fellatio

The Connoisseur

lollipop

For the last three decades, I have managed to tangle myself in some precarious predicaments.  Most of these sordid scenarios involved a man, or men (note the shift to plural) and sex was always on tap.  Quite honestly I stopped keeping a numeric record of my conquests many years ago.  It was too taxing to place a number on each of them.  So instead, I began keeping a mental “top ten” list.

Today, I would like to dish on my top cocks.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I know…how crude.  But let me just cut to the chase…I love cock.  I worship cock.  Over the years I have had them in all shapes and sizes.  You could say that I have become a bit of a connoisseur (or “cockisseur”) from my vast experience.  I study them.  I learn from them.  To this day, every time I pleasure my One, I learn something new.  A new trick.  A new sensation.  A new way to please Him more.  And believe me, I am always hungry and thirsty for knowledge.

Let’s start this countdown of my most memorable members, with those who packed some serious heat.  It’s often said that “size doesn’t matter” and I couldn’t agree more.  However…there is something to be experienced when you are stretched and filled to capacity.  When every movement is a reminder of their impressive stature.  And let me clarify before I go any further…these are not my top ten lovers.  I am only talking about cock.  A person could be hung like a Derby winner, but have the sex skills of Sheldon.

Which brings me to…the doctor.  Not a medical doctor, but rather a PhD (note, the D stands for DICK).  I met him online.  He lived on the coast about 2 hours from me.  He coaxed me to visit him one weekend.  Prior to that we talked for weeks and exchanged photos.  He was average looking, but seemed like a nice guy.  As our conversations progressed, he sent me a picture of his impressive cock.  And I honestly thought he had photo-shopped it, or copied a pic online.  So I wasn’t expecting much.  He was more average looking than his pic and quite short…but DAMN.  His dick was huge.  And he had a piercing.  I’d never experienced anything like that.  He fucked me on his balcony in broad open daylight and I am sure anyone in a two mile radius heard me.  Every thrust made me gasp in ecstasy.  But he couldn’t hold a conversation.  He had very peculiar eating habits, and acted like Rain Man in the restaurant.  He was just a bit weird and socially awkward.  I realized quickly that we would never go any further than the weekend.  All I wanted was the sex…so we stopped trying to talk, we stopped trying to connect and we fucked until we both passed out, woke up and then, we fucked again.

There were a few others that fall into “The Heat Packers” category.  There was the older gentleman, who was into BDSM and introduced me to caning. (Such fond memories) He was quite a bit older than he professed, and I was initially put off by it.  I don’t like deception.  I almost backed out of our encounter, until I saw what he was packing.  This senior had a cock the size of my forearm and he was quite savvy with using it.  He was an expert in Tantric sex and he taught this little girl a thing or two…or ten.  I felt like I gushed every time he pushed himself inside me.

There was the retired NFL player.  I had never seen anything like Mr. Johnson’s Johnson.  I salivated from both sets of lips.  I didn’t know if I wanted to mount him or suck him first.  I just knew…I wanted him inside me.  And I left his place that night with TMJ from having to open my mouth so wide…and I could barely walk.  For DAYS.  Moral of the story…you can have too much of a good thing.

Enough of the big stuff…let’s dish on the others.  There was “Captain Hook” whose cock had an actual curve to it, to the left.  I was disappointed when I first saw it thinking it wouldn’t hit the right spots.  Boy…was I wrong.  The “hook” hooked me.  He understood how to use the curve to his advantage.  And I had another one whose member curved upwards.  That was another fun time.  And was especially hot when we did anal. It was the perfect blend of pleasure and pain.

There are the “pretty boys” whose cocks were a work of art.  If I possessed artistic flair, these are the ones I would have sketched, framed and put in my living room on display…on a fucking gallery wall.  The one that comes to mind is the drill instructor whose face and physique were a work of art…and when he dropped trou, I saw the clouds part and heard angels sing.  His cock was perfection.  Smooth.  Nice girth.  Perfect length.  The head was well-defined and fit snugly in my throat.  I loved to worship him.  I loved looking at his perfect member.  I loved how he fucked me.

There was my college boyfriend.  He had a beautiful dick.  He was ahead of the times and was clean shaven before it became popular and his cock was long and smooth.  It was very long.  He was 6’4 and his member was a representation of his long stature.  I remember how he would wake me up in the morning, already inside me.  I have never enjoyed a wake-up call as much I did then.

There are the “don’t judge the book by the cover” ones.  As I mentioned earlier in the post, I was surprised by how some of the most unassuming ones, were packing heat.  There were those who were absolutely incognito.  There was the detective.  He was a client of mine, when I worked for the escort service.  I was a bit worried when I realized he was in law enforcement…and thought…well, here goes, I’ll be in jail by midnight.  But he truly just wanted to fuck someone who was not as inhibited as his dowdy little wife.  He wore glasses and looked the part of a nerd.  Not judging ( I love a nerd) and I thought…okay, let’s get this over with.  I was surprised, he had a very nice dick.  Well-proportioned.  And once clothes were off, he lost his nerd-like demeanor and handled his business.  He paid for an extra hour and even fucked me in the ass. He was confident because he was aware of his manhood.  And on the flip side…there was the triathlete who had some serious swagger.  I was anticipating a wild romp in the hay…but not the case.  His endurance was limited to athletics and I wondered if he had used steroids.  We will just leave it at that.

So to recap…I have had my share of surprises, disappointments and more than my fair share of learning along the way.  One thing is I am and always will be enamored with the male anatomy.  It’s certainly not penis-envy, but rather pure adoration and appreciation of cock.  And on that note, I will close.

Think it’s time to “adore and appreciate” someone…

the goods

(Photo credits, Pinterest)

Sand and Surf (Conclusion)

“Let’s go down to the pool” he said.

“I don’t have my swimsuit with me” I said. We were staying in the same hotel, but I didn’t want to risk waking Wendy’s parents trying to get it.

Tony looked at me and grinned. “Don’t worry. You won’t need it”

At his recommendation, I threw on one of his t-shirts, grabbed some towels and followed him into the hallway. I had nothing on underneath. In fact, it was the one time in my existence that I wore an Ohio State t-shirt, which was blasphemous for a Georgia girl.

We made our way to the pool. It was empty except for a middle-aged couple in the hot tub.  They’d been drinking and were talking a bit loud. They left a few minutes after we arrived.  As soon as they were out of sight, Tony turned to me and said, “Let’s get in the pool”

He took his shorts off and stood there naked, impatiently waiting for me to take off the t-shirt, and join him in the water. I was a bit nervous. After all, I was on vacation, with my best friend and her parents, who were staying in the same hotel. But hell, I’d already had sex on the beach, in the open, at least the pool was a bit more secluded and dimly lit.

I took off the t-shirt and followed Tony into the pool. It was as warm as bath water. We swam around and splashed each other. It was just another form of foreplay for us. He pulled me over to one of the ladders. I thought he wanted to get out, so I began to climb up the ladder, when he came up behind me and grabbed my breasts. I felt his hard cock on my leg. I could see he was ready to finish what we’d started upstairs.

I opened my legs wider as I held onto the ladder for support. He steadied himself with one hand on the ladder and the other on my hip, as I felt him enter me. It was so erotic. Being in the water, naked, in public, with no concern for who may see us. I loved how the water made us weightless as we moved in sync on the ladder.

He pulled me closer into his body, whispering in my ear. “You know what I really want, Tess?” he asked. “I want you to suck me under water. Do you think you can do that?”

I pondered it for about 3.5 seconds as I turned to face him.

“Turn around and sit on the ladder.” I said.

He sat on the ladder and stroked his cock beneath the water. I could see how turned on he was. I took a deep breath and dove underwater to face him. I got very close to his body and managed to take his cock into my mouth without having to come up again for air. He put his hands on my head and guided the pace. I was not able to do it for long before coming to the surface to breathe.

I felt like a naughty mermaid, enchanting her lover. I was quite impressed with myself. All of those swim lessons at the YMCA, sure paid off. Soon I descended beneath the surface and took him in my mouth again. This time, I was able to suck a little longer. I would emerge for air and excitedly return to my task below. Each time it seemed I was able to stay down for bit more time. He loved it.

His pace quickened and I could tell he was ready to explode. He pulled me back to the surface as he wanted to fuck me again. We swam together over to the shallow end. He had me sit on one of the steps leading into the water. I faced him as he pulled my legs up by the ankles, opening me wide. I held onto the rail and he fucked me right there. On the concrete steps. My back hurt from the pressure, but I didn’t care.

Afterward we got out the pool, dried off and put on our clothes (remember, for me it was just his t-shirt). We were both exhausted and decided to lay on some lounge chairs by the pool before heading back upstairs. In a matter of minutes, we fell asleep.

I woke up to Wendy standing over me fussing. “Get up! It’s 4:00. My mom is going to be pissed!” Apparently, she and John had fallen asleep upstairs. I jumped up and grabbed my sandals, scurrying off with Wendy. Tony was still passed out by the pool. John was coming down the stairs to get him, as we were going up.

We managed to slip into our room undetected, artfully sliding into bed without a sound.  In typical fashion, Wendy’s mother woke us up around 7:00. Bleary-eyed and sore, I stumbled to the bathroom for a shower and realized that I was still wearing Tony’s Ohio State t-shirt. Lucky for me, no one noticed.

Later that afternoon, we packed up to return home. We’d originally planned on staying one more night, but Wendy’s sister was feeling ill, so we cut the trip short. Which was fine with me. After all, I’d played on the beach with Aaron, learning more than I ever wanted to know about sand. I’d played in the water with Tony, learning an important life skill that gives new meaning to the term “snorkeling.”

By my tawdry standards, it was a very successful trip.

pool sex-rev

(Photo credit: Pinterest)

 

A Man Named Dick (Part 2)

He moved closer to me and said, “You do make house calls don’t you, Tess?”

I grinned and said, “I sure do, Dick. For you, I will.”

So it was set…

I was making a “house call” as he so cleverly put it.  When it was time to leave for the day, Dick pulled me aside.

“Why don’t you just spend the weekend with me?”

I thought about it for a minute. I was off of “call” for the weekend. I had no other plans. He was a good kisser with an obvious dirty side. So I thought, what the hell…

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He smiled, “Good. Pack a bag and meet me over at my place around 8:00. We may be going out, so bring more than your nightie.” He snickered and winked at me.

“Where are we going?” I asked. I needed to know so I could prepare the perfect outfit.

He played coy with me, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe dinner. Maybe drinks. Maybe hell”

“Hell?” (What the hell does “hell” mean???)

He said, “Yes, Hell.  Disco Hell. You up for it?”

Disco Hell was a themed night a local bar/pub sponsored once a month. They played 70’s disco music and most people dressed for the occasion in their bell bottoms, and disco dresses. And I had the PERFECT ensemble already.

My answer to him, “Hell yes!”

I got home and packed accordingly. I brought a sexy black gown, heels, a couple of outfits and a sultry sundress and my outfit for Disco Hell. It was a micro mini in a Pucci print, with a plunging halter top and platform heels. I managed to sell my plans to my suspicious parents (I’d just moved back home) as a girl’s trip to Athens for the weekend, and I set off to Chez Dick.

He lived in the historic district of town, where many of the old houses had been converted into apartments. I assumed he lived in an apartment too, but he actually lived in a house. It was a bungalow style from the 1940’s, mostly renovated. It was small but very nice. He met me at the car and helped me carry my bags in.

He took my bags to his room and toured me around the house. We ended up in the kitchen where he fixed me a drink and we sat in there and talked for a while. The chemistry seemed to be fading and I wondered if I’d made the right decision to spend the weekend.

It was almost 10:00 and the drinks were making me sleepy.  Maybe I was bored, who knows.  Dick could tell I was losing interest and said, “Get dressed, let’s go out.”

I hesitated for a moment, but then I remembered it was Disco Hell and I had a fabulous outfit. I excused myself to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and came out to get my outfit, where I found Dick lying on the bed, completely naked.

“I don’t have anything to wear to Disco Hell.” he smirked.

I took his cue and stripped down right there, and said, “Neither do I.”

He stood up and walked over to me. We stood there admiring each other. His physique was lean and toned. I’d not realized how tall he was, as I was usually wearing some type of heels. Naked and barefoot, I felt small in his presence. He pulled my mouth towards his and kissed me…like he meant it. I almost lost my balance. To play it off, I stepped back and gracefully dropped to my knees.

I looked up at him and saw that boyish grin on his face. I thought to myself, ‘he has no idea who he has in his bedroom right now…I am about to blow his mind.’ And I focused on his hard cock facing me.

And holy shit….Dick had a huge one. He was originally from the Midwest and I’d heard those Nebraska, corn-fed boys were big-hanging, but I had no idea Dick was packing such a compromising package. No wonder he went by the name Dick. Sorry, I digress.  But damn.

I was swift in my work, taking the entire length of his shaft down my throat. I was determined not to gag, because I was a professional after all. I should be able to handle my liquor and my Dick. And as I concentrated on the task at hand, I felt his hands on the back of my head.

“Take it all, Tess. You horny girl. Take it all. You want me to fuck your mouth don’t you? Don’t answer that. I know you do. Keep sucking that huge cock.”

Had my mouth not already been wide-ass open, I would have probably sat there with my mouth wide-ass open in shock, hearing such dirty talk from Mr. Nice Guy, Dick.

He pushed himself in and out of my mouth until I was a slobbering mess.  The makeup I’d just applied was long gone. We went on like that for a while when he pulled me up from the floor and put me onto the bed.

“Damn, you are good. I knew you would be. You have a certain look about you, Tess. You do know what your are doing. Now I am going to show you a thing or two.”

(To be continued)

Dick-pt 2

Triple Play Weekend, pt. 1

Spring 2014.

As the days began to heat up, so did my desire. The warmth of sun during the day and the longer evenings at night seemed to ignite my curiosity. I was experimenting with online dating and had found a few prospects to chat with here and there. One of them was a pharmaceutical sales rep, another was an IT professional and another was a psychiatrist. There were a barrage of others, but these three were the ones I spoke with most often.

The psychiatrist was odd. Quirky and moody. Chatty one minute and then suddenly quiet. He lived about 3 hours away, on Hilton Head Island.  He invited me to visit several times and although I was tempted because of the location, his mercurial personality kept me from making any definite plans. That seemed to irritate and intrigue him at the same time. The pharmaceutical rep was very upfront.  He wanted a long-term affair, as his marriage worked well from a home/kids stance, but there was no passion. He had a deep Southern accent and cussed like a sailor, dropping f-bombs like poetry. And the IT guy was an experienced kinkster. He and his ex-wife were into swinging with other couples. When they split he started a relationship with a much younger woman, who looked to him for everything. After a couple of years, they split. I could tell by the third conversation, he was a Daddy Dom. He liked rescuing the damsel in distress. He liked having control. I found him interesting.

And really…if I am being truthful, all I wanted from any of these guys was hot sex. No long-term relationships. Nothing serious. I just wanted some fun. So given that predicament, what’s a bad girl to do? Or let me rephrase that…WHO is a bad girl to do? It was a difficult decision, as I’d grown fond of all of them. Memorial Day weekend was upon me and I had invites to meet them all…who to pick?  Why choose? Meet all three…which is precisely what I did.

I took Friday off and the pharmaceutical rep, Mark, paid me a visit. He lived several hourse south of me and drove in early that morning.  I watched him as he pulled in my driveway.  He was hot as hell and could have been Mark Walhberg’s stunt double. DAAAYYYUMM, he was sexy.  Such swagger. Such confidence.  He arrived at my door, which I’d left ajar, and walked into my house to find me on my knees waiting for him.  He swaggered over to me with that boyish grin and said, “You are one sexy bitch. I am going to love fucking you.” And with that he dropped trou and parted my lips with his thick cock. He pushed the hair from my face and looked into my eyes as he fucked my throat. He took me by the hand and walked me over to the loveseat where bent me over and devoured my wet cunt. He held me open as he went about his work. I came unglued and that fueled his fire. He could talk dirty better than anyone I’d ever met and his filthy language brought me to a different place of arousal. He goaded me as he pushed his cock inside me. “Motherfuck that’s some good shit..such a sloppy wet pussy. So fucking tight around me. I wanna feel you squirt on my dick. Come on me and suck it off you dirty little slut.” And he went on from there, “Fuck that is so good. Motherfuck you are tight” Let’s just say that it was late afternoon before we both knew it.  I could barely stand upright as he had worked my body over. My hair was a matted mess and we looked at each other and laughed. “Damn, girl. You know how to fuck. I can’t wait to see you again.” We stayed in bed and talked for a bit before he was on his way. I watched him swagger into his car and let out a long sigh…He was just what I was craving.

A few minutes later my phone buzzed with a text. It was the shrink from Hilton Head. “Please come see me this weekend. We will have a good time, I promise.” And with that, I responded, “I will be there tomorrow.  Send me your address.” He was shocked! And immediately called me, “Are you serious? You are finally going to visit me?”

“Yes. Let me get a babysitter and I will be there tomorrow and tomorrow night.  I will need to go home early Sunday.” He seemed excited and then said, “there’s something I need to tell you.” And I thought…here it comes.  He’s married…or he’s not really a shrink…or he doesn’t actually live where he said he did..or better yet, he’s a serial killer. I braced myself for the news.

“I have a piercing on my…on my cock. I’ve had it for years and women love the feel of it. I didn’t want you to be surprised if things go there.”

Of course things were going there.  I was intrigued by the piercing. It was something I’d not experienced before. I was excited by the thought of how it would feel. My response was positive,”I can’t wait to experience what that feels like. I will see you tomorrow.”

So there it was…Mark Walhberg one day…the pierced shrink the next. It was going to be a good weekend…and this bad girl was just getting started.

(To be continued)

markymark

Photo credit, Pinterest

 

 

 

Wonderland

elevator

My descent into the downward spiral of the rabbit hole was exhilarating.  I peeled off the mask I’d been wearing for seven years, finally recognizing my reflection in the looking glass.  It was me.  I had returned.  The darkness around me was a familiar place of refuge and I felt alive.

Greg continued his massage of my shoulders, slowly easing his hands towards my soft breasts.  He was gentle in his touch and I longed to kiss him again  Time was passing quickly and we couldn’t stay behind closed doors alone for much longer.  Someone was bound to notice and there would be talk.

Greg turned me around to face him.  “We should continue this later.  We don’t want to create any suspicion around here.”

I nodded in agreement.  He quietly unlocked the door and placed a chair under the vent he’d inspected.  “When you open the door, I will be on the chair pretending to diagnose your issue with the vent.  That should ward off any talk.”

He stood on the chair and as I moved towards the door. I noticed the bulge of his crisp khaki pants.  I paused as I walked by him, taking a moment to look up in his eyes seductively.  I casually opened the door and slid out of the office unnoticed by anyone.  He pretended to work with the vent for a few more minutes before leaving.

When I returned to my office, there was a note in my desk:

You name the time, and I will make time. Come see me in my office before you leave.  

Hmmm…Instructions.  I liked the tone of this note.  Around 4:50, I visited his office.  He was busy working on several projects, but welcomed me in.

“What are your plans for Friday night?’ he asked.

“I don’t really have any.  He is working nights and my son is staying over at a friend’s house.”

“Okay.  Could you stay out for a few hours?” he asked.

My face felt flushed.  It just dawned on me that I was about to dive in this pool.  I was about to plan this tryst with him.  I felt nervous at the thought of being intimate with someone new.  I’d brainwashed myself into monogamy and I began feel a slight moral dilemma.

“Is this too much, too soon Tess?” he asked.  I guess he could read my face.  He could see that I was struggling with making definite plans.

“No, it’s not.  I want this.  It’s not too soon…in fact it’s a bit late.  And yes, I can safely stay out until midnight”

He pondered his next comment.  “I am thinking we should meet at the Sheraton around 8:00.  I will get the room.  Just promise me this, if you change your mind, you will tell me and I will promise to do the same for you.”

I nodded in approval, “I don’t think I will back out, Greg. I don’t think Friday can get here fast enough for me.”

He grinned.  My LAWD the man was sexy.  It was only Tuesday.  How could I hold out until Friday?

The week moved on at its normal pace.  I was super-busy and so was he.  We would exchange niceties in the halls and spoke in morning meeting.  We both understood that we needed to WAIT for Friday.  We understood the intense heat between us and knew if we found ourselves alone for any amount of time that we would go too far.  That couldn’t happen at work.

Friday arrived and I felt like backing out.  I didn’t have a change of heart, but I was nervous about our encounter.  I somehow pushed through the day.  When the evening arrived, I took my time getting ready.  My son was with friends.  My husband at work.  And I had the house to myself.  I took a long, hot shower.  I made sure my skin was perfectly smooth.  I prepared myself as if I were going out on a first date.

I had just received a cell phone for work a few days prior.  Greg already had one and that’s how we communicated.  He called me around 7:30 to give me the room number.My heart jumped when the phone rang.  I knew it was him calling with the location.  His voice was deep and sexy, “Hello, Tess.  I am here.  The room is perfect, come on when you’re ready.  It’s room 719”

I did some last minute preparations and headed out. It took about 10 minutes to get to the hotel.  I arrived and the door to the room was ajar.  I knocked lightly as I opened it.  The lights were out and there were candles lit.  I looked down and noticed a trail of clothes on the floor.  Shoes. Socks. Pants. Shirt.  I followed the trail and saw him standing at the end.  He had on nothing but black boxers and that devilish smile.

I walked towards him and he pulled me close.  My face rested on his warm, toned chest.  He smelled divine. His skin was smooth and I rested my head on his heart as he stroked my hair. He pulled my face to face his.  His eyes smiled as he looked into mine. He planted a kiss on me that made me swoon.  I literally felt weak in the knees.

He pulled me close again, as he began removing my clothes.  Piece by piece.  He turned me around, with my back to him, as he unzipped my little black dress.  He carefully slid it over my head, leaving me there in my (matching) ivory and black lace bra and panties. He ran his hands over my back and carefully unfastened my bra.  He slowly pulled it away from my body as my breasts spilled out. He turned me to face him again as he looked at my body.  He kissed me as he guided me towards the crisp white bed.

“Lay down and get comfortable.” he instructed.  He sat next to me and massaged my body, circling my breasts, softly rubbing my legs, tickling my abdomen as he stroked it like a feather.  He kissed me as he touched the place between my legs.  I was still wearing my panties and he teased me by tracing the edges of the elastic with his fingertips.  I wanted him to rip them off and fuck me sore.  I wanted him to unleash what I’d held onto for seven years.  I wanted him badly.

He stood up and pulled my panties off.  They were moist from my arousal.  He dropped to his knees and buried his face in my thighs, exploring my slit with his tongue.  I whimpered and moaned in delight.  He slid a finger into my slippery place as he probed for the sweet spot.  Once he found it, I came immediately.  He stood up and I sat up, dropping to my knees on the floor, taking in all of his length in one movement.  He almost lost his balance as he felt for the bed under him.

I worshipped his ample cock.  I licked the shaft slowly, deliberately circling the head with my tongue before taking it deep.  I sucked softly and then aggressively, like the greedy slut I was.  I teased him by only taking in the tip and then taking it as far as it would go down my throat.  I don’t think he’d ever received anything like that.  He was so hard.  As much as I wanted to swallow his load, I also wanted to feel him deep within me.

I stood up and he pulled me on top of him.  His cock was slick with my saliva and it easily slid inside me.  I moved my body down onto his, feeling how he filled me.  I started to grind and buck, taking his cock deeper with each stroke.  I found myself going faster and faster, overcome with pleasure as we headed to orgasm.  We came together and I fell onto the bed beside him.  We both just lay there…in awe of what had just transpired.

“You okay, Tess?” he asked.  He was slightly out of breath.  I replied, “I am better than I have been in forever.”

He pulled me onto his chest and brushed the hair out of my face.  Looking at me, he said, “That was amazing.  I want more of you.  I want to have you as many times as I can tonight, you feel so good.”  I was speechless, as I was still recovering from the high.  But I found myself morphing back into the naughty girl from years past.

We took a candlelit bubble bath together and fucked again.  He took me from behind that time.  He filled every space inside me.  As he was about to unload, he pulled my shoulders back to edge in as far as he could.  He let out a primal growl as he filled me.  I loved it.  I wanted him rough.  I wanted him to use my body for his pleasure.  I wanted to give him something he didn’t get at home.  I wanted to be slut he needed me to be.

We carried on throughout the night.  Around midnight, we both got ready to leave.  He helped me put on my dress, but refused to let me put on my panties.  He said I should keep them off, as he found it sexy.  I was happy to oblige.  He walked me to the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse.  I was confused.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just taking a ride, that’s all.  Gives us a few more minutes together” And with that comment, he walked over to me, slipped his hand up my dress.  Pushing two fingers in my hole, he fingered me on the elevator for a couple of floors.  He slipped them out and put them in my mouth, running them around my lips.  I could taste my sex and his seed.  He then pinned me to the wall and kissed me.  “Now we have tasted each other together.  Until next time, baby.”  He kissed my cheek and walked off the elevator as it we had just reached the ground floor.  He walked to the left.  I walked out to the right.

And as I made my way to the car I thought about the evening and once again, I felt weak in the knees...

 

(photo credits, Pinterest)

Fist Full of Dollars, Mouth Full of…

Warning…

I am going to live up to my title…

This is going to be quite tawdry.

During our time together, I helped Viktor embrace his inner Dom.  It wasn’t difficult to coax it out of him.  It was in there and he was very attuned to his natural traits.  He demanded respect.  He was disciplined.  In control of himself and his emotions.  And he possessed a charm that made you want to do exactly what he wanted you to do.  During a few of our trysts together, I had the pleasure of experiencing his hand on my backside, of being dominated and taken by him.

As time moved on, Viktor and I morphed into this incredible friendship where we could be completely transparent with each other.  I found myself in a D/s (actually M/s) relationship (and it’s still going strong) and he found himself searching for a submissive. As fate would have it, he found a young woman in her early 30’s looking for a Dominant.  It seemed a good match.  She was willing to learn and eager to please him in every way.  And he was a patient Dominant, willing to train her to his liking.  Her name was Nadia and life was going well for them.

Although obedient, Nadia had a very bratty side.  She wanted to please Viktor, but often put her own needs first.  She would follow his commands, as it suited her, but often did things her way.  He was very patient with her.  He held her on a long leash, but when he had enough, he yanked it back with incredible force.  And there was always punishment.

Viktor’s punishments were unique and relevant.  He would typically ensure the punishment fit the crime, teaching a lesson.  If Nadia was late, she would be lashed for each minute.  He soon realized she enjoyed the lashing, so he would completely ignore her for each minute she was late.  She hated it and found herself more punctual to avoid it.  Nadia had a very smart mouth and would often speak out of turn.  Viktor turned a blind eye to this behavior, because it was a facet of her personality that he enjoyed.  However, she often towed the line between acceptable and rude.

One Saturday afternoon they prepared to go to Sak’s on a shopping trip.  Viktor’s mother’s birthday was quickly approaching and he wanted to find her something nice. He invited Nadia to join him, as she could provide a second opinion.  She was thrilled to help, but her bratty side bubbled out and she said, “If I go, what do I get?  If I am helping you, I should get something pretty.”  At first, her demands didn’t phase him.  He was so focused on his mother’s gift, that he paid little mind to her antics.  They were supposed to leave at 1:00, go to Saks and have lunch, which would have put them back home around 4:00.  Viktor had a video conference with some clients in Europe at 5:00 and he wanted to get this finished early in the day to make time for the meeting.  Nadia was fully aware of his timeline.  And to be a brat, she decided to run back in the house for something as they were leaving.  Viktor waited patiently for the first five minutes, but then, he became angry.

She climbed into the car around 1:15.  And as she got in the car, she gave him a bratty little smile.  He knew she had done this intentionally.  He knew that she was acting out because she wanted the guarantee of “something pretty” from their excursion.  And as he rounded the corner out of his driveway, he reached down between his legs, unzipped his pants and looked at her.

“Since you are clearly misbehaving, I will need you to suck my cock for the entire drive.  But you are not allowed to make me cum until I say so.  Do you understand me, Nadia?”

Once again, she smiled a bratty smile and said, “Yes, Sir.  I can’t wait!”

She leaned over and began her task of pleasuring him as he drove to their destination.  She loved this punishment.  She loved the feel of his cock in her mouth.  She loved pleasuring him on the open road.  It made her feel like such a naughty girl.  She was lost in her place, when Viktor said, “I am glad to see you are enjoying this.  Maybe if you are a good girl, I will get you something pretty.  But you have to complete the task.”

She came up for air and said, “Oh I will complete the task, Sir.  No worries there.”

Viktor just grinned to himself.  She had no idea what was in store for her.

They arrived at Saks around 1:40.  Nadia’s face was still buried between his legs as he parked the car.  She continued for a few minutes and asked if it was time yet?  Viktor was beyond ready to unload, but had waited for this precise minute.

Pulling her up by her sweaty hair, he turned her face to his.

“Bratty slut.  Your mouth and lack of respect have earned you an applicable punishment.  I hope you learn from this.  I am about cum in your mouth.  You are not allowed to swallow.  You must walk around the store with me, with my load in your mouth, until I tell you to swallow.  If you can do this, I will buy you something.  If not, I guess you will learn to be more careful of when you open your mouth.”

Her face showed it all.  That’s quite a task for anyone.  Our natural instinct is to swallow what’s in our mouth…and she was not allowed to.  And she had to keep composure,as they were at a nice store, and she had cum in her mouth.

She lowered her head and began to suck him once again.  He was so turned on by this time, that he was ready to explode in her mouth.  Which he did.  And she held it there as the walked into the store.  She couldn’t even talk, because she would have to swallow.  And Viktor made it clear, she was not to spill any.

They found a lovely gift for his mother about 15 minutes into their visit.  Then Viktor decided to up the stakes.  “If you can hold me in your mouth for another 15 minutes, I will buy you a bracelet.  But you must not swallow.”  She nodded.

As they perused the store, he would walk up behind her and whisper in her ear, “You naughty little slut.  You like how I filled your mouth.  You like how it feels to be my cum slut don’t you.  You wanna feel it slide down your throat, so you can relive the moment don’t you, slut?  I own you.  You are mine.  Be a good girl.  Don’t swallow”

That talk made it excruciating for her continue on with her task.  She was so turned on my his words, that she swallowed by accident. She looked at him in shock, as he had watched her do it.  His eyes met hers and they just stared at each other.  It was affirmation of their   power exchange.  She knew her place.  He knew his place.  They knew who they were together.

And with that realization, he stroked her cheek, kissed her forehead and took her by the hand, leading her to the jewelry department.  “You won’t get anything today, but let’s look.  I know you will do better next time.”  She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing he was a man of his word.  She would do better and he would reward her.

That Viktor is quite a man.

lips

Photo credit, Pinterest

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Growing up in the Deep South, it was an expectation to date within your own race, culture and religion.

I’ve never liked rules.  And I scoff at expectations.

My poor parents never knew who was coming to dinner. (But lets just say I always knew who was “coming” after dinner.)  My curiosity and adventurous spirit led me to some very interesting encounters with gents from all walks of life.

There was Geoff.  He was a restaurant manager where a few of my friends worked.  He was very dark and brooding.  No one called out sick when Geoff was there.  He ran a tight ship and as much as my friends disliked him, I found his power and control a big turn on.  He seemed to like me also.  We began dating and on the first date, I learned that he was Jewish.  I was fascinated.  We talked a lot about religion.  His very orthodox upbringing. His “rebellion” by dating Christian women.  We talked about rituals and teachings.  I was like a sponge.  I learned so much from him.

And then I thought…time to teach him a thing or two…

Although he was older than me by a few years, he’d not had many sexual experiences.  I feel that his upbringing had a lot to do with that.  I was happy to school him in the ways of the flesh.  He was a very tender lover.  Very considerate.  I longed for him to channel some of that power and control he exuded at work, but it just didn’t happen.  He just wasn’t confident enough yet to blend those parts of his personality.  But I could see a beast lurking behind those big brown eyes of his.  But it just didn’t last long enough for me to bring it out.  Our relationship fizzled before Passover.

There was Ki.  His mother was Korean and his father American.  We went to high school together and the bastard beat me out for Salutatorian by less than a point.  I never saw myself dating him.  He was so focused on school that I don’t think he dated much.  We were always friends (and always in competition) but there was no spark.  While in college that changed a bit.  He began working out and out of nowhere…picked up some serious swagger.  The combination of his new attitude and intelligence made me take an interest in him.  We started going out.  He was a doting boyfriend.  Always attentive.  Almost in a fatherly way.  He would ask if my car had gas, if I’d done my assignments, if I’d paid my bills (and offered to pay if I needed) and always made sure I had groceries.  Not that I needed any of this, but he ensured I was cared for.  For him, it was a learned behavior.  His mother had never worked outside of the home and his father handled everything.  She was very submissive and I feel that modeled what Ki sought in a girlfriend.

And in turn, as a submissive…I made sure he was cared for.  I gave him his first head.  And he was blown away.  He had only had missionary position sex and I opened the doors to contortions far beyond his imagination.   He was such an eager student that we fucked every chance we could.  It’s ironic that he tried to control my life in his own way…keeping me on task with the things I needed to do.  And I controlled him in a sexual way…steering the course of what we would do next.  It was an interesting dynamic.  And he loved nothing more than filling me with his seed when I rode him, only to have me finger myself to taste him afterwards.  Our little hot flame went out as he began testing to get into medical school.  His time was consumed with his studies.  But I must confess…I intentionally kept him up all night in a marathon fuckfest, the night before his first attempt at the MCAT.  Retribution, motherfucker…for beating me out of being Salutatorian.

There was Umesh, my chemistry tutor.  He was from India and was already arranged to marry a woman his parents selected for him.  And for me, in my rebellious nature, that posed a challenge.  How dare anyone decide for another person!  (Again…I was naive and headstrong…I had no idea that it was accepted in his culture)  So I took Umesh on as my student.  We didn’t have intercourse, but we explored far more than the periodic chart of the elements.  I showed him how to make me cum using only his index finger.  How to exact pleasure and pain by sucking my nipples.  I pleasured him manually and orally.  I think I even showed him some new hand job techniques.  He was always so grateful for our lessons. I am sure his knowledge served him and his arranged bride well.

And I ended up with an A in chemistry.

There were so many others I brought into the mix. My family finally began asking if there were any dietary preferences or religious restrictions when I said I was bringing home a date for dinner.  They eventually became accustomed to meeting people from different cultures, so I feel I did them a great service. And I didn’t do it to rebel against them or anyone else, I was truly thirsty for knowledge and experience.  I was able to learn things about different cultures and religions, intimate things.  I learned that at their core, men from all cultures and walks of life seek the same things.  Connection.  Respect.  Pleasure.

And amazing blow jobs.  

ki

The Student

Winter of 1988.

We met through a mutual friend, who said we were perfect for each other. He was almost 18 and I’d just turned 16.  His father was a dentist.  He attended a school in another county.  He was nice-looking, very tall and very smart.  His name was Joe.

Joe had all the traits of a confident, popular high school senior, except that he was painfully shy and socially awkward in certain scenarios.  He was most awkward when interacting with girls. I seemed to put him at ease.  And, I took him on as a project.

Our relationship began as a friendship.  We would attend different school functions in support of one another.  It gave us time to hang out and get to know each other in a comfortable setting.  But I found myself becoming more and more attracted to him.  I found myself thinking about him sexually.  Wanting him.

He was just so innocent.  So shy and nervous.  When we crossed the line from friendship into interest, our first kiss was a bit of a disaster.  But we kept at it and he grew more confident.  We began going on dates and instead of going to the movies as we said we were…we would end up in the backseat of his Volvo, making out to whatever was on the radio.  We never consummated the relationship.  He was very hesitant to go there.  I seemed to understand why.  I think it was performance anxiety.  He was still a virgin.

Joe knew that I was experienced.  More experienced and confident than he was.  I clearly knew what I was doing and he still fumbled about when trying to get into my jeans.  So I began to take on the role of coach, mentor, trainer to him.  You see, I knew the relationship we shared would not go anywhere.  Although we had so much in common on the outside, we were wired differently.  I knew that he couldn’t give me what I needed, even at such a young age…I knew who I was…what I craved…I understood my dark desires.  And Joe was truly too nice of a guy to handle my tar black soul.

I remember showing him how to remove my bra with one movement of his wrist.  How to caress my breasts, teasing my nipples.  I showed him how to kiss me on the neck to turn me on.  I demonstrated how to successfully get inside my jeans, with minimal effort. I explained a woman’s anatomy and showed him what felt good.  I let him experiment on me.  My body was like his laboratory and he was an eager student.

I remember the first time I took his cock in my mouth.  He came in a matter of seconds.  He was so embarrassed and apologetic.  But I explained that the only way to increase his endurance was through practice.  So we kept going there.  Eventually, he showed me what he liked.  He began to understand himself and his desires.  He learned how to communicate what he wanted from me.  How he liked it when I licked his shaft before taking him deep in my throat.

We carried on like this for weeks.  Each “date” was a tutoring session.  I taught him how to please me manually and orally. He became accustomed to giving and receiving pleasure.  He became more confident. He was morphing into the young man of my dreams.  But still, I knew it wouldn’t work long term.

One night after a long playdate in his car, he looked at me and said, “I am ready”

I was confused and said, “Okay.  I need to get home soon.  Let’s go.”

He said, “No.  I am ready to have sex…with you.”

I remember thinking how proud I was of him…that he not only knew he was ready, but he said it.  He told me.  I was impressed with his confidence.

I said, “Okay.  When do you want to do this?”  I felt like a teacher scheduling the final exam.

He said, “I will pick you up on Friday.  Be ready.”

Friday quickly arrived and I readied myself for our date.  I spent more time getting ready than I typically did for our sessions.  I wanted this to be special for him.  After school, I borrowed my mother’s car under the premise of getting hairspray at the store, but really, I bought my first pair of black thigh high stockings.  They were so opaque they were almost like tights and looked great under the black skirt I wore.  I felt confident and sexy.

He arrived a few minutes early and spend time chatting up my parents.  They liked his squeaky clean appearance and the fact that he came from a good family.  I rounded the corner from the hallway to the kitchen and our eyes met.  He was wearing a white Polo button down shirt with jeans.  He looked great.  He saw me and I could tell he was pleased by the way he looked me over.

We left my house around 7:30.  Instead of going to our favorite restaurant, he drove me to a place we’d never visited before.  It was close to his dad’s practice and had just been purchased by a developer (today there’s a car dealership there).  The road was clear, but completely deserted.  It was perfect.

Joe got out of the front seat without saying anything and walked around to open my door.  He took me by the hand and I assumed we would be moving to the backseat.  But first, he pinned me to the car and kissed me like he never had before.  I was shocked and excited.  He opened the door to the backseat and before I got in, he reached up my skirt and pulled my panties off…never uttering a word.  He then guided me into the car, shut the door and made his way to the other side.

He sat next to me and held my hand.  We rarely held hands, but it was nice. For a while, we just laughed and talked.  Then he looked at me, as he brushed my hair from my face and said, “I want you.”

Even though I was his teacher.  His mentor.  I felt a tinge of nervousness.  I was nervous about going all the way with him. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and laid it across the front seat.  He then carefully removed my sweater, and then my bra. We kissed and he pulled me on top of his lap.  He fondled my breasts and teased my slit.  I felt his hardness through his jeans and asked if I could taste him.  He opened his door and removed his pants outside, turning to face me in the car.

“Come here.  You know what I like.”

I sat on his side of the car and sucked his hard cock from the open door.  It was intensely hot.  He held my face and knelt down to kiss me.  Then he said, “Lie down and scoot back to your side of the car.  I need some room.”

I felt him mount me and for the first time, I felt him inside me.  He was rather well-endowed and filled me quite nicely.  Neither of us said anything.  We just looked into each other’s eyes and sank into our own rhythm.  He pulled my legs up and went deeper.  We never lost eye contact.  I knew when he was getting close to orgasm.  I could read it in his eyes.

He stopped and took me by the hand to pull me up.  He then got back into the car and sat down for me to straddle him.  I was still wearing my thigh highs and sat atop his lap, easing him into my sex.  He held my body tightly as I began to move up and down on his hard shaft.

He broke the silence, “How do I feel?  Do you like how I feel?”

I was eager to give him feedback, “You feel wonderful.  You fill me up and I don’t want to stop riding you.”

Hearing that turned him on as he grabbed my hips and began moving me to his rhythm.  Faster.  Harder. Deeper.  I came almost instantly and he was not far behind.  I will never forget the look in his eyes as he unloaded in me.  How intense. How amazed.  How grateful.  How sated.

Afterwards, I stayed on his lap and we held each other.  He nuzzled himself in my long hair and breathed me in.  We shared a certain closeness…an intimacy.  Something I’d yet to experience, and I later realized what a profound effect it had on me. Finally it was time for us to go.

On the way back, we stopped at a drive thru and ate.  We had been so eager that we forgot to eat.  We laughed and joked on the way home.  And as usual, he walked me to the door and gave me a goodnight kiss.  But there was something different in the way he walked…carried himself.  He was a man.  And at the time, he was my man.

Eventually our relationship fizzled and we went our separate ways by the Spring.  He graduated that year and moved cross country to attend college.  One day, I received a letter from him.

The first page of the letter talked a lot about his life in college, his new girlfriend, his family and then on the second page…written as a separate note, was a letter thanking me for taking the time to show him how to treat a woman.  He referenced everything he learned from me and how I made his first time so special.  He went on to say that if he lived to be 100, he would never forget that night in late February where he lost his virginity.  He would never forget how patient I was with him.  He said in the letter that I was more than his first time, I was his first love.  He closed the note in a way that was closure for both of us.

It will be 28 years this February and I’ve never looked him up on social media.  I have never attempted to find his number or contact him in any way.  I drove by his dad’s practice and noticed his sister had taken it over, since his father retired.  I don’t want to know Joe now.  Our time and our purpose was long ago.

I want to keep him alive in my memories, just as I remember him.

in the car

Afraid of the Dark?

Just the other day, I was chatting with a friend who admitted that she enjoys being spanked by her husband during sex.  She was giggling and embarrassed to share this “deep and dark secret” with anyone.  We are casual friends and she has no idea who I am under my good girl veneer, so I was amused by her reticence in telling me.  I thought to myself…if she only knew.  Then I began to think about how most of us hide our secret selves.  Even from our partners.

Reflecting on my friend’s revelation, I realized that what some may consider mere play..others may find kinky.  What some find kinky, others may find offensive, or even immoral.  So we keep these thoughts hidden.  Hidden from society.  Hidden from our friends and family.  And sometimes, hidden from our lovers.  But why wouldn’t we trust them with our fantasies?  Do we feel we will be judged?  Do we worry they will see us differently?  And then I took a long insightful look at myself.

After all…I’ve pretty much done my fair share of everything.  What’s left to do in my treasure-trove of dark escapades?  What desires haven’t I fulfilled?

Believe me, I have a few things on my murky bucket list.  I just need to find the voice to share these decadent desires of mine …with my One.

I have always had a rape fantasy, not for the brutality, but more for the vulnerability.  And I have acted on it a few times, but it usually morphed into more of a BDSM scene and not the spontaneous “attack” I had envisioned.  I want the suspense.  I don’t want to know when it’s going to happen, or how it’s going to happen.  I crave the fear.

This is what I’d love to experience.  Here is a little scene from one of those opaque corners of my twisted mind.

I arrived home later than usual.  The kids were staying with friends and I assumed he and I would order takeout for dinner.  The house was pitch-black and quiet.  His car was not in the driveway, as he was also working late.  I was excited to know I had a few minutes of solitude before our evening began. I walked towards the bathroom and began to run a bath.

Making my way into the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of Argentine Malbec and returned to the bathroom to check the water.  It was hot and inviting.  I took a large swallow of wine and began taking off my jewelry.  I saw something in the mirror behind me.  A shadowy figure approaching me.  My heart raced and I let out a gasp, but quickly realized it was him.
 
Funny thing…I didn’t hear him drive up.
 
I continued with my routine, taking off my jewelry, my blazer, my peep-toe pumps.  I was just unbuttoning my white silk blouse when I said, “Hey sweetie.  I’m going to take a bath.  Let me know what you want to order for dinner.”
 
He was silent.  I could feel him staring at me from behind.  He wasn’t wearing his shirt and tie from work.  He was wearing all black…black t-shirt, black pants. I realized that he must have arrived home before me and changed his clothes.  That’s strange…where did he park his car?  
 
I turned around to face him.  “Are you okay?  When did you get home?”
 
He suddenly put his hand over my mouth and forcefully walked me into our bedroom.
 
His whispered in my ear, “You’re asking for it, undressing in front of me like that.  I am going to fuck you so hard I will make you beg me to stop.”
 
I had never heard that tone in his voice.  I didn’t know where this was coming from…truly I was a bit scared.  He pushed me onto the bed face down. He hiked up my black skirt and spread my legs with his knee.  He reached up my thighs and yanked off my dainty pink lace panties.  Ripping them on one side.
“Be still” he growled as he plunged three fingers into my wet hole. He finger fucked me with one hand as he pulled his pants down with the other.  Before I knew it he was deep in my sex, fucking me from behind as he pinned my body to the bed.
 
“You’re so fucking wet.  You like this, don’t you?”  He penetrated me so deeply, I could feel a tinge of pain every time he thrust himself inside. He filled me…every inch of me.   I was writhing in pleasure, close to an orgasm. Excited by how it was all happening.
 
Then he backed away, pulled me to my feet  to face him and pushed me down on my knees and rammed himself down my throat.  I could taste my juices on his glistening cock as he pushed my head down on his shaft, edging as far down my throat as I could take.  I couldn’t even gag.  I couldn’t breathe.  He knows I love breath play and he held my head on his cock until my eyes began to water.  He would release and give me a respite to catch my breath before he did it again.  And again.  He continued until my face was tear-stained black from my mascara.  He pulled me up by my hair and told me to get on the bed on my back.
 
He positioned me with my head slightly off of the bed as he stood over me and slowly eased his cock down my throat again.
 
“I want to see how far you can take this” he sneered.  He slowly fucked my mouth and throat as he rubbed my clit relentlessly.  I was so out of control.  So vulnerable and exposed.   There was nothing I could do, but lay there and take it.   I could barely breathe…I was barely able get enough air in my throat with his large cock taking up all the space.  I moaned as I came repeatedly, squirting and gushing everywhere.
 
“Get on all fours, ass up” he quipped.  I quickly complied and he spread me as wide as my legs could go.  My legs were shaky from being stretched so far.  It made me feel helpless and immobile.  He was behind me, grabbing my ass he plowed himself inside my ravaged cunt.  Deeper and deeper.  My body shuddering with each movement.  I couldn’t tell where one orgasm stopped and the other began.  I just kept having them, screaming in ecstasy as he kept fucking me.
Then he stopped.  To get my attention, he pulled my head back by my long dark mane.  Then I felt him enter my ass.  His cock was so slick from my wetness that he slid in with one movement. He let out a deep, baritone snarl as he fucked my tight hole.  I knew he was close to the edge.  He was so hard.  He slowed his pace with deeper, purposeful thrusts. Just before he came, he let out a primal growl that bellowed off the walls.
 
Afterwards we were both silent.  He moved up to the head of the bed and pulled me into his chest.  He tilted my chin to face him as he softly kissed my lips.
 
“How was that for you?  Did I fulfill your rape fantasy?”
 
My body was still trembling from the overall experience…from the intense orgasms he gave me.  I managed to find my words as I whimpered, “Yes, Sir.  You did.”
 
He scooped me up his arms and stroked my hair as we drifted off to sleep.
taken
 

The Weirdos,The Creeps and The Rejects

Summer 1994

When you work as an escort, you meet all different types of men.  If you think about it…what type of man pays to have sex with someone?  In my experience, I found that they fell into many different categories.

The Travelers…these men logged more miles in the sky than a Blue Angel.  They were away from the drudgery of their day-to-day lives for extended periods of time.  Travelers commonly worked in sales or management.  They were usually bold in their requests and most of them tipped well, as their expense accounts were as big as their egos.  A typical evening would begin with conversation and would quickly morph into…”I want you on your knees, sucking my cock.  Look me in the eyes while you do it.”  I like a person who knows what they want…

The Nervous Novices…it took every ounce of nerve for them to make the call to the agency.  They don’t really know how to express what they want.  Most of these men are wounded by society, past relationships or their own pitiful opinion of themselves.  For me, these were some of the most challenging clients to predict.  I recall having dinner with a very shy young man who just wanted someone to talk to.  He told me about his life with abusive parents.  He needed someone to listen.  Another client only wanted me to hold him…him fully dressed, me completely nude.  Another one didn’t know how to ask for anything other than missionary style sex.  So I finally asked him…”is this what you really want, or is there something you’re not sharing with me.  Tell me how you want to fuck me and we can make that happen, this is your hour.”  He was a nervous wreck, but turns out…all he wanted was for me to straddle his face while he licked me.  And if memory serves…for a nervous novice…he was pretty damned good at eating pussy.

The Hedonists….I only had a few of these creatures.  But it was party all the time for this group.  Mostly middle-aged and wealthy, these gentlemen liked having instant gratification.  For me, these were usually house (mansion) calls. They wanted to display their opulent lifestyle and decadent ways to those of us hired to serve them.  They wanted to have whatever they desired…they wanted it brought to them, immediately….they wanted lots of it….and afterwards, it was time for the next plaything to arrive.  I recall making a visit to one of these hedonists, seeing 3 other working girls leave with wads of cash in hand…as I was arriving.  And as I left, another escort drove up.  There was nothing remarkable or memorable about the visits…other than their impressive Rolex collection, or the imported marble in the bathroom.  But the return on investment for the minimum time and effort…was always spot on.

The Weirdos, The Creeps and The Rejects…These are the ones I hoped I’d forget.  These are the unfortunates out there who HAVE to pay for sex.  There is no other option.  The weirdos usually request off-the-wall things.  I had one who wanted me to cry when he fucked me.  I couldn’t do it, so I left and had another girl take my place.  She would do anything.  Another fellow asked me to use pliers to torture his nipples as I sat naked on his chest.  It was a stretch for a young 21 year old, but I managed to do it.  He thanked me a million times and tipped me for the experience. (Note, when he called the agency another time and asked for me to come back, I made sure I was “booked” and couldn’t make it).  The Rejects are the assholes of this category.  They are angry at the world.  Angry at women.  Angry at anyone who has ever done them wrong.  They want to take it out on whomever is in front of them.  The sex bordered on violent and they always tried to argue about money.  One even tried to argue about wearing a condom. I won that battle, but he was a real jerk.  Before leaving his hotel room, I dipped his electric razor in the toilet where I’d just peed and put it back on the sink.  I hope it jolted his sorry ass when he plugged it in.

So as much I as enjoyed my time as an escort, there were a handful of clients that were real assholes.  I quickly learned to spot them ahead of time and could usually manufacture a reason to leave and ask for a replacement. Because readers, I may have been working as a call girl, but I was no one’s whore and I refused to be treated as one. Best to just get out of that situation and try my hand (mouth, body) at (on) something (someone) else.

5.0.2

Photo from the movie Belle Du Jour, 1968