Michael Alan - From Virgin to He-Whore - The Butterfly Effect

A man is not born a He Whore, he becomes one by nurture rather than nature.

The common fallacy that ALL men are whores, is a misconception that makes the life of a professional He Whore that much easier and less competitive. Most men enjoy sex, but when faced with a demand beyond their physical and emotional capabilities, they wilt.

A prime example, I often relate to those who are interested, is of an acquaintance of mine who shared my cabin aboard a nude Caribbean cruise some years ago. At the time, I had just begun publishing an international naturist magazine and in conjunction organised naturist tours. On this tour, I had 13 clients, six couples and one single male. I’ll call him Mark!

Mark ran a general store in a remote aboriginal community and had little or sparse contact with white women his age. He joined my tour in the hope of ‘getting his rocks off’, in a big way.

On the cruise, he began to socialise with a group of swingers, with two women from the group showing a particular interest in Mark, who I might add was an attractive, healthy 30-year-old.

One night around 11pm, I was awoken as the door to our cabin swung open and there stood Mark silhouetted in the doorway by the corridor lights. I was a little alarmed by his demeanor as he seemed frozen to the spot and said nothing. When I pressed him, he answered with a shaking whisper, “I can’t believe what just happened?” “What do you mean?” I questioned.

Mark gradually explained, “I had two women lying on their bed, both prone, legs spread and encouraging me to pleasure their marvelous, moist muffs. When the reality of what was required of me, I wilted and gave my apologies and slinked out…. I still can’t believe what I just did???”

Mark’s dilemma is not uncommon amongst many men. When confronted by the reality by their wildest dreams, the pressure to perform is extremely daunting.

I can’t deny, I initially faced similar dilemmas in my early years as a male escort. I often wonder where I summoned the determination to ‘push through’ those situations to eventually feel comfortable and confident I could satisfy my most demanding female clients.

I am by Nature not a whore!

I’m a Baby Boomer and raised as the oldest of four boys in a stable home with two loving parents in the (then) outer Western Suburbs of Sydney. My formative years included the ultra-conservative era of 1950’s Australia. Pre women’s lib, pre rock and roll, and pre hippies and sexual freedom.

Women were expected to be virginal till marriage and asexual beings. In fact, the most common feminine philosophy of the era was a to ‘lay back and think of England’, when faced with sexual demands from their husbands. I can remember that phrase often being repeated in movies and the media and around the neighbourhood by the mums of my many friends.

My neighbourhood was predominantly boys. In fact, in my street, out of all the homes with children there would have been 30 boys and just two lone girls. This was great for a very energetic, pre-pubescent boy as there was always street cricket, or soccer to be played every day after school.

After my two years of kindergarten, I waved goodbye to female classmates and from the age of eight I attended an all-boys primary school, then onto an all-boys high school, then onto predominantly all-male university classes. I studied Mathematics and Physics at university, which in the 1960’s were ‘male’ subjects.

I had little to NO knowledge of females and the female psyche and I had ABSOLUTELY no knowledge of female genital physiology!

My nurturing as a sexual being began with some ‘unfortunate’ episodes, early in my life.

During my two years in the ‘pre-primary’ school, I was repeatedly molested by a female teacher in the boys’ toilets. She would often come up from behind a boy standing at the urinal and hold his penis while he urinated. Amongst other ‘penile gymnastics’ she seemed to enjoy performing, she would ‘spell’ your name on the urinal wall with your stream. In hindsight, as an adult, I would wonder whether this was a form of punishment for misbehaviour. However, I eventually dismissed this possibility as I was never in trouble at school.

At the time, I also didn’t comprehend the reaction of my penis becoming erect as unusual, when she held it. I knew if felt nice, but her amused reactions confused me. I sensed she was enjoying the experience but as a little boy I had no idea of what these reactions inferred. After continual molestations, I gradually became extremely confused and uncomfortable by the whole situation.

However, as a small boy you just accepted that a teacher, or any adult female, had that right to do what she wished with your body. I was used to my mother bathing and dressing me and my aunts, nurses and teenage girls who were babysitters, prodding and poking my naked body for whatever reasons.

Another repeated incident, that stuck in my childhood psyche was the punishment for ‘wetting’ your pants in school. The girls who had this accident could go behind the piano and change, while boys were expected to change in front of the class, facing the embarrassment of smirks from their female classmates and our female teacher.

Because of these confronting situations, I would ‘hold on’ during school hours and race home (a 15-minute run) as fast as was physically possible to relieve myself. I often suffered from terrible bladder pains at the end of a school day.

As a child, you accept anything an adult does to you, as the ‘norm’. In that era, a child – especially a boy, had no rights, so I never mentioned any of this to my parents, or for that matter anyone else. It seemed to me that girls were ‘protected’ and could make their needs heard and respected…boys, not so!

In my childish innocence, it seemed that men did all the hard and dirty work – such as garbage collection and ‘night soil’ men. Men had to go to work every day and were sent to war to die, while women were protected and treated with respect and dignity. Mothers in my neighbourhood did work in the home, but always seemed to have ample time to relax, play tennis during the day or spend time chatting over coffee when they went shopping.

As puberty unfolded, as a normal boy, I was confronted with the realities of sexual attraction and internal physical and emotional sexual demands. My insatiable sexual needs were at times unbearable. Through masturbation the ultimate release was exquisite, yet sadly fleeting. The never-ending frustration of attracting a similarly minded female to share these feelings was painful.

I was awkward, ignorant and naive – beyond belief – when it came to the opposite sex!

As a pre-pubescent nine-year-old boy, I did have one opportunity to ‘explore’ the opposite sex. One afternoon, while our mums were at their lady’s tennis group, the only two girls in my neighbourhood, who were of a similar age, suggested a game of catch and strip. If you could catch someone, you could pull their pants down and see what they had. Thankfully, I was athletic, even as a kid, and won the game most times. Although in hindsight, it seemed my female friends were easier to catch than I thought they’d be. Later in life I realised the girls probably thought they had won that game. I did purposely ‘lose’ the game a few times just to see what the girls would do. They both giggled and pulled on my cock and played with it, then lost interest and we began the game again. Anyway, that mysterious spot between a girl’s legs was momentarily revealed. Sadly, that memory and information quickly dissipated due to pre-pubescent disinterest.