After Hours!

To be fair, I hadn’t broken any rules. She had crossed the bar to come and talk to me. Why she was in that particular bar, at that particular time, was beyond me. After all, I was legally obliged to not even acknowledge her at first.

She was a customer at my place of work; an adult shop. In the past two months, she had spent easily a few grand on toys. As is my personality, and a job requirement, I had made no judgements. More than anything, I had been concerned that I was selling her toys that weren’t doing the trick. But yet she kept coming back to the store.

At the bar, after she had introduced herself as Michelle, none of our conversations at work were brought up. I can barely remember what we spoke of that night, in detail, except that we connected. We whined about exes, spoke of possible futures and dreams. She told me about her two children that she was raising alone, their ages seemed far beyond comprehension with how she looked. Gorgeous, blond, Instagramably curvy.

I remembered on her visits to the store the way she would linger at the counter after her purchases and how we chatted. And I certainly remembered that, without agenda, I had mentioned where I relax after work with a drink. In the back of my mind, some part of me kept reminding me of that moment. Was that why she was there that night?

Michelle was being text-book flirty that night; laughing at my stupid jokes, regularly touching my shoulder, my thigh. I palmed it off to that time of night, because we’re all flirty by then, right up until she asked what I was going to cook her for breakfast.

She took my hand as we walked back to her flat, stealing an occasional kiss that made me feel like a teenager all over again. Historically when I go home with someone that finds out where I work, shit gets kinky real quick.

But not with Michelle. None of those toys came out to play. Not the under-bed restraints. Not the Njoy Pjur Wand she told me had made her squirt, nor the Doxy Number Three wand. Not even the WeVibe Sync she bought in a pack with a Womanizer Premium. It was the most vanilla sex I’d had in a long time.

And it was amazing. Our clothes came off slowly as our lips devoured each other. Explorative hands lingered and stroked, lips followed shortly thereafter, or were entangled within each others. Her pussy was like salted French fries; I couldn’t get enough. I engorged myself like she was a free for all smorgasboard. The folds of her vulva were delicious parentheses to sucking on her clit.

Oral sex was not some demanded reciprocal act, she noursished herself on my cock like a trooper. She sucked hard on my shaft, but progressed to tracing her tongue along my shaft, my balls, my perineum. Mindfulness makes sex so much more enjoyable, but I had to take myself out of the moment lest our evening ended with me exploding in her mouth.

The addition of some Super Slyde lube helped me ease into her pussy. Or more accurately, helped her to slide down onto my shaft. She knew what she wanted, and sure wasn’t afraid to tell me that going cowgirl was guaranteed to get her off. She was right. Within two minutes, she was waking the neighbours as she revelled in an explosive orgasm, before resting her shuddering body on top of mine.

But then things took a very different vibe. She rolled onto her side, with me still inside her, and we just gently rocked back and forth. Our lips were either locked or our foreheads pressed together, gazing into each others eyes. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, her fingers combing through my hair as I cradled her hips, my fingers running along her back. With our rhythm slow, I was hyper aware of each and every movement. Enough so I could even differentiate between the silicone lube and her natural juice.

The muscles of her pelvic floor gripped me like a fist, her words egged me on to come inside her. How she craved it. But I took my time. I couldn’t conjure a memory that felt as good as that moment, and I certainly didn’t want it to end any time soon. Beneath my fingertips, her skin was silky, welcoming.

For some reason I was drawn to her ear as I came. My breath heavy and laboured, my words boringly explaining that I was coming. Her enthusiasm to these remarks only drew me in further, her cunt draining every last drop of me. Even when there was nothing left to give, I still moved gently inside her, relishing every sensation, her dripping labia entangled around my cock, her short sharp kisses on my upper lip.

When I awoke at the breaking dawn, she was no longer lying beside me. My hands clung to the pillow, wondering if I had merely dreamt the whole night. But then I heard her. At the end of the bed, sitting upright, her slender legs slung over the end. She was crying. I lifted myself from the sheets and wrapped my arms around her waist.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Michelle finally let out.

‘What for?’

Her breath revealed she had more to say, but her silence had me concerned. Was she married? Had she farted? Had she been buying toys online?

‘I have to tell you something. And I understand if you hate me when I tell you, I’ll even understand that it will probably make you angry. But I have to tell you.’

She had my attention.

‘I really like you,’ she segwayed. ‘Like, a lot more than I thought I would. More than I should.’

‘I like you too,’ I admitted, my throat coarse, awaiting the bombshell she was about to drop. ‘A lot.’

Michelle shifted her body until her brown eyes held mine. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but not a single one that I could put my finger on. There was fear, but I didn’t know if it was for her or me. ‘I’m an escort,’ she finally said.

I watched her as she tried to read my response. A million thoughts raced through my mind as I held her gaze. Escorts, or as we refer to them in my industry, ‘working girls’, were our bread and butter. I’d helped many over my time working in the shop, suggesting a range of items to help them get through a twelve hour booking. Lingerie, bullets, wands, throat spray, sponges.

I pushed my brain chatter aside and finally, I simply said, ‘I wish you had told me sooner.’

Michelle could barely hold my gaze. It was clear to me she had no idea how I would react, or what I was to say next.

‘Because working girls get a discount in the shop,’ I added. She raised her head, holding back tears as her gorgeous smile returned to her face.

‘You don’t hate me?’

‘Are you kidding? Piecing together our conversations, with this knowledge, I am awed by you.’

I wanted to say more, but she threw her arms around me, held me so tight I thought I’d have to tap out of a choke. I could taste the salt of her tears when she kissed me, my hands tried their best to reassure her of my feelings.

Round two was nothing like the first. It was somehow more impassioned, my hand couldn’t leave the soft skin of her face. Even my finger managed its way into our kisses. With my mouth, my fingertips, my palms, my cock, I tried to express my heart as fully as I could.

That amazing night we had was a year ago yesterday, and I’m thankful for every night we’ve shared since.

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