A luxury escort welcomes me in her apartment with a glass of champagne. She looks me up and down with lasciviousness and bites her lips as a sign that she likes what she has looked at. Of course I like it too since under her silk robe I can guess the round shape of her breasts and a couple of suggestive buttocks. As it is my wish, she does not wear underwear and her mount of Venus must be clean of menacing hairs, but I will take care of that later.
On the apartment there are two furniture placed facing each other, only separated by a coffee table where there are some books and magazines. First editions, she tells me, a gift from some clients almost as good in bed as they are in words. I recognize some of the names in the covers and I think that sleeping with that luxury escort is the equivalent of fucking all those writers, which makes me a bit horny. She asks me about what I like and I make my preferences clear. She nods and tells me that she has the right arsenal to take me where I have never been.
She takes me to a room where she has a special massage bed and asks me to undress and lie on my stomach. Once there she begins to smear me with an oil of delicious aroma that revolts my senses and makes me think of the most twisted scenes. I think about whether she, faithful to her profession to her profession, will have a lover and it occurs to me that, if she has one, he must have incredible sexual qualities to be able to satisfy someone who is dedicated precisely to sex. I imagine then being owned by the luxury escort who massages me and her lover.
My luxury escort takes me to places that had never arrived, it is true and not yet entered in my most noble parts. But the touch that exerts on my neck, my back and my buttocks has been enough for my skin to stand up. After several minutes, she asks me to turn around and my bristling nipples emerge. She touches me from the neck to the tip of my feet, with special caresses in those areas that make me wet and my open mouth longs to suck her lips and the opening in the middle of my legs cries for her fingers.
Just when I feel that I am going to go crazy with desire, my luxury escort begins to rub my lips gently, those from above and those from below, some with the mouth, the others with the hand. She advances until she reaches the maximum organ and, while kissing me, she introduces some fingers. She touches, caresses, rubs, massages, penetrates, fucks me with her hand and I ask for more. But she stops and looks for the implement I wanted so much, a pink dildo. She sits on my face to allow me to eat her pussy, with a clean mount of Venus, while she penetrates me, rubs me and makes me vibrate. I, twisting under her expert hands, want another member in the team with a hard meat hammer in the middle of the legs to possess me while she rubs or licks the peak.
That’s why when I reach the orgasm, I tell the luxury escort that the next time it will be with an extra accompaniment component, of her choice, so that they both possess me. Not because the session that just ended has left me disappointed, on the contrary, but her body and her touch and her sex led me to have fantasies that if I did not fulfill them, I would go crazy, and why not fulfill them? If she is there to please me, then I will ask for more.