“Are you okay with this?”

The first time I called the service, “Tina” went about verifying me. When she asked me where I worked, I hesitated before telling her that I work at a church. “We’ve dealt with a number of clients who are with the church,” she reassuringly told me.

This time I picked out “Ashley,” a self-described “Irish vixen” with pale skin, dark blonde hair, and green eyes. She arrived at my hotel room wearing a pretty blue dress that accented her ample cleavage. I handed her my driver’s license so she could verify my identity. Having learned that I worked for a church, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I reassured her that I was.

Then she slowly removed her dress and said somewhat seductively, “I can make your time with me very memorable. What do you like?”

I revealed my desires.

She lowered herself onto her knees and took my cock into her mouth. I caressed her hair as she stared into my eyes. I love having a woman on her knees servicing me. The sight of her submitting before my manhood reaffirms my masculinity.

We lay on the bed and talked for a long time. She had been reared in a repressive fundamentalist Christian household, but had since discovered a more progressive church where’s she’s encountered some “real” Christians. She had a young daughter with a Welsh name. After her daughter’s birth, she had suffered through a bout of postpartum depression.

As our hour progressed, she began manually stimulating me in preparation for intercourse. She tore open the condom wrapper and asked, “How do you want me?” I told her. She pressed my body down on the bed and climbed on top. My hands clasped her hips as she lowered herself onto my cock. Her tits bounced as her body rocked up and down on mine. Faster and harder, my hips bucked, our flesh slapping together. I unexpectedly and uncharacteristically came early. After we disengaged, I sheepishly confessed my embarrassment.

“Shit happens,” she said philosophically. “Cum happens.”

The alarm on her phone rang, signaling the end of our appointment. She called her driver, hurriedly got dressed, and, quoting Yoda, gave me a word of inspiration. I accompanied her to the door, where we said goodbye. Then she exited, heading into the cold winter night.