coming soon!

I promise I’ll be posting soon, I swear!!! I’ve been busy getting settled back home and last night I SAW TAYLOR SWIFT AND IT WAS MAGICAL, and tonight I am seeing her again. Monday or Tuesday  I will sit down and chat with you babies again.

I love you all!

 

xx

Hookers don’t need saving: a rant.

oh lordy.

Today we’re going to talk about misogyny. Well, more broadly we’re going to talk about this fucking idea society carries that women who sell their bodies for sex need saving, but if you can’t see how saturated that idea is with misogyny than you’re in denial. Tonight I had a party with this guy who was so fucking hot, the whole time we stood in line up I was just hoping he would pick me, and he did! We had a drink, flirted, negotiated, and then had some really hot sex – really fucking hot. It was his third time at the Ranch, he comes whenever he gets in a big fight with his wife and she kicks him out, but even still this beautiful being had the nerve to judge me. He’s in an unhappy marriage, stuck in a heteronormative boring ass life, and yet he had the gull to tell me that I was too good for this place and could do better.

God. If you guys knew how often us girls hear this bullshit. I have a friend who has a client that no lie, set up a safeword for her that she can send him when she’s ready to be “saved from this place.” Guys (and couples) come in here, they pay us and fuck us, and then they turn around and tell us that we need saving or that we can do better….like, I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you?! For this man to pay me for sex, fuck me, enjoy himself and get off, and then turn around and judge what I do, suggests that he is somehow morally superior to me even though we both actively consented to the same activity. HOW FUCKING MISOGYNISTIC CAN YOU BE?!

This viewpoint is solidly rooted in an archaic and sexist view of women as particularly fragile and vulnerable beings, but we’re not. There is this bullshit popular belief, which is vigorously perpetuated by anti-sex feminists, conservative Christians, and ignorant fucks that sex work is intrinsically harmful, and therefore the (ADULT)  women who participate in it need to be “protected” by our choices. But the same thing was once believed about homosexuality; it was said to lead to violence, drug use, disease, and mental illness. As we now know, these problems were not caused by homosexuality itself; they were the result of legal oppression and social stigma, and once those harmful factors were removed the associated “problems” vanished as well. Women who choose to fuck for money do not need your misogynistic puritan ass to come and save them, we need your respect.

Prostitution allows us a way to safely explore our sexual desires in ways that we can’t through the current social norms of heterosexual, monogamous relationships. Which I know is terrifying to men who are desperately clutching at the old-fashioned idea that women should depend on them and them alone to satisfy her needs, but it’s about time that they get the fuck over it. It also gives a lot of us who have yet to achieve a college degree the opportunity to earn more money than most people who do possess one make. The girls here at the Ranch make an upwards of 6 figures a year, consistently. Hookers are not feeble, innocent women being exploited – we’re students paying for school without needing loans, we’re single mothers raising our children without the burden of financial stress, we’re partners helping to make ends meet so that we can live comfortably, we’re sluts who want to relish in the power of our unbridled sexuality – we’re capable and intelligent and sick of your fucking ignorance.

The right to control our sexuality is as essential to feminism (and humanity) as the right to control our reproduction is, and yet just like with birth control, society (aka men) think they’re entitled to have a say in what that looks like. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM OUR BODIES…IT’S OUR OWN DAMN CHOICE! This idea that women can’t willingly and powerfully choose prostitution derives from the idea that a woman shouldn’t have control over her own body, and that consequently labels women as second-class citizens and places them under the control of men. So, ironically (I hope, I always use this word wrong), these men coming in here and hiring us and then telling us we need saved are the ones that are degrading and oppressing us…not the job itself.

In other “normal” fields of work many workers earn their living by exerting a strong aspect of their personality. Managers are paid for their leadership abilities, teachers for their patience, and waiters for their extroversion. Why, then, is it wrong for a prostitute to profit from her sexuality?  Maybe it’s because society (aka men) are fucking terrified that if women realize that we have autonomy and control over our sexuality we wouldn’t need to depend on them anymore. Workers in any entertainment field, such as stage actors, dancers, or comedians, are paid for their actual labor…same with prostitution. We’re entertainers who are being paid for our labor. The root of each type of work is essentially the same: to provide a pleasurable experience for a customer. Ours is just more fun. There is absolutely no reason why sexual commerce should not be viewed and treated like other form of entertainment work. What makes it different from other work is the stigma attached to it, and a set of stereotypes and assumptions about the girls working and their conditions. “Sex work is work”- that’s not some radical statement, it’s a fact. Sex work is not a crime, nor a scam, nor a lazy way to get by, nor a form of oppression. It is a personal service, akin to massage, or nursing, or counseling, and should be treated as such.

Straight up this is the stitch for prostitution: many of the assumptions and public policies regarding it are based on either folk wisdom or ignorance or some bullshit religious morality, and furthermore, are blatantly gender-biased. Society is obsessed with controlling women’s bodies – women who are denied individual agency and respect for their decisions and depicted as passive victims are more easily controlled and contained. But fuck you, we deserve the right to choose, and we deserve to have that choice respected. It’s like Salt-n-Peppa said, “If she wanna be a freak and sell it on the weekend, it’s none of your damn business.” When will society learn that they don’t have the right to dictate what a woman does with her body? A woman should be able to decide that she wants to sell her fucking pussy and not have to deal with the bullshit of being chastised by an immoral society that clings to the false pretense of puritan ideals that dictate what is “moral.”

I am a fucking whore, in every sense of the word. I get off on selling my body for money. I love to fuck, and be fucked, and be around others who are fucking. I’m also intelligent, and emotionally stable, and confident, and empowered, and loved, and worthy, and so fucking sick and tired of being told that I need saving. Especially by those who hire me to fuck them because they’re miserable with their heteronormative, vanilla, status-quo life. Grow the fuck up.

#micdrop

xx

Harper

 

 

 

 

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking….

Hi my loves!! It’s a Thursday night here at the world famous Bunny Ranch and it is dead as fuck. No lie, nobody has come in the door for hours now, which means I’m left to lay here drowning in my desire for dick. I’m craving sex baaaad, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. I am kinky and aching and hungry. I want filth.

I want to be blindfolded and led into a room that smells of smut, the air heavy with lust. I want labored breath and warm waiting bodies. I want to be paraded through the crowd, on the end of a leash, eagerly transforming from human to doll. Objectify me. I am a vessel. Nothing but holes meant for one thing only – to inspire desire, perversion, pleasure. I want to be left in the center of the room, handed over to those who understand what I’m there for. No formalities, no introductions, just sex.

I want stranger’s hands groping me, squeezing my tits, slapping my ass, wrapping around my throat…forcing me down onto my hands and knees. Ripping cloth and sinking teeth, pulling hair and digging nails. I want to feel overpowered – handed around as if I’m a gift that is being sacrificed to the gods of carnality. I want to feel the first cock slide into my dripping pussy, filling me up as I moan around another cock that’s already found its way down my throat. I want to lose myself in the art of passion. Use me. I want hard days at work taken out on me, pent up frustration from other girls saying no taken out on me, built up desire from watching too much porn taken out on me. I want to be the escape.

I want hot skin, slick with sweat pressed against me from every angle, I want it to be hard to breathe. Hard to think about anything other than cock, impossible to feel anything but strangers lust dripping down onto me and running across my skin. I want aggression. I want strong hands on the back of my head forcing cocks deeper down my throat, so deep I gag, and drool, and my eyes tear up. I want to be facefucked so good that I giggle, delirious in my desire for more. I want rough hands gripping my hips as strange cock after strange cock slams into me, fucking me so hard that my thighs start trembling. I want to be used so much that my arms and legs give out and I have to be flipped over onto my back, my body limp with exhaustion but aching for more.

I want that first load of cum to splash across my open mouth, salty and delicious, the nectar of gratification – my motivation the entire night. Then I want more. I want the second load, then the third, the eighth, the fourteenth, I want so much cum I lose count. A canvas coated in the consequences of my carnal desires. I want to drown in my reward, relishing in what I have done.

It’s so strange, this fantasy, because it’s a living, breathing dichotomy. I am used yes, but I also use. These men may not care who I am, just using me for their pleasure, but I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what they look like, where they’re from, what they do for a living. I care about their orgasm, about their cum, and not for their pleasure but for my own. The acts may be degrading and dehumanizing, but when I perform them I feel powerful and confident.

This is the magic of gangbangs; when everyone involved is focused on their own pleasure, on using each other to get what they truly desire, then there is no room for anything but just that – desire. It takes over and overwhelms, leaving us all high on the endorphins of the ecstasy that ensues. I am a whore, a plaything built for men, but I am a goddess. They are strong and powerful men, but my body leaves them panting, weak as they trying to stand on their shaking knees. The exploiters become the exploited. The worshiper becomes the worshiped.

I’m craving this form of worship with every fiber of my cum depraved whore being right now. Here’s to hoping tomorrow brings me some cock…and the cum that comes with it 😉

Good night my fellow perverts, I love you.

xx

Harper

 

 

 

I’m too tired to think of a T.S. lyric for this post, but I talk about sex, so you should read it!

Hi my loves! It’s taking me a bit to sit down and actually write about what’s going on here, but these past few days have been surprisingly good. I think the last time I wrote to you was before July 4th…which honestly feels like ages ago by now. I’ve been booking a solid amount of parties, nothing too extravagant or intense, but a few of them have been especially lovely. Everyone messages me asking to hear about the parties that I do, they want the nitty gritty details about all the hot sex they think I’m having. It’s as if they think that this place is nothing but girls being used as receptacles for pleasure and then handed over to the next paying customer – but I’ve got to be honest, that’s simply not the case.

The thing about The Bunny Ranch is that we, are at least this is my experience, get a lot more of the guys who are looking for the girlfriend experience than anyone coming in who just wants to get off. People have a lot to say about what they think happens here and the degenerates that partake, but the Bunny Ranch is so much more than just a pit stop for men to lose a load. It’s a sanctuary, a safe house, a place where, even if just for a little while, a guy can come and feel worshipped. And accepted. And cherished. I have to make a small caveat here and say that there’s nothing wrong with the men (And girls they hire) who are just looking to get off – that’s equally as valid and delicious. But more often than not, us girls deliver men something that they’re desperately needing and not able to find in their reality outside of our gates.

The Ranch is a shining beacon, a safe haven where the virgins can learn how to talk to girls and touch their bodies without feeling shame. Where the socially awkward can feel validated and desired. Where the misfits become rockstars. Where the elderly, who in the outside world are overlooked and dismissed, are doted on and adored. It’s where couples looking to bring passion and excitement back into their relationship can explore each other in new and unthreatening ways. The people coming in these doors are looking for comfort, for affection, for some compassion, and yes, for release.

I had a party on July 4th with a guy, we’ll call him R, and even though he paid a pretty penny to spend some time partying with me – we spent maybe 15 of those minutes actually having sex. That’s not to say that the sex we had wasn’t fantastic –  he went down on me until I came all over his tongue, I went down on him, he sucked my toes, I let him fuck my ass and popped his anal fucking cherry, and then he titty fucked me until he came all over my face….it was such a hot time! But all of that, delectable as it was, wasn’t the main meal. It’s not why he came into the Ranch that night, it’s not why he spent the money that he did, and it’s not what left us both feeling blissed out at the end of our party. The massaging, and cuddling, and self-divulging…that was where the magic was. Those tender moments, when we were basking in our post-coital glow (I do hate that phrase I think) and he was able to talk about what was on his heart and in his mind…that’s what it was all about for him. His wife was bedridden, so sick that it took over both of their lives. And he was terrified about her dying, he was stressed about how to best take care of her and the medical decisions that awaited them both, he was lonely, and he had gone without a woman’s touch for months. Him and his wife decided that hiring someone, legally and safely, was a solution that they were both comfortable with and so he came to us. And I was fortunate enough to be the one that got to provide him with that escape.

And last night, I had a party with a younger (and super hot) immigrant who had just moved to the United States from India and was working in the Bay area. We bonded immediately over our hatred for America and the disgust towards white nationalism that seems to be running rampant these days. He made love to me in a way that I hadn’t experienced in quite some time, instead of me taking care of him, he took care of me. He took his time, he ran tantalizing, soft kisses down the entire length of my body, and he touched me in ways that had me begging for more. Afterwards, we sat at the bar for a while talking about traveling, religion, how to deal with families that hold completely different ideologies than you, and philosophy. When he talked about where he’s been in the world, telling me about his visits to Japan made his eyes lit up the way mine do when I talk about the discography of Taylor’s Speak Now album. There is nothing I love more than watching people come to life when they talk about the things they’re passionate about. To me, it’s one of the most beautiful things. Like mine, his parents put religion before all else and like me, he became the collateral from that way of living. (Although, his parents disowned him because they found out he was eating pork, so I think his story sucks more than mine). We had a lively debate over whether happiness is a state of mind or a result of your circumstances and surroundings, he read me poems that he had written both while he fell in love and had his heart shattered. By the end of our party, I found myself genuinely sorry that I had to say goodbye and there’s a part of me that’s bummed I won’t ever get to spend time with him again. Although, maybe that’s part of the magic – that we show a stranger our most intimate and vulnerable parts, for just a little while, and then they’re strangers again.

When I talk to other bunnies in the house and hear their stories, I hear more tales that are equally as tender and substantive. One girl was talking about how when she was giving a client a tour of the compound he stopped mid tour and apologized to her for his face. Is that not the most heartbreaking thing?? He had come to see us because he had been rejected and rebuffed so much that he honestly felt like there was no girl out there who would want to have sex with him due to his physical appearance. Or another party I heard about from a different bunny where the guy came in a virgin and left feeling like “a brand-new man.” He had come in shaking and stuttering and so nervous he couldn’t make eye contact, but he booked an extended party where he was taught the ins and outs of sex, Sex 101 you could say. He was educated about sex in a loving, affirming, safe, and open-minded way – where he could try all kinds of different things and ask questions and open up about desires and kinks without having to worry about judgement or condemnation. By the end of the party he told her that his virginity had been such a burden on his life and his confidence for so long, but now he feels like he can be the man he was really meant to be.

I know you guys want to hear stories about being spit on or fucked so hard we can’t walk straight or being cummed on by five different guys in a day – and that stuff happens, but it’s rare compared to what usually occurs behind closed doors. I did have a party where this punk (he was so young and dumb) booked me and basically raped my face until it was covered in both his cum and spit. And yes, I fucking LOVED it. I know I’ll be used like that again, I look forward to being used like that again, but being given the opportunity to see others open up and be vulnerable and look to you to provide them the things they’re missing in life – that’s at the heart of why I do what I do.

Oh. My. God. Complete 180 pivot but I’m cracking up right now at how funny life is. (Also, I’ve now been up for 20 hours and worked 15 of those so this part will not be near as eloquent). As I was typing those previous paragraphs (3 hours ago) the bell rang and so I had to go to line up and I got picked. This guy, we’ll call him S, was with his uncle and another friend of his and they were fuuuuuucked up, they were coming from the casino where they won some money and were looking to celebrate. We sat at the bar to have some drinks and hang out and I realize that S’s uncle is crying…I was like “uhhh babe what’s wrong?” but he didn’t want to talk about it and so I just gave him some hugs and back rubs while we were hanging out. Eventually S asked to go to my room and party, as we were leaving I checked in with his uncle again to make sure he was okay, and he goes,” I just feel so bad for all of you girls.” Like…are you fucking kidding me?? I was like, “well you can knock that bullshit right off, thank you very much.” When will people learn that just because a woman decides to monetize her sexuality and her body she’s not broken or in need of sympathy? It’s such a fucking buzzkill, you have no idea.

Anyyyyways, S and I went and ended up having a fantastic time…and so he rebooked me and we played some more, and then we went back to the bar to see how his group was doing – his friend was passed out in cab out front and his uncle stopped crying and was now handing out hundreds to any girl that walked by and was telling them how hard she made is cock feel…shocker. S pretty much chugged 2 more drinks and then asked to book me again, may I remind you that this just happened, at like 6:00 this morning, fucking wild. He was so dirty and kinky, and perverted, it was fantastic. I laugh though, because literally right before he came in the door I was sitting here on my high horse in my room writing about how the bunny ranch is for more than just dirty, objectifying sex, and then this fucking guy comes in and wanted nothing but those things. He didn’t give a shit about what my hobbies were, just that he liked the way my tits felt suffocating his face. I gave him sloppy head, we were spitting in each other’s mouths and rubbing it all over our bodies, talking filthy, filthy talk about making his wife a cuckold (can women be called cuckolds too??), and I fucked his ass for most of it. It was SUCH a hot time, I’m literally floating on cloud 9 right now. He’s going to come back and see me next week and I can’t lie – I’m looking forward to it.

Most of the time, this job fucking rules, legit. I love it so so so much. I wish you guys could see the grin on my face or feel how blissfully happy I feel right now. I am having the best time here at The Bunny Ranch this time around, I may never leave. Just kidding, I love RI too much.

I am exhausted however, so I am going to crash now, I have a 14-hour shift in just a few short hours…I wonder what chaos and trouble tomorrow will bring. I love you all so much, thanks for being the kind of people that I can share this stuff with.

xx

Harper

To Be Continued…

I want to apologize for not writing lately, but also I’m not very sorry because the reason I haven’t been writing is that I’ve been busy and having fun and enjoying myself 🙂 This trip is going so much better than my last one, I can’t even tell you. I still miss home and all of my lovies, but I haven’t cried even once since I’ve been here (last visit by day 5 I had cried maybe 9 times lol). Well, actually, I did cry once when DAN PFIEFFER LIKED MY FUCKING TWEET but that doesn’t count cause they were happy tears.

Tomorrow morning I’ll type up how my last few days have been for you guys, I promise.

I love you all.

xx

Harper
P.S. Fuck Trump.

 

 

Just because there’s a hurricane going on around you doesn’t mean you have to open the window and look at it

Hello my loves!!!

Just had to update you because I was lowkey stressing last night, but I got cleared to work 🙂 So tonight is my first night on shift, but it’s been pretty dead so really I’ve just been hanging out. However, something HUGE (please pronounce that like Donald Trump says it when you read it) happened to me today and I must share.

DAN. PFIEFFER. LIKED. MY. TWEET. In case you do not remember where you heard that name before, he is the author of the book I was gushing about last night. He used to be Communications Director for Obama. Yeah, he knows who I am. Ish. Through Twitter, so not really. Needless to say when I got the notification I lost all resemblance of cool. This is my in you guys, I don’t know how I’m going to use it…but this is my in. 🙂

Other than that I really don’t have much to share. I got to spend some of my down time today with two other bunnies from here at the Ranch which was really nice. The solitude can really get to you here, at least it gets to me, and being able to hang out and chat with other ladies here really makes all the difference. I am so thankful for them both. Society has all these misconceptions about what it means to be a sex worker and what we do/how we act, but these girls are just pure badasses. They’ve turned their sexuality into a business and rock the shit out of it. They have goals with concrete, thought out, detailed plans on how to follow them through. They’re ambitious and genuine and kind, and honestly just really impressive souls.

Tomorrow is July 4th, which feels weird this year if I’m being honest. It feels wrong to celebrate a nation that is so overrun with misogynistic, homophobic, racist, fucktards…but I also really can’t wait to blast Hamilton and toast to our Founding Fathers for the gift they gave us (even though most of them were racist too). For the holiday The Bunny Ranch is having a pool party/cookout tomorrow and it’s open for the public so I’m wicked excited to have something to do during the day. And for the food. But also I’m pretty anxious about it, I hope that I don’t get all awkward and make it weird and that people will want to hang out with me. I hope I can play it cool and everyone will be like, “oh, she’s so cool” but we’ll see.

So that’s it for me, today is the day the liberals start a civil war (shout out to Alex Jones for letting me know) and I really must pick out and outfit and prepare. See you on the battlefield.

All my love,

Harper

You’re beautiful, every little piece love.

Hi! Just stopping in because I promised that I would write more. I think I struggle because I want every entry post to be this deep, eloquent, insightful masterpiece but sometimes my day and my thoughts are just not all that tremendous. But that can be okay too, and sometimes those monotonous, simple days end up consisting of the things that eventually lead to a deep, insightful breakthrough, you never know what’s at work in your life. So, here I am, even though today was absolutely a tedious, long ass day.

As you know, the Bunny Ranch makes us get tested every week and usually that day is Wednesday. However because the holiday falls on Wednesday this week a few of us, myself included, came early so that we could get tested early and be ready for the week without the holiday getting in the way of us getting our results back. So, I went to the doctors office this morning with another girl in the house, we’ll call her A, but despite us getting there fairly early they already had over a 2.5 hour wait. Fucking insane. So we made appointments for later that day and then I drug her with me to get my eyebrows done (first time I got them threaded…my new obsession), and then we went to the movies. Because what else do you do when you have hours to kill in a town you don’t know. We saw Jurassic World which was honestly pretty good! They’re not my favorite movies ever made, but this one was my favorite from what I’ve seen of the others. Plus, Chris Pratt is such a smoke show that anything with him in it is worth your time.

After the movies we went back to the doctors, still had to wait another hour, and then finallllyyyy we were seen.

Quick swerve: I read this article in The New York Times Magazine while I was waiting that reported about how The Heritage think tank funded and manipulated politics/the news/social media to help get Republican control with someone like Trump into The White House and honestly, it was hella depressing. It’s terrifying how much of our life, and the path of society, is decided by elites and people we have no control over. It’s even more petrifying how many people in our country don’t see it, who think these guys actually have their interests at heart. The amount of money this think tank raised is astronomical, and those people who donated (all rich white men), were either given positions inside The White House or given a voice to determine which direction the White House takes this country. The president of the think tank at the time of the presidential elections was literally quoted saying that they liked Trump because he genuinely wanted to shake things up and also because he had no SOLID STANCES ON ANYTHING SO THEY COULD IMPLEMENT THEIR OWN GOALS. And what’s worse?! The company is now run (because there was so much infighting and toxicity and backstabbing and taking sides….kind of not unlike the current Administration….not surprising because this fucking think tank created the administration) but this think tank is now being run by an African American woman. What a fucking disgrace. Nevertheless that is a rant for a different day.

Back to the waiting room at the doctors office: I fucking hate getting tested, it’s the worst. I mean, okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but still, I don’t like it very much. I do it so often you would think I’ve gotten used to it but I honestly haven’t. I hate getting pricked and I hate the anxiety and I hate having to put my legs in the stirrups and get swabbed and I hate the waiting. Even when you just got tested last week and know you’re clean and that it’s all going to come back okay, you still worry. It’s the same kind of anxiety you get when you take a pregnancy test – just like a little nag inside that’s going “please please please be negative.” So, now I simply wait. I’m unpacked and settled into my room here at the Ranch, but I can’t work until the doctor clears me. Fingers crossed I get the results tomorrow so that I can work the 4th. If you could all please send the lab here in Carson City all of your productive vibes…I’m ready to be a whore already. It’s been a minute since I’ve worked, I put all of my time and energy into school these past few weeks that I haven’t seen anyone in quite some time. I miss being a good little dirty whore 🙂 Oh! Well, I did have that 20 guy gangbang like 2 weekends ago…and a sex party last Friday…but still, those don’t count.

Annyyyyywayyys, after the doctors we had some lunch and then made a Wal-Mart run to get some supplies and things we were in need of. You’d be surprised how many things one actually needs to be comfortable for a two week period. And how many things one doesn’t need but buys anyways – like pink light bulbs and towels. I really do have a shopping problem. Now I’m back at the Ranch, with the night off, just hanging out. I’m going to read some more of my book, which is my newest craze, I’ve barely been able to put it down since I opened it.

Second swerve: For any of you interested in politics, I highly recommend Dan Pfieffer’s book, Yes We (Still) Can: Politics in the age of Obama, Twitter, and Trump. Dan was the former Communications Director for President Obama and is currently co-host of my all-time favorite podcast, Pod Save America. He’s also brilliant and hysterical and donating proceeds from a portion of his book sales to charities that aid those being disenfranchised by the Trump Administration, so you should definitely go and get his book. (I wonder how he would feel about a hooker promoting his work?! Probably a little awkward.)

But I digress, today was a long but overall good day.

The bright spot in my day was A (what we’re calling the girl I hung out with all day in case you don’t remember). She’s super private so I’m not really going to write much about her here, but I will say that she’s everything you hope the girls here are. Intelligent, self-aware, beautiful, and empowered. It makes me happy knowing that there are bunnies like her working here, and I hope that I get to spend more time with her during my stay. However, there’s a good chance I get weird and creepy and make it all awkward so, let’s just cross our collective fingers that I can be chill. As if.

Later tonight I’m going to go hang out with some of the girls that I befriended last time I was visiting…I can’t wait to catch up with them!! Earlier I ran into Jenny, remember her? (She’s the queen who trained me) and I think we’re going to grab some drinks later tonight at the bunny bar. Yes, it’s really called that. And yes, we still have to pay for our drinks even though we’re bunnies (this is where I casually, not so casually drop a hint about how nice it would be if alcohol money showed up in my Paypal account for us bunnies).

My main goal for these next few days is to work on getting my sleeping schedule switched over, soon I’m going to have to be working through the night and sleeping through the day…on top of jet lag. Oof. Last time I was here this was a real struggle for me, I imagine it won’t be any easier this time around. I’m hoping to stay up until 2 AM tonight, which is 5 AM eastern time and according to my inner clock, so I’m definitely going to go make a coffee now. My second goal is to STOP STUFFING MY FACE WITH FOOD. Literally, as I type this I am polishing off a bag of sweet potato chips…that I bought yesterday. It’s unreal how much I eat when I’m here, it’s like there’s nothing else to do and so my mind is just screaming..EAATTTTT. So beyond frustrating.

And that’s it, my not so eloquent or exciting day. But how pumped am I that I sat down and wrote anyways?! Probably way more pumped than you guys are reading it haha here’s to hoping that these next two weeks have some sexy, fun, wild experiences in store that I can share with you. But for now, I have a date with Dan Pfieffer as I battle my desire to go and eat more food 🙂

All my love,

Harper

 

And the battle was long, it’s the fight of our lives, but we’ll stand up champions tonight

I’m currently on a 7-hour flight to Reno. For some reason, I always write my most important words on airplanes. There’s something about being 10,000 feet up in the air and looking down at everything on the ground. You start to feel small. You realize you are pretty small and life is pretty short. You’ve got a short window of time to make a dent in your space in the world. Use it wisely, I tell my chaotic and often conflicting heart. Use every moment wisely.

Since I left the Ranch some big things have happened for me, and I wish I had been disciplined enough to write about them so that I could have brought you along in my journey, but alas, I have the self-discipline of an unsupervised 4-year-old in a candy store. And so, a re-cap will have to do. I started back at school this summer, classes just finished up last week. And guys, I have to confess, it felt gooood. To be challenged, yes, but to measure up and meet that challenge head on. I did a really fucking good job in school, but more than that, I loved it. Every fucking minute. And that put things into perspective. That I can thrive and flourish and find a home in the midst of feeling uncomfortable or scared. I had no idea what being back in school would feel like, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to handle the pressure or perform at the standard I was holding myself too, but I did. Vibrantly.

I’m learning that it is one thing to know your weakness and another thing to project your weakness out of fear that you don’t add up. At the end of each day, I am not my insecurity. I am not my anxiety. I am not my fear. Going back to school, there wasn’t an option to leave early and run back to what was comfortable and still be able to name it success like at the Ranch. If I dropped out, it was called failure. Up until classes, I was trying things and putting myself out there, but only kind of. I was projecting confidence but inside doubting. I was pushing my limits but only daintily. I was bragging about living large and trying new things, but I never made myself stay there long enough to grow. School changed that.

I think that’s why I left the Ranch, because I was uncomfortable and a little bit scared, and I knew I could call it quits and still be patted on the back for a job well done. Failing was absolutely an option, and it looked like coming home with a fat paycheck and spending the week in NYC with my best friend. The fear of failing didn’t outshine the fear of being here and not measuring up to the other girls. The discomfort of having to tell everyone I was coming home early wasn’t near as large as the discomfort of having to be on my own in a new setting and stay there. I love being the center of attention. I shine brightest when I’m with a group of people that I know love me, in a situation that suits me, doing things I love. The Bunny Ranch was none of those things at first, and I didn’t like feeling like the outsider. It became a petri dish for my insecurity and anxiety to flourish. I felt awkward, inadequate, tepid.

But here’s the thing about being back in school, I didn’t just learn the differences in Constitutional interpretation or the intricacies of how a law is made; I also learned that at some point you have to realize fear of inadequacy, or anxiety over your likability, is not a good enough reason to rob yourself of opportunities. They don’t get to be the excuses you use to justify not doing your best or giving it your all. I think it is possible to be stepping up onto a platform and kicking yourself down from it at the same time. It is possible to let your weakness shine brighter than your character. And I think it’s tragic. I think we waste so much time wondering why we are where we are. Or why we are the people we are. I want to look through a different lens. I want my life to be exuberant and purposeful. I want to be able to say I am qualified for this day, that I am equipped for this experience. That I am competent, and valid, and able. And I refuse to let anxiety be the thing that holds me back from whatever experience I’m facing.

So, that’s why I’m coming back, to The Bunny Ranch. Because fear cannot win, I simply refuse to let cowardice dictate my life. I have to give it another try, because I want more for my life. I would hate to look back and see that I had a real chance to be a part of something bigger than myself, that I had a real chance to grow and learn more about myself, but instead I let fear and anxiety keep me from those experiences. From those stories. From the friendships. From the lessons. If I could ace (yes, I finished the semester with an A!) Professor U’s History of American Politics class, then I can most definitely find my place among the beautiful bunnies here at the Ranch. Anything else is wholly unacceptable.

So wish me luck, I promise to blog more and worry less this time around.

xx

Harper

 

 

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And there are no rules when you show up here

So, let me start by stating the obvious…I suck at blogging. Sorry it’s been so long since you’ve heard from me, I’d like to blame it on me being too busy but in reality it’s pure laziness. I have the worst self discipline than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s officially been a week here at The Bunny Ranch, and it really is nothing like I expected. The quiet between doorbell rings seems to grow and grow with each passing day, to the point that I almost came home early. It’s totally dead here, but even despite that, I  love it. I love it so much that I want to stay, but I don’t want to be away from the faster paced, more exciting and stable life that I have waiting for me back home. Since I’ve last written you, I’ve had four more parties…all on Monday night. That’s a lot of fucking down time, ya know? I’ve been stuffing my face (I’m currently doing some damage to some soymilk ice cream right now) and I’ve been binging on Sex and The City (Am I a total Samantha or what?!). Unfortunately I still haven’t gotten more than 5 hours of sleep at a time, so I’ve been feeling pretty exhausted most of the night. But I can sleep when I’m dead, right??

Monday has by far been my favorite day since I’ve been here. I partied with a couple who was on their way to get married, made a virgin a virgin no longer, did a cockworshiping session, and got my brains fucked out. To say I was giddy does not do my headspace justice….I was on cloud 9 times 4. I fucking love what I do. And it’s more than just the sex, I love getting to be an experience for someone else. I love showing them how to escape, how to let go. There’s something so magical about being able to create a safe space for people to be able to show their deep desires, and then meeting those secrets with celebration and encouragement. It’s pure, genuine magic. And I feel so honored and blessed to be that person for some of these people, it’s not something I take lightly. And being here adds to the entire experience, because there’s others taking that journey with me. This place was built on celebrating the parts of ourselves that we’ve been taught our whole lives to feel ashamed of. I just wish the traffic was more consistent, I’m crossing my fingers hard that I have at least one other busy evening as such, because honestly these days kind of start to drag.

One of the things that I find really cool about being here is how the town acts towards us when they find out what we do. Back home it’s something I seriously have to think about when it comes to who I tell and who I lie to, but here, because it’s legal and out there for everyone to see there’s no need to lie about it. I told the cashier lady at Walmart why I was here when she asked what brought me to Reno and she didn’t even bat an eye. Just complimented me and wished me a successful trip. When my Uber driver picked me up this morning he ended up offering to chauffeur me around all morning, and even went on a special run to pick me up some Mexican food he swore I had to try. It’s the weirdest thing, it kind of feels like we’re admired a little bit…it’s like the legality completely discredits the stigma. It makes you wonder, does society stigmatize and isolate sex workers because of morals or does it actually have to do more with the fact that it’s breaking the law? My guess is a whole lot of both.

Tomorrow morning, 10:30 PST I’ll be part of a live stream with Alice Little and Jessica Weenie (a chef that competed on Chopped) where we answer questions, hang out, and do a mini cooking show. We’re going to be making vegan chili for a party we’re having tomorrow night. You guys can all catch us on Alice’s twitter, her handle is: TheAliceLittle.  My hope is that the party brings a lot of guys to the ranch and that in turn it will bring a lot more guys into my bed….and hopefully this weekend ends up being a bit more busy and exciting. My trip seems to be dragging and flying by simultaneously, and I don’t quite know how that is.

I know my entry is shorter than most, and I do feel bad for the lack of excitement I have to bring you but straight up there just hasn’t been too much for me to write home about. Let’s all cross our collective fingers and toes that this weekend brings some debauchery with it so that we can all go to bed a bit more satisfied.. I love you all

xx

Harper

Cause the players gonna play, play, play

What a fucking wild 36 hours I’ve had, to say that I am tired is the biggest understatement of this decade. I’ve worked three shifts now and I’ve slept about 6 hours total, but I’m so happy so it’s alright. This place is cool, and the girls say hi to me now when they pass me in the hallways..but it’s much slower here than I would like. I’ve had three parties so far since I’ve started, which means that for the whole 40 hours I’ve worked I’ve only actually worked maybe 3 of those. That’s rough. It’s hard not to feel like you’re wasting your time here…but it’s totally worth it for the experience.

Last night I got picked out of the first lineup of the evening, it was the cutest war veteran…he was so nervous he couldn’t say anything without stammering a bit. There’s something about seeing how nervous a guy is to be there that just makes me feel so much affection for them. To know that they’re that nervous and yet they still came in, and followed through, and are making it happen for themselves, that’s something to admire and be proud of…ya know? So anyways, we ended up agreeing on a price for a 15 minute party with oral only. I know I don’t have to tell you guys, but I rocked his world 🙂 After he left I went to the next line up and it was a couple (we get so many of them!!!) at first the couple said they just wanted to hang at the bar, but after a bunch of shots they decided they wanted to party with me. It ended up being a pretty fun time!! I went down on her, fucked her with my toys, and then she laid on top of me while her husband fucked her so we could make out. And there was lots of eye contact. It was a pretty delightful time until the end when she started telling me that I shouldn’t be doing this for a living because I deserve more and have “too much potential”. I know she thought she was coming from a nice place, but I was so offended. Like bitch, you don’t get to hire me and then judge me after I just made you and your husband cum. You can fuck right off with that bullshit. There’s something discouraging when you hang out with someone who is progressive and open minded but still struggle to see sex work as something pure and empowering. I see it on Fetlife all the time. It just reinforces why a place like this is so important, there’s a whole community of people who genuinely get it. Who understand what’s in my heart and what this business can do for you: financially, mentally, and emotionally. But, that’s a journal entry for when I’m well rested and able to form coherent thoughts eloquently.

Moving on, the thing that sucked about last night is that both of those parties were done by like 7, and then I got nothing else…so the next eleven hours was just me hanging out. Finally 6 am came around and I passed out, got about 2 hours of sleep before my wake up call for a 9 am party. It was a pre booked party from a guy that saw me on The Bunny Ranch message boards. And let me just tell you, I was not my best haha that poor soul. I looked rouuuuugh. Thankfully he wasn’t looking for anything too crazy, we did a 90 minute party and I rode him just about the entire time…so I got a good quad workout in, which is good because I’ve had no time to work out haha so there were winners all around. The only thing that kind of bummed me out is that he didn’t cum, he said he can’t cum around other girls…he has to wait until he gets home to masturbate. Which I totally understand but ughhh I’m feeling incredibly cum deprived these days. Quite devastating if you ask me.

Today was nice but I got even less action. I slept for about three hours after my morning party and then had to get ready for my shift tonight. Also, today the ranch did some live streaming which I guess they do every Saturday, so we all sit down in front of a camera and kind of interview each other. Madam Suzette picks one of the veteran girls to be the interviewer and the rest of the bunnies take turns getting interviews. It’s just a cool way for guys who are wanting to know more about the different bunnies to get to know us a little better. It was fun listening to the other girls answer questions and chat, but when it came to my turn she didn’t ask me near as many questions. I felt like I hardly got a chance to say anything of substance or showcase my personality really…I still haven’t decided how much to read into that or not. Honestly, I don’t really have the emotional energy to give it much of my attention. After that the Bunny Bar and Lounge got pretty busy which was fun, but unfortunately none of the men were interested in anything more than having some drinks and looking at the girls. I did have one little party but it was like 5 minutes, he was a sweetheart from Canada who just wanted to see my body naked. What a fucking missed opportunity, am I right?

The rest of this evening kind of drug on, butttt it was karaoke tonight and that was a blast. I even ended up singing!!! I did The Pretty Girl Rock and then King Kunta by Kendrik Lamar…I butchered both of them pretty spectacularly, but was proud that I did it anyways. I also lost 9 games of Uno, won 2, and ate way too many Cheerios. Watching my diet has proven to be incredibly difficult to do here, because there’s nothing else to do but eat. I would rather be stuffing my face with dick, but alas, goldfish has taken it’s place. Now it’s 5:15 am and I have 45 minutes left until blissful sleep. I. Cannot. Wait. My hope is that I’ll be able to sleep straight until noon and then maybe I can finally work out before my shift tomorrow night. Also, tomorrow Dennis Hof comes back…so I’ll finally get to meet him. Here’s to hoping that he likes me, and that I can bite my tongue about the fact that he’s a pimp who is running for office representing a party that thrives on oppressing and controlling women and their bodies. Unfuckingbelievable if you ask me.

That’s all I’ve got for you babies tonight. I’m not writing these near as nicely and thoughtfully as I want to be, but I just can’t find the time or energy right now. Once my sleep schedule adjusts I promise to do better. I love you all, gallons and gallons. I really hope that I get a big party tomorrow…something of substance. Cross your fingers for me!

xx

Harper