die and I didn't get shot, and they weren't my last thoughts. Just giving you an example of how real they were – are – to me, how charged with emotional stuff."
She wept and kissed his neck, and rubbed her hands across his cheeks and chest, "So, what do we do, Cole?"
"Well, I think we should probably go out next week, as well, basically because I really do like you. Then we can make a few memories of our own. Be ourselves with each other."
She nipped at her lip, "I kind of have this problem with understanding… hell, even knowing … who myself is."
"About time we discovered her then, I guess. My gut tells me that I'm going to really like her and I would like to spend as much time with her as I can."
She hesitated, but she knew she had to ask or it would be an elephant in the room for her, "And what about what I do for a living?"
"Call girl? Well, that's what you do. I don't expect you to quit just because of some weirdness and an emotional afternoon. No, why don't we just keep us for the days off and explore for us a while? Both of us know that something, some weird part of us, is really serious about each other. The rest of us needs a chance to catch up," he suggested.
"Yeah," she nodded, "I like that a lot. That's some logic I can get behind."
He nodded and then added, "After that, we'll get married, have three kids, move to the suburbs where you can join the PTA and develop SUV ass."
She snorted and slapped his arm, "You are awful! I will never, ever allow us to own an SUV. Hear me? Never! Those visions can shove it up their ass."
Cole opened his mouth to say something and she hissed him silent, cutting her index finger across his lips. "Zip it! Never. Ever," she affirmed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was a month later that she came to Cole's house with the intention of taking him to bed. After some seriously hot kissing and petting last week, she sucked him off. It was the best and decidedly the most intimate blowjob she had ever given. She was concerned at first about his size, but loved his beauty. Afterward, he brought her to several blissfully sweet climaxes with his fingers by demonstrating some serious levels of unexpected skills.
It was the first climax she experienced with someone else for longer that she could remember. Since Jorge, she supposed, who was the long term, abusive boyfriend she was with before running away.
It was her desperation during the week after running away from Jorge that she decided to be more honest about her whoring. Before Jorge, it was like having sex and then getting a gift, which wasn't really whoring, her denial told her. But after that first week, she needed cash. She was alone on the street, with no money, no friends and remained sexually attractive despite what Jorge did to her. Less than two days later, she was agreeing to become a call girl.
She didn't climax with clients. She was too focused on them, too relaxed enough for a climax to rise. She faked orgasms all the time; it was basically her job and she was seriously good at it, not too much, not too little and occasionally shedding some emotional tears from her eyes, so that she could get caught trying to hide from her client. Her moaning was good, as well, which she practiced every day for over two months back when she first began acting as a call girl.
Everything about her sexual performances was pulled apart, examined ruthlessly, assessed for usefulness, then reassembled adding in new skills and seductions. She was, from top to bottom, a contrived lover. Techniques such as pompoir and kabazzah were sought after and learned. She studied fetishes and strove to understand the underlying attractions. She desired a bottom line understanding around what was so powerful inside their experience that they drove men to perform all sorts of strange behavior with their lovers.
Her days were comprised with such endeavors. The time spent on these
She wept and kissed his neck, and rubbed her hands across his cheeks and chest, "So, what do we do, Cole?"
"Well, I think we should probably go out next week, as well, basically because I really do like you. Then we can make a few memories of our own. Be ourselves with each other."
She nipped at her lip, "I kind of have this problem with understanding… hell, even knowing … who myself is."
"About time we discovered her then, I guess. My gut tells me that I'm going to really like her and I would like to spend as much time with her as I can."
She hesitated, but she knew she had to ask or it would be an elephant in the room for her, "And what about what I do for a living?"
"Call girl? Well, that's what you do. I don't expect you to quit just because of some weirdness and an emotional afternoon. No, why don't we just keep us for the days off and explore for us a while? Both of us know that something, some weird part of us, is really serious about each other. The rest of us needs a chance to catch up," he suggested.
"Yeah," she nodded, "I like that a lot. That's some logic I can get behind."
He nodded and then added, "After that, we'll get married, have three kids, move to the suburbs where you can join the PTA and develop SUV ass."
She snorted and slapped his arm, "You are awful! I will never, ever allow us to own an SUV. Hear me? Never! Those visions can shove it up their ass."
Cole opened his mouth to say something and she hissed him silent, cutting her index finger across his lips. "Zip it! Never. Ever," she affirmed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was a month later that she came to Cole's house with the intention of taking him to bed. After some seriously hot kissing and petting last week, she sucked him off. It was the best and decidedly the most intimate blowjob she had ever given. She was concerned at first about his size, but loved his beauty. Afterward, he brought her to several blissfully sweet climaxes with his fingers by demonstrating some serious levels of unexpected skills.
It was the first climax she experienced with someone else for longer that she could remember. Since Jorge, she supposed, who was the long term, abusive boyfriend she was with before running away.
It was her desperation during the week after running away from Jorge that she decided to be more honest about her whoring. Before Jorge, it was like having sex and then getting a gift, which wasn't really whoring, her denial told her. But after that first week, she needed cash. She was alone on the street, with no money, no friends and remained sexually attractive despite what Jorge did to her. Less than two days later, she was agreeing to become a call girl.
She didn't climax with clients. She was too focused on them, too relaxed enough for a climax to rise. She faked orgasms all the time; it was basically her job and she was seriously good at it, not too much, not too little and occasionally shedding some emotional tears from her eyes, so that she could get caught trying to hide from her client. Her moaning was good, as well, which she practiced every day for over two months back when she first began acting as a call girl.
Everything about her sexual performances was pulled apart, examined ruthlessly, assessed for usefulness, then reassembled adding in new skills and seductions. She was, from top to bottom, a contrived lover. Techniques such as pompoir and kabazzah were sought after and learned. She studied fetishes and strove to understand the underlying attractions. She desired a bottom line understanding around what was so powerful inside their experience that they drove men to perform all sorts of strange behavior with their lovers.
Her days were comprised with such endeavors. The time spent on these
Similar Books
