He phoned a few days ago. He was looking for someone else, but he got me. He asked a few questions about me, and I gave him my description and referred him to my link on the company website. He said he would call back. They never call back. They say that because they don't want to tell you no.
Later that evening he called back, said he checked me out and was excited about meeting me. He booked for last night. Normally I hate advance bookings, but this guy sounded different. He was coming in from out of town, and although he knew which hotel he was staying at, he did not have a room number. He said he would call me at 7 for our 8:00 appointment. He wanted me to stay for two hours. I still had doubts. And don't get me wrong. This isn't me being insecure, this is just what happens. Remember that part about trusting things clients say? It's just ill advised.
7 PM rolls around and sure enough he calls. We chat for a little bit, and confirm our plans. This is the fourth time we've talked. There's something about this guy. He seems different.
"You sound like a cool guy," I tell him.
"I am."
I believed him, and spent a much longer than usual time getting ready. I was looking forward to meeting him. I reminded myself to keep my expectations low though. You really don't know whats on the other side of the door until it opens.
When the door opened, I was struck by the Christian Bale/Ethan Hawke bone structure to his face, and the water dripping down his temple from the shower he'd just taken. His T-Shirt was clinging to his still wet body.
"I didn't tell you I was in crutches." He said with false bravado.
"Well, I was going to judge, but..." I said without skipping a beat. Instantly it was friends-on.
Our wit just bounced off each other as I hung my coat and he wobbled to the seating area on the other side of the room. He later explained to me that he had broken his back when he was 19 and only had 40% of the control he used to on his lower half... well, from just above the belly button. But that's not what we were talking about now. Now he wanted to know if I liked the new outfit he just bought, and we discussed our mutual love for the sweater vest. Something I haven't worn since my office job.
"I can fuck though," He says out of no-where
"Ok," I tell him. I say it in a way that I hope conveyed that I had no expectations.
"I just have reduced sensations, so you have to bite me and shit."
"I can do that," I think he was waiting for some of this to phase me. It didn't.
"Well lets do it then!"
We move to the bed, and he pushes me down on to it. The energy level between us spikes. We roughly fumble to take each others clothes off as he lifts me and pushes me further back on to the bed. And then, as soon as things heated up, they cooled off again. I'm straddling him, and we're kissing each other lightly
"Do you want a massage?" I ask.
"Yes."
I go to the bathroom to grab some lotion. The back massage is expected, but I decide not to go with that. I can't imagine how his arms are feeling from carrying himself around on those crutches all the time. I come back, and put his left hand around my waist as I begin kneading my thumb in to his right palm. His eyes roll back in his head. I made the right call. I massage up and down his right arm, then his left, his pecs, and the back of his neck. He sits up, cradling me in his lap, and I move on to his shoulders, his face nuzzled in my neck as I rub the many knots out of his back. Despite his request, I don't go any lower than his shoulders. I don't want to fuck his back up any more than it already is.
"We need more lotion," I tell him as the hotel mini runs out, "I dare you to call down to the front desk for some!"
He looks at me. I don't think this guy has ever backed down from a dare. He reaches for the phone.
"Ask for 13,"
"Hi, yes, I'm going to need 13 bottles of hand lotion brought up to our room, please... What? Yes, body lotion is fine... thanks"
"I like your tattoos," I tell him.
He laughs, "Most people don't." Above his left hip bone it said 'Fuck', and above the right it said 'Shit'.
"They're appropriate. I'd be saying the same thing if that happened to me."
We alternated between playing and talking for the next two hours. From between his legs, I looked up at him, and I assured him I wasn't afraid to hurt him.
"I meant it when I said you can bite me!"
"No, really," I said, squeezing his balls tightly in my hand, "I'm not afraid to hurt you."
He writhed on the bed underneath me, gasping, and punching the head board. "Oh my God!" He cried out.
I lightened my grip, only a little. " 'Oh my God' good, or 'Oh my God' bad?" I asked.
"Good! Good, good, it's good!" He moaned.
"Good," I said, tugging harder, and pulling his dick in the opposite direction. I moved up his body, taking sharp little nibbles as I went, stopping at his left nipple. I gripped the areola between my front teeth and leaned back. He cried out in pleasure. He knew not to touch me while I worked. He knew the rules. He'd told me the pain level he required, but we never talked about this being a dominant/submissive thing. Fuck was I enjoying it though. Perhaps there's more top in me than I thought. His eyes were closed, and I swung back and slapped him across the face. They flashed open as I slapped the same cheek again. That was it. He wrapped his arms around me and flipped me over on the bed. He was on top now, but my fingers were still wrapped around his balls, pulling as hard as I could. He was pulling against me, groaning with pleasure. He went for my neck, biting, and sucking, and kissing like mad.
"Stop it!" I yell, pushing him back with my right hand around his throat.
"Sorry," He mouths. He can't talk. I'm choking him.
"Lean into it," I whisper. He closes his eyes, relaxes his death grip on my breasts, and places his weight on the hand I have wrapped around his neck. I lighten up on his balls, and he starts rocking back and forth a little. He hasn't had an orgasim since his accident 7 years ago, so it's wind down time. I lower him down on to me, and wrap my arms around him. He's panting, trying to catch his breath.
"I haven't felt anything like that since..." He whispers, trailing off. He has one hand cupping the back of my head, the other stroking my ribs. He starts kissing me. Lightly at first, then with more and more passion. Between his lips, whiskers, and little nibbles, I'm suddenly the one gasping for air. He lowers him self down my body, and lifts one leg into the air, kissing and biting everywhere.
"No," I whisper, as he's about to go down on me.
"I'm not going to," He assures me and licks every where else. My cheeks, my inner thighs, my outter thighs, my knee pit. He puts his mouth everywhere, dragging his teeth across my skin. I'm convulsing. My body so far beyond my own control. He's been dragging his fingers along my labia, but when he decides the moment is right he pushes them in me, and starts pounding me with his knuckles. I cry out and soak the bed. He moves himself so he's sitting up against the head board, and pulls me up on to his lap. He holds me as I pull myself together again. We sit like that for a while before the talking begins again, and with the talking comes the joking and the laughing, then the playing and more not-sex.
I spent three hours with him and charged him for two. The third hour was paid for with a poutine. Completely worth it.
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