Her long blonde hair spilled across the crisp white pillow, her pearly white teeth sparkled in the warm morning sunshine and her breath came in short gasps of increasing intensity as she approached her orgasm.
“Am I really the best,” I whispered in her ear as I forced my cock ever deeper between her hairless pussy lips and deep into her sopping cunt.
“Yes!” she gasped.
“You’re not just saying that?” I asked as I thrust again.
Her tits jutted just out of reach but I still craned my neck in an attempt to suck a nipple as I fucked her.
“No!” she said agitatedly.
“Really?” I asked.
“Nooooooo,” she said as she started to cum.
“Oh baby,” I replied and I started to cum myself, “Really?” and my world was filled with marshallow clouds and fluffy penguins as my juices drained away.
“Oh that was so good, how was it for you?” I asked.
“Pretty average,” she said as I rolled off her, “Five out of ten.”
“What?” I demanded.
“Your cock isn’t particularly long or fat, you are unimaginative and frankly boring,” she said quite levelly.
“Bloody hell,” I said as I pulled my socks on, “I thought you were supposed to make me feel good.”
“You are mistaking me for a girlfriend,” she said, “While I am a paid professional.”
“An escort,” I reminded her.
“Escort, I didn’t get the chance to be an escort, you had me naked as soon as I walked in, you just want a whore,” she railed.
“Oh,” I replied as I watched her slip her shapely breasts into the cups of her sexy black bra.
“I thought I might at least get to the opera or something,” she sighed, “But it’s just bang bang bang.”
“I thought you liked me?” I explained, “I looked forward to this all week.”
“And I dress up and there’s nowhere to go,” she sighed as she pulled her knickers on, “I really can’t stand it any more.”
I stared open mouthed, I really thought she liked me, in a no strings professional way, she needed the cash to get through uni, I didn’t need commitment, so why not, it was supposed to be an escort service for professionals but no one was kidding anyone, it was prostitution pure and simple.
She reached for her black dress, the one she always wore, “And while we are being honest my name is Doris not Dolores, I work in Poundland, I have three GCSE grade C and I live with mum and three sisters, all right?”
“Right?” I replied, “So why tell me now?”
“So you know,” she said as she pulled her hold up stockings up her shapely legs.
“Right,” I agreed.
She pulled he dress on and went to the window and looked out across the park beyond.
Families were already playing together in the sunshine.
“Don’t go, I paid till noon,” I insisted.
“Shift starts at twelve, twelve till eight,” she said.
“But I want you,” I said.
“You are joking?” she queried.
I came up behind her, put my hands under her arms and cupped her breasts, “No, I still want you, I know I’m not a great lover but you can teach me can’t you.”
“Lover? my god, hello, sex, check emails, check ebay, check the website, phone mother sex, phone Harry, get a pizza, you just ignore me!”
“That’s what I pay for,” I explained.
“You just need a cunt,” she said.
“With shapely thighs, great tits,” I added.
“And no brain.” she stated.
“An ability to act professionally,” I corrected as my hands wandered under her skirt and began to ease her knickers down again.
“Quickly then,” she urged.
“What?” I demanded.
“Doggy style while I watch the children play.” she suggested.
“Right, yes of course, always wanted to,” I admitted.
“Then why didn’t you ask?” she asked.
“It’s a bit kinky?” I suggested.
“At least it’s not boring!” she replied.
“So where else do you want to do it,” I asked, “The bathroom, Hyde park?”
“A row boat,” she said, “In a van on the motorway, up a tree anywhere but a Premier Inn or your bedroom.”
My cock was nuzzling her pussy lips, “You know what I want?” I asked.
“No, what?” she asked.
“Bareback,” I said as I eased my cock into her sopping pussy.
“Me too,” she agreed, “Do it.”
The glorious soft warmth of her pussy entranced me, filling my heart with joy as I eased fully into her well worn cunt, “Oooohhhh,” she cooed, “That’s nice.”
“Just saying that?” I asked, “Part of your script?”
“No, shut up, fuck me!” she insisted, so I did, hard, exhaustingly hard and finally, finally I started to cum.
“That feels so good,” she insisted, “Who knows when the brat’s born I might get a Council House, oh and you can pay maintenance.”
“Right,” I agreed, “Which Poundland?”
“High street,” she admitted.
“I’ll pick you up at eight,” I suggested.
“In your dreams!” she said, “Look moron I’m dumping you.”
“Dumping me?” I queried.
“As a client,” she said, “Life’s too fucking short.”
“What about a date?” I asked.
“Hello, I’m not going to date you when I won’t fuck you for money am I?” she snapped.
“Maybe if I took you to the Opera?” I suggested.
“I suppose I could be persuaded,” she said, “Or a West End show or something, after all its no big deal to have your tiny little cock inside me is it?”
“I suppose not,” I agreed.
“So give me a ring when you have some tickets,” she said wistfully, “I always wondered what it’s like fucking on a sail boat when the waves are making it rock, or in a tent on a mountain.”
“I don’t care where I am when I’m fucking you,” I replied.
“Making love darling, it’s only fucking when you’re paying,” and with that she was gone.
I looked at the clock, 9.30, she had conned me again.
