The Girls of Club Aphrodite

I made a deal to treat myself to sex every two months, but a week after the fuck with Sabrina, I was checking the Club Aphrodite website daily. I wanted to get an idea of her schedule. I suppose I could have booked her, but my experience with Fatima discouraged me. Booking a girl had set up huge expectations which I reckoned was part of the reason it ended up being disappointing, while with Sabrina, I'd just shown up and had the top of my head blown off. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Whenever I saw her name as 'Working Today', which wasn't often, I spent the day thinking about how stupendous, horny sex was only a bike ride away.

After three weeks, I couldn't wait anymore. The club was open from eleven a.m. to eleven p.m. and, just after lunch, I called to make sure Sabrina was there. The hostess said yes and soon I was standing before the blacked-out front door ringing the bell.

The hostess showed me into one of the private rooms and greeted me with the news that Sabrina was now busy with another client. I was not happy. The hostess apologised and explained that men often called and then did not show up, so girls were reluctant to turn down a client who arrives at the door. She added that there were still three lovely girls upstairs and when I said I wasn't interested, she said: 'Why don't you just meet them? If none of them appeal to you, you can always come back later.'

I still wasn't keen, but it was a reasonable request. Besides, it was always enlightening to meet the real girls after seeing their posed, airbrushed photos on the website. Fatima had looked better in life than in her photos, but with most girls it was the other way around. Not that they were ever ugly -- not at all. But all the photos showed sexy girls confidently showing off their bodies, yet when they walked into the room to shake my hand, that confidence was rarely there in person.

The first two girls who came in gave me exactly that feeling -- nice-looking girls, but awkward and hesitant. The third girl, however, was a looker and she walked like she knew it. She was of medium height with long black hair and smooth, tanned skin, wearing a simple black slip which showed off the curves of a truly lovely body -- full, round breasts, nice bottom and thighs, feminine hands with short trimmed nails, and feet with rounded toes. Her handshake was firm, and she looked me in the eye as she introduced herself as Lydia. Indeed, she was so good-looking, it made me wonder why the previous client had chosen Sabrina. 'Probably the same reason you would have,' said my inner voice. I told the hostess I would like an hour with Lydia and paid by debit card.

A minute or so later, Lydia walked back in carrying my glass of water, along with a couple of towels and a vanity case. She handed me the water.

'Thank you,' I said.

'I need you to wash,' she responded, gesturing towards the sink.

'Oh, right.'

I undressed and went to the sink to wash my hands and genitals. I had actually taken a shower beforehand, but it was always better to wash in a girl's presence. Meanwhile, Lydia had stripped off and was laying out condoms and lubricant from her vanity case. She really had a fantastic body, with round bum cheeks and flawless skin. There was a tattoo on her back, a small bird of some kind with its wings open.

'What kind of bird is that?' I asked.

'Is tattoo,' said Lydia in a flat voice.

Her tone discouraged further questions. Maybe her English wasn't that good; her accent was perhaps Turkish. Or maybe she disliked me and wished I hadn't picked her. I knew that if I looked like her, I wouldn't want to have sex with me. I considered calling the whole thing off.

Lydia turned to me and said: 'Do you want to start with massage?'

'Sure,' I said.

She gestured towards the bed and I went to lie down on my front. Lydia knelt next to me, squirted oil onto her hands and began the massage. It was feeble, worse than one of those coin-operated massage chairs. I began to wonder whether the girl actually found me repulsive. 'Of course she does!' said the inner voice helpfully. I closed my eyes and tried to push the thought away.

Lydia continued the back massage for maybe ten minutes. Then she got me to turn over and did my arms and chest, working her way down. Finally, when she got to my cock, things started to happen. I watched my cock grow hard with a few moments of attention and I mentally tipped my hat to it. I looked at Lydia who knelt naked beside me. Her round, well-proportioned breasts held firm even though she was leaning forward and I was dying to put my hand on the curving flesh of her thigh and buttock.

'Can I touch you?' I said.

'You can touch body and breasts,' said Lydia in her monotone. 'But not pussy. That's extra.'

'All right,' I said. 'But is it

okay?'

Lydia paused in her work.

'What do you mean?' she said.

'Look,' I said. 'What I suppose I'm trying to say is: If you don't want me to touch you, I won't.'

'But I have said: You can touch body and breasts, but not pussy.'

I frowned, wondering if she genuinely didn't understand or was being obtuse. Maybe she dislikes me so much, she doesn't even want to discuss it. Lying there looking at her, I had the thought that conversation is itself a form of intercourse, something which creates a connection. To meet an unknown woman, both of you knowing you were there to have sex, was an awkward situation at best and having a conversation did a lot to dispel it. But, now and then, I'd meet a girl who didn't want to talk; who gave me the feeling that she just wanted the sex over and done with. Which I understood, of course, but it was not a good feeling. I looked at Lydia and wondered again if I should end this.

But then she resumed massaging my cock, and it felt too damn good to stop. Besides, I thought, I paid for this! Why do this kind of work if you hate it so much? I reached out and put a hand on Lydia's bare thigh.

'You want blowjob?' she said.

'Okay.'

I took the hand away as she reached for tissues to clean up the oil. Once done, she reached for a condom. I watched her. Part of me marvelled at her physical beauty, while another part took in her lack of emotion, like a nurse tending to a patient. 'What did you expect?' said the inner voice, and I had no argument there. I started paying for sex because I wanted to experience what it was like to have sex with hot girls, yet here I was, about to have sex with a girl who was most definitely hot, and I was feeling nothing. I wanted her to like me. Or, at least, to not dislike me. 'Don't flatter yourself,' said the inner voice. 'You're not important enough for a girl to dislike. By the end of the day, she'll have forgotten what you even look like.'

Lydia was sucking my cock by this time. My hand was stroking her buttocks. Despite the mental noise, my body was still responding, although an orgasm felt a long way off. Having my cock in her mouth was pleasant, but the hand-job was better. She stopped and looked at me.

'You want fuck?' she said.

'Sure.'

She gave a nod of assent and added more lubricant to my condom-covered cock. Then she straddled me and carefully lowered herself onto me. I saw her shaved pussy for the first time, saw my cock press against the folds of her perfect labia lips. The lips parted and I watched fascinated as my cock slowly disappeared inside the vagina of perhaps the best-looking woman I'd ever done this with. Outside of this room, she wouldn't have given me the time of day, but through the miracle of prostitution, my cock was now all the way inside her. 'So this is what it's like to be an alpha male,' I thought. Lydia began to fuck me.

It was awful.

I stared at the woman in disbelief. All the visuals—her body, her breasts, the sight of her pussy with my cock in it—should have been wildly sexual. But the way she wiggled or rubbed or whatever-the-hell she was doing was totally the opposite. 'Has this girl

ever

done this before?' asked the inner voice in a rare moment of solidarity. If Lydia wanted the sex over and done with, this was not the way to do it. After less than a minute, I put my hands on her hips to stop her.

'What is problem?' she said, her tone impatient.

'This, um ... isn't working for me,' I said.

'You want to go on top?'

'Sure.'

Lydia climbed off and I moved so she could lie back on the bed. She laid her head on the pillow, squirted more lubricant on her hand and opened her legs. As I positioned myself, she gave my cock another layer, then guided me inside her. I pushed my cock into her vagina and hit my head on the headboard of the bed.

'Ouch.'

I smiled awkwardly and blinked. This was becoming farce. Lydia didn't move and her expression didn't change. Everything about her said: 'Just get on with it, will you?' But fucking her meant twisting my head at an angle, and I was annoyed, partly at Lydia but mostly at myself. 'Why are you being such a pussy?' said the inner voice. 'If you're gonna fuck this girl, then stop messing around and fuck her!'

I grabbed Lydia bodily and pulled her downwards, off the pillow and away from the headboard. The moment I set her down, I pushed my cock full into her.

'Aah!' she cried.

It was the first real sound to come out of her and it turned me on. By pressing my feet against the wooden foot of the bed, I could fuck her deep and that's exactly what I did. I felt her gasp as she was penetrated, her hands holding tight to my arms. Lydia's disdain suddenly made me want to come inside her, to make her pregnant. I imagined the condom breaking, my cock tearing through the rubber at the moment of climax, pumping seed into her body and putting a baby into this juicy, luscious girl who despised me. Suddenly I was there, balls tightening, the orgasm two seconds away. I pushed in deep and came, sperm pulsing through my cock, body jerking, groans deep and triumphant, as Lydia gripped my arms and held her feet in the air. For the first time in my life, I didn't give a damn what the woman thought, and it felt way better than it should have.