“Well, I better get going,” Tory says. “I’ve probably already said too much.”
Eric wants to ask her a few more questions but he doesn’t want to seem desperate, and besides, she’s already closing the door behind her so he just lets it go.
He falls back onto the bed and tries not to think about the implications of Tory’s little confessional there at the end. Luckily for him the copious amounts of alcohol still in his system and the total exhaustion from the evening with Tory combine to send him into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately. He will worry about Jasmine later. Right now it’s time to recover.
#####
THE GIRL IS IN CHARGE
CONFESSIONS OF AN ESCORT ADDICT: VOLUME ONE
JT HOLLAND
I’ve never understood the reluctance to pay for an escort. The way I see it, escorts provide the best of both worlds. Not only are you pretty much guaranteed to get someone who knows how to fuck, you get someone who either enjoys doing it or are good enough at faking it that you won’t know any different. And more importantly you don’t have to deal with any of the heartache. You make a phone call, order the services and type of girl you desire, pay your money, then relax and start getting warmed up. No need for any false pretences, no need for any emotional ties, no need for any awkwardness associated with conventional male/female relationships. No worry about talking afterward. Or sharing your feelings. None of that crap applies. As for the morals of the transaction? What are morals anyway but a set of standards forced upon us by the arbitrary whims of the society. Fuck it, I say. Do what you want, what makes you feel good. Fuck everyone else. Let them live their own life. So the way I see it, give me an escort or give me death. But enough of the rambling, I’m sure you want to get to the good stuff. After all, that’s why you bought this right? For the sex. So here we go.
I’m in Los Angeles for an overnight stay in the middle of a two-week long business trip. There are hundreds of reasons why I love L.A., not the least of which is its high-quality escorts. As the porn capitol of the world, the misnamed City of Angels has no shortage of sex workers plying their trade. You can get whatever kind of girl you want—any hair color, any attitude, any race—with nothing more than a phone call to the right person. And I know all the numbers by heart. I call one of my favorite companies and arrange for a specific type of girl to come to my door in exactly thirty minutes, then I open a bottle of $200 merlot to let it breathe and sit back and allow my excitement build.
Exactly thirty minutes later there is a series of hard knocks on my hotel room door. I go to answer it, a glass of wine already in hand. Just before I grasp the handle there comes another series of knocks. Harder than the first one.
“Open up already,” says a husky, incredibly sexy female voice from the other side. Impatient, demanding, used to being in charge. Exactly what I ordered up. My entire body tingles with anticipation.
I open the door and she steps in and grabs the glass of wine out of my hand and pushes past me before I even have a chance to get a good look at her from the front. But the back is shaping up beautifully. Straight, jet black hair hanging down beneath her shoulders. Short black dress hugging her voluptuous curves perfectly, ending just above her knees, accentuating her round ass perfectly. Gorgeous legs, toned to perfection, not too skinny, not to muscular. Calves you just wanted to take a bite out of. The same height as me in her 2-inch heels. My dick is already rock-hard just from looking at her and all I can see is her backside. This is going to be a great night.
She drains the glass of wine and pours herself another. She glances over her shoulder for just a moment but still doesn’t turn towards me. It’s obvious she’s torturing me, making me wait, playing her game. And I’m loving every second of it.
She finishes the second glass and finally turns to face me. I can only stare, barely able to catch my breath let alone speak.
“From the look on your face I take it you like what you see,” she says, her voice slightly mocking.
I nod and take her in. Big brown eyes with a naughty edge to them, dark blue eye shadow, full nose; not big, not small, lips painted bright red. One corner of her mouth is turned up in a little smirk. She looks at me with a hint of disdain, as though she knows she’s better than me. As if I’m her little plaything. As if she’s running the show. Which she is.
And her tits, oh my god. Large but not unnatural, they hang perfectly from her frame. Practically hanging out of her black dress, they were things of beauty; if not real, than an absolutely perfect augmentation.
“Oh, you like these, do you?” she says, grabbing her tits with and pushing them together. She smacks them, makes them bounce. Then does it again. And again, laughing at my reaction. Nipples like pencil erasers poke through the material, mocking me.
And then a tit slips out of her top. Just one. I almost cream my pants. This absolutely slays me, irrationally turning me on in ways I can’t quantify. I shiver, take a deep breath, force myself to calm down.
“You’re one jumpy little fucker, aren’t you?” she says. “What is this, your first time or something?”
“It sure feels like it,” I say, hoping my self-depreciating manner will somehow bring my excitement down a notch. But no such luck. Nothing short of an ice-cold shower could have that effect on me, and the way I was feeling tonight I doubt even that would do the trick.
“Well, you’re in luck,” she says as she takes a step towards me, her eyes sizing me up with deadly seriousness, like a lion eyeing a wounded zebra. “Because I’m a pro. And by the end of the night, you’ll be one too.” Another couple of steps and now she’s within arm’s length. “And there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you cum until I’m damn well good and ready for it. Got that, mister?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Mistress,” she says. “You call me mistress.”
“Yes, mistress,” I say.
She is nearly standing on top of me, her tits pressing up against my chest. We are face to face, almost exactly the same height. She eyes me up and down, inspecting me like a piece of meat.
“So, you like a woman who takes charge, do you?” she says.
I nod my head and lick my lips. I don’t trust myself to speak. As it is I can hardly breathe my adrenalin is flowing so fast.
“Then you got the right girl,” she says. “Because there’s nothing I like better than to be in control of my man. Especially a wanna-be tough guy like you. I bet you boss people around all day, don’t you? Always getting everyone to do whatever you want, whenever you want it.”
“Something like that.”
“Well not tonight, mister. Tonight you’re my toy. My little boy toy. You got that?”
“Yes mistress.”
“Damn right you do,” she says. And then she put her hands on my chest and shoves, pushing me backwards. I stumble back a few steps but she’s already on top of me, pushing me again, more gently this time, moving with me, backing me up until my butt is touching the wall.
She runs her hand up and down my chest, pressing up against me with hips, her mouth mere centimeters from mine, her eyes boring into me with deadly seriousness.
“You like that, don’t you,” she says. It’s not a question but a statement of fact. “You like me pushing you around, putting my hands wherever I want, not even asking for permission.”
I swallow and nod my head.
“What about this?” she says, dropping her hand down to my cock and grabbing it. “You like this too?”
“Yes.”
She squeezes my cock tighter, making me gasp. “Yes, what?” she asks sharply.
“Yes, mistress.”
“That’s better,” she says. And then she kneels down in front of me and starts rubbing my hard cock. It’s trapped against my pants, pushing into the material with nowhere to go but still she rubs it some more, making it harder and harder still, smiling at my discomfort. But still she rubs. I groan lightly. She giggles and rubs some more. I groan again, louder this time
.
“Shut up and take it,” she says in a harsh voice. “Don’t make another fucking sound until I tell you to.”
“Yes mistress,” I say.
She smacks my balls. I wince in pain.
“Did I tell you to speak?”
I shake my head no.
“That’s a good boy,” she says. “And just for that you’re going to get rewarded.”
She undoes my zipper, sticks her hand inside my pants. She caresses my cock, slowly playing her finger up and down the shaft. It’s still folded up against my pants, threatening to poke a hole in the material.
When she finally unfolds my cock it pops out of the open zipper like a jack-in-the-box. She places her palm under it as if weighing it.
“Not bad,” she says. “Not bad at all.”
She spits on my cock and begins to stroke it. She looks up at me. “Do you want me to suck it?” she says, still stroking as she talks.
I nod.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“I want you to suck my cock.”
“Beg for it,” she says, still stroking.
“Please,” I say, the words coming out at no more than a whisper. “Suck my cock. Please, Mistress. Please suck my cock.”
She sticks her tongue out, licks the tip. I shudder. She looks up at me and smiles. Laughs. Shakes her head.
“Sorry,” she says. “It’s not going to happen. Not yet, at least. Torturing you is just too much fun.”
Then she cups my balls in her hand, drops down farther onto her knees, and scoots further under me. I lean back against the wall, slide my feet out away from it, and then my hips, creating a bridge. Giving her more room to work and myself a better angle to see what she’s doing.
She slips her hand up my scrotum and pinches it off just below my cock, creating a little pocket. She licks my sack, then suckles one of my balls, playing with it in her mouth. Then she does the same with other. She opens her mouth wider and takes them both at the same time. Bounces them off one another. Sucks on them, creating a vacuum with her mouth. Increasing the pressure.
I shudder, focus all my energy on not blowing my load. She senses this and relaxes the pressure while still continuing to suck. With my balls in her mouth she lays my cock on top of her face alongside her nose. She takes my cock in her hand and strokes it. Lets my balls fall from her mouth.
She scoots back and smiles up at me, a mocking, “I own you” smile. She is still on her knees. She is still stroking my cock.
My legs are trembling. My breath is ragged. The pressure is nearly unbearable. If she would just take me in her mouth I would cum within a matter of seconds and then I could die a happy man.
“Please,” I say.
“Please, what?”
“Please suck my cock.”
She tilts her head, eyes me with menace.
“Please suck my cock, mistress,” I say.
Her glare softens. She seems to think about it for a moment. Then, to my dismay, she stands up and says, “Nah, I don’t think so. You haven’t earned it yet.”
Her hand is still on my cock and she uses it to drag me towards the bed. My pants are still down around my ankles so I have to shuffle madly to keep from falling.
I start to beg her again but she turns and slaps me in the face.
“Shut up,” she says. “Did I tell you to speak to me?”
I shake my head.
“That’s right.” She turns me and pushes me down onto the bed. “So you just take your clothes off and lie down on your back and get ready to make yourself useful.”
“Yes mistress.”
I do as I am told, slipping out of my clothes while she goes over and has another glass of wine. She ignores me completely, as though I’m not even there, and this just turns me on even more. Finally I’m naked. I climb onto the bed and adjust myself so I am lying in the middle. The moment of truth is almost here. And I can hardly wait.
She dusts off her glass of wine and slips out of her dress and turns towards me, allowing me full access to her body. Fully naked now, I get the see it in all its splendor, taking it in as a whole. Beautiful face, graceful neck, perfect tits, thin waist, wide hips, neatly trimmed bush, muscled but not muscular legs. Even her feet were perfect, right down to her toenails which are painted bright red.
She is just standing there, towering over me, when she starts to play with her pussy. At first just rubbing it, then sticking one finger in, then two. Sliding in and out, the wetness building, becoming more and more slippery, occasionally pulling her fingers out to stick them in her mouth and suck off the juices before diving back in for more. She stares directly at me while she plays with herself, as if daring me stand up and take control. But I don’t fall for the trap. Instead I just start to play with myself, preparing my cock for what’s to come.
“Don’t fucking touch yourself,” she says. “Just let it sit there.”
I reluctantly do as I’m told.
And then she’s moving towards the bed, towards me. She’s taken to rubbing her clit but her eyes still haven’t strayed from mine.
She slaps her pussy a few times then climbs onto the bed by my feet. She begins to lick her way up my body, starting with my calves, then my knees, then my thighs. But instead of stopping at my waist she continues up, licking my belly button, then my under my ribs, licking, suckling, lightly biting, her hands exploring my chest as she does so. And then without warning she bites down on my nipple. I hiss in pain but she just laughs and continues on, suckling at my neck for a moment, then kissing me full on the lips, sticking her tongue down my throat with reckless intensity. But even that only lasts a couple seconds, and then she is continuing up towards my head and then before I know it she is sitting on my face, her dripping wet pussy dropping down perfectly onto my mouth and nose, straddling it, pushing down, smothering me, forcing me to breathe her in if I’m to take any breath at all.
And so I do, inhaling her musky odor into my lungs, holding it, letting it out. She moans in intense pleasure and grinds harder into my face, bouncing up and down. Her pussy is gushing, drenching my chin, my nose, my lips. I stick my tongue out and lick her sweet, supple pussy, the walls slick and delicious and as smooth as the finest silk.
“Oh fuck yeah, right there, right there, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” she says, losing herself.
I look up and see her leaning forward and gripping the top of the bed frame, her beautiful tits bouncing around above me, hair amiss, head bowed forward, face screwed up in intense pleasure.
I hook my arms around her thighs and stick my tongue out even further while pressing down on her hips and into me. She rides my tongue, forward and back, forward and back, forward and back, her moans growing in intensity, becoming grunts, then finally culminating in a single, piercing scream before falling silent.
Her body shudders once, then twice, then three times, each shudder accompanied by a little yelp of pleasure. She is breathing hard and her body is glistening with sweat. She throws her head back, looks up at the ceiling.
“Now that,” she says, “Is what I’m talking about.”
She climbs off my face and slides in next to me in bed. Propped up on one arm, she kisses me, tasting herself. She licks her lips and smiles.
Smiling back, I say, “Now will you please suck my cock?”
“Honey, after that, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”
And with that she slips down between my legs and takes my cock in her mouth.
Now I’m not hung like a porn star but I’m not hung like a pimple either, and still she swallows my cock without any problem whatsoever. It disappears between her lips and down her throat in a flash, her eyes fixed on mine the whole time.
“Ho-ly shit,” I say as I immediately fight the urge to spew in her mouth.
She winks at me and then shifts her head back a bit and somehow takes my cock even deeper. Lying on my back in the bed I can see the tip of her nose pressing into my groin and feel the tip of my cock pre
ssing against the back of her throat. Then her tongue flicks out from underneath and nestles my scrotum for just a moment, and I shudder in ecstasy and am just on the verge of cumming when she slides my cock out of her mouth. It’s dripping wet and coated with saliva and the tip is white from where the tightness of her throat restricted the blood flow.
I relax for a moment and the urge to cum passes. As soon as it’s gone she again takes my cock into her mouth, just the tip this time, sucks on it and jerks my shaft with her hand, the leftover saliva making it slick, allowing her to jerk it quickly, up and down, up and down, up and down, her hand squeezing tighter and tighter, increasing the pressure on my cock until I’m again only moments from cumming.
When she feels my tension rising again she slows down her strokes, pulls the tip from her mouth, and proceeds to slowly lick the length of my shaft with her tongue, up and then down, up and then down, up and then down, bringing me again into safe range.
“Do you want to come yet?” she says.
“Desperately,” I reply, at this point wanting only to release the incredible, nearly unbearable pressure.
“Beg for it,” she says while she massages my balls with her right hand and plays with my cock with her left.
“Please let me cum,” I say.
She tilts her head and eyes me with a slightly raised brow.
“Mistress,” I add.
“That’s better,” she says. “But I want you to say it again. Like you mean it this time.”
“Please mistress, please let me cum.”
She laughs and then just like that she deepthroats me again, effortlessly, holding it, holding it, holding it, my cock constricting her breath, gagging her, and then she starts moving her head up and down, up and down her lips moving the full length of my shaft, from tip to base, over and over again, her hair flipping everywhere, covering half her face but her gaze never leaving mine, her eyes deadly serious, hard at work, pushing me to the edge and then over it and my sphincter tightens and I buck my hips and I say, “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” over and over again and then my sphincter releases and so does my cock as I feel the cum shooting out, threatening to blow out the back of her throat and then she leans back just a little, changing the angle so the cum will flow better and takes my cock all the way into the back of her throat and holds is there as I cum and cum and cum some more, my body jerking and spasming in uncontrollable bursts and she takes it all, swallowing everything I have to offer seemingly without effort.
Ready To Blow - 8 Filthy Tales Page 5
