The first out call I ever did:
Actually only my 2nd ever appt, I went to this seriously gorgeous apartment in Highbury. Really properly stunning, and the guy.... I kid you not, an exact ringer for James Deen from Kink.com I was very very confused. Bought me in, gave me a wadge of cash, poured me a giant glass of delicious red wine and complimented me and had really interesting and charming conversation without making a single sexual move for the first hour of the 2 he paid for.
The whole time I am there I'm questioning- seriously why the fuck is this guy paying me- he could have supermodels lined up at the door with his looks, charisma and money. Then he goes very bashful, asks if I'd like to go down to his wet room. It's also ridiculously stunning by the way. I think we are gonna fuck in the shower but he lies on the ground and says ' I am your toilet- shit in my mouth and let me eat the filth from your arsehole'..... (question answered)
So I try and stay professional, and actually try to perform the task at hand. But I can't. I literally can't do it. I sit on his face for 20 minutes clenching and squeezing... but nothing. Total stage fright. Eventually I squeeze so hard I fart on his face. And I am mortified. I get up in horror, looking at him with my face red with chagrin and apologise 500 times. He laughs, I laugh- I give me a handy and I leave. Never saw him again but still my most memorable session.