Confession of an Escort
I thought readers of Lush Stories might like to hear about my escapades as an escort. It wasn’t something I ever intended to do, but opportunities arose to make life exciting. I thoroughly enjoyed having sex with wealthy married men at the time, and it changed my cozy, but boring life style to one of almost daily adrenaline and sexual highs.
Let me tell you what a twenty-five year old married woman did with her time, if her husband was extravagantly wealthy, children were not planned for the near future, she had no intellectual interests, and didn’t do volunteer work. Why, of course, she did pottery, it was an interesting activity that required a creative touch and lots of time away from home. I learned quickly especially slab pottery; I didn’t like to work the wheel. I loved playing in clay and making small bowls and utensils for use in kitchens or around the home. Petite items were fun and didn’t take long to make. As I finished a number of pieces I laid them on the drying shelf. I removed several other already dry samples from my ledge, and took them to the kiln for bisque firing. Other items having already been bisque fired were finalized by glazing them in time for a final firing. The emergence of a second fired piece was exciting especially when my work was praised by studio members. This kind of thrill also became humdrum. I wasn’t completely satisfied. I needed; I wanted something else.
One Friday in late August I had lunch with Angie a friend of mine. She told me she fucked wealthy men for money and said with my looks, tits, legs and ass; I could be making a hundred thousand a year. It sounded intriguing, but I didn’t know about cheating on my husband. She said that was part of the thrill and excitement. You might get caught, but you also can have a lot of fun. Just think how exhilarating it is meeting a man for the first time and allowing him to use your assets for his pleasure, and if you’re lucky for your enjoyment too. Each new client is an adventure. I get a sexual high that doesn’t wear off for hours, and I’ve been doing this for six months.”
“I don’t know if I could have sex with a stranger.”
Angie laughed. “Were you a virgin when you married Stan?”
“No! Why would you ask me a question like that?”
“Before you met Stan did you have any one night stands?”
“Yes, of course. Didn’t everyone?”
“There’s no difference between one night stands and being an escort except for the money.”
“But I’m married.”
“Yes you’re married and bored out of your tree like me. I can line you up with the lady who runs my service, and she can tell you all about it. Woops, look at the time. I have an appointment in thirty minutes. In about two hours, I’ll be a thousand dollars richer. Give me a call if you’re interested.” Angie with her good looks and great body hurried from the restaurant.
For two weeks I played with clay, made a variety of pieces, had them dry and then bisque fired. I decorated them with a variety of glazes, and fired them for the last time, removed them from the kiln, and prepared them for display and sale was challenging and fun, but I couldn’t get Angie’s words out of my mind, ‘I fuck wealthy men for money.’
I loved sex, but have no need for money because my husband is generous and was a bull in bed. While the bull was satisfying he doesn’t change his approach, and even good sex becomes stale after a while. The question was do I want to cheat on Stan for the sheer pleasure of recreational sex? Angela said it was exciting and fun. I remembered how thrilling it was while in college being hit on by a handsome stud and allowing him to seduce me. I can imagine having sex with a good-looking wealthy man. All sex is good only
some is better than others. I’m satisfied with my husband, but I need more stimulation in my life. Even though I enjoy pottery making; it doesn’t satisfy me the way sex does.
I call Angela and made an appointment to talk with Ruthie, the owner-manager of the Atlanta Escort Service. Ruthie told me how the business operated: the pluses and minuses. She showed me the earnings of some of her escorts, and pictures of some of her clients. She told me I could have as many as ten clients a week within a month.
“You have everything a wealthy man looks for; you’re beautiful, have a nice personality, great tits, a nice ass and shapely legs. When would you like to start? I can set you up with this gentleman;” she indicated a picture. “He’s got money coming out the kazoo, and the girls who’ve been with him say he’s kind and gentle in bed with great love-making skills. He has great penal control and endurance. For an hour or so you can make a thousand bucks. What do you say, when do you want to start?”
I hesitated thinking of how much I loved my husband and how much pleasure he gave me, but it’s not as stirring as it was when we were first together. Even though pottery making is challenging and fun, and I enjoy working in the studio with other women I’m still not satisfied. If I do this I’ll be committing adultery. It’s a criminal act. I’ll be sharing my most intimate space with men I don’t know. I promised to be faithful to my husband. Angie says it’s exciting and with each client she gets an adrenaline rush. I looked at Ruthie: she smiled and held up a picture of the handsome man probably in his early forties whose smile was dazzling.
I made a snap decision. “Okay, set me up with him sometime next week. I’ll talk to Angie about what to wear.”
* * *
I rode the elevator to the eleventh floor of the St. Regis Hotel. I wore a blue business suit with a pink blouse and three inches heels. Underneath I had a white bra and thong. My body was shaved and waxed, and I used perfume with a fruity scent. I looked like a professional business women.
I was scared, nervous, and excited all at the same time. I haven’t been with another man since I met Stan, and I was afraid I won’t know how to act. I couldn’t stop thinking about committing adultery or having sex with a stranger. I did have some one night stands in college. This won’t be any different.
The elevator stopped, I stepped into the hall, and walked hesitantly until I got to room 1177. I tapped on the door. It opened almost immediately. Standing in front of me was the face I’d seen in Ruthie’s office. He’s taller than I remembered. He’s dressed in a business suit.
“Mr. Wade, I’m Kelly Rhodes.”
“Come in Kelly.” He guided me into the living room decorated in hues of cream, taupe and mineral green that created a soothing space made even more inviting with original artwork and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I observed his athletic body and confident walk as he continued into the kitchen.
“Would you care for a drink?” He held up a bottle.
“Yes, please.” I held my sweating hands in front of my groin.
“This is my favorite Moscato. Is that okay?”
“Yes that’s fine.” I watched him pour the wine with expertise.
“You much more that I expected.” He half-filled two flutes.
“Thank you.” I extended my quivering hand to take the wine.
“Ruthie tells me I’m your first client, and I’m more than pleased to introduce you to your new life style.” He sipped on his wine, surveyed me closely, and indicated for me to sit.
“Are you usually this quiet?”
“N…no I’m nervous and scared.” I down about half my wine in one gulp.
“There’s no reason for anxiety. Drink your wine while I show you the view and the other rooms.” He walked confidently to a small Juliette balcony to reveal Atlanta’s stunning skyline.
“It’s beautiful. I’m always amazed at the size and height of the buildings. Atlanta is an architect’s dream.”
“You have a keen eye. Would you like more wine?” He refilled both our glasses.
Continuing the tour I inspected two elaborate bedrooms with king-size beds and a living area with two large couches and several arm chairs. By the time I examined the Empire Suite I had consumed three glasses of wine and felt the effects on an empty stomach.
Back in the living area he sat in a large lounge chair and asked, “Would you undress for me please?”
I hesitated, thinking of running from the room, but I remained steadfast and removed my outer garments one at a time.
“Please remove your bra and thong too please?” He watched and sipped his drink. “You’re beautiful. I seldom see a body as fine as yours.” He stood and undressed.
I felt shy standing naked in from of a man I met only minutes before. I held by hands in front of my recently shaved and waxed pussy. I watched the handsome well built man disrobe. He wasn’t hairy like Stan except around his large erection. I wondered what he’ll request next, and asked, “Please no kissing?”
I smiled. “Not on the lips.”
“Good because I’m kissing you every other place. Please come and sit on my lap.” He sat in a large lounge chair with his arms opened.
I sat on his knees.
He pulled me to him until his cock nestled in the middle of my back, and held me upright with his left arm.
He kissed under my ear and down my neck. His right hand ran along the side of my breast. “You’re so warm, soft, and smooth.”
I shivered at the kisses and tensed as his hand caressed my tit. He continued kissing my neck and shoulder and moved his hand along the edge of my orb. I was happy with his unhurried skill.
“There’s no reason for tension. I’m going to treat you better than your husband.”
His hand cupped and squeezed my breast; I froze.
“How do you know I’m married?” I asked in shock from the question and his hand teasing my boob.
“There’s a ring mark on you left finger.” He shifted in the seat his shaft leaked precum on my back.
I shuddered as he kissed the top of my breasts and moved the palm of his hand over my nipple. Thrills rushed through my body. I didn’t expect to feel this way.
He pulled me back and kissed his way down the sides of my globes.
“You have a nice scent and your breasts are stunning.”
I didn’t want to respond, but his mouth kissing my nipple was lovely. I sighed as he sucked a teat into his mouth and ran his tongue over and around it. The feeling was heavenly. His hand slide down my stomach and fingered my pubic hair. It tickled and I giggled. I’m doing this for the money not for pleasure, but his gentle technique aroused me. I spread my legs, and moaned when he ran his talented fingers up and down my moist slit. He applied pressure to my nipple and slipped his finger between my vulva lips. I arched my back at the delight of his invading finger.
“You’re very responsive. I like that.”
His fingers slide deeper into me, then two, then three. He slowly pushed them in and out of my channel. The entire time he nursed on my nub. I tried to hold back, but his fingers and mouth aroused me more and more. I grabbed him by the neck and pulled myself to a position where he could draw my other nipple into his succulent mouth and he touched my clit as I fell back to his arm. His finger didn’t stop moving up and down, back and forth, and around and around. I groaned out of my depths. I felt the onset of an orgasm. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I said just before my arousal moved past its peak, and I erupted in a glorious climax.
I felt myself rise and float in space. He placed me on a bed. I heard the foil of a condom separating. He crawled between my legs. I guided him to my opening and arched my back so he could more easily enter. It was wonderful. His cock filled me and touched all of my nerve endings. He stroked me slowly and repeatedly. My eyes closed and I concentrated on the feelings emanating from my core and radiating throughout my body. I was committing adultery and loving every inch of it.
He stopped and rose on his hands smiling down at me. “Are you all right?”
“More than all right,” I said opening my eyes enjoying his smile, and his movements in my pussy.
“I’m going to feast on your breasts.”
His face disappeared and I trembled as he sucked on one nipple. He stopped and stroked me a few times, and dropped his mouth to my other teat. This routine continued for I don’t know how long, but I was in paradise: my canal was throbbing and my breasts smoldering. He fell to my body, increased his pace, and rammed me until I surrendered to ecstasy and erupted in an electrifying orgasm.
He dropped to my side, and I laid leaking fluids all over the bed savoring a great fuck. * * *
I was ecstatic with my first client and his sexual behavior. I was even more pleased when he booked me for his next trip to Atlanta.
Ruthie was right about my becoming popular. By the end of my first month I had two clients a day on my schedule. None of them measured up to my husband or Carl Wade, but meeting and fucking each new client was exciting and often pleasurable. I never knew in advance what they wanted other than sex, some simply wanted to fuck, others wanted fellatio, some were into cunnilingus, and the number of positions I’d been fucked in must be close to all of those found in the Kama Sutra. None of them have been rough; they left no tell-tale signs of sex on my body, and they followed my no kiss rule. In addition, my secret bank account grew substantially.
My husband didn’t suspect anything awry,
because I continued to bring home my clay pieces and my improvement as a potter was evident. In the bedroom, he was as loving as always. He was a little surprised at my willingness and improved ability to give him a blow job. Last night, after having served two clients earlier in the day, he came home horny. We kissed for a long time,
something I miss with my clients. We went down on each other and his tongue brought me to an eruptive orgasm. He placed me in the female superior position. I straddled him and impaled myself on his beautiful cock, going bareback was wonderful. His gorgeous shaft caressed every recess and cleft in my vagina. I rode him with vigor, and he enthusiastically sucked my nipples. His control was better than usual, and I wore myself out sliding up and down on his cock. I stopped and stared down at his handsome face and hairy chest. He was a knock out that any woman would want as a husband. I certainly did, even though I’d cheated on him. I rolled my hips in circles first to the left and then to the right, and I see the delight in his eyes as my breasts swing with me. He placed his thumb on my clit. My movements on his thumb brought me to the pinnacle of arousal, and I exploded on top of him. Moving in all directions at the same time brought him to his peak, he raised his hips and pushed his cock deep into me and we climaxed together.
* * *
My husband took me to the Bahamas’ for a week vacation. I enjoyed doing all the touristy things, shopping, eating at great restaurants, and dancing the night away at awesome clubs. I had a great time having sex at least once a day but usually more. I never once thought about my clients or the money they provided. Being alone with my husband for a week was a break I needed. I rediscovered the importance of intimacy when having sex with a husband who loved me. I didn’t miss going to bed with someone who only cared about fucking a beautiful well-built blonde. The vacation was wonderful.
I knew my pottery partners would be glad to see me. I decided to quit the escort business. The stimulation of having sex with a large number of wealthy gentlemen and acquiring money was not in the same realm with the week I spent with my husband. I didn’t feel any regrets about retiring from being an escort.
* * *
I’m shocked when I find a newspaper lying at my place at the dinner table when I came home from the ceramic studio. The headline read:
Up-scale Escort Service Raided by Police.
The madam, Ruthie Oliver, was arrested and charged with being
the owner of a brothel. She faces a five thousand dollar fine and a
year in prison. A list of her escorts is found near the end of this article.
I quickly turned to the page where the article continued, and I saw my name, Kelly Rhodes, in yellow. My husband knew. My hearts sunk, my stomach knotted, my legs buckled; I sat with my elbows on the table, my face in my hands, and tears ran down my cheeks.
I confess I enjoyed the adoration of a host of men, the excitement of having sex with most of them, performing in a large number of sexual positions, and, of course, I liked the fact I have over a hundred thousand dollars in the bank. However, I could have even more money and a great sex life if my marriage hadn’t dissolved in scandal. The settlement provided me with nothing, but a few possessions and my clothes. The only things I have left are a college degree and a face and body for which men were willing to pay a high price. Maybe, I’d find another man who’d marry me, love me for my looks, great breasts, shapely ass, athletic legs, and willing cunt.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
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