Thursday, May 28, 2009

The enchanted fuck

With her pussy slightly overhanging the bed, limbs spreading like a resting moth, I shoved my penis into her vagina, trying to reach the deepest part where no men of my size had ever reached before, one stroke at a time, with all the time in the world in between.

As I got deeper between her legs, I could bend a little forward to take a good look at her face, starting from her eyes. But she looked right back at me. Immediately I wasn't looking at her eyes, but into her eyes. Our eyes locked, so seemed the electromagnetic field around us, with no possibility of escape for the light wave bouncing between our lens.

She wasn't smiling. I never saw her smiling but there was nothing sad about her. She wasn't pretending anything as she is a no-nonsense girl. She just looked right back into my eyes. I didn't think she was thinking about anything special. Neither did I. My deep penetrating movement became robotic. I didn't see anything. Perhaps we were looking into each other's soul, which were blank at the moment. The dim room light was very atmospheric. She never thought of the need to turn off or tone down the light.

It could have been the best encouragement I ever had. I was very willing to give it all to her without enjoying any other position. But my consciousness came back when I remembered her ass like this. I pulled out and made a circle with my index finger.

Betty was eager to please without smiling. She turned over into a doggy position, keeping her pussy slightly overhanging the bed, so I could stood where I was. Betty even had better skin than Ariel. I knew I couldn't hold it for long, so I rushed her into the sky diving position by pushing her a little while pulling her legs. But I was a little surprised that she resisted.

I could have done many things but I was hooked to her eyes. So I pulled her back to the overhanging moth position precisely, like putting a baby right on top of her diaper. I got more addicted as time went on, penetrating her pussy and soul at the same time. I moved back and forth faster and faster while our eyes were absolutely locked.

I was very willing to end it that way. But she was so wonderful that I couldn't resist to touch and feel her more. Kissing wasn't included so I kissed her cheek, a very wet one, but I was careful not to overdo it, because I was afraid that she would give me the what-the-fuck stare, instead of the enchanted stare. Then I stacked on top of her, pressed my chest hard against her big boobs as I penetrated her, and pressed my cheek hard against hers. I was expecting rejection but she didn't push. I did hear a few heavy breath, but probably she couldn't control her excitement. XD. Next, I flooded her. But I wasn't stopping. I continued until I squeezed the last drop into the condom, still pressing hard against her chest and cheek. I was totally enchanted.

At a little distance away, Betty looked like a tall American school girl. She had a neck length straight dangling blob. Her causal top was a cross between a T-shirt and a vest. And she wore a causal short or hot pants. At close up, there is nothing school girl about her. She is a fully grown woman with big breast and big ass, which did not need any support! Her outfit was causal, fit but nowhere near tight. Her short was probably rectangular, but her full ass made it looked like a pentagon. She stood beautifully on a pair of long full legs and a pair of undersized causal flop-flips.

When I first see an escort's face, usually it's a sign of relieve, that she didn't show her face pictures not because she wasn't attractive. In a split second I can tell that I can and want to do her for the asking price. Or I can tell that her face looked OK and I should concentrate on her gorgeous body. Or that her face is sweet, or full of character fit to be a model. But deep down, or superficially, I want a beautiful face, more specifically a doll like face, perfectly shaped, with perfect features, so perfect that you don't remember a thing about her, as all dolls are alike.

I can't tell you what Betty looked like, except that her hair is thin and short, hiding nothing. For that she can be a mannequin. The shape of her face is flawless to the degree of forgettable, which can launch very spectacular features. Similarly, I couldn't tell you about her nose and mouth, even though I watched her blowing and sucking me for a few minutes, except that there are absolutely nothing wrong about them.

Her face was perfectly cleansed, void of any makeup. Though it looked like she went for the naked look that used a lot of expensive makeup to look like having no makeup at all. I could tell because I could see a hint of black eye cycle. Or perhaps she needed very little help to achieve the naked look. I could tell she has large deep piercing eyes.

It wasn't a good start. For me it was a last minute thing. Obviously she wasn't expecting any VIP by her causal outfit and makeover, or the lack of it. I was overjoyed when I saw her. I think she had the same feeling because she immediately tried to up sell. It wasn't bad because she knew she looked like a rip-off, drama queen, and that sort of thing. The last thing she wanted was for me to think lesser of her. By the way, her accent must be somewhere American but I could hear every word that she said, even when talking to herself. I have trouble hearing what my kids say, which is not their fault, because most schools in the area are so-called distinguished.

I wasn't expecting a hearty meal but my experience tell me not to disappoint them. I let her up-sell a little that immediately put me in the upper echelon of her clients, if only for once, on the condition that I would decide after checking the goods. She understood when I just sat there staring at her boobs. She started a strip tease but kept the dancing to a barely recognizable minimum. Since she mentioned she was not local, but from Vegas, I still think she was a slightly out of shape stripper.

She had nothing on under her causal outfit. Her large boobs are actually enhanced, but looked very natural because a lot of them was her own. Not brand new, but no support needed, neither did her big ass. She had a delicious waist line, and the only out of shape part was her tummy, which was not flat, but not a lot different from those of healthy eating school girls. I smiled because I was genuinely happy, told her that she got the deal, embraced her big ass, and then buried my face into her chest.

Before we started, she went to the bathroom. I didn't know what came over me. For the first time in my life I followed her. Before I got to the door of the bathroom I asked politely like a gentleman, "Can I watch?". Wasn't she enchanting? Maybe she was taken by surprise, I didn't hear a reply. Then I was at a position where I could see her sitting on the toilet at a distance. She just looked at me. Without my glasses I didn't know her reaction, but I could imagine that it was the what-the-fuck stare. I retreated, since I was too shy to talk about it again.

When I finished squeezing, sucking and licking her breasts and bottom to my heart's desire, I laid down for the blow job. She did it with her back against me. I turned a few degrees on the bed sheet and she knew I wanted to watch. She hesitated momentarily and then went on to give me a very sexy blow job. My heart lifted and sank with the movement of her lips slowing going up and down my shaft. It lasted for a few minutes, possibly could last forever because my blood was in the wrong place - my head - appreciating her talent. Then she turned her back against me again, continued to give me a more nasty type of blow job to get me ready.

So I think she is still young and full of attitude given half the chance. But she is old enough to handle herself beautifully. I would put her in the 20 something to late 20's category. Any older, a woman would put a spell on a man very differently.

When I was spreading her like a moth (or butterfly as some would say), ideally I needed a gynecologist's examination table. She was a bit lost where to put her legs. Some girls rest their feet on my side, clamping on the top of my pelvis. But she was too big and her legs too long for that. She tried to put it on my shoulders, which is one of the perfectly acceptable position. That's when I discovered that she had long straight toes, professional pedicure with a delicious orange color! Her toe nails were short and neat, as if she need to wear stripper shoes and dance. Here the only places that do not allow sandals (and over sized nails) are some schools.

There were a little dirt on her soles, so I couldn't do anything without bringing her to the bathroom, if she would agree, and not to up sell more. Since we started nicely for a while, and I was in a very comfortable position, very reluctantly I gave up her toes, and put her legs back into mid-air, where they should be, unless I chose to get a gynecologist's table or rent a gynecologist's office.

When I was all done, since I was standing up throughout, and she was blocking the bed, I went straight to the bathroom for a quick rinse. When I came back, she laid naked in the middle of the bed. I had to squeeze in without touching or disrupting her. I asked her permission for a cigarette and she wouldn't mind.

It wasn't happening to me! Soon she started a tiny slight circular motion with the tip of her index finger, on her clitoris ! I didn't know what to make of it but it was safe to assume that if I want more I would have to pay more. Di
d she think that I am still a 20 something young stud? At my age I prefer quality instead of quantity. And at the time I was a very happy, satisfied man. But if she really wanted sex but nothing else, I would be happy to give my best. So I just sat and savored my cigarette, and then another one, watching her next moves.

At the middle of my 2nd cigarette, she gave up touching herself and went into the bathroom. The strange thing was, after a minute or two, she called me from the bathroom. I was expecting to help her find the towels, the soaps or the shower caps. But she said never mind when I got there.

I didn't have 2nd thoughts then because my mind was blank and blood wasn't there. When I returned to normal life, my imagination ran wild. She really wanted sex. Being shy and afraid of rejection, she went into the bathroom to get off by herself. When she was excited she couldn't resist to call me to help her. But when I got there it was too late. Or, enough time had passed that she collected enough golden shower to deliver. She wanted to rouse me or she wanted to show me that she is very open minded for next time. When I got there she changed her mind, have nothing to deliver after all, or just blocked due to anxiety.

She was very pleased when I asked her private number. She wasn't sure when I did nothing while she touched herself. She asked for my phone to enter the digits herself. She asked where to put the digits, if I mind calling herself so the number would be left on the out calling list. She entered my name on her phone, and would do the same for me if I let her. I assured her that she and her number would be safely remembered in my phone.

The sad thing was, she had no plan to settle in my fair city. She asked me if I would travel around to neighboring cities. Not likely, but for her I probably would.

I thought of calling her all the time, I am addicted to the eye-to-eye fuck, and couldn't forget her ass, possibly good enough to rim, her unexplored toes and the enchanting orange pedicure. But I didn't want to be disappointed. The chance of her visiting my city when I called was slim, and that I didn't have all day to track her down.

Also, I doubt if the magic moments will return that easily. It wouldn't work if she warms up to me and smiles. It wouldn't work if she enjoyed herself too much. When she stared at me, I would easily have burst out laughing if I thought of myself as being in a porn movie of the Japanese kind, where the male actors are at times terribly ugly.

I missed a call from her about a week later. I couldn't have managed to see her anyway. I called her after another week. I couldn't get through to her. Lucky that I wasn't looking for a virtual (shared) sugar baby replacement, for which she would be perfect, if I can afford it.

That's life.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Is it possible to get serious with a call girl?

I never thought it was possible to have a call girl as a serious girlfriend. But then once upon a time, did you think that only virgins will do? Now that I'm completely over her, I think it's very possible with the one who used to be my professional (paid) girl friend. It's possible but it doesn't mean that I can do it. This is a personal experience that doesn't represent anything.

I never thought about that when I was seeing her regularly, and mostly her. She said she only had a few regulars and it seemed true. May be I thought about it momentarily, but since I never thought that she would think about it, I didn't register any of it. I don't think she thought about it. Maybe she did, but since she knew I wouldn't give up my status quo for her, she wouldn't think too much about it.

Maybe both of us have a lot to lose, so it didn't seem possible, so we can relax about it, without worrying that the other got the wrong ideas. We also told each other things such as how lune Mrs Player is and how she didn't want to marry her rich boyfriend.

A current call girl is out of the question. I don't think I can stand it yet, unless I need a lot of financial assistance to keep my lifestyle. I can possibly get over what an ex-call girl went through.

I'm attracted to her, never failed to get hard, never hesitated to deep French/Japanese kiss her when she was up for it, and on a good day I had lots of sperms to show for it. I can't say how beautiful she is, but it's a joy to stare at her face while doing the missionary, and to watch her blowing me. Otherwise she isn't a model material, but has good genes, and everything is nice to look at.

I was with her through thick and thin, really. She was school girl thin, photogenic with bikini on when I first met her. When she was low, I met her once when her hair was pink, once her lips were dry with almost flaking skin. Once I called her out when she had been closing her room door, smoking cigarette and talking with her friends for hours if not overnight, her hair in a mess full of cigarette odor. Once her big toe nail was broken. Once her skin was so badly taken care of that she needed to see the doctor, while I knew it was only caused by prolonged dryness on delicate skin - I got the same problems.

She got fatter when she was on the pill, though I found out the reason much later. She once resorted to wearing all black coming to the motel. But I found it rather sexy like a sexy housewife with some meat. When we first met, she always liked to walk around naked, or I should say she didn't try her best to hide her naked body. After sex, she would walk to the bathroom and walk back naked, or even chat with me sitting naked. But when she was fat, she deliberately stood in front of me and changed slowly, wanting to get my comment on her body. She knew she was fat.

Her body wasn't terrible then, but everything seemed to be going hill, and I thought it would be the end of our relationship. She wasn't that good to me, perhaps not to give me wrong ideas, and then what would I be paying for? Her delicate skin looked like a woman's face cleared of makeup. Unlike girls who never use makeup, you can see tiny flaws here and there. Her well shaped, bigger boobs looked like they swelled a little, but not drooping yet, and her nipple a little blurred. She wasn't thick but her killer waist was gone. She wear medium skirts on occasions, so I thought she has nice legs, until one day, I didn't remember when, she agreed to put on a school uniform. Her tights were thicker than I thought. Another time I watched her silhouette when she was making motel coffee for me naked standing up. Her messy hair and lose muscle tone terrified me for a second.

All those didn't stop me from calling her, well, a lot of times she called me. Changing the angle and she would look a lot better. If I stopped seeing her, it would be that I feel unfair for the money I gave her, that I could have better. And also I wouldn't want to watch her going downhill all the way, feeling sorry for her.

But then she got back in shape, just by staying off the pill I think. She got back in shape that was unmistakably unmarried without children. Her hair and skin became perfect again, added with perfectly done nails. Sometimes she wore clothes and makeups like she was thirty something, when in fact she was 10 years younger. That was pretty hot and I wondered who she was going to see next. The last time I saw her she was school girl thin, wearing teenage uniform with trendy T-shirt, jeans, and perfectly matched pink manicure and pedicure. OMG.

I wasn't attracted to her because she is young. Otherwise I could prefer a mail order bride. Indeed I wish she was a lot older, same attractiveness of course. One reason I am attracted to her because her looks would last very long. I knew a number of women that could fight off teenagers at 40 something, and would be attractive well into their 50's. Mostly they are not call girls, otherwise they will be to expensive for me to see. She is the next generation, so I would predict her self life would be approaching 60 or more, and at the time I would have nothing to worry about.

She started to take calls most likely because she couldn't resist the temptation of money and life style, she was naive, and many of her peers do it. It could be more complicated but nothing new. Later it doesn't matter that much once you started. Instead of marrying her boyfriend, she tried to delay, taking calls when she needed money for her independence. Since she lived with her mother, a few calls from her regulars would help her through the month with decent pocket money to spend.

The morality may be hard to swallow but there are worse things, desperate cheating wives, lune civilians and mail order brides that you know nothing about.

She did play fair. If she is going to marry, she will marry, have kids, and that will be it. If she played games, she could get away with a mil or a few more just by getting married and then quit. Though her boyfriend may ask her to sign something at the last minute, but she never thought of that sort of thing.

If she played dirty, she could have gotten a lot more money from me. She never asked me to go shopping with her, which I couldn't have resisted. She played fair, and wanted no trouble from clients.

To me she remained carefully on a professional level, but would be nice to me given enough compensation. She can make me happy, other than sex and looks. We had spent several hours in bed, and also hours in restaurants, while I totally lost track of time, as if only one hour had passed.

I can't tell you her feelings for me, if any. I only know that her requirements aren't that stringent. Yes, she wanted a rich husband, but her boyfriend isn't that rich, having a nice car, a nice house, and a secure future. But still you can easily lose everything no matter what. Life is a trade-off, and perhaps she would settle for less cash, more talent, and someone she can talk to - that seemed to be the only thing that's important to her other than money.

Well we talked. We talked about cheating. She even asked me my advise on the fact that she didn't want to marry so young and have kids. If I can overlook her past certainly we would have much more to talk about. But it was like when we talked too much, we regretted it afterward for crossing the line. We, at least I, refrained from asking some questions even though I wanted to know very much, and when we ventured into something different, we kept it short, casual and shallow, all in the name of a professional relationship.

Some call girls want toy boy or even male model types for boyfriend and even husbands , but not her. Perhaps money is so much more important. Perhaps she became insensitive to looks. It's true that better looking people do better but at the top are disproportionally full of the shorties and the uglies. These guys had all the incentive in the world to do well.

I'm not bad myself. I probably looked younger than her boyfriend, who is much younger than me. I had hair, legs and until recently, killer waist. And everything works :-). When we all grown up, my childhood schoolmates still blamed the thief for stealing our first (and last) guitars while taking our first lessons. We never bother to ask our mothers money to replace them. They are sure that if I learned to play, I'll sing and I will have groupies and they will have the surplus.

Good times, when she was a phone call away.

Friday, May 08, 2009

The fail spy

Suddenly I decided to spy on Mrs Player. With triangulation, I found out where she was. (Actually the triangulation was only mentally performed.) I went to the nearest shop to get a bug. (It was a sensitive voice recorder.) I would like to get a GPS too, but no shop stocks cheap data loggers, which have to be shipped.

I found her car and planted the bug. To my surprise the vanity mirror was out and the light was still on. When I left I had to close the light and the mirror, because somebody was in the next car. I couldn't leave any light on to attract attention to me. I wouldn't know if that blew my cover.

I came back later to stalk her. Nothing happened. I was sure that I would beat her on the way home with time to spare, otherwise I would have lots of explaining to do. Surprisingly I failed miserably, even though I tried hard. I had the fast car. Later I found out that even though I took the road with virtually no traffic lights, at night her straight forward route had all green lights. The shorter distance route won.

The other time I caught her driving somebody to somewhere. I tailed her in the cover of darkness. It was disappointing, as she just dropped that person off home. But maybe she knew I was behind her and changed her plan on the fly.

I continued to follow her but she was driving like a pro spy. I lost her, didn't know whether she turned left or right. Just when I was flipping a mental coin, she zoomed past right in front of me like a victory lap. I followed more closely, now that I might have been discovered. Then she was doing frequent U-turns and I was caught face to face with her, though she didn't look my way. To avoid detection, possibly again, I had to drive at other lanes, missing the immediate U-turns. I lost her again. Only by illegal driving speed going straight, I was lucky to find her again. There were few other cars on the road, otherwise I wouldn't have recognized her car from afar.

She kept doing U-turns like a very pro spy to avoid any tailing. I didn't care and followed her at short distance. I felt so humiliated, but at least I couldn't be so fail as to lose her completely. She then drove home, maybe because I wouldn't let go of her. Instead of racing with her again, I went out to release some tension and frustration.

Later it dawned on me that the simplest explanation is the best - she was completely lost. She didn't see me or recognized my car in the dark.