Enjoy eroticism like never before with one of the most experienced gigolos of the Netherlands

First time – Virginity

René: Along the way I have gained a lot of experience in introducing virgin women and women with little sexual experience into the world of sex and intimacy.

Sometimes in life it unfortunately is the case that women – due to circumstances, culture or other causes – have hardly been able to experience sex and sexual pleasure and perhaps may not even have had the freedom to explore it in the first place. That’s such a shame. Therefore, put aside your own shyness and any standards of decency that have been imposed on you. I will help you get used to intimate contact step by step.

In the reports below from Stephanie and Rianne you can read how they experienced their encounters with me. They found the step of actually meeting with me to be quite exciting.

The story of Stephanie

“I think I can help you”, René wrote in his response to the email I had sent him not long before, in which I explained my ‘problem’. Words that I read with hope but also with some scepticism. As good as he was supposed to be at what he does according to his website, I still had plenty of doubts that weren’t easily dispelled.

The fact that I had e-mailed him, a gigolo, after a long hesitation, was above all an act of desperation. I wasn’t looking for adventure or fun, but help.

I was now forty (with the next birthday already closer than I would have liked), and sexually still completely inexperienced. Naturally introverted and bullied at school for years as a child, I developed into an insecure and shy teen and young adult who didn’t date, didn’t experiment with boys, and least of all with sex. It will be, I thought, attributing it to the fact that I was apparently just a late bloomer.

For a long time I soothed my mind with it, I told myself that love would come my way one day. But once past thirty, with friends who had partners and started families, it started to gnaw. I did try dating occasionally, but I found it more of a task than something I enjoyed. It never got beyond a tame date or two. I usually cut off contact and reconciled myself to my single existence for a while, until the next dutiful date, which also irrevocably ended in nothing.

Years of self-reflection and conversations with therapists later, I understand a lot better why my love life always seemed to fail to get back on track. Because of my past bullying I had developed a damaged self-image and a closed, suspicious character. At a tender age I had acquired the habit of making myself small and invisible, of building a wall around myself, and as an adult I was still trapped behind it, safely entrenched but also isolated, inaccessible to others. From my impregnable fortress I watched the world, where people lived their lives, stumbled and got back up, wept and laughed and loved. I wanted to belong to them, but I didn’t know how to do that. Didn’t dare to face people well either, for fear of getting hurt, being offended, making a fool of myself or being rejected. What seemed deceptively easy to others was increasingly out of reach for me, at least that’s how it felt.

Meanwhile, the years went by and age became more and more a concern and a hindrance; what man wants to date a forty-year-old woman who doesn’t know what to do in bed?

So I just went round in circles in that vicious circle of powerlessness and fear, until a combination of circumstances brought it to a breaking point. Suddenly I was more than tired of the impasse: something had to be done! The monotonous routine of my life had to be broken at all costs. I went online, initially looking for stories from fellow sufferers, and discovered that there were women in my situation who could have benefited from a gigolo. Well, I had to let that idea sink in, and five or ten years ago I probably would have laughed it aside, but now I thought, why not? Better an experienced gigolo with whom you can make arrangements than just a man from Tinder and all the associated risks. The more I read about it, the more the idea lodged in my head.

I looked at an escort agency’s site and even sent an exploratory email, but when I was referred to the profiles of the gigolos with the question to make a first selection, I snapped. They were all beautiful men, not one of them, with rave reviews, moreover, but choosing a lover based on only a photo and some superficial personal information – no, that didn’t bother me. Some of them even included how big they were, which really didn’t interest me a bit. Most of all, I was looking for someone I would feel safe with; that was the most important thing for me.

The escort agency prided itself on its discretion and strict selection procedure and seemed to want to discourage women from working with gigolos who operate independently. I understood that somehow, I myself am very attached to my privacy and certainly did not want to get involved with a man of dubious stature.

But one day I read an article in Libelle in which a woman described a positive experience with an independent gigolo, which at least reassured me a bit on that front. Unfortunately, this gigolo was not mentioned by name, but when I finally landed on René’s site and discovered that he was the gigolo from the Libelle, the decision to email him was not long in coming. Although I spent a lot of time thoroughly researching his site, references and articles in the media. Suspicious as I am, I tried my hardest to expose him as a scammer (references can be faked pretty easily, but those articles and interviews in various magazines were different), but I couldn’t.

So I sent him a short message (from an anonymous email address) and not long after he sent me a nice and encouraging reply. I took a quick look at the photos he had included; I thought the way he looked was of secondary importance. My hope was mainly in him because according to the reviews he would have a special touch for women with a scratch like me. In fact, several women wrote that he wasn’t necessarily their ‘type’, but that they had a great time with him nonetheless. That he could also have helped women with an abuse history. He must therefore have something special, was my conclusion.

“I believe I can help you. One step at a time.”

That’s what he wrote and after one or two emails from both sides, an appointment was made. I indicated that I would like to meet him on neutral ground, in a public place near me. Because the fact that I wasn’t going to give him my home address right away was beyond doubt.

He didn’t make a fuss about that at all and even indicated that we could leave it at a short introduction if I didn’t feel good about it. If we did go to my house, then my clothes would stay on anyway, was his proposal, because it would be exciting enough even with clothes on. Well, I could only wholeheartedly agree with that and because he himself indicated this, I dared to set a date. In the days leading up to the appointment, I resisted the temptation to cancel, since then I would be back to square one. I reassured myself that it didn’t have to get any further than a ten-minute introduction.

The day of the appointment arrived. René let me know via the app that he would be there on time, and in the morning I was busy getting the house ready, just in case. Nerves, yes of course, and a constant rush of thoughts like, “What have I gotten myself into? Why did I want this? I seem crazy”, etc. But I expected that the last stretch would weigh the heaviest.

At 5 to 1 I left on foot to the appointed place. He was already there and pointed to a bench where we could talk. It was surreal. In less than two minutes he asked me if I ever came and I heard myself answer too. I was actually too tense to be embarrassed about such a personal question. His calm, professional manner helped too. He asked if I’d ever had any attention from men, to which I replied no. He immediately came to the right conclusion, namely that I was not really open to it. I had subconsciously closed myself off to almost all contact with strangers except the most necessary, and avoided eye contact as much as possible. Even if all the men in the street turned to me, I probably wouldn’t notice.

Soon, too soon for my liking, the moment came when I had to decide if we were going to continue this at my house. To be honest, I had lost courage a bit by now. He seemed nice and looked like the picture, attractive, but he was also a complete stranger to me. How was I ever going to do all those intimate things with that? I didn’t see it happen yet. But he had driven quite a distance and a drink was the minimum, I thought. “Let’s have a coffee,” I said rather impulsively, “and then we’ll see.” Probably not the warmest invitation he’d ever had.

At my house we drank coffee and talked a bit about small talk, he on the sofa and me on the chair opposite him. At one point he made a mischievous joke, no doubt to break the ice, but I couldn’t laugh. The tension screeched through my body and I dreaded what would follow, whatever that might be exactly. I hadn’t really imagined it, but I did know that I would be touched and that it wouldn’t come easily to me.

René had finished his coffee in no time and proposed to start; I was a little reeling at how real all of this suddenly felt, and I felt myself rebelling internally. I shot him a look that must have spoken volumes. “You look so stern,” he said, and I tried to put a light spin on it. “Now do you see how I do that, scaring men off?” “Yes,” he said, and laughed, but was not deterred.

He put two chairs across from each other and let me choose one. I had put on background music in the meantime. René had meanwhile explained how he would proceed, that he would calmly let me get used to being touched. We sat facing each other and he asked if he could touch my hand. Well, I could bear the prospect, so I held out my hand and he took it between his. It didn’t feel unpleasant, but it felt pleasant and anything but threatening. Then he asked for the other hand and he did the same thing again. Then he asked to touch my knees, then my forearms, and so on.

I quickly noticed it was easier not to look at him while he was doing this, so I averted my gaze. After a while he got up and went to stand behind me. Again he kept asking if he could touch me here or there, and I always said yes. This came off fairly easily, which I did not expect. When he touched my now bare upper arms, I felt a little discomfort, but it was more because he leaned closer than the touch itself.

I didn’t say much and only responded when he asked something and then usually short. At one point he laughed at something I didn’t mean funny. “Why are you laughing?” I asked sharply, because I almost felt like I was being laughed at (an old pitfall of mine). He pondered for a moment. “Maybe because I’m a little nervous myself,” he said, and that surprised me. I realized with a guilt that I had made very little effort to be kind to him. I was only concerned with myself and hadn’t at all wondered if he might not find this exciting too. I found that I was pleased that he admitted this and that it calmed me down a bit.

For a few hours we were engaged in exercises in this way that went off well and less well for me. He obviously didn’t touch any intimate areas, had assured me in advance that he wouldn’t, but when he stroked my face with my permission, it felt almost unbearably intimate. I smelled his aftershave, an unknown smell. Not unpleasant, but present, almost pushy. I don’t know you, it screamed from somewhere inside me. But I allowed the touch, I didn’t want to know about giving up, and actually I never even considered it for a moment, because René was so attentive and did nothing unexpected. He also kept repeating that nothing had to be done, the choice was always mine.

We ended up on the couch where René asked if I dared to lay my head on his chest. Again fierce internal resistance, I don’t know why, but the thought of surrendering to him in this way triggered something in me. Soebating with myself, negotiating with him, well come on ten seconds. The most uncomfortable ten seconds of my life and I pulled out very quickly, but I did it.

I was dead tired at the end of those three hours, and relieved to be done. So relieved that to my own surprise I spontaneously wanted to give him a hug, which I did at his invitation. It was unexpectedly nice, not uncomfortable at all, just a warm embrace. Delicious. I even got a kiss on the cheek, incredibly sweet. “Let it sink in,” he said before leaving, “I will leave you alone for a few days.”

That same evening I sent him a text message to thank him for the special afternoon and to apologize for my sometimes jerky behavior. He didn’t want to know anything about the latter. “I’m proud of you,” he wrote and I was taken aback. It felt so sincere, so sweet, and I had been so suspicious of him. I felt a piece of hardness crumble inside me, a little ray of sunshine piercing through the clouds. There was a beginning. Two days after we met, I texted him again and we made another appointment.

Below is my review after multiple appointments:
“’Lots of grateful women on your site’, I said to you when we first met, only to add in my mind, ‘I’d like to be one of them.’. But if I’m honest, I didn’t believe for a second that you would actually succeed, despite all those glowing references.”

“My fears and insecurities, a persistent legacy of my childhood, had defined my life for so long. I couldn’t look over that wall anymore and see what else life had to offer, let alone experience it. In fact, I had already settled for that.”

“Now I want to write such a reference myself to admit publicly: I was wrong. I underestimated myself and you, then. Even though I’m not where I want to be yet, I now have faith that it will be all right, just like you always said. And that they were not empty words, but sincere trust in me, even if I myself struggled with my critical voice and lost courage. For that, as well as for your patience and gentle touch, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of you, slowly but surely the conviction grows that I can be there, visible and all.”

“And all the ladies who read this and are still hesitating, especially those who, like me, struggle with intimacy and consider a gigolo for a nice and respectful experience: get over your doubts and send René a message. Give yourself that opportunity. He’s for real. You’re in safe (and capable) hands.”


The story of Rianne

One day you turn 30 and you have never had sex…

The embarrassment got bigger and bigger and started to get in the way of going on a date at all. After all, “How many relationships have you had?” is often one of the first questions. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even get to date and I started to think something was pretty wrong with me.

Until I turned 39, one day the switch turned and I decided it couldn’t go on like this anymore. I had played with the idea of booking a gigolo before, but the whole idea was too big, too scary. Intimacy, letting someone in for more than just a hug was a thing. But that day in question it was done. I did a search and found a lot of websites that I didn’t like at all; vulgar, or an hourly bill.

I didn’t really know what I was looking for exactly, but at least not what I found up to that point. Until I stumbled upon Renés site. Tidy, no dick picks and with reviews that were all authentic. The stories on his site showed me that he not only knows what he’s doing, but also that he’s seen everything before, nothing is strange anymore. And what also helped: it turned out that I was not the only late bloomer.

Before I knew it, I was writing an e-mail. Briefly summarizing what my background is was quite a challenge. After I clicked submit I thought, “Oh my gosh, what have I done?”, haha! But I got a very nice email back very soon. Friendly, non-judgmental and he suggested not going all the way on the first date. That was so reassuring that we had set a date before I knew it. Thrilling…

In the week that followed, a lot of emotions came out, but I also experienced for the first time that everything was okay the way it was. My life has turned out that way and by accepting that I was able to take new steps.

On the day of the date, I managed to distract myself with all kinds of meetings until just before he would arrive. When the bell finally rang, the nerves finally struck hard. Fortunately, his energy was so calm that I naturally became calmer too. First we drink coffee together, get acquainted and with very small steps he took me into what turned out to be a beautiful evening.

He managed to create an atmosphere in which I felt safe and not condemned, which was an important condition for me. His massage is really great and because he did everything step by step and kept checking if I was still okay, I could go with him. So we just went all the way in a very natural way. Jeez, I wish every woman such an experience!

And what I had not expected: aftercare. The next day René checked to see if everything was still going well with me. That bit of genuine care was exactly what I needed. A second date was quickly planned, because now that it was no longer completely new to me I wanted to experience it again.

Where we hadn’t kissed the first time, now he tried. And I panicked… The kissing triggered a deep fear of being vulnerable. I managed to indicate that it was getting a little too exciting for me and René responded well to this. We didn’t kiss again that night, which gave me peace of mind. He then invited me to massage his back. I like giving massages, so I gladly accepted that invitation. And there, in that moment, I could gradually sink into my own sensuality and for the first time I felt completely woman. Very extraordinary.

The panic I felt about kissing sparked a wave of emotions in the weeks after the date. I have always hidden the woman in me deep so that she was safe, but being with René created space for that woman to carefully come out. However, I first had to get rid of a lot of emotion and all kinds of memories came back and in a short time the insights tumbled over each other. All of this helped me to get the picture more complete and to understand myself better. I had help from a coach, but I could also share this whole process with René. It was nice to be seen and supported in this way, because it was precisely because of that that I was able to take all those steps and to explore with him in full confidence.

In our next date, he deliberately didn’t kiss me to give me all the space. As a result, after a long run-up, the desire to kiss finally arose in me. In the following date, too, René was reticent about kissing so that I could take the initiative at my own pace. It was very nice that I was given all the space to discover and experience myself and I never felt pushed or judged. The best part is that I can now experience how nice kissing is and that all the emotion that was behind this is completely gone.

When I first approached René, my idea was mainly to learn to allow intimacy, but I had not expected it to turn out like this. I have the feeling that I can finally be there completely. I feel more free than ever and look forward to the next date with René because there is still plenty to discover!