Travelling with Odette

"He took off to Australia and never came back. My babysitter hadn't turned sixteen. My mother threatened to tell the girl's parents." I absorbed what she'd revealed. "I guess you found that hard to forgive -- your mother driving him away." She stayed silent. This story, I assumed, was true and personal. "How did you live after that?" "He owned a business and my mother got half in the divorce. We were never short of money."

I found myself wondering about how a rich girl came to be a prostitute. Hadn't she told me she'd taken up her job to pay for her college education? Why had she needed to?

It wasn't the first time she'd read my thoughts. She said, "I ran away when I was eighteen. I answered a modelling ad. The photographer ended up offering me a night-job lap dancing." She made it sound simple.

"What made you take up that sort of offer?" I was curious. "I like flaunting myself. Hadn't you noticed?" "I kind of had," I grinned. "And you look mighty perty when you do!" I remembered the bungy jump especially, but I still didn't think exhibitionism explained how she'd gone from the only child of a rich divorcee to a sweet prostitute who didn't mind doing it with an older man.

While I was thinking about it, Odette had reached down and was touching the front of my boxer shorts. I tried hard not to pay too much attention to her nimble fingers, and asked, "When did you discover you liked flaunting yourself?" "Once I noticed the less I wore the more boys looked at me." She glanced up at me then stared into my eyes. "I found that out when I was quite young. I always liked playing with boys rather than girls."

Maybe she was spinning a tale but I just wanted to hear it while her hand kept gently stimulating me.

"There was this boy next door. He was a year older. It seemed like one day he and I were just friends and the next he was eying up my legs or trying to peer down my top whenever there was an opportunity. I had breasts by then -- well, only titties really, and a little fluff where girls do. I'd been having periods for awhile, so I knew I was a woman -- that's what it felt like, anyhow ...

"This one time I thought I'd give him something to really look at and I put a T-shirt with oversize arm holes...and didn't wear my bra."

She looked at me to see if I got the picture. "I'd checked in the mirror, and if I lifted my arms you could see down the sleeves and glimpse the little mounds on my chest, and my pink nipples."

I glanced down at the tanned swellings in her bra.

Odette went on, "I went over to see the boy at his home. His mother was there but she left us alone in the lounge, and we sat on the sofa together. He was very aware of me in a gawky kind of way. I kept lifting my arm to flick my hair back, trying to act natural. As I did it the second time, and leaned forward a little, he noticed how much he could accidentally see. His eyes nearly popped out." She grinned. "It felt great that I could have that effect on a boy. It was like having my nipples physically touched!"

"What did you do next?" "Nothing that time ... I guess he just thought I'd forgotten to put on my bra. He wasn't going to say anything about what he could see -- you know, every time I made some supposedly unwitting gesture with my arm -- in case I stopped."

I entered into the spirit of her story, "So what was phase two? It had to be going topless." "Whenever my mother wasn't around I'd put on my little black bikini, go out to the pool, and ... yes, take off the top. I'd make sure I could be seen from his upstairs window." "So you caught him looking?" "It had to happen by accident, so it took a few attempts before flashing my tits coincided with him being up there and looking out at the right moment." She paused. "I had to make out I didn't see him duck behind the curtain, or the way he tried to conceal himself while he perved at me ... I just walked up and down the side of the pool with a hoop pretending to be skimming leaves off the surface. My nipples got so hard I thought they were going to split!" Odette gave me her cheeky minx look. "I didn't need to hop in the water to get the crotch of my bikini wet."

Little breasts on a slender female chest I could imagine, and the lower half of the black bikini. "So what did your face look like then?" "Like now, I guess -- it wasn't all that long ago -- but I was smaller of course. And my hair was longer. I was wearing it in a ponytail."

To the picture in my mind of the topless younger self she'd described, I gave a girlish but still sexually aware version of her face, and added a fluffy brunette ponytail tied with blue ribbon. "Did you ever show yourself to him again?"

Odette's eyes lowered to the bulge in my boxer shorts. It now formed an arch of cotton for her caressing hand. She said, "It was the holidays, so we didn't have to go to school. I took off my bikini top at the same time each day out by the pool, and I could be sure he would be waiting. I'd lie in the sun on the lounger or sit on the side of the pool or kneel and bend over the edge to fish out a floating ball or something... After the third time I found I wasn't getting as excited by it as I had at the start." She glanced up at my face. "I guess I was getting used to going topless."

My breath caught as her hand brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

"I decided I'd get in the water so I could take off my bikini bottom and swim nude for him." She paused to let me picture it. "That's when his mother caught him looking... She complained to my mother of course -- with great indignation -- and that led to hysterics at home. I was called all sorts of unpleasant names and had dire predictions made about my future. You can probably guess which one of them came true..."

I tried to look as sympathetic as I could about her teenage trauma. It wasn't easy, what with the distraction of her hand being separated from my manhood only by the thin cloth of my underwear. On top of that, Odette was semi-dressed and less than half my age. I said, "I bet the boy thought getting in trouble was worth it ..." I grinned at her, "If it had been me I would have thought I was the luckiest boy in the world." "I don't know how he felt 'cause we were banned from talking to each other, and his parents put their house up for sale. I guess they didn't want him having to live next door to a girl like me ... Anyhow," she brightened, "it helped me lose some of the silly inhibitions girls have about their bodies." "I'm glad," I said. "Yours is well worth showing off."

The Photographer

Her hand slipped through the flap in my boxer shorts to reward me for the compliment, and her fingers touched my erection skin to skin. She started teasing it down the leg of my underwear. When the head peeped out at the bottom she bent to kiss it, making me feel even more like a randy old goat.

"You have a nice penis," she said, staring at the exposed head. "You have a perfect vagina," I responded from memory. "Do you think so?" "I love the way the inner lips hide inside."

She hitched up her skirt and parted her legs so that I could see her split. "Really?" Maybe she didn't realise, but the sight of it always took my breath away. "That's perfection!" She squirmed happily. "Are your balls still empty?"

I nodded. Likely they were. While I was delighting in the newly encouraged stiffness of my cock, I did feel otherwise numb. Not that I objected to her playing with me -- especially not after that sexy kiss.

"We had fun today, didn't we?" she asked. "I'm still having fun." She gave me her cheeky grin. "Older men are so much more appreciative than younger ones." "You were telling me how you got into lap dancing." I was content to stare at her pussy and listen to her story.

"It was the photographer's idea." she resumed. "I'd turned eighteen and wasn't a virgin by then, so I wasn't all that surprised when the photographer, part way through the shoot, said he wanted to take some nude shots of me. I just took off my clothes while he and his male assistant and makeup artist watched... I had all my pubic hair then," she glanced at me meaningfully.

"I was an amateur, of course, but they seemed pretty pleased with the poses I did -- all kind of artistic, you know. Then the photographer asked if he could do some close-ups. I thought he was talking about taking them of my face, but he got the camera up close and pointed just at my breasts... It not only made my nipples grow but I started to get that wet feeling between my legs... I'm sure I wouldn't have let myself if I'd ever imagined he'd want to take shots, up close, down there, too..."

I tried to make a comment but she hushed me. "Just let me tell you what happened...

"The photographer suggested I sit in a chair while his assistant was rearranging the lighting. I kept my legs together, naturally, and thought I was just being given a break. Then the makeup artist came over and knelt at my feet. He just put his hands on my knees and drew my thighs apart. I felt helpless. I'd never had anyone look between my legs up close before, not even a doctor. The man told me to sit forward. I felt his fingers on my labia, pulling them apart and smoothing the hair out of the way. I thought, in some bizarre way, he was cold-bloodedly preparing me for sex, as if I was a doll.

"Then he pulled a wet-wipe out of a container he'd put on the floor when he knelt down. He was actually going to use it on me! The next thing I knew, he was delicately wiping the fold between my inner and outer labia. You know, making sure it was clean and pink I guess. It stung a bit. Then he did the other side. All the time I was getting wetter and wetter as if it was foreplay.

"He told me to stand up, hold the back of the chair, and bend over with my legs apart. 'Why,' I said. 'So I can make sure your bum's clean,' he said. I felt insulted, but I thought if I was going to let them take close-ups of me down there I didn't want to look like I didn't wash properly -- not that I'd ever thought of paying that much attention to detail before.

"He took out another wipe and used it on my butt hole. I just about creamed, but he didn't keep going long enough for that to happen, quite. He told me to stay in the same pose. Then I heard the camera start to click again."

Odette looked down between her own legs. "I guess my cunt got recorded from every possible angle after that -- they kept suggesting different ways for me to show it to them." "It's well worth showing. Especially now it's freshly shaved." She gave me a smile, and I asked, "I assume they stayed professional?" She'd started playing with herself, between the legs. "It didn't occur to me they might really want to fuck me as well. I thought it was just about showing myself to them. I'd only ever let one boy do it to me, and I hadn't been very comfortable about letting his cock go inside me."

"So they did -- fuck you that is?" "No. All I said was, it didn't occur to me that something like that went with posing for photos in the nude." I waited her out. "They asked me if I wanted to go to a private club with them. I asked why, of course. They said I could do a striptease on a stage with maybe a dozen guys watching and taking their own videos." "And you went?" "You'll have to find out another time." She bounced off the bed then pulled my boxer shorts down, sending my cock skyward. Hitching her skirt round her waist, she crawled back over my legs. "You don't have to come if you can't, but I do!"

Her thighs were straddling mine. I closed my eyes as I felt a beautiful slippery softness engulf my cock. Her butt cheeks touched my belly, and then she started riding the hardness held inside her. The hem of her skirt fell and draped over my bare midriff. She put her hands flat on my chest for leverage, each movement of her hips rubbing the sensitive roof of her vagina against my pole, seeking relief from the itch she was figuratively scratching.

She came silently, her body trembling.

I still hadn't, and probably couldn't.

She pulled off me and slid down my legs until she could put her mouth over the head of my slippery cock. She didn't seem to mind tasting her own juice. She used her mouth, her tongue, and then her hand before moving on to using all three together. Even though my cock still acted as if I'd taken Viagra, and I felt pleasurable thrills, they weren't leading me to orgasm. She figured that out once I started to sag a little.

"Maybe you shouldn't go to the party tonight," she said. "I've worn you out." "But I want to go with you." She smiled happily. "I want to go to it with you too." She cuddled up to me, cupping my thigh between her legs. The moist stubble of her pubic hair prickled my skin.

CHAPTER FIVE -- GROWING FONDER

Dining at the Hotel

You may recall from Chapter 1 that the name I gave was Jason Tomber. I'm a 50 year-old from Boston, and experienced a midlife crisis after a disappointing marriage and the death of my wife. I took the trip to New Zealand, following my fiftieth birthday party, to indulge in what my father might have called "forbidden pleasures". They were to be found, in this case, with a girl my daughter's age -- a delightful 19 year-old nymphet called Odette. And yes, she is a prostitute, and works for an escort agency.

My forbidden pleasure was, from my point of view, intended as a once in a lifetime experience. It required someone young and lovely who did not mind selling herself to sexually indulge a much older man. I would have settled for simple acceptance of that role, but Odette brought enthusiasm to it beyond my wildest expectations, as if she really enjoyed sharing her body with me. As a result, I was able to delight in all the advantages of having a youthful partner on a vacation in New Zealand's premiere tourist resort of Queenstown.

We doubtless looked an ill-assorted couple. I suppose, when we weren't being openly affectionate in public, some people who saw us might have thought we were father and daughter. Others likely guessed what our relationship really was, but some males may have thought I was just a rich and very lucky middle-age man, one they would like to emulate when they reached my years.

Only incest would have explained to the first group the nature of Odette's and my behaviour in our private moments together (I was certainly not into that) and the middle group would have wondered how much I had to pay, or been amazed at how delightedly Odette indulged my sexual whims. I guess only the last group would have accepted the kind of things we did with each other at such disparate ages.

So, Odette had turned out to be everything I had wanted and more. She was a brunette with curly hair, blue-eyed, intelligent, and not long enough on the game to be jaded by her duties. On top of that, she was nicely tanned all over, had perfect legs, and a sweet tight bare little pussy with a triangle of black stubble above camel toe labia.

I guess that's all any man could ask, even if he was paying for it; and Odette was worth every New Zealand dollar it cost. But, like all good things, it was coming to an end. We were on the final few days of our holiday together, and it was our last night in Queenstown. Content with each other's company, and feeling rather languid after all our sexual escapades -- both real and those told in stories to each other -- we dined leisurely in the hotel restaurant. Odette behaved like a lady, flashed nothing but her braless décolletage, and kept her hands above the table.

I thought she might even be finally losing interest in sex with me, but she proved that was wrong in the lift when we were returning to our suite. We had it to ourselves and, when the door slid shut, Odette hitched up her evening gown to admire her pussy in the full-length mirror on the back wall. (Slim young women are just so beautiful down there!)

"Do you think it needs shaving again?" she wanted to know. I studied the reflection with a feeling like love. "You've kept it nice and bare on your labia, and," I added, "I rather like the way it's thickening up on your Mons."

That did not stop me also admiring the taut mound of her bare belly above it, which delighted me in a way only an exposed teen body could. She looked pleased, and studied her genital reflection again. "Some of the other girls back at the agency have inner pussy lips that poke out. Don't you think that would be sexier?"

Obviously the agency hadn't told her I'd asked for someone whose vulva didn't look like that. "I don't know," I said. "What do you think?" She studied herself again. "I guess I rather like being the way I am." "You couldn't be more perfect." She turned her head and smiled at me. "You're sweet." Then, ginning, she gave me the sort of impish look I loved to see on her face, inserted her finger in her slit, moistened it and, dipping it again in her "ink well" as required, drew a heart shape on the mirror, finishing just as a bell chimed and the lift lurched to a halt. "Bet no one will ever guess what that was drawn in," she giggled sexily.

Her dress fell back in place, and we turned as the lift doors opened. A man, waiting to take our place and descend, gave Odette an admiring glance as we came out. Turned on, she flirted with her eyes.

Heaven on Earth

Secure in our hotel room, Odette flopped on the bed on her back and immediately lifted the hem of her long dress up over her face, exposing her lithe body nude from ankles to midriff.

"What are you doing?" I reacted to her strange behaviour. "Letting you study my pussy so you won't feel embarrassed by my watching you." Her explanation was muffled. I told her, admiring the fleshy lips and the inviting slit, "I've never felt embarrassed looking at your sexy pussy. Not even when you were hanging upside down in public on the end of the bungy cords." She giggled. "This way you don't have to try and read in my eyes what I'm thinking." "What are you thinking?" "That we fly back to Auckland tomorrow and that I don't want you to forget me." "Odette..." I sank to my knees on the soft carpet at the end of the bed. "I won't ever forget you."

She lifted the dress off her face for a moment to see what I was doing, and then covered it again. I heard her voice again: "I'm glad."

In the position I had taken, looking up the valley of her legs, her parted thighs looking so silky smooth, I had to burst out with, "I adore every inch of you!" Then, until her feet touched the floor, I drew her down on the bed towards me. Lowering my head I started licking her soft inner thigh near the top. Her youthful skin was a delight to taste.

She giggled happily, her belly rippling.

I brought my tongue close to her fleshy labia without touching them, teasing her. I could smell the musky sex odour of her pussy mixed with the sweeter fragrance of a body perfume or moisturiser. As I kept tantalisingly her, holding back from going to my ultimate target, I lifted one hand and began stroking her remnant pussy hair which, from stubble, had lengthened and thickened to a short mat in the three weeks we had been on vacation. I made sure, when my fingers came near the top of her slit, that they did not touch it.

Odette's breathing kept quickening.

That she was not able to watch what I was doing, the dress still being over her face, had started to turn me on too.

"You're making me all wet!" she panted, and I knew she wasn't referring to my saliva.

I moved my tongue to the creases between her thighs and her labia -- the beautifully symmetrical lazy "V" at the top of a woman's legs -- and began to lick each side in turn -- not something you can enjoy as much if there's any pubic hair in the way. Fortunately, Odette now had none below her Mons.

She murmured sounds of growing pleasure, until she finally begged, "Stop teasing me!"

But I didn't. I just paid more attention to licking the sides of her bulging outer pussy lips.