About Last Night...

It was fantastic, Crème Brulée. You had me from hello. I admit it. Beautiful, smiling, friendly men are my weakness, my fatal flaw, my sun on cloudy days. These things alone are enough to turn me to putty. Add into the mix the softest lips maybe ever, silky facial hair, a clean hipster aesthetic, similar hobbies and sexual prowess, as well as some BOMB-ASS weed and enthusiastic, responsive kissing... I can see why my friend said "don't fall for clients" as I was gushing about the awesome session. Well-meaning and misguided though he may be, a hot session does not equal any kind of falling. But it does mean my thoughts for the next few days, weeks, maybe even months will occasionally drift back to him, and last night, and what we did.

He sent a pic, which rarely happens. He looked like a model, so I wanted to assume "spam/phishing" but something about his email told me I would be meeting him. And sure enough, near or after midnight, he calls and I get the warmth. We make a date for an hour, and he shows up in a half hour. Even one minute after saying he was five minutes away, I hear a knock. I was not ready! But oh was I ever ready. I didn't know it, but I was about to get everything I'd been idly wanting all day: some hot, paid sex with a hot, fun partner.

We partook and chatted. I felt slightly shy, as I often do lately, and after we butted the doob, I said "what now? shall we talk?", then I pulled him close and he came to me. He kissed me perfectly the first time, and he was into it. I kissed him for a few minutes, feeling my body already tingling in arousal, before I stopped and complimented his skills. Hands began to linger on each other, and finally I just wanted to be all over him. I asked him to come with me and he followed me eagerly to my bed, where we undressed down to our underwear.

His eyes, so appreciative and sparkly, were on me constantly. Eye contact tends to turn me on. I always like to look at my lovers. His lips, soft, full, surrounded with silk, were on me constantly. Nothing turns me on like intense chemistry and really, really good kissing. We just kissed and kissed and kissed, hands in hair and on backs, asses, arms. I'm too distracted by thoughts of last night to even write about last night.

He spoiled me. He turned me over, and on top of me, kissed me everywhere. What is up with these beautiful boys and the Goddess treatment? He even referred to me as such. I was in heaven, with those eyes darting up to look at me and a very experienced tongue and mouth working on my smoldering body. He licked my pussy like a professional, taking his time and making me totally swollen before even licking me. I almost came just from feeling his tongue on me.

After licking me until I was dripping, his shorts came off. Perfect compact little body, and a jumping perfectly sized cock. I just laid back and shook my head in disbelief. How can this be my job? How can I be getting paid for this? And then 69, my favorite. He was quite the rock star in that position. I know it's difficult to get properly angled, but he was making full, strong contact with my clit. I could tell he liked the humping motion, he had asked me to dance on him, after all, so I worked my hips back and forth on his face as I sucked him slowly in my warm mouth. Again, highly distracted.

After kissing and licking him everywhere, and sucking him lovingly, I had to have him inside me. Condom. I straddled him again, breasts, again, in his open and waiting mouth, sucking them until my pussy throbbed. If not for the insane twitching on his part, his amazing dick would have slid right in, but it was quite literally jumping all over the place when I came near it. So I guided it in, just barely, and bent down to kiss his waiting lips. I wanted to feel him gasp when I slid down on him. He kissed me hard, pulling me close to him and pushed himself up inside me and I was the one who gasped. It started slowly at first, then built into furious fucking, kissing, moaning and bouncing. We did this for an hour, at least. Me on top, him on top, stopping to kiss. Then slowing down, moaning, talking, kissing, just using our muscles to squeeze each others' bits.

This story doesn't end with a big climax scene. I don't think either of us even did. I don't think either of us cared. I know I didn't, and don't. I came twice today just thinking about kissing him. I was satisfied with kissing, oral pleasuring, amazing skin-tingling fucking, kissing, did I mention kissing, and then briefly sleeping in each others' arms, and kissing goodbye for five minutes. Tell me what's better than that?

Fantasies: ALL business

I've noticed a trend recently. When I fantasize, i.e. when I am getting off (or trying to), it's almost always clients who feature most prominently. I guess that more than a year into escorting I am still shocked that 99% of my sessions are fun, satisfying, and with people I am really attracted to. When I began, I had SO MANY misconceptions about sex work. I just thought that those things didn't apply to me. When I began, I still thought that many hookers, strippers, porn stars, etc. were likely just cokeheads with hot bodies who probably didn't enjoy what they were doing. I'm not sure why I thought I was the exception. Meeting other like-minded sex workers completely opened my eyes. But then, my eyes have opened to many of the biases and judgments I carry around over the past year. I thought only people who HAD to pay for sex (whatever that means) paid for sex. But no. I remember seeing Brown Eyes, my second or third client, ever, and thinking "holy crap! he must be a cop!" WHY would such a GORGEOUS man be paying for sex? Especially sex with someone like me (me being much less confident at the time), i.e. someone many men wouldn't even admit to being attracted to?

It still baffles me at times. I think much of it is the anonymity. Maybe a lot of my clients wouldn't want to date or otherwise spend time with me, so they feel they should compensate me. Many are married or attached. Some just have a specific fantasy. I'm sure a huge chunk of them fear rejection. But this is not what this post is about.

Fantasies. Lately they involved the following: twitchy dicks, poking, warming and tickling my thighs and ass. Female nipples and clits, being licked and sucked, by me, to perfect orgasms, no reciprocation required. Two of my favorite clients ever, the new one from last night, let's call him Crème Brulée, and Nate, the golden shower enthusiast. I picture Nate under me, licking me, drinking my piss, and Crème Brulée, sitting on his chest, kissing my lips and nipples, and maybe even playing with Nate's equally formidable cock. I think those two together might literally be too much for me to handle, and don't think either of them is bi. Pity. Would I have a heart attack in the face of so much sexiness? Other fantasies involve the Unicorn, Dinar, and a young man I will call Pompadour who came by a few weeks ago to service me. Even after he came, he stuck around to make me come. Rare in guys who aren't paying.

I dunno. For all of my open-mindedness it still seems weird to me that the sex I get paid for is almost always better than the sex I end up having for free. I'd argue that I get off on the anonymity, but the longer I see clients, the hotter our connections seem to become.

So yeah. If you rocked my world, chances are you get me off even when you're not around. I still can not believe the boy from last night. Un-fucking-believable.