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Copyright 2015, 2020 Lisa Summers
All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Melissa Holloway. Her mother had hired me to teach her how to understand female sexual response, so that she wouldn’t be disappointed by her new husband on her honeymoon. Her mother had the idea that a woman – a girl, really – should be able to instruct her man in how to satisfy her. And what better teacher than a lesbian prostitute? That’s where I came in.
My name is Laura Hendricks, I’m female, 20, a college student and I have sex with selected women for money. Most of them are housewives dissatisfied with their husbands, or professional women who just don’t have time or the inclination for a relationship, and who prefer women to make them happy. Which I do, very well. I like to think it’s because I’m a Psychology major and I try to analyze each transaction to see how I can make it as satisfactory as possible for the clients.
It’s a business – I have no view of it otherwise – and I also have no moral qualms about it, or about indulging in extreme and very kinky practices if that’s what the client desires. And of course, it’s all about desire, isn’t it?
What Melissa’s mother wanted for her 18 year old daughter sounded strange to me, as it may have to you, but as my job titles of “escort,” “courtesan,” and “companion” imply, I’ll do most anything interesting for money. As long as it involved a woman. I was fine with taking this job, but it was probably going to be some boring sessions of ‘Have him caress you here’ kind of stuff, very soft core, almost PG-rated. Not much fun for me, as I really do enjoy fucking women.
That was before I found myself falling for her.
She was cute, with short brown hair, brown eyes, nice breasts and ass, but mostly a beautiful, warm smile from her head to her feet. I think anyone would fall in love with her, including a girl who fucks other girls for money.
For the first time in a long time, I found myself masturbating to images of her in my mind – keep in mind that I usually come two, three, or more times a day just as part of my job! Trying to balance my crush on her with servicing my regular female clients was becoming tiring…
“Alright, I’ll see you on Friday,” Shelton Blake said, scowling, as he gave his wife Susan a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, then left for the airport in his Mercedes W212. She peered through the window at her fat, balding husband as the car edged down the street, and then smiled to herself.
“Hi, Laura,” she said into her cell phone. “You can come over at 1 o’clock, as we planned.” She idly scratched at her crotch as she walked to the bathroom for a leisurely shower.
“I’ll want to wear a particularly lovely fragrance for Laura today,” she thought.
“Don’t you look lovely,” I said as I entered Susan Blake’s house at precisely 1. “Your hair is beautiful. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week!” It doesn’t hurt to let the clients know that they’re desirable and wanted. Goodness knows their husbands don’t. To be honest, though, I don’t know if it would make any difference if husbands did actually look at their wives once in a while. Even if a husband is good and kind and helps old ladies across the street every 5 minutes, I don’t think that will make him any better at making his wife cum.
Sadly, most men remain ignorant of how to excite a woman, mainly through their natural impatience. Women are slow to ignite and men just aren’t programmed to work on that basis. It’s something that Mother Nature screwed up on when she was designing dicks and pussies, but believe me, I’m okay with that, as it makes for a very lucrative career for women like me.
Where a man will feel as though he’s treating his woman well by spending 15 minutes on foreplay, I’ll spend 30 minutes just on kissing her, but it’s really rather organic. Many times a client doesn’t want an orgasm, she only wants to be held…and understood.
And I understood Susan very well.
“Iced tea?” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied. After I tasted it I asked her how she made it taste so fresh.
She giggled. “My secret is a drop of peppermint extract. But not more than one, it overpowers it.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I’m going to start doing that,” I said, smiling.
I continued. “May I ask a favor?”
She looked surprised. “Of course.”
“May I kiss your cheek? I’ve been staring at you there since I walked in. Your skin is so smooth, and lovely, well…it’s mouthwatering.”
She giggled again. “I’d like that…very much,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper.
I kissed her cheek, plump and already glowing with a nascent blush. “Mmm,” I murmured, looking deep into her brown eyes. “Your skin is so perfect, it makes you look like a teenager.”
She laughed throatily. “Oh, you. You know I’m, well, past 21 at least!”
“I know,” I said. “But Anadolu Yakası Escort I always expect to see you walking on a college campus somewhere, or finding your high school textbooks carelessly strewn on the sofa when I visit.” She laughed. Sometimes the most outrageously fraudulent lies are the most easily believed. And we all want to be young. I am young, at 20 years old, and my clients want to be too. Susan was 38, but she still had some teenager left in her and along with pleasure, that was something I could bring out again in her.
“Oh darling,” she said, stroking my long blonde hair with her fingertips. “You are such a liar…and I love you for it.”
“Just for that?” I said, my eyebrow arched inquisitively. I returned the favor, stroking her brown hair with its medium length but matronly cut.
“Mmm, well also for your sweet body, and the way you touch me…you’re so addicting,” she whispered. Then we kissed, our arms around each other, the warm, soft sweetness of her breasts pressing into mine, her soft moans of pleasure combining with my own.
Her hair smelled of maple syrup and bacon, the breakfast that she’d made for her ungrateful husband, and then eaten by herself when he rejected it…mixed with the scent of a fruity body splash, something berryish.
“I smell sweet syrup on you,” I whispered in her ear. “And something like blackberries, I think…may I drizzle some on your naked breasts, then slowly lap up your sweetness with my tongue?” She shivered.
“Of course, I’d love that,” she murmured. “But I’ve even sweeter liquids elsewhere.” Then it was my turn to shiver. I love it when my women are slowly easing into the mood. I caressed her hair.
“If you’re not going to grow your hair out, have you thought of a pixie cut?” I said.
“Do you think?” she said, looking into my blue eyes again. “Would that be too much?”
“I think you’d look very nice,” I said. “And your sweet neck would be more visible…and it’s so lusciously edible.” She smiled. Things were coming along nicely.
And then it happened.
“Isn’t this cozy?” A woman’s voice came from the direction of the front door. We turned to see a tall redhead, dressed in a trench coat, a broad hat tilted over one eye like a femme fatale in a 40’s film noir. She would have been slightly ridiculous if she weren’t also kind of menacing.
“Who…who are you?” Susan quavered, looking from me to the woman, then back to me. “Laura…?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
The woman looked contemptuously at both of us. “I’m a private detective, I was hired by your husband because he was growing suspicious of you, thinking you might have a boyfriend on the side. It looks like he was almost right. But I’m sure he would be astounded to discover that his wife is a filthy lesbian.” She drew out the three syllables in a hiss.
There was a brief silence as I worked her words around in my head, like a dog gnawing at a bone.
“‘Would be astounded?'” I repeated. “Does that mean there’s some bargaining room here?”
I’ve learned in my short life that everything is negotiable and everything can be bought. It’s just a matter of having something the other person wants, or the payment that they require.
Susan looked at me as though I’d just slain a dragon breathing fire. I smiled quickly at her.
“Be brave,” I said, “And know that I love you…no matter what it takes.” Susan smiled back at me, but her lips quivered. She stood to lose a lot if her husband divorced her for cause.
“You’re very perceptive,” the redhead said. “Yes, under certain conditions I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut.” Susan closed her eyes, her fear and sense of a possible way out crashing together inside her like waves on a rocky shoreline.
“And those conditions are?” I said.
“Well, money of course,” she said. “And perhaps a little playtime, here and now, featuring the both of you.”
Susan looked surprised. I think she had imagined that she and I were the only lesbians on earth, and it was stunning to her to hear that other women might be interested too. She was such a sheltered woman – in spite of my best efforts to teach her the pleasures available to her as a woman loving other women.
“Meaning what?” I asked, as Susan clung to me.
“I like to play with women, too,” she said. “I’m not quite as puritanical as my client, your husband,” she replied smoothly. “I’m sure you’ll both enjoy yourselves…shall we?”
“Susan?” I asked. After all, it was her life, and she was my client.
“I suppose,” she replied timorously. I could see her eyeing the redhead’s looks, and evidently she passed muster. “But afterwards, you’ll go away and not say anything to my husband?”
“You have my word,” the redhead answered, with a sneer.
She removed her trench coat and hat. Her long, flowing red hair fell in ringlets across her shoulders. She looked younger without the hat, in her mid-twenties, and her soft features gave her a very appealing look, Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan hard to reconcile with her harsh demeanor. She was dressed rather informally in a long-sleeve blue work shirt and tight denim jeans, an outfit I often enjoy wearing myself. If I saw her walk past me in the mall, I’d have turned to stare and creamed a little in my own jeans.
“Oh my,” said Susan. I felt her shiver again in my arms.
“My name is Amy,” the woman said. “I know, it doesn’t go with my look, but it isn’t my real name anyway – it’ll just give you something to remember me by…but right now you can call me Mistress.”
“Oh my,” Susan repeated, but I think for a slightly different reason this time. She shivered in a way that reminded me of her preludes to orgasm. “Yes, Mistress.”
The redhead smiled.
“Come on, let’s go to your bedroom,” Amy said, leading the way. “I know the layout.”
“You do?” Susan said, surprised. The woman stared at her.”Um, Mistress.” Susan was practically volunteering to be abused by the woman. I like that in a client.
“I’m very good at what I do,” the attractive redhead said.
“Apparently,” I murmured. Susan just stared up at me as we walked together behind Amy.
“What do you think she’s going to do?” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just don’t let her tie you to the bed,” I whispered.
“Now, I’m going to tie you to the bed, Susan,” Amy announced, turning to face us. I thought that Susan was going to start crying.
“Let’s play it by ear,” I whispered in Susan’s ear. “Okay,” I said out loud to Amy.
“Glad you agree,” Amy said with a smirk. “And keep the whispering to your girlfriend to a minimum. When you two dykes are cheating on her husband like a couple of slutty cunts and you get caught fucking each other, you lose any rights to privacy or being treated nicely.”
I don’t like being talked to like that, certainly not by a man, but not even by another woman. The man who did that, I’d fuck over. The woman I’d just…fuck. I’d have to see how things went then, but I knew that I’d get my chance at this hot bitch eventually.
“Susan, take some of the silk scarves out of your scarf drawer…the third one from the top,” she said, grinning. Susan stared at her, and then moved to do as she was ordered. “You may take your favorites,” Amy added. “You’re going to be very close to them.\
When Susan had a handful she looked at Amy.
“Now strip down to your bra and panties,” Amy ordered.
Susan looked at me, and I nodded. It seemed that we had little choice, and if it had come to it, I believed that I could physically overpower Amy if need be. Although I service women only, it can be dangerous to be in intimate circumstances with strangers, so I work out often enough to handle someone near my size, as long as they’re not armed.
Susan looked so cute stripped down. She had dressed prettily for me, and her body was fine. Sure, she was a little plump and had a little belly roll – just a little one when she bent over – but I challenge you to find a normal woman who has no flaws, away from Photoshop. I felt a little tingle in my pussy looking at her. I hoped that my role in the so-called ‘playtime’ would involve eating out Susan, as I could see a quite prominent wet spot in the crotch of her panties.
“I wore these for you,” she whispered, looking at me with need in her eyes. She was definitely getting turned on, for whatever reason.
“That’s a good girl,” Amy said. She turned to me. “Now, you tie her to the bed – her wrists only.” I did as I was told, making sure that Susan was comfortable. I thought about making the ties easy to get out of, but I’m no MacGyver and I really only know one knot, so it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t likely to get out.
Then Amy walked over to me. “You’re way overdressed to have any fun, Laura,” she said.
“You know my name,” I said.
“I know a lot about you,” the redhead sneered.
Yeah, I was going to have to get even with this bitch when I got the chance. She held my wrists at my sides and leaned in and kissed me, a lingering, hot kiss that brought our breaths as well as lips and tongues into warm, wet contact, as I became acutely aware of her body next to mine, her breasts full and soft, her hips insistent.
With her holding my wrists, rendering me at least symbolically vulnerable to her, I began to relax involuntarily, my body pressing back into hers, my pussy wetting as the familiar sensation of a desirable female body on mine set up all my conditioned responses. I moaned with pleasure, and Amy chuckled into my mouth.
We both turned to look when Susan moaned too, her thighs crossing and uncrossing as she sought to satisfy the growing itch in her clit. The wet spot was growing too.
Amy brought her hand down between my legs – I was wearing a skirt for a change, as I like to look pretty and feminine for my clients unless they specifically ask otherwise. My own preference is to butch it up some on my own time Escort Anadolu Yakası – as butch as a long-haired blonde coed can be, anyway. Her fingertips skated over my inner thighs on the way to my center. I shivered, already experiencing a mini-orgasm at the pleasure of another woman’s touch so close to my cunt.
“God, yes,” I whispered, as Amy leaned in to kiss my throat, my utter vulnerability so great in my imagination, with teeth at my throat and my two hands in her iron grip – or so it seemed anyway, to my fevered and excited libido. Her finger pressed hard into my panties along my lips, and then she lightly smacked my clit and made me jump.
“That’s for later,” she said. “Right now I want to fuck Susan and that tasty little cunt of hers.” Susan squirmed even harder at that.
“Undress.” Amy said it imperiously, as if she expected no objection on my part. So…I did, and as seductively as possible. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, turning sideways as if in modesty, but in reality giving both women a nice shot of my boob through the gap between buttons, then where the blouse fell open. I smiled to myself when I saw Amy lick her lips.
Finally I pulled the blouse off, first off one shoulder, then the other as it fell to my midriff, then to my hips, finally to the floor. My nipples were quite erect, and my breasts are a nice, full even shape, my nipples pink and very suckable. Both Susan and Amy groaned. Amy turned to Susan.
“Feeling ignored? Want some pussy?”
Susan nodded vigorously. “Yesss,” she gasped. “God…my pussy hurts I want it so much.”
“Fuck you, slut,” Amy sneered. “You’re going to suffer.” She turned back to me.
“I like the top of Laura, let’s see how the bottom looks.”
Pretending to misunderstand, I turned for her, showing her my ass and the back of my calves, as the light skirt swirled around my knees. I looked over my shoulder coquettishly, but she just gestured for me to strip. Pouting, I unzipped the side, then shimmied the skirt off my hips to the floor, leaving me in a pair of bikini panties.
“Now, that is nice,” Amy said, sauntering over to me. She pushed her hand in between my thighs, cupping my vulva.
“Hot little cunt,” she remarked, then pulled her hand away and brought it to her face. “Wet and sweet too,” she added, sniffing her hand. I could have pointed out that wet was a chronic condition for me, particularly when in a bedroom with two other attractive women.
“Take your panties down, to mid thigh,” she said.
I hesitated, and then shimmied the thin fabric down off my hips, the air slightly cool on my wet slit. It felt odd to stop at mid thigh, but very erotic too. My hips rotated slightly as I contemplated my pussy on parade for both of them. Susan moaned, and Amy pursed her lips as though assessing me.
“Very pretty,” she said, as she ran her index finger directly over my labia, towards my clit. “Very pretty indeed.”
“But I’m in the mood for you to be a toy for Susan, right now,” she said. She walked over to Susan’s dresser and went straight to the third drawer down, where she kept her bras and panties. Rooting around, she emerged with a vibrator.
“Ahh,” she said appreciatively. “You must have a chronically sore neck, hmm? Particularly when your husband has taken his odious self out to work?” She turned it on, holding it against her face, the buzzing subdued as it pressed into her cheek
“So disappointing,” she said. “I don’t smell your pussy on it” – she sniffed it from top to bottom – “or your tight little filthy asshole either. I’m sure that’s going to change today.” Her smile was equal parts erotic and threatening.
She held the tip as it buzzed against the lower part of my pussy lips. “Am I doing it right, umm, Laura?” she said. Context is everything. If I had placed it there myself the pleasure would have been minimal. But under the control of this dominant woman it sent quick chills of delight through me, and I wriggled from the hot voltage those chills created.
“Now, now, it’s not going to hurt you, baby…and I think that you know very well how much pleasure I can bring you with it. Get it nice and wet…your girlfriend – or rather, my client’s wife, who took a vow to have none other than him in her bed, fucking her – is going to be sucking on it once you’ve coated it with your thick and creamy sweet essence.”
Susan moaned, and twisted on the bed. “God…you bitch…” she said.
Amy smiled. “You’re not angry, my dear – you’re horny, and you want some attention, don’t you…” Susan subsided into silence. “I thought so.”
Then Amy slipped the vibrator inside me, twisting it as she did, to smoothly coat it with my copious cream, and it slid in easily. I could even feel a hot trickle of feminine liquid slip down my inner thigh. Amy used the hard, dildo-shaped vibrator in a practiced manner, fucking me with it, in and out, again and again, slowly and then even more tantalizingly slowly, the second knuckle of her thumb brushing over my increasingly aroused clit as she pushed in. I rose up on my toes each time, as she was driving me toward orgasm, and I didn’t want to lose control.
Then she kissed me as she continued fucking me, and my arms spontaneously went around her, one around her neck, the other around her body, my nipples pressing into the rough fabric of her chambray shirt, which just stimulated me further.
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