chapter 1: dream come true, or ... nightmare?
by donQuixote04
It was a beautiful Spring day last year -- just about exactly a year ago. I was a couple of weeks past my 50th birthday, and in Manhattan on business. I figured it was time to buy myself a gift. But what? I've been married for a long time -- nearly three decades. My wife is a good mother and a good housekeeper, but has also gained nearly two pounds for each year we've been married, and no longer has any interest in making love. I may have been 50, but my carnal interests were still falling somewhere between twice a week and once a day. Not to mention the craving for variety. So what to buy myself for my birthday? Isn't it
obvious? I decided to visit my favorite incall place.
I've been hobbying for a while. At first it was for variety's sake. In the last few years, it was to find an outlet for my sexuality. Trying to make love to my wife is so much of an effort and apparent imposition that I frankly have a tough time sustaining an erection with her. Over the
years I've learned that the single most important factor for my arousal is how aroused my partner is. I think it's partly an ego thing, along the lines of: "I must be good if I can make her become excited." This means, of course, that my wife's indifference is a complete and total turn-off.
Continuing attempts seem destined to lead to increasing impotence. Is this the root cause of many cases of impotence among middle-aged men? I have no idea, but it sure seems to be an issue in my case. And masturbating all the time is just not emotionally satisfying.
Of course, this is an issue for my sessions with providers, also. If they are too mechanical, or too obviously faking it, or too aware of the time, or appear to be even a little bit indifferent, then it's just not going to work for me. That's why I ask my companions to help me act out a fantasy, so long as they're comfortable with it. Nothing too wierd. Just something designed to make their apparent arousal obvious to my dumb little head. If a provider is a good actress, I'm turned on, and the session is likely to be a spectacular success.
After my morning business meeting, I arrived at the incall place a little before noon. Things were very quiet. There was no evidence of any other clients; I may have been the first of the day. Five or six providers were lounging around and I got my pick. I didn't recognize one of them, and she was pretty and smiling and so obviously much closer to my type than any of the others. "What's your name?" I asked the thin pretty blonde with large breasts.
"Amy. What's yours?"
"I'm Don," I replied, sitting on the sofa next to her. She immediately put her hand on my leg, just above my knee, and leaned toward me, smiling. The top of her dress opened up a bit as she leaned forward, giving me a pretty good view of her cleavage. I was already getting hard.
"Can I get you something to drink, Don?"
"Thanks. Just a glass of water, please."
She stood up and went to the kitchen to get the water. While she was away the madame came over to the sofa and began to babble something about "apology," "appointment," and "thought I was someone else." Though she was clumsy about explaining it, I soon figured out that Amy had a 12:30pm appointment and that at first the madame had incorrectly assumed that I was that guy. "Can you come back later?" she asked.
Normally, I wouldn't have considered this suggestion. But Amy was so pretty, and exactly the sort of woman that turns me on. I looked at my watch, tried to remember my calendar for the rest of the day and tomorrow, did some mental calculations, and figured she would be free by 1:30pm. Amy was returning with my glass of ice water just as I replied "Sure, I'll get lunch. How about a two o'clock slot?"
"Two o'clock will be fine. See you then."
"Oh, you're not my 12:30?" Amy asked as she handed me the glass.
"I'm afraid not, Amy, but you're obviously worth waiting for, so I'll be back later." I sipped some water, and put the glass down on the counter, picked up my briefcase, gave Amy a goodbye kiss on her cheek, and walked out smiling.
I stopped in a luncheonette for a sandwich, and then browsed in a Barnes & Noble for a while, killing time until I judged it was okay to go back. While I was there, I picked out a blank greeting card made to look like an old-fashioned book cover. The book's cover illustration featured the picture of a young woman from the 1920s, dressed as a "flapper." The title of the book was "Stories of a Remarkable Young Woman."
I bought the card for Amy, and when I was outside, I found a place to sit in the warm breeze and wrote a brief inscription inside the card: "Dear Amy, To someone who seems to be very remarkable, indeed. I'm really looking forward to meeting you. With my best regards, Don." I wrote "Amy" on the envelope, and before sealing it, put enough cash inside to cover the house fee as well as a generous tip. It's been my custom in the last few years to pay more than expected. I do this partly as a way to show respect for the providers that I meet, and -- I admit -- partly to help communicate to these providers that I hope and expect to receive a high level of service.
I was a little warm when I got back up to the house. Amy was sitting on the sofa waiting for me, wearing a different dress than the one she had on before. This one also featured a low neckline. Clearly, she's interested in showing off her best assets.
"Hi, sweetie," she greeted me.
"Hi, Amy. You look terrific! How are you doing?"
"Fine. The room is all ready for us. Would you like anything to drink before we go on in?"
"Maybe another glass of ice water, thank you."
Amy poured the water, and took my hand and led me into the bedroom. "Would you like to use the bathroom?" she asked.
"Actually, I would, and I think I'll take a quick shower, too, if that's all right with you?"
I put the envelope with the card and fee on the night table and closed the bathroom door behind me. I turned the shower on, stripped, and stood in front of the toilet to take a leak. The trouble was that Amy was beautiful I was already a bit hard in anticipation. This made it impossible to piss without spraying the wall at least seven feet high. It took a minute or so for me to soften enough to empty myself, and even then I had to lean forward against the wall, propping myself up at a very difficult angle. Then the quick shower,
a quick dry, back into my pants and t-shirt, and back to Amy.
She was sitting on the bed, smiling at me as I walked back into the bedroom. "Don, that was such a nice card. Thank you so much."
"Your welcome, Amy. It's my pleasure."
"So, what do you like to do," she asked?
"Uhhh, how do you feel about a little game of make-believe?"
"Well, sure. I mean, maybe. It depends. What do you have in mind?"
"Nothing kinky or anything. Just a little innocent game of pretend. Let's make believe we're in high school, and we've just come back from a date. It was our first date, and your first date since breaking up with your ex-boyfriend. We've been to a movie, and now we're back at your house, and no one else is at home. We decide to watch some TV and start to neck. You're cool with that, but you had decided ahead of time that you don't want to do much more than just kiss on a first date. So, when I get a little 'frisky' with my hands, you push me away, gently, but don't make a big thing about it or anything. The thing is, though, that I'm a bit persistent, and I try the hand thing again, while we're kissing. And the other thing is, you think I'm kind of cute, and it's been a long time since you've been out with anyone, and you've begun to get a little hot, in spite of yourself. So you take a little longer before you push my hands away the second time. This goes on a few more times, and each time you are getting more and more aroused and taking longer and longer before pushing my hands away. After a while, you are moaning and squirming a bit, and finally not stopping me at all. Next, I start sliding my hands up your skirt, and the same thing happens, until, after a few attempts, I've got my fingers inside your panties, and you're just about out of control. After a little more time, I'm not moving fast enough for you, and you take over the lead. Well, that's it. What do you think?"
"Wow. That actually sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it. Where do we start?"
Amy played out the fantasy perfectly. She seemed to cum with my hands between her legs (more than once), and again later with my head between her legs (more than once), and again with her legs around my hips (more than once) until I finally came myself. Have you heard the term for storms that are so powerful they are rare? If they are rare enough that they are unlikely to happen more than once every 100 years they are called "hundred-year" storms? Well, this was at least a "decade" session -- the sort that can change the way a person thinks about the hobby and every provider that person has ever seen. I couldn't remember ever making love like that with anyone else, ever. The thing was, it seemed to me that we had real chemistry going between us. Amy seemed to came with me after just a couple of minutes of stroking or licking her clitoris. In a ten minute period, Amy might have come three or four times. I lost track of the total count during our hour together, figuring at first, that it was part of the fantasy and that Amy was a very talented actress. Every time her body stiffened and shook, I'd get that much more aroused. I couldn't remember being so hard in my life. I might as well have been 19 again.