Mr. Jones

‘Mum, I’m just fine. Really. Don’t worry about me. No, I’m having a great time. I’ll call you again at the weekend. I’ve got to go now. …No, really. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bye. Yes. …Yes, bye mum. Goodbye. …Mum, I’ve really got to go. Okay. Goodbye.’

Finally my mother hung up. I looked around for a clock, but couldn’t see one. My watch had been put away. I decided to assume that I didn’t have long, so made sure I looked right.

I got up off the silk sheets and walked over to the mirror to take a good look at myself. I was wearing a garter belt and stockings, in a luscious red colour that had been provided for me by the agency. I had some of my own, but these were far nicer. They were made of very sheer but soft material, I think some sort of silk, but not as shiny feeling as the sheets. The only other thing that covered me up at all was my long blonde hair, which I pulled away so that it fell down my back. I toyed with it for a little while, trying to decide whether to put it up or not, and then I heard a key at the door.

I rushed back to the bed and lay on my front, legs up behind me, resting on my elbows. Then I thought better of it, and quick moved round to rest against the headboard, my legs to one side, so that I looked fairly young and cute, but he could see a glimpse of my specially shaved pussy. I nibbled on a nail in mock anxiety.

The man opened the door and came into the room. I knew his name, it had been provided for me, though I hadn’t put it together with the man in front of me. I knew his name anyway, he was sometimes in the papers, and occasionally on chat shows and the like. He was usually quite funny. My dad, I pondered, kind of worked for him, or at least for one of his subsidiary companies. My dad often said how he had been screwed by him. In a little while I hoped to be able to say the same. For the sake of argument here I’ll call him Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones put down his briefcase and looked at me and smiled.

‘Hello’, he said. I mumbled hello back to him shyly. He asked if I was from the agency, and I said yes. Then I gave the password I had been given, to prove it wasn’t a set-up.

He smiled again, and asked my name.

‘Christine’, I said. He smiled again. He had a lovely smile. I decided his pictures hadn’t really done him justice. He was actually kind of handsome, up close. And he seemed a lot younger.

‘And how old are you, Christine?’

‘Seventeen’, I breathed. I was actually eighteen, but I had decided seventeen sounded better, don’t ask me why. Lying about my age already. And this was England, sixteen would have been legal.

‘You’re very beautiful, Christine’.

I giggled a little. ‘Thank you’.

He walked up to the bed and beckoned me over, and I shuffled over to him and got up on my knees. He put a hand gently to the back of my head and into my hair and kissed me. It was quite unexpected, and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t quite know what to do. His tongue felt it’s way around my mouth, not forcefully but thoroughly. I think I kind of sucked on it, and licked round it.

Mine was a very peculiar sex life, and this was only the second time I’d ever been kissed, though I’d literally lost count of the number of times I’d had sex. Kissing was nowhere as instinctive to me as I think it is with most.

Still, he seemed to be enjoying it. And I must admit, I was too. It was a lot more intimate, somehow, than all my other experiences. I put my arms around the back of his strong neck and crossed them, hanging on to my wrists.

After a couple of minutes he disengaged and took to kissing me on the lips less forcefully. Tentatively I leaned into him and kissed him back, pushing my own tongue forward this time. He responded in kind, and we kissed some more. Finally he disengaged altogether and let go, and reluctantly I did the same.

‘I’m feeling a little dirty’, he said, and my heart leapt. I couldn’t wait to find out exactly why I’d been engaged for the evening. To my slight disappointment he gestured toward the en-suite bathroom. ‘Would you begin running me a bath, my dear?’

I nodded, slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom, feeling his eyes at my back all the way. I tried to walk in the slinkiest way I could swaying as I walked, my ass cheeks gently sliding over each other. I turned to look at him at the door, and he was still watching me, with not a little trace of lust in his eyes. I smiled warmly at him, and then went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was huge. In my own hotel the bedroom wasn’t this big. The décor was marble tiles and slate floor, with gold fittings on everything. The bath was up a couple of steps, and then back down into a large round inset thing, with lots of holes in it for bubbles. It took me a few moments to work out how to run the bath, and then a little while to decide whether to put foam in. I had visions of bubbles everywhere, bubbling under the door into the corridor. I settled for a few salts, with a lovely strawberry and cinnamon smell, to be on the safe side.

I felt a hand on my back, and I turned round and we kissed again. He was naked, and his erect penis pushed up at my navel. He put his hand on my ass and moved his fingers into the crevice, stroking my anus tenderly. I moved my own hands down to his, and felt his hairy, muscular behind, then moved a hand round until I was cupping his scrotum, feeling it’s soft suede texture beneath my hand.

We stopped kissing and he reached around behind me and turned off the water. He tested the water with his hand, and turned on the cold tap briefly to reduce the temperature. ‘Why don’t you join me?’, He said.

I nodded and unfastened my garter and removed it, laying it on the floor. ‘Here, allow me’, he said. I sat on the cold marble steps and lifted up a leg, and he took the stocking and rolled it gently down my leg, stroking my leg with one hand as he went. When he reached the end he placed the stocking by the garter down on the floor, and then kissed my foot before placing that down on the floor as well. Then he moved to the other leg, and did the same.

When I was completely naked he stepped down into the warm bath, and sat down on its floor, the water up around his chest. There was a seat in the water behind him , and I took the hint and stepped down next to him, and sat down on the edge of the bath, easing myself down, my legs around him. He turned round and looked up at me quickly before putting his hands on my hips and pulling his face into my open cunt. I gasped and lay back a little, steadying myself with my arms out behind me.

His tongue was even more skilful in my clit than it had been in my mouth. He licked carefully all around the inside before setting up a rhythm against the roof of my vagina. I was crying out with each lap, high tones of genuine ecstasy. I came, and he swallowed voraciously before climbing up to sit beside me and give him a long, lingering kiss which I submitted to willingly, the taste of my own cum filling my senses.

I wanted to return the favour so I slipped down into the water to taste him. His cock wasn’t much bigger than average, maybe six inches, but it was very thick, and even I couldn’t get much of the huge head in my mouth. I made do with licking it and teasing it with my lips, but I could see that I wasn’t going to be able to complete anything that way.

I sat back up on the marble, lay back and opened my legs wide, tucking my feet under me and resting them on the edge of the bath, my vagina hanging open expectantly. He splashed around and entered my forcefully and began fucking me slowly, but I could see that the combination of the heat and my own orgasm and moisture had made me too open.

As gently as I could I pushed him away and lifted up my feet to rest on his shoulders, he still kneeling in the bath. I hoped that he didn’t have anything against this sort of thing. He didn’t. Without a moments hesitation he pushed his thick cock into my ass. The sensation was marvelous. To this day I have never come just from being fucked up the ass, but I always enjoy it, and have teetered on the brink oh-so-many times.

Mister Jones was enjoying it too. He was crying out with pleasure, and so was I. ‘Tell me you like it’ he said.

‘Oh, I do’, I answered truthfully. ‘I do, so much. Oh, god, yes. I love to feel your cock in my ass. Yes. Yes, fuck it.’ I reached down with a free hand and gripped my clit hard, so that each thrust banged into my hand, sending waves of pleasure up my body.

‘Oh, god, yes! I’m going to cum again! You’re making me cum!’ And I did, screaming with joy. Seconds later he gave out a yell and came too, a wave of cum filling my arse, and dripping down into the water, a joyous sensation that many are denied these days.

He collapsed down on top of me, and laughed. He kissed me on the lips, and then on the forehead. He eased himself out of me, and settled back down into the water. He reached for the shampoo. I had been dismissed.

I had been briefed. I picked up my sparse clothing, and went back into the bedroom. I picked up my bag, and removed my thin dress from it, and my sandals. Slipped them on, and left quietly.

‘Mister Jones is a busy man’, the note had said. ‘As soon as he is finished you will leave.’

The elevator was empty, and I reached under my dress to scrape a sliver of cum from sliding down my legs. It tasted sweet, a little like the cinnamon that the bathroom had smelt of.

I have done many things for money over the years, but leaving that room was one of the hardest.