Jazz

JAZZ

I want to tell you about a girl called Jazz. Actually her name is Jaslyn but she prefers Jazz. I met her in a massage parlour (that is, a brothel) a couple of years ago. The arrangement at this particular establishment was you paid the house a flat fee for a nude massage with a "happy ending", and you paid the girls direct for any extras you might require like blow jobs, body slides and full intercourse, if they were willing.

Dark haired, 21-year-old Jazz has an olive complexion, a slender figure, small but lovely breasts, jutting nipples and a superb bum. The first time she stripped naked for me I was delighted to discover she also had a full bush, which has always been my preference since I find the shaved look a little too "pre-pubescent" for comfort. But it was her infectious smile that really won me as a fan -- that and her complete candour when it came to talking about her sex life, both real and imagined. It was obvious she enjoyed the work and wanted me, the client, to enjoy the experience too. Little wonder I saw her monthly for more than a year.

We would always start out with a pretty standard massage, me face down and Jazz on her knees on the table straddling me. Roughly halfway through the one hour booking I'd roll on my back and she would give me a reverse body slide, with her wonderfully furry pussy just an inch above my face and her face level with my cock. She would fondle me as we talked, always careful not to bring me off too quickly -- or at all, because sometimes I didn't want the happy ending, preferring to keep the erotic buzz going when I left.

She was genuinely interested in my personal fetishes and fantasies, and was quite open about what turned her on. She was living in a share house at the time and regularly joined her roommate and her roommate's boyfriend in bed when they were fucking. Jazz liked to watch other people having sex while she masturbated.

Occasionally she would masturbate for me (one of my kinks) while she told me about her sexual adventures. Watching her bring herself off was a special joy. She loved to vocalise when she had one hand on her clit and a dildo in the other: "Do you like my hairy cunt?" "Yes," I'd reply. "No, say it!" "I love your hairy cunt!" And she'd shudder in orgasm. On one occasion she gave me a gift of her panties that'd she worn for a day, done an aerobics class in, and finally masturbated in (another of my kinks). It was for my birthday, she said. I luxuriated in that intoxicating scent of her pussy for months before it faded.

When she wasn't giving old guys like me a thrill at the massage parlour Jazz was studying for an archaeology degree. But money was always tight, she told me, what with tuition fees plus accommodation plus living costs, and her sex work was strictly part time. Her financial situation got worse when her roommate's boyfriend moved out and the rent had to be split two ways instead of three.

It was at this point I made Jazz a proposition. I suggested she move into my place rent free -- not as in living and sleeping with me, but as a house mate with her own bedroom, bathroom and living space and, importantly, her own access. I told her there was one string attached.

What I required in return was for her to give me a certain access to her private, intimate life. I told her I would want to see her naked from time to time, in the shower, dressing and undressing, in bed playing with herself.... In other words I'd be a voyeur and she would be my own personal exhibitionist. I knew she had an exhibitionist streak, so I thought she'd take the offer seriously. She did, and moved in a short time later.

Thus began the most erotic 7 months of my life. Jazz played her part to the hilt. In fact I believe she got off on giving the old guy in the other half of the house a sexual charge whenever the mood took her. For my part I tried to be careful not to take advantage and push my luck. Whatever happened always had to come from her.

During those months she would wander the house semi naked, perhaps just in panties and bra, sometimes just in a thong - once, memorably, pacing the floor in just a bra while she had an argument on the phone with a friend. Many times she left her door open so I could glimpse her doing all the things a girl usually does in private. Shaving her underarms, trimming her bush, watching porn on her laptop, having phone sex with a girlfriend, even eating ice cream... It was all magical to me.

Once, when we were watching figure skating on TV together and she was in sensible pyjamas and totally ignoring me in favour of the drama on screen, she masturbated to a huge orgasm that left a wet patch on the sofa.

There were many occasions she deliberately left her worn panties on her bathroom floor for my erotic pleasure. Other times she left her bedroom door open and sex toys on her unmade bed when she went to uni. Once she left her laptop home, running and bookmarked to a lesbian porn site. I'm not sure if it was for her benefit or mine, but either way it gave me a hell of a charge.

Then there was the "twerking" when she'd bend over in front of me to give me a glimpse of her knickers -- or her puss if she wasn't wearing any.

Several times Jazz gave me a nude massage but I paid her to keep it "professional". But inevitably the curious, unequal nature of our relationship -- exploiter and exploited, if you will -- changed our view of each other and the magic cooled a little. Also inevitably, Jazz met a guy at university and became involved with him. She tried to hide it from me but I could tell she was "betraying" me, and I found myself behaving like a protective father or disgruntled former boyfriend. She took her revenge on my bad behaviour by shaving off her glorious bush!

One sad day she moved in with the boy and out of my life.

Actually, I think it was the familiarity of living together that helped defuse the erotic charge we'd both enjoyed at the beginning. For my part I began to see her more as a friend than a sex object. The staged sexual moments in lieu of rent became fewer and further between, which suited us both in the end. To be honest, when she moved out I was relieved to take possession of her part of the house again!

While the relationship lasted I kept thinking "Is this a #MeToo moment?" Am I guilty of imposing my will on this young woman and using my financial power to have my way with her? But then I thought we met when she was a willing sex worker and both understood what we were getting in to, so I would reject that characterization.

Several months later when my birthday rolled around a small package arrived for me with no sender's name. The card inside read "From your favorite hairy cunt!" It accompanied an item in a small ziploc bag. You can imagine what it was.