The evening before Ash Wednesday. I confess self-mortification was not on my mind.

I spent the night of Fat Tuesday in a hotel room near the airport. Tina at the agency suggested “Jessica.” An hour later, there was a knock on my door.  I opened it and saw a young, petite brunette in a leather jacket and black mini skirt. After introducing ourselves, we sat on the bed. She’s relatively new to the profession. I asked her how she liked escorting.

“It’s better than I thought it’d be. It helps if you like sex!”

I confessed to being a bit nervous with someone I hadn’t seen before. She responded that hiring an escort shouldn’t produce anxiety since you’re going to get what you paid for. Then she unzipped my pants and slid her hand down my boxers. I began to kiss her and remove her clothes. I grabbed her tits and sucked on her nipples. Soon she was fingering herself.

“I’m so fucking horny!” she squealed.

My mouth made its way down her smooth stomach to her shaved mons pubis. My tongue entered her pussy. She was noticeably wet. I went down on her. She moaned.

She rose from the bed, then dropped to her knees in front of me. After teasing my balls, she flashed me a smile. She teased the head of my cock with her lips, then took me deep into her mouth. After several minutes of her servicing me, I couldn’t hold out any longer. I erupted in her mouth. Some of my cum spilled onto her chin.

She excused herself to the bathroom to spit. When she returned, we lay down on the bed and made out some more. She reached for a condom. I bent her over the bed. She begged me to spank her pert ass.

SMACK!

“I really need you to fuck me,” she pleaded.

I penetrated her and started fucking her from behind. As we went at it, her loud moans and cries of “Fuck me!” and “Yes!” filled the room. I have no doubt that whoever was in the room next door heard her. (I mischievously hoped it was a mom and dad tasked with explaining it to their kids.)

I pulled up to the budget motel. “Gem” had texted me that she had just returned with “supplies.” I knocked on the door, and she let me in. A self-described “young MILF” in her mid-20’s with long brown hair and an average build, she met me wearing a tight sweater and a black miniskirt. She lightly kissed my neck.

“I like your sweater.”

She helped me take it off and unzipped my pants. She took her top off, revealing a lacy bra. I placed the donation on the table. She quickly stripped off the rest of her clothes, and soon we were both naked on the bed. I started playing with her perky tits – her sizable nipples hardened – and caressed her ass. My fingers then ran through her trimmed bush. She noticed that my cock was rock-hard and took me into her mouth. I placed my hand on the back of her head to guide her as she orally pleasured me. She climbed on top of me. She started slowly moving her hips in a circular motion, then accelerated her pace as her breasts bounced up and down in my face. She slid her hand down and manually stimulated her clit. My hands clenched her hips as my pelvis thrust off the bed. After several minutes, I cried out my pleasure.

But she wasn’t done. After cleaning me up, she caressed and stroked my cock and got it hard again. She got another condom and covered me, then she lay on her back and spread her legs.

“Yes, baby, let’s go.”

She moaned as I slid inside her. She reached down to stimulate herself again as my body rocked back and forth on top of hers. The bed wobbled as she urged me to keep fucking her. I erupted once more.

We talked afterwards. She was quite sweet. She said she wanted to go back to school, probably in the medical field. She enjoyed making jewelry. Christmas was a little rough for her; she had barely enough money to afford presents for her young son. The conversation tempered my lust. When our time was up, I quickly got dressed and departed into the afternoon sunshine.

“The door is unlocked. Just let yourself in.”

I gingerly walked across the parking lot, trying to avoid slipping on the ice. I opened the door to the apartment. Stephanie was sitting by the roaring gas fireplace clad in a skimpy black robe. She invited me to set my coat aside and join her by the fire. It had been a while since we were last together. (Living two time zones apart will do that.)

“I’ve been such a dirty girl….” she teased.

It turns out that a few days earlier she had gotten dirty doing some off-season work in her garden. Our conversation then ranged from the TV show Lucifer to the distinctiveness of Orthodox theology to furnishings for her new house to her new therapist (who she described as a really cute girl). I found myself peeking inside her robe. We talked for almost an hour, so long that the ice in the glass of water she set out for me had melted. She rose from the floor and beckoned me to follow her. It was time.

I followed her to the dimly lit bedroom. Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” played on her music player. She moved in to affectionately kiss me. “I like your sweater,” she said as she helped me pull it off. I untied her robe, and she removed it. She was standing before me in a sexy pair of blue bra and panties. I admired her curvy but athletic figure. I reached behind her back and unclasped her bra; I pulled down the straps, and she let it tumble to the carpet. My hands caressed her shapely breasts. Her nipples were hard. My hands slid down her sides. “You have a nice touch,” she complemented me. They rested on her waist, then moved back to caress her ass. I felt her butt muscles clench. She guided me to the bed where we gently kissed and caressed. She pulled off her panties, flinging them onto the floor. Then she tugged down my boxer briefs. She lay on her back. I licked and sucked on her nipples before slowly kissing down her chest and stomach. I ran my nose across her strip of pubic hair. Positioning my head between her legs, I kissed her outer lips. My tongue darted inside her. She cooed as I tasted her, my tongue feeling her warmth.

“I just want to be on top,” she said with a sly smile. I lay on my back. She reached over to the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom. Tearing the package, she took it out and positioned it on her lips. She bent down and put the condom on me with her mouth. It took me longer than usual to get warmed up, but when I was ready, she lowered herself on me. She moved slowly at first, then started to energetically ride me. I grabbed on to her hips. She bounced up and down on top of me. I reached up and grabbed her breasts. I could hear the bed creak under the strain of our exertions.

She ended up lying back on the bed. I grabbed my cock and eased myself into her. I thrust slowly at first, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against mine. I quickened my pace. Her girlish moans echoed in my ears. We fucked for a good while. (Not to brag, but I’ve developed pretty good stamina.) I kissed her on her forehead. I started to go at it harder and harder. Stephanie possessed a magnetic attraction that literally drew me deeper into her. I hear myself grunting, groaning. I kissed her on the lips. I got close but I remained on the cusp of orgasm.

The came the sudden intuition that this here now is all there is. There was no past or future. The feel of her body beneath mine, the smell of her skin, the sounds of her moans — that’s all there was. At that moment, consumed by ecstasy, sex was everything.

“There is a lightning flash which passes through the blood of both individuals, there is a thunder of sensation which rolls in diminishing crashes down the nerves of each—and then the tension passes.”

D.H. Lawrence

I lingered inside her for a while. I could feel her tighten her muscles around my manhood. She smiled.

She pulled the condom off me and headed into the bathroom. She returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up. We reclined on the bed. She put her head on my chest. We talked some more, primarily about her work in real estate. She loves being an escort, she said, but she has other interests, too.

It was finally time to depart. As I dressed, I inconspicuously placed an envelope with my “donation” and a gift card on a nightstand. We moved out to the living room, where we embraced one last time. She kissed me again. We said good night. I exited out the door, where I faced the bitterly cold wind alone.

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.

I called “Katrina” to find out where she was staying and her room number. She told me she was running late. Then she made a request.

“Can you get me a bottle of Riesling? There’s a liquor store on the way over here.”

I’ve enjoyed wine with an escort on a number of occasions, but never has one asked me to pick up a bottle before an appointment. Then again, Katrina is a little different.

Last night was the third time I saw her. On our first “date,” she gave me a massage before she dozed off on top of my back. Last time, she asked me to drive her to a Walgreen’s so she could complete a financial transaction. (I complied. I think I’m too nice.) She’s kind of flighty and has a major sweet tooth; her motel room is littered with soda bottles and candy.

So why do I see her? She’s an attractive blonde in her late 30’s with a smokin’ hot body. Tight and firm with nice natural breasts. Not exactly GFE, but her skills more than make up for it.

I arrived at her room with the wine. She opened the bottle and poured us some wine into paper cups. “Do you have some time?” she asked. I had nowhere else to be. She spent a good deal of time talking while fiddling with the playlist on her iPhone. Business has been slow lately, she lamented. “They all want young girls.” (I reassured her that there are those of us who appreciate a real woman.) Her car needs to be fixed, but she knows a mechanic she thinks will repair it in exchange for sex. And so on.

Finally it was time to get physical. She give me a decent massage, then flipped me over. She got on top and slowly began to ride me. Her hips sensuously moved back and forth, allowing for an exquisite build-up. Eventually she quickened her pace. I grabbed her tits as she bounced up and down. I strained to hold out as long as I could, extending the pleasure, but she drained me.

Afterwards, she sat naked on the side of her bed playing music on her phone. I lingered on the bed for a while, until she said, “You can get dressed now.” I got the hint. I put my clothes back on and wished her goodnight. She remained naked on the bed, listening to the Beatles on her playlist.

“Ava” is a new girl at Joyce’s. She’s a brunette in her early 20’s whose goth look makes her resemble the girl on NCIS. She met me in the parlor in black lingerie and stockings that nicely contrasted with her pale skin. After some brief pleasantries, we adjourned to the bedroom. Betraying a little nervousness, she quickly went to work, sliding a condom on me and beginning a blowjob. (She noted that the condom was banana flavored.) Then she climbed on top and started riding me reverse cowgirl for a few minutes. As she rolled over on the bed, the rubber slipped off, but she absentmindedly moved to slide me inside of her.

“Aren’t we going to use a condom?” I interjected.

“Oh. Yeah.”

She didn’t have another condom in the room, so she slipped on her lingerie and went out to retrieve one. I waited. And waited. And waited. I wondered if she had to go to the store. Finally she returned to the bedroom with a new condom. I had gone limp waiting for her. She stroked my soft cock to reanimate it.

I couldn’t get hard again.

This hadn’t happened before. I’ve never had a problem getting it up. But now I was completely flaccid. Ava continued to stroke me, but no response. I strained to produce an erection, but I couldn’t will it into being. She grew distressed. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t like me,” she said sadly. I reassured her it wasn’t her. I finally gave up. As we got dressed, she continued to apologize. I felt bad for her. As she walked me out, she gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek. I left feeling embarrassed. It was, as Stendhal put it, a fiasco.