The Rush

Last night, Tuesday, November 3, 2009 was my first night back at work since my job interview up north.

It felt good to be back in the heat of Miami, hearing the ocean roar in the distance, as the wind pushed through the palm trees overhead. There's truly nothing sexier than South Beach at night, with the neon lights glowing in a florescence of blue, pink and yellow.

Candles flickered on the tables of the restaurants at Ocean Drive, as the young and the old and the beautiful of all ages drink, eat and laugh to their hearts' content. Walking through this urban playground en route to the client's hotel is nothing short of inspiring.

More than anything, I get a rush from this job that can't be replaced. What will the client be like? What will I be doing with her, sexually speaking? Maybe I'll get a nice tip, sometimes as large as my fee itself.

I arrive at the hotel and take the elevator to one of the upper floors. Locating the client's room, I take a deep breath, knock on her door, and see that again, she's pretty attractive. After kissing her cheek and entering the suite, I help myself to the bottle of wine she had delivered to the room, pouring us each a glass of Merlot.

"Cheers," I said, and click her glass with my own. "So, you mentioned you're on vacation? How are you liking Miami so far...?"

Before long, we're naked, sweaty, rolling in the sheets like a couple of college kids after a bout of midterm exams.

I relished her cried as I spread her legs and went down her, sucking her clitoris and licking her in long, lazy strokes. Moving my mouth away, I penetrated her with my fingers, gesturing for her to "come here" in a rather well-known technique. I couldn't help but lick my fingers clean after the act was finished, and made a put of making her watch me do it.

Right as my knees were beginning to burn from being on the carpeted floor for too long, I was about to mount her when she pressed a hand against my chest. Then, with a smile more wicked than any witch of the west, she rolled over and told me to fuck her from behind.

Not doggie. She wanted anal.

"Are you sure?" I asked. A lot of women think anal will be something it isn't. It takes time, patience, lubricant.

"Yes," she replied, almost impatiently. "I'm ready."

The lubricant was one of the better brands available. I took things slowly, probing with one finger, then two, then three. By the time my cock burrowed inside of her, we'd found a mutual rhythm, until we both finally came -- almost in a rapture, actually. Quite the climax.

We lay in bed for awhile before I went to the bathroom to clean up. With the condom disposed and the lube washed from my fingers, I returned to the bedroom and began to dress. The client seemed a bit disappointed, but she knows the drill: I only stay for the hour.