The Hand Job Girl

I eyed him suspiciously. He was easily the hottest, sexiest guy I had ever been with. Getting carried away with him would be very, very, very easy. I suddenly didn't trust myself, but what choice did I have? If Thelma heard she had to refund a customer because I couldn't bring them orgasm then she might start thinking about a replacement. I couldn't afford to let that happen.

"Fine," I said, not being able to hold back a horny smile. "I believe you that you're disease free. But as soon as you're ready to come, I want to know so I can get off of you. I don't want to be stuck with a damn swelling belly."

"I promise," he assured me.

I let my knees rest on either side of his rippling abs and muscular chest.

My hands ran along the length of his stomach. He was too good to be true.

I let my black pointy boobs brush off his chest as I tilted my bum upward, then pressed my pussy overtop his giant, quivering cock head.

I moaned in appreciation as I slid down his greasy erection, then began rising and falling.

His hands were skilful and tantalizing, rubbing smooth palms along my bum cheeks and thighs.

I let my own hands press onto his shoulders while my boobs continued their assault over his oiled up body.

A wave of pleasure began to sweet over me after just five, pleasure filled minutes. A fourth orgasm? Really?

I shivered in his arms, and suddenly, I must have set him off, because he began panting loudly and confirmed I had ignited in him an orgasmic earthquake that was starting to erupt.

"I'm coming," he blurted out, a look of profound ecstasy splashing across his face.

I smiled. I had finally done it, set him off like some pent up powder keg.

I let my left leg slip off the table until my foot hit the floor. It was time to lift myself off of him.

I lift my right leg off as well, and was about to swing off him, when the sole of my left foot slipped on some lube that had spilt onto the floor.

I lost my footing and my pussy slammed back down over top of his giant steel hard cock.

I took me a second to get my bearings so I could try once more to leap off him and avoid his firing sperm, but it was too late. The ten or twenty second delay meant that I was firmly in place as his spurts fired long and deep inside.

"Shit," I whispered, realizing I was too late to avoid the unthinkable. I let my oily breasts dangle onto his slippery chest, and simply let him have his fun, winding and grinding my hips to maximize both our pleasure as he emptied out inside.

He finally stopped, panting furiously, and I just lay on his chest, soaking up the bliss until a knock began pounding at the door.

I checked the clock. I had lost track of time. It was now twenty-two minutes since I'd asked Harold for an extra ten.

"Damn, we'd better get dressed. Harold has a foul temper when you cross him."

"I gotta go, Sandra," he yelled at me through the door. I left the key on the counter by the front door. Lock up for me on the way out, will you?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the ceiling. I didn't like assuming extra responsibility.

"And what do I do with the key when I lock the door?" I shouted back.

"Just slide in under the mat and I'll get it first thing tomorrow when I open up."

"Fine, I'll do that. Goodnight."

"Bye."

I listened as his footsteps echoed further and further away. Then the sound of his engine roared to life and he was gone.

"Sandra, is that your name? A very pretty name indeed."

"Thanks."

I rose to get up. His hand gently slipped into mine. "You still haven't asked me for my name," he whispered.

I looked down at him. His cock was still fully erect, and his muscular toned body was just so eerily tempting.

There was something magical about him and definitely something addictive. I decided I should be careful where he was concerned. He was not like other men. Most men, once they'd had their fun, and gotten their rocks off, were shrunken, quickly dressed, and out of there in a jiffy. This guy was so very different. He was still so very hard, still so very horny, and still so very interested in me. His strong hand felt warm and gentle, and he tugged at my arm, trying to get me to sit on top of him again.

I was instantly hot and bothered. And yet, I needed to get away from him before the inevitable happened. I had also heard horror stories from other girls over how they had fallen in love with clients from time to time and had their hearts broken and their lives complicated. This dreamy hunk was certainly tugging on my heart strings, especially since he seemed to be so damn enraptured by me.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the ceiling. "Are you trying to mess with my head?" I asked. I believe in $200 to $300 hundred an hour, depending on what a guy wants, nothing more."

"And what if a guy wanted to spend the whole night?"

I stared at him incredulously. "For that a guy would have to be willing to fork over a whole thousand."

He rose from off the table and walked over to his pants, rifling through them until he found his wallet. He then counted out ten crisp one hundred dollar bills and tossed them down onto the table.

My eyes widened. I had never had a guy wanting to spend more than an hour with me before. A whole night? His damn jizz was still drying inside my pussy. Hadn't he had enough?

"Are those bills even real?" I asked.

He frowned. He suddenly became red faced, and scooped them back up, stuffing them into his wallet.

"No need to insult me," he said indignantly. "I've been trying very hard to let you know that I'm smitten by your ebony beauty. And you've been trying very hard to doubt every word that comes out of my mouth."

His eyes were suddenly full of hurt. I was impressed. For a guy that could easily have any woman he wanted, he was certainly displaying all the signs of being obsessed with my face, body and personality.

"If you don't believe in love at first sight," he added. "Then I really don't see the point."

"Surely I'm not your first escort," I countered. "You've probably had dozens, maybe even a hundred paid girls before me."

"Nope," he corrected. "I saw your pic on the escort website when I was looking up an old classmate of mine. I bumped into her the other day and asked her for a date. She gave me the escort website address and I checked it out. I was shocked to find out she was selling her body."

"We do not, as you put it, sell our bodies. We provide some upscale entertainment for lonely men like yourself."

"I would hardly categorize myself as being lonely. On the other hand, I will admit that seeing you by accident on the site really got my juices pumping. I saw lots of very pretty, sexy women. But I became infatuated with you. I want to spend more time with you."

He tossed the thousand back on the table. "Go ahead, spend an evening with me, what have you got to lose?"

"My sanity for one thing," I countered. "Guys like you fall in and out of love the way you change your socks. Today it's me, and tomorrow it's some busty blond, then a tall wiry redhead, and then, before you know it, I've been buying into all your love at first sight bullshit, thinking you're about to whisk me off to some mansion, like the pretty woman story, when in reality you're getting ready to dump me like yesterday's sack of trash."

"You have a very pessimistic view of men."

"Not a pessimistic view, but rather a realistic view. But, if you want to buy me for the evening, you're a hot dreamy hunk and I've got nothing better to do, so I can swing by your place for that thousand, as long as you promise to drive me home in the morning."

"What's wrong with us staying here? You do, after all, have the key."

"For one thing, it's against the rules to work on company premises after hours. Second, anything done in the shop means they would get half the money. They can't have half if it's at my place or yours."

I scooped the money back up and popped it into my purse. He seemed to be harmless yet irresistible, rich yet discerning and sincere. His question had been, 'what did I possibly have to lose?' The answer terrified me. Only my heart, perhaps? Only my damn heart. We were always warned by management not to become emotionally attached. We were supposed to keep them coming back for more, but not at the expense of possibly falling in love. Sex workers provided sex and companionship. We were supposed to distance ourselves from matters of the heart, not entangle ourselves so deeply in it that we would become emotionally attached. Girls that began to become emotionally attached were girls that began to give it away for free, and girls that gave it away for free were no longer valuable to the money making business.

XXX

From the time I stepped through his mansion door, until the time the crack of dawn began to send silver slivers of light past his bedroom window, we remained fervently in each other's arms.

He had started out in the evening smelling of lavender aftershave and woodsy scented underarm spray. Only now, by morning, he smelt of my gushing ejaculate and his own weeping body odor.

He had started out in the evening smelling of minty fresh breath, only now, by morning, he smelt raunchy and his breath was more like onions than lilacs, but it somehow turned me on.

We had also spent the night doing the bump and grind, breaking over worked condoms and building up layers of salty sweat that seemed to ooze sensually out of every pore.

"I've never met a man like you before," I whispered sincerely. "You make me want to give the thousand back. The pleasure's been all mine, really."

"From the moment I saw you on their website, you're stunning black face has been etched like a brand in my tortured brain. I just knew I had to have you. That is why I asked the club owner for a girl specializing in hand jobs. I knew they would bring you to me."

"You could have asked for me by name," I countered, adding a giggle, and nestling my nose into his muscular chest.

"I could have, but I didn't want to give them the impression I was stuck on you. I figured if they knew, they might try and pressure you to keep our sex life exclusively at the club, and I wanted to see you socially."

"But you knew nothing about me except for a few pics?"

"Not entirely true. There is a fairly long bio on you, and you did write a paragraph or two next to your pics that explained your like and dislikes and how you loved to please your men. It all conspired to get me hooked.

Hmmm, Steve and Sandra. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

"I think this whole thing is crazy. You must have known dozens or even hundreds of women in your time. Many of them just as good looking as me, many of them even better looking and-"

"Stop right there," he protested. "None of them were better looking than you. Black or white, you are simply the very best. Extremely pretty, with a set of fabulous bum cheeks, firm giant natural breasts. And you are a whole lot of fun, with a charming and sweet personality. And the way you wear your hair, paint your long sexy nails, or even plump up your lashes. It all turns me on to no end. I'm in heaven when I'm with you."

His words floored me, and they also struck a chord in my longing heart. He had certainly been willing to put his money where his mouth was. He was also insatiable where holding me in his arms was concerned. He was certainly obsessed and infatuated with me, no question. If I kept on seeing him, could love be far behind I wondered?

"You really like me more than other girls you know? Be honest."

"My feelings for you are like molten lava compared to the insipidly cold feelings I have for all the rest."

"All the rest. I have to tell you that the term 'all the rest' does make me a little jealous where you're concerned. I wonder if that means I am starting to fall for you."

"I'm not sure what any of it means either. I am only sure that from the moment I laid eyes on your picture I knew that I had to have you, and now that I have, I want to keep on having you. Wow, that was quite a mouthful, did it make any sense?"

"Plenty of sense, actually. But only, of course if you are not going to be seeing other women as well."

"I was kind of hoping you would say that."

"Really? How so? Most well off bachelors like you would rather cut off their right arm then dare to enter into a monogamous relationship."

"Truthfully? I suppose you're right. But there is just something about you that screams the words 'interesting,' 'intriguing' 'and captivating.' When I'm in your presence, I feel like a damn king."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," I blurted out, feeling my heart start to ache. He certainly knew how to push a woman's buttons. I was suddenly confused. It didn't seem rational to go back to my old life when he seemed to be preaching something new. But for how long would he feel that way? And just where exactly would we be going from here? Back to our old lives? Would I keep on seeing him often? But for money? Or would we be actually dating the way real couples date? And would he be keeping his hands all over me but his money to himself from here on in. Would it all lead to a long term relationship? Would I go sailing off into the sunset like some kind of pretty woman? Maybe that elusive walk down the aisle perhaps with a millionaire Caucasian hunks that seemed to be too good to be true and that worshipped the very ground I walked on?

My phone started ringing in my purse. I thought I had turned it off, but obviously I hadn't.

"Excuse me," I said, reaching over his white chest until my big black boobs squished his flexed, sweat soaked muscles.

I yanked the phone out of my purse and glanced at the number. It was the agency. Harold's private line.

I was tempted to just ignore it as Steve's lips reached up and latched onto my mouth, providing me with a burst of sheer heaven. Being with him was certainly a whole lot sweeter than any other guy I'd ever been with. Still, I was smart enough to know that if I didn't answer Harold now, he'd simply keep on calling. Still, it irked me. It was Saturday, and supposed to be a scheduled day off. I suddenly wondered if the weekend college girl had called in sick again. No way was I going to take her place. Five days of milking endless cocks, sticking them between my boobs, and even licking the cum off their cocks with my tired tongue was enough excitement for one week. Besides, I was hopeful that Steve and I might spend the entire weekend together, getting to know so much more about each other than merely how fabulously well he could bring me to orgasm at will.

"What's up Harold? Couldn't find the key under the mat?"

"No, I found it alright. Thelma asked me to call you."

"What's that bitch want now?"

"That bitch, as you call her, is listening in on the other line. The store has cameras and listening devices that kick in after the shop's supposed to be closed."

"Let me guess. She heard a lot of moan and groan."

"More than that. She heard you say you'd go spend the night with Steve for another thousand. She just wants to remind you of agency rules. Half of all outcalls belong to the agency."

"I gave the money back," I lied. "Steve and I are simply on a date, is all."

"And you are going to get your butt kicked by Thelma, is all!"

"I'll do my own butt kicking, Harold," Thelma shouted into the receiver, confirming that she had indeed been listening in on the other line.

"You wanna fuck Steve on your own time, fine," Thelma said, signalling she wasn't going to push the issue. "Harold tells me you were doing us a favor anyways by staying past your time, so I'll let it go this time. But be careful getting attached to clients. It can really mess with your heart and mind. Enjoy your days off."

Thelma then hung up. The click had a certain finality to it and I had no illusions that Thelma would be biding her time in extracting revenge. Escorts still were in high demand. Many other agencies had been after me for months, offering the moon. Thelma knew that axing her only hand job specialist without an adequate replacement lined up would not be wise.

"What was that about?"

"The dragon lady was listening in to me and you making love at the shop. She wanted half the thousand we agreed upon."

"You told her to fuck off, I hope."

"Politely, and in a round about way."

"Maybe you should have just quit."

I stared at him intently. I was suddenly nervous, real nervous. For quite some time I had been thinking of getting out of the escort business. I had about thirty grand saved, and my car was paid off, but I desperately needed a man in my life to make it happen. I was a girl who was far too horny to simply be without a man for any great length of time. I had no steady boyfriend, and knew that without one, I would be slipping back into the seedy escort world just to satisfy my sexual needs. Getting paid for what I loved to do was an occupation worth holding onto if there was nothing better to take me out of it. I glared at Steve's incredibly handsome face. He was definitely something better. But did he want me in that way? Or was all his loud mouth talk about needing me and only me, merely that, simply loud mouth talk. As my Jamaican grandmother used to say so eloquently, 'sometimes empty barrels made the most noise.'

"If I had of quit then I wouldn't get any more money, silly. What would I live on? Who will pay my rent?"

My heart began to thump insanely hard in my chest. In so short a time he had built up my hopes. I had handed him my heart and given possession of my mind to him, and now it felt like he owned my damn soul. I was clearly at his mercy. It suddenly struck me hard that Thelma might have been on to something when she talked about not getting emotionally attached to clients.

"Stop paying rent. You can move in here with me," he spat out, without hesitation. "I can give you a spare key and you can come and go as you please. As you can see, I have so many rooms that many of them aren't even furnished yet. You can set up your furniture in them if you like."

The room began to spin. I was being sucked into his world and I fought to swerve away from his tempting offer, trying to steer my mind into at least thinking about the damn pros and cons. It was all well and good to start falling for some impossibly handsome white stud that simply worshipped the very ground I walked on. But would he still feel that way about me in a few days? Familiarity bred contempt, or so the old saying went. Once a week or two passed, and the novelty wore off of him being in the presence of the world's greatest hand job specialist with large black breasts and a super pretty face, what then?

He had the money to buy any woman he wanted. I now wondered what I might feel like if I did start really falling for him, only to find out he was still using escorts behind my back, or worse still, in front of my face.

"If I did quit the agency, and if I did take you up on your offer to move in, where would that leave you and I?"

"As in?" he said, obviously playing dumb on purpose to heighten my stress levels. There was no better way to get inside the head of a person, than to pretend you didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

A wave of frustration swept over me. I was feeling like a fool, under his spell and not knowing what was really in his heart. He held all the cards, and he was holding them far too close to his vest for them to be of any comfort to me whatsoever. Handsome desperate men I could get every day of the week. Men throwing money at me like it grew on trees, I could always also get quite easily. But this Caucasian millionaire, possibly the sexiest man alive, was pushing all my buttons, turning my heart to mush and my mind into a field of somewhat impossible hopes and dreams. He was hinting I was the absolute woman of his own dreams, without, however, hinting as to how long this treasured infatuation with me was supposed to last. Was I supposed to be today's dream girl? But tomorrow's tossed aside trash? It was all so easier when they just paid for my body with no damn strings. No expectations. No fantasies to come true. No riding off into the HEA sunset 'pretty woman' style.