Anyway, I had an interesting (and educational, at least for the client) night at work. By the title of this blog post you might think we had sex at midnight, which is true, but it's what happened before that's the interesting part.
I arrived at the client's apartment at around 10:30 p.m. on account of traffic. I'm a stickler for punctuality, but in Miami sometimes one can't help arriving late. Thanks to my agent -- who was kind enough to call ahead and cover for me -- the client didn't seem to mind.
Her apartment was nice. Not five-star or something out of Ocean Drive, but nice nonetheless. I know I've mentioned that I see a lot of wealthy women, but they're not my sole client base. Sometimes I'm known to slum it with the middle- and upper-middle class.
Moving on. The client had paid for a two-hour booking, and I figured we would drink a bit of wine, maybe watch a DVD, then have sex. I was right on those points, but there was something else she wanted me to do. Simply put, she wanted me to masturbate for her.
"Is that all right?" she asked. "I just... I've never seen a man do it before."
"Really?" I asked. "Lord knows we do it often enough. Surprised you haven't caught us by now."
She laughed, blush faintly staining her face. "I asked my ex, but he was too much of a prude to let me. I really don't see the big deal..."
After we made our way into the bedroom, I found myself in a Clothed Female, Naked Male (CFNM) situation. I let her touch my chest, scratch her fingernails against my abdomen, even run her hands through my hair. She complimented the softness of it -- my hair, that is -- and how I "have waves that women would pay good money for."
I lay down on the bed, my back tickled by the soft sheets. Then, reaching down, I begin stroking myself, trying to find the proper rhythm. I didn't want to ejaculate, seeing how the client still likely wanted to have sex. I have a fairly good reboot factor -- usually about five or ten minutes -- but seeing how I was already late, I didn't want to keep her waiting for anything else.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she said. "What you're doing."
"I'm thinking of the time I lost my virginity," I lied. In reality, I was thinking how long I should keep this charade going. "I remember her perfume, the way her hair fell over my chest as she sucked my cock. The way she tasted when I licked her cunt."
The client was cradling her breasts, before one hand vanished between her legs. "Now tell me how you're doing it."
"Start off slow," I said. "Not too rough. Guys don't like that. Squeeze gently, then release. Brushing your thumb across the head of his cock. Let your hand warm up -- or wear rings that are cold. Hot and cold. That's the best..."
I had closed my eyes during this, and when I opened them I saw the client standing nude over me. I ceased masturbating and slipped on a condom. Then, as she sat on my lap, I pressed my mouth onto hers and tasted the wine we both had before.
"Thank you," she said. "Now I know what I'm doing."
"Don't mention it," I said, and eased the client onto her back. "Now we get to the good part..."
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