by Clara James
“Thanks,” I replied, gratefully taking the card and slipping it and the check into my purse. However, unlike, Steven I didn’t leave entirely satisfied. I was glad that I’d managed to perform well for him, way beyond my expectations, but I was desperate for a release of my own. So much so that when I got to the underground parking lot, I slipped into the back seat of my car so I could stretch out and masturbate myself to a brief orgasm that was just enough to see me through the journey home. Unlike my date with David, at no time did I feel the sense of satisfaction and completeness. Instead, I found myself craving the sensation of being filled.
Over the next couple of days, I played with myself on five more occasions, each time thinking about my experience with Steven. It was not until the day of my next date, with John, that I began to allow my mind to drift from the memory.
My appointment with John took place at a not quite so ritzy hotel. Not that the standard of the place mattered; it was, importantly, out of the way, quiet and clean. It was a privately owned establishment and he requested that I meet him in the parking lot, so we could sign in together.
He quickly approached me, greeting me with a nervous smile. He was a heavily-built man in his early forties. He wasn’t particularly fat, but he had a very thick frame, with ridiculously wide shoulders. He was tall, too. Easily six and a half feet, maybe even bigger than that. His hair was receding and what little he had was shaved close to his scalp. All told, he looked like the kind of man who would be a bouncer or bodyguard.
At the reception desk, he introduced us as husband and wife to the elderly lady who was the receptionist and owner. He then handed over a credit card and signed in. I never asked him why he felt the need to have the veneer of ‘proper’ to us sharing a room. I don’t suppose it mattered; it was just another peculiarity of people.
John was different from the other men I’d met; he didn’t want to talk; didn’t want to eat or have a drink. It seemed to me that perhaps he was not as affluent as my other two clients had been, he appeared to be very aware of the fact that I was already on the clock and he wanted to get down to the main event.
At another time, that may have bothered me, but with the longing in my loins that had been burning for three days, the lack of finesse with which he began to paw at my clothes didn’t trouble me at all.
This time, I’d chosen to go without any underwear, and as his hand pushed my skirt off my hips and met naked skin he seemed to approve.
“I like a girl who comes prepared,” he remarked, his eyes moving down to my waxed mound. His right hand swept rapidly between my legs, the heel of his hand pushing possessively at my sex.
“I aim to please,” I told him, holding eye contact with him, as he worked his coarse fingers between my lips and sought my entrance.
“Hmm,” he hummed, sliding a second chubby finger inside. “It’s nice,” he mumbled. “Nice and tight.”
I shuffled my left leg, spreading wider for him. “It’s all yours,” I tempted him.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I want to bang you so hard.”
“You can do whatever you want with me,” I responded, smiling. “I’m yours.”
As arousal caused his chest to start heaving, he pulled his hand away from my body. Hurriedly, he started to remove his clothing, shrugging out of a charcoal jacket and then moving to the buttons on his shirt. I didn’t help him. Instead, I continued to keep my eyes on his, giving him a sultry smile, as I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of the puddle of skirt at my feet.
It took him no longer than ten seconds to strip completely. Somehow he looked even larger without clothes, with huge bulging biceps that wouldn’t allow his arms to sit by his sides. His shaft, however, was an average size. Or maybe it was slightly larger and just looked average on him. I couldn’t be sure without a tape measure, and it didn’t seem right to ask him if we could stop so I could measure it.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he muttered, stepping forward and grabbing my hips with both of his large strong hands. “I want you so bad.”
“Uh uh,” I reminded him carefully, pointing down at his member. “One more thing before we can get this party started,” I said.
“Shit,” he cursed, his hands refusing to let go and his face drifting closer to mine., “I forgot,” he whispered his lips almost brushing mine. “Can’t we do it just this once without, huh? I swear I’m clean.”
I didn’t believe him – not about being clean, he might have been telling the truth about that. But I didn’t believe he’d forgotten to bring a condom. I think he was just one of the many men who don’t like wearing them and hoped that perhaps he could talk his way around it.
“I never do that,” I told him calmly with a small smile. “It’s for the safety of my clients as well as my own,” I pointed out. “But, lucky for you, I always carry a few.” Placing my hands over his, I deliberately removed his grasp of me. I moved over to a small table with a wobbly leg and opened my purse. Quickly I put my hands on a condom wrapper and ripped it open. I returned to him, holing the circle of latex between my finger and thumb. I grinned at him, as I fell to my knees. “I promise it’ll still feel good,” I added, noting the disappointed look on his face.
I leaned forward and teasingly ran my tongue in a circle over his head, before slipping the condom over him. Then, I squeezed his shaft gently as I smoothed it down to his base.
He jerked and shivered as I did so, muttering a string of curses under his breath.
“There now,” I softly said, pushing myself to my feet. “We’re ready to rock and roll.”
With a snap of motion, his hands were back on my hips and he was turning me around. Then, with one stride he pushed me to the floral wallpapered wall. It was the kind with an embossed pattern, which was pressing uncomfortably into the skin of my back. However, there was no time to complain about it. He was already using his tremendous strength to lift me. My back slipped at least a foot up the wall, and I instinctively wrapped my ankles around the small of his back.
“Ohh,” I squealed in surprise.
“You smell good,” he mumbled, placing his nose to my shoulder and inhaling deeply. “Damn it, I want to fuck your brains out.” As he said that, he took one hand off me.
Sure I was about to fall, I grabbed his sturdy shoulders with both hands. However, it seemed he could just as easily take my weight with only one arm, while he grabbed the shaft of his erection and positioned it at my glistening, moist channel.
He started slowly, pushing himself in a little at a time, which drove me crazy with anticipation. When he completed his entrance with a grunt of pleasure, I felt myself open completely to him, I wailed for what he’d promised.
“Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck me!”
“Yeah, baby,” he grunted, giving an extra push to ensure he was as deep as he could get. Then, there was a flurry of action.
His hips moved like a piston, pumping relentless; his body slapping hard against mine, my back banging against the wall with a thud on each completed thrust. He wasn’t lazy; making sure to pull almost completely from me before ramming back to the hilt.
My mouth hung perpetually open, releasing a moan each time the air was pushed from my lungs. He growled aggressively with each drive of his hips, and the masculine scent of his sweat and arousal drifted up from our joined bodies.
“Oh, yeah,” I began to mewl. “Give it to me!” With each slide of his cock within me, I felt energized. And each bump of his pubic bone against my clitoris sent me spiraling higher. I was on the verge of orgasm, bucking against him with almost as much force as he was thrusting into me. “Yes,” I panted. “Oh, Christ, yes! Yes!”
Spots began to dance in front of my closed eyelids. It was a strange kind of rolling orgasm; it didn’t come in one big bang, but just kept drifting back and forth with every explosive ram of his pubic bone against mine. The seconds went by and I remained in that state of bliss, still crying out and moaning. It began to feel as though it could last forever.
&nb
sp; Only it didn’t last forever. John stopped moving inside me. Carefully he scooped me up and stepped back towards the bed. There, he promptly dropped me and his cock slipped out of me.
“You are one sexy woman,” he muttered, placing his hands on my waist and flipping me over onto my stomach. Once I was there, he coaxed me onto my hands and knees.
I glanced over my shoulder, watching him with orgasm fogged eyes as he placed himself between my legs.
“You like it like this?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, as he poked his still rock hard member to my asshole.
Quickly reaching around I grabbed his dick before he had a chance to do anything else. Heart pounding in my chest, I tried not to appear as frightened by the prospect as I was. “It’s going to cost you extra,” I said, hoping that would be enough to put him off the idea. I’d never engaged in any kind of anal play and despite the way Steven had apparently enjoyed it, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for that step. At least not with the lumberjack approach John was taking.
“How much?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Another thousand,” I said calmly. It didn’t feel odd that we were discussing a business transaction, while naked, with me on all fours and him kneeling at my butt.
Solemnly, he shook his head. “All right, I’ll stick with your pussy.”
“Your choice,” I shrugged, releasing my grip of him, and trying to give the impression that I had a blasé attitude towards anal sex. That way, he would know that it was his decision not to go through with it, and that I, being an excellent escort, had given him everything he’d wanted.
“We’ll do that another time maybe,” he shrugged. It was clear that he was disappointed and I wondered if his enthusiasm had started to wane.
With a jolt of my hips, I bumped my backside against him. “Come on, big boy,” I throatily said. “Finish what you started.”
“You still want more, you little slut?” he asked.
“I can take all you’ve got to offer,” I promised, giving him one more bump with my buttocks.
This spurred him into sudden action once more. He angrily gripped my waist and pushed himself into my waiting sex. “Ugh,” he howled. “God, your pussy is so warm,” he grunted. “So soft.”
I was even wetter from my prolonged orgasm, and as he quickly pumped, our combined groans and moans were accompanied by the soft squelch of his body disappearing within mine. At any other time in my life, I would have found that sound effect embarrassing, but it seemed perfectly natural given the rough, animalistic sex we were having. In fact, it even turned me on.
“Harder,” I said, encouraging him to give me everything he’d got.
Pinching my waist more tightly, he shouted, as he stepped up the speed and depth of his thrusts. In this new position, the angle of his tip rubbed manically against my G-spot. It brought with it a much more violent orgasm that knocked the strength from me. My upper half flopped forward, collapsing on the bed. The only thing keeping my lower half up was his strong hands. With the stamina of a stallion, he continued to thrust as I rode the sensation. However, the strength of my internal spams soon milked him.
With a cry of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and then a muttered, “So good!” he rammed his cock into my channel three more times, before the spasms of his body gripped him. With strangled breaths, he pulled from me and fell back onto the bed.
Without his support, I flopped onto my stomach, my own breath ragged. “God,” I mumbled, turning my face away from the pillow. “Wow,” I added with a chuckle. “That was incredible.”
“You’re incredible,” he replied, his voice sounding very far away. Yet I knew he couldn’t be, because the weight of one of his legs was still on mine.
It wasn’t until I was slipping out half an hour and a shower later that I realized the little old lady may have thought we were married, but the noises coming from the room were enough to shock the God-fearing life out of her anyway.
Chapter Five
Student
On Paul’s return, I remembered to behave exactly as I had before I found out about his affairs. I wrapped my arms around him when he walked through the door, I tried to talk to him about the trip, that night I attempted to instigate sex. It all worked like a charm, he treated me with cold indifference and shrugged off my attempts at intimacy. I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing if the plan had backfired, I would have found myself in a situation I really didn’t want to be in.
It may seem strange to say, but I was happy to sleep with strangers who could have had sex with numerous women – even on the very day that I met them. But it wasn’t so much about the physical act, although with Paul it would have been unprotected, so that did change things somewhat. No, my main concern was the fact that Paul had betrayed me.
Selling my body was fine when both parties knew that that was the score. Giving myself unwillingly to a man who’d lied; the man who claimed to love me. No, that was very different in my mind.
To my disappointment, Paul’s trips seemed to have temporarily dried up. My guess is this was a huge blow to him, too. And it wasn’t just the fun I’d be missing out on. I had a bigger problem. Through word of mouth, my reputation was growing. I had another three potential new clients, all of whom were keen to see me within the next few days. What’s more, hearing from their friends the rate I charged, they were offering to pay more to encourage me to break any existing dates I’d scheduled.
I was now being offered three thousand dollars (and more) per hour. It was simply too good to pass up. However, there was a problem. How could I spend the night out without Paul wondering where I was? I had to think very carefully about that.
It didn’t take long though for a plan to formulate in my mind. Paul was working in his den when I approached him on a Wednesday afternoon. He’d decided not to go into the office and had been working from home the last few days.
“Hey, honey,” I began, walking in with a cup of steaming coffee in my hand. “I thought you might like a little refreshment,” I suggested.
“Thanks,” he muttered, not looking up from his laptop, his fingers still scurrying over the keys.
Placing the mug on his desk, I lingered for a moment, hoping he would acknowledge my presence. He didn’t. “Umm,” I began. “I was wondering if you’d mind staying here with the kids tomorrow night, so I can go to the gym?”
“The gym?” he replied, still only half paying attention.
“Yeah,” I responded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance and I’m starting to feel a little flabby,” I mentioned, looking down at my abdomen to add conviction to the story.
“I think you are, too,” he replied, without any trace of humor. He finally lifted his eyes from the computer screen and met my face for a moment. “I think it’s a good idea,” he nodded. “You could do with getting a few hours exercise.”
I quashed the urge to ask him what he meant by that, to argue that I looked hot for having had three children and that there were plenty of men who thought so. All of that stayed in my head. What came out of my mouth was a simple, “Thanks.” I tried not to add a dash of sarcasm to it and I attempted a genuine smile. “I won’t leave until after dinner and bedtime,” I explained. “So might not be back till midnight or later.”
“Fine, whatever,” he said dismissively, returning his focus to his work.
Although it hurt to think he cared so little about what I was doing, it was incredibly helpful to my plan. So, I didn’t spend too long licking the wound.
The following evening, I met Chris. He was a twenty-three-year-old student, with very wealthy parents by all accounts. I thought he was probably a trust-fund baby. He told me in his email that he lacked any confidence with women, and it had been a while since he’d last had sex.
Neither of these things were problematic to me. They might have been earlier on, but I was beginning to gain real confidence in my body, my sexuality and my ability to give pleasure to men no matter what their tastes.<
br />
Strangely, Chris asked me to come to his apartment, rather than meeting in neutral territory. I explained that I don’t make a habit of doing that, for safety reasons. However, something about his messages seemed genuine and I felt that I could trust him.
His home, at least I assumed it was his home (perhaps he had enough money to rent a condo for a night), was a massive luxurious bachelor pad, right in the middle of the busy city. It was only an hour’s drive from my house, which was a little closer than I’d become comfortable with working, but it meant that, with a bit of luck, I’d be able to get back before the early hours of the morning.
Chris was a big guy, quite substantially overweight. As he answered the door, he was a little breathless from the walk. He was very fresh-faced, looking quite a bit younger than he claimed, but given what he would go on to tell me, I have no reason to believe he’d lie about his age. His hair was a light brown, styled in a mock 1950s pompadour. He wore nicely tailored clothes, despite his size. And I couldn’t help but notice the platinum Rolex on his left wrist.
“Arianna?” he asked.
“That’s me,” I smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Chris,” I added, offering him my right hand.
He took it in his sweaty palm and anxiously shook it. “Pleasure to meet you,” he echoed. “Please, come on in.”
I wandered into a large high-ceilinged living space, with white leather couches surrounding an open fire place. “This is very nice,” I noted.
“Thanks,” he replied. “Please take a seat.”
After giving him a grateful nod, I sashayed to one of the couches and sat on the edge, keeping one hand on the hem of my dress as I lowered myself. I got the distinct impression he was watching me closely as I moved, his eyes seemed to burn into me. Rather than make me feel self-conscious, it made me feel good – really good.
“Like I said in my email,” he began, taking a seat on the couch opposite me. “I don’t really know what to do with women. They’re not exactly falling at my feet,” he self-deprecatingly muttered, gesturing to his body. “It’s hard for me to meet someone.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but I sensed there was something else he wanted to say, so I deliberately didn’t fill the silence. “And, umm, I have needs...Well, I suppose I don’t need to tell you that,” he said, shaking his head at what he felt was his own stupidity.
