Luckily for me she did, cumming shortly afterwards, her entire body shaking as a high-pitched scream escaped from her throat.
A few seconds later, I came too, pulling my cock out of her asshole and shooting my seed all over her back, drenching it in white, a couple of the bursts reaching her neck.
“Goddamit that was fucking good,” Natalie said, flipping onto her back.
“Hell yeah it was,” I said, dropping onto the bed next to her.
“You liked it, huh?” she said.
“I fucking loved it,” I replied. “I only wish I could have lasted longer with my cock in your ass.”
“Next time,” she said, leaning over and giving me a kiss. “Next time I’ll get more warmed up before hand and get some lubed involved. That should loosen things up a bit and let you fuck my ass for a while longer before cumming all over me.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, marveling once again at my luck in someone finding Natalie.
“You ready for a shower?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Are you?”
She nodded. We stood up.
“Did you decide what you want me to do for forcing you to stick your cock in my ass?” Natalie asked as we made our way to the bathroom.
“Actually, I did,” I said.
“And what was it?”
“You’ll find out after we get ourselves all cleaned up,” I said, flashing her a grin.
“What about dinner?” she said.
“That can wait.”
“It’s that good, huh?” Natalie said, peering at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh yeah,” I replied. “It’s a doozy.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.”
#####
HIGH CLASS WHORE
For those of you who don’t already know, I love escorts. For many reasons, but mostly because you always know what you’re getting. Namely, laid. Without any hassle, without any bullshit, without the slightest worry. Just a phone call and a few hundred dollars and you can make any of your wildest fantasies a reality. One of the few certainties in an increasingly uncertain world. That being said, even a complete control freak like myself occasionally likes a little uncertainty. Not enough to wonder about whether or not I’m going to get laid, mind you, but sometimes I don’t want to know beforehand exactly how the night is going to go. Believe it or not, every once in a while, even I like a little mystery. So on this night, when I call that special number I tell the familiar voice on the other side of the line that I don’t have a specific preference for that night. Looks, attitude, style, body type; it doesn’t matter. Surprise me. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but for me that’s going out on a limb. Curious to hear how it turns out? Then continue on.
I’m just finishing my fourth Jack and Coke when the doorbell rings. I jump up and head towards the door, more excited than usual to see what I have waiting for me. Usually I take a nice long look out of the peephole to satisfy my curiosity—not to mention make sure I like what I see before I let them in my hotel room—but on this night I decide to continue with the uncertainty theme and open the door without taking a look.
As I watch her enter the room my uncertainty grows even further. I’m a creature of habit, and even though there’s a certain level of variation with the girls I order, it’s generally superficial; their hair color, the size of their boobs, their personalities, that sort of thing. At their core, the girls are always very similar. They’re young, they play up their slutty side, and their bodies are either tall and athletic or small and petite. That’s just the way I like them. But not this girl. She’s different.
First of all, she’s older. 27, maybe 28. Not old by any means but older than what I’m used to. Second, she’s got enormous tits. Practically the size of my head. Not that this is a bad thing, mind you, but again, it’s different. She’s very tall—practically my height even without heels—and built like a brick shithouse. She not fat, not even close, but she’s definitely healthy, from her huge rack to her midsection to her relatively large (but admittedly sexy) ass to her powerful, figure-skater legs. She’s wearing normal clothes; blue jeans, a partially open leather jacket revealing a black bra underneath and black shoes. She’s got a gorgeous face, with big brown eyes, full lips and long, wavy brown hair. Her makeup is subtle, accentuating her features but not drowning them, making her look more like a movie star than a slutty escort, which there’s absolutely nothing wrong with, it’s just not what I’m used to.
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” she says in a slightly scratchy, smoky voice. The smirk on her face implies that she’s not bothered at all by this, merely amused.
One of the best things about hiring escorts is you don’t have to worry about lying to save their feelings. It’s much easier to tell the truth to a woman when you’re paying for her services.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I say. “I’m just . . . uncertain.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re just different, that’s all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and all, you’re just not what I’m used to.”
“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? You wanted to try something a little different, right? At least, that’s what I was told.”
“Actually, it is.”
“So why are you stressing over it?” she says. “You’re getting what you wanted, right?
