making a guy come. Literally. No sex, this is all she wants, to blow me and spank one out while she does it.
She releases her hold around my dick and pushes down the extra couple of inches, retching when her lips touch my balls. The more I groan and thrust into her face, the faster her hand moves over her pussy. She moans around my cock and the vibrations have me throwing my head back and fighting not to blow my load down her throat. She moves her hand between my legs and cups my balls, pressing one finger against my taint. I fight it, but damn she knows exactly what buttons to press. Everything tightens before exploding outward in a wave of pleasure that has my gritting my teeth on a growl. She moans, her body shaking and stiffening as she swallows my come. People get off on all sorts of different things. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of unconventional shit in the last year. Victoria, she gets off on me getting off. It’s fucking beautiful if you really stop and think about it. I mean, I’m curious, because she’s a good looking woman, and she certainly knows her way around a guy. So why doesn’t she just find a guy to blow? I ask myself these questions all the time, but I’ve learned that some people just don’t want the bullshit. She pays me, she knows what she’s getting. I’ll always turn up when she needs me, I’ll always comply with whatever she asks, and let’s be honest, I’m better looking than any random guy she could find.
I leave Victoria’s apartment building and hop in my car. The engine hums to life, purring like a contented cat. This car is one of the first things I bought when I started working for Thor. My second month’s paycheque covered the cost of it. A black Porsche 911. This was the car even my dad wanted when I was growing up. And I got it. At the age of twenty-one. Of course, I can’t ever drive it to my parents’ house because my mum will freak the fuck out and assume that I’m selling drugs for a living or something. This is the life of an escort and I love it, but sometimes it’s frustrating, having to explain where and how you spend so much of your time, not to mention explaining the money. The other guys, they don’t really have lives outside of the agency. Their friends are the other guys, all escorts. No explanation necessary. I’m friends with Maddox and Xavier, even Cora, but I, unlike them I have a whole other life. A life none of them even know about. For them this is it, make a living, stash the money and retire at thirty-five. That’s not my plan. I like being an escort, but I don’t want to do it forever. The thing is, if you’re good and you do this for a few years, you could make enough money to live like a fucking god for many years to come.
When I first started this I wasn’t all that sure of the whole thing. I mean, what if you have to fuck some old chick that you’re really not into. Maddox kindly informed me that that’s what Viagra is for. Arsehole. I haven’t met any clients that I really wouldn’t fuck though. Sure, a lot of them are older, but any woman who can drop a cool five grand on a lay can afford to look after herself. Personal trainers, plastic surgery… you name it, these women are doing it. They look better than a lot of women half their age. Then of course there’s the whole awkward thing of they know they’re paying you, and you know they’re paying you. How do you even begin to make that authentic? Well, you don’t. I used to try and treat clients like fucking royalty, but here’s the thing…they want you to be their fantasy, and most of the time, they’re only too happy to tell you what that is.
I pull up outside the house and jump out. I have my own flat, but the entire ground floor of Thor’s house is kitted out for the agency. Spare rooms, kitchen, living room, games room, office, gym… the guys, and Cora, tend to hang out here between jobs. I use the gym here because it’s pimped out to fuck. I prefer to come here
She releases her hold around my dick and pushes down the extra couple of inches, retching when her lips touch my balls. The more I groan and thrust into her face, the faster her hand moves over her pussy. She moans around my cock and the vibrations have me throwing my head back and fighting not to blow my load down her throat. She moves her hand between my legs and cups my balls, pressing one finger against my taint. I fight it, but damn she knows exactly what buttons to press. Everything tightens before exploding outward in a wave of pleasure that has my gritting my teeth on a growl. She moans, her body shaking and stiffening as she swallows my come. People get off on all sorts of different things. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of unconventional shit in the last year. Victoria, she gets off on me getting off. It’s fucking beautiful if you really stop and think about it. I mean, I’m curious, because she’s a good looking woman, and she certainly knows her way around a guy. So why doesn’t she just find a guy to blow? I ask myself these questions all the time, but I’ve learned that some people just don’t want the bullshit. She pays me, she knows what she’s getting. I’ll always turn up when she needs me, I’ll always comply with whatever she asks, and let’s be honest, I’m better looking than any random guy she could find.
I leave Victoria’s apartment building and hop in my car. The engine hums to life, purring like a contented cat. This car is one of the first things I bought when I started working for Thor. My second month’s paycheque covered the cost of it. A black Porsche 911. This was the car even my dad wanted when I was growing up. And I got it. At the age of twenty-one. Of course, I can’t ever drive it to my parents’ house because my mum will freak the fuck out and assume that I’m selling drugs for a living or something. This is the life of an escort and I love it, but sometimes it’s frustrating, having to explain where and how you spend so much of your time, not to mention explaining the money. The other guys, they don’t really have lives outside of the agency. Their friends are the other guys, all escorts. No explanation necessary. I’m friends with Maddox and Xavier, even Cora, but I, unlike them I have a whole other life. A life none of them even know about. For them this is it, make a living, stash the money and retire at thirty-five. That’s not my plan. I like being an escort, but I don’t want to do it forever. The thing is, if you’re good and you do this for a few years, you could make enough money to live like a fucking god for many years to come.
When I first started this I wasn’t all that sure of the whole thing. I mean, what if you have to fuck some old chick that you’re really not into. Maddox kindly informed me that that’s what Viagra is for. Arsehole. I haven’t met any clients that I really wouldn’t fuck though. Sure, a lot of them are older, but any woman who can drop a cool five grand on a lay can afford to look after herself. Personal trainers, plastic surgery… you name it, these women are doing it. They look better than a lot of women half their age. Then of course there’s the whole awkward thing of they know they’re paying you, and you know they’re paying you. How do you even begin to make that authentic? Well, you don’t. I used to try and treat clients like fucking royalty, but here’s the thing…they want you to be their fantasy, and most of the time, they’re only too happy to tell you what that is.
I pull up outside the house and jump out. I have my own flat, but the entire ground floor of Thor’s house is kitted out for the agency. Spare rooms, kitchen, living room, games room, office, gym… the guys, and Cora, tend to hang out here between jobs. I use the gym here because it’s pimped out to fuck. I prefer to come here
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