Leggy Lola

Two days had passed and he had not called Lola. I called him.

‘Hi, Stephen,' I said, ‘there's something I need to talk to you about.'

‘I thought that I was the one who had a problem.'

‘You have, but I've got one too. Can we meet?

‘Tomorrow evening?'

‘Yes.'

He didn't phone Lola the next day either.

I met him in a restaurant and I came straight to the point.

‘Have you contacted your escort yet?'

‘Not yet.'

‘Are you going to?'

‘Yes. My wife is taking the children to her parents' place the weekend after next. I will call her in a day or two and make an appointment for the Saturday when they will be away.'

‘At least you are being discreet, I said.

I was buying time; if he had that long to think about it, he was more likely to change his mind or he might get silly and ask if he could have me as Helen and for free. That would be too insulting. And Lola and the money were what I needed to make it work for me. It was an impossibly complicated situation and it needed Lola and money to make it manageably complicated. And it would be a test of him to see if he could handle it.

‘Anyway, what about your problem?' he asked.

I invented something about my mother being ill and should I make her go to the doctor.

I didn't tell him, but I decided that when I did, I was just going to give him a speech and say take it or leave it. I rehearsed the speech: that's the deal. It has to be that way, so that I can do it and so that you can do it and so that it doesn't get messy, and so that I won't feel bad about cheating on your wife with you, and so that you can have your erotic fantasy with Lola, and you and Helen can stay friends.

Somehow, deep down, I must have known that he would go for it; otherwise I wouldn't have dared to tell him. If I had miscalculated, I would lose his friendship and I wouldn't get to fuck him either. Maybe I was so lost in it all that I didn't know what I was thinking anymore.

Two days later Lola got the call. I disguised my voice and he was fooled. We agreed an appointment on the Saturday he wanted at two in the afternoon. I decided that I was not going to make any more appointments for that day and that I was going to tell him the truth on the Thursday. I felt like the Friday would be too late. If I made it two days, it would give him enough time to absorb it and prepare himself for he was going to have to handle it. Thursday was six days away.

I called him on the Monday and arranged to meet him on the Thursday evening.

Thursday came and I put it all out of my mind all day long. I made myself busy with work. Then it was time to go to the bar where I was meeting him. I chose a bar, and a popular one, which I knew would be crowded. It's easier to walk out of a crowded bar than a half full restaurant, after you've made a big speech, with you dignity intact.

We met and sat at a table and chatted and I felt amazingly relaxed. I even forgot about it for a while. I suppose it was because I had already decided. Ten arrived and I did not want to wait until the middle aged office boys remembered that they have homes and wives to go to and the bar began to empty.

I looked at Stephen and said

‘I have something to say and I want you to listen and not say anything. When I'm done, I ‘m going to leave and you will understand why when you have heard what I am going to say, and you will decide whether or not you are going to come.'

He looked confused and worried.

‘Come where?' he asked.

‘Listen and you will understand. You are going to visit your escort on Saturday I think.'

He looked even more worried, but he looked puzzled too. He had not told me that he had made the appointment.

‘How did you..?'

I cut him off.

‘Only two other people know this and only because I need them to know. But now I have to tell you too. The name of the escort that you are going to see on Saturday is Lola.'

He looked bemused and terrified.

‘Lola is me. I am Lola. If you keep the appointment it will be me who you are meeting, or rather me as Lola, and Lola is both me and not me. Come or don't come. I'll know what you decided to do when I hear or don't hear Lola's doorbell rings at two on Saturday. And remember, if you come, it's Lola who you get. That's how it has to be.'

And I left. I did not even look at him. I couldn't. Not right then as Helen, but I felt sure that he would come.

The next day he didn't call. By the time I went to bed that night, I was convinced that he would come and I was certain that he would come and do it right.

On Saturday, I was at the house at twelve. I had no other appointments, but I wanted time to prepare, and preparing that day was going to be different and more difficult than usual, and I was starting to feel nervous. I had a few glasses of wine as I sat waiting. I usually restrict myself to one.

I stopped after I finished the third, and it was half past one. Then it was a quarter to two, and then ten to, and then five to, and I was still nervous. I told myself

‘I am an actress, this is theatre, I am Lola.'

I had five minutes left to make myself believe it. And then I had to make him believe it.

At two exactly the bell rang. I had been right. He had come. I was dressed as usual, or perhaps even more sexily than usual. I had made Lola look more wanton and sluttish than I think I ever had before. She was wearing a dark red silk blouse undone to her cleavage, and a short, black skirt with a slit up the front. Her right leg was covered by a sheer red stocking and she wore a patent leather black stiletto heeled shoe on her right foot. Over her stump she had a matching, specially made red stocking. Her bra and panties matched the red of her stockings.

I went to the door using my crutch, took a deep breath and opened it.

‘Hi, and welcome. I'm Lola,' I said.

There was an imploring look in his eye, as if he wanted to abandon the pretence, but I held my gaze steady and he said

‘Hi.'

He came in and I showed him to the living room. I sat him down on the chair and got the bottle of wine I had been drinking earlier. I sat down and I was still terribly nervous, but I was determined not to let it show. I was not going to hurry things up, but I felt that the sooner we got onto the sex, the better it would be. It would help us both to forget. If he had been secretly craving all his life to indulge his fetish, then it should not be too long before he was lost in the experience of exploring it. And I was sure that as long as I was properly relaxed, this was one client I was going to enjoy. This one was going to be a real fuck.

I directed things through the usual stages. We handled the money first, then some wine and conversation. I went through the usual questions. I asked him his name and what he did. He told me the truth. I had thought that he might make it up, but he didn't. I took that as a sign of his comfort and that helped me to relax and Helen stopped trying to burst out of Lola and began to retreat and dissolve away, leaving Lola to take control completely. He seem to be relaxing and I was not getting the feeling that I needed to re-assure him that it was fine to have desires for a one legged woman, and that Lola didn't mind.

I decided to be bold though, and maybe it was the last test of him, and my way of shoring myself up completely. I asked him about his desire for an amputee. Where he had been so embarrassed and sheepish about it when he had told me about it before, now he was confident and forthright and he told me of experiences of getting highly aroused at seeing one legged women on trains and buses and in cafes and restaurants. He told me that he had looked for pornography dealing with the subject and that he had found that a good outlet and an escape for a while, but in the end he found he actually had to have the experience with a real woman.

‘You seem very comfortable with your desires,' I said to him.

He said, ‘I am now, but for a long time I felt guilty about it. I mean, being erotically excited by a woman's disabled condition.'

‘Whether or not a man finds it desirable, I will always be without my left leg,' I said.

‘So you don't mind being desired for that reason?' he asked.

‘I don't think that is the only reason that I am desired by those who desire me. It might be the focus of their desire, or what sparks their desire for me, but I don't mind why I'm desired. Desire is something I don't try to understand. It's something I have learned to feel as intensely as I can and to follow where it takes me. I think you have too. That's why you are here.'

He didn't answer. I had him; he was completely absorbed in the moment.

‘And what would you like to do with me today?' I asked.

Then I told him the things I offered.

‘You can kiss me, you can play with my pussy, and you can lick her. I can play with your cock and suck him for you, and you can fuck me, in any position you want to. You can fuck my bum too; and I can tie you, and we can pee over each over if you like that. And of course my stump is yours to play with.

I didn't throw in my line about what I desire at that point, as I usually do with a first time client. Stephen was a first time, but it didn't feel like it. I had seen that a bulge had grown in his lap as he had talked about his feelings, so I knew he was ready.

‘Would you like to see my pussy?' I asked him.

‘Yes,' he said, and he said it confidently.

I made sure I was sitting in exactly the right position for him to see everything perfectly, and I slid my skirt up over my thighs and took the gusset of my panties gently with the fingers of my right hand. My pussy was completely revealed and I looked over at him and I could see that he was already close to heaven. Then I rested my fore and third fingers on my lips and slowly opened them. I was already sopping wet and I couldn't have said whether it was Lola or Helen who was so aroused.

I slowly inserted my middle finger into my pussy, as far as it would go, and began to circle softly around its inner walls. I said to him

‘Take out your cock and let me look at it.'

I really did have an urgent desire to see it. I wondered if it would be big or small, thick or slim; would he be circumcised, or not. Would the head be large and round like a plum, the way I like it to be? Would his balls be hanging or would they be tight like a little tangerine? Would it point straight upwards and curve inwards towards his stomach, or would it have a bend to left or right. I hoped it would be big and straight and with a lovely big head for me to take between my lips.

He undid his fly and lifted himself a little off of the chair, so that he could pull his trousers off underneath him. He pulled them right down over his knees and let them slip down to his ankles. He was about to take off his boxer shorts in the same way, but I told him not to.

‘No, Darling,' I said, ‘undo the button and pull your cock out of the hole at the front.'

I love to see a man's cock poking out in that way from his shorts. It looks so fabulously rude like that.

I felt myself getting wetter as he undid the button on his shorts and dipped his fingers into the opening and fished for his cock. When he pulled it out, I involuntarily quicken the movements of my finger inside my pussy. He sat and watched me with my finger in my pussy and his cock stood and pointed upwards. I could see it making little twitches that animated it and showed that it was alive, and had a life of its own and it wanted me.

But I was getting too carried away too quickly. I didn't want him to see how lost I was getting and get the upper hand, and I wanted Lola to keep Helen at bay. That's how I had decided it was going to be. I was working and while there is nothing wrong with taking pleasure in one's work, there has to be a line that doesn't get crossed; at least not yet. So I stopped fingering myself; and pulling my middle finger from my pussy; I let it rest of the ridge of my inner labia. I brought my left hand to my pussy, allowing my fingertips to brush over my stump, and placed the fingertips on the inner lip on the other side. I wanted him to see inside me. I wanted to see his cock get even harder and I wanted it to see it throb and not just twitch, and then a little later, I wanted to take to between my lips and suck all of it into my mouth.

I sat motionless, just holding my pussy open for him and he sat motionless and stared at me. Then I looked at him, straight into his eyes and I slipped my tongue out a little and softly ran its tip over my lips. Then, with a gentle movement of my head, I beckoned him to come to me.

He stood and walked around the table to me. I sat up to meet him, and as he was about to sit down, I gestured to him not to sit. He understood and stood in front of me and his cock poked proudly at my face. I reached for it and took it in my hand and began to stroke it, slowly pulling his foreskin over the head and slowly rolling it back down again. His cock was big, but not enormous. I must have been seven inches. It had the large round head that I had hoped for, and I was dying to close my mouth around it and fix my lips around the rim where the head meets the shaft, and lick all around it and prod at the pee hole with the tip of my tongue; and all the while hold his balls in my hands, carefully with the tips of my fingers, like they were some precious and fragile object, which is of course exactly what they are.

I looked at his cock until I could no longer resist and I leaned forward and took the head in my mouth. It tasted clean and fresh and a little salty, with the drop of clear pre-cum that had softy oozed from the hole.

I held it in my mouth like that for a while and just licked around the head. Then I sank my mouth down over it and took in as much of it as I could. I began to work my lips up and down on it; slowly at first and then more rapidly, until his whole cock head and half of his thick shaft was covered with a thin film of my warm saliva. I heard him sigh and softly gasp, but I knew that he would not come too soon, so I continued to suck his cock.

It was he that pulled away after a few minutes. He looked down at me and I looked up at him and then at his cock, and it shone and gleamed in the light with my spit all over it.

‘I want to undress you now, Lola,' he said.

A thrill rippled through my body as he called me Lola. I had done it. He had done it. This had worked. We would be Helen and Stephen again later, but we would worry about that then.

He leaned towards me and undid the rest of the buttons of my blouse. I leaned forward to meet him and he pulled it over my shoulders and I stretched out my arms behind me, so that he could pull the sleeves of my blouse down over them. He stopped for a moment to look at my bra encased tits and I felt my nipples pressing hard against the sheer red material. Then he reached around me and took hold of my bra strap and unclipped it. He pulled my bra off of my tits and down my arms. I felt my tits tumble forward as he lifted my bra from them, and my large nipples stood out proudly.

I lay back and invited him between my legs.

‘Touch me,' I said, ‘touch Lola's pussy.'

He leaned toward me and I felt his warmth breath on my pussy. He stroked it first and then slowly worked a finger in, and then a second. I'm tight down there and two is as much as I can take. He held his fingers straight and began to finger fuck me. I gave myself to the pleasure. I was not going to try to stop myself from coming now. And come I did and he just kept on sliding his firm straight fingers in and out of me.

Then he stopped and withdrew his fingers and he smeared my pussy juice over his cock. He was ready to fuck me and he took his cock in his hand and positioned himself to enter me.

I stopped him, though.

‘Not yet,' I said, ‘don't fuck me yet. Rub your cock over my stump. Rub it all over it.'

He moved a little to the left and leaned towards me. I felt his cock head touch my stump and I felt its soft hardness through the sheer nylon of my little stocking. This is what my clients come for. They come to fuck me and touch and eat my pussy and for me to wank them and suck their cocks, but most of all they come to look at the stump of my left leg and to touch and caress it, and lick it and rub their cocks over and shoot their spunk over it. That is their fetish and their secret desire, and Lola makes it happen for them. With him, though, she wanted to do it for herself too.

Their stump worship does not usually excite me sexually, but if I like the client I'm with, it can be sensual, and I enjoy the pleasure they take in it. With him, though, I was excited and I wanted it, and I prompted him to it, because had had not even touched it yet, but he had been looking at it all along, mesmerized by it.

Through the thin sheer material of my stocking, he could see and feel its every bump and unevenness and contour. He rubbed his cock slowly over it all, until he found the ridge of my scar and he began to run the tip of his cock along it. I was enjoying this sexually for the first time, and I could not help reaching to my pussy and touching it.

He stopped for a moment. I think he must have been closer to coming than he wanted to be. I continued to play with myself as he paused, until he moved my hand away and I felt the head of his cock against my pussy lips.

I made just one concession to him. I didn't make him wear a condom. I wanted his bare cock inside me.

He pushed it in, and didn't stop until he had given me it all. His thickness sweetly stretched me and I felt his loins against mine.

We started with me lying on my back, but soon I gestured to him to stop for a moment, so that I could turn onto my right side with my stump facing upwards. He placed one knee on either side of me and then he pushed himself forward again and fed his cock back into his pussy.

‘You've never been so deep into a woman's cunt before,' I told him, ‘and only a woman like Lola can take a man's cock this deep.'

His cock was all the way inside me again and his loins were pressed against my stump. He remained still for what seemed a long time, as though his cock was drinking in the juices from my pussy. Then he began to move. His strokes were slow and deep. He pulled out so far that only the head of his cock was held in the shallows, and then he pushed in again deeply until his cock was reaching the depths of my cunt and his loins were pressed against my stump again. And so it went on, until in his excitement he began to move faster and faster.

Often I watch my clients while they are fucking me. To them it is as though I am gazing intently at them and absorbed in what they are doing to me. Looking into their eyes gives them the illusion that it is personal and that they have touched me in some way, and they are not merely pushing a part of their body, their cock, into a part of mine, my cunt. In fact I am studying them. It interests me. I look at them to watch their expression and compare one with another. I enjoy their looks and sounds of pleasure, and I enjoy the feeling of power I feel, knowing that it is my body that is giving them pleasure.

But eyes can lie; mine and maybe theirs lie too. It is impossible to know, but it is sometimes possible to feel truth, but through the intoxications of romance or desire we don't see clearly and we cannot feel clearly, or purely. It means that eroticism is ambiguous and that is its fascination and the mystery that we cannot solve that keeps us returning.

I watched Stephen, but as his cock slid in and out of me, the mist of desire and romance begun to enfold me and could not watch him anymore in that detached way. I began to get lost in the pleasure and the moment, but I controlled myself enough to say ‘fuck me' over and over again, and not ‘fuck me Stephen.' And when I said ‘fuck me,' I was not saying it only to excite him more, or to make myself sound to him like a wanton whore.