“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” My client asks sheepishly as he creeps into my Jilly pad. I tell him “It’s the last room in the house.” He smiles as he makes a beeline straight to the back and closes the door behind him. I slowly make my way toward my bedroom where I hear him running water in the small bathroom I dream of renovating. I suppose he hasn’t done this before. I gather. Maybe he’s shy I tell myself as I fluff the pillows on my bed and check the music on my playlist to ensure there aren’t too many ’80s or classical songs lined up because I think this client needs something quiet and seggsy in the background. Now is not the time for the Go-go’s or Verdi and I pick a slow-burn playlist just in case he’s the type who needs coaxing. If you think what I do isn’t work then you’re sorrily mistaken. A man who I’ve only spoken to on the phone is now in my home and I have to be alert and ready for just about anything that could happen. So far, he’s just hiding in my bathroom, but when he comes out it’s showtime, and although I will be flirtatious and accommodating to him I’m sizing him up, looking at him backward and sideways for anything that might make me wonder if he’s anything other than just a regular dude looking for some fast pussy. Do this two or three times a day while fielding text messages, screening the ones that will fill out my Contact form, and creating content for Only Fans and you’ve got yourself an occupation. I take my time changing the playlist because he’s still in there. Ella Fitzgerald purrs “Cry Me A River” and I begin to float along the timber of her ethereal and eternally feminine vocals just as if I am transposing into a cloud rising now with the color of her genius and when I catch myself and come back down to earth it occurs to me that my client might not care for her music, but I do and I want to feel comfortable and soothed by something familiar because I’m getting nervous myself. Should I undress and lie seductively on the bed for when he reappears? Nah! Might scare the hell out of him and cause performance anxiety. I decide to sit upright on my bed in my black one-piece body suit with the snap crotch for easy access. My hair is freshly washed and styled. I smell like an angel. All I need is a man to keep me warm. Giggle… When I have too much time on my hands during a session my mind wanders and I jump to conclusions and assumptions about a stranger even though I know it’s a waste of time. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. So, we’re even. What I need is to put a cock into my mouth, but he’s thrown my groove off. Sigh. He finally steps out into the bedroom as I turn to greet him. Snapping out of it I ask him how his day is going and he replies “It’s going good.” He follows with “It just got better.” We both grin and look each other in the eye grateful that we are on the same page. I tell him to put his clothes on my director’s chair for safekeeping. As he undresses my eyes land on his bulge the way a man ogles a pair of great big titties at a wet tee shirt contest back in the day. I take note of the fact that his cock is weeping a little bit onto his navy blue boxer briefs. Good. He’s primed. I may have a touch of penis envy and I’ll be the first one to say that I’m addicted to cock just like the good Lord made me. Jesus and I talk about my issues sometimes and I usually walk away from the exchange feeling like I’m more self-aware and a work in progress, but just like my hometown pastor once said in a fiery sermon “The Lord wants to hear from his children and you can feel free to speak to him anytime and anywhere.” I think I speak with God more out of habit than sincere belief these days. Just feels right. I tell my client to lay on his tummy and I’ll massage his shoulders. His look of relief tells me that we will need to tread gently into this session and let him warm up. What the slut in me wants to do is to shove his BBC into my mouth and suck it hard like a frozen milkshake through a straw, and then pull the snaps on my one piece as I whip my hips around his head, lower my pussy onto his face while sucking him dry and grinding my flower all over his forehead, nose, and lips. Instead, I rub his shoulders, buttocks, and calves notice how tight he is, and strive hard to loosen him up as a song by Heart intrudes seductively:
"Come on home, girl," he said with a smile
You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile
But try to understand, try to understand
Try, try, try to understand, I'm a magic man.”
He flips over and touches my right hip softly. I ask him if he’d like a little oral and he says “That would be good.” I get onto my knees and straddle him taking my breasts into my hands. I reach for his hands and let him take over squeezing them and kneading them gently. As he fondles me I feel him growing harder down below me. He’s ready. Backing off of him I part his thighs and lay down on my belly between them. Taking a new cock into my mouth makes me feel like I’m home and I enjoy a deep sense of ease and comfort which I cannot explain. He gasps as I slide him into my hot little mouth and I begin to suck and suck, but not forcefully, but more as exploration. I’m trying to figure out who he is and a man naked, lying vulnerable in front of me is the best way. He touches my hair with his left hand and with his right bobs my head up and down his perfectly circumcised shaft. Several songs come and go on my playlist and while I’m completely engaged in our sex I’m also counting the songs because that’s how I keep track of time. I once read in an Eccie review that having a clock in the room is distracting for the client and the whore. It’s true. All you do is look at it because it’s there. So, I count songs not to be rude. He says “I want to eat you now.” I roll over onto my back and when he is positioned between my legs I reach for the snaps and my fluffy pussy springs forward right into his face. I like his gentleness and attention to detail. He’s creative and sexy and takes me in hand confidently and respectfully and I can tell he knows his way around a woman. He digs his tongue deeply into my flower hole and as he works to get me off he makes slurping noises and I grow wetter from his pleased hum. He looks into my eyes and says “I want to be inside you.” He helps me roll onto my side and I take a condom from the dresser. As I slip it onto his impressive member I notice how his cock continues weeping and as I handle him with my hands I feel semen surging under the skin. I lie back and he braces himself on top of my parted legs and pelvis. Entering me with a purposeful thrust he begins pounding me gently. I arch my back and he looks down at me but doesn’t kiss me. As he fucks me I feel how swollen his cock has become and it is almost too much for my tightness. I manage to squirt a little and that makes things easier for me. We continue like this for a while and I force my pussy up to meet him thrust for thrust. He’s about to cum and when he does he shudders and releases a desperate groan that shakes me to my core. When he recovers he sits on the edge of the bed and pants loudly. I say “You must have needed that.” He begins to tell me that he’s in the process of a divorce and that he woke up and felt like he needed “something” today. He told me it’s been a long time since he saw a prostitute and that he appreciated me being patient with him. His marriage had become sexless years ago and at some point, his wife didn’t care about sex or his pleasure. I told him I understood and that men going through a divorce wind up seeing women like me for various reasons such as encouragement and comfort. I think he just wanted to feel like a man again. As he cleaned up in the bathroom I put on a robe and asked him if he’d like a glass of water. He said, “I could use something to drink after that.” We both laughed and I turned toward the kitchen to get him a glass. We had a few more words to say to each other before he left and I remembered the men I’ve seen over the years who have come after years of no affection, looking for someone to see them and touch them. I’m a good place to start for some who need a friendly face. I can help you find a little confidence and give you some bucking up when you’ve had a long dry spell. As he left he gave me a sweet hug and said “Thank you.” I guess all that time in the bathroom when he first arrived was necessary. It had been a while since he had had sex and it isn’t easy even when you’re with a sure thing like me.
