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The following is a work of fiction – for now. It describes a fantasy I fully intend to make as real as possible. Those who have advice regarding the scenario I spin below are welcome to contact me, I am pleased to hear from you!
Although this story is titled as part 2, it is not necessary to read part 1 before enjoying this one.
A while ago I spun a little fantasy about what might happen if I followed through on a half-baked plan to go to a private modeling studio and get a two-girl show. Of course, since it was just a fantasy, I indulged myself and came up with an unlikely scenario that essentially turned a lesbian show into a three-way fuck. The idea that the fantasy was actually achievable is quite a turn on for me, and I hope for my readers! Therefore, I’ve decided to spin another tale, another potentially real-life situation.
Just to give some background to those who missed my first tale, I’m a guy with an obsession with lesbian sex and a frigid wife. Not that I expect my wife to invite another woman into our bed, I’d just like her to enjoy plain old recreational sex. We get frisky every month or so, and she pretty much just lies there, won’t try anything the least bit exotic, and doesn’t seem to have a single erogenous zone on her entire body. For someone like me, who still has an eighteen-year-old libedo in a thirty-year-old shell, that’s just not good enough! So, I spend a lot of time on the internet jerking off, and lately I’ve become more and more interested in the idea of going out and getting from a pro what my wife won’t give me.
One way I could achieve this, it occurs to me, is to go on a business trip somewhere where prostitution is legal. The company I work for has offices in Florida, Vegas, and New Orleans, and while I’m not completely sure of the legality of whoring in such places, I know that it is definitely available. So, dear readers, indulge me if you will in another fantasy episode, one where I find myself with an overnight layover in Las Vegas…
* * * * *
“So there’s no flights out to Houston until morning, what with all the rain. I’m stuck here for the night.”
“Oh, poor you,” my wife said half-mockingly over the phone. “Trapped in Las Vegas all by yourself. Whatever will you do?”
Nothing you’ll ever find out about, I thought to myself. “Well, I might go drop twenty or forty bucks on a blackjack table, but I’m actually pretty tired. I’ll probably be in bed before eleven.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Love you!”
“I love you too,” I said truthfully. (As a side note, I do love my wife dearly. Except for the sex thing, she’s everything I could ever want in a woman. But don’t be too quick to condemn me as a jerk and a cad until you’ve been as frustrated as I, having tried for five years to spice up the sex life and had it all go to nothing.)
I hung up the phone. Unfortunately, I didn’t really have much in the way of spending cash – I hadn’t come to Vegas expecting to stay more than an hour between flights. The forty I intended to gamble could have bought me a cover charge and a lapdance, but that was about it, and that just wouldn’t be good enough. I couldn’t use a credit card – my wife does the finances. So, the only hope I had of turning my layover into a lay was to get lucky at the tables.
To make a long story short, I left the blackjack table with a little over $800 in my pocket. Luck had indeed smiled on me!
Anyone who’s been to Vegas knows that it’s easy to find adult entertainment; you just walk down the strip and collect flyers that people pass out on the street corners. By the time I’d strolled from the Excalibur to the Stratosphere, I had an impressive stack. I took the monorail back to my hotel and started flipping through them, looking for something that sounded fun. I also wanted to make sure I didn’t get hit with a scam, and this is where my experience surfing the net for porn came in handy – many of the ads had pictures I recognized as being professional porn stars, not escorts, so I dismissed them out of hand (if they were dishonest about their pictures, who knew what else they lied about?). I avoided the ones that were way too expensive, as I wanted to make sure I had some money to tip for extra services. I thought long and hard (pun intended) about hiring two girls, but there would be an occasion for that later and I thought it best to proceed a step at a time.
I eventually found what I was looking for, an “escort service” that charged $300 for a two-hour session. I figured that that would leave me with plenty left over for a tip and some extra cash to bring home. They also had a website, which I accessed with my laptop and found some pictures of the girls that looked realistic enough that I felt I wouldn’t get scammed. It sounded like I’d found my entertainment for the evening! The thrill of excitement and anticipation made my heart pound as I dialed the number from my bed.
I got a recording. “Good evening, and thank you for calling Diana’s Vegas Escorts. Başakşehir Escort In a moment, you will be connected to one of our operators. Please note that you must be eighteen years of age to use our services, and that all information is held in the strictest confidence. Stay on the line… we’ll be with you shortly.”
The voice was breathy and sensuous, enough to let me know that I had found a genuine “full service” escort agency and not one that actually provided a professional no-funny-business date for the evening. I waited with my mouth growing dry and my cock twisting in my pants.
“Hello, Diane’s Vegas Escorts. This is Veronica, may I help you?”
I tried to swallow, but there was nothing there. “Hi, I’d like to request an escort for the evening, please.”
“Certainly. May I have your credit card information for age verification and to hold your appointment?”
I had expected this, but it made me nervous – the wife might see the records. “Is the billing discreet?” I asked.
“Of course, all billing is done under the name of DVS Services and looks exactly like an ATM charge. We will run your card for the amount of twenty-one dollars so that it appears you simply withdrew that from your account in cash, and you may deduct the twenty from the service charge if you wish.”
I knew I might be scammed, but I decided to take the risk, and gave my card number. I was already spinning a story in my head for how I’d explain it to the wife (Honey, look, I won at the tables, but then I locked up the cash in my room safe and totally forgot to keep a twenty in my pocket for dinner, so I had to use the ATM!).
“Thank you, sir. Now, what can we do for you? Did you have a preference for what sort of woman we should send?
I took a deep breath. I had done some research before jumping into this, and had learned a little about some of the dos and don’ts. One thing I knew not to do was to make any mention of sex – that would get me hung up on quickly. I assumed that they would also be put off by such euphemisms as “Full Service” or even “uninhibited”. One of the reasons I was asking for only one woman was that I really had no idea of how to get across the idea that I wanted a lesbian show without coming out and saying it.
I had decided in advance that I would be honest about my “virginity” and trust that they’d be more interested in treating a potential repeat customer than they would be in scamming a newbie. “I’ve never hired an escort before,” I said. “So I’d like somebody who’s accustomed to dealing with new customers, you know, someone who can help me stay comfortable and relaxed, with an open personality.”
“That’s great! We’re certainly pleased that you chose to use our services tonight, with so many to pick from. Are there any specific physical attributes that you would prefer?”
I felt strange, as if I were ordering from a catalog or something, but it was also rather exciting. “I prefer women with large breasts,” I said, “and a narrow waist and long legs appeal to me as well. I’d also like to have some idea of how to make her evening as pleasant as possible, so once you have someone for me, I’d like to know what her favorite flowers are, if she has a favorite wine, that sort of thing.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, I know your escort will be pleased. What time should she arrive?”
It was a little after eight by my watch. “Would a two-hour appointment from ten o’clock to midnight be doable?”
“Absolutely. It looks like Desiree is available tonight, I think she would be perfect for you. Can you leave a number she can reach you at?”
“She’ll call me, then?” I hadn’t expected that.
“We just set the appointments. It’s up to our individual escorts to call you and arrange the details. Of course, if you don’t receive a call within the next half hour, you can call us back and we’ll make new arrangements. But Desiree always calls, don’t worry!”
“Can you tell me about her preferences, you know, for wine and flowers?”
“Of course, I’m sorry. Desiree prefers red roses and champagne, and she likes romantic saxophone music.”
I hadn’t thought of the music. Fortunately, I had my laptop with its mp3 collection, and I knew I could put together something. “Well, I guess we’re all set then,” I said. I gave the hotel room number.
“Thank you for calling Diana’s Vegas Escorts. Enjoy your evening!”
* * * * *
I deliberately chose not to look up Desiree’s pictures on the escort agency’s website, preferring to be surprised. Waiting for her call taxed my nerves fairly severely. I sat and figeted, unable to pass the time by watching TV, unable to do much at all in fact except sit and let my legs shake themselves off.
When the phone did ring five years later (minutes, years, whatever) I just about jumped through the ceiling. I swallowed hard, picked it up, and said, “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Desiree,” said the pleasant voice at the other end. “Is _______ there?”
“This Başakşehir Escort Bayan is he,” I said as calmly as possible.
“I’m calling because you made an appointment with Diane’s Vegas Escorts, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Well, wait no longer,” she said coyly. “I understand this is your first time hiring an escort, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’re going to have a great time tonight. Just so we have all the business taken care of, I charge $300 for two hours of my time, and tips are welcome at your discretion. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Definitely.”
“Great! Did you have any special plans?”
I had hoped to fuck your pussy deep and hard, I thought to myself. “I really just wanted some companionship tonight. I’m on a business trip and feeling a little lonely. A couple of hours in the company of a charming woman seemed like an excellent way to spend the evening.”
“Sounds lovely,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I can be there at ten o’clock. I’m really looking forward to meeting you!”
“The feeling is mutual,” I said, and hung up. I had an hour and a half to get ready.
* * * * *
By quarter to ten, I had everything set. A bottle of bubbly chilled in an elegant ice bucket on a stand, provided by the hotel. Two crystal flutes stood nearby. A vase with a dozen red roses stood between them, and I had placed an additional flower on the pillow of the nearby bed, hoping that the subtle statement would make clear what my intentions were for the evening. I had neglected to ask about scented candles, but I figured that candlelight would be welcome so I lit a dozen of them around the room. I was dressed all in black, freshly showered and shaved, spritzed with Drakkar and ready for action. My research had told me that escorts expect their customers to be clean and to do a little preparation – not that I wouldn’t have showered anyway, but I was grateful that I had done the preliminary work so that I had some idea of what was expected of me, what to say, and what not to say.
I forced myself to relax, tossed down a shot of peppermint schnapps to calm my nerves and sweeten my breath at the same time, and waited.
At about five minutes after ten, I began to get somewhat nervous. Just as I was making up my mind to give her until 10:15 to show up before I called the agency, I heard a knock at the door. This was it!
I checked myself one last time in the mirror, feeling as nervous as a teenager on his junior prom night, and opened the door with a trembling hand.
There she was.
Her appearance surprised me; for some reason, I had been expecting a Caucasian woman. Desiree was black, more of a deep mocha skin tone than a dark chocolate. Her eyes were golden brown, and her lips were full and touched with dark, dark red. Her hair was straight and long with a blonde highlight running from her forehead all the way back. Her tight, wine-colored evening gown stretched tight around her sculpted body, especially over her generous round breasts which stood well out from her slim figure. In her five-inch heels, she stood with her eyes just about level with my chin (I’m a tall guy).
She was very beautiful, very sexy, and exciting.
“I think you like what you see,” she said with a wry smile. I realized that I’d been staring like a schoolboy, and flushed with embarrassment.
“Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting such a lovely woman,” I replied in what I hoped was a suave manner.
She giggled lightly. “Aren’t you the charmer?” she said.
“Please, come in,” I invited.
Desiree entered the room, and it seemed to me that she deliberately gave me a fine view of her round and firm bottom. I’m not much of an ass guy, but hers was definitely a piece of work whether one is into that or not. I offered by way of gesture to take her coat (black fur) and she slid gracefully out of it, revealing smooth, dark shoulders. I hung her coat by the door and joined her by the champagne bucket.
“Someone’s done their homework,” she said with a smile when she saw the roses and champagne. “Very thoughtful of you. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“I certainly hope so,” I said as I extracted the bottle and twisted out the cork with a gentle -pop-. She took the filled glass I offered and clinked with mine.
“What shall we drink to?” she asked.
“A most enjoyable evening,” I said. “At the moment, I don’t feel like thinking any further ahead than that.”
“Sounds good to me,” she sparkled, and sipped her champagne through luscious lips.
“I’d rather not be preoccupied with payment either,” I said, “so just know that the agreed hourly fee is on the dresser, there.”
She nodded briefly, and I was glad to have that out of the way. “Let’s get to know each other a little, shall we?” she asked, and sat down. I took the other chair and sipped champagne. I knew that she Escort Başakşehir was going to need to scope me out a bit, make sure I was on the level and that I was a customer she’d be willing to deal with; I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long! “What brings you to Vegas?”
“A layover gone wrong,” I answered. “I was planning on being here for an hour and got stuck overnight.”
“How very fortunate,” she said with a wink and a smile. “How’d you do at the slots?”
“Never touch the things. I’m a blackjack man. I did well enough, came back a little richer than when I left.” I didn’t want to name amounts, as I figured she might be trying to figure out how much of a tip she could work out of me.
“Oh, good for you! It’s fun to win in Vegas.”
“More fun than losing, definitely.”
We both chuckled a bit. I knew that she was essentially paid to laugh at my wit and to pretend she was fascinated with me, but I could live with that for one evening.
“So, I understand you’ve never hired a professional escort before?” she asked.
“Never.”
“Mm. You know, I can’t help but find that a little exciting. And just so you know, you’re doing great so far.” She sipped her champagne and relaxed in her chair a bit. “You really know how to treat a woman right.”
It was just more flattery, but my male ego couldn’t help but swell a little bit. “I would imagine that a beautiful woman like yourself inspires men to be at their best.”
“Thank you!” she said with a bright smile. “You’re such a charmer. I think our little toast to an enjoyable evening was right on target. We’re going to have an absolutely fabulous time, sugar.”
Soon, I hope, I thought to myself. I didn’t mind a little small talk, but that wasn’t what I was paying her for.
Fortunately, Desiree seemed to come to the conclusion that I’d impressed her enough. “Tell you what, honey; I’m going to go freshen up a bit. Why don’t you get nice and comfortable for me, and I’ll be right back.”
She stood up and sexed her way into the bathroom. I knew that “get comfortable” meant get naked; I had read that on a helpful website about escort etiquette. To protect herself from a sting operation, she had to let me be the one who initiated sex. I tossed down the rest of my champagne and stripped out of my clothes, tossing them out of sight into the closet. Since I felt terribly exposed with nothing on, I draped a pillowcase across my lap, figuring I could toss it aside quickly if need be. It pitched like a tent over my stiffening rod.
After a couple of minutes, Desiree came back out, still dressed. I wondered for a moment if I hadn’t done something terribly wrong, but the look on her face instantly told me otherwise. Her smiling lips were now panting and heavy, her eyes smouldering, her hands stroking her own body through her dress. Her eyes dropped to the pillowcase on my lap, and she raised an eyebrow at me and walked around to the back of the chair.
I got the hint. The pillowcase was tossed aside.
I felt cool, delicate hands on my bare shoulders, and a warm breath in my ear as Desiree slid around in front of me and knelt with her knees on either side of my chair, straddling my lap. “What gets you hot?” she asked in a voice an octave lower than her conversational tone.
“At the moment, you do,” I replied, too nervous to say what I really meant.
“Do you like my body?”
“Very much.”
“Go on, then…” She thrust her breasts toward me in a clear invitation.
I reached up and laid a hand on each of her luscious mounds, and felt a certain tension break. With that touch, I had committed myself to our little escapade and made clear my intent. There would be no more dancing around the issue.
“Do you want to tell me what you like, or should I just take it from here?” she asked.
“I…” Swallowing hard, I tried to say the words that just wouldn’t come. “I’ve heard that escorts won’t usually do this, but I really like deep tongue kissing, and you have the most incredible lips…”
“Most won’t,” she agreed. “But… I do.”
Her last words were whispered half an inch away from my own lips, and I eagerly met her mouth and felt her probing tongue a moment later. I had never kissed a black girl before, and her full and luscious lips were like nothing I’d ever felt. Her tongue swam deliciously around in my mouth, thrusting deeply in a way that drove me nearly wild. My wife would never kiss this way, and the few times I had felt such a deep kiss had fired me up so much I could barely hold my load. Desiree topped them all.
After what seemed like an eternity and a heartbeat at the same time, she disengaged from me and stood up, turning her back. “I need some help with my zipper,” she whispered.
I stood up behind her and pulled her zipper down as slowly as I could stand, not wanting to break the tensely erotic mood she had created. Over her shoulder, I could see the dress slowly slide down in the front, revealing more and more of her fabulous globes. I had known from the first touch that they were “enhanced”, but the sheer size of them turned me on no matter that they were mostly fake. The zipper went all the way down to her ass, and when I was finished she leaned slightly forward to let her dress simply fall off her body.
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