sucking cock

Is It a Crime?

The year was 1986.

I was quite the social butterfly that summer.  I’d made many new friends in my neighborhood and we were always sleeping over at each other’s houses.  I had finally started to like the area, when I found out we were moving from upstate South Carolina, back to Georgia.  Needless to say, I was not happy.  But there was nothing I could do about it, so I partied like it was 1999, in 1986.  I knew my time was limited, so I threw caution to the wind (not that I ever held it in my hand) and made the most of every single minute there!

As I’ve shared, there were many young men in my “harem” at that time…the good boys, the bad boys…the preppy boys….the ones too old for me…the pretty boys, and of course, the preacher’s son.  I felt it was high time for me to try my hand at the dangerous boys.  I knew exactly who I wanted, but had no clue as to how or when I could make it happen.

His name was Anastasios.  His parents owned the only Greek restaurant in town.  Tasso (as he preferred to be called) was about 19 years old and worked in his parent’s restaurant, among other things.  I say this because he owned a brand new top of the line black Mercedes Benz.  You don’t make that kind of cash, working as a waiter. His parents drove a beat up station wagon.  No, there was more to his story that meets the eye.  I suspected he was selling drugs, but could never confirm it.  The cloud of suspicion was just enough to wet my whistle and I wanted this Hellenic bad boy.

I talked one of my new friends into having lunch with me at the restaurant. She hated Greek food, but tagged along to help me with my plan.  He was not our waiter, but I got his attention with one of my sultry looks from across the room.  He grinned and took our table from his sister who was waiting on us.  We’d not placed our food order when he sauntered over to our table.

“Hello, I’m Tasso.  What you two girls hungry for?” he said, with a mischievous grin.

That was all the encouragement I needed…I replied with, “I am hungry.  Very hungry.  Just don’t know what it is that I have a taste for” and I licked my lips.

He retorted, “Oh, I think you do.  I think you know exactly what you want” and he stared me in the eyes.  It scared the shit out of me.  I was accustomed to being the aggressor.  Maybe I was biting off more that I could swallow, before I tasted my first bite.

I stuttered my order of souvlaki and spanakopita and shyly looked down at my hands.  His directness was sexy and scary at the same time.  He knelt down to meet my gaze.  “What else can I get for you, Tessa?”

He knows my name?  How does he know my name?  I was flustered, but regained my composure, as I perceived his knowledge of who I was…as a victory in this tête–à–tête we were having.

I looked into his obsidian eyes, smiled and said, “I think you know, Tasso”

My poor friend.  She was just there as my wingman, and she was in the middle of all of this. But she took it like a champ and choked down her feta like a good friend would.  The food came out and as I was eating, Tasso handed me a note.

“I want to see you.  Meet me tonight.  I can have my driver pick you up.”

His driver?  WHAT?  Why would a 19 year old waiter have a driver for his brand new Mercedes?  The intrigue was building with each exchange.

I wrote him back with two words, “When? Where?”

He knelt down beside me and said, “We will come get you at your house.  Where do you live?”

I giggled.  Like my parents were going to let their young teenage daughter ride off into the sunset with Zorba and his driver.  “I will have to meet you somewhere besides my house.  Strict parents, you know.”

He nodded.  And then he whispered in my ear.  “You probably need to let loose, if you’ve got strict parents, huh?  I know just what you need.”

We made arrangements for him to pick me up at 9:30 at my friend Erica’s house.  She lived several houses down and I wouldn’t be seen by my parents, or curious neighbors.  I made up a story about a slumber party, packed a bag and headed to Erica’s.  I called my mom when I got there and told her I would walk home in the morning.  She didn’t suspect a thing.  Erica’s parents were potheads, so they had no clue who was at the house, who left the house or who came into the house.  They were usually stoned.

9:30 arrived and I saw the headlights pull into the driveway.  An older Greek man stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the backseat, as if he were a limo driver.  He said nothing, just nodded to me.  I got in the back, sitting next to Tasso, who looked delicious.  He had on a white jacket, linen pants and a pale blue shirt.  Very Miami Vice (which was popular).Very sexy.

He held my hand as the driver took us to the destination.  I had no idea where we were going and that was exciting.  The whole thing was exciting.  Tasso was quiet, but said something in Greek to the driver.  He put on some music and Tasso leaned over and smelled my hair. “You smell good”

“Thank you, so do you.” I said

“What is Tasso going to do with such a sweet young lady?” he said to himself.  His thick Greek accent was oozing with sex and I was ready to see what happened next.  The driver turned onto a road with a boat dock.  Parked the car in a secluded area and stepped out, facing away from the car.

“It’s just us now.  Tell me what you’re hungry for.”and he leaned over and kissed me.  “Tasso wants you.  He wants to show how hungry he is for you.”

Af first, I was put off with how he referred to himself in third person, but it was his language barrier.  It made him different.  Added to the intrigue.

He kissed me like no one else has, before or after him. He was so passionate, so in the moment.  Before I knew it my clothes were in the front seat and he was still fully dressed. He picked up my hips, pulled my thighs apart, tasting me at first, then devouring me.  He was relentless in his quest. He held me there for such a long time, that I was drenched in sweat and delirious from the pleasure.  I was experienced in sex, but had never had ANYONE pleasure me like that. He would come up from his meal to ask me if I wanted more.  I didn’t know how to respond.  I wanted more, but could I take more?

I managed to mutter, “Yes” and he kept on.  He treated me as if I were a 7 course meal.  I was thirsty and spent and we’d not even had sex yet.  He tapped on the steamed window..His driver came to the door and Tasso said something in Greek.  The driver opened the trunk and handed Tasso a glass bottle.

“This is a Greek drink.  You will like it.” he handed it to me after he sipped it.  It tasted like licorice and I did like it.  In fact, I drank too much too fast and felt like I was floating. I faded in and out for a few minutes as Tasso carried on with his dinner.  I came back down to reality and noticed that he was completely undressed.  He took my hand and guided it to his hard cock, showing me how he wanted me to stroke it.  I did exactly as he showed me and then I took him in my mouth.  I was so uninhibited by the drink (I later found out was called ouzo)  that I took him deep.  I returned the favor in a big way.

He was so aroused by my performance that he could no longer hold back.  He turned me to face the side window and fucked me like a god. He flipped me on my back and devoured me again before he continued fucking me some more.  All the while, he said dirty things.  He described how I felt to him, growling as he plunged into my sex.  He talked about how I tasted and how he wanted more of me..how he wanted me to pass out from the pleasure he gave me….how he wanted my lips on his wet cock before he finished fucking me…I had never been talked to like that before and I loved it.  He was indeed that bad boy I craved.

We stayed in that spot for another couple of hours, while his driver waited outside. He had retrieved a chair from the trunk and sat a few feet from the front of the car.  His presence no longer bothered me.  We had the windows down and I didn’t care if anyone heard me moan or scream or beg for more.  It was too good for me to stop.

That was the only time we were together.  After our marathon of an evening, his driver took us to the restaurant.  It was dark and empty.  Tasso fixed us a snack and playing over the speakers was “An Evening with Sade”.  The radio station would play an entire album late at night and call it “An Evening with….” That was the first time I heard, “Is it Crime” and I smiled to myself…knowing what we’d done bordered on criminal…knowing whatever he did to afford his luxury lifestyle was criminal…knowing that my web of lies to get out for the evening was criminal.  I was such a bad girl.

I got back to Erica’s house around 4:00 am.  I was exhausted and sore.  The next day I awoke to find bite marks all over my body.  We had feasted on each other and left evidence to prove it. I didn’t care.  I would find a way to cover my tracks.  I always did.

A few years ago, while working for hospice, I had the opportunity to pass through my old town in the upstate. His family’s Greek restaurant had been replaced by some franchised chain.  There was no trace of Tasso.  And even though it was one night, I will never forget my evening with him.

tasso

 (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

The Man

 

wine

Summer 2014.

Earlier that year, I left the loveless relationship I’d been in for 10 years and moved on.  I loved the single life.  I enjoyed not having to “answer” to anyone about my whereabouts.  I liked having a bowl of cereal for dinner.  I liked my freedom, but I still craved connection.  I wanted a casual partnership, nothing too serious.  I wanted hot, unbelievable sex, when I wanted it.  So I joined a couple of online dating sites and suddenly found my dance card full.  It was quite a ride.

There was the ultra religious man who should have never ventured off of Christian Mingle to the other racier dating sites.  I was too fast for his blood, but we had a good time.  There was a psychiatrist with the social skills of an awkward tween.  There was a retired philosophy professor, old enough to be my grandfather, that made me cum more than anyone had in months.  There were a host of others.  Some of them noteworthy..many of them not.

And then there was Viktor.

He was fifteen years my junior.  Very tall.  Very handsome.  And very worldly despite his age.  He was of Serbian descent.  His family moved to the US prior to the turmoil of the nineties.  He was raised here, but had this European swagger.  He carried himself in a way that demanded respect and attention, yet he was kind and considerate.  He could blend in with a well-traveled CEO or dish with a seven year old about Star Wars.  His range was impressive.  I was fascinated with him.  He had more depth than the average fish in the sea.  He was different.

After talking for a couple of days, I invited him over.  I had a child-free weekend and I was curious to meet him in person.  Being the gentleman he was, he brought over a bottle of chilled Etienne Sauzet Chardonnay that was exquisite.  A man who brings that kind of wine on the inaugural meeting had some serious game and I found myself a bit nervous.  I noticed his impressive watch, as he opened the bottle in my kitchen.  To make small talk, I asked him about it.

“That’s a lovely watch you’re wearing.  I’ve not seen that style before.”  I nervously muttered.

He grinned as he poured me a glass.  “It’s not very common, especially around here.  It’s an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Offshore.  I just got it as a gift to myself for getting into Harvard Business School.”

At this point, I thought…okay.  Here comes the bullshit.  He’s a con artist.  I mean who rattles off a five word brand for a wristwatch.  And who in the hell casually comments about getting into Harvard Business School.

But this was no bullshit. He was the real deal.

As we made our way to my leather sofa, he told me about his educational quest for an Ivy League graduate degree.  He had been accepted at several of the major business schools in the country (Dartmouth, Columbia, Yale…and yes, Harvard) but couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.  I’ll be crude, but the thought of all that made me wet.  Such intelligence.  Such drive and ambition.  He had old world class and I could barely wait to get this guy in bed. He was so refined.  So successful, that I knew he would know how to fuck me silly.

But that night, we simply talked.  We shared stories, experiences and a couple of bottles of wine (the bottles I had on hand were far less than impressive compared to what he brought) and we parted ways in the wee hours of the morning….without me even parting my legs.  DAMMIT.

I later realized that he was testing me.  He was asserting control.  He was so disciplined that he did not allow our evening to go beyond a hot passionate kiss.  He had me where he wanted me and that was…me wanting him badly.  I could barely plan my Fourth of July celebration, I was so distracted with this enigma of a man.  Again…a man fifteen years younger than me.

Early in the afternoon of July 4th, we began exchanging sexual banter via text.  He was always classy, but had a way of writing that only made me want to fuck him more.  I was a dripping mess by the time the evening rolled in.  He sent a text around 10:30 pm.

“What are your wearing?”

I was clever in my response…”Heels and a smile. You should come see for yourself.”

His response…”Oh I plan to. I will arrive in 30 minutes.  I expect to find you in nothing but heels.  And I will ensure you keep that smile.”

My switch was turned on.  I couldn’t wait for him to get there.  But was I really brazen enough to answer the door in nothing but heels?  I toiled over it for about 15 minutes when I realized that I was running out of time.  So I found a lovely, asset-flattering, low cut black dress, donned my highest “fuck me” stilettos and carefully applied my slut red lipstick (Ladies, you know the color…not berry red, not wear-to-the-office red….SLUT red.  There is a difference.)

He arrived precisely 30 minutes from the time of our last text.  I peered out the window as he drove up in his shiny new BMW.  I hadn’t noticed it from before, but even the car was sexy.  He swaggered out of the front seat and tapped on the door.  My God he looked amazing.  Crisply pressed shirt.  Cuffed sleeves.  Khakis that displayed his taut ass.

I opened it slowly to add to the anticipation.  He looked so hot.  His thick dark hair was slightly disheveled, but he was immaculate.  He smelled divine.  Our eyes met as he walked in and closed it behind him, taking me in his arms, kissing me right there…pinning me to my front door.

“I thought I said, heels only.” he growled between his teeth.  “But this dress suits you”  He took my hand and led me to the couch.  Where he proceeded to open the champagne he brought.  He filled our glasses as he proposed a toast.

“To fireworks.”  And he grinned his mischievous smile.

“To fireworks.” I nodded.  And I drank the entire glass, as if it were a ‘last call’ shot back in my college days.

He pulled me over onto his lap.  I straddled him on the couch  He kissed me passionately, but with intention.  Everything he did was with purpose.  He knew just how to drive a woman mad with his lips.  He masterfully removed my bra, without taking off my dress.  He caressed my full breasts through the dress and then artfully pulled them out of my low-cut neckline.  I unbuttoned his shirt.  He embraced me and lifted my dress up as he grabbed my bare ass.  (I decided not to wear panties).  He squeezed my ass and his fingers found their way to my sweet spot.  I felt like I’d cum immediately.  I was so turned on my him.

He plunged his fingers deep into my sex, demanding an orgasm.  There was no turning back.  I came furiously for him as he watched the results of his handiwork.  I slid down from his lap and took his hard cock in my mouth.  I took him deep.  I loved sucking him, but I longed to feel him inside me.

Once again he took me by the hand and led me to a large armless accent chair. He sat down and motioned for me to ride his ample cock.  I began to straddle him when he turned me around to face away from him.  I positioned myself on him as he found my dripping wet hole.  He slid his hard shaft inside my wetness and pulled my hips down firmly.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“It feels so fucking good.  I want more.” My God….I sounded so needy.

And without words or hesitation, he guided my rhythm.  He fucked me hard.  I came several times before I felt him become more rigid as he poured his seed inside me.  I loved how it felt as he filled me with his hot load.

We both sat there speechless for a bit, when he reached over and poured us some more champagne.  We finally found our voices as we reflected on our amazing scene.  We talked for a long time.  And while we were siting on the floor, he summoned me to him.  I could tell he was ready to fuck again.  He bent me down, face first to the floor as he took me again.  And again.

That was almost two years ago, and I can still remember the touch of his hand…the smell of his skin.  How he felt inside me. Viktor connects with me on a level that few have, or ever will.  We just get each other.  Even though we haven’t been together for quite a while, we stay in close touch.  There is a place that exists between us where we can be our real and flawed selves (although he has no flaws…in my eyes, he is perfect).  We have such depth together.  I get him.  He gets me.  And we are the best of friends…from  a distance.  He lives two states away and that distance is healthy.  I am in a relationship where I am very happy.  Viktor is unattached and adventurous and still has his wild oats to sow…working as a VP for a European bank, showing up in his tailored Anderson-Sheppard suits everyday.  He is living the dream.  I do hope he finds a woman worthy of him.

As for me, I have the memories of our time together that summer.  So I will close this jaunt down memory lane with the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me…courtesy of Viktor.

hair

That is some serious swagger.  I even published his words on Pinterest…

 

 

 

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

 

The Good Girl’s Guide to Cock Worship

I don’t like the term “blow job”
It insinuates a “task” to be performed…a “job” one must do. It feels obligatory.
I prefer the concept of cock worship.

What is the difference, you ask?
One is a task. The other is a privilege.

When I worship my One, I think of it as a spiritual offering. I am giving him an immense indulgence. Letting him know how much I love and adore him with every lick. Every stroke. Every suck. Every nuance of my mouth. Seeing my mouth as a portal to his pleasure.

I usually begin by massaging his scrotal area. Sometimes rubbing a small part of his ass. I move my hand up to the shaft of his cock and stroke it softly and slowly. I then lick the tip of his head, teasing him before I take him all into my mouth. I do this in slow motion, savoring each and every inch of him as I slowly move my mouth up and down.
I take my time. I want to give him an unforgettable experience every time his smooth head parts my lips.

There is no agenda.  There is no timeline.

I lose myself in the adoration, the ritual.  I suck, lick, massage, stroke and consume him…for long sessions at a time.  I taste his balls, play with his ass and suck on his nipples.  I do anything to show him my reverence.

The focus is not solely on his orgasm.  Trust me, we get there soon enough.  I am centered on his journey to bliss, not the destination itself.  There have been times that I have worshiped his cock for almost an hour (with breaks of course) pouring out devotion comparable to that of a Buddhist monk.

And my reward is sweet.  And salty…

For the bad girls who want to be the best at being bad…here are a few tips to achieve Nirvana as you embark on your pilgrimage to cock worship.

  1. Know what he likes.  My One prefers a soft suck, not hard suction.  I have the tendency (when aroused) to give a Hoover vacuum a run for its money, but I have to remember how he likes it.
  2. Time is on your side.  If you are committing to a session of cock worship, then go all-in, without agenda.  Without a timeline in your head about giving head.  Just lose your head and do what you do.
  3. Make it a joint effort.  Please don’t forget about the boys.  Hold them.  Caress them.  Lick them.  Stroke them.  Show them some love.  You’ll be glad you did.  Use your hands and your mouth in tandem.  Pure ecstasy.
  4. Tease and play.  Have fun with it.  I sometimes play coy and ask if he likes it…do you want me to stop…should I keep going?  If I feel him coming close to orgasm, I may back off and prolong the experience.  Make it fun.  Keep it light.
  5. To swim you have to swallow.”  Marilyn Manson got it right with these infamous lyrics.  You have revered.  You have worshiped.  Now it’s time to accept your communion.  Let it flow down the back of your throat like holy wine, knowing you have paid homage to this demigod.

I must say, all of this writing makes me want to praise his member…

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(Photo credit, Tumblr)