(I was recently doing some carpentry work at an escort agency. As I was retiling a floor in one of the attendant's rooms, I came across a diary of sorts. It was twenty pages long, but seeing as how I was on lunch and getting bored, I decided to read it. It was the true story of an escort who loved her work as a hand job specialist. I made a photo copy of it at the desk so that I could share it with you. Enjoy!!!!!)
"Just one more," Harold said, acting as though it were nothing he was asking of me.
I sighed. Everything with that damn Harold was 'just one more.'
Well fuck him! I had plans.
"I'm going home to have a warm bath," I informed him sternly. "Then I'm pouring myself a good stiff drink and hopping into bed. Then I'm going to curl up with a good book. I must have seen at least a dozen men today!"
"Only seven," he spat back, showing his true colors as a damn bean counter. He then frowned, and gave me his 'you must feel guilty for turning me down' look.
"Yeah, well whether twelve or seven, I told you when I started that I don't want to jerk off more than four men a day. It's been over two years now and I've never had less than six. I also told you I wanted part time work only, three days per week. I've been working five days since I started."
I got up, grabbed my purse out of the corner, and began to stride wearily for the large stained glass double doors that housed the sacred inner sanctum of the city's top sensual spa. With a catalogue of over fifty super-hot looking women, and a reputation for satisfying every desire and every fetish, the spa really was the last word in where men could experience a heart stopping orgasm with their fantasy dream girl.
And it was all perfectly legal of course. All the girls had to remember was to remind men that the envelopes stuffed with cash were simply a 'donation' for 'time spent with them' and not payment for sexual services rendered. Until the courts decided to redefine the issue, and broaden the scope of the word prostitution, then escort services like 'Angels At Your Service' would continue to flourish and rake in the big bucks.
All the girls at the spa made the same per customer, and that was exactly two thirds of the take, if it was at the spa, or half of the take if it was at a client's home.
Men paid a hundred and twenty for half an hour, and two and twenty for a full hour, reasonable by escort standards, especially since all of us women here had supermodel looks, and seductive skills that could cause steam to percolate out of any man's ears. Girls at the spa tended to specialize. Some would give body to body Nuru massages. Others would engage in BDSM. Other's still offered heart stopping blow jobs or straight humping. Some girls offered to perform a little of each to occupy a man's valuable time.
There were six black women, twelve Asians and thirty-two whites among the fifty women in the spa's spectacular catalogue. Most were slim, curvy, big breasted and simply drop dead gorgeous. I was black, but I was also one of the five full figured women on staff. We five had a lot of extra weight, but it was all in the right places. Some men had a real fetish for full figured women. The ones that loved full figured black ones, would always ask for me.
I didn't mind doing anything a guy would ask me to do, although I was known as the hand job girl. I specialized in keeping a man's cock super hard and super attentive to my skillful fingers. Sometimes I would include my firm black boobs in working on a man's cock. Sometimes I would even tantalize the tip of his erection with a brush of my pretty painted lips or a lick from my sensual tongue. In the end, no matter how good guys were at holding out, they would always succumb to my amazing talents at forcing an orgasm precisely at that moment when their paid for time was about to expire. Some of the men were generous, and left tips. Tips were something that a girl got to keep all for herself, and so the more wealthy guys were always fought over fiercely. I had an advantage in that guys desiring hand jobs or full figured black women, were always sent to me. Still, being the only hand job specialist and the only big black chick did have its downside. It meant that I was expected to take any and all sessions, and not go home till the last guy was serviced. I did get weekends off, but that was only because Holly, a very pretty, big breasted and equally large black college student, was trying to put herself through med school and so would gladly work Saturdays and Sundays as the resident oversized hand job girl.
"You walk through that door without attending to the last guy and I'm telling Thelma."
I stopped dead in my tracks over his threat. Everyone knew that Thelma was the real owner of 'Angels at Your Service.' We also knew that she was really anal and maniacal about turning men away. Competition among the spas was fierce and extremely competitive. We weren't the only super-hot women in town, and giant, firm boobs, pretty painted mouths, and succulent mouth-watering bum cheeks were only good if you were going to actually use them.
I sighed at his veiled but ominous threat. I averaged seven hundred a day plus tips. All cash. At five days that meant I generally cleared four grand a week. There were other hot looking black babes out there with fingertips, lips and boobs just as sexy and skilled as mine. If Thelma did decide I couldn't handle all the full figured hand job trade by myself, then she was bound to hire a second girl, and a second girl would cut my salary in half.
"Fine, I'll take him," I blurted out. "Just give me two minutes to get freshened up."
I passed under the hot water shower for about a minute, rinsing off any sticky cum off my hands and arms from the last couple of guys. They had been real volatile shooters, with one of them plastering my boobs as well.
I pat dried quickly, then took some mouthwash, not wanting my breath to smell immediately of cock, then I refreshed the glossy pink sheen on my succulent thick black lips.
Next I fluffed my hair, and sprayed on a little perfume.
Finally, I poured some lube on my hands and rubbed it onto my boobs, ass and hands. Saving time would mean I could leave all the earlier.
Guys wanting hand jobs usually asked for the full hour, especially those that had been with me before. They knew I would give them a wicked mind blowing tease. What would normally only take their own hands five minutes to achieve, I was easily able to stretch into an hour of absolutely mind blowing paradise. An orgasm from my hands was ten times as sweet and intense as an orgasm from their own hands.
When it came to a client's appearance, I was used to seeing a wide range of men. Usually the men were older but sometimes you got some young ones mixed in there too. Some were fat like me, and some were ugly. But about half of them were actually good looking. Some were so good looking in fact, that it used to stun me they thought they had to pay for it. But then my fellow escorts would remind me that a lot of the men we serviced were actually married. Some were engaged. Some also had psychological issues where they mistakenly had a low opinion of themselves. What it all meant, was that we were providing, in some cases, an essential service.
I checked the wall clock. I had never been this late before. I sighed.
I decided right there and then that I would force him, whoever he was, to reach orgasm a half hour earlier, but keep his whole hour's worth of money. All the men were told upfront that the spa wasn't responsible to refund money if a guy happened to reach climax before his time was up, and if he couldn't get hard again.
My pretty long painted nails began to do the rap-tappity-tap off the table. I was getting impatient. Just where the hell was this guy? But then it dawned on me that perhaps he was still taking off his clothes and taking his time in folding them neatly. Although I wondered how long it would take a horny man to strip down if he knew a gorgeous black babe like myself was just dying to get my soft, skilful hands onto his large hard cock. That is, if it was indeed gonna be a large hard one.
I much preferred guys with larger cocks. They really turned me on, and the harder they were, was the easier they were to tease with my nipples, tongue, fingers, ass, and hands. Sometimes, if the guy had a foot fetish, I would even use my toes and feet to help supplement my all inclusive jerking.
Finally he showed up, and when he did, he took my breath away. He was a very tall, very muscular, very handsome white guy, and very well endowed. He had let the towel slip off him halfway into the room, and his foot long meaty white pole made me absolutely burn with lust at the sight of it. This is one guy that I absolutely would have done for free, he was just that damn good looking and sexy.
His rippling abs made my mouth water and his round, curvy bum was so fabulous I almost passed out from the sheer exquisite sight of it. He was a lot hotter than any damn mag cover male model I'd ever seen. I really had to wonder why a guy like that was paying for anything. If anyone was getting paid to fuck, it should be him.
"How do you want me?"
His words just kind of sailed off my back. I was so fucking mesmerized by his stunning looks that I processed his question too slowly. He asked it again.
"On my back, or on my stomach."
"Definitely on your back," I whispered in awe, anxious to keep my horny eyes glued to his amazing rippling abs.
I poured out more lube onto my hands then rubbed them together as he lay down.
