Bare Legs

‘Stand up.’

I knew I could of course stand and turn and walk out. He won’t have stopped me. He couldn’t. But I didn’t even consider it. I was too much into the role by then and I wanted to see it through. I even thought of you sitting here and my coming back and telling you about it just as I am. I thought you wanted me to. So I stood.

‘Take off your dress.’

Not wanting to appear too eager, I raised an eyebrow.

‘I need to see. To be sure. These days a lot of young girls have tattoos and stuff that some men don’t like.’

‘I don’t have any tattoos or ‘stuff’.

Confidant that having come this far, I would do it, he kept staring at me.

My fingers were trembling so much—in excitement, not fear—well maybe a little fear—that I fumbled with the catch in the back. I didn’t want to ask him to help. I wanted to strip naked myself, and finally the catch came undone and I pulled the zipper down. The dress naturally started to fall. Before it dropped below my breasts I crossed my arms and caught it, held it for a moment, watching his eyes, which were on my chest. They opened wide when I let the dress go, then dove toward my groin. His tongue actually ran over his lips. I don’t think he was even aware of it. I shook the puddle of material from my feet and took a single step to the side, and stood completely naked but for the black patent heels. ‘Oh yessh,’ he slurred. ‘Oh my word, yessh. You always keep it shaved?’

I almost said, ‘My husband likes it that way’, but caught myself in time and merely said, ‘Yes.’

‘You are going to make some real money, honey. They’ll like that. It makes you seem even younger. But you’ve obvioussly already learned that. Turn around. Slowly. I want to see the other side.’

I was dizzy. Maybe from the martinis. Mostly from the situation. I had never just stood naked before a total stranger, had never felt so exposed, so on display, as though I were a tribal captive or a Roman slave girl or something. On wobbly legs I turned, which was not so easy. You know how high those heels are, you gave them to me. When my back was to him, I could feel his eyes burning into me, into my thighs, into the crack of my ass.

‘Hold it there, just like that.’

I stood, my feet a foot apart. I heard the rustling of clothes and a zipper. ‘All right. Turn back.’

I knew he had exposed his cock, but still it came as a shock, sticking out of his black pants, a fleshy purple flower blooming below his tux, as he sat there.

‘Is this part of the job?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he croaked.

‘Just you?’

‘And Kevin. The bartender.’

‘I met Kevin.’

‘Don’t worry. We know that time is money. And you aren’t the only girl. One more quick blowjob every now and then won’t kill you. And..’ His voice stopped.

‘And?’

‘And Rolf.’

‘Who is Rolf?’

‘The hotel manager. He has some peculiar tastes. Some of the girls don’t like him; some do. But don’t worry; it’ll probably be a long time before he gets around to you. And he understands if it is a one time thing.’

I pretended to be irritated. ‘So I have to keep three of you happy?’

‘I told you not you alone. Just every once in a while. It’s nothing.’ He was almost pleading.

I kicked off my shoes. I wanted to be completely naked. There was something primitive about it, atavistic. Nothing civilized. No shoes. Just a timelessly naked woman. I walked across the room and in one motion knelt between his knees.

His cock is average, I suppose. As you know I haven’t seen all that many, and none but yours for the past six years. It is smaller than yours and seemed somehow old. The end was shiny with precome. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to devour him. To swallow his cock whole. He moaned when I leaned forward and licked the fluid from the tip, then wraped my lips around him and engulfed him, sucking him deep into my mouth.

I don’t know what it tasted like: mushrooms perhaps. And the texture was different than yours, less hard, more spongy.

I gave him an all time great head job, if I do say so myself. But then so did he. I used my lips and my tongue—those little feathery licks you like--and my hands. Because he is not so big, I could take the whole thing into my mouth without choking.

Whenever I felt him swell that extra little bit that cocks do just before they come, I stopped, sometimes squeezing the base with my fingers, sometimes removing my mouth until his breathing slowed, sometimes sucking his balls into my mouth and licking his scrotum. The zipper was digging into him, but he didn’t complain.

And it was strange, because while this was absolutely about his pleasure—he didn’t touch me, didn’t lay a finger on me, did nothing for me—I was just there to serve him, just a hot mouth into which to spill his seed—as I sucked and stoked, I realized that I had the power, this tremendous power. He was the one who was helpless.

His breathing was ragged. I made him gasp. Whenever I slowed, removed my mouth, he groaned. His legs twitched. Except for his cock, which remained hard, I turned him to jelly.

Finally my jaw got tired and I let him come. I wanted it. I wanted it all. I actually had a mini-orgasm when the first spurt splashed against the roof of my mouth. I milked his balls. I milked his cock. He came a lot. No doubt he’d been fantasizing about me while you and I were having our drinks, but not really expecting it would happen. I sucked and swallowed and sucked and swallowed, until I had sucked him dry. When his deflated cock plopped from my lips, I opened the tip with my fingers and greedily licked the last drop of come from the canal.

I had never done anything like that: just got down and sucked a strange man’s cock. Not the slightest semblance of affection. Just sex. Just bringing him to orgasm. I was surprised at myself: I loved it. If I hadn’t had you to come home to, I would have sucked that plain little man back to hardness and fucked him senseless. But I liked just ending it there too. Abruptly. He did not move when I sat back on my heels. Nor when I stood and crossed to get my dress and shoes, which I carried into the bathroom.

Only when I came back out had he zipped up his pants and was standing at the bar.

‘That was the best I’ve ever had,” he said. ‘The very best.’

‘Thank you.’

I started for the door.

‘How will we get in touch with you?’

‘You won’t. I will get in touch with you.’

‘You’re on for next Tuesday?’

‘What time?’

‘Whenever you want?’

‘Early. 6:00.’

‘O.k.’

‘See you,’ I said and blew him a kiss across the room before opening the door and leaving. I found the guest elevator, rode down, got a cab, came home, talked to you, and,” Lisa rolled from the sofa onto her back on the carpet, lifted her skirt and opened her legs, “now I very much need to have my brains fucked out as promised.”

Deliberately I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock just as Yves must have done, before falling on her and sliding it home.

She screamed with an instant orgasm. Then came again as I continued pounding into her and asked, ‘Are you going back Tuesday?’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Maybe,’ I gasped and flooded her with my come for the first of many times that night.