrived she opened the car door, asked if she could get in, and upon my invitation sat in the passenger’s seat and we talked some more in the dark. After a few minutes during which I decided to take the next step, she led me to her little boudoir.

What she and I got up to that wintry night would hardly make the pages of an erotic novel, but as I drove away after my first experience with an escort I was smiling and feeling rather pleased with myself, confident and proud, similar to that feeling you get after a nice first date. Although I had never been with any other woman except my wife (we were both virgins when we were married, practically just out of our teens), I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get naked with P. Being aware of my nervousness, she had slowly removed our layers of winter clothing while she continued to explain what she could do followed by demonstrations of what she meant, all the while staying within my self-imposed behavioural guidelines for no sex. We caressed and cuddled. It was exciting and sensuous. When she first revealed her delightful breasts I felt honoured to be trusted with a beautiful woman who was willing to share her body with me. I could almost feel her just by admiring the view, and when I cupped her breasts and ran my hands over her skin I felt manly and wanted. I hadn’t felt that way for a long time. She never expressed any surprise or disappointment at the limits I set upon her services. She mentioned that various customers had various needs and she wasn’t about to question motives or judge anyone.

I visited P four times during the next three months, before my weekly commute came to an end. On my final visit I said I would not be able to see her again. There was no guilt or disappointment from either of us. I realised my secret little fling was over and I would now give up on tasting forbidden fruits, and she knew there were other customers she could serve who would be just as willing and able to pay for services rendered.

Having realised how easy it was to secretly visit a sex worker, and how easily available the services of escorts were via mainstream media it wasn’t long before I called another, and another. In most cases it was just for a single visit, but every once in a while I would find a welcoming lady who treated me so nicely that I would visit again. It was to be five years though, before I relaxed my rules a little and allowed myself to be relieved at the hands of a sexy, willing woman who knew well how to please a man. One of the ladies I saw on an earlier occasion insisted that the time would eventually come when I would eagerly ask for a blow job. “They all do eventually”, she’d said, though I didn’t agree at the time. I guess she knew best. It’s not that I never wanted to; it’s that I was trying to maintain a distinction between the sex life I wanted with my wife and my other private sex life with prostitutes. I figured that if I succumbed to oral sex it would be hard to keep from fucking so I had denied myself that pleasure. I kept hoping that my wife would regain an interest in sex but it still hadn’t happened, and I came to the realisation that my wife and I were well established in what some call a sex-starved marriage.

Fast-forward to 2015, 12 years since my first encounter with P. I have visited dozens and dozens of escorts, but I have still never had sex with anyone other than my wife. Some might say, as some of the ladies have, that I am being naive, even stupid, as I have already betrayed my wife’s trust and that I am already cheating by getting intimate with another woman, and that I might as well enjoy myself fully. Perhaps they’re right, and I am cheating. It’s not so black and white in my mind though. No other woman has loved me as my wife has and does, and while my behaviour may not bear witness to what I’m about to say, I love my wife too. If one of the delightful ladies that I still see occasionally told me that she was retiring and I couldn’t see her again I would wish her well and tell her that I enjoyed my time with her.

On the other hand, if my wife were to tell me that she never wanted to see me again it would be like losing a big part of myself, because we have been as one for so long. We have shared a lifetime together. I refrain from having sex with another woman because I promised my wife that I would never forsake her; that I would never give her up. It’s still important to me that I only have sex with someone I know and trust and who wants to have sex with me as an expression of love. So far that’s only been my wife. I continually run the risk that one day she will discover my clandestine activity and in the back of my mind I hold to the thought, rightly or wrongly, that I can tell her I have neither had sex with any other woman, nor have I given my heart to another woman. I have held back by keeping something special just for her, and if she ever finds out what I have been up to, I will submit to her judgement and hers only. If I’m just fooling myself, and needlessly denying myself pleasure because I’ve already gone too far, that’s my problem and nobody else needs to worry about it.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t judge anybody for the choices they make and the sexual activities they enjoy, as long as it’s all legal and safe, and nobody is harmed. As P told me on my first visit, and others have since reinforced, we all have our differing wants and desires, freedoms and limits. The only ones with judging rights are those in relationships who feel wronged by the individuals who are engaging in sexual activities with others outside the relationship.

A couple of years ago I met a more mature and experienced lady, who told me that over the years, she had filled most of the various roles that would classify as sex work. As an older man I have always preferred seeing ladies closer to my age. It took me a while to get over the fact that some of the escorts I visited early on were younger than my daughter. While they insisted it didn’t matter to them, there is something more exciting about spending time with someone who can remember things that happened more than 20 years ago, who has life experience, especially that which comes from raising children, and who perhaps understands me better than a younger woman. There’s simply more of a connection.

This particular lady offers the most sensuous experience I have ever encountered, and each time we meet there is something different and special that we share. On our first meeting, I had arrived at her place just as she was arriving as she had been out shopping and got delayed. She invited me inside and straight after we shared a welcome hug, she unzipped her coat to reveal her complete nakedness underneath. What a turn-on, knowing she had been out shopping dressed like that! But what first attracted me to her, other than her enticing advert on the NZGirls website, was her voice over the phone. Well spoken, polite and at the same time mischievous it was clear that she was intelligent as well as sensuous. She connected with my body and my mind and she openly and honestly shared herself and her story. This was getting close to the intimacy that I craved, yet missed in my marriage and I had to keep reminding myself that our arrangement, no matter how pleasurable, was primarily of the business kind. I’ve always believed in mixing business with pleasure though, and we have also met a few times where we didn’t engage in sexual activity but instead shared time together as friends would. We see each other rarely, though I do think of her often. Is this an affair? Is she my mistress? In my mind she is a woman who shares herself with me, and with others, and may be regarded as a mistress to many. She provides men like me with an experience that makes us feel like we’re special and important. Each time we meet it’s like we’re still in the early days of a blossoming relationship, just like the first-date feeling after seeing a new lady for the first time, except we both know that we’re not pursuing a deeper level of commitment from each other. And this is perhaps the key to what keeps me engaged in the sex industry.

Visiting escorts provides the ultimate in no-strings-attached sexual enjoyment, even fulfilment. The arrangement is clear in that sexual favours, whatever they may be, are exchanged for money. Of course there are now other well known opportunities for getting no-strings-attached sex, but these come with risks that one or both participants may actually be looking for attachment, and more importantly, there is no guarantee of confidentiality. I have never visited any of the larger city style brothels as they are too public for my liking. Discretion and privacy are of the utmost importance in my secret life, and private escorts provide exactly that. Again, I have no criticism of those men who are free to be more public about what they do and where they do it. My experience has been in the suburbs, where I was initially surprised at the number of private addresses and motels from which working girls ply their trade.

It’s an absolute shame that our community, in general, takes such a dim view of prostitution. This highlights an even bigger double standard than the one I bear by claiming that I wish to remain true to my wife yet at the same time getting naked and personal with other women. It’s the escorts who are the honest ones in my mind. They do what comes naturally, and offer it to paying customers and if they choose they can be as open as they like about it, while I keep it hidden from my wife, family and friends. That’s my burden, and one I carry willingly so as to protect myself, and those I care about, from the embarrassment that would follow if I was found out, because of the general societal view of prostitution. Instead of stigmatising these ladies our society should honour them because they fill a deep seated need that otherwise would remain unsatisfied. I’m told that we would be quite surprised if we all knew who used the services of these lovely ladies, and that we would be just as surprised to learn of who is offering sexual services, for some of those ladies prefer to retain their anonymity. On both sides of the transaction it could be someone you’d least expect, so don’t judge anyone offering or accepting payment for sexual services. Try to understand why they do what they do, and think about the market forces that create and sustain the sex trade. It’s those who want sex that they otherwise can’t get; their need to feel close to someone even if it’s just at a physical level that determines the shape and size of the sex industry. Sex workers meet that need and in so doing enable their customers to feel good about themselves for a time. They create a fantasy world where adults can play and indulge themselves, then return to their real and ordinary lives knowing they can relive the fantasy again and again. It’s the stuff of dreams, yet it’s a significant part of my sensuous, secret real life.

* Ladies’ names are deliberately omitted

Please leave a comment