by Matt Shaw
“I want you so badly,” I said as I pulled away from her.
“Then have me,” she said. She stepped back so that she was standing at the opposite end of the bathtub. The spray from the shower no longer hitting her perfect looking body. She raised an eyebrow as though daring me to go to her. I took a step closer and - as soon as I did - she stepped out of the bath and onto the cold tiled floor of her bathroom. “Come with me,” she said. She grabbed the only towel from where it hung and walked from the room. I followed her - soaking and dripping water everywhere. I ended up following her into the bedroom. A small lamp, sitting on the bedside cabinet, offered an ambient light. She threw the towel to the side of the bed and climbed onto the soft looking mattress, laying her head on the pillow. I hesitated just after the doorway unsure of what to do. She patted the bed next to where she lay and I couldn’t help but join her.
I was shaking as I climbed onto the bed with her. I laid on my side facing her. She was on her side, facing me - both of us wet and naked. I should have been cold but I felt nothing. The lack of concern for my body temperature no doubt due to the fact I couldn’t take my eyes off her body. I nervously reached out with a shaking hand and placed it on her hip. I slowly moved it down her leg - as far as my reach would allow - before moving back up to her hip again. She didn’t move. She just watched my hand go through the motions.
“That’s nice,” she said quietly before asking, “Are you starting to feel less stressed?”
“I think I’m getting there.”
She took a hold of my hand and whispered, “Touch me.” She moved my hand up to her breast with her own hand and tightened her grip which - in turn - pressed my palm harder against her breast. I couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t smiling. She was staring me directly in the face as though watching my reactions. Still guiding my hand, she moved it down to between her legs. She pushed herself down onto my hand. I leaned forward to her and kissed her again, sliding my body slightly closer to hers. She released my hand but I didn’t move it. I left it there against her moist pussy. Was it the shower or was she as turned on as I was? I flinched as I felt her hand touch my own body. Just as I’d run a hand down her side, she too returned the favour to me before taking a hold of my cock once more. Her eyes were still transfixed on mine as I started to gently explore her outer lips with a finger; just gently teasing her slit. As I felt her get wetter I carefully pushed inside of her. She gasped and closed her eyes momentarily but didn’t once stop the rhythm with which she was stroking me. I wanted to close my eyes too - at least part of me did. I just wanted to shut them and go with the feelings seemingly rushing through my whole body. And yet - at the same time - I didn’t want to miss a thing. I wanted to take in everything about this evening. I inserted a second finger into it and started to explore her as I leaned in for a second passionate kiss. When we stopped - after what seemed a blissful lifetime - she ceased stroking me long enough to push me back a little, even moving my hand away. She pushed me onto my back and rolled on top of me. As she leaned down and kissed me again, out of the corner of my eye, I could see her fumbling for something on the bedside cabinet next to the lamp lighting our actions. She sat up a moment and I could see she had a silver foil in her hand; a condom. She tore at it with her teeth and smiled at me as she rolled the condom down my cock. I sighed at the touch of the slightly lubricated rubber. She sat up slightly before guiding my penis to her vagina. As she sat back down she eased me inside of her; a blissful feeling as I felt her tight pussy clamp around my cock. I couldn’t help but sigh. Eyes closed as the warm, tightness of the feeling overcome all of my senses at once. Another bolt of electricity rushed through me. Michelle asked if I was okay. She asked if I wanted her to continue. I nodded. I never want this to end. This moment - the love of my life back with me - I never want this to end. She tilted her head back and put her hands upon my bare chest as she slowly started to make love to me. Slowly sliding her pussy up and down my shaft. I looked down and watched as my hard-on slid in and out of her. I noticed, on the rubber, a smear of her thick, white juices; juices I so desperately wanted to taste once more. I sat up and we kissed again. My hands found her breasts and began to gently fondle them. I stopped kissing her mouth and started to kiss them. Gentle flicks of my tongue against her hardening nipples. The delightful sound of her soft moans sighing close to my ear adding to the various sensations helping to drive me wild. I moved my hands to her ass and gave each buttock a gentle squeeze; such a firm, firm arse. I felt a tickling sensation within my inner thighs as an orgasm started to build. I didn’t want to fight the feeling - I wanted to enjoy it in its entirety - and yet, at the same time, I didn’t want to be done yet. I wanted to carry on far into the night. I’ve been without her for so long. I’ve missed her touch. I’ve missed her kiss. I’ve missed the sound of her heavy moans and deep sighs. I’ve missed the tightness of her pussy. I shuddered as my cock twitched. Less than a second later, another twitch and a pulse and throb as I spat an orgasm into the end of the rubber worn. I’m not normally a heavy-cummer and yet it felt like it was going on forever and I couldn’t help but groan out loud and close my eyes. By the time I opened them again - a couple of seconds later - she was staring me directly in the eye. She was smiling, still rocking backwards and forward with me inside of her. Not fast - just a pleasant rocking sensation milking the last drop of spunk from my cock. She slowed to a stop. I released her ass and my hands dropped to the mattress on either side of my drained body. Michelle smiled at me and reached down to my penis. She took a hold of the base - the rubber in particular - and lifted herself from it. She laid next to me, cuddled in close. Neither of us said anything. We both just stayed there, lost in the moment, enjoying the peace.
I couldn’t help but look at her. She was so beautiful. The spitting image. The post-coital moment turned from being a pleasant hug to remembering she wasn’t really Michelle. She was Danni. Some girl I’d hired. A flash of guilt rushed through me - killing the moment of euphoria I’d felt. I sat up on the edge of the bed. I think she was surprised by my sudden movement.
“What is it, honey?” she asked. Her voice was as pure as the driven snow.
“Submarine.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even move. She just stayed where she lay, watching me. I tried to ignore her looks. I tried, in my head, to reassure myself that I hadn’t cheated on Michelle. She’d told me she’d wanted me to meet someone else. It was only me who’d stopped myself from doing so. Until now that is and - even then - this doesn’t count. I haven’t cheated. Not whilst we were role-playing that it was Michelle I was with.
“Are you okay?” she asked eventually.
I nodded and then stood up, “I’m sorry - I need to go.”
Chapter Six
In nothing but my warm dressing gown wrapped around my body, I closed my apartment door as Jake got to the stairs out in the hallway and walked through to the bathroom where I collected the clothes I’d earlier discarded. I put them in the washing machine, in the kitchen, and walked back through to the bedroom. First things first, I bent down and picked the condom up from the floor, along with the wrapper from where I’d left it on the side of the bed, and put them in the small waste paper bin tucked away in the corner of the room. I’d empty it later. I pulled the sheets from the bed, starting with the heavy duvet and took those through to the washing machine too, along with the towel despite the fact neither of us had actually used it.
I was in two minds as to how the appointment went. Had it not been for how we left things I’d have thought it went well. He seemed to enjoy himself and - more to the point - we managed to move things through to a more physical act despite his initial email saying he wanted an appointment same in nature to the previous one he’d experienced. The problem was how the appointment ended - more specifically how he behaved after he came. It was almost as though he felt guilty about what he’d just done with me. To be honest I couldn’t understand why someone would feel guilty when their p
artner had been gone for so many years. He wasn’t the first person to experience a post-orgasm feeling of guilt but usually it was a sensation endured by married men who knew that - despite what they were doing - they had a wife waiting for them at home blissfully ignorant, in most cases, to what their loving husbands were doing. That was the kind of guilt I could understand, on some levels although it was still a little strange. After all - if you’re going to feel guilty about it, how could you go ahead with the appointment in the first place? Unless this is what they needed to remind themselves of how much they loved their wives? Who knows - maybe - on some levels I might actually strengthen marriages opposed to potentially destroying them.
You learn not to get yourself too mixed up in those kinds of feelings in this game; the wide range of emotions screaming at you from within your conscience that you’re nothing more than a home-wrecker. I do not beg these men to come and see me. I certainly do not force them to. It is always their choice to pick up the phone or click on the contact button upon my profile page. Half the time - even after the session - I do not even know if they’re married or not. You’d think it would be easy for me to tell. After all surely I would just need to look at their ring finger but even that can be misleading. They may have a ring there but, like with Jake, their partner might be deceased. Normally the married men remove their rings anyway - maybe to help with their guilt - but it’s still easy to see there was a ring there. The indentation left by the band takes a while to fade; especially if they’ve been married for a while. It was hard not to feel for Jake though; a man so in love that he couldn’t move on despite so much time passing since his wife died. I wondered whether there was anyone I’d ever love so much that I wouldn’t be able to move on afterward. I won’t lie, there was a little part of me - a part which surprised me - that felt jealous. Not for his dead wife, that’s horrible, but the fact he’d been so in love with someone.
I’ve been single for a while now. I do not feel the need for a relationship. What I need from a man, I get through an appointment. Well the physical side anyway. And for that strange emotion called love - I have Dahl who loves me unconditionally.
Speaking of which…
I walked through to the living room and across to the sideboard where I’d left my mobile phones (one for work, one for home). As I picked up the home one, I also noticed the two mugs from the appointment were there and still needing to be washed up. I slid both phones into the pocket of my dressing gown and walked the mugs through to the sink where I quickly washed them up. Job done and back to the living room where I crashed on the sofa. I feel as drained as I did after our first appointment together. Not sure why. Again, I’ve had sessions which have been a lot more vigorous and I haven’t been as tired from them. I pulled what I thought to be my personal mobile from my pocket and illuminated the screen with a flick of the button. Looking at it, I immediately realised it was the work phone. I went to toss it to the side until I noticed there was a message there waiting for me; the picture of a little envelope. Someone clearly couldn’t read the profile. I do not like text messages because you get spammed by people texting you, fishing for rude comments to be texted back to them which they can wank over. You spend more of your life pressing delete than you do actually getting real bookings. I opened the text and readied my finger to delete it. I sat up when I noticed it was from Jake. A simple message, straight to the point, sent ten minutes ago. He was thanking me for my time and letting me know an email had been sent. An email?
I jumped up from the sofa and walked through to the bedroom. My laptop was in the corner of the room, next to the dirty laundry basket, where I’d hidden it. I carry it with me wherever I go on the off-chance I get a cancellation; it gives me the chance to change my status, on my page, to ‘available now’ for the possibility of some last minute bookings. I pulled the computer from the case and collapsed on the unmade bed with it, propping myself up with a pillow. The laptop powered up quickly. I do not use it for anything other than work - checking emails and making changes to the profile page - so it’s near enough empty on the hard drive - other than the operating system - and, therefore, quick for loading and navigating. The same can’t be said for the computer I have at home. I use that one less but - when I do get on it - it seems to be for saving pictures of days out with friends and that sort of thing. One dog slow computer right there. My emails loaded up and - true enough - there was one from Jake. The word ‘query’ in the subject heading. I wasn’t sure whether this was the same subject heading he’d used before or another query. I opened the message unsure of what he was going to say.
Hi Danni,
I had a great time. Thank you. Despite the wobble I had after the appointment - for which I apologise again - I had a great time and haven’t stopped smiling since I got home. I was wondering whether you’d be free again tomorrow. Perhaps we could role-play once more? I understand if this is becoming too weird for you. You must think I am crazy but, believe it or not, I’ve found it’s really been helping me recently! Anyway, if you’re free, I’d like another hour for the same time? Hope to hear from you.
I read the email which he signed off with his name and a couple of kisses. I didn’t know how to respond - not that an appointment tomorrow evening was practical anyway as I already had a booking but, when he comes back asking for another date, what do I say? I’m glad that he found the session helpful and that it cheered him up - honestly I am - but I am a business woman and a smart one at that despite what certain factions of society think of me because of the trade I choose to be in. Being smart I am well aware there is a danger for what us ladies refer to as the Pretty Woman Syndrome; when a client falls in love with a working girl because they believe the emotions between the two of them to be real. Appointments are not real though and all emotions need to be left at the door - other than the lust for fun and sexual desires fulfilled. I’ve had many a client say they love me in the past and I’ve always been perfectly honest with them; telling them it’s a business arrangement only and that I can’t love them. I’m doing my job. Those are the clients I advise to see other ladies. The more they see, as opposed to sticking with the one they prefer, the less chance there is they’ll fall for them. Although - in this instance - would he fall in love with me or the character I was pretending to be? Despite it being my idea initially, I started to feel a little uncomfortable about it. I set the laptop to one side. He wouldn’t have known I’d seen his text. It might have said it had been delivered on his phone but that was about it. I don’t need to reply immediately. Can have a think; time to decide on how best to proceed. But then - when he knows I am busy tomorrow - he might not contact me for another date. I could be stressing over something that doesn’t even matter. I took a hold of the laptop again and sent my reply. It was just a quick message saying I’m glad he had a nice time and that I’d love to see him again (potentially not true) but was busy at his requested time. I didn’t go back with alternative times or dates. I closed the laptop and set it to one side - reaching for my personal mobile (still in my dressing gown pocket). Need to let mum know I’ll be with her soon for Dahl. She’ll probably be stressing that I’m leaving him with her for the night again. She pretends to be annoyed but I know, deep down, she loves the company.
*
The client’s legs were twitching and his breathing had become heavier and faster paced. I knew he was close to the edge as I expertly worked his shaft with both mouth and hand. I pulled my head back and continued to wank him, increasing the speed as I did so in the knowledge the appointment would soon be coming (literally) to an end. He groaned out loud with his eyes shut as I aimed his cock towards my naked breasts. Jet after sticky jet of his hot spunk splashed against my chest. I didn’t stop tugging him until I was sure every last drop of sperm was milked from his cock. As his cock dribbled its last I looked up to his face. He was looking down at the mess he’d made - all over my heaving bosom - a satisfied grin on his face.
“I clearly needed that,” he
laughed.
He always says that. One of my regulars. I’m not sure whether he purposefully builds a stock-pile up before he comes to see me or whether he’s just a heavy-cummer in general but it’s always the same. When he shoots, he shoots big and always laughs about it. I remember the first time I saw him. I honestly don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much semen shoot from someone. It was a never-ending waterfall of sticky. I remember being thankful for not offering clients the chance to cum in my mouth. Had I been sucking when he’d shot his load, I could have been drowned.
“Have you been saving that up for me?” I asked, a smile on my face. Just as he always told me he clearly needed it, I always asked if he’d been saving it for me.
I reached across for the tissues at the side of the bed and handed him a wad, taking a handful for myself. I didn’t need to be spotlessly clean. Just needed to get the worst of it off to save it running down my stomach and making more unnecessary mess. The client sat up with his back against the headboard of the bed. He thanked me as he started to clean himself up.
“If you want, you’re more than welcome to have a shower.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Going straight home after this. Nice hot bath with my name on it!”
I always offered a shower, he always declined. I liked the regular appointments. I knew what to expect from them, I knew how to please them. They knew what to expect from me, they knew what they could and couldn’t do. It was good for both parties.
