TER General Board

Re:Report From The Field (33)
BostonBakedBean 1102 reads
posted

Hey Jockeypants,

Thanks for taking the time to write your report. For me it was right on point and I envy you. To elaborate a little, your situation is one I've been trying to get into for years without much success.
Background is needed but I'll keep it short. In my 20s I was a bartender and nightclub manager for 8 years. It was a blast, filled with real people. The people working the saloons were a breed unto themselves, living different lives under the cloak of night time hours that usually consisted of having breakfast at 5 am and visiting the airport to watch the sun come up. Safe and secure that there was another day we were able to get some sleep.

Then I spent from 1976 to 1993 as a Certified Public Accountant and well respected tax expert. I became a partner in my firm in 1987 with 9 other partners and 110 professional employees. I became the Director of Taxes for the firm in 1989. My two Master degrees allowed me to be well accepted on the lecture circuit and teaching Graduate school in a well known University.

All of this abruptly came to an end in 1993 from a disability. Over the next few years, I went bankrupt, lost my home, lost my marriage, and lost (partially) my children when my ex moved to the Rocky Mountains from New England.

My disability prevented me from returning to my tax career for many reasons. I was perusing our local free speech rag and the escort ads and an Agency was looking for a driver. I got the job and loved it until the owner's girl claimed me solely for herself. After extracating her from a number of police situations, due to her alchohol and drug abuse, I started getting undeserved jeaously threats from the owner. That was it. Bye-Bye.

But the owner blocked me from getting another driver's job at a number of other agencies.
Alas, there are A**holes in every business.

After 5 years I'm trying again. From my brief good experience as a driver, I am convinced that the providers and their other significant people are the same as Saloon people. Your report from the field confirms that fact. Thank you.

Wanda came to town and Penthesulia and I drove down to LAX to pick her up.  (This was days before they gave me a freaky hand-job…but I’ll tell you about that in a moment.)
The three of us got some enchiladas and then we got Wanda to her hotel so she could get ready for “Golden-Shower-Boy” or “Narcissus-Guy” or whoever the hell booked her that evening.

All these handles, nicknames and aliases in this hobby…  when I actually hear a fella’s real name I get confused.  One of the ladies will say something like:
   “I saw John again the other night.  He’s a sweetie.”
And I’ll have a puzzled look on my face until she reminds me of his “pet-name”:
   “Butt-Licker”
Oh Yes!  I know ALL about Butt-Licker!!

(I’m making these names up…by the way…just in case any of you actually go by the pet name of “Butt-Licker” with your ATF.)
All these code-names might be fun, but in everyone’s efforts for privacy we reduce ourselves (sometimes) to a guy called “Butt-Licker”  

Not the “real you”, I’m guessing.

I don’t know any of your REAL identities but I’ve been trusted with more important details about you.  I know that “Narcissist-Guy” puts Wanda in a sad mood for a couple hours.  I know that “Golden-Shower-Boy” makes her feel empowered.  I know that “Butt-Licker” and her have a regular weekly date.  Some of Penthesulia’s pet-names for clients are so hilarious and precise that I won’t repeat them here in case any of them are TER members.

I’m Jockeypants.  I’m the one that’s waiting in the car for you to finish so Wanda and I can get to a dinner party or something.  I’m waiting for Penthesulia to finish spanking you-to-climax so she & I can go to the cheap-ass movie theater.  I want to know how your chemistry affects these two ladies so I can nurture them afterwards (if they need & want it) because these are my friends and that’s what friends do.  I love them.  We’re getting pretty dang tight.  (I’m supposed to take Wanda’s kids to Hollywood when they come for a visit.  I live in Penthesulia’s house for a week at time when she’s on tour so I can feed the cats and sleep with her pit bull, who doesn’t like to sleep alone and is the definitive bed-entrepreneur.  Wanda calls me when she’s driving home after a late-night client so I can keep her awake.  Stuff like that.)

Forgive me.  Recently I’ve been getting hypersensitive about the kind of nickname that allows people to do much hiding.  (Beyond the understandable privacy issues, I hate that computer-people treat each other so poorly sometimes because they never think their identity is going to be discovered.  It can make people rude.  It can make them do things that are mean-spirited.  It can make them treat others like objects.

I went on a civilian date with a woman a couple weeks ago.  One of those dating websites.  We went on two dates and when I asked about a third she said, gently,
“I don’t find you physically attractive.”
Dang.  That’s cold!  Whatever happened to that “chemistry” line women used to say to me in college?  I wish the first thought in my mind was “Well, that seems shallow considering I’ve been making you laugh your ass off for five hours straight” but the first thing that shot through my head was: “Shit lady, NOBODY finds me physically attractive.  That’s why I pay half a week’s paycheck for an hour of Fantasy Dreams with Ceremonial Ejaculation at the end.

One reason I love my close provider friends is because they know first hand about being an object.  A literal object.  And the intuitive ones become better people because of recognizing it.  I’m treated better by providers, even if I’m not a potential customer.

Anyway, the three of us were sitting in Penthesulia’s back porch and Wanda said that she had attempted to give a guy a prostate massage while giving him a blowjob.  The guy had teased her a little because she was inexperienced at prostate stimulation.  She asked Penthesulia to teach her.

They both looked at me.

The things I do for love.

So we’re in the bedroom and I get naked and I’m on my back.  They’re in their sweats huddled over my netherworld.  Wanda yanks on a glove and lubes up my ass and slides her finger in without much fanfare, asking if I feel anything.  Hmmmm.

Now you might be of the school that one gal’s finger up your rim is pretty much like any other’s.

It’s just not the case, my friend.  First of all, there are the other fingers and what to do with them.  (At first Wanda didn’t have any control over them so there was, how shall I put this: excess poking of butt cheeks, distracting from the Internal Stimulation.)

Wanda was getting the basic lesson from Penthesulia and it was kind of hilarious being their Test-Ass.  Just two friends in their sit-around-the-house clothes and latex gloves.  Not particularly in glamour mode.)  They were concentrated like scientists, talking about how to finger a prostate while Penthesulia was absently fondling my cock with Astroglide.

“Normally I’d be giving a blowjob now”, she said.
“Of course”, Wanda replied.
“How does that feel, Jockey?”
“Good, thanks.”
“How do you like being looked at like an object”, one of them teased?

I’m 300 pounds and live in fashion-conscious Southern California…I’m always looked at like an object, I thought.

After Wanda was getting the hang of it they switched positions and Penthesulia demonstrated her technique on me.
The difference in experience showed.  Penthesulia’s skilled fingers hit all the nice spots and she started her hand job in earnest.  Oooo, that feels nice!

Then ooops:  I suddenly felt like proper decorum dictated that I needed to ejaculate.
Frankly, I didn’t know what to expect when I lay down.  At first it definitely seemed like I was going to be used as a very willing teaching-prop and then we’d go back to the porch and pet the dog.  It was decidedly not romantic, but very nice fuel for when I went home and jacked-off.  But now Wanda’s giving me a little smooch and Penthesulia’s telling me to yank on my nipples and she’s hand-jobbing and prostating and it all felt lovely!  I hadn’t been “warmed-up”…so to speak…but now that the lesson was over they were being a little frisky.  The experience started ass-backwards but it finished with my eyes glazed over!

Literally, the only difference between my fantastic civilian friends and my amazing provider friends are the occasional forays into their professional life when they have need of, say, a guy watching them have sex from the hotel closet or someone to practice sticking their fingers up an ass.  Happy to help!  Absolutely delighted.  It makes me the opposite of an object.  It puts me in a relationship that doesn’t have judgment and visceral hang-ups.

I’m a bit of a romantic in a hobbyist’s body.  Can’t do the mindless sex thing.  Got to be engaged.  It’s what separates Man from Objects.

That’s the report from the field.
 Love,
Jockeypants

Great post.  Funny as hell.  At least they didn't try to both get in there at the same time and call the neighbors over to see if they could set a Guiness Book of Records event.
 I don't know how you're going to get all of that into the video.
B

Hey Jockeypants,

Thanks for taking the time to write your report. For me it was right on point and I envy you. To elaborate a little, your situation is one I've been trying to get into for years without much success.
Background is needed but I'll keep it short. In my 20s I was a bartender and nightclub manager for 8 years. It was a blast, filled with real people. The people working the saloons were a breed unto themselves, living different lives under the cloak of night time hours that usually consisted of having breakfast at 5 am and visiting the airport to watch the sun come up. Safe and secure that there was another day we were able to get some sleep.

Then I spent from 1976 to 1993 as a Certified Public Accountant and well respected tax expert. I became a partner in my firm in 1987 with 9 other partners and 110 professional employees. I became the Director of Taxes for the firm in 1989. My two Master degrees allowed me to be well accepted on the lecture circuit and teaching Graduate school in a well known University.

All of this abruptly came to an end in 1993 from a disability. Over the next few years, I went bankrupt, lost my home, lost my marriage, and lost (partially) my children when my ex moved to the Rocky Mountains from New England.

My disability prevented me from returning to my tax career for many reasons. I was perusing our local free speech rag and the escort ads and an Agency was looking for a driver. I got the job and loved it until the owner's girl claimed me solely for herself. After extracating her from a number of police situations, due to her alchohol and drug abuse, I started getting undeserved jeaously threats from the owner. That was it. Bye-Bye.

But the owner blocked me from getting another driver's job at a number of other agencies.
Alas, there are A**holes in every business.

After 5 years I'm trying again. From my brief good experience as a driver, I am convinced that the providers and their other significant people are the same as Saloon people. Your report from the field confirms that fact. Thank you.

Bizzaro Superdude1282 reads

The experience of civies and providers -yup for my part true.  In fact, I am probably shamed by many of my provider friends - they are better friends to me - than me to them!  

nice read!  thanks.

I can always use a good deep laugh!  And it's nice to hear that you are out there enjoying yourself...

xoxo,
S.

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