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What is Sensual Domination?

By Kimberly Kane

Sensual domination, to me, is domination without painful discipline. However, discipline can be dished out in many different ways and still feel strict to the submissive. A lot of my fetishes have nothing to do with inflicting pain, cuckolding, for example. The Cuckold gets sexual gratification from their partner having sex with other people. Sometimes behind their back (adultery) or consensually within the boundaries of their relationship.

I see a lot of potential for Cuckold play at the Bunny Ranch. I’d like to have fun with this scenario on a grand scale. I’d like to have a Cuckold “slave” pay for clients to party with me. The humiliation alone would be extremely gratifying for the Cuckold.

Bisexual Encouragement is another fetish near and dear to my heart. A lot of men have bisexual desires, but they are not comfortable exploring them all the way. That’s where I come in. I like to encourage men to take the next step. This fetish can be very erotic, involving role-play scenarios and consensual verbal coercion, which is one of my many talents.

Another example of sensual domination is “the stern girlfriend or mother figure.” When you’re playing in the submissive role, you can let the outside world melt away. In your “normal” life, you might be stressed out at a high-level job, but when you’re with me, you have one task at hand, make mommy happy.

I take my time getting to know my clients. I ask a lot of questions to get down to what turns you on about your particular fetish. I, unfortunately, do not offer heavy impact BDSM parties at the Bunny Ranch. I feel my interests more aline with sensual domination. That’s why I invite you to tap into your true desires and book an appointment with me, your Mistress, Kimberly Kane.

Photos Curtesy of Kimberly Kane
Kanearmy.com

Kimberly Kane

You might think you know me from my films, but films are fantasy, and while I love fantasy, and making fantasies come true, I’d also like you to get to know the real me on a deeper, more meaningful level. I’d also like to get to know you, and hope we can become friends.

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What Do Courtesans Fantasize About?

It’s true that professional sex workers, due to the nature of our business, have engaged in a very wide variety of erotic activities with many clients, male and female, gay, straight, and transgendered, and with people who range in age from 18 to 70+. Whatever activity a customer requests, as long as it is nonviolent and adheres to the strict standards of sexual safety we follow, like barrier methods involving condoms and latex gloves for manual stimulation, we will provide the utmost satisfaction.

Our range of client experiences is vast and often unusual. We’ve made love with people in their full-dress military uniforms (although they were wearing only the top halves). I once finger-banged a lady Marine who had fought in some of the world’s most dangerous places, and was bi-curious for a woman’s touch. I enjoyed helping her release her tension by stroking areas of her inner reaches that she never had known were so sensitive. I thanked her for her service by giving her several shaking orgasms. She was a sweetie, and I was glad to help her broaden her sexual tastes.

Some of us have had the fun of fucking Furries. (Say that five times fast!) Who, or what, are Furries? They’re people who like to dress up in oversized cartoon-animal costumes, like the ones you see sports team mascots wearing when they’re encouraging crowds to cheer. Their costumes have openings at the crotches, so that a male furry bear can penetrate a female furry squirrel’s pussy. I guess I’m one of the few courtesans who can say that I’ve been fucked by a man in a furry raccoon suit!

A cynical person might carp that your average courtesan has seen everything that the human sexual imagination has to offer. Nothing can be truly “new” to her, right? I disagree—there is infinite variety to be found throughout humanity. And if you like to fantasize like I do, the actual sex acts feel even more pleasurable.

Even courtesans who have had hundreds of lovers cross their sheets still engage in sex dreams. While we work to help keep the legend of our late founder, Dennis Hof, rolling along, we have personal goals like he did, and told us to seek, too. He taught us to save and invest the money you, our clients, so generously provide for our expert services. Some of us may want to open restaurants or hotels of our own, or car dealerships, or even build a real estate development. Some of the ladies think about where they’d like to travel for their next vacation.

As for me, I’d like to build a clientele numerous enough to enable me to afford to keep my own all-male harem in a big ranch house. Of course, I’d pay them very well, treat them beautifully, but they’d “belong” to me. What woman wouldn’t want to get home after a few days on her back grinding her hips to help multiple males spill their seed to be met at her front door by a naked, toned, pretty hunk o’ man holding a tray with a glass of Champagne freshly poured and bubbling? And his cock rising to salute her?

Behind him would be the rest of the gang, a diverse group of hotties of all colors and ages, all waiting to serve me. Two of them would gently help me out of my clothing and into my PJs, because I crave a refreshing nap after a work week of making the beast with two backs, as Shakespeare wrote of sex. Another would carry me to my sofa and lay me gently down on the deep, giving cushions. Yet another would slip off my socks and gently massage my feet to relax my body into slumber. While I slept, I’d dream of living the exciting life of Queen Cleopatra, who took as her lovers two of the most important men of the Roman world, the handsome young warrior and would-be emperor Marc Antony and the older, balding but still immensely powerful Julius Caesar.

When I awakened, the smell of good food cooking would be wafting in from the kitchen—among my hired hands would be those of an expert chef, of course. After being served a beautifully prepared and presented French meal, my servants would peel off my jammies and panty so that I could make my way to a warm bath waiting in my old-fashioned, deep clawfoot tub, where I’d soak up comfort as one of my house-men sat in a chair, reading poetry to me in a deep, mellifluous voice. Afterwards, two naked men would dry me off with plush, soft towels.

Then, I’d adjourn to my bedroom where, depending on my mood, I’d ask a couple of my guys to snuggle with me under the covers, or have a man fire up my electric wand massager and trace it lightly over my body—just about a quarter-inch above my skin so the vibrations feel teasing and exquisite, halting at the split of my cunny and circling the massager around my mound of Venus until Venus is singing with fiery pleasure.

Either from the warm presence of my snuggle-bunnies or the stimulation of the magic wand, I’d be soaking wet between my legs and horny again although I’d been working hard fucking all week. (We courtesans have great powers of recovery.) I’d dismiss the wand-wielder with a soft kiss, and instruct the two men to glove up their stiff dicks, cover the condoms with my favorite fruity edible lubricant, and present themselves for a double BJ-at-my-bedside, one cock per hand. Then I’d suck their socks off, getting myself even wetter, leaving a fragrant spot of dampness on the sheet where I sat.

After I satisfied myself that those two cocksmen were ready for sex, I’d go into full command mode, ordering them to freshen up the lube on their spears. “You,” I’d say to the first, “lay down on your back, and hold up that meat for me to mount.” And I’d climb aboard him, thrilling at the sensation of his firm flesh uniting with mine. Then I’d snap my fingers at the one waiting. “Get behind me, and stick that thing up my ass!” I’d demand. Oh, yeah, double penetration—double the fun. When a girl has got one cock in her puss, and then feels another one sliding up her bum, you can imagine her eyes rolling back in her head from the overwhelming ecstasy. (Mine do.) I like my lovers to get as noisy as possible during sex because I delight in the lion-like grunts and groans and roars men make as they near climax. When their hardness breaks and they gasp as they fill those rubbers with white lightning, I’m in Heaven. (Those magnificent roaring orgasms would be only one of the perks of working for me. And I would tip well too!)

In my personal frat house, every man would have his own luxury room equipped with exercise equipment and private bath. Of course, part of the deal would be that if the boss, she being me, should mosey into one of those private bathrooms while one of my personal fuckboys is taking a shower, and wants to wash his cock and hairy balls, then soap up his shaft and stroke out some warm jets of cum, that’s my prerogative. And part of the job description.

I don’t know how many guys I’d keep as lovers—maybe eight or 10. With that many men, several would always be ready to get it up for Mama or to populate a midnight fuck party. A lot of girls have daydreamed about having cock on call. I would simply be reversing the roles that have defined men’s and women’s relationships. An in-house dick squadron would answer to my needs and wants—and cook and clean and shop, too! During my working times, I do my best to give my clients the pleasure and satisfaction they deserve. But at home, I’d be getting the personal attention I deserve. To paraphrase the great Mae West, who would invite groups of bodybuilders to her home for discreet sex parties, “A few men in the house is worth two in the street!”

Would you—or you and some of your buddies—like to help me realize my fantasy? I’m always available to audition new talent.

Contact me at [email protected]

Remy Martin

Charming and beautiful, Remy Martin from Dennis Hof's BunnyRanch is the loyal, respectful, and highly erotic woman of your fantasies. Remy adores traveling, sailing, swimming, dancing, and cooking -- let her fix you something succulent to eat during your time together.

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Intimacy after Trauma by Sagebrush Starlet Delilah Rae

There are a lot of things we don’t like to talk about. Sex, sexuality and the experiences that can change or affect our relationship with intimacy are all on top of the list. These subjects are taboo for both men and women. This can often lead to anxiety when discussing past experiences with a partner and can also lead to stunted sex lives or even end sexual exploration- especially when the change is rooted in a sexual trauma.

Both men and women can be hesitant or even fearful about discussing sexual violence and trauma. This fear of judgement, repercussions or rejection from a partner can leave a person uncertain about their sexuality.

That sounds really depressing and bleak doesn’t it?

Luckily, the fix might not be easy, but it is achievable and is far from impossible. My grandpa used to say anything worth having is worth working for and I personally think a healthy sex life is very much worth working for.

Like many things the beginning can be the most intimidating. We ask ourselves questions like, will my partner still care about me, will the provider I’m seeing be understanding, am I the only one that’s gone through this?

If you’re a man or a woman or someone outside the gender binary you are not the only person who has experienced sexual trauma, you are not the only person who has had to navigate this, you are not the only person to heal. You are not the only person to go through this, it’s okay to be challenged! Doing something as simple as reading this blog post is already reclaiming power in yourself. You have made the first (and often scariest) step into having the sexual future you want to have- and it’s closer than you might think.

The second step is taking a realistic look at your goals and where you are at right now. What do you want your sexual future to look like? The answer is different for everyone. For some folks they may want to process trauma through BDSM exploration, some may want to be able to be intimate with many partners and jump into hook-up culture, some may want to get to the point that when they find their soulmate they can go forward with no reservations.

All of those are valid goals.

As a sex worker, I obviously advocate for going to professional providers as an amazing option for navigating sexual trauma. I see clients from all walks of life and all sorts of sexual histories from virgins, to trauma survivors to BDSM practitioners and so much more. However, finding a provider who can give trauma informed services can be difficult.

I’m here to help make that path a little easier.

As we already said the first step is being honest with yourself and your goals. The second step is communicating those to a provider. What does that even look like?

It’s actually much simpler than you may think.

You’ve decided this is something you want to put the work into, you’ve read providers’ websites, profiles, etc. You know how to contact her, you know what you want and need out of the experience. What comes next?

You send that first email, or you even go to send it, but you are staring at a blank information form and you have no idea what to say. Do you want to unpack your trauma over an email to a stranger? What if she responds in a very negative way?

These are super valid and very real questions. They also bring a lot of anxiety that can stop you from sending that email.

Two things- one; your provider can give you better care and service when they have as much information as you’re comfortable giving. The more information, the better service. Two; you have every right to share as much or as little information as you want. However to refer back to point one it can affect the service you receive.

So where is the middle ground? Where is the way for you to only share what you’re comfortable sharing while receiving the best service you can get?

The answer is that first email. Ask your provider if they have experience with clients with a traumatic sexual history, ask if they have any special training with trauma informed service.

A sample message may read something like this-

Hello (providers name)

I saw your profile and I’d love to set an appointment with you. However, I do have a few questions first. I’m new to talking about this but the reason I’m seeking a provider is I had a traumatic experience with sex that I want to work through. I was wondering do you have any experience or special training with sexual trauma? I’m seeking a professional who can understand and help me navigate my relationship with sex.

Regards,

(Your name here)

Isn’t that less intimidating than you thought it would be? The initial message doesn’t have to unpack all of your experiences. You are just searching for a provider who has this experience right now. If the provider responds and tells you yes, they have this experience, and these are their qualifications you can dive into your goals and give the provider the information you feel comfortable sharing.

The path to sexual confidence after trauma starts with an honest conversation with yourself and an email. Two steps to creating the future you want.

Isn’t it worth reaching out and trying?

[email protected] Email me today!

Delilah Rae

I am Currently a Sagebrush Ranch Starlet. We all have secrets and desires we want to share. Those little things we need in our lives that we haven’t quite found yet. We all want to touch, taste, feel and see all the world has to offer. Sadly, we are often limited in what we can explore in ourselves and others. Luckily all those taboos and limitations fall away when you enter my room. Secrets become shared experiences and every desire is chased after to completion.

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Won’t You Be My Footman?

A man I once dated told me about a new neighbor he fancied. Not only was she a pretty, long-haired strawberry blonde with full breasts and a nice, round tushy, but she was friendly and approachable—easy to get to know. Her conversations with him were pleasantly teasing and flirtatious, and he felt he had a good chance to land in bed with her.

In the wintertime, she always wore a black faux-fur overcoat that complemented her shapely dimensions, matching it with a pair of brown leather knee-high boots with heels. The boots were shiny and sexily caressed her slim legs. One day, while they were chatting in her driveway, he said he liked her boots. “Thank you,” she answered, sweetly. “A girl has to have nice footwear.” Then she leaned back against the trunk of her dark-colored BMW, arching her back seductively and extending her boot-clad legs one at a time.

Her movements, especially those of her lower extremities, sent a thrill up his spine and strong signals to his cock, which shot up hard so fast he thought he heard the sound of a whip cracking, though it was only in his fevered imagination. He was wearing sweatpants without underwear, so he knew she could see his bulge. He clumsily tried to conceal it by turning slightly to the side but doing so only exposed more of his lance. He was embarrassed but also wildly excited. He made a quick and obvious excuse about having “something to do,” and quickly returned to his residence.

As soon as he closed his front door, his rapidly beating heart and quickened breathing—and the rock-hard tool in his pants—told him all he needed to know: His sexy neighbor, especially her boots, had set the sex-center of his brain on max, and he leaned against the wall of his foyer, threw down his sweatpants, and grabbed his raging cock in his right hand.

He tried to start his jacking motions off at a slow pace, to savor the feeling she aroused in him, but his hand began stroking faster and faster as he rose to a furious, spouting climax that shot cum against the opposite wall. His only regret, as he sagged, exhausted, almost tripping over the sweatpants gathered at his ankles, was that his spume hadn’t been splattered on her boots.

Oh, my God, he realized. I’m a foot fetishist—and I love it!

Women’s bodies, as men and bisexual or gay women all know, have been equipped with a cornucopia of erotic zones and parts. In fact, across the wondrous landscape of the female form, there is no place that cannot be eroticized. None. Nature formed us that way in far ancient times to attract male mates, who would offer food and protection and, of course, generous hot beef injections of caveman cock. (We girls hear the echo of those primitive times when men grunt and gibber like apes as they pump our pussies full of cum.)

Some men are known for favoring certain areas; you can call a guy an “ass man” or a “breast man,” but men who sexually crave and fantasize about women’s feet and legs are a special subculture of fetishists. They’re highly imaginative and can think of so many ways to derive extreme sexual joy from the delicate toes, the smooth soles, the well-trimmed toenails, the elegant arches, and the well-turned ankles of women’s feet. For this fetish, size really doesn’t matter; small and large feet are both favored.

Foot fetishism was probably at its height during the Victorian Age, a time of public shame about sexual expression but hypersexual activities in private. (For example, in one major city, there reportedly was a brothel that for women only. Very privileged women, who would be brought inside via a hidden private entrance. Instead of the traditional lineup, in which the sex workers parade themselves before clients who select the girl or girls they favor, the women would be guided upstairs to a bedroom kept in total darkness to mask the woman’s identity from the male sex worker who would service her needs. Their encounter would take place in total silence so that even the woman’s voice, which might be well-known if she was socially prominent, would remain secret.)

The moral repressiveness of the period has been attributed to Queen Victoria’s alleged sexual conservatism, but the true culprit for the priggishness of the time was her stern husband, the German-born Prince Albert. Her views about sex are unknown, but as a feisty and spirted young wife, she had eight children with her beloved husband, so he certainly aroused her passions.

Embarrassment about sexual matters grew to be ridiculous. The term “legs” became almost a dirty word because legs (usually, just the bare ankles, which became highly erotically charged in the male imagination) were all that men got to see of women’s bodies, covered, even in humid summers, by layers of clothing, unless they frequented brothels, were married, or were fortunate enough to find adventurous, artistic, rebellious feminist lovers. Even the legs of pianos were cloaked in lace because looking at those lifeless wooden supports might tempt a young man into lustful thoughts!

You can well imagine how much sexual curiosity was provoked by all this “no-no” advice: lots. During the 19^th century, women of means wore calf-length dress shoes with many buttons winding all the way up. It could take two to three minutes to button up—or unbutton—that elegant footwear, so flattering to a woman’s feet and legs.

A man in the company of an experienced period courtesan—or lucky enough to have a passionate lover in the everyday world—could sit comfortably in a chair, languidly puffing on a cigar while his lady friend stripped down to her high-button shoes, then took her sweet time seductively unfastening each button of a shoe before slipping it off, slowly, revealing a naked foot. The gentleman of leisure would rise to his feet, remove his clothing, fold them neatly, and turn to face her with a stiff rod saluting her beauty.

But instead of gripping his rod with her hand or taking it into her mouth or pussy, she would apply cream to her toes and feet, then reach with her legs until her toes wrapped themselves around his shaft, caressing it gently and skillfully, “playing” it like a snake charmer until the “snake” spit out its white goo all along the lady’s feet and legs.

History shows that forbidden things become more and more attractive over time. Pretty soon cowgirl boots, riding boots, hiking boots, slippers, ballet shoes, stockings, socks, sneakers, and even pantyhose would join the assortment of costumes favored by foot lovers. As dresses began to shorten in the early 20^th century, exposing more of the legs, foot men rejoiced. Now they would have a clear route to the delicious vagina, their journey beginning at a lady’s big toe and traveling on up her leg until they met her oval of delight.

If you’d like to schedule a meeting, be sure to ask me to show you how you can give me an orgasm just by massaging the ball of my foot. It may be an unusual way to begin foreplay for you, but everyone can benefit from learning new sexual skills. You can quote me on that! Contact me at [email protected]

Olivia Green

Hello there…I’m Olivia Green, the girl next door from Nantucket, Massachusetts. (You probably know the limerick ; ) I’m a down to earth lady who drinks with her pinky extended LOL. I may look innocent, but I have a sexy wild streak. Call me classy, flirty, and dirty… Whether it be a GFE or a PSE experience that you’re looking for, I will make you forget the outside world exists in my cozy comfy room…Let me pamper you. I suck at playing pool but if you can laugh with me over a drink, we could have so much fun! I love music…Everything from electronic dance music to classic rock, and even some metal. I like any beat that makes my body move! I love exploring your fetishes. There’s nothing we can’t talk about in the privacy of my room. I’m a squirter, and I absolutely adore couples. Two girl parties, two gentlemen parties…The possibilities are endless! I’m a trained pastry chef, so I can bake you something after we party all night! Apple Crisp anyone? I have the ultimate respect for the men and women that are active duty and retired military, and I always offer them a discount : ) Contact me today at [email protected] and let’s plan a sexual adventure together!

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Surprise Sex is the Best!

Spontaneity is the soul of sexual passion. Of course, erotic anticipation—watchful waiting for just the right moment to caress your naked lover’s bare shoulder or hair or to teasingly pinch her nipples with both hands from behind to indicate that you’re ready to unite physically—has its advocates too. Some folks like to “go slow and savor,” but others let their inhibitions go and just jump right into the physical act of love.

Some men like to be coaxed into horniness gradually. They’ll sit with me at the bar, sipping drinks and casually chatting about what’s happened since we last met. We let the liquor warm us up, and at a certain point, we head for my room to negotiate our sexual business.

Other clients are so eager to enter me that when I know they’re scheduled to meet with me that day, I have my sexual aids lined up on the bedside table before our appointments: an electric wand vibrator; assorted sex toys; a tube or bottle of edible, sweet-tasting lubricant; a box of latex gloves, and a selection of condoms. I need to be able to grab these items and get right to work because I know that my guy will pop a stiff, straining erection in my face as soon as I sit down on the bed in front of him. As soon as we’ve closed the door, we rapidly disrobe, dropping our clothes into a commingled pile on the floor because my stallion is snorting and stomping and he wants to mate, now.

I’ve nicknamed these men my “fighter pilots” because they like to come in hot and fast. No matter how far they’ve driven to be with me, they arrive charged-up and ready to go, and I have to be ready for their barely controlled randiness.

I’ve elevated one of my customers to the status of “jet pilot” because he arrives in such a hot-and-bothered state that he needs immediate relief. When we get to my room, he tears off his jeans and boxers, his hard-on thick and rigid with blood. As quick as I can, I glove up his cock with a condom, squirt lube on it, spread it around, then get a dildo, stretch a condom over it, and lube it generously also. He’s my jet jockey because he craves prostate stimulation with a special kind of “joystick” while I suck or jack him off. I shove that lubed, gloved-up dildo up his ass and work it in and out while I pleasure him orally or manually. After only a few minutes, he shoots off a flood of cum, howling like a man just released from prison after a year without pussy. His whole body shakes. It’s something to see.

But he’s far from finished. His first explosion is just to take the edge off. After he blows his first load, I carefully remove and discard the used condom, cleansing his cock with a washcloth soaked with warm water and soft, creamy soap. Then I hand him a latex glove, cover his fingertips with lube, lay down on my back and open my legs. While we wait for his cock to rest and recover, he finger-fucks me deeply and skillfully, causing my vaginal canal to lengthen and ready herself to receive his dick. He usually brings the vibrator into the action, buzzing my clitty while he digitally drives my cunny crazy. He plunges those long fingers into me like a man possessed. The legendary crossover star of adult and Hollywood films, Nina Hartley, says that in order to truly please a woman, “You’ve got to loooove the pussy.” And he does. He works so fast he’s got me gasping in only a short time.

He’s so good at fingering me that it doesn’t take me long to have my first climax, then another. The sound of a woman reaching orgasm has its effect: His cock snaps to attention again, and I need to reapply a condom—maybe one with stimulation ribs this time—lube it up, and get myself into doggie position on the bed because he’ll use his gloved fingers to spread my pussy lips open, take aim, and plunge that rod as deep inside me as he can. Then he’ll grab my hips and ram that man-meat into me so powerfully that we can hear my oval orifice making the kind of wet, sucking sounds that signal my nearly overwhelming excitement. Faster and faster he strokes, and when he finally spurts I can feel his powerful pulsations because his whole shaft vibrates. Some men really know how to work a pussy, and my jet pilot leaves us both shattered and satisfied. (I really love my work!)

One of the best episodes of surprise sex didn’t happen to me but to two friends of mine who made a little sexual history at the college where they met. The guy was a drummer in a rock band playing the college pub, the girl his lover.

The band took its second break of the evening, and the drummer and his lady went downstairs, where they entered the campus newspaper office (the drummer was also the editor of the newspaper). They locked the door behind them and sat down on a long couch to talk. After a couple minutes, the girl said, “I’m bored. I think we need to fuck.” The drummer obviously agreed, as he rose from the couch, unzipped his pants, and whipped out his instantly hard cock, and turned to bring it to her waiting mouth. She sucked him lovingly for a while, actually only about two minutes because he couldn’t wait to fuck. She pulled her jeans and panties to her knees, knelt on the couch, and her drummer penetrated her slick kitty and laid down a steady rhythm that had them rocking and rolling until they came together. Apparently, they had lost track of the time, because just as they finished, the music started up again upstairs in the pub.

The couple quickly redressed and hurried upstairs. As they entered the pub, about 100 people applauded them for their sexual audacity. Apparently, everyone had guessed what they had been up to downstairs. (The band had two drummers, so a friend attending the show, also a drummer, sat in on lover boy’s kit when he didn’t return on time from break.) The story made the rounds on campus for weeks, and many people stopped by the newspaper office to see “the sex couch.”

Got a story about an experience with surprise sex that you’d like to re-create with my help? Come Visit me at The World Famous Moonlite Bunny Ranch or Send me an email at [email protected] and let’s book some surprising fun!

Betty Page

I love to laugh, I love to make people laugh, and I’m very down to earth. I’m originally an East Coast girl. I’ve been all over the United States, the Caribbean, and even Argentina. There are more places I want to visit so I always have my passport ready! I love living in NV most of all and am so happy to be much more available for an adventure with you! I have a degree in Forensic Psychology with concentrations in Neuroscience. I speak a few languages but not fluently. It’s respectful to show an interest in other people’s languages and cultures. I also have a geeky/nerdy playful side. I like comics, games, and dressing up as characters. I also like sports like baseball. I like the Mets and Red Socks, but my family likes the Yankee’s, which keeps it fun and interesting. I knit and crochet taught by my grandma, I love doing yoga, dance, and some martial art forms since childhood. I would love to show you some yoga positions and dance forms! I like to go camping and enjoy the outdoors with my Jeep Wrangler and I can’t wait to drive around Nevada more and go exploring with some company.

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The Juniper Jones Story

Hi my name is Juniper Jones and I’m a legal sex worker at one of the brothels in Lyon County. Here is my story.

At a very young age I was fairly successful. I was the first student in 40 years in my county to skip eighth grade and go directly into high school honors. I worked very hard in school. I scored a 2,140 on my SATs. That in combination with my extracurricular activities got me into basically every college that I applied for.

I wound up choosing the one that was closest to my grandmother’s house in Southern California and I spent two years there before I got an offer from a large sales company up in the Seattle area. I was a youngest person in the history of that company we ever hired for that position. And I was actually the youngest person to ever be hired for my position in the following company when I got offered more money.

By the time that I was 21 I was making more than both of my parents income combined annually – almost double. Which was insane for me because I did not grow up in a family with a lot of opportunities. So it was a large accomplishment of mine and one that I’m still proud of to this day.

I worked a ton. I was on the fast track to management. I wound up becoming a manager a lot faster than I think even my company anticipated. And I worked all the time. I worked probably about 70 to 90 hours a week while going to school full-time – which, when I think about it now, I don’t even know how I slept. Or if I even slept. Kind of all blur to me at this point.

Because of how aggressively demanding my job was I started to develop a series of health issues and I started to get really sick. To be honest I needed a change in my career. I needed to find something that was going to be a lot more freeing and a lot less detrimental to my health.

I now have time to call my mom. I have the freedom to be able to build my own business; build my own career. Sleep at night – which is a really big thing for me. And to be honest, I don’t know where I’d be without the brothels. I don’t even know if I’d still be here.

Email [email protected] or Visit her page LRN.LoveRanch.net/Juniper-Jones

Juniper Jones

My name is Juniper and I am thrilled to be one of the newest additions to the northern Love Ranch. I recently moved to Nevada after spending a few months backpacking along the coast and taking care of my grandmother in Los Angeles. When I’m not having fun at the ranch, I go to school for cartoon and stop motion animation.

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A Blonde Goddess Who Will Relieve You of Your Virginity with Kindness, Grace, and Passion

The title says it all: If you are a virgin in need of experience and gentle, patient instruction, I am the Aphrodite of your horniest dreams. All six feet and luxurious blonde locks of me, matched with long, shapely legs, round boobs, an elegant, sloping back—which you can see rise and fall as we fuck doggy style, one of my favorite positions. You can have all of me. And more.

Being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of. Everybody, man or woman, is virginal for a while until opportunity knocks, and they’re relieved of years of sexual tension. They are now adults, free to fuck as often and as hard as they want.

Some people are lucky enough to learn how to fuck early, some later. There is no set age by which anyone is “supposed” to be sexually active. The legendary actor James Earl Jones, the voice of Darth Vader himself, didn’t get laid until he was in his mid-twenties. You’d think that someone with as commanding a voice as Jones’s could have any girl he wanted. Yet he was young and awkward, but eventually, he got laid. And so will you. Beatle George Harrison lost his virginity in the loft of a German kino (cinema) in Hamburg while fellow Beatles John and Paul looked on approvingly (and applauded when he finished).

You’ve been thinking of someone who looks like me ever since you woke up with your first cock-throbbing orgasm after dreaming of a fantasy lover. (The first one is always dry [no ejaculate], but the ones that occur after that become the splashing “nocturnal emissions” that leave you waking up with your Jockeys wet with cum throughout your teenage years.) The first girl whose image in your dream makes you cum could be a ballet dancer in a tutu with no underwear underneath who spins around a stage beautifully to soaring music, then walks off into the wings and straight onto your cock (dancers’ bodies are very supple and flexible) or she could be that ginger-haired spitfire next-door neighbor that you’re mad to fuck, who appears in a dream one night as a fierce siren in a short, tight dress, knocking urgently at your front door, entering and climbing onto a living-room couch, flipping up her skirt to reveal a pink cunny shining with moisture, and ordering you to “Stick it in me! You know you’ve always wanted it. Slide it in, baby!” And you do as soon as your rip your pants and underwear off. And, if you’re sleeping naked, you wake up with your cock stiff as shit and pumping six or 10 streams of man-milt over the bedsheet.

Pretty soon, one way or another—hand job porn on the Internet can help, if a friend hasn’t already shown you—you learn how to masturbate, and then the fun really begins. (One young guy told me it took him years to realize that “correct” jacking off means you fuck your fist. He just lightly stroked and massaged his hard-on, and came just the same. Whatever works!)

Every pretty girl you see now becomes your fantasy lover of the moment. And there are so many of them! Your dick will sometimes feel a bit sore from popping up so often and so hard Beware (hee! hee!). You are entering the fascinating and complex and erotically electric world of women’s sexuality.

We women have great emotional depths, and the men who learn to plumb those depths will become our most appreciated and fortunate lovers (and get to unite cock-to-cunny with us). A woman with my skills and experience can teach you how to please lovers all your life, and so well that they’ll do anything for you in bed. And you will make them feel so sexy, so wanted, so desired, so hungered for, that they’ll let themselves go wild with you.

But first, you need to move from sexual daydreams into the body of a real, live lady. One of my favorite activities as a professional sex worker is to relieve men, whether they’re age 18 or 36 or older, of their virginity. I do so my own special way—nice and easy and with slow, sensuous seduction.

When a young man’s sex drive awakens, he’s generally running full speed all the time. That can create such pressure, such a buildup of excitement that the moment a virginal man’s penis, even covered by a condom, slips inside a girl’s tight, warm pussy, he’s likely to shoot his cum prematurely.

It happens to almost every guy the first time, because being deep inside a girl is like no other pleasure ever invented. The girl is allowing you to enter her body in the most intimate way possible. Trust me: You will never before have felt such deep pleasure. And women feel it too. The sexy actress Cameron Diaz told Playboy in an interview that she’s flown thousands of miles for good cock. I want you to become the kind of lover that women will cross a continent to lay with. (And don’t worry, if you shoot fast, you definitely get a second chance with me: After a little rest period, I’ll slip a condom on your cock, apply some sweet edible lubricant, and gently suck you back to full hardness, ready to meet Ms. Kitty again. That “premature” shoot usually breaks down a young man’s anxiety, and he finds that when he gets in the saddle again, he can stroke away maybe a hundred times or more before he’s ready to blow a second time, so powerfully that I’ve felt his dick vibrate like a tuning fork as he loads up with cum the rubber he’s thrust so deep inside me.)

When we first meet, I will take you to my private room where we can chat a while and get to know each other. I realize that most first-timers will be nervous, excited, and expectant all at once, and I want to channel all that eagerness into a completely memorable experience. First, we’ll take a double selfie, because I want you to see yourself as the innocent sexual seeker next to me, the girl you’d brag to any fellow guy about fucking. After we finish fucking, we’ll take a second photo. I guarantee the goofy post-orgasm expression on your face will make you laugh with joy for decades to come. It will become a precious memento. All your life, you can gaze at those photos remind yourself: There she is, my First Lover. (You’re very welcome!)

But first, the seduction. As we sit and have a convo, we can talk about how you’d like to be turned on. Maybe you’ve always wanted a girl to lean in close and whisper in your ear, “I’m really horny and I need some cock right now. Can I have yours?” I said earlier that I like to fuck doggy style, so maybe I’ll suggest that you kneel on the bed and hold your gloved-up stiffie straight out so I can back my pussy onto it and fuck you with my hips. Or maybe you’ve always wanted to talk dirty to a girl, so we pretend you’re phoning me to tell me how just thinking of me makes your cock jump up and push hard against the zipper of your jeans, and that you wish I would pull down that zipper and stroke your fresh hot cock. “Get your ass over here and I’ll stroke your willy and more!” I could say back. Nothing is too dirty for me.

Next, I’ll teach you the fine art of pussy-handling. For that, we’ll need a latex glove, a couple squirts of lube, and me laying back naked on the bed with my legs falling wide open, the pink rose of my honey hole ready to opened and explored.

I’ll ask you to take a gloved finger and slowly slip it into me. (The middle finger works well.) Circle it around my sugar walls. You’ll feel my vaginal canal lengthening and stretching to receive your penis. You’ll sense my inner self responding to your fingering. One nice trick to make girls cum is to slowly, very slowly, withdraw your finger, letting it slide up and over the clitty. Some girls arch their backs and cry out ecstatically. Some girls’ bodies jerk like they’re being tickled. And some girls clamp their pussy muscles down on your finger to give you a preview of how hard your cock will be gripped during sex.

What’s a sure thing is that if you take your time getting a girl warmed up, no matter what finger-style you use, the girl will be grateful, because a gentleman always ensures that his lady climaxes first. There are many levels of orgasm for women, and I’ll show you how to finger-bang a girl to orgasm. After a couple of toe-curling orgasm, she will get a wild look in her eyes just before she slips her lips over your best buddy and blows you to kingdom come. I will teach you how to arouse a woman to such a state of excitement that she’ll take deep breaths before diving on your Johnson like a madwoman.

Then, the Moment of Entry. When your hard-on slips into me, I may groan or giggle or howl, but I will let you know I feel every inch of your manhood feeling like a man should feel, for the first time. “Rock and roll” was originally a slang term for fucking, and when you rock and roll with me, you’ll never listen to music the same way again. The heavy beat will always remind you of the first time you belly-bumped with a queenly beauty like me.

C’mon, let’s make some sexual history together—yours, breaking on through to a wonderful erotic future.

Let’s fly together.

Contact me at [email protected].

Tiara Tae

Breathtaking blonde bombshell Tiara Tae is the drop dead gorgeous playmate of your dreams! Join her in her personal playground, Dennis Hof's Moonlite Bunny Ranch legal brothel near Reno, NV and Lake Tahoe.

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Hookers in History – The Story of Molly B’dam by Delilah Rae

So those of you who’ve gotten the chance to get to know me are well aware that I am a HUGE history nerd and this blog is giving me to talk about my favorite historical figure- Molly B’dam. I love the lost stories of history and I love working in the field I work in. So I figured I would marry those loves and tell you about a famous sex worker.

So let’s talk about Hookers in History by introducing you all to Molly B’dam

Molly was born in 1853 on December 26th in Dublin, Ireland as Maggie Hall. She decided marriage and a life of servitude to a husband in Ireland wasn’t her thing. At age twenty she moved to America ready to try her luck. Sadly the luck of the Irish left her at the New York harbor and like many young Irish women of the time she was unable to find employment due to anti-Irish discrimination.

She became a barmaid in a place… well let’s just say the good church ladies of New York didn’t dine there. She quickly met a young man name Burdan who was enamored with her certain je ne se quoi. They were quickly married and promptly disowned by Burdan’s father.

Burdan’s father had the right idea about his son as he wanted nothing to do but lay around and gamble all day. Without Daddy’s money Burdan soon needed another way to pay off his gambling friends. He convinced Maggie to change her name to Molly and suggested she start sleeping with his debt collectors.

Maggie now Molly was a smart woman and soon realized she was the goose that laid the golden egg in her marriage. Rather than waiting for a smart witted giant killer to spirit her away she took off on her own and headed west. On the way to Idaho, dressed in her expensive furs and on her horse a blizzard struck up. Molly took a single woman traveling with her baby into an abandoned cabin on the trail. Wrapped in her furs the three travelers waited out the gale in relative safety and comfort. In the morning Molly set them back on the trail to Murray, Idaho.

The rest of the caravan had given them up for dead until Molly walked into town with the other woman and child on her horse. Greeting the surprised folks Molly promptly asked for the first cabin of the red light district (the madam’s cabin) and room and board for her friend.

With her Irish accent the townsman thought he heard her husband’s name as Molly B’dam. As a woman who fell from the mercy of the Catholic church in favor of making her own fortune the pseudonym may have been a blessing and a prophecy.

Her legend doesn’t stop there however! During a smallpox outbreak the good and godly citizens of the town hid in fear of catching the disease. Molly organized a town meeting, called them all cowards, and politely but efficiently demanded that the local hotel be turned over to her and her working ladies to be used as a hospital and would the healthy men of the town get off their asses and start burying the damn dead.

I doubt any of you will be surprised to find that the townsmen and women were properly cowed, shamed and behaved themselves. There’s an interesting side note of science and vaccines and germ theory in the fact that few if any of Molly’s working girls and Molly herself never contracted the smallpox disease. That, however, is another blog post for another day. It is suffice to say that Molly saved the town by implementing the common sense of quarantining the sick and properly disposing of the dead. Somehow the god fearing folk of the town hadn’t made it that far in their planning.

Molly was well known in the entire gold rush area for both her charity and her business savvy. She and her working girls routinely visited widows with gifts and food and clothing. She also visited men injured in mine accidents and would often offer up one of her cabins to families in need. She may have been excommunicated from the church but she held fast to her ideals of what it means to be a good person.

Molly’s legend did not end in her premature death. She contracted consumption or what we now know as tuberculosis. Apparently working yourself to exhaustion to help the town you live in is a bad idea. Note to self…

She has obviously not been forgotten since her tragically early death at 34. She is buried in the Murray town cemetery with a grave that reads “Sacred to life, Maggie Hall, Molly B’dam.” She is still referred to as the patron saint of Murray and the town celebrates the Molly B’dam Gold Rush Days every year.

One of my favorite Molly stories that I will leave you with today is that she once is said to have dragged a bathtub into the middle of the town street and informed the miners that if they filled it with gold dust she’d jump right in- wearing nothing but a promise and a smile.

The town of Murray currently has a population of 89 people. However part of the town, in one of the two original town buildings is the Spragpole Museum and Inn. In the museum there is a recreation of Molly’s bedroom. She’s been immortalized in song, in books and in oral legend. There is one surviving photo that is believed to belong to her but her visage is best remembered in her charity and her American grit.

I love this story because it shows the passion, kindness and savy that so many working girls still carry today. This is a lost story of history that continues to resonate with our world today. I tossed in a photo that is believed to be of Molly.

Thank you for taking the time to read this Blog about Hookers in History.

Love,

Delilah Rae

I am Currently a Sagebrush Ranch Starlet.
We all have secrets and desires we want to share. Those little things we need in our lives that we haven’t quite found yet. We all want to touch, taste, feel and see all the world has to offer. Sadly, we are often limited in what we can explore in ourselves and others. Luckily all those taboos and limitations fall away when you enter my room. Secrets become shared experiences and every desire is chased after to completion.

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Let’s Travel Into The Great Wide Open Of Sex!

“I want to sleep with you in the desert tonight / with a billion stars all around…” (From “Peaceful Easy Feeling,” by Jack Tempchin, recorded by The Eagles in 1972.)

When you look into the night sky over Nevada, it really does seem like you can see billions of stars. It feels like you’re viewing a big slice of the universe at once, spread out like a curtain of purple, green, yellow, white, and red light. Nevada is a very big state—big enough to explore its mountains and vast desert spaces forever. My favorite activity is to go off-roading in the summertime, camping and fishing, because I’m an outdoorsy girl. See that dust trail in the distance? That’s this wild girl piloting a Jeep Wrangler at top speed. I’m petite, but I’m powerful—I control that 4 X 4 machine expertly, but you’d be surprised—and delighted—if you saw my driving costume: a bikini, a Stetson hat, and boots. I’m a small package, but hold me carefully: I’m explosively sexy.

I like making love anywhere, but doing it under the stars is so erotic because it’s like celebrating the awesomeness of nature by being au naturel with all those eyes in the sky watching me ride the rocket (a lucky guy’s cock, of course). When I go trekking in the outdoors on an outdate with—could be a guy like you—I like to take him to my favorite hideaway spots where we can spend a few days exploring, talking, laughing, skinny-dipping in a cool, isolated stream, four-wheeling up in the mountains, camping out lakeside or up in the trees, kissing, cuddling, fucking doggy style at sunset or sunrise so we can both enjoy the beauty of the falling or rising sun, dancing by a lake naked as our music blasts from a player—anything we want to do, by ourselves, in the great wide open.

When you go camping, of course, you’ve got to bring the proper equipment: a spacious, waterproof tent that goes up as easily as the dick of a guy who sees my pretty self walking slowly and swaying seductively when we first meet; a gas-fired portable cook stove (although a wood fire is okay too, because the smell of campfire smoke is so erotic and relaxing); a fully-charged-up music system (like we’ll be after a full day of tearing around the hills in my Jeep!); some appropriate beverages to keep us hydrated (because we’ll be engaging in a lot of, ahem, physical activities during our private vacation); a selection of steaks, chops, and chicken and veggies for frying or roasting; maybe some sweet treats (besides me) because we’ll be using up a lot of energy.

When you embark on an adventure into the wild parts of Nevada, it’s good to have a game plan, too. Sexy games that involve role-playing is what I mean, because out in the natural world we can let our imaginations run wild. After we set up camp and have some snacks and drinks after traveling during the day, it’ll fade into evening. After it gets dark, we could play the Beautiful Lost Girl game, where I act the role of a young woman who wanders into your campsite one night after walking alone for some days. You, my handsome rescuer, make us a hearty meal while I tell you about my journey. Of course, I am grateful to have found you, but as we chat, you discover that I’m not a victim of misfortune but a rather capable young lady. After all, I found my way to you! There I am, a formerly lost-but-now-I’m-found girl, in possession of essential survival skills, sexy and smart, and it turns you on like crazy. Will this girl turn out to have the kind of sexual experience that complements her woodland skills? “Take out your cock and I’ll start to show you,” I will say, unwrapping a condom to neatly glove you up for a “Thank You” post meal BJ under the vast stars above. Imagine running your fingers through my long, dark hair as I take you deep in my mouth and look up to you with my oval eyes. Let yourself sink further into the fantasy we’re sharing, thinking, “Wow, this girl walked all day to get here, she came out of the dark like a vision, and now we’re making love.” Have you ever fucked by the flickering light of a campfire? As you slide your slickened-up, condom-covered cock balls-deep in my pussy, you’ll get another surprise—I can do things with her that you’ve never experienced before with a woman. (Let’s say I’m very fit and flexible where it counts.)

And, if you’d like, we can reverse the roles on another day, where you play a guy whose truck broke down in a remote location with no mobile-phone coverage, and who’s spent a couple days walking out to safety, and it’s my camp he finds (lucky him!). It’s been a hot summer, and he’s worked up a sweat footing all those miles. There’s a gentle stream nearby where I lead him and in which I bathe him, my hands washing every part of his body. In order to complete this loving ritual, I’ve asked him to strip down, but I’ve removed my clothing too, so he won’t feel embarrassed. (I don’t have much on anyway.)

Remember when I said how important it is to bring the right supplies when you go camping? I also bring comforting liquid soaps, a selection of lubricants, latex gloves, and my own kit of sex toys. Hey, you never know when you’re gonna get a chance to take a nude back-country bath with a handsome man, Okay, back to the bath in the stream: Snapping on the gloves and squirting on the soap, I work over our manly hero’s every luscious inch, leaving him shiny and clean, smelling fresh, and giving me the six-inch salute from between his legs.

We’ve got to do something with his magnificent manhood, which I’ve shined up with soap; now, I apply a condom to his flagpole, and cover the rubber with lube, because I intend to give him a very artful hand job to relieve him of the tension of his long journey (and get him ready for all-night-long sex). (How many miles would any man walk for a great HJ? No one knows, but I guess at least a hundred.)

Another fantasy that stimulates me is playing the part of a 19^th century wanted stagecoach lady robber on the run and in disguise. The guy I’m with pretends to be a Pinkerton detective who has “arrested” me, but is having second thoughts because he’s so fiercely attracted to me. He’s thinking with his dick for sure, but I’m successfully convincing him of my “innocence.” I’m such a bad girl, I show him my gratitude by letting him under my several skirts and petticoats and into my tight pussy. I can see that he’s cumming to his own conclusion rapidly, and he doesn’t care that I’m a wanted criminal. He’s been pumping me for a long time, but I can feel him slowing down before he shoots off massively in the condom. I cradle him in my arms all night.

Project your fantasies on me, let me be your guide to thrills; I’ll be your mirror. Or take me as I am, a sweet, sensible, sexy Midwestern girl who can give you the best head you’ve ever felt, cook a steak to perfection, establish a campsite like she’s been doing it all her life (and I have), knows lots of truly private outdoor locations and Jeeping back routes, and makes love with a heart as big as all outdoors. I’m Jenny Jade, and I’ll be your cowgirl, your backwoods lover, your everything! Contact me at [email protected] to book your trip to sexual adventure!

Jenny Jade

Hi there!! I am Jenny Jade..

All American, midwest girl! I’m a petite 5’2, 95 lbs. but…with a set of 32-Ds!

I am the outdoors type. Whenever I get the chance you’ll find me fishing off a dock in just my bikini, or sneaking a skinny dip..I love to feel the water with nothing on at all!

I’m a great sports enthusiast, growing up the only girl in a house full of brothers…I’m rough & tumble & I’d love to wrestle with you!

When the sun goes down, you may find me with the lights down watching a scary flick.I’d just love for you to be next to me to grab onto when I get scared!

Or, going for a 3 a.m. dip in the hot tub, under the stars, with a cocktail & you!!

You know what they say, “Dynamite comes in small packages”….and I am a small package that will B-L-O-W your mind!! ( and all of your other 101 body parts!!)

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Keep Calm and Tell Me All Your Secret Sex Thoughts

People keep a lot of secrets to themselves. Sometimes the secrets run deep in their psyches, and they come to professional sex workers like me for help in expressing their “forbidden” erotic fantasies, because you can ask a courtesan for almost anything a horny mind can imagine. That’s why we’re here. Ordinary people just aren’t as experienced, skilled, adventurous, and nonjudgmental as we are.

One of the areas where I excel is in fulfilling my male clients’ fantasies through role-playing. I recently had an encounter with a young man I’ll call Randy, who presented me with an unusual request: He wanted me to employ all my feminine powers of persuasion not just to act out his sex dream, but to first discover the secret he was hiding. I didn’t know what we would ultimately do once I got him to reveal himself, but I appreciated the challenge. It turned me on.

I look good in high-fashion outfits, so I thought I’d dress myself up as the kind of mysterious, alluring female characters that you find in James Bond films. I’ve always liked the fact that Bond Girls are most often not only beautiful, but capable of matching wits with James himself or one of the many villains he faces. (Often, they save 007’s ass from death at the last minute.) Before I began, I opened my dress blouse several buttons down to show some cleavage, and dabbed a bit of scent between my breasts.

I set up a chair in the middle of my room, and ordered Randy to take a seat. I bent down, took him by the chin, and looked mock-sternly into his blue eyes. “This is an interrogation, my young man,” I said, with a forcefulness that surprised even me; I even threw in a kind of foreign accent of my own invention. “I will find out everything inside that handsome head of yours.” I leaned down next to his ear, and whispered, “One way or another,” then flicked my tongue against his earlobe teasingly. He shivered with excitement. I had his undivided attention.

I straightened up, opened my legs, and straddled Randy, settling my soft pussy mound right on his crotch. I felt him grow hard against my body—but I wasn’t ready to admit him to my holiest of holies yet. I rocked my body gently, rubbing myself against him slowly, enjoying our mutual body warmth. I haven’t had a dry hump since I was a teenager, but rubbing my coochie on his cockshaft through our clothing was unexpectedly thrilling. I even gave myself a quick, sharp climax, and had to slow down or I would have soaked my panty and pants with my pussy juice. As for Randy, he was stiff as a power pole.

As I continued doing the rocking-horse thing on Randy’s cock, I took his face

into my hands, drew his mouth to mine and kissed him ardently, holding the

kiss just long enough that when I broke contact, he was breathless. “If you tell

me the truth,” I said, “there will be many more kisses like that. What do you

have to say?”

“I can’t,” he answered, his voice breaking. “I’m too ashamed. And embarrassed. I just can’t tell anyone.” He looked as if he might burst into tears.

“I have seen much of this world, my friend,” I assured him. “Nothing surprises me. I have met many men, and I am here with you now.” I hugged his face into my chest, welcoming him into intimacy. His hot breath was making my nipples hard in my bra. I sensed that it was time to push for his full confession.

“Never fear, my love,” I cooed. “Whatever you have to tell me will never leave this room. You can trust me.”

“I haven’t had sex for two whole years!” he blurted suddenly. “Tons of girls have turned me down! What is wrong with me? I feel so… unmanly.”

I felt a rush of sympathy for him, and took a few seconds to search for comforting words to say to him. “Those girls didn’t know what they were missing. Do you like girls?” I asked quietly.

“I love girls so much,” he said. “The last girl I had sex with was so friendly and affectionate, and she just loved to fuck. Most girls scream when they climax. She would laugh, this big, sexy, womanly laugh,” he explained.

“What happened?” I asked.

“She had to transfer to a college in another state to get her nursing degree. We lost touch…” his voice trailed off sadly.

“Then you need to get back in touch,” I answered immediately. “Let me help.” I slowly dismounted from his lap, and knelt down next to the chair. “I am going to touch you, a little at a time, bit by bit, because you haven’t been touched in a long time.” (I also thought that unless I took special care taking his cock out of his pants that after two years’ frustration, it might go off like a fountain. I wanted to save that pleasure for him later.)

I pulled open his belt, unbuttoned the top of his pants, and, very slowly, drew down the zipper. He was wearing boxer shorts underneath, so it was easy to reach in through the front opening and extract his stunningly erect penis. It really was beautiful (and I see my share of male organs in my work). It had an elegant head, like something on a Greek statue, with a long, healthily veined shaft. I wondered which stupid girls had refused to suck and fuck this outstanding specimen of manhood?

I tore open a condom package, took out a clear rubber, and rolled it down the full length of Randy’s rod. I was about to give him a good, hard sucking, and I wanted to see that pretty dick of his through the latex material.

But first, I held his hard-on in my hand, squeezing it, massaging it, and admiring it. Looking up, I saw Randy crying with joy. Making people happy is the best part of my job.

And nothing makes a man happy like a playful, messy blowjob. I grasped his cock, which he was thrusting toward me hungrily, and slipped almost all of it into my mouth. I nursed at it; I grabbed it and took long, tight sucks, making a popping sound when it left my mouth, then fastening on it strongly again. After more than two years of waiting, I expected him to pump the condom in my mouth full of cum. But he didn’t, though he was moaning and fucking my mouth desperately. I appreciated his control, and decided that it was time to remount him, but this time, sans my dress jeans and panty.

I squirted some lube on the part of the condom fitting around the head of his dick, stood up, dropped my jeans and my panty, threw a leg over his body, aimed his cock at my vagina, and sat down firmly. “Whoop!” I uttered, feeling his formerly frustrated manhood penetrate me deeply.

There was no doubt about one important fact: Even after two years of enforced celibacy, Randy still knew how to fuck. I bounced on him, and he caught me with strong upthrusts as I rose up. We were rockin’ in rhythm. Eventually, we settled into a no-space-between-us method where the base of his cock stroked my clit as we rode back and forth. I squeezed him back with my pussy muscles, which are really responsive.

Just before we came together, we fell into a kind of trance that happens when two people fucking lose track of everything but the sensations their bodies are feeding them. The sexual tension was building up like mad. He was making the monkey face and I was making the cat face as we approached the end zone. Then we were grinding our genitalia together, uttering senseless words, laughing, howling, groaning, and finally, collapsed. My pussy was throbbing. I climbed off Randy, and saw that his condom was filled to be brim, as they say.

“That was some powerful secret you were living with,” I said to him afterwards. “But I hope I’ve helped you bring it out into the open, and relieve your distress.” Randy just smiled, but I knew I had made a new fuck-buddy.

If you’ve been working too hard and doing without sex, I’m here for you. If you’re getting enough sex but need an erotic tune-up, I’m here for you, too. If you’ve been contemplating a fantasy but have never realized it, my pussy is willing co-star with your cock in the hottest sexual drama you can imagine. Like any Bond Girl, I’m beautiful, sexy, smart, resourceful and versatile in bed. Contact me and let’s plan an erotic mission together!

Zoey Cherry

Hey baby, I’m Zoey Cherry. I’m an energetic and easygoing young lady. Working in a place like sagebrush is something I have always wanted to do and I am finally able to live my fantasy.I can’t wait to help you fulfill yours.

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