Tales of a Mature Prostitute Ch. 05

Hello again,

At last there is some peace and quiet after a busy spell of ups and downs and time to do a little more writing. As I mentioned to several people who emailed me, I thought that some readers might be interested to hear about encounters with couples, of which there have only been a few. (From what I read on various blogs, a number of escorts are reporting that "couple-calls" are on the increase with some saying it is around 10% of their business. I wish I could say the same and I have modified my advertising -- let's see what happens.) Before I tell you more, I think I must offer a little about my background, an extract from my sexual CV or resume, in order to provide some context.

It was back in the late 1960's when I was introduced to wife-swapping, as it was then termed, and I had my first serious encounters with women. Many of the "swapped" wives were not at all bi-sexual but most would accept a little physical intimacy as part of proceedings. And then there were a few, including me, who were as much interested in the other wife as in the husband. One of them with whom I had a short fling, an actress, later made a name for herself on British TV. With another I had a 1-to-1 relationship that lasted for several years and, since then, there have probably been as many women in my life as men.

Today in my personal life, my favourite sexual activity is to join with a certain couple that I have known for several years.

*

The three couple-calls I've taken led to four sessions and were all from people on vacation (I live in a small resort town). On the first call it was the wife who spoke and she was very specific in describing what she wanted. Clearly, it wasn't the first time she had hired someone like me.

I met them in their hotel room where she greeted me dressed in a bathrobe. She was quite tall, at least in comparison to me, gaunt and probably in her 50's. Her demeanour confirmed what I had gathered from her call: that she was used to being in charge. I imagined people got used to doing her bidding. She handed over my fee and ushered me into the room where her husband, also in a bathrobe, was sitting in a corner, just as she'd told me he would be. He greeted me with a smile and a nod, and with no more ado the wife asked me to undress. She looked me over, said I was very nice, then removed her bathrobe to reveal her own nakedness and guided me to the bed.

From there things progressed just as she had described which amounted to her playing with my body whilst her husband fucked her. I lay on my back with her straddling me and her hands began to wander, stroking and squeezing and exploring. It was very impersonal, much like an examination, and she made no effort to arouse me, but it seemed to turn her on.

After a short time she was down at the bottom of the bed on her knees between my legs and spreading my pussy, no licking just fingers, and that is when her husband came into the picture. Gradually he entered her from the rear and began at a slow pace. At this point she was resting on her elbows and she asked me to play with myself. Both of them had a clear view of me and before very long he was pumping into her quite vigorously and she was grunting and groaning. She had a hand rubbing between her legs and her gaze was fixed on me so it was easy to tell when she started to cum and I pretended to do the same. Her husband followed very soon after.

The whole thing had lasted barely half an hour but they seemed happy enough and for the first time I saw her actually smile. I was more than happy to get back home.

The second couple-call led to two sessions with a middle-aged man and wife, both somewhat over-weight and not especially attractive. My role was little more than being a hand maiden, letting them see my body, playing with the husband's cock while he fingered her and then getting my hand between them to hold it while he fucked her. It was quite awkward because of his plump stomach and small cock, and all I could do was grip him between the V of two fingers; even then there was no real depth of penetration. It would have been far better if he'd taken her from behind. When he was ready to cum he pulled out and I jerked him off which seemed to please him well enough. The wife was very indifferent, not surprisingly because it was all about him, but at least she acknowledged my efforts in a kindly way.

A follow-up session with them was mutual masturbation, the three us watching each other play with ourselves. The wife was much happier this time and talked a lot more. She used a vibrator on her herself and offered one to me but I said that I preferred fingers. We sat in a triangle, the husband perched on the side of the bed and the wife and myself in chairs. Obviously, I was the centre of attention because that is what they had paid for. If you have read some of my earlier tales, you will know that it is a performance that I am well accustomed to giving, though very rarely for a female spectator.

So now let me get to Deborah and Paul and I'll describe what happened in more detail because it was a session that I enjoyed a lot. Paul made the call and explained that he and his wife were on vacation, that her greatest fantasy was to have an older woman make love to her and "take her lesbian virginity". They had seen my advert in the local paper, thought that I sounded a little different to the others and perhaps Deborah's moment had arrived. Would I be interested?

Yes, of course I was interested but how would he fit in to things? He said he would be there, just to hold her hand, if that was OK by me, and he understood from my advert what the limits were and had no intention of even approaching them; it was about her, not him. I agreed a fee with him and that I would meet them in the bar of their hotel but I wasn't happy that all the boxes had been ticked. Paul, with an English accent, sounded like a nice man but it had all been a bit too perfunctory for such an important event for Deborah so I asked to speak to her.

Straight away, I was struck by her lovely, soft, North American voice and she told me she was from Vancouver. I said that Paul had told me what they had mind, which of course she would have overheard, and that it was not unusual (though in truth it was for me in a professional context) and I would love to meet her. I went on to suggest that I felt it was important that she took a liking to me and that it might be best for both of us if she could check me out without any commitment. She seemed to understand exactly what I was getting at so I suggested I would appear at the hotel bar, sit at the counter and they could stay anonymous. If she liked me then she could approach me, if not they could walk away. I could have a drink with them and at that stage she would still have the option to back out. She was concerned about wasting my time but I persuaded her that it would really be best for both of us because if we weren't comfortable together then it would not be much fun. In the end she agreed providing that I would also feel free to walk away.

Two days later, at the appointed hour of 8.00pm, on a warm evening, I entered the South Beach Resort and Spa Hotel, probably the best in the area. I walked through the foyer and out across the pool deck which led to the patio of the bar with its busy tables. I'd given Deborah a description and added that I would have a turquoise and orange bracelet on my right wrist and be wearing loose fitting light pants -- pretty standard evening resort wear. I avoided looking around except to choose a spot at the bar counter, declined to order a drink and wondered how long I would have to wait for Paul and Deborah to make their evaluation of me. Thankfully, it was perhaps less than a minute before I sensed a woman in a pink dress approaching from my right and then heard a soft Canadian voice asking if I was Gabby.

She introduced herself with a nice smile, and then led me to their table out on the patio. I was introduced to Paul who was tall and slim, bespectacled, and reminded me of a youngish Michael Caine. He called the waiter and I ordered a glass of Chardonnay (which always reminds me of Sue Ellen). If they were feeling nervous, they had enough savoir-faire for it not to be evident and we slipped into an easy conversation about their vacation.

I placed them in their late-30's/early-40's, probably professional people and certainly well-educated. They had clearly been enjoying the sun and had lost that city greyness which would identify them as visitors. Deborah especially had picked up colour, her arms and legs looking nicely tanned.

She was about my height with something of an athletic posture and she obviously cared about her physical condition. Something about her features, especially the shape of her eyes, and perhaps the line of her jaw gave her an unusual ethnic look which I found intriguing and very attractive. She wore only a touch of make-up around her eyes and a light lipstick on lips that I was imagining and hoping soon to be kissing. The pink dress was nicely styled and detailed, and revealed very little, mainly because her breasts were rather small. Her hair was dark brown, naturally wavy and shoulder length, mane-like, and she occasionally pushed away imaginary strands from her face, maybe a tell tale sign of her true feelings.

As the drinks were gradually emptied, I felt that Deborah had become a little quieter and I sensed that she was stealing herself. To my surprise, at a pause in the conversation, she took the initiative and said that, if it was OK with me, she would like us to go up the room. I think it took Paul by surprise as well. Clumsily, he reached to his back pocket and took out an envelope but I told him that it wasn't necessary. Perhaps for a moment Deborah thought I might be declining so I touched her arm and said that I didn't want to wait any longer either.

In their room, the air-con had been on full-blast and the place was freezing. I suggested we turn it off and open the doors on to the balcony, and Paul complied. I took Deborah by the hand, led her outside and we stood together for a moment looking down on the pool and out over the sea beyond. It was a perfect setting.

Deborah and I looked at each other and I noticed a tear roll down her cheek. I took her in my arms and she let out a sob then took a deep breath. She said she was OK, not upset, just the emotion of finally being in the situation that she had imagined for so long. Paul was close enough to be aware of his wife's state and seemed to want to get involved but I shooed him away telling him everything was fine.

With a little hugging and some tentative kisses she regained her composure and our kisses became deeper and longer. Our tongues engaged in that languid circling dance and I began to explore her with my hands. She was even slimmer and more toned than I had imagined and I told her so. I told her everything I was feeling, about her mouth, about her body, about her perfume, her voice, and the sensuality of it all. And then I asked if I could undress her because I wanted to see her and feel her skin to skin, and she murmured a "yes"

First I pulled my top off and discarded my bra and then I reached around her and unzipped the back of her dress. I eased it off her shoulders and over her slender hips and it fell to the ground. If anyone down below was looking up at that balcony, they would surely have witnessed a very erotic little scene. But I wasn't interested in anyone else's view, just my own view of Deborah, naked but for a silky red thong.

I took a step back to take her in, knowing she would feel vulnerable but vulnerability can be erotic and arousing. She was very thin, too thin to be classically beautiful, and angular as well. Her breasts were small but rounded, pert with only a hint of a sag and showing the tan lines of a bikini top. There was no trace of a tummy bulge and her thighs looked strong and capable, almost out of place against her slenderness. To my mind it was the body of dancer. I loved its elegance and I told her so. I had a thought to ask her to turn around but decided against.

While all of this was happening, Paul had been perched on the edge of the large bed looking quite mesmerised, doubtless beginning to see his wife in a whole new light. As I guided her back into the room, he got to his feet, took her face in his hands and kissed her, telling her that she was amazing. It was very sweet.

I suggested he might want to get comfortable and lose some clothes, and that he might like to sit in the chair in the corner of the room. From my handbag I took out the indispensable little bottle of baby oil and placed it on the bedside table then pulled back the bedcover (you never know who has done what on hotel bedcovers), slipped off my pants and panties, and held out an inviting hand for Deborah to join me on the cool white sheets.

We lay together side by side, kissing, murmuring and caressing. I had her lick my fingers, telling her that they were going to explore her body in the most intimate of ways. I got her to taste my tongue because it, too, was going to find its way into all of her crevices. As well, I told her not to be afraid to guide me, to stop me if it became too much, to ask for more when she wanted it.

Her hands were tentative as she touched me, stroking my arms and shoulders but not sure about where else they might travel. Maybe I was distracting her because my hands were wandering further: the ribs by the side of her breast, her waist, the hip bones -- yes, she liked it there. I freed myself from our embrace and eased her on to her back so that I could really get to explore her. How sensitive were her breasts -- mostly around the upper half; her nipples -- yes, she liked to have them sucked; her tummy, so lean and smooth -- my stroking made her purr; the crease between body and thigh -- a steady rubbing that stretched her skin was getting to her; that area of lower abdomen, just above the pubic bone -- that really caused her hips to rise.

I straddled her and leant forward, offering my breasts to her mouth and she duly gave attention to my nipples, licking one, then the other and, with a little encouragement, sucking on them in turn. I felt her hands on my waist, a light touch, still unsure, but this wasn't so much about me as about her.

Cat-like, I crawled down her body, caressing her skin with my nipples and tongue, over her breasts, her waist, her tummy and her thighs until I was at the bottom of the bed where I slid down to kneel on the floor. Time to remove the red thong and she raised her hips so I could free it and slide it down those well-shaped legs. Paul was sitting quite close to me, now wearing just a pair of briefs and I threw the thong to him with a smile.

Back on the bed, I crawled back by her side and reached for the baby oil. With a slather of it in my palm, I put my hand between her thighs and covered her pussy. She trembled at the touch, took a deep breath and looked at me with wide eyes. I told her I was going to give her a very slow rubbing and then kissed her face and mouth. Her eyes closed and her legs parted, and I began to work on her inner thighs and around her outer lips. There was very little hair and no stubble, just a trimmed landing strip, so my fingers could massage her smoothly along the outer crevices.

She was responding readily, grinding against my hand with thighs partially closing then opening again. Her breathing was deep and she was moaning a lot but I kept a steady pace, taking my time to prolong things for her.

I was very close to her face and could see her perspiration, and it wasn't the only part of her that was dripping. She told me she was very close to cumming so it seemed like a good time to go down on her but I wasn't going to rush. If her arousal subsided a little, I was sure I would be able to build it up again because at that point I had hardly touched her clit. I got her to move down the bed so she was at the very edge and I could kneel on the floor between her legs. I told Paul to come and hold her and play with her tits, and I got the chance to take a close look at her pussy.

I don't think there is a woman alive who hasn't wanted to hear that she is beautiful down there so I gave her a description, in glowing terms, of everything I could see. For you, dear reader, I will give you a more objective view though don't think she was anything but delightful and delicious! She was very wet, swollen and open, especially the outer lips where I had given her so much attention, and she was very red around there. The inner lips were quite small and crinkly and very spread to reveal the pinkest of openings. The stem of her clit was hard but only the tiniest of pale tips was visible. Gently I pushed back the hood which exposed a couple of millimetres at most. I gave it the slightest of flicks with the very tip of my tongue and she responded instantly, almost recoiling -- clearly she was extremely sensitive. If I possessed a cock, at that very moment I would have been unable to resist thrusting it into her, but instead I had to make do with a finger. Again she didn't seem to like that too much, not unlike a lot of women. (Perhaps I will try to explain that at another time.)

Whilst all of this was taking place I kept an eye on Paul. He was half lying behind her with her head resting close to his stomach and his hands lightly on her breasts. When I caught his eye he smiled and nodded which I took as an indication that all was well.

Knowing where to avoid, I started to work on her again, this time with my tongue as well as my hands and her response was to purr with pleasure. Not surprisingly she tasted of pussy flavoured baby oil, not unpleasantly so, as I licked at the inner folds and around the stem of her clit. I used my hands to caress her inner thighs with my thumbs stretching down to graze the soft flesh of her bottom and to continue the stimulation of her outer lips. She especially seemed to like it when my tongue passed over her little pee hole.

As I increased the pressure and pace of my licking, her hips began to rise from the bed and we found a mutual rhythm, almost as if we were fucking. Hoping to take her over the edge, I placed my whole mouth over the area of her clit and, without touching the tip with my tongue, I sucked in pulses so that her clit was popping in and out of its sheath. It worked for her and, after the long build-up, her climax came quickly with strong convulsions, trembling thighs and a lot of gasping.

Before her orgasm could resolve, I told Paul to come and take my place between her legs and he didn't need a second invite. He was quickly out of his briefs and a nicely sized cock was standing to attention. I had only the merest moment to get a feel of it as he positioned it against her slit and, with one quick thrust, went all the way into her. It was the right thing to do -- this was no time for smoochy, squelchy, wiggling around.

As for Deborah, I don't think she really knew what was happening until he started the fucking. I took over Paul's position on the bed, holding her and sensing the power of her arousal. I don't know if she actually came a second time or if it was one long continuation but by the time he was done, which wasn't long, I would say it was the latter and I think she would too.

As things started to calm down, I had the sense that it would be best to leave them to themselves and their private moments so I went to the bathroom to dry-off before wandering out onto the balcony. I thought to myself that I had given Deborah what she had asked for and hopefully a little more. For me, I had used her body, taken every pleasure from her sensuous flesh, felt all of the exhilaration that came from evoking her lust and desire, then giving her the final release. And if you have ever held a woman whilst she is being fucked, then you will know how great a turn-on that can be. For all of that, it had been a very one-sided affair and an ego trip was of no use in quelling my own state of arousal. I would have loved to be taken, just as Deborah had been but it wasn't to be -- it kind of goes with the territory when you are in my shoes (which is not to say that I don't have my moments).