I hired a male sex worker- here's what happened

By Kali Magdala

Sex sells, and I don’t personally know anyone who would dispute that. But given how much all goddess’ creatures like to thrust and ride, I find it hard to understand how 99.% of all sex-selling (my own personal estimate based on intuition and observation) speaks to and for men. 

Equal access is sexy, but rare 

Montreal, which has been my home for a very long time now, is touted as the sex tourism capital of North America, or “The Sin City of the North.” This means that business-classy professionals, frat boys, American men in particular, and curious/horny men in general, can, at any time, day or night, choose from an endless selection of women and services, and be pleased in a myriad colorful (or conventional) ways. Services are as varied as the women who provide them, and most offer the potential for a full exchange of sex for pay: from endless strip clubs, to escort agencies, to erotic massage parlors. The few establishments that employ male sex workers cater mostly to gay men. 

But I’ve seen some things. And I’m pretty certain that the same (sex & power) imbalance exists in most other places on earth.

That time I paid for sexual favors 

That time I set out to find an “erotic massage” intended for me, a straight girl? I found the following (online): a smattering of one-man operations catering to women who have trouble achieving orgasm or inhabiting their sexual bodies. Often tantric-centric. I found the language used generally irritating because it seemed to make the assumption that a woman’s pussy could be empowered by the hands of a man. 

I called one up. I was horny. That is the only reason. I get cocks offered to me on the daily—do not get me wrong. But...I was turned on and honestly intrigued by the idea of paying for sex. Men get to do it all the time. 

How safe is buying sex when you’re a woman? 

So, like I said. Called one up. He wouldn’t send a picture of his face. Seemed legit enough, though. Said he’d made a career for himself pleasing lady celebrities. Hmmm. But my spidey sense said it was safe enough. I had to take the subway to the end of the world and meet him there. His face was totally ok, but I knew in an instant that it wasn’t the face of someone who could get me off. Nonetheless, I got in the stranger’s car to go to his “studio,” AKA his house. 

I felt super freaking weird, not gonna lie. But I felt compelled, the entire time, to see the scenario through. And although I resented him and society in general for making it so that women can’t access the same pleasure playground that men can literally get delivered to their doorsteps without essentially risking their lives...I never actually felt unsafe. And I feel unsafe in all kinds of lesser scenarios, so I guess his vibe was just honest. 

Gendered inequality is the worst cock block 

Lying naked on his table, I felt aroused, the entire time. He was good with his hands, no doubt. But when it came time to let him make me cum...I simply couldn’t allow it. The experience hadn’t inspired me to open my openings quite that wide, if ya know what I mean. My mind was too crowded with the gendered inequality of sexual experience. Hear what I’m saying? And this from a gal who does not have difficulty cumming.

He tried. And I tried. Those of you who have tried know that this is generally not a good strategy for cumming. And my mind kept grappling, resonating: he was good-looking, but nothing. Were (some) men really more visual and less prone to analyzing attraction? Were they more prone to feeling it? My pussy grappled along with my mind, as pussies do. In the end, I realized that whether the reality could ever be defined, distilled, formulated, or not, I personally did not get off on paying someone I didn’t know to rub me out. Call me a romantic.   

When he gave up, he was all like, “You’re blocked.” And I was all like, “Yeah, okay. Please drive me back to the subway.” I had trouble with eye contact. And I begrudged his conclusion that I was "blocked," because it was the set-up itself that had “blocked” me. But I didn’t think getting into that discussion with him was useful. After all, a woman has to choose her battles if she wants to enjoy down time-fun time, ever.

In a ‘yes’ world 

Here’s what I think: sex work that actually catered to women would look totally different. Because although no, one cannot make generalizations about entire genders, there are definitely different patterns and tendencies that can be identified when comparing the brains of men and women. Some say women are more verbal, men more visual. Women have more erogenous zones, more imaginative fantasies. Men are more easily influenced. All of this is up for debate, of course. 

Creating balance in the sex industry (including porn, of course) means completely changing the face of said industry. It’s about building new culture. No more championing real and fictitious women who put men’s pleasure before their own. Women who don’t “need” to experience pleasure. Women who get men off and never get off themselves. Women who show their faces and men who don’t. Women who please each other for men. Women who please men for other men. Women who don’t protect themselves. Men who don’t care about sensuality, foreplay, or women’s orgasms. Men with an endless stream of pussy to choose from. Men and women who normalize all of the above. Important: consensual role play where any of the above dynamics are played out is different. Consent is hot.

Yes to an industry that emphasizes women’s all-consuming, torrential pleasure potential and all that goes along with it. Yes to men who please. Women who are not afraid of asking for and getting what they want. Men who love that shit. A world in which walking down the street in any city is reflective of a sex-positive culture for all. 

Yes to better, hotter sex. Always. In goddess we trust.


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