The Best Erotic Stories.

Paternal Cravings
by J

Inspired by Jordan

I am not a hooker. I want to make that clear from the start. I do not stand on lonely street corners offering twenty dollar blow jobs to passing motorists. Neither do I hang around the lobbies of seedy hotels competing with other semi-naked girls.

What I am, is a high class gentleman's escort. I take as much or as little work as I want from a reputable agency. The clients pay the agency and then the agency pays me. The clients are charged five hundred dollars for my company in the evening, of which I get half. Most of the clients are well heeled businessmen, usually from out of town but occasionally local. They use the agency for two main reasons: either they prefer to have dinner with a beautiful and intelligent companion rather than eat alone, or they want to impress their colleagues by having a young and desirable escort on their arm.

Most of the clients I have had are in their fifties and upwards. The agency does not promote sexual relations, but, of course, the subject usually crops up sometime during the evening with most of my clients. Any money or gifts that are offered in return for sex are between the escort and the client. I have never turned down such a request so far, as I can usually make another five hundred dollars. However, I always insist that the client wear a condom; you never know, even some of the old guys might be carrying something.

I fell into this business by accident, the details of which are not important. Once into it, not only did I find the men interesting, but it also helped me repay a loan I had reluctantly taken from my father. You see, I come from a wealthy family and do not really need to work my way through college at all. But, at the insistence of my mother, I agreed to let father loan me ten thousand dollars on the understanding that I would pay him back. Father can easily afford it. He has his fingers in many pies, both mercantile and political. I have never enquired about it and he, being a cold and distant man as far as mother and I are concerned, never brings his work home with him. I have always thought that the less I know about his dealings and acquaintances the better I will be. I do not love my father, and it has always been clear that the feeling is mutual.

What I am about to relate happened just a few weeks ago. I have used the name that I am known by at the agency, for reasons that will become clear later on.

It began on the day before my twentieth birthday. I was driving back home to spend the evening with mother and feeling very pleased with myself. Before I had left, I had stopped off at the bank and withdrawn the ten thousand dollars with which to repay father. I could have paid him off a long time ago, but my parents would have been suspicious about how a teenager could have made so much money so quickly whilst still at school. This way, I could tell them that I had saved hard from tips and wages from some kind of job waiting tables.

Before I left the bank, I took great joy in counting the ten bills that would get father off my back forever. I numbered each one with a small one to ten in red ink on the top right corner. I wanted to be sure that the bank had not short changed me. Then I placed them in my purse and set off on the forty mile drive to my home town.

I was surprised when father joined the two of us for dinner. We had as pleasant an evening as was possible in his company, and at around ten, just before leaving to go back to my campus, I proudly handed father the ten one thousand dollar bills. Typically without emotion, he took his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket and placed the money inside without even counting them. I should not have expected anything else; it was an amount of money that wouldn't keep him for more than a couple of weeks. Still, I was beholding to no one now, and the drive back saw me in a calm and serene mood.

The next morning I was awoken by the sound of the telephone ringing in my apartment. It was the morning of my twentieth birthday and I felt wonderful. I recognised the voice on the other end of the line, it was the boss of the escort agency, Carmel.

'Hi Jordan, happy birthday', she began. Carmel was just the sweetest person. 'I'm sorry to wake you so early on your big day, but I've got an offer to put to you.

I've just had a call from a guy we call Mr. Strange. For the past six years, on this very day, he has called me with a request for a girl for the evening. He always asks for a blond with blue eyes, well except for last year that is, when he asked for a brunette with blue eyes. Anyway, he's just spoken to me again, and he wants a girl for tonight.'

I interrupted Carmel and reminded her that I had made plans to go out with friends this evening.

'I know you have sugar', she continued, 'but I wanted to give you first refusal. You see, not only do you fit the bill, looks wise, but this Mr. Strange also pays very handsomely. It would be worth two thousand dollars to you.'

I told Carmel to go on, she had my full attention.

'Well, it's not the normal kind of date, as you've probably guessed. I usually don't do this kind of thing, as you know, but with Mr. Strange all he wants from a girl is pure sex. Are you interested?'

I thought about it for a minute and then told Carmel to carry on.

'Well, the way it works is this. He has instructed whoever I send, to go to room 710 at the Holiday Inn tonight at ten thirty. He always picks this room, I guess he likes the view. Anyway, the girl will be greeted by one of his gophers, who will lead her into the bathroom and instruct her to undress and come out again wearing just a towel. Then, she will be blindfolded and told to lie on the bed. The muscle will then tie her hands to the bed with a pair of handcuffs. Only when all this has happened, will Mr. Strange come in. He tells the gopher to get out so that he and the girl are alone. Sex is straightforward, although a couple of times he's given it to the girl up the ass. But he always wears a condom. He never talks to the girl and never treats her rough. He's usually through in an hour. Before he leaves, he covers the girl with the towel. Then he knocks for his man to come back in. Mr. Strange has left the room by the time the girl adjusts her eyes to the light. The bodyguard tells her that the room is hers for the night, thanks her for her service and then leaves. It's that simple. Do you want in?'

I thought about it for a couple of seconds and then asked Carmel some further questions. It was obvious that Mr. Strange was an important and rich man who wanted to remain anonymous. The thought of such an easy two thousand dollars was enticing. After all, I had slept with plenty of other men for less. So what if Mr. Strange did live up to his name, the other girls had come out of it OK. My mind was made up and I told Carmel that I would do it. She repeated the instructions to me, and told me that the money was already in her office and that I could collect it whenever.

At ten fifteen I set off in my car for the hotel. I had dressed in a smart black business suit and black high heel pumps. I left my hair long and straight and wore some black eyeliner and red lipstick; nothing too extravagant. I entered the hotel lobby and went directly to the bank of elevators. I knew this place quite well through my escort work and was on nodding acquaintance with some of the reception staff. I got off at the seventh floor and walked just a few paces to room 710. I admit I was a little nervous as I knocked at the door. Although I may have slept around a bit, there has always been the pretence, at least, of a date first. This was pure prostitution.

The door was opened in a matter of seconds by a big white guy in a tight black suit. He smiled at me pleasantly and ushered me into the large suite of rooms. He led me through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He told me to wrap a towel around myself and come back into the bedroom when I was ready. I put my overnight bag on the stand and began to strip off.

In a couple of minutes I was ready. A final look in the mirror and I walked back into the bedroom where the big guy was waiting for me. I was about to take my stilettos off when he told me to leave them on. I could tell by the look on his face as he glanced at my body that he wanted me as well. I lay down flat on the bed as he instructed, and raised both arms immediately over my head. He got some police issue handcuffs from his jacket pocket and bound both of my wrists around the headboard.

Then he told me to lift my head. As he placed the blindfold around my eyes, I felt a little panic come over me. He was kind and told me not to worry. I would be alright.

When I was comfortable, I felt the big man move away from the bed and heard him walk to the door that connected to the living area. I heard him knock on it twice. Soon, the door opened and I heard a second set of footsteps in the bedroom. This must have been Mr. Strange. There were no words exchanged between the two men.

I felt someone approach the bed. Then a hand was on the back of my head, lifting it up off the pillow. The hand turned my head first to the left and then to the right. Then my head was placed gently back onto the pillow. I heard the footsteps walk away and then detected some whispering. Eventually, I was startled by a voice in my right ear. It was the big man.

'My boss likes the look of you very much. He has taken five thousand dollars out of his wallet and told me to put it here on the dresser if you will allow him to be with you longer than he normally spends with a girl'.

I nodded my consent. I couldn't believe the money Mr. strange was willing to spend on me. For that kind of bread, he could fuck me anywhere he wanted all night.

'Also', the big man went on,' as you're being paid this bonus, my boss doesn't expect to have to wear a condom'.

Like a dumb mute, I once again just nodded my approval. I heard the big man place the money on the dresser to my right, before following his footfalls out of the room. I was now alone with Mr. Strange.

I could almost feel the tension and excitement in the room as my purchaser for the night walked around the bed, no doubt evaluating his newly acquired commodity.

After a couple of minutes, I became aware of him undressing. It gave me time to ponder upon what kind of man he was; his age, his size, his colour. Believe it or not, but I had never been fucked by a man who wasn't wearing a condom. I wondered if a naked penis in me would feel any different. Time would tell. I guessed that I would have to take it in the mouth at some stage from Mr. Strange, but I had tasted semen before and so that didn't bother me.

My thoughts suddenly returned to the business in hand as I felt his hands slowly start to unfold the flap that held the towel securely around my body. As it parted, revealing my nakedness underneath, I heard the stranger's breathing increase. It's amazing how your remaining senses compensate for those that are lost; I would never have detected that had I been able to see. As I arched my back, he pulled the towel from under me and tossed it across the room. It must have been my helpless vulnerability, blindness, being bound and about to be used by a perfect stranger, that made me more excited than I had ever been before.

My own breathing went off the scale as I felt his hands gently touch my ankles. Slowly, the stranger's hands moved up my calves and along my long thighs. He stopped at my hips and proceeded to knead my hip bone with the palms of his hands.

I was already writhing under his touch and praying that his fingers would make a move towards my dripping pussy. But my master was going to make me wait a while longer before offering me that type of relief, because his hands then moved up to caress my belly. As he pressed down hard on my flat, taut tummy, I let out a groan. He teased me with a finger that just touched the tip of my cunny lips before moving away. Then his hands were around my slim waist and travelling up to my heaving breasts. I tried to guess his age by the feel of his skin. He was not a young man, his hands were too hard for him to be in his twenties or thirties. And I had been pawed and petted by enough senior citizens to know that he was younger than retirement age. So, I guessed that Mr. Strange must have fallen somewhere in the middle, say forty or fifty.

As I felt him cupping my melons, I began to thrash around even more wildly. Normally, I put on a show for the guy who has bought me, I figure I owe them the idea that I'm turned on. But with Mr. Strange my lust and desire was genuine. Whatever the reason, I wanted him to fuck me every which way.

He continued to maul at my tits and tweak my protruding nipples. Then I felt the warmth of his breath close to my skin and my body shuddered in delight as his mouth licked and sucked and chewed at my breasts. I remember begging for him to fuck me. But I knew that the sonofabitch was going to make me wait.

Suddenly, he was gone. I lay flat on the bed, panting. Then, I felt his weight on the edge of the bed to my right. He quickly manoeuvred himself so that his body straddled my chest. I knew what was coming. Sure enough, I felt his hands take hold of the sides of my head like it was a basketball and raise it as far as it would go. I sensed his torso move towards my face and soon I felt a moistness on my left cheek. He could not hold my head and guide his penis into my mouth at the same time, and so it wandered over my face leaving a trail of precum behind it. In an effort to assist, I parted my shiny red lips as far as I could and let my head go limp so that he could move it around with greater ease.

At last, he managed to get the tip of his cock to the edge of my lips and then he just turned my head quickly a little to one side and it was in. It was nothing special size wise and I found that I could accommodate it easily. As I rolled my tongue around his helmet and tried to get it down the slit at the top, I heard the stranger groan for the first time. This must have really got him going because soon he was holding onto my head like a vice and thrusting his dick in and out of my mouth. I gagged at first, of course, but he slowed down until I got used to it and then he started to speed up again. I breathed through my nose as I gorged on his weapon. At each inward thrust it would touch my tonsils and I could feel the hairs of his portly belly rubbing against my face. I imagined him looking down at his bound and blindfolded prisoner, as his glistening tool moved between her swollen crimson lips. The shaft would have been moist with a mixture of his own lubrication and the girl's saliva. Soon, the stranger's groans changed their pitch. And with their deepening, I knew that he was close to emptying his balls into my mouth. When he realised that he was only one thrust away, the stranger stopped his movements, thrust his manhood as far down my throat as it would go and with a lingering groan, he released his juices into me. I swallowed the warm, salty goo involuntarily as it began to fill my mouth. I felt the full weight of his body as he collapsed over me, forcing my head against the pillows.

Mr Strange lay on top of my face for a couple of minutes before he let his softening penis slide out from between my lips. As it did, a sticky stream of residue clung to my teeth and I had to run my tongue around the inside of my mouth to remove it. I heard him striving to catch his breath as he stood up, and I took the opportunity to take a gulp of air myself now that my mouth was empty again. In my mind's eye I could picture this rotund, middle aged man standing in the middle of the room, bending forward from the waist, hands on knees trying to recover.

Five minutes of silence must have passed before I felt him sit on the end of the bed. He began to fondle the high heels of my pumps and I raised a leg to let my stiletto brush along his chest. He gently kissed the inside of my left ankle and then I felt his hot, warm lips move up my leg towards my inviting honey pot. He was slow and teasing in his approach and I seemed to wait an excruciating amount of time before he parted my legs, bent them right back over my head, and lowered his face to my pussy.

At the first hint of his breath close to my vagina, I began to moan gently. This rose to a scream at the touch of his mouth on my labia. His tongue and lips poked and brushed all around my soaking wet hole. I begged the stranger to go deeper into my womb or lick my clitoris. He could see that my desire was real as I pulled at the handcuffs in a vain effort to press his head harder against my crack. Finally, he gave into my pathetic pleading, and his tongue got down to work on my love button. I squirmed underneath him and pulled at the sheets with my teeth as he flicked away and licked up my juices. Then, after about two or three minutes, well who can say exactly at a time like that, when I couldn't tell the difference between pleasure and pain, with the stranger still lapping at me like a cat with a saucer of milk, I felt my whole body start to judder and shake as a wave of intense stimulation shot through me.

I had hardly recovered from that first orgasm, when, still with my legs bent behind my head, I felt the stranger insert his hardness into me. As he thrust his cock hard in, right up to its base, I struggled to take a breath. The stranger began to give me slow, deep stabs with his penis. His position above me allowed him to change the angle of attack so that I never knew from one thrust to the next which direction his prick would come from. At various times, he had it either scraping along the left side of my vagina, then the right, or maybe from the top and thus brushing passed my clit. In between my own cries of ecstasy I could hear Mr. Strange grunting as he pummelled and poked at my upturned love box with ever increasing speed. I huskily pleaded with him to fuck me harder and deeper. The stranger brought my legs down and wrapped them around his waist. I felt his body tense up and go straight as an arrow as he placed his hands on either side of me and began to slam his tool in and out, mercilessly. He was grunting loudly like an animal as I started to scream myself to another climax and let my stilettos scratch down the back of his legs. As he ground his hips against mine with such a force that I thought his dick would burst through my womb, I suddenly felt his hot, eager mouth on mine. Our tongues and saliva mixed as we both thrashed around. I felt my lip gloss being smeared against the stranger's pressing mouth. With the slapping of our bodies, I realised that a bare prick does feel better than one covered with a piece of rubber. Or maybe it was just the excitement of the situation. The sloppy wetness of the stranger's poker in my wet bush was mirrored by his tongue diving and probing in my mouth. We groaned and grunted in unison and as we reached a peak, I felt him once again emptying his semen into me. I begged him to give me just another couple of thrusts so that I could join him in orgasm. As the waves of pleasure coursed through my body in another orgasmic thrill, I remember wondering whether the bed would hold up.

But the bed was solid, and soon the full weight of the stranger was once again pressed on me as he rested and attempted to recover. We lay like this for about ten minutes before the stranger stood up next to the bed. I heard him walk to the far side of the bedroom and pick up a piece of his clothing. I wondered if it was all over. But then I heard him throw the garment back onto the floor and he came back to where he had been standing. I then felt his hands on my waist as he tried to turn me over onto my front. The handcuffs twisted easily and did not hurt my wrists as he popped me down on my belly. It seemed as though I was going to get it in every orifice tonight. I marvelled at his staying power and wondered what he had seen in me that had given him such potency. Maybe this is his one fuck of the year and he's been saving it all up.

My thoughts returned to the present when I felt the cold liquid hit the small of my back. Its unexpected arrival made me shiver. I soon realised that it was some kind of body oil. The stranger poured copious amounts of it all over my body, in fact I think he must have used up the whole bottle. He began to massage it into me. He rubbed it onto my shoulders, my back, waist, hips and then he got to my butt. I felt him squeeze my cheeks as the oil oozed over my skin. Then, slowly, his fingers traced a path down the crack of my ass towards my hole. I've never really cared for rear entry, but as it seems to have been the favourite method for most of my older clients, I've never objected.

Mr Strange had poured a lot of oil around my ass hole and now he was using the tip of his forefinger to lubricate around and up it. I took the hint and crouched on my knees with my ass cheeks invitingly high in the air. I felt the stranger take up his position behind me and place his left hand on my left butt cheek. He spread the skin apart to expose my hole and then I felt the tip of his penis forcing its way into the tight space.

I grimaced as his meat went right up my ass hole and I hoped this would be over quickly. There was a lot of squelching as he slammed it in and out of my oiled up body with as much enthusiasm, if not more, as he had shown all night. It was only when I felt his hands start to move over my back and around to my hanging orbs that I began to feel any enjoyment. As he squeezed my tits hard I began to moan with delight. Mr. Strange's groans were more guttural now than they had been previously, and in almost hushed whispers I could here him calling me all kinds of not very nice names and suggesting that I was getting what I deserved. In fact, it was precisely the thought of this kind of abuse at the hands of a weird stranger that got me excited again. I heard myself begging him to fuck me deeper, telling him that I was his slut.

The stranger responded as I had hoped, and I felt his hands start to grip my boobs tightly and sadistically. He was thumping into me faster and faster and groaning loudly as I bucked underneath him. At last, I felt him withdraw his cock from my ass and with one hand squeezing my left ass cheek, he let his juice come out and spray my back.

By the time I had regained my breath, Mr. Strange had covered my nakedness with the towel and was getting dressed. I couldn't just leave it like that, I had to say something; it had been the best fucking of my life.

'Mister,' I began softly, 'don't leave it for another year before you come back. Ask for me by name, it's Jordan. And don't worry about the money. You can have me at normal rates'.

There was no reply. But then I hadn't really expected any. There was a soft knock at the door. I heard the door being opened, some whispering between Mr. Strange and the heavy and then it went quiet.

I must have dozed for a while, because the next thing I remember was being woken by the gopher who was untying the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists to get the circulation flowing whilst he took off my blindfold. By the time my eyes had adjusted to the light, he was just about to leave. He smiled down at me as I sat on the bed with the towel covering my modesty, thanked me on behalf of his boss and said that the room was mine until check out time tomorrow. Before I knew it I was all on my own.

I went straight to the bathroom to have a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. My lips were swollen and smeared with the red lipstick. My blond hair was now mousy coloured and lank with sweat. And when I turned around to look at my back, it was thick with oil and I had a long streak of the stranger's semen running down the channel of my spine. But I knew that after a hot shower I would be as good as new.

Half an hour later as I rubbed my hair dry and entered the bedroom, I suddenly remembered the five thousand dollars that I had been promised. To tell the truth, it wouldn't have been too bad if he had stiffed me, because he had been such a good lover. But, from the far side of the room, I could see some money on the dresser.

I walked over to count it anyway.

As I picked the bills up, something about their appearance bothered me. For a second or so I couldn't figure out what it was. Then it hit me like an earthquake. On the top right corner of the first one, in red ink, was the small figure of a '1'. Some coincidence surely, I thought. But on the second was a '2', the third a '3' and so on.

Then the horrible realisation struck me. These were the exact same bills that I had given to my father just the day before to clear my debt to him. I tried to find some reasonable explanation as to why they had come into the possession of Mr. Strange so soon. Maybe he was a business colleague who had been owed money by father. But then I remembered that mother had said that father would be staying home all day today and not going to the office. Then I began to think that the most hideous explanation was the only one that made sense; that Mr. Strange was my own father.

I tried to remember the things that Carmel had told me that morning on the phone. Mr. Strange has been using the agency to provide a girl for sex on the same day for the last six years. That day was my birthday. Had father been satisfying his own fantasies of fucking his own daughter on her birthday by acting it out with lookalikes.? Carmel had said that he had asked for a blond every year except last when he had wanted a brunette. I recalled that around my birthday last year I had dyed my hair dark brown to see if I liked it that way. It would be logical for him to remain anonymous too, as he's quite well known in the area. Then there was the way he had lifted my head from side to side for a good look at me when he first entered the bedroom. He must have thought all his dreams had come true when he saw that his sex slave for this year really was his own daughter. Whichever way I thought of, there was no more logical explanation than that I had been given the best fucking of my life by my own father. And to make matters worse, I had not only begged him to pleasure me, but had pleaded that he use me again soon.

I tried to cry myself to sleep but it just wouldn't come. All of a sudden, I just didn't want to be in that room anymore. I wanted to go back to my own bed, fall asleep and never wake up. But wait. What if I was wrong? Maybe there was a better explanation. I looked at my watch. It was coming up for midnight thirty. She might still be up. I went to the phone and got an outside line. The phone rang for a couple of minutes and when mother answered I apologised for waking her up. She was concerned and asked if everything was OK. I made an excuse and asked if I'd left an earring behind after my visit yesterday. She said that she hadn't found one, so I told her not to worry as it was probably in the car. With a lump in my throat, I asked if I had awoken father as well. All my fears came back to haunt me as mother said he had been at home all day but had gone out to do some business this evening. If only she knew that the business he spoke of was cumming in their daughter's mouth and pussy, kissing her passionately and fucking her in the ass. I bade mother goodnight, got my bag together and went down to the hotel lobby.

I saw a girl on reception that I vaguely knew and went to speak to her. I took out a photo I carried of father and mother and asked her if she'd seen him that evening. My heart sank when she said she'd seen him leave with a big guy a short while ago. Any hope that I'd been clinging to, that my fears might be unfounded, all disappeared at that moment.

I drove the short distance to my small apartment, and had another shower before going to bed. I replayed the evening's events again in my mind. In my thoughts now though, I was not blindfolded. I saw father's expression of lust as he scrutinised my face and saw that the girl he had bought really was his daughter. I saw him stroking my body in a way that no father should touch a daughter. Then I saw father fucking me in the mouth, his face contorted with dark desire as I swallowed every drop of his semen. The same semen that had helped to make me. Then I saw him eagerly licking my pussy. But I also saw me pressing the back of his head so that his tongue could go deeper. As I imagined father laying over me, thumping into me, I also saw my nails clawing at his back and heard my own voice begging him to go faster. And finally, when in my mind's eye, I saw father fucking me up the ass, I also saw my own hips moving to compliment his rhythm. I suddenly realised that now, whilst playing this back in my head, my hand was inside the bed sheets, busily rubbing away at my clitoris. And to my horror, as my dream father pulled his dick out of my ass and sprayed my back with his goo, in real life I heard myself groan:

'OOOOOOOHHHH, yesssss, yesssssss, let me have it daddy, let me have it.

Like I said at the beginning, all this happened a few weeks ago. I haven't been home in that time. I daren't look at father in case he guesses that I know his secret. Almost every night since it happened, I have masturbated over the memories. I know that makes me a wanton slut but I can't help myself. I've told my story to a ghost writer, who will prepare it for you to read. On the day I emailed her with the final details, I received another call from Carmel. Mr. Strange has asked to see me tonight. I think I'll go...


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