Becoming Anabelle Part I – Black Pants Man

The man I consider to be my first client doesn’t actually know he was a client. He hadn’t booked an escort, he hadn’t visited “Adultworks”, or stumbled across Anabelle. He was on “MarriedAffair.com” the day that I, out of curiosity, had Googled, “What’s an NSA?” 

 

I had always been highly sexual, but 15 or so years ago I was also incredibly ignorant of anything sexual outside of the confines of a monogamous relationship. I had been married for 13 years, monogamous and completely faithful to the man I had married for nearly 20 years. I didn’t particularly believe in monogamy. I just didn’t, at the time, know of any alternatives.

 

I do believe in honesty. Being as truthful and honest as you can be, to yourself, and to others. And part of honesty is accepting the things that you are not. I think these were the kinds of thoughts that were swirling through my head on the day I Googled, “What’s an NSA?” 

 

Google did what Google does and didn’t just reply with the answer, “NSA, meaning ‘no strings attached’, are websites where people meet for casual sex.” 

 

Google offered me a list of NSA sites.

 

For a woman who didn’t believe in monogamy but had always been religiously monogamous and completely honest, I was intrigued about who uses an NSA site. What kind of people lurked out in this underbelly of society? My insatiable curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on the top link.

 

Of course, how naive of me, they don’t let you nose around without having some skin in the game, I needed to create a profile. I chose the name “Bonny” after my pretty pony who had been a frisky and, at times, challenging ride – it seemed apt and made me smile. I needed to write a few words, without much thought I quickly typed, “I’m married, have a boyfriend but need more sex, can you help out?” Enter.

 

It was unbelievably thrilling. I skipped downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee, hugging myself in delight at the audacity of my behaviour. Could I really just meet random men for completely casual sex? I didn’t know if I was brave enough, but I did know that I really, really wanted to. My body, my cunt in particular, was fizzing with excitement as I tamped my ground coffee into my stove top coffee pot.

 

Coffee in hand I returned to the laptop in my bedroom, wiggled the mouse to open up the screen and was greeted with the reality of being a sexually available woman in a society starved of sex. In the short time it had taken me to make my coffee I had been inundated with messages on the site. I hadn’t even uploaded a picture. How could so many men want to fuck me when they knew nothing about me other than the fact that I wanted sex? Could it really be this easy?!

 

The Boyfriend had told me to find a hobby to keep myself busy during the weeks we were apart, and on the weekends we were together but he chose to leave me on my own to do DIY or play sports. Had I found my hobby? My cunt throbbed her answer – an emphatic “YES!!”

 

I decided I would be fair and respond in order of time received, then, diary, permitting, I would meet them all. They had made the effort to message me after all – the least I could do was find a slot in my “mummy diary” for them. I did decide on one caveat though, there was a limit as to how far I would travel to meet them. Due to our personal circumstances, I did all the driving to meet The Boyfriend, I wasn’t going to spend any more on petrol for this new hobby. They would have to come to me.

 

I clicked on the first message. It opened to reveal a middle aged male torso cut off at the neck and knees wearing, yes, you’ve guessed it, a pair of black pants. It made me giggle. It was an awful photo to attract a woman. No mystery, no style, nothing erotic or poetic, just a slightly flabby body in a pair of M&S pants. But he lived very locally, so not much travel. He wondered if we could meet today? I looked at the clock, I had time before I needed to be at the school gates, I replied, “Yes, I have time, where do you suggest we meet?” 

 

I heard Jenny, our cleaner arrive with her usual bright, “Hello” and rushed downstairs with my favourite, but very crumpled, summer dress in hand. “Jenny – please, please, please could you iron this for me while I have a quick shower? I’ve found my new hobby…..I’m starting it today…..I’m off to meet this guy I have just met online – for SEX!!”

 

She stared at me, started laughing and stared some more, then said, “What?!” Jenny is AMAZING and had, by this point, watched a seriously depressed woman pull herself out of the darkness  (by amongst other things, my first round of spiritual training), then fall in love with The Boyfriend and persuade The Husband to let me have him in my life, but this was, shall we say, an unexpected step.

 

She didn’t tell me not to, she just asked me to be safe. I told her I would tell her where we were meeting and promised to text her on my way to school afterwards. I assured her I’d be fine. I had a very strong feeling that Bonny knew how to handle herself. 

 

I ran upstairs to check his reply before I jumped in the shower. I wiggled the mouse, nothing. My screen opened but the page I was talking to him on had vanished. There was no getting it back, this was 2014, years before our village got super fast broadband, and our internet was down – again. It was a good thing. It stopped me from making a mistake. In all my excitement about making choices and taking actions that pleased me, I had forgotten to think about The Boyfriend. I owed him, as well as myself, complete honesty and it was better to tell him of my intentions before I met Black Pants Man rather than afterwards. 

 

The first opportunity we had to talk was the following afternoon, a hot Saturday. I remember vividly sitting under the tree in the garden quietly explaining my genius plan as the children played in the sun around me. You may not be surprised to hear that he was a little bit less enthusiastic! He clothed his “NO” in concern for my safety, which, as a grown woman I was confident in brushing aside. We then spent the entire weekend haggling. 

 

I was very surprised to face this much push back. It was him after all who had told me to find a hobby. It was him that left our love making for his hobbies, who was he to judge how I then chose to use my time? I was learning that under patriarchy even really nice men believe that they own their women (ironic, because he was, after all, The Boyfriend, not The Husband.)

 

During the haggling I had checked the website, Black Pants Man and I had settled on a time and a place – Bluebell Woods, meeting in the car park on Monday morning at 9.30am conveniently after school drop off. I was on the phone for 2 hours with the Boyfriend that morning from 5am until the kids woke up at 7am with him begging me not to go ahead with the meet. But I have a funny thing about following through on commitments – to myself and other people. 

 

I had been honest and kept him informed, how he felt in response to my choices was for him to deal with, if it meant ending our relationship, I knew I’d be sad, but I also knew that I had to live my future life differently to my past life. I had, after all, repeatedly asked him to spend our weekends with me instead of filling them with sporting fixtures, I wasn’t doing this to punish him, just to please me, like his sport pleased him.

 

I followed Black Pants Man’s instructions and found Bluebell Wood’s car park easily. I parked my battered hatchback alongside a black Range Rover with personalised number plates. Easily big enough to transport a body, I noted, so it was with relief that the man inside emerged in a pair of shorts, deck shoes and a tennis shirt. Very middle class, very middle England, no chain saw in sight. 

 

I opened my boot and removed the basket with a picnic blanket, condoms, wipes and a bottle of water. Packing for sex with a stranger was not that different to packing for a day out with the kids – just swap the apples and fruisli bars for condoms! Typical man, he hadn’t considered condoms (why is this always so irritating?) or wipes or a picnic blanket. I guess he doesn’t do practicalities in his fantasies. Luckily he was meeting a very practical woman. 

 

We greeted each other with an awkward kiss on the cheeks then walked off together with the, not so easy as it turns out, task of finding a suitable spot. If you don’t want to be seen, outside sex is tricky to pull off. I had no desire to be watched or arrested, so it mattered to me that we find somewhere secluded but not prickly (obviously). Eventually we found a good enough spot and, mindful of the time, I efficiently laid out the picnic blanket and removed my dress.

 

In a new and rather nice set of red bra and panties, I stepped into his space and started kissing him. I had never been so forward before and it utterly thrilled me. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know what a sensible, practical, capable mother I am. How I bake an awesome fruit cake for every village and school event. How I walk the dogs every morning at 6am so that they’re “done” by the time the kids wake up for school. He didn’t know me as a teacher, PTA member, neighbour, friend. All he knew was he was about to have sex with this confident, self assured and incredibly sexy woman. I liked that. I really enjoyed playing the role. So much more fun than apron wearing mother in the kitchen!

 

The actual sex, from what I remember was very mediocre and quite dull. Neither of us were particularly experienced and beyond the thrill of meeting a stranger, there was nothing else to pull us together. We both wanted sex, had both been available on the same day and open to having it. That was it. It was very functional. Of the actual sex, only two moments remain in my memory. 

 

One was when a golden retriever sniffed us out in the bushes. Its owner, a woman, was on a walk with another woman and stood yards away from us calling for her dog. We lay, mid fuck, completely still. I think I may have stopped breathing. I dreaded being caught by two furious and self righteous women – I just sensed they wouldn’t laugh (which breed of dog would have owners that would laugh upon discovering a middle aged couple having sex in Bluebell woods at 10am on a Monday morning?!) Fortunately the lure of treats pulled the dog away from Black Pants Man’s balls and as the women walked off we were able to return to good old, honest, fucking.

 

My second memory is that as the fucking dragged on and I got a bit bored, I flipped myself over into the doggy position, both to vary the experience and also in the hope that a different position might bring things to a conclusion. But Black Pants Man surprised me and, I still think, given that I wasn’t yet a professional, it was a bit rude. He pulled out of my vagina and pushed into my anus. No request, no warning or warm up with fingers or tongue, just a direct and very abrupt swap. You’ll know by now that that is never the way to enter another person’s arse, but as I was on my own little adventure, training myself to be a happy whore, I didn’t make a fuss, I pushed back against him and took it all.

 

He came, withdrew and I dealt with the condom. It’s why we bring wipes to casual sex meets boys! We dressed, I rolled up the picnic blanket and we headed back to our cars. This was when we made small talk – after sex – a pattern I continue to this day. He told me he had a personalised number plate so that no-one knew the age of his car. I had never considered that such a thing mattered, but I’m not from these parts. 

 

He also told me that he and his wife never have sex. That they weren’t compatible and had never really loved or fancied each other. 

 

“Why on earth did you marry her then?” I asked.

 

“I did it to please my mother.”

 

“Was she pleased?”

 

“Yes, I think so. She’s dead now.”

 

“I’m sorry…..so why not…..kindly of course…..get divorced and free each other to find a sexy and loving relationship?”

 

“I’ve thought about that, but we have a very nice house.”

 

How very English. How very middle class. How unbelievably predictable. I’ve learned as Anabelle that it’s far from uncommon for British couples to stay together in dead and unhappy marriages not for the children (as in my childhood) but for the house. 

 

Peeps, houses don’t care! They DO NOT love you!! But I must not be judgemental, shelter one above sex and more important than love on Maslov’s Hierarchy of Needs, maybe he’s right to hold onto his house rather than seek deep love (and thrilling sex?) 

 

He asked me what I did, I told him I was a mum and a part-time teacher, that I was separated from my husband and slowly working out how to afford a new life for myself and the kids nearer to my boyfriend. Then, rather audaciously, I voiced my big secret, “You know what, I think what I secretly most want is to become a prostitute.”

 

To my surprise this shocked him and rather unbelievably he became quite judgemental. Meeting a strange man for sex in the woods was apparently absolutely fine, but charging for my time somehow made me untouchable? It was interesting to me that being a very cheap slut (actually completely free) was more socially acceptable to Black Pants Man who-drives-a-black-Range-Rover-with-personalised- number-plates-so-that-you-don’t-know-the-real-age-of-his car than sinking into the gutter completely and becoming, whisper it, “a prostitute.”

 

It was, and is, so obviously ludicrous. On my drive home I pondered at his hypocrisy and noted that his stance was most convenient for him – why pay for something that your sexy profile pic can get for free?! It infuriated me that in his model of the universe somehow paying for sex devalued the sex? Maybe he was suffering under the illusion that he would become a regular lover of mine, that his M&S pants and cheeky fuck up the arse had won me over to the charms of Mr Very Ordinary Middle England?

 

Not a chance!

 

I accepted I needed to do more research and hone my skills a bit. But Black Pants Man had set me on course, whether he approved or not, to create Anabelle. And like it or not mate, you were my first client. After you I knew I could fuck anyone. I learned that it’s not the person, it’s the act I enjoy. 

 

I had created Bonny – Anabelle’s early self – I was on my way. There was no looking back – much to The Boyfriend’s confusion and chagrin. It soon turned out that he was much more similar in outlook to Black Pants Man than to me. 

 

We painfully parted ways but not before my second “happy whore adventure” – the night I met Tinkerbelle.

My Terms and Conditions (and Why They Are Necessary)

The vast majority of my clients are really lovely, lovely, lovely people. They find my site, decide they can trust me, book an appointment, show up on the agreed date, and politely wait for me to be ready at our agreed time. 

 

When I open the door they are very often a bit nervous or anxious but they have taken a slot in my diary so they have the respect and personal integrity to show up as they said they would. We then go on to have an amazing session, their nerves soon vanish and they leave restored, happy, connected, and feeling alive again.

 

Because the vast majority of my clients are such lovely people, who like me, have developed personal integrity and have a natural respect for other people, I continue to resist the oft given advice that I should take non-refundable deposits from all of my clients at the time of booking. 

 

I work with energy and haven’t wanted to bring in the energy of distrust into my business. I sincerely believe that if I don’t trust the people who book with me, I will draw people who are not trustworthy into my life.  

 

My approach has worked for many years but it is not without its difficulties. My limited availability,  taking only one booking per day, ensures quality of service but leaves me especially vulnerable to someone changing their mind at the last minute.

 

I think many people reading this would be shocked by how casually I have been treated over the years. We live in a disposable, throw away culture, and sadly, increasingly, that is the way more and more people are treating their fellow humans.

 

And still, the vast majority of my clients are really lovely, respectful and appreciative people.  I don’t want to scare away the good guys because I have to deal with a few rotten ones!

 

So, here’s my deal (T&Cs) which I ask you to agree to before making an initial booking with me.

 

1. We will agree on a date which we both commit to. If for whatever reason one of us has to cancel we will do so with as much notice as possible.

 

2. I will send out a confirmation message the week before the date of the appointment (usually on a Thursday). You will take responsibility to reply to that message to secure your booking and understand that if you do not reply to that message, or my follow up messages, that the date will then be offered to my cancellation list.

 

3. I will get myself and my work space ready for the agreed time and you will make your way here for that agreed time.

 

I understand that on booking my service you want the process to feel comfortable, kind and for it to be an experience of mutual trust.  As a human being you, like me, deserve to feel that level of respect. 

 

So I will continue, for now, to operate on trust for the first booking. 

 

However, mess me around once and you will not be afforded that same level of trust again.

 

I will not refuse to take a booking from you again, there will just be conditions, which I will decide on a case by case basis (taking into account the amount of time given for the cancellation, the reason given for the cancellation, and even the level of politeness, respect and kindness – the way you handle my humanity – in your messages).

 

My conditions may include:

 

  • Taking full payment on any future booking at the time of booking

 

  • Taking a non-refundable, date-specific deposit on any future booking at the time of booking

 

It is with great sadness that I find myself needing to write these T&Cs and, I take great comfort in the knowledge that 95% plus of my clients are such lovely people that they will wholeheartedly agree with every word I have written and accept them without difficulty.

 

Thank you – you restore my faith in men and I look forward to seeing you soon.

The Number 1 rule of a sex worker

The “Number One Rule” of Sex Work & Why I Ignore it

The text will say something like, “Can I ask you a question?”

To which I reply, “Of course :)”

“I hope I won’t offend you…”

“I am fairly unshockable, don’t worry!”

“Do you allow kissing?”

Every time I am asked this I spit out a mouthful of tea!

Given that my services involve full sex this is such a sweet, almost naive, question to be asked.

My answer, always, is that I cannot imagine doing this work without lots and lots of kissing!

I too have seen “Pretty Woman” plenty of times – I love, love, love both Julia Roberts and Richard Gere (he was my first big crush). So I also know that the “Number one rule of sex work is – don’t kiss your clients.” From memory, the premise of the film is that if you kiss your clients an emotional bond will be formed and that will become messy. Far better to stick to the commercial exchange of penetrative sex for money keeping any chance of connection away from the exchange.

In my 10 years of actually working with clients I could probably count on one hand the number of individuals who came for a connection-free experience. No-one wants sex without connection. Not me and certainly not my clients.

Human beings (as distinct from human doings) are hard-wired for connection. We crave deep physical, emotional and spiritual connection – it’s how we remember we are human and reconnect to our own humanity.

In a world that is rushing to turn us into ever more efficient robots, it is in the moments of deep connection with another human that we are nourished and are able to re-connect with our own soul, which is surely THE THING that distinguishes us from the robots they wish to turn us into?

In my opinion kissing is one of the foundations of sex. It’s highly erotic, highly arousing and best of all anyone can do it! There is no performance pressure for anyone around kissing, just lips connecting as hands gently stroke and explore. I could kiss for hours. And it’s really good for you too: the stimulation of the mouth’s nerves releases endorphins which reduces stress and leads you into a state of euphoria. I know I would rather kiss than meditate my way to low blood pressure!

Controversially (if you are of the “Pretty Woman” school of thought) kissing triggers the release of oxytocin, the bonding and love hormone, thus building emotional and physical bonding between the kissers and signalling to the body that this person is safe to have sex with. Removing kissing from sex workers would thus increase their body’s unease with the sex that they’re selling, turning a potentially beautiful experience into a more brutal and exploitative exchange. Western culture has a problematical relationship with sex workers – this is just one of the many ways it rears its ugly head.

I haven’t met a single client EVER who wants to exploit me or use me. I’m not saying that these kind of clients don’t exist, I just haven’t attracted them into my orbit. I meet people who are open and honest about craving connection – with me, with a power within themselves or sometimes with an energy/power beyond themselves – whatever type of connection is sought, the one constant is that they crave connection and kissing is the path to that connection.

When oxytocin flows through your body, you are not only connecting to the person you are with, you are also able to connect with yourself – with energy, emotions, sensations, feelings that you spend most of every day life unaware of. It is immensely powerful to slow down and spend time in a space where it is safe to connect again.

Can Tantra Help with my “Sexual Dysfunction”?

The Joy of Soft Cock is the title of one of my yet-to-be-written books. This is only a short blog post, but it is the essence of me and my work, so I am going to try and condense my thinking and experience to under 1,000 words. Here goes….

 

I think I am going to start, right at the beginning, with the story of my first encounter with a soft cock. I was in my early 40s, passionately in love with a man I saw for only two nights a fortnight. As you will know by now, I am a highly sexual woman, and for twelve nights out of fourteen I was having no sex – so those two nights had to really count! I was younger and much more naive back then, and I thought sex could not happen without an erection. I also, subconsciously at least, believed that it was my responsibility to arouse a man to make him erect. If he desired me (because of my behaviour and/or my looks) then he would get an erection, and if he didn’t get an erection, that meant he didn’t desire me (because of my behaviour and/or my looks).

 

On one of my precious nights with my delicious lover, we were rolling about in bed, kissing, stroking, my hand moved down to his groin to delight in his throbbing manhood and was met by limp flesh. I was horrified. I froze in panic. Honestly, the thoughts running through my head were not, “Poor love, he must be tired or stressed, or both” they were,

“SHIT, he’s gone off me!!!”

“Have I farted?”

“Did I make it obvious that I was bored by his rugby story?”

“OMG, have I got a spot on my nose????!!!!”

 

Then something quite magical happened –  maybe my current self visited my younger self and whispered some words of wisdom in her ears? I don’t know?  But with divine timing, something did, because lying there in his arms, my hand still touching his flaccid phallus, I suddenly knew that his lack of erection was nothing whatsoever to do with me or his lack of desire for me. I knew how much he loved me and how much he enjoyed sex with me – he had told me often enough. I didn’t ask him about it; I decided instead not to make any issue out of it at all. I just stroked it, kissed him and ground my pelvis against his body. We were going to have sex with or without an erection!

 

As I took control of my freaked-out nervous system I stepped into a power within me that I had not connected with before. Sex was something I could initiate, and I didn’t need the permission or presence of an erection to initiate it. As I felt this power, or knowing, spread through my body, his limp cock stopped feeling alien and a bit repulsive and started to feel velvety soft and erotic. I realised I could hold it all in one hand, manoeuvre it around and play with it, squishing it, like Play-Doh, between my fingers in a way that I never could when handling a rigid erection. It was so much fun!

 

As I relaxed, so did he. The kissing did its usual magic, and we moved into some of the most intimate, beautiful sex that I had ever had. A few months later, I was at a funeral (of all places) when a fellow guest confided that he missed sex with his wife, but since his prostate op, he wasn’t able to meet her needs. I leaned in and said quietly, “You still have fingers, try those!”

 

Men and women both fear a lack of erection, and this fear gets in the way of them in the bedroom. If you remove the fear, you are able to go on to have outstandingly incredible sex again.

Men fear they will be judged for lack of performance and be deemed less manly or attractive. Women fear that, any day now, they will lose their man’s love and desire and that this will show up in the bedroom as a soft cock.

 

If you sat in a group of men and women and honestly talked about erections and the importance of them, you would hear women responding to the male fear around performance by saying, “Honey, the only performance that matters in the bedroom is how many times you make me come, you have fingers and a tongue, don’t you?”  Likewise, the men would look at their women and say, “Sometimes I am tired or drunk or stressed (or even all three) and this impacts my ability to sustain an erection, but in no way does that reflect how I feel about you!”

 

Erections also do just get less strong as men age. But this isn’t matched by male desire for his (or other) women! To restrict sex to times when there is a strong erection in the room is like living in England and refusing to step outside when the sun isn’t shining. It’s maddeningly restrictive. England is glorious in all seasons, as are cocks!

 

Repeated stress around non-erection sadly gets compounded in some people. Sometimes it is a beloved who expresses irritation or impatience at the presence of a soft cock, thinking that their needs for love and intimacy now can’t be met. I would have been one of these women if I hadn’t been lucky enough to have a download of inspiration and wisdom in such perfect, divine timing. If you’re a woman reading this, please understand the power of your words, spoken and unspoken, to harm or heal your man’s erection.

 

Sometimes, probably even more often, it is an internal voice – the inner critic – that causes compounded stress. I had one wonderful, wonderful client who had managed, with the assistance of his inner critic, to give himself erectile dysfunction (ED) because he was so, so stressed about how his premature ejaculation (PE) was failing his wife. He showed up, wondering if I could fix his complex mix of ED and PE. I replied that I wasn’t going to promise to fix anything, but I could promise to introduce him to an approach to sexuality that would cast his “dysfunction” in a new light and could be a path to renewed sexual pleasure for both himself and his wife.

 

In sessions with me, he connected with his sexual energy inside his body, learning to expand and move it with breath and attention alone. He went on to develop a regular practice at home, both in bed and in the privacy of his own garden, in which he would have incredible orgasms without even touching himself. I’ll never forget the morning I woke to a message from him saying, “Anabelle, I had my first earth orgasm today! I was standing barefoot on the grass, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, doing the breathing and moving the energy and then boom – it just flooded through me! It was absolutely incredible!! I want to announce this to the whole world! Why isn’t everybody doing this?!”

 

Before I met him, I had been running with the theory that maybe a soft cock is a portal or invitation to connect with your sexual energy in a deeper way? Erections can be very demanding – they show up with much urgency and heat – they can be a bit more goal-oriented rather than experience-oriented. Soft cocks have none of this urgency; they make no demands. They appreciate being touched, stroked, licked, and sucked just as much as erect cocks do, but they don’t threaten to explode at any moment – you can take your time and feast on them!  Thus, my theory was, when you aren’t being pestered by an erection, sex slows down, giving time for all parties to truly connect with the energy inside of their bodies, expanding and moving it with breath into fuller, richer, deeper orgasmic experiences.

 

My fabulous client confirmed my theory, especially with his message about his earth orgasm! I will happily say it loud and clear: your soft cock is not a “sexual dysfunction”. It is an opportunity, or a calling, to experience far deeper, more connected, more loving, more intimate AND MORE ORGASMIC SEX!!

 

I can confidently say that whilst tantric philosophy and practices may not give you a strong and/or long-lasting erection, they will give you indescribably good sex!

What's the hardest thing about my job?

What’s the hardest thing about my job? My answer may surprise you.

I created Anabelle in the Spring of 2016, 9 months before Tim Stokely launched OnlyFans. I haven’t substantially changed the way I work in the past decade, but OnlyFans has, I think, radically changed the way in which people access, view and enjoy sex work.

 

For centuries, sex was something you enjoyed in and with your body. People would physically meet and enjoy a sexual encounter in the hay bales, in a forest glade, behind the bike sheds, maybe sometimes even in a bed! Yes, people thought about sex, but the images in their heads would largely be from real-life sexual experiences they had first experienced in their bodies.

 

Photography and film began to move sex from a physical experience (in the body) into a mental experience (in the head). The internet turbocharged this process. Today you can access a continuous flow of images, both real and AI, moving and still, to feed an often voracious dopamine habit. I think both women and the art of sex have been degraded in this process.

 

In spiritual terms, prostitution is the act of selling your soul for money. In my work, I never feel like a prostitute, because I am following my soul’s calling. But when I have to engage with my site and feed it photographs – that is when I feel most like a prostitute, when I most feel as though I am selling my soul.

 

The ordeal of taking photographs for my site forces me to step into a world which is all about presentation and packaging: appearance, makeup, lingerie, and poses. It’s a world made for fake – fake boobs, fake lips, fake smiles. A world in which the photographer incites you to smile into the camera by suggesting that you, “Think about how much money he’s going to spend on you.” The fake world of film is as far removed from my experience of sex as I think is possible.

 

In my experience, sex is an authentic connection between two bodies, two energies, two souls. That’s what I delight in offering and giving.

 

How can you make such an offer visible? It is the intangibility of sex that gives it its magic.

 

Authentic sex in which you connect and feel and experience, is not visible. It is a feeling. It is a sensation. It cannot be turned into a photograph or a film; I don’t think many artists have managed to capture the magic. Words also fail to describe the experience because the English language isn’t a language of lovers –  it’s a language of bureaucrats. We lack the vocabulary to describe it and there’s no kind of image, painted or photographic, that can capture it. All you can do is drop into the space and experience. Yet I have to go through the ordeal of having photographs taken because that’s an essential part of every business’s marketing in the modern world.

 

And it’s an ordeal I absolutely hate because it reduces something so beautiful and so magical to something that, for me, just feels tawdry. You put my body in lingerie, pull it into poses to hide my belly, and I feel cheapened by a process that turns my 4D work into a 2D image. Worse, as I select the images that my bruised ego can cope with, I know I am conforming, as far as I am able, to stereotypes of what a sexy woman should look like: legs, boobs, bum –  but as little tum as possible!

 

As I get older, the process becomes more of an ordeal, and on more than one occasion, I have considered hanging up my stockings and calling it quits. But then I work with another beautiful soul, our energies connect, dancing together for an hour or 90 minutes, and I am reminded that sex is so much more beautiful and incredible than any image or film could ever dream of replicating.

 

The modern world fetishes youth above all else. Women (and increasingly men) are marketed endless products in a consumer culture that relies on our self-hatred for their profit and growth. Youth=beauty=sexy in our topsy turvy world. Our ageing bodies are deemed less sexy and erotic than youthful ones in our overly visual, material world. Never mind that the energy within our bodies – our quantum selves, if you like – is timeless, never ages and is more easily connected to, with age and experience.  Ironically, whilst the process of taking photographs gets harder and crueller with age, my confidence in my actual body and my work has grown exponentially over the past decade.

Choosing the session to reignite your fire

Choosing the Session to Reignite Your Fire!

So you’ve found my site, you love my photos and the words I use to describe my approach to sex and the services I offer; you’re close to making contact but you’re confused or undecided about which service you want. Let me try to help.

 

Being uncertain about which service to try for a first booking is probably the question I am asked the most and, much as I hate to answer a question with a question, it does very much depend on what you are looking for. So close your eyes, feel into your body and ask yourself:  “What do I really want to experience?”

And/or, “What desires are currently unmet in my life which I’d like Anabelle to help me fulfil?”

 

Many people with busy, demanding lives want to lie back and receive. I know when I am not working this is what I most want! Others want to take control from the start and experience real pleasure and turn on from watching and playing with my pleasure and turn on. If you’re in the latter group, you will not get what you want from an Adonis, Ra or Apollo massage.

 

Adonis and Apollo are both classic tantric massages in which you receive touch from me, but not vice versa. During both, you will experience your sexual energy in an expanded way, but you will not experience my sexual energy – she stays under wraps when I give either an Adonis or Apollo massage. In a Ra massage, you are both blindfolded and restrained, so my energy is even further removed from your experience.

 

Musubi, my body to body massage, is a more interactive massage than Adonis, Apollo or Ra. I use my body to activate and move sexual energy around your body and admit to getting quite turned on in the process (you try grinding your pubic mound into someone’s sacrum without feeling turned on!)

 

Musubi is the massage to book if you want a sensual, erotic experience which gets hot and steamy but doesn’t become full penetrative sex. Adonis and Apollo are for people who want to connect with energy within their bodies and to be helped to play with it for an extended period of time. Musubi is for someone who wants to feel  and interact with another body.

 

Then Kama. Kama is my “girlfriend experience” – nuanced sex industry speak for full sex (including penetration). It is supposedly all the good parts of having a girlfriend without any of the bad parts! My answer to people when they ask what is included in Kama is again a bit annoying. I don’t guarantee anything nor do I have a ban on anything. Sex is an experience between two (or more) people: their bodies, energies, emotions, minds, souls. Every single sexual experience is a unique moment in time because we are constantly changing and thus are different every single day.

 

I think the difference between the authentic experience I offer and the forced or fake experience that leaves one feeling empty (both ball sack empty and soul empty) is that I never, ever fake anything – ever. If I were to, say,  list “anal” as one of my list of DOs but then not feel like it on a particular day – for whatever reason – I would still feel pressured to do it and would then have to fake my pleasure leading to an exploitative and empty experience for both of us. So instead I answer, that nothing is guaranteed but nothing is off the table. I am genuinely very, very sexual. I enjoy being pleasured and I am a rewarding lover, I will very happily go wherever the energy flows.

 

I have had the most amazing, incredible, beautiful, indescribable sex with hundreds of clients over the years. Every single session has been unique and I have pretty much experienced everything. The younger me would probably condemn me as a tart, the older me celebrates that my soul has seriously got to live this human experience! I mean why else incarnate into a highly sexual body?!

 

For a successful Kama session my client does need to arrive with a certain level of confidence, charm or assurance. Kama is not the session to book if you are shy, uncertain or know you lack confidence. During a straight Kama session I see myself as a blank canvas for my client to paint his (or her) picture on. Or, if you like, a musical instrument that he (or she) plays his (her) tune on. Skilled lovers play my body incredibly and have an amazing time. Unskilled clients make the mistake of undressing themselves, lying down and telling me to “Show me what you’ve got.” They receive a massage at a Kama rate – don’t be one of them!

 

If you crave sexual interaction with me (which I would if I wasn’t me!) but you lack the confidence, skills, experience or assurance to arrive and seduce me, I offer a Musubi/Kama session that is perfect for you. The session begins with Musubi massage and only after our bodies have relaxed and our energies have intertwined does it flow naturally into a more sexual session.

 

Almost all of my sessions are incredible. The only ones that have not been are either massages in which the client has not respected my boundaries and tried to have sex with me (and earned the kind of ticking off that shrivels erections) or a Kama session like the one described above when a client arrives and expects me to please him. That is just not the dynamic that leads to great sex. It may work in porn, but it doesn’t work in real life. Above all, I am a real woman who loves real sex. Please don’t book me to be your porn star –  I think AI will help you create her!

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