Call Back

     "You didn't think I would call, did you?"


     "Oh well, you know how men are. They say they'll call. I believe them. I wait by the phone. I cry a little..." I tease.

     
In all honesty I didn't think he'd call. Believing he'll call means believing what he says. I don't do that. He is the gentleman I posted about yesterday. He was waiting in the doorway for me when I arrived, despite the snow. Some men do this. I haven't really figured it out yet. Part of me thinks its a control thing. The other part thinks its an arrogance thing. They want to welcome me at the gate like a king in his castle.

     This guy was such an archetype of masculinity, ergo desperately needing his ego stroked. I can do that. That's why I get paid the big bucks. And big bucks he had. (I know this cause he told me several times.) I'll give him credit though. He did have a very large very well behaved dog. This dog was clearly the result if a German Shepard breeding with a teddy bear. 

     I suggest we ‘go into the other room’. Classic line I use when I want to get things moving along. He takes me into the bed room. 


     "This is the room we won't be using," he tells me.
     
"Oh?" I say, inviting more conversation. 


     "Yes. We will be going downstairs. This is my winter bedroom."

     
Hold. Back. The. Eye roll!!!

     
"Do you play hockey?" I ask, acknowledging the large bags under his desk. They didn't look like hockey bags but they were huge. What I was really thinking is that one could fit a body in there. 


     "No, I do security training as well as security for oil execs overseas.”

     “Oh so there is a body in there then,” I say referring to those punching dummies.

      “Ha ha ha, no. Actually…” He pulls out the bag and flips the top open. “What else am I supposed to do with military training?”

     “Is that a machete?” I exclaim, looking at a long handled sheathed item half buried in the bag.

     “No, it’s a tommy hawk!” He says pulling it out.

     “Ah. Yes, I keep my tommy hawk beside my bed too.”

     “And that’s my battle axe,” He points out as he ushers me downstairs.

     “Does she have a name?” I chide. He’s already told me about his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend who recently moved out.

     “Ha ha, what? Oh, no.”

     We go into the other room and as usual one thing leads to another. He’s already paid for GFE and his hands reach between my legs. I don’t even get a chance to reach for my lube before I realize this man knows how to touch a woman properly. Where most men go straight for the clit, rubbing hard away at the poor little dry thing, he starts with gentle pressure up and down along my outer labia, and against the cress between my thigh and groin. He lets me warm up to him. He moves slowly. I let go and let him. I let go of pretenses’, and enthusiastic breathing. I just let go. He starts to go down on me, and never before has it ever felt so good. I’m gone. I fight the orgasm. I don’t want this to ever end. He pulls away after twenty minutes, then enters me. In the missionary position I hold him firm against me and rock my lower half hard into him until he quivers and tumbles on to me. Once he recovers he continues to pleasure me. It felt like it went on for ever. I was there for a total of two hours, with most of the attention spent on my pleasure. My orgasm, when it finally came shook me to the core. He was completely responsive to my bodies every request. My mind had checked out.

     Did I think he would call me back? I didn’t think about it at all. I felt that I’d been selfish, and wouldn’t be so lucky for round two. I had put any hopes of seeing him again out of my mind. My libido hadn’t forgotten though, and in my spare time this afternoon I decided to check out this new porn site Owen had told me about, makelovenotporn.tv. It’s about real couples making real porn. We had talked about doing something like that ourselves. However, as we are living far away from each other, it will have to wait for now. Watching it reminded me of him and I. It’s getting hard to be apart. We aren’t skyping as much as we used to, we aren’t joking around like we used to, and I can’t seem to connect with him sexually any more. I climaxed watching the video, but as I did, I felt my heart tear a little.

    Seeing the client again this evening was not a let down. Physically it was just as good, but I couldn’t get my head in the game. My mind kept wandering to my first time with Owen. Then to all the times after that where intimacy was denied. I find that men and women seem to be fundamentally different when it comes to offering sex. Men just throw it out there all the time, at every opportunity, and they seem to just bounce back from rejection as it is expected. I do not feel shy about requesting sex from my partners, but when it is denied, for whatever reason it cuts me. When my libido out matched Owens when we were together, I struggled not to take it personally, and when my requests for skype sex, cock shots, sexy stories, or anything that can connect us over this distance is brushed off, it hurts. It’s been hurting. The orgasm hit like a tsunami and I lost control. A massive sob escaped my lips, and before I was able to get it together, another one followed suit. I swallowed, shuddered and buried my face in the mattress as this stranger gently kissed my thighs, back and shoulders.

    “Control yourself,” My brain demands, “This is not acceptable, he is not your friend, and he does not want to hear about it.”

    “You ok?” the client asks.

    “Yeah… that was just really intense,” I say, trying to laugh it off. I don’t think for a second he actually cares.

     Game Face Realme. Game Face.