Courtesan

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Rooter48

Courtesan

Unread post by Rooter48 » Sun Jun 24, 2007 4:12 pm

Craig's List
Erotic Services
Subject: A Client of mine has a special request - W4M
I don't normally post here. I have a small circle of generous friends. One of my friends, a man with too much money for his own good, would like to watch me with another man. This is not a 3some rather an exhibition, which has a long tradition in the industry. Here is your chance for some first-rate fun with a mature lady of no mean skill in the erotic arts. Are you up for it? I'm 55 (but look 53), 5-7, 135 lbs, 34B. Donation $150 (my client is taking care of the rest). Email me for a phone number. I will need a number for you. AshLeigh


"Hi, this is John. I sent you an email." The signal quality suggested a hands-free cell phone, probably in the car.

"Hi John. It's nice to hear your voice. What can I do for you?"

A pause. "Well, can I meet you?"

"Sure, when did you want to get together?"

"Now, I guess."

"Well, I won't be ready until 4. How does that work for you?"

"OK, I guess."

"For an hour?"

"Yes." Jane gave him the name of the hotel and directions and told him to call her from the parking lot. Then would she give him the room number. He gave her a call back number for his cell phone and she made sure if it was ok to call him there.

"And you know someone else will be here," Jane said. "But he won't be involved. Is that still ok with you?

"That's what your ad said. Yeah, that's fine. I guess."

"I look forward to your call John. I look forward to meeting you." Beeps signaled the end of the call and she snapped her phone shut.

"How does he sound?" Mack asked from across the room.

"A little nervous."

"You think it's his first time?"

"No, but he doesn't sound that experienced."

"Four o'clock, that gives you and hour to get ready." Mack remained seated in the chair and proceeded to watch his wife of fifteen years, mother of his children, professionally accomplished, treasurer of the PTA, prepare for an act of prostitution, sex for sale, illegal, immoral, and frowned upon by every major culture in world history.

Mack and Jane used to be swingers, but children and career stole whatever time and psychic energy made that possible. And during that time, Jane once earned a few bucks before the baby stripping, giving her some exposure to the sex industry and a taste for entertaining. She adored exposing herself to the beer-soaked patrons and came home ready to jump Mack's bones. Mack's ever-reliable tongue and a few toys stood in when Mr. Happy failed to come out to play. But Jane never took the additional steps to try and earn a living swinging on a pole and she certainly never followed the other girls as they met fans after the show.

When Mack and Jane finally emerged from diapers and day care they wondered, what next? Their sex life remained adequate, but just adequate. Reentering the swinging scene – The Lifestyle – was the obvious answer, but that took a lot of time. And trouble. First you had to find a group and attend their gatherings. Or you took your chances with an ad online or in one of the newspapers. For a year they attended parties, but not at one of "on-site" clubs where the adults could play. Mack and Jane decided to stick to more private venues. They met people for drinks and even play, but dates ran from nothing to write home about to just plain rotten. One man insisted on smoking. One woman got hysterical when she saw Jane with her husband.

But Sam and Agnes were the real deal. There was that first evening, then another, then an overnight, then a weekend in Atlantic City. Same-room sex with your own partner moved to same-room sex with the other partner and private sex with the other partner. All four enjoyed changing things up. They talked about a cruise together. Jane and Agnes even tried it with each other for the men. Mack and Sam could not bring themselves to returning the favor to the girls. It was a genuine friendship exclusive of other couples. Imagine the questions when Jane got pregnant, a complete surprise. Neither Mack nor Jane relaxed entirely until their son was born the spitting image of his father. The new parents disappeared into their new roles. Sam and Agnes drifted away and eventually moved to Portland.

Neither Mack nor Jane looked forward to the search for two other people. Both cringed at the parties and the drinks, remaining courteous and diplomatic when it was obvious this was a waste of time, looking past the weight and age issues, watching for red flags, and the whole awkwardness and difficulty of finding four-way compatibility. Still, they made plans for one swingers' get together until Jane finally admitted she just wasn't in the mood. How to spice up their sex life? Toys were ok. Reading erotica to one other was good too. The videos never did it at all. The Internet offered a cornucopia of sexual activity, W4M, M4W, MW4MW, and on and on, all of which Mack was willing to try, but Jane remained uninspired.

Then they got the wrong DVD in the mail, Pretty Baby with Keith Carradine and Brooke Shields set in a brothel in New Orleans in 1917.

"Maybe you could try being a whore?" Mack offered in jest.

"Maybe."

Mack surfed the Web and he gathered a picture of the world's oldest profession in the Internet Age. Instead of standing on street corners, or lounging about in over-decorated parlors, prostitutes – providers – posted ads online with various descriptions of their services. He learned a new language, indy, agency, AMP, FBST, donation, LE, outcall, in call, spill a cup of coffee, DATY, beret. The women did not seem to fit the stereotypical psychotic-junkie-victim, but seemed intelligent, discriminating, and responsible. And in control. The providers watched out for each other, running their own discussion forums exchanging notes on clients and risks – physical, biological, and legal. In fact, the online sex business seemed to be really a virtual brothel where men and women gathered together for the obvious, for social support, and mutual protection. Women rated men, men rated women, and it was the ideal marketplace, a glimpse of a world where prostitution was accepted as a perfectly normal human activity.

Mack showed Jane the ads and a discussion board in Seattle. Seattle seemed to have a wide-open sex industry. They enjoyed the reviews and the provider posts and the discussions of etiquette. Some women were less well educated and others let their attitudes show. But a man looking for commercial sex found a dizzying array of choices as to service, age, race, location, and price.

"Are you serious about this?" Mack asked one night in the dark.

"I keep thinking about it," she replied.

"Tell me."

"First of all, it's sex, and I like that. But there is the risk. Being found out. Catching something. Meeting some creep. Police. The girls online seem to have managed that. They play safe, at least for fucking. And they trust their guts on the clients. Creeps get outed and their numbers go up on the board. No one seems to have trouble with cops. They never discuss money on the phone or in person. They move around. I just can't get it out of my head. But it doesn't involve you, Mack. I want you to be there somehow."

"Your pimp?"

"No. None of them use a pimp. Pimps are scum. No, I want you there. I want you part of it."

"Maybe I can?"

The answer to that came from Mack's online pen pal, an erstwhile author of erotica. Have Jane – AshLeigh – pose as a high-priced hooker with a kinky high-roller client. She can turn tricks in front of Mack and they would have a shared experience. The idea began to gather steam.


In the hotel room, Jane began to get into character, to become AshLiegh. She started with the little things which they had brought with them. It was important that she do this all herself, no help from Mack. She had to enter the world of whoredom by herself, to perform as an escort should. From the suitcase, she pulled out the clock with the hands and placed it on the stand next to the bed. Everyone would know the time. Next she set up the player and selected some soft music from more than a dozen CDs she brought along.

In the bathroom she laid out hand towels, her own, and a dispenser of nice soap, none of that brittle hotel crap. Show the client the little things. She carefully folded down the spread of one of the two queens in the room and then undid the white sheets diagonally. The client would see the bed waiting for him and there would be no doubt what was intended. A man wants to be wanted.

And the sex supplies: condoms, lube, medical-sized tissue (no bath tissue in the sex industry), and even a toy, just in case. One condom she unwrapped and placed under a pillow checking to see which side was up. The wrapper went into its own garbage bag. Like campers, escorts carried out what they carried in. She zipped up all the bags and tucked them away and arranged her hanging clothes neatly. Mack remained silent. AshLeigh worked alone.

A shower was in order, but first AshLeigh went over her pubis with the new razor catching that last bit of stubble yet leaving a trim landing strip. The other providers assured her that the smooth look was very popular and much easier to keep clean. Under the stream of water head AshLeigh paid special attention to those places and orifices a man is compelled to explore. Should he choose to taste, he would find only good things, good things to remember, good things to taste again some time, good things to tell his friends about.

All dry she went to her work clothes. Victoria's Secret offered lines that seemed ready made for the working girl. Black thigh-highs, black panties – not flimsy underwear, but serious clothing almost like a swim suit. A matching bra. Camisole. A light floral robe topped the arrangement. Finish the hair. And the heels. Jane admired herself in the mirror and said, "AshLeigh, you are one hot number." Mack agreed in silence.

Jane originally thought that perfume would be part of the package, but the girls assured her she probably smelled just fine. Besides, some men have allergies and many go home to someone who would pick up a strange scent at ten paces. It's all about the client and the client is always right.

AshLiegh was ready with about ten minutes to go. She took a seat at the end of the bed and reflected on her quest, their quest. That first client, Peter, was remarkably easy. It was probably proper that her first venture into commercial sex would be with a fat man. Peter was about 40, probably 300 pounds and at first, the prospect of submitting to him shocked her. Then she realized that she was in control, she was the one calling the shots. He came to her. She got his money. Certainly he could ask her to perform, but she had choices, choices a married woman doesn't always really have. Deny your husband something and it impacts everything from bed to breakfast to budget. Deny a client something and he could just leave. But they never leave. They always stay for something. Peter was an inept kisser, clumsy, and he nibbled her breasts too hard. But he took direction well and they discovered that his only option was on the bottom. She gave him French, cowgirl, twice and he left a happy camper. In subsequent encounters with Peter it was $150 for about two minutes of much appreciated coitus and he left after 30 minutes.


The cell phone rang. "Hi it's John."

"You're in the parking lot?"

"Yes."

"Come in the front door and turn right to the elevators. I'm in room 259." Don't let the client attract the attention of the front desk by wandering around.

Three minutes later the knock at the door. The clock stood at two minutes to four. AshLeigh stood and undid the locks and pulled the door open, careful to hide behind it. John entered with a look somewhere been bewilderment and wonder. AshLeigh quickly pushed the door shut and set all the locks. She stepped closer to him as he glanced between her and the man seated quietly across the room, and the waiting bed.

"Hello, John," she greeted him and held open her arms. He hugged her tightly and she felt his fingers trace the outline of the bra then drop to her bottom. AshLeigh returned the gesture. The girls told her to use this opportunity to look for a second wallet and a weapon. John was no beginner. "John, could I ask you for a favor. A couple of favors?"

"Sure." He glanced again at Mack, but was heavily drawn to the vision of feminine beauty in front of him.

"Could I ask you to wash your hands, really well? And take off your shoes?"

"You bet. I need to use the rest room anyway." John was 40, six feet, brown hair, totally normal looking. And not bad looking. AshLiegh quit wondering why men were there; most could find any woman they wanted. But men can't find any women they want, so they patronize prostitutes. John did as he was bidden and disappeared into the bathroom. He reemerged drying his hands.

AshLeigh sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to her. "Have a seat." John joined her in a heartbeat, but had to look back at Mack as he kicked off his shoes. "Pay no attention to him. He's not involved. It's just you and me. Just us." She reached up and touched his neck to pull him to her for a kiss, a short buss, followed by a long deep, wet smooch. AshLeigh felt John's relax as his body melted toward her. John's hands took over, undoing her robe which gave her the nod to get his shirt off. They stood to get totally naked. Even the thigh-highs went. When his member popped out of his briefs AshLeigh was pleased to see what she had to work with. They continued to kiss and he caressed her everywhere to reach. If he wanted to touch something, she let him.

After a few moments AshLeigh pulled him up on the bed so they could embrace full length. He pushed his leg between hers and she reveled in his fuzzy, muscular body. Even with Fat Peter, that first touch of strange, bare skin was a treat. At one point he seemed to want to push into her, but she rolled out of his way and he got the hint, using his hands instead. He was an experienced lover, opening her first with one finger, then two. She answered his probes with moans and caresses of her own.

"Mind if I eat you?"

"Please do." She rolled on her back and he twisted to her with his tongue exploring where his hand had just been. His tongue wandered all over her pussy and finally settled on her clit – the sacred man in the boat. She ran her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. As he aroused her further she moaned and gasped, very little of it an act. She chose to be a whore, but there was no reason she couldn't enjoy herself. Besides, men like knowing they are pleasing their partners.

He lifted his head and asked, "Can you do that for me?"

"As you wish, milord." They switched places and AshLeigh deftly retrieved the condom from under the pillow which she slipped into her mouth. She laid her head on his stomach, sliding down, positioning the rubber with lips and tongue to unroll along the shaft as she took him. Practicing this with Mack was very, very enjoyable. John's male utterances betrayed no loss of enjoyment. The blowjob continued for several minutes until AshLeigh broke off with a question.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth or would you like some pussy?"

"Pussy. Pussy." John gasped. "I want to fuck."

"And pussy you shall have, sir." AshLeigh shifted around and retrieved the small bottle of lube from the night stand.

"Wait, not bareback." John said.

"Who said anything about bareback? Take a look." John reached down and found his cock ready for safe sex.

"Oh you sneaky lady. Very good, AshLeigh. Very good."

AshLeigh dribbled some for herself, then for him, then swung her leg over to saddle up. John watched in open mouthed wonder. He slid into her and he groaned and she groaned. The great thing about cowgirl, Ashleigh thought, was he got to play with my tits. When he dropped his hands, she took them gently and pinned them behind his head. Within thirty seconds John swelled within her and his prostate gland performed as intended. AshLeigh returned his animal noises with climactic responses of her own, alas, entirely fake. She sat him a few moments and as he shrunk, she reached down to keep the condom in place while planting a deep wet one right on his mouth despite his deep breathing.

AshLeigh scooched around and placed her head on his shoulder as his heart rate slowly subsided. She softly traced designs on his chest and occasionally teased his cock. She had been married long enough to know that at this moment, less was more when it came to a man recovering from climax.

"I should get rid of the thing," John whispered.

"Sure." AshLeigh replied softly. "Go on in. I will clean you with a nice warm wash cloth off if you like. You still have plenty of time. Maybe there is more?"

John remerged from the toilet and AshLeigh was there and treated him to a tender wash and dry before leading him back to the bed. AshLeigh could see that Mack avoided all eye contact with the client. The clock showed 40 minutes remaining, plenty of time for more play. But AshLeigh knew that she should allow herself to become a clock watcher and give the client all the time he needed, within reason.

More necking and stroking got John back in the mood again, to some extent, enough to allow application of another condom – this time not so secretly. AshLeigh brought him into full service with her mouth. She asked, "What is your pleasure, milord?"

"On your back." AshLeigh complied and he did as men do in such situation, kneeling in the appropriate place. She guided him in and he went to town. As she held him pumping, her legs in the air, she looked at the ceiling and recited her mantra, I'm a whore, I'm a whore, I'm a whore."

This being act two, John had a ways to go before clouds and rain again, but AshLeigh was in no hurry. She gave him a couple of fake orgasms since the real thing was for Mack later. John paused to suggest walking the dog and AshLeigh happily obliged. Doggie style was entirely enjoyable and even restful for her. She clutched the pillow and reveled in his hips driving against her perineum. But even John only had so much and after ten minutes he fell to the bed, sweaty, and limp. AshLeigh doubted that he came, but it didn't matter. As long as he was enjoying himself.

The whore cuddled her client for a while and offered him a bottle of spring water and a shower. He accepted the libation but declined the ablution. She let him decide when to disengage and he disappeared into the toilet. In this moment of privacy Mack offered her a smile of both approval and joy. And anticipation.

When John began retrieving his underwear from the floor, AshLeigh donned her panties and the floral robe and sat on the bed, done with this session, but still indecent. He got dressed and when he fished for his keys AshLeigh asked, "Do you have anything for me?"

"Yes I do." John pulled out a wad of bills and offered them to her, but she just turned away slightly. "Right," he said and he tossed the payment on the table. AshLeigh stood and they embraced. He went to the door and she undid the locks, then paused.

"Do me a favor," she asked. "Turn left down the hall and use the stairs." They kissed one more time and he disappeared.

There followed between Mack and Jane another example of the exquisite carnal union that had become the hallmark of this level of their marriage. But Mack and Jane are not done. What about Mack? What about his fun? Watch for more.
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