Thank God It's You

This post is a rework of "That Smile" from 2013, to Tell You About ... Desire!

When it comes to 'desire', I have a genetic predisposition - I am a male of a certain age (17-70). The degree of desire does vary with relationship status and age. By my late 50's, being in a sexless marriage and relying on sex workers for my sexual pleasure, I found that I could last 3 weeks before the urges started to build up, but by the 4th week, I had 'blue balls' and the urge became an ache.

Now the average sex worker is in it for the money, not her own sexual desire. But occasionally one meets a gem who enjoys the sex as much as or sometimes more than the money. I immediately put her on my 'regulars' speed dial. Daniella is one such regular.

On the day in question, my ache is bad. My favourite brothel is near my home rail station, so I arrive just after 6pm. I had been seeing Daniella, my Moroccan Maid, regularly for a while. I was her last client for the day. When she saw me come in, she ran down the corridor, threw her arms around me, plants a passionate kiss, and says, "Thank God it's you. I've had a shitty day and I need some 'me' time".

With the preliminaries finished quickly, we welcome each other passionately. I quickly go down on her so the Tongue Engine can start to deliver some 'me' time. Her cunni linctus tastes as sweet as honey and my honey Daniella is really 'buzzing'. Finally, in desperation (?) she jumps me and rides me like a woman possessed, possessed with a need, the desire to be fucked, hard, to be filled, to come and come hard on me.  She twists and grinds on me, working her clit hard against my pubes, until she comes, with that deep down vaginal orgasm, that starts by clenching 'little Tom' tightly, then with spasms that spread to her thighs and legs, squeezing around me, then up her body, tensing, throwing her head back.  With such glorious, intense sensations coursing through my body too, I can't help but come with her.

Then she collapses across my chest.  Her gorgeous breasts crushed between us, her chest heaving in exhaustion, her whole body glowing with the sheen of perspiration. And she looks into my eyes with the most contented, serene smile I have ever seen. It was almost like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream (well it was my cream actually).

We lie together, she on top of me, for a couple of minutes as we catch our breaths, then she rolls off into the crook of me arm, and says, "I'm fucked.  I needed that.  I could just go to sleep in your arms".

Thanks Daniella.  You certainly know how to make a man feel like he is desired as the greatest lover in the world.

That smile?  Eat your heart out Mona Lisa!

(Click to see who else is desirable/desiring!)

Post Script

Seven year later, I am no longer of that 'certain age'. Post prostate radiotherapy, the urges of desire are now but a warm memory.

Further, with Covid-19 pandemic lock-down, all our bordellos have been closed since March 2020 and probably won't open again till about June 2021. The city of Melbourne might have managed to crush its 2nd wave of Covid, but we are still having to live in a Covid safe society. So sex with masks at approved social distance, just doesn't have any appeal.

Missed Wicked Wednesday Connection

It was the current Wicked Wednesday prompt "#432 Missed Connections" that reminded me of this incident some 9 years ago. This Reminiscence is a rework of a post of that time.

I first met TM at a Melbourne brothel back in 2010. We hit it off immediately and soon had exchanged phone numbers. A couple of months later, she decided to leave that establishment, and asked if I would like to continue seeing her privately and exclusively.

We had planned a Wicked Wednesday lunch and afternoon of debauchery. But a massive storm blew up Tuesday night and the roof of TM's house sprung a leak. The owner and/or agent were to come to inspect the damage on the Wednesday afternoon, so our little Wicked Wednesday Connection was Missed, and our tête-à-tête was postponed to Thursday.  

So we had a Wicked Thursday, skipping lunch, launching straight into a fucking awesome couple of hours. 

 

We were recovering, reclining in the lounge, sipping hot chai lattes, she in nothing but a bath-robe, and me mostly dressed. Suddenly the dogs started barking outside - TM looked out the window and saw a couple of tradesmen coming to the door.  It appears that they had been sent to prepare a quotation for repairs.  TM was thus tied up showing the workmen the problem, so I surreptitiously finished dressing, quietly said my goodbye and excused myself.

It was the next day that I got a text message from TM saying that she couldn't find my "envelope" and that she thought we had a "business relationship". Oops! Red face!!!  I quickly arranged a wire transfer.

 

Our "relationship" only lasted a couple of more months before we had to say 'Goodbye'.

A Buddy to Remember

One of the beauties of aging, is that you have more memories to reminisce over.

The period I am writing about was 9 years ago and there are contemporaneous blog posts that I will refer to. Whilst this reminiscence might seem to be through rose coloured glasses, they are not artificially tinted.

I first met TM in a brothel. We hit it off immediately and over a number of regular visits and frequent pillow talks, got to know a bit about each other. She had married very young, with no career, but eventually the marriage went bad. She turned to sex work as a convenient, easy way to make sufficient money to survive. Now she enjoyed sex and had a good temperament for this work. Her philosophy was to make her clients feel that they were 'making love' with her, what is sometimes called a 'girl friend experience'.

We exchanged telephone numbers to keep in touch about our availability. Well one day, she rang to say that due to a change in circumstances, she was leaving the brothel work, but would I like to continue seeing her privately. She lived in a rental cottage at the sea-side, a good hour out of my normal travel, but I said I would love to continue seeing her.

It took some surreptitious juggling of times between home and work, but we did get to spend some wonderful times together. I was her only 'partner' over this time. It wasn't really a 'client' relationship, although I did assist her financially. It wasn't regular enough in visits or payments to make it a 'sugar daddy' relationship. Perhaps 'Booty Buddy' or 'Friends With Benefits' would better describe what we had. TM summed it up best, describing us as a 'couple of survivors comforting each other'.

Being out of work, the government dole payment required her to undertake some occupational training. She signed up for an Aged Care Attendant certificate, but didn't really find it suited her temperament. She was a good photographer, particularly seascapes, and we talked about how she might turn this into some sort of career option, say in framed photographs in a tourist spot.

A few months in, she mentioned that she had met someone that had asked her on a date. I told her that if it became serious, and our friendship was inappropriate, to tell me and I would step aside. I never saw her for a few months, what with her going overseas for a friend's funeral, then her own family issues.

It was in the December; I had received a large Christmas hamper bonus from work, so I packaged up some of my largess for a hamper for TM.  I slipped out of work early and headed on down to visit. TM was home and pleased to see me, but greeted me with a chaste kiss. I knew immediately that my time had come.

We settled on the front veranda with chai lattes to catch up. The sun was coming down in the west, a warm sea breeze wafted across the fragrant cottage garden, as our conversation covered the mundane (her purchase and restoration of some old furniture), to deeply personal (her struggles with a change in her contraceptive; her boyfriend leaving his wife and asking her to move in with him and the pros and cons of whether she should), to my home-life issues with my wife's health. She inquired whether the 'girls' back at the brothel were looking after me (I hadn't been back since seeing TM at home).

The sun was about to kiss the horizon and it was time for me to go. With a warm cuddle, wishing each other well and a peck on the cheek, I headed off into the twilight.

Nine years on, I still have warm, fond memories of those days. I did see her FB page once (I wouldn't contact her tho) and saw that that relationship back then had not survived. She went back to college in a course that tapped her creative side but in a very practical hospitality role, in which she now works. A new relationship with a biker seems to be going well, and suits the wild streak in her personality.

Bon voyage through the rest of your life buddy. We survived!

The Five Senses Of Sex

A few years ago, I had the great pleasure of a number of home visits with a delightful Booty Buddy, TM (a previous Lady Of Pleasure). Now TM had an uncommon taste for ejaculate. Further she was especially turned on by the multi-sensual process.  

For the sake of this post, it might be best if I write in the first person from her perspective, based on how she described it to me.

(TM) "Tom had taken a half day off work for a morning visit. I had a nice lie-in in bed awaiting his knock on the door. When he arrived, he had warm, fresh-baked croissants and fresh squeezed orange juice - yum. We quickly slipped back into my still-warm bed to share breakfast, but that was short-lived as we couldn't keep our hands and mouths off each other.

Now I was pretty horny waiting for him, but I was wet and needy now in no time. I love fucking mature experienced gents like Tom - he really knows how to please a women, his touches, his kisses, his mouth, his tongue. For now, he makes it all about me. I lost count of how many times he had me orgasming, but Tom still hadn't come himself (its an age thing he tells me). It must have been almost an hour before we rolled apart, breathless, hot and perspiring.

We must have cuddled together for all of 5 minutes as we cooled a little and caught our breaths. But like Oliver, I wanted MORE, but not just for me this time, but something special for US, together.

I rolled Tom onto his back, and slid down his body, trailing my fingers down his arms and kisses down his chest. As I reached his cock, I flicked the tip of his glans with my tongue, then engulfed his shaft in my mouth. His still semi-erect cock stirred back to life.

But I wasn't after just a common old blow-job - I have something very special in mind. Now we have discussed this once before and Tom had indicated that a DIY hand-job gave him better control and outcome. I signal to him to take hold. I slide down further so I can lick his scrotum and suck his balls. I look up the length of his body and ours eyes meet. His eyes are smiling, his lips are moist and he licks them lightly. The look of his tongue and lips bring back memories of where they were just half an hour ago. I can feel my cunt getting slick and hot with the memory. My gaze caresses his whole body, his shoulders, chest, those abs, the bulging arm muscles as he pumps his cock. I stretch my arms up to surround his hips and my fingers stroke his stomach and I can feel him lifting to meet his down strokes. My head is against his leg and I can hear his pulse starting to race in his arteries. His breath is fast now - the sound of his gasps has my own breaths and heart beating in sync. My nostrils are on fire now as they take in the sent of our earlier sex. I can smell and taste my own cunni-linctus on his thighs and scrotum.

Tom's hand is really pumping now. I can see his engorged purple glans above his fist. His shaft is thick and red and hard now. He lets out a little grunt and his torso lifts and starts to shake a little. He has stopped pumping now and just holding his glans. The thick purple veins are bulging around his dick the urethra along the underside is bulging now, filling up with his lovely cum. I can see it starting to twitch, then Tom lets go and says "Its your's now"!

I pounce, and clamp my mouth around his glans, clamping my lips tightly so that he has no escape.  I can feel his cum building up in his locked shaft, swelling even more. Tom's body arches and stiffens and a little 'Urgh' slips out in agony, before the ecstasy as I release my grip. Tom erupts like a massive hot geyser blasting his love-juice against the back of my throat. I gulp down the first mouthful. He keeps coming for what seems like ages, but probably only 5-10 seconds. My mouth is full again and his cum is running out the corners down his shaft. As his orgasm subsides, I swirl his load around in my mouth, savouring the taste and texture - not unlike molluscs sauteed in salted butter and cream - just my favourite, although an acquired taste. As I swallow my second mouthful, I lick up and down and round and round his cock, licking up every last drop.

As his deflating cock subsides, I come up his body and we embrace and share a fantastic, salty, Deep French Kiss.

Tom tells me it is the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

Now that's the way to Break Fast!"

Breakfast With Benefits

I have previously written about how I came to be seeing T privately in "Client or Buddy?".  On this occasion, I had arranged a morning/breakfast visit. I left home at 7:10am as if going to work, then diverted down the Peninsula Freeway, arriving around 8:30am, having stopped along the way for orange juice  and croissants, and to message my boss to say I had a 'family situation' and wouldn't be in until lunch time.

I am welcomed by T in her black nightie with a very big hug and kisses.  In the kitchen,  we arrange my flowers in a vase, then I send T back to bed whilst I pour orange juice and warm up our croissants.  T is sitting up in bed with a big smile, still in her nightie, when I come in with breakfast.  Now there is something very special about slipping into the bed where your lady has just spent the night and to slide under the covers (compared to the barren bed of parlours).

We manage to drink half our juice and eat most of our croissants between kisses and  cuddles.  We have a brief discussion about going "au naturalle" last time - T is very  apologetic, to which I tell her not to apologise, since it was obvious we both wanted it, nay ‘needed’ it and enjoyed it.  But we agree that it might be best if we do try to contain ourselves to 'safe sex'.

T is quite playful this morning as we slide down for some serious kissing and cuddling.  I help her pull her nightie up over her head.  We are all body and hands and kissing now.  My hand is rubbing her knicker covered crotch and I ask "Where are the  crotchless knickers you told me about?".  She responds with giggle. As I help slide her knickers off, she says, "Wait a minute, I've got a present from the girls (when she left the parlour)".  She jumps out of bed with a giggle, gets something out of her dresser  drawer and runs starkers into the lounge room. "No peeking" she calls.  I hear more  giggling and comments like "What goes into this hole?" and "How do I get this on?".

Eventually she sidles back into the bedroom wearing a black, crotchless, fish-net body  stocking, swaying her hips and giving me a little show. Her magnificent 38DDs strain  under the plunging neck-line and her hot red nipples poke through the netting like  traffic lights.

Then its back into bed and into a clinch.  There is much rolling around, cuddles, and hands all over each other and kissing up and down. Finally, under Thomas-the-Tongue's ministrations, with a huge arch of her back and an "AAAGHHH",  T comes to a shuddering climax.

I come up her body and pull the stocking off her breasts for some more licking, sucking  and kissing.  I find the stocking a bit rough on our skin, so I help her slide it off and  we enjoy the warm smoothness of our nakedness as she kicks it off her feet.

Remembering our earlier discussion, I roll on a rubber, I lie over her to embrace, kissing and cuddling and we again slide together, with no awkward fumbling.  We just "click" intellectually, emotionally and physically. T is still quite  horny and I am hard, and our coupling becomes passionately vigourous. We roll around for what seems like for ever - time stands still - but I suppose it must have been 30 minutes or more.  We are hot, sweaty and breathless, but I know my sensitivity is declining.  

We roll onto our sides and reluctantly de-couple.  T strips me bare and works her oral magic. But still, she can't bring me off, but she has the taste for more!  So she tries some handy-work, but that makes it worse for me.  I gently ask her to stop, show her that for me, a hand-job must be dry.  I show her my DIYHJ - she sits astride, watching and admiring.  She tells me how horny it makes her watching the straining muscles of a guy's arm and the thickening, reddening member.  She leans forward and licks the pre-cum.  T is watching intently.  She sees me tighten, now red hot and hard I feel like I am ready to burst.  "Its all yours!" I  say.  T pounces, sucking hard as I explode, savouring ever drop, swallowing twice.  I continue spasming for what seems like ages.  This is awesome.  T certainly knows how to please her man.   Wow!.

We lie back and cuddle and chat for a bit, then drift off in petit mort for perhaps 5-10 minutes. Then its reluctantly off to the shower and dress.  We settle in the lounge for a cup of chai tea and chat about T's upcoming trip. I leave my 'gift' on the table and head off to work about 11:30 - wow, what a fabulous 3 hours! What a way to start to day.  What better way to break fast!