Tuesday, 22 April 2014

The Joy of seeing an Escort

I visit escorts and I visit a dominatrix.
Why would someone do such a thing? Over the course of this blog, I'm going to do my best to explain why.
I'm going to begin with a little overview of a 30 minute escort visit, specifically the most appealing aspects from my own viewpoint.

The clandestine nature of the encounter. Driving to a pre-agreed area, parking and calling her on the phone for discreet directions. Walking past people going about their daily business, delightfully oblivious to your inner excitement as you approach the forbidden holy grail. That little frission of fear as you enter the unknown. The adrenaline rush as you approach the door, navigate lifts and stairwells and locate the gateway to divine escapism.

The neatly defined parameters. No social minefields to negotiate, no body language to read. It is understood that your donation and your presence are the sole necessity. There will be no rejection, no realistic possibility of failure. The currency of intimate bodily contact is universally understood.
That first contact. The smiles, the gentle kisses, the little introductory chat, the slightly nervous derobing.

The fascinating entity that is the female body. The soft skin, the gentle curves, the tan lines, the cascading hair, the inviting lips. And then down to the intimate. The beautiful nipples cresting those soft breasts, the eternally fascinating pussy, the sweep of those milk white buttocks.

The thrill of the intimate. Gently taking a nipple between your lips, sucking it so slowly, curling your tongue around it with care. Moving down to her soft, warm pussy, drinking in that heady lake of pleasure, exploring with your tongue, listening for those soft moans of pleasure. The delight of finding it moist, then wet, then moving involuntarily beneath your tongue.

The joy of giving. Hearing those soft moans rise to a crescendo, feeling warm liquid cascade over your tongue, the desperation as she grasps the sheets, your hair, anything within reach, as she cries out in ecstacy. Your gift to her, the wonderful satisfaction of knowing you have pleased, the warm smile as you return to her and kiss passionately once again.

The joy of recieving. Feeling those soft lips envelope your cock, gently sliding up and down, driving you to paroxsyms of ecstacy. Stopping for a moment as she allows her fingers to tease the shaft, bringing you closer to that ultimate moment. Then watching as it disappears into her mouth once more. Writhing with joy on the bed as she controls your world completely and utterly for interminable moments.
The moment of togetherness. Slipping on the condom, sometimes, wonderfully, with her teeth, the gorgeous warmth as she slips herself onto you, thrusting into that beautiful innerness, caressing her breasts as you smile up at her in absolute gratitude. Rolling over to reverse roles. Thrusting inside her, kissing passionately, fingers intertwined.

The point of climax. Sometimes in, sometimes out. Sometimes by hand, sometimes by mouth and tongue. That incredible, life affirming feeling as you orgasm at the whim of another, as you cry out in that moment of absolute surrender.

The afterglow. Lying together in a warm breathless, embrace. Talking about Venice. Or shopping. Or kittens. Laughing together. Kissing gently, almost shyly. Gazing into the eyes of this wonderful, intimate stranger. Dressing slowly, still chatting, accepting that parting embrace. Stepping out into the air, the bustle of everyday life, feeling that spring in your step, that subtle little smile, the assurity that life is good. Absolute completeness.

No comments:

Post a Comment