It was difficult for high end escorts in London to care about client horror stories when said clients were so damn good in bed. Anita gasped and arched her hips against the pressure currently invading her, hands gripping hard at strong upper arms. The conservative clothing of the Prime Minister didn’t do his body any kind of justice; he was older, sure, but Anita had been quite impressed with how well-kept he seemed to keep himself. And she was quite sure she would have agreed to fuck him for free at one time or another, based on his performance.
Many stories flashed through Anita’s mind at random times, but she had never had the bad experiences other escorts from her agency seemed to have had with the Minister. Attitude problem. Too rough. Too rude in public settings. Maybe Anita didn’t mind a little attitude and roughness, and just didn’t notice that kind of behavior because of it. Either way, she was certain it all stopped mattering once he pushed himself inside of her and made her lose all thought.
“God,” Anita moaned, auburn hair splaying out on the thick pillow as she threw her head back against it when his fingers reached between them to press on her clitoris. She was absolutely soaked – he was one of the few that could manage that at all – and had been close to climax since the beginning of their little tryst. When his free hand left the mattress to grasp her leg and yank it higher up his side, she thought of all of the warnings about too rough, but the thought paired with the action only made her even more wet. Walls clenched in warning, but it wasn’t time yet; she didn’t finish until he did. That was the rule.
“Don’t you dare,” he rasped into her ear in warning, true to form. Instead of offering mercy, he quickened the pace of his thrusts, and Anita’s hands flew to his back to cling on for dear life, uncaring of whether her nails were doing any damage. She one those escorts in London who took orders well, and had learned to control her body’s reactions, but sometimes there just wasn’t a choice in the matter. She had only finished prematurely once, however: the consequences had been beautifully agonizing.
Perhaps there is a bit of sadism in there, Anita thought as she gripped around his waist with the leg he had hitched up his side. But he makes up for it with this part of our nights…
No matter what other escorts warned her about, Anita was hard pressed to believe that the Prime Minister was anything but charming and an absolute God in bed. To hell with what the others said; she was his perfect escort. Always dropping things at his beck and call to please him. She felt his thrusts get more erratic, felt her wet walls suck him in deeper, and she couldn’t take it anymore: as soon as she felt him throb inside of her, she let go herself, crying out into the dimly lit hotel suite as her orgasm moved through her trembling body. And he thrust into her all the way through it, drawing them both out, two moans blending together as they both collapsed onto the bed.
Oh, yes…she was his perfect escort in London. If only he could see it.