Butt Butter Remember earlier when I told you to Google butt butter? I’m not sure if you actually did. But if you did… Then you already know exactly the texture this story is about. If you didn’t… Well… Picture Crisco. Now imagine Crisco’s slightly kinkier cousin. Congratulations. You’ve just met butt butter. Now, despite what people think, most of my days at the studio are pretty straightforward. Your standard massage. A happy ending. The occasional extra. You know… The glory

The Story of the Glass Eye… When I say weird stuff happens in this industry… I mean weird stuff. By now you’ve probably read a few of my stories, so you already know that working in a studio means you see things the average person couldn’t make up if they tried. This one, however… This one has always been one of my favourites. So pull up a chair. Let me tell you about Marty. I’m calling him Marty because, sadly, he has since passed away, but I had the absolute pleasure of kno

The Story of How I Rocky Balboa’d a Guy in the Face at Work… Yep… you read that right. I broke a guy’s nose in session. Kind of badass, right? …In my defense, he absolutely earned it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—respect goes a long way. And part of respect is understanding there’s a massive difference between a cute little playful nibble… and going full rabid raccoon. I’m talking teeth marks. Canines. Molars. The whole damn dental chart. So here’s what happened…

Working at a studio means you hear everything. People confess secrets, overshare life stories, trauma dump halfway through appointments, and occasionally tell you things that make your brain briefly blue-screen while you try to remain professional. This… was one of those days. It started completely normal. A new client walks in — well dressed, polite, clean-cut, totally average. No red flags. No weird vibes. Just your standard “nice enough guy” energy. We head to the room, di

Ghost Face Oh, glory, glory… Welcome to the glory hole. Ever since I first laid eyes on one, I wanted one. Not for decorating purposes. Not because I thought it would look classy. No. I wanted one because I wanted to be behind it. Stick me behind a curtain with a four-inch hole in it and I’m about as happy as a fat kid with a handful of Skittles. I know… It’s not everybody’s cup of tea. The idea of kneeling behind a curtain while some random stranger pokes his random cock thr

“Get Naked.” I’ve been asked more times than I can count why I always say, “Get naked.” I guess if I were a superhero ho… That’d probably be my catchphrase. Cape optional. But let’s back up a bit. Back when I first started… You know, back when Justin Bieber was still a kid and Breaking Bad had just premiered on TV. Yeah… I’ve been around that long. Crazy, hey? People always ask how I still look so young. Good genetics. …And a shit ton of Botox. My body is held together by equ

Someone’s Getting Fucked… Let me start off by saying something. The vast majority of the gentlemen who walk through the doors of these studios are exactly that… Gentlemen. They’re kind. Respectful. Polite. Some are lonely. Some are grieving. Some just need someone to talk to for an hour. Then… There are the others. The ones that end up in stories like this. So this particular day started like any other day at the studio. A gentleman walks in asking about services. Nothing wei

The Lysol Can… Remember how I said I’d eventually get back to the Lysol can? Well… Here we are. After doing this job for nearly two decades, I’ve seen weird. Actually… Scratch that. Weird doesn’t even register anymore. Weird has become normal. Like sticking your hand into a tub of butt butter kind of normal. Don’t know what butt butter is? Google it. I’ll wait. … Delightful, isn’t it? So how exactly does someone get to the point where a Lysol can becomes part of the conversat

I reached over and turned on the tap. “You just lie there, darling,” I’d say. “It takes a bit for the water to heat up.” For the most part, that was true. Seriously… the hot water took forever. But it was also part of the ritual. I’d stand there watching the bubbles swirl around the sink before disappearing down the drain. It almost felt like a little reset button. A cleansing of sorts. Somewhere between watching the soap disappear and drying myself off, my brain would alread