I was frustrated at church yesterday. A conflict with a fellow staff member left me shaken and angry. (Anger is an emotion I’m extremely uncomfortable with, and I’m averse to conflict.) I was upset all day. My class didn’t go as well as I had hoped. I needed relief. Some men (and pastors) reach for a bottle after a bad day. I’m apt to order a woman. So I braved the frigid weather, rented a room at a hotel and called Tina at the service. She recommended “Chloe.” I showered, shaved, and waited for her to arrive.
I heard a knock at the door. A cute, petite blonde with shoulder-length hair had shown up. She wore a stylish black leather jacket and tight black pants. I invited her into my room, and, after she verified my identity, we sat at the edge of the bed. Chloe is in her mid-20s, but she looks younger. The smell of her perfume was pleasant. We awkwardly made small talk. She wants to return to school and teach math.
Then she leaned in and kissed me.
Before I knew it, we were undressing. I lay on the bed stripped down to my boxer briefs. Chloe was on top of me in only her black bra and panties. We made out for a while. I reached around her back to remove her bra. I was rewarded with a pair of B cup breasts with cute little nipples. I gently traced her areolas with my index finger. She pulled down my underwear and took my uncovered cock into her mouth. I ran my fingers through her soft blonde hair as she sucked me. I softly asked if I could get on top of her. She reached for a condom on the nightstand. As she spread her legs and I slid myself inside her, her ankles on my shoulders, the tumult of the day was a distant memory.
I collapsed on top of her.
“You’re different,” she said as we lay in bed afterward.
I inquired how so.
“You’re so quiet and shy. Not like most of my clients.”
We talked for a bit. She was seeing a guy, but the status of their relationship was undetermined. She had been escorting for about a year. “I don’t want to do this long-term,” she said.
She got up off the bed and retrieved her clothing. After she had dressed, she asked, “Do you want me to go now?” I sensed she wanted to leave. I accompanied her to the door. We said “Good night,” and she departed.
Lutheran Guilt 