This week, I had an appointment with a woman whose husband is suffering from Erectile Dysfunction (ED). Thus, I was hired to sleep with her. She knew my agent -- apparently they're old friends, and the client was well aware of what my agent did for a living.
Once the client and I made our way into the bedroom, she didn't waste any time in getting my clothes off. Before I knew it was down to my boxers, and then those were down on to ankles, too. As she took my cock into her hand, stroking me as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, she gave a word of warning.
"Don't cum in my mouth."
"No problem," I replied. "I'll give you fair warning."
Now, not every woman I work with is capable of making me ejaculate -- at least not from oral sex. Like everything else, some women are far more orally adept than others. The same can be said for men, of course. Rebecca often says that a woman's clitoris could glow in the dark, and even then only about half of men would still find it.
Still, the client was fairly skilled, and seemed just so happy to have a man who could be intimate with her. After she went down on me and I returned the favor to her, we ended up in bed, where we had fairly aggressive sex. What I mean by "aggressive" is that she kept telling me to pump her harder.
"Harder," she'd bark, grabbing my ass and trying to push me in further. "Harder! I haven't had sex in three months!"
Jesus, I thought, doing my best to oblige her wishes. Finally, the both of us came at the same time (which is quite rare, actually, but nice when it happens). I fell onto my back, sweaty but not drenched. After lying in bed for a bit, I asked if I could take a shower, and the client told me where I could find a guest bathroom.
After showering I opened the medicine cabinet, hoping to find some spare deodorant as I was going out later that night. Didn't want to sweat if we ended up eating outside. What I found was a whole slew of products -- from toothpaste and a toothbrush, after shave and even Viagra.
My best guess is that the husband and wife have been sleeping in separate rooms for some time. Perhaps since the husband lost his ability to get a hard-on. I felt bad for invading his space, and even more worried that when he returned home, he'd be suspicious as to who was using his bathroom.
As I was about to leave, I asked the client if using that bathroom was OK.
"Oh, you saw my husband's things? Don't worry -- he's in New York until next week on business. But I'll still do a quick cleanup later on."
"Right. Well, thanks. If you'd like to see me again, just give my agent a call."
As the cab pulled up out front, I headed for the front door and saw a family portrait in the living room. No idea where the kids were -- probably summer camp -- but the idea invading someone's "happy" family still made me cringe.
I might be a whore, but that doesn't mean my conscience has faded completely. Though quite frankly, sometimes I wish it would.
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