Read Do it like Magic Mike (Regular Sex Issue 3) for Free Online

 
     
     
    Regular Sex 3 ~ Do it like Magic Mike
     
    I fuck for a
living and I fucking love my job.
     
    Some say that
makes me sleazy.
    I say it makes me
lucky.
     
    You decide. Hire
me.
     
    Wait up, wait up.
I can practically see you frowning at your e-reader. It’s all well and good for
me to shout about my job because I’m a guy, but if I were a woman I’d be hung,
drawn and quartered for being so brazen about being an escort, and you’re
totally right. You’re right and it sucks big hairy balls, but hey, I didn’t
make the rules. I just live by them, okay?
    But for the
record... you should totally think about hiring me. I promise you, you want sex
with me because I’m officially the world’s best fuck. Ask my very happy clients
if you don’t believe me, or read the testimonials on the back of my business
cards. I don’t make this shit up, you know; I’ve worked hard to get my
reputation. Really, really hard. Like as hard as it fucking gets. Check this
out...
     
    ‘Finn is my perfect
man. He’s got the manners of a prince, the cock of a donkey, and jeez, does he
know what to do with it.’ Ms. J, age 32
     
    ‘Finn made me
laugh in the restaurant and scream in the bedroom. I swear I didn’t walk
straight for a week.’ Ms. Y, age 47
     
    ‘Finn was a birthday
gift from my girlfriends - let’s just say I know what I’m putting on my
Christmas list! Send me Finn, Santa, I want to be a very bad girl again!’ Ms.
S, age undisclosed.
     
    The list goes on.
I love women, and women love me back. What can I say? My life is pretty fucking
perfect.
    Take tonight’s
booking. I get a lot of repeat work, but this is someone brand new. Newbies are
my favourite bookings of all; I get off on the excitement of not knowing what,
or should I say who, is coming. Perhaps they see my card or my website advertised
somewhere, or maybe I come recommended by a satisfied girlfriend. Sometimes I
escort people to a work function, sometimes I’m a fake boyfriend at family weddings;
I’ve even been a husband once at a school reunion. I make my ladies look good
in public, and then behind closed doors, I make them feel good. Better than
good. Book me and you have my cast iron guarantee that I’ll make you feel
fan-fuckin-tastic three times over before I leave you bow legged and in need of
twenty-four hours straight sleep.
    A girl told me once
that she couldn’t orgasm.
    Listen; don’t
throw the gauntlet down at me unless you have the chops to at least put up a
decent fight. Less than five minutes later she was singing the hallelujah
chorus and bucking like a bronco on my cock. That girl came so hard she gushed
as if she’d peed herself, and then she paid me double for my trouble. Believe
you me - it was no trouble at all.
    I just get the female body. I’ve made it my life’s work ever since I was old enough to get
inside a girl’s knickers.
    You know what my
favourite thing in the world is? A woman’s clit. I’ve seen more than my fair
share, and there isn’t one I haven’t loved. So secretive, so coy, peeping out
of its hood, beckoning to me. Do you ladies realise how lucky you are to have
an organ designed purely for your pleasure? You’re all so fucking beautiful
down there girls, it’s like you were created by a world class sculptor. And that
sound you make when I lower my mouth and start to lick you? It’s pure fucking
music, man.
    I’m a diligent
student. I’ve read the books, I’ve studied the art, and I’ve practiced until I’m
perfect, but that doesn’t mean that any other guy could reach my standard if he
puts the hours in. Sure, I’ve done my homework, but that’s not the thing that sets
me apart. It’s an instinctive thing; when I have a woman in my hands, I just
know what she needs. It’s an intuitive talent, and it’s the reason both my diary
and my bank account is bursting at the seams.
    Anyway, about
tonight. This girl contacted me by email, recommended by a friend of a friend, she
said.