Loading...About two weeks after my sensuous and successful aptitude test with ‘Manon’, the company which provided discreet escorts for ladies. I was
contacted by Ron Vincent, who told me to call at the office the following evening as he had my first client.
I had already spent some time with Ron, getting a few pointers on what would be expected of me.
He also had me fitted out with a couple of outfits, a smart dark blue suit and a more casual jacket and pants, with shirts to match.
He had also taken me to the small, neat apartment where we could entertain the ladies when necessary. And I was given a key.
“Dress for whatever circumstance,” Ron advised, his chubby cheeks glowing as usual. He was a real enthusiast about the service he provided.
“Mind you,” he warned. “It won’t always be sex. Some of our ladies just want companionship. And many are cautious about letting us know what their needs are. So you have to play it by ear sometimes.”
So that evening I arrived at Ron’s office and was told I’d need the suit. “The lady’s name is Dawn— Dawn Soreen and you will be meeting her at the Vichois Restaurant.”
He saw my eyebrows rise,”Yeah, pretty swish. But she’ll be paying the tab. Seems like she’s a well-heeled broad. All I know is her husband left her.”
“Ugly, is she?” I asked.
“My information doesn’t tell me that. All I can tell you is she’s 42 years old.”
“Forty two?” To a twenty year old, that sounded ancient and I had an image of a plump over painted madam, straining to stay inside some fancy gown.
Ah, well,I knew what I had been letting myself in for, and Ron was paying me well.
I dressed in the suit with a blue shirt and matching tie, and arrived at the Vichois
at the appointed time. A waiter led me through a maze of occupied tables.
I noticed a bias towards blue rinsed, buxom middle aged ladies, some in pairs, some escorted, and others alone, eyeing me as we passed. And at each of those tables my heart slumped,’Was that overblown crone to be my date?’
Relief spread as the waiter led me on towards the rear of the restaurant. But what if something worse awaited me?
At a small alcove the waiter stopped and gestured.The lady there, smiled at me and my breath caught in my throat. Mature she might have been but under dark luxuriant hair was a face of sultry beauty with wide eyes and warm kissable lips.
My eyes took in the rest of her as she half rose in greeting. Round tanned shoulders revealed by her single strap black dress clinging with telling effect to a bosom which was generous without being hefty, and the shadowed cleavage was most inviting.
“I’m Dawn—you must be Jack.” Uncertainly I took the delicate hand she offered and nodded.
“My, you are not what I expected,” she said as I sat down opposite her. “I asked for a
younger man, but you can’t have been doing this sort of work for long”
I told her that this was my first.
She laughed, a lovely sound, “Oh, you must be as nervous as I am. I’ve never tried this sort of thing before.”
She certainly didn’t look nervous as she told me that she had already ordered and that she hoped
I liked steak.
In fact I’d never had steak like I had that night, the sauce was intoxicating. At first we talked about books and films. Subjects which showed, I was relieved to find, that we had interests in common, and the evening wouldn’t be totally heavy.
But as the wine took hold she began to open out and admitted that her husband had left her nine months earlier.
“He must have been mad,” I said, hoping that was gallant enough.
She gave me a grateful smile and her hand reached across the table to touch mine, “Kind of you, Jack. You know why he left me?”
I shook my head, noticing how her eyes had moistened.
“He said I was frigid.” She looked at me closely, seeking some reaction. I tried to show nothing although I was wondering if it would be right to ask, “Were you?” But I said nothing.
In fact she almost answered the question herself.
“I always felt I wanted to enjoy it—-but —only occasionally was I anywhere near–I don’t know—-Anyway, now I need to know for certain if there’s anything wrong with me.”
We had finished the meal, and she had discreetly paid the bill. Once again her eyes held mine as she said, “I chose this restaurant because my apartment is just around the corner. Would you accompany me there?”
I was in no position to refuse even if I’d wanted to. And the prospect of going to her apartment after what she had said was certainly intriguing.
It was only a short walk and she held my arm as we strolled along the sidewalk to a glass-fronted building where she punched some numbers on a keypad to open the doors. Then we took the lift to the second floor.
The apartment was clearly the possession of someone with money. Thick carpets, lavish furnishings and that air of expensive taste in all the fittings.
Once inside she stood close to me and asked to be kissed. I duly obliged. Her lips were soft and she came willingly into my arms, but her mouth resisted the tentative probing of my tongue. Maybe it was going to be an awkward night after all.
As we broke apart she took my hand and led me into a bedroom decorated in green, bed cover,
curtains, carpet and walls. “My favourite colour,” she said, and immediately slipped out of her outer jacket.
I stood transfixed at the foot of the king-size bed as she slipped her dress straps from her shoulders, wriggled, and allowed the dress to slide to the floor. Forty two years old! With a body like that? My whole previous concept of age was shattered.
A skimpy white bra gave little support to her generous breasts, while a flat, tanned belly disappeared into silky pants, so fine that I could see the dark shadowy patch they covered. An immediate stirring began in my own pants.
Her eyes had never left me as she undressed, and as she unhooked her bra she murmurred,”I may
be frigid but I’m not shy. Are you?” And she gestured at my clothing, as the bra dropped away to reveal a pair of brown tipped breasts that sagged only slightly.
Quickly I removed my jacket and shirt and by the time I began unbuckling my pants she stood there watching, totally naked, so shapely and sensuous that the pressure inside my pants increased.
As I stepped out of my shorts I heard her give a little gasp, and she set her body in a mock pose,” By the look of you, you like what you see.”
In an instant we were side by side on the bed. I rested one hand on the swell of her hip, marvelling at the silkiness. She looked into my eyes, “I needed a stranger for this. You will be kind, won’t you?”
“I’ll be as kind as you want me to be,” I said, and kissed her gently. I had resolved to take everything very slowly with this lady. There was obviously something to prove.
But I was glad to find that as we kissed this time her lips parted and her tongue slid along mine, and for a while we just lay there, tongues visiting and then welcoming.
After a few minutes I traced my hand from her hip up to the side of her breast, and then ran it back again. I repeated the action several times before allowing my fingers to trail over the smooth mound of her breast. Teasing around the nipple without actually touching it. The pressure of her tongue told me that this was having some effect.
Eventually I allowed my finger to rest on her nipple, circling gently, delicate as a bee on a flower.
She broke the kiss to mutter, “He was never like that.”
“Like what?”
“Caring like you. He treated my breasts as though he was screwing the lid off a jar.”
I kissed down the side of her neck, trailed my lips along the arc of her shoulders, repeated the
action a couple of times, savouring the sleek firmness of her skin, before moving down to her breast.
For a brief moment I sucked at the softness and licked around the dark areola. With some relief I heard her breathing quicken as my tongue touched on her nipple, and that small button instantly responded.
Carefully I took it between my lips, the tip of my tongue lapping over it as my lips squeezed around it.
I spent several minutes on her breasts, occasionally rising to kiss her lips and feel her rising passion through the searching of her tongue.
The way I was lying alongside her my erect penis nudged just below her hip. One of her hands strayed down to it. Her touch was light and teasing, but I felt it was a touch born of uncertainty rather than sensuality.
I figured it was time to take the next step. Hell, this was a woman frightened about her own frigidity. I had to be cautious.
As her fingers strayed delicately up and down my shaft I trailed my own fingers down over her belly, sensing her muscles tensing as I touched and rustled her pubic bush.
My mouth continued to lavish attention on her wonderful breasts, caressing, tonguing the sensuous skin of the whole globes while occasionally pouncing with mock ferocity on the nipples, which by now were jutting hungrily.
My fingers played through her pubic hair for a while before a seemingly tentative, but actually deliberate, finger, touched at the beginning of that ever fascinating crease, and at that moment her whole body tensed, and she jerked sideways.
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry.” she murmured. “It’s just—”
“It’s all right,” I soothed. “Time, you need time—and persuasion.”
My finger had not been dislodged byher sudden movement, and as I plied her with, what I hoped was, a reassuring smile I softly probed the little hood that was hiding her clit. At the same time I kissed her gently, my tongue tickling at the corners of her mouth.
With delicate circling movements I felt the hood shifting and the little hidden nub was under my finger. The dart of her tongue into my mouth told me I’d had the right effect.
Now was the time to increase the momentum. I disengaged my lips from her and tracked down over her smooth curves until I was licking around her belly button, and then on down to her mound.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. Without replying I removed my finger from its work and replaced it with the feather-light tip of my tongue. “What—oooh–” Was all she could manage.
I rested my hand on the inside of her thigh, that most perfect stretch of skin a woman possesses, while my tongue circled and licked her swelling clit, applying my mentor’s rule of ‘treating it like a sip of best wine.’
My hand felt the responsive twitching of her muscles, and I began moving it up and down her inner thigh, each upward sweep bringing me closer to her crevice. I was pleased to feel the impulsive parting of her thighs, as I listened to her ever-quickening breath.
Time to ensure this became her first recognition that she was not frigid.
Her hand reached across the bed to finger my pounding erection, Sensing the increasing quivering throughout her body, I quickened the lapping of my tongue on her clit, and allowed one upward stroke on her thigh to touch her labia, thin and dry to that first invasion.
Suddenly her body heaved up, her mound hard against my face, as her thighs parted in convulsive spasm, and she yelped, and
squealed out, “Oh, God. Do it. Do it, Jack.”
Her whole body was afire in the grip of the orgasm, her hand pulled at my cock, wanting it in her. But I had other ideas and continued, with some difficulty to mouth her clit, despite her frantic twisting and heaving. My finger trailed along her labia, finding it fuller and wetter, more ready.
Slowly her body relaxed and I raised my head to see her red face glaring down at me under a crown of tousled hair. “Why didn’t you—didn’t you—?” She stopped the accusation and groaned, “God, he never did that to me.”
“Touched you there?”
” Not with his tongue—his mouth—”
“Well, you aren’t frigid, that’s for sure.” I reassured her, and gently stroking her labia I added, “And now for further proof.”
I slid up alongside her and kissed her willing mouth, her tongue immediately probed mine, while I gently parted those pouting lower lips and inserted my finger into the wetness there.
Through our joined lips she mewed like a cat, as I stroked back and forth along the length of her now jutting, dripping labia. Her fingers
closed around my straining erection and her touch was more positive, more relaxed.
She broke our kiss to ask,” Do you like my touch?”
I told her it was good and asked her, “Did you ever take your husband in your mouth?”
She looked shocked,” Never. Is that what you want? I feel I owe you.”
I smiled at her concern,”No. Not necessary. This is your party and I think it’s time for the full reckoning.”
I moved over her and began to place my cock between her thighs, but she reached down and gave me a coy smile,” Let me do this. It’s me who wants it.”
And she took my cock in her hand, raised her hips and carefully placed my tip at her entrance. A gentle thrust and I was three inches in.
Slowly I withdrew and her face showed worry, but changed rapidly as I made my next thrust, deeper and firmer into her delicious wetness. I repeated the action, unhurriedly several times, until I felt the walls of her vagina beginning to pull at me, urging me on. I quickened my stroke, each time going deeper.
Listening to her quickening breath, seeing her eyes rolling, her head beginning to toss, I moved slightly upwards so that each stroke made contact along her clit and G spot. Faster and deeper until she began to gasp and heave against me.
In no time we were heaving against each other in a kind of desperate battle. I hauled her up so she was straddling me, moving herself up and down on my shaft.
“You, madam, are not frigid,” I whispered in her ear, and it was almost as though my words triggered her, for she gave a massive heave, and a loud screeching gasp as she collapsed backwards taking my full weight and full length into her.
As I burst forth I felt my cock head touch her cervix, and she moaned beneath me. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d pumped so much cum into a female. It seemed to go on and on and she rode along with it, her whole body heaving ecstatically.
When we finally calmed she lay with her head on my chest and said, “I’m so grateful, Jack. So very grateful.”
I think we both dozed for a few minutes but when I came around out of a dream in which an angel was lovingly treating my erect penis. Slowly I realised that it was no dream.
Dawn Soreen, the client I was paid to pleasure was busily mouthing my erection. Her fingers held my balls while her lips enveloped my whole shaft. “You don’t have to—” I began to gasp.
“I wanted to say thank you properly,” she said, then went back to licking and mouthing my cock.
I just lay there and thought, ‘If this is what being a gigolo meant I was certainly in the right business’
But there were hard lessons for me to learn as I plied my new trade.