Unwrapping Wet Amber

by Kamilla Murphy

  “You want to undress me?” I asked.

  He did. His answer was to practically rip my shirt off. I helped him with the rest before unleashing him from his boxers. This guy was small. He was probably as hard as he was going to get and it still barely made four or five inches. The dude couldn’t hide his over-excitement, breathing hard with his paws all over me. I sucked him, and he did get a bit stiffer; still a thin four inches or so.

  “Which way?” I asked as I helped him with the condom.

  “W…What way do you like it?”

  In my entire life, nobody, not even my husband, ever asked me what position I liked. Wow, this was a moment to savor, even if I was a paid fuck. “I like it doggy, but don’t go too fast, big guy. I don’t want to be sore.” Jesus, I couldn’t believe I spouted that bullshit line.

  It surely got him going. The guy was banging into my backside from behind so hard I was barely able to stay on my knees. I was beginning to feel the tension build, more from his balls whacking my clit than from his cock doing anything inside of me. I thought that maybe I could cadge an orgasm from this, but that thought ended when he groaned loudly that he was cumming. Lo and behold, I ended up sore after all when he decided to slap my ass at the moment of ejaculation.

  Hard.

  “Damn, did you have to do that?” I asked angrily, thoughts of ‘customer service’ out the window.

  “You’re damn right I did. That’s what you do to a whore. You’re a whore, right?”

  “Fuck you,” I hollered.

  “No. Fuck you,” he said, and grabbed me as I tried to slink away from him and get off the bed.

  I couldn’t believe it; even though I knew he’d cum and I saw his spunk at the head of the condom, he was still hard. I fought him yet he pinned me on my back and fucked me again. Not fucked—raped this time. You may think me stupid, but at that moment I let off from fighting him and figured to more or less allow the paying customer to get his rocks off one more time. Of course, that was before he slapped me again. Then, while in the throes of pre-orgasmic happiness he let his guard down. I pushed him away just enough to get my knee right where his balls would be in another second. I was gratified the asshole screamed far louder than anything I could have faked.

  Before he could go on the offensive I kicked him harder and yelled, “Get the fuck out of here, you asshole. You paid me for sex… not for this other shit.”

  If he had been a larger man I would have been scared shitless. Oh yes, I was scared, but at least I still had my shit, which I gave to him as he thought better of any further machismo and hurriedly dressed and headed for the door.

  “You’ll pay, you bitch,” he cursed on his way out.

  “No, YOU paid, you fuckin’ idiot,” I answered, still pumped up with adrenaline. Well, it was a stupid thing to say, and when I realized that (and the fact he was gone and I was still okay) I had a good therapeutic laugh.

  I counted my blessings—and my money—and debated whether I had time (or the stamina, or the courage…) for another session. I decided I did, and turned on my cell phone and ran through the messages. I started calling and got an affirmative response on the third call. Another deep, masculine voice, saying his name was Larry. We made our deal, and then I showered to get ready for him. He had asked if I could answer the door in something sexy, like a negligee, and I agreed (I said I was GFE, right?). After showering I fixed my hair, put on a little make-up, dabbed on some scent, and slipped into the lacy black number with the matching thong I’d added to my “whore bag” (as I now thought of it).

  I answered the door nervously, but was delighted at the way he looked at me as I let him in. He was a big man, maybe 6-foot-one or -two, good looking and about my age; dressed well in a sport coat, as if he just came from work. We talked for a few minutes. He was the perfect gentleman, which eased the fears still lingering from my encounter with Dave. I didn’t smell cop either. With cash safely tucked away, the new customer ‘got comfortable’ and I steeled my nerves.

  “You’re a sweet looking babe,” he said, up on one elbow, sprawled across the bed.

  “You’re not a bad looking dude either,” I said, looking at his nice body and his even nicer dick.

  “I hope you really do GFE, because that’s exactly what I need today”

  I lay down next to him, saying, “You had a bad day at work today? You want me to help you forget? Maybe pretend I’m your sweetheart?”

  “Oh yes, baby. Can I have a kiss?”

  “Of course Larry,” I said seductively, and moved my lips toward his.

  Alright, the dude was a good kisser, so I didn’t mind swapping spit and dueling tongues with him. I must be giving him what he wanted because his cock was swelling nicely and rubbing against me as we kissed. He gently rolled me onto my back and hovered above me, still kissing me. I didn’t know how long we kissed like that, but eventually he pulled his lips away.

  “Ummmmm,” he groaned. “This is going to be great, I can tell.”

  “Would you like a massage?” I went and got some massage oil and began rubbing him all over.

  I saved his cock for last. By the time I got there he was harder than the proverbial rock. I figured nine inches of thick, veined manhood. Yes, this could be great, I thought. I went down on him, toying with his cockhead for a while before attempting to take more. Like I said, I’m not a deep-throater, but I tried. He loved it—crooning “Yes baby, yes.”

  Instead of asking him how he wanted it, I figured what was good for the goose was good for the gander. I slipped off the thong, slid on the condom and climbed aboard. My pussy was wet, I was ready, and I impaled myself on his flesh-sword. As I began bouncing, I pulled the negligee off over my head and tossed it aside, never missing a beat. His ear-to-ear grin said he liked that move.

  I bounced and swayed to my own soundtrack. “Oh yeah… oh Larry… your cock is so big, it’s filling me, oh Larry… oh…”

  “God, you’re fuckin’ hot,” he said with a flourish. Instead of mashing my tits like some men would in this position, he was nicely tweaking my nipples. They—and I—responded in kind.

  I threw my head back and rode him hard. Without thinking about it I’d established my own rhythm, first sliding up and down a few times on his pole before rolling my hips in a wide circle, his cock my marvelous pivot point. I bounced and thrashed and rocked like that until I sensed we were both approaching nirvana.

  My orgasm hit me in mid-bounce. “Yes…oh yes,” I moaned.

  Another “Yes…baby” escaped his lips in a groan. “…Cumming” was another groan, right on its heels.

  I couldn’t believe it had happened; I came! And before him! Hot damn! Climbing off, I reached down and swiped my pussy with my fingers. They came away wetter than I ever could have imagined. “My, oh my, seems I had some fun there too, Larry.”

  “I guess you did, baby. Didn’t have to fake it,” he said as he pulled me next to him on the bed. “You’re one, hot piece of ass, you know?”

  “I know.” I smiled coyly, and asked him, “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “I think you drained every last drop out of me, baby,” he said. “You’re GFE for real, better than any girlfriend I ever had, that’s for sure.”

  I batted my eyelashes, “Thank you very much, sir.”

  “You been doing this long?”

  “Not long at all,” I answered. He’d never know the true meaning of ‘not long’ in my case.

  “Like I said, doll, you’re not only gorgeous but very good and hot. Whew, I haven’t been fucked like that in a long time, and you didn’t fake it, did you?”

  I smiled, “What do you think?”

  We lay there, laughing and talking for quite a while. Though I was mum about me, he told me a bit about himself. He said he was divorced and didn’t feel much like the dating game; therefore he took care of his needs with call girls. I didn’t mind being one of his release mechanisms, I thought as I let him kiss me one last time. When he was dressed and re
ady to leave, he told me he would definitely move me to the top of his “favorites list” and he would love to see me again. Almost like a damn doctor, I gave him my availability days and times. He had my number.

  I showered before heading home. Looking at my take for the day, I was pretty proud of it—nice cold hard cash and a bonus orgasm—plus when was the last time my husband called me gorgeous? Great day indeed!

  The end of the day presented me with a little poetic justice. In bed, Danny announced he was horny. I told him I was tired and only wanted to sleep. He went to bed frustrated.

  Even without an updated Backpage posting, I was still getting calls. I was letting them go to voicemail, so by the next day that I was free (and Lana’s condo free as well) I went through my messages and picked the best sounding ones, mostly the ones who sounded mature and didn’t ask stupid, lewd questions about my services. I began making return calls and setting up appointments.

  I’d decided to play the MILF angle, especially with my clothing choices. In my mind I wasn’t old enough to be a MILF, and I wasn’t even a mother yet, but why not play on men’s fantasies? For my first customer I wore a silky sun dress with nothing underneath. The dress just hinted at my chest assets, though the fabric’s feel stiffened my nipples noticeably. I considered that at-the-door advertising!

  My first appointment was a disappointment. He said his name was Chuck, and his diet must consist of nothing but; he was almost as round as he was tall. His money was good though. He did me from behind (no way was THIS guy going to be on top) and it didn’t take him long to cum. For the remainder of his time I played with his limp dick before ushering him out. No orgasm for me.

  By the time my next appointment was at the door, I was ready for anything. The silk sundress clung to my freshly-showered body, more revealing than ever. When I opened the door and invited him in, some internal alarm sounded. The guy looked too composed, too aloof, and he certainly wasn’t ogling me in this dress like Chuck had, and most guys would. I smelled cop. He told me how nice I looked, but without passion. How would I handle this? First thing was to distance myself from the money, just in case.

  “Hi, how are you? Come on in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like something, a Pepsi maybe?” I hoped I didn’t sound like I was babbling.

  He was the quintessential tall, dark and handsome man. The guy obviously worked out, as evidenced by his strong upper body and his nicely tapered waistline that couldn’t be hidden under his sport coat. When he made the move to hand me the money envelope, I vaguely gestured toward the counter. He got the hint and put it there. While making small talk, I ‘accidently’ bumped the envelope, sending it to the floor. His no-nonsense stare, his lack of any unease, and his evasion of my chit-chat questions confirmed it for me. Had I said or done anything so far that would be patently illegal?

  “So, what are you going to do for me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, after all this is your date,” I said, sounding obtuse enough to be okay. “You want to get comfortable?” I asked, pointing to the sofa instead of the bedroom. When he hesitated, I added, “Oh, you dropped your envelope.”

  “Not mine, it’s for your services.”

  “And what services might we be talking about?” He stood staring at me. I stood staring at him. It was a standoff.

  “Okay, lady, let’s cut the bullshit.” He pulled his badge from a pants pocket and showed it to me. “We both know what this is about.”

  I figured I’d caught on in time and hadn’t admitted to anything illegal, and still had my clothes on. “What IS this all about, Officer? It’s only a date—where are you taking me to dinner?” I said. Now that was pure bullshit—I gave him my million dollar smile.

  “Look, we know you’re engaging in prostitution here,” he said.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” Why stand here and deny it?

  “No… you’re smarter than the usual assortment of hookers. Or maybe just lucky you played it right. Whatever, I’m only going to warn you this time. Personally, I don’t know why a good looking, middle class lady such as yourself is doing this. Can’t be simply for the money,” he said, slightly shaking his head. He finally bent down and picked up the envelope that had remained on the floor as if it were poison. To me, maybe it was.

  “I’m not sure I understand all of what you’re talking about, but I’ll be good.”

  His expression softened a bit, as he said, “I can see you’re no dummy. I know to some gals this seems like a great way to make extra money, but I’ve seen things that would scare anyone. Some real nasty things. I don’t want to see a nice lady like you get hurt.”

  “You didn’t simply call me on a whim, did you? Why exactly are you here, some sort of a crackdown?”

  He chuckled. “Ma’am, may I sit down? Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble today.” He sat on the sofa and after some hesitation I sat next to him. “I’ll tell you the truth,” he said, “and maybe you’ll get a kick out of it as well as give you some, ah, insight into consequences of this, ah, business you’ve entered.” He looked at me as if checking to see that I was listening. “I believe you had a client who, let’s say, was less than thrilled with your service. I’ll tell you—the fool actually came to the precinct house and filed a complaint against you.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  He laughed but he wasn’t kidding. “Yeah, the idiot didn’t even consider we could arrest HIM.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. Look, I’m not going to hassle you. I’ve got too many real crimes to worry about without busting gals like you. You’re a fantastic looking woman—too good looking and smart to be doing this kind of work. My advice is to stop before another of my fellow detectives takes it more seriously than following up on a bogus complaint.”

  “Thanks, Officer… I mean Detective. Thanks for being so understanding… and thanks for what you said about me.”

  “Oh I meant it, honey.” He started for the door, then stopped and asked, “Are you married?”

  “Yes I am. Why?”

  “You know, I was thinking maybe we could date the old fashioned way… like without money changing hands that is. But, you’re married so that’s out of the question.”

  “Are you married?” I asked.

  “No I’m not. Long divorced, like I guess all cops end up sooner or later. I wouldn’t even have thought about it if I was, you know. Never mind.”

  I walked closer to him and said, “I’d love an old-fashioned date. How about giving me a business card of yours?” He pulled one from his wallet and handed it to me with a slightly puzzled expression. After looking at his name and memorizing his number, I wrote my cell number on the back and gave it back to him. “I know you already have my number, Francis, but here it is again anyway.”

  He smiled, “Call me Flip…that’s what my friends call me.”

  “Am I your friend already?”

  He chuckled, “Best friend you’re going to have if you stay in prostitution, that’s for sure. Stay safe, okay.”

  “I will, thank you,” I said as I showed him out.

  Would he wait to see if I set up another trick? God damn it—trick! I actually thought that word! He may stick around, so I called it a day and thanked my lucky stars I got Detective Flip at the condo’s doorstep instead of some hard-ass. I got out of the dress I was wearing and redressed into jeans and t-shirt, with bra and panties on underneath. On the way home I wondered how Danny would react if I wore in front of him what I had when answering the door at Lana’s condo. Would he even care?

  That night, the opposite of the previous ‘work’ day happened. Instead of being sexed-out or too tired, my libido had been kicked up a notch. I resisted a pre-bed masturbation, but then my husband resisted me. I went to sleep frustrated and horny as usual. Later I dreamt of a stranger seducing me to the point my orgasm wouldn’t stop, a flood pouring from my convulsing vagina. I woke up and jumped Danny.

  “Wha…What got into you?”
he stammered as I furiously sucked his cock to hardness.

  “You’re getting into me,” I cried, jumping onto him and riding his cock like there was no tomorrow. I was really rocking and rolling when I remembered doing the same with Larry and how I’d cum so easily.

  “OH, GODDDDDDDDD, OHHHHHHH,” I shrieked. Now that was a great orgasm, and I was fantasizing about being with a john! Danny was thrilled at my enthusiastic climax; if only he knew from whence it came.

  Asleep later, I dreamt again of the shadowy man fucking me raw and leaving me soaked and sated. Somewhere in the periphery of my dream haze I glimpsed a badge.

  I waited about a week and a half before placing another listing. As the calls came in, I set up my schedule. Yep, line ‘em up, fuck ‘em, then on to next; that’s my plan. The first guy I chose to see said his name was Phil. Phil turned out to be a tall, geeky thirty-something who had some erectile difficulties. I took care of those difficulties with oral aplomb, sucking him almost to the point of ejaculation. I managed to get a condom onto him without any wilt, and he energetically fucked me missionary style for about 30 seconds before he came with a shout, reminding me of those Latino soccer commentators when they announce a goal.

  The next guy was a short, fat dude with a short, fat dick. He wanted it doggie and I obliged. He managed to fill me well enough and lasted long enough to get me to a mini-quake of an orgasm. Another satisfied customer. The day went on like a well oiled assembly line. Well oiled meaning well lubricated, as I used almost an entire bottle of sex lubricant to make it through. Even with that, I went home sore as hell—and with a fistful of welcome cash.