Originally Posted by
Sfornication
This thread’s got more drama than a Newtown sharehouse at rent time. Honestly, it’s the perfect storm — punters feeling ripped, MLs feeling overexposed, and shops playing musical chairs with accountability.
Let’s break it down. Punters roll in, wallet out, thinking NHJ includes a full buffet of flesh-on-flesh action. But halfway through the rub, the ML goes, “Touching’s extra,” and now you’re sitting there oiled up like a Christmas ham, negotiating nipple tax. That’s not sexy — that’s stressful.
On the flip side, MLs aren’t vending machines. Just ’cause you tapped your card at the front doesn’t mean everything’s on the menu. They’ve got boundaries, comfort zones, and sometimes, yeah — instructions from above to upsell. Some of ’em are out here winging it with no proper training, learning HJ form from punters like it’s a TAFE workshop.
And then we’ve got the shop — promising the world up front, then disappearing faster than a schooner at happy hour when things go pear-shaped. If management wants to push “touching included” and “clothes off from the jump,” they better back it up with clear rules and consistent delivery. Not just vague vibes and Jacob’s bedtime stories.
Now, here’s a cheeky little curveball for the punters: before we start moaning about what we should be allowed to touch, maybe take a cold, hard look in the mirror. Real talk — would you want to be touched if you looked like you just crawled out of a bush behind Central station? Hygiene matters. Presentation matters. No one wants to be fondled by a bloke who smells like expired Lynx and disappointment. We all want the fantasy — but fantasies don’t have halitosis.
This whole game’s built on expectation. Punters want smooth sailing. MLs want to feel safe and respected. Shops want the register ringing without the headaches. You want less conflict? Start with clear communication, better hygiene, and maybe — just maybe — leave the entitlement at the door with your shoes.
Anyway, I’m off to exfoliate and rethink every punt I’ve ever phoned in. Stay sexy, gents — but maybe start by smelling that way.
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