My year as an escort, and the time my best friend was a customer [FM] – Part 2

We were working on our stories for a class together. Mine was a time traveling dystopian romance, an unsuprising choice for a college freshman. I was snuggled in a blanket on the couch, lethargically typing a line, deleting it, and typing it again, trying desperately to brute force my way past the writer’s block I’d had for the last hour. Ben was huddled at his desk, fingers click-clacking away with vigor, like the pages of his story were already etched in his brain, and his only task was to put them to print.

I snuck a glance over at him, shoulders hunched over his laptop, his black cashmere coat and turquoise silk scarf hanging on the edge of his chair. His lanky build fit snugly into his gray wool sweater, and every so often his long, curly bangs would creep its way into his eyes, and he would impatiently sweep it to the side with his hand. As if the only thing that mattered were the words in his head, and everything else was just a nuisance to be brushed aside.

I tossed a pencil at him. I missed. He looked up at me, a flash of annoyance in his piercing blue eyes, which immediately softened as he saw me smiling sweetly at him.

“Yea.” He said, running his hair through his bangs once more and sitting up straight. “What’s up?”

“You’re a man whose body stays young, but mind decays over time.” I said, pointing to him. “I’m the woman you’re madly in love with – a time traveler. Due to circumstances in our story, I have to bid you farewell and travel 60 years to the future, where we’ll be reunited. You’ll be physically the same, but your mind will be old and possibly have Parkinson’s and whatnot.” I get up, and waddle over to him while trying to keep my blanket’s warmth entrapped inside. “What do you say to me before I part?” I hold out my hand to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he takes it. His hands are shockingly warm, considering the circumstances. I feel a faint tingling sensation that runs through my body, as his oceanic eyes stay locked with mine.

He seems to consider it for a while.

“I’ll miss you. I won’t be the same, but our love will.” I said, trying to give him inspiration. “That’s the best I’ve got so far. Or – I will love you still, if it’s the last thing I can do. Or -”

“When we meet again, I will be old. I may forget your name, and I may forget your face.” He said, simply. “But I will never forget how you made me feel.” His hand lingered on mine briefly, and in that moment I felt like the protagonist of my story, her heart swept away by a simple but heartfelt confession from a man that I’d stolen glances toward for years.

*******

He stood in the doorway in front of me, and I glimpsed the black cashmere coat hanging on the hotel room’s chair, and his green silk scarf folded neatly over it. He stood just a tad taller than me, messy hair dripping from the warm spring rain.

“What is this?” He whispered. “Are you having a laugh?” He steps outside the room and glances down the hallway. “Someone set you up for this?”

I was still reeling from the shock. The face in front of me was his, but I wasn’t sure if was the same person – the same Ben I knew. Ben, my best friend, the seclusive writer who had made it nine months into his relationship with Isabelle. Ben, who often wrote about whores in his essays and short stories, but certainly never mentioned partaking in them. That’s the term he always wrote down. Whores. My subconscious brain raced ahead of my conscious, and I slapped him.

“What are you doing, you fucking jerk!” I screamed at him. “What about Isabelle? Why are you doing this?” I tried to shove him, to little avail. I wasn’t very strong, and he didn’t budge. Instead, he continued to stare at me, the look in his piercing blue eyes still caught in the transition from horror, to confusion, to concern.

“I was going to ask you the same.” He said, looking me up and down. “It is you. The yoga pants. Just what I asked for.” He leaned in close, and I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. “Why are you whoring, Selene?”

“Escorting.” I replied firmly. “But I’m asking the questions.” To mirror him and show him I wasn’t backing down, I leaned in closer, too. A little too close, and our lips touched briefly. A little spark ran through my body, and I knew should I have pulled away. But I didn’t. Instead, my arms seemed to move of their own free will, gently wrapping around his torso. Like before, I felt a stirring below the belt, as his manhood began to awaken and push against my pants. Instinctively, my eyes closed, and our lips began to part, our hot breath mingled together.

Then he pulled away.

“Hold on.” He said. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “This isn’t what I expected. Or wanted. I’m sorry.” He looked me over. “You look good.” He said finally. I stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Are you fucking serious?” I punch him. Not as hard as I could, but just hard enough. “You think I look good now? You haven’t even seen what’s under this coat.” I winked at him. Inside the coat I was wearing a black lace night gown that was totally see through. Beneath the yoga pants, there was nothing.

He scratched his head, and sighed. “Guess I won’t be getting any answers if I don’t go first.” He said, defeated, and opened the door, beckoning me to come in. “I’m still mad, by the way” I said as I passed by him, and plopped down on the bed, staring at the slowly rotating fan.

I heard the door close, and his footsteps approaching. I wondered how I would respond if he were to pin me down right there, pull down my pants, and enter me without warning. His husky voice grunting with pleasure as he took me any way that he pleased, one hand over my mouth and the other running down the length of my body.

“It began a few months ago.” He started, snapping me back to the ceiling fan. “Isabelle and I got into a few fights. Nothing serious at first, but they escalated. She accused me of being distant, more enraptured by own thoughts than what she had to say.”

I looked over at him. “And then you denied it poorly, pissing her off?” I mused. He shook his head. “I didn’t deny it. Our relationship was built on… foundations that were primarily physical.” He gave me a pointed glance. “You knew that.”

“Yes, the whipped cream.” I replied.

“The cream, the honey, the jalapenos. So on so forth.” He admitted.

“Hang on. The jalapenos?” I stood up.

“It was experimental. Don’t get too hung up on it.” He quickly deflected. “That’s not the point of the story.”

“I’m leaving, Ben.” I said, and began jokingly walking towards the door.

“No. Selene, please.” He responded, and grabbed my arm. In his voice, there was a touch of vulnerability, of a need for someone to listen that stopped me in my tracks. He softened his grip. “Please stay.”

I turned towards him, and touched his arm tenderly. “Okay.” I murmured, taken aback by his change in tone. “What happened next?”

He sighed, and sat down on the bed. “We withdrew from each other, becoming more and more distant. I still loved her, but it was like there was a chasm had split the apartment floor between our desks. She had only eyes for her music, and same with me for my writing. All I ever saw of her were in the glances I cast her way when she wasn’t looking.”

I rubbed his shoulder. His eyes were glistening with tears. When they first began dating, I remember I’d never seen him so estatic about a girl before. For many months, he’d genuinely believed that Isabelle was the “one”. As I reflect on their relationship now, I think he was mainly excited about the sex, and the mix of that with youthful ignorance and bliss was a concotion for his jumping to conclusions about the girl. If there was a transcript of their conversatins, you’d find half of it filled with grunts and moans, and the other half her listening to him ramble about some author. No real back and forth, or real chemistry of any kind.

“Are you still together then?” I asked, treading gingerly. “We’re taking a break.” He replied. Cliche as it may sound, my heart seemed to skip a beat in that moment.

He turned to me. “That’s why I’m here.” He said, as his face drew closer to mine, and with each inch the gap closed, my heart beat faster. “I wanted to test once and for all if she was the one for me or not, without word getting around. This was all I could think of.” He seemed pensive for a moment, then his eyes traced downwards to the glimpse of cleavage revealed by my parted coat. “Those pictures… were they really you?”

It took me until that moment to realize that Ben had seen the naked pictures of me on the webpage. A black bar blocking out my eyes, my boobs pressed against the glass, the hot steam rising up behind me, my tongue stuck out seductively. Oh god.

“Nah.” I replied. “Just some girl on the internet that was my height.” He frowned. “Really? Where did you find it? I tried reverse google image searching, nothing came up.”

Reverse google image searching? What the hell was that? A picture of Ben holding the laptop upside down while trying to type in Google’s searchbar came to mind.

“Anyways, I’m shocked you’re into this now.” He leaned even closer. “Is it the money?”

Here comes the conversation. Ben was a sweet guy. He genuinely cared about his friends, and he had stuck his neck out for me more than once. Driven 30 miles to pick me up from a Tinder date gone very wrong, helped talk me down from blowing up at my parents, you name it. He would never be happy to see me fucking random guys for cash.

“Yea, it is.” I replied. “I need to finish school, Ben. It’s all that’s pushing me forward now. I just need to save up until I can do that.”

He shook his head. “What if a guy decides he’s not happy just fucking you, and-”

“What if the girl you were supposed to meet drugged you, kidnapped and sold you to human traffickers?” I snapped back, and he looked taken aback.

“It’s different.” He insisted. “It was just this once for me. How many times have you
done this? Do you have anyone watching your back? Someone who checks in on you every 30 minutes, like a pimp or a buddy-”

“No I don’t have a pimp, Ben. What the fuck. What are you, the hooker police?” I was getting steaming mad, mostly because he was right. In retrospect, neither me or my FWB were following the “rules”. I had no buddy to watch over me, no one to call if I got in trouble besides him. Because Ben had thought farther ahead for my own safety than I did, and the one person that cared about me that much had his heart taken by someone who couldn’t hold a conversation with him for longer than two minutes. Because maybe as much as I told myself and everyone that we were the best of friends, I had seen him as something more for a long time.

I grabbed my umbrella and headed for the door, turning my face to hide the tears welling my eyes. He grabbed for my arm, but I pulled away, and took off running. I could hear his footsteps behind me, echoing in the empty hallway, nearly drowned out by the pit patter of rain against the roof.

Then I realized there were no stairs in the hotel. Just the elevator. So I stood there, defeated, and pressed the button. Ben caught up, and I tried shielding my face from him, but he took me by the shoulders, and planted his lips on mine. We stood like that for an eternal moment – him holding by the small of my back, my eyes wide open with shock, then closing in defeat as the wave of satisfaction washed over my body. His tongue licked at mine, teasing me and giving me chills. His cock became erect faster than ever before, pushing against me with urgency. I slid one hand toward it, gently caressing it from the outside of his pants. His tongue pushed deeper and deeper into me, aggressively pinning mine down to the bottom of my mouth. I felt a slipperiness between my legs, and my mind was enveloped with thoughts of disbelief. It was really happening.

He pushed me against the wall, gently humping against me. I shook and moaned in pleasure, as his pelvis thrust into mine, dry humping and giving me a taste what it would be like to have him inside me, fucking me with all abandon. He began running his hands through the inside of my flimsy nightgown, his smooth palms feeling like heaven as he gently rubbed my back. Then he moved to my chest, tenderly massaging my nipple and squeezing my boob, sending jolts of pleasure through me, and adding to the wetness down below.

“Those pictures were yours afterall, I guess?” He said with a chuckle. I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel room, and you can find out?” He drew a sharp breath, nodded briefly, and took my hand to lead me back. I decided then to push my luck, and to this day I wonder how life would hav turned out differently if I hadn’t.

“We can even check the room for some whipped cream or honey for you to lather on me.” I quipped. He froze. The hand I was holding seemed to quiver a bit, before relaxing his grip and letting go. He whole figure seemed to go slack, as if some dreadful realization was washing over him. I knew then that I had fucked it up.

“Selene.” He said finally, straightening out. “I’m really sorry.” He turned to look at me, and shook his head sadly. “A lot of memories just came back to me. I’m really not over her.” He walked towards me, and took my hand. “I’m not sure the best way to do that is to get under my close friend.” He walked toward the elevator, and I watched the view of his back grow smaller as he treaded down the hallway. “I don’t want to lose you along with her.” He said, as he stepped into the lift and out of my view.

On the way home, I could feel a damp spot in my yoga pants, and I was experiencing an incredible mixture of sexual frustration and emotional pain. I imagined Ben was going back to Isabelle right now, winning her back, and then the two of them fucking all over every inch of the apartment. I texted my FWB, praying to dear god that he was home.

“Yeah, just got back from the gym.” He replied.

“Sweet. Get ready for another workout when I’m back.”

When I opened the door to the apartment, he was waiting for me in nothing but a towel. I practically leapt on him, throwing the towel off, grasping his penis and planting a deep kiss on his mouth. His arms wrapped around mine, one hand finding my butt and giving it a resounding slap. I tugged vigorously at his cock in response, quickly revving it up to full mast. A bit of pre-cum dripped out from the excitement, and I stepped back and seductively licked my fingers, one at a time.

“It’s been so long since I tasted you, daddy.” I moaned. I saw him visibly take a deep breath. With a sly smile, I slowly walked two fingers down my stomach to my pussy, and began fingering myself while whimpering and keeping my eyes locked with his. He gulped, and stood there for a second, like he was watching a top notch porn video. Then took two strides to me, and grabbed me by the hair, forcing my head back. His other hand found my crotch, and began to finger blast me. Waves of pleasure rocked my body, and I felt my pussy clenching around his fingers as I grew even wetter. Then he removed his fingers, and stuck them into my mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded, and I promptly complied, lickng his finger like it was the best cock in the world. I could feel his member growing and pressing into my back as I did so. I’ll never know what he loved so much about me tasting my own pussy juice, but it got him going like nothing else.

Another resounding slap on my ass sent shocks of pain and pleasure through me, and he grabbed my hair once again and forced me down on my knees. Without needing any more instruction, I began to service his cock with vigor. I covered the entire head with my mouth, and bobbed up and down while fondling his balls. He let out an audible moan of pleasure, and put his hand on the back of my head, pushing me gently as I throated the most sensitive part of his cock. There was always something deeply intimate about a blowjob that I loved – a guy trusting you with his most sensitive appendage, braving the risk of teeth centimeters away for the pleasure that a tongue and throat could provide. My thoughts wandered to Ben – was Isabelle one of the only girls he had trusted in that way? Is she blowing him right now?

No. Think of something else. Distract yourself. I licked my lips and looked up at my FWB.

“Try pinching my nostrils while I do it.” I said sweetly. He seemed confused, but nodded.

So I exhaled, and took his entire cock in my mouth, and then he pinched my nostrils, creating a vacuum inside my mouth. A trick a client had taught me on the job. I began to bob up and down, with one hand on his thigh, which was quivering with pleasure. He began to moan more than I’d ever heard before, so I tried going faster. The pressure in my mouth was pulling on his cock like a handjob inside a blowjob, and he seemed to be a fan. But I had to stop, and take a deep breath. It was a trick that required literally exhaling oxygen, and then not breathing, so it was impossible to hold for long without risking brain damage,

“Damn.” He said. And that was all that needed to be said. I gave him a proud grin. Then he pulled me up and hoisted me on his shoulder in one smooth motion. He started to move, I couldn’t see where we were going, except the blur of the floor rushing below me. With another smack on my ass, he set me down, and I saw that I was facing the balcony window. We lived on the fourth floor, and overlooked a road with other apartment buildings on the other side. The curtains were swept aside, so my naked body was exposed for anyone who happened to be looking.

“Didn’t know you were a voy-” I began to say, but was interrupted by my own panties being stuffed in my mouth. Judging from the smell, he had taken them from the dirty laundry basket. Then he grabbed a handful of my hair with one hand, and both of my wrists with the other. He shoved me against the glass door, my boobs flattening against the pane, and my increasingly wet pussy was exposed to the cold sting of the glass. He pressed against me from behind, and poked his cock against the lips of my crotch, teasing me in a back and forth motion. I moaned and whimpered through my panty gag, wishing he would just enter me. Wishing some of the pain I felt inside could be tempered by the pleasure of his cock pounding me. But he did not oblige, and continued to tease me. He moved one hand down, just feel the outside of my pussy lips, and chuckled.

“Are you looking forward to something?” He whispered in my ear, and I moaned and nodded in response.

“Pwease, daddy.” I said in muffled, heaving breath. I saw people on the sidewalk, leaving and returning home, going to the grocery store or the dentist, oblivious to the debauchery four floors above them. Cars driving by, some stopped by the intersection. I wondered if behind the tinted glass, they were looking up towards us, seeing me getting teased and edged to my wit’s end.

He positioned his cock outside my pussy walls, and pushed inside just a tiny portion. I held my breath, anticipating the rest of it filling me up, but then he backed away, and I bit down harder on my panties in frustration. He kept this up a few more times, sliding in just the tip, just enough to get me thinking that this was the one, that he would finally give me his cock, but then sliding back out again.

I heard the “Ding!” of a text message from my phone, which was with my purse at the door. “That’s yours.” My FWB – who I both hated and wanted more badly than anything else at that moment – said. “Go get it.” He motioned. I looked at him pleadingly, wishing it could wait, but knowing that he was just using it to continue to toy with me and keep me on edge. So I stumbled back over to my purse, and took out my phone.

It was a text from Ben. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I was behaving irresponsibly. Call me and let’s talk.”

I heard the footsteps of my FWB approaching from behind me, and hid my phone back in my purse. He grabbed my butt, planted a deep, tongue-fucking kiss on my mouth, and pulled away to ask “Who was it?”

Before I could answer, the phone began to ring. My FWB shrugged, and said “You should probably take it” and headed back to his bedroom. I was so sexually frustrated at that point that I almost didn’t care that it was a call from Ben. I picked up and tried my best to sound normal.

“Hey, Selene. Are you okay?” He asked in worried tone.

I sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just got back home.” I rubbed my forehead, and saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror down the hall. Red handprints all over my ass, my hair and face a mess of saliva, precum, and sweat.

“Listen, I know I might have hurt your feelings today. I’m calling to apologize. I was vulnerable, and I took advantage of your friendship for intimacy and comfort.” He said. “You deserve better from me.”

I looked at the floor as I listened to him, trying not to cry. Blinking back the tears, I began to respond, but caught a motion in the corner of my eye. I looked up at the bathroom mirror again to my FWB approaching behind me, still naked. In one swift motion, he pushed me into the bathroom, bent me over the sink, and entered me from behind.

I moaned audibly, relishing the feeling of his cock finally entering my glistening pussy. He began to pound away relentlessly, the sheer force of it shaking the sink and pushing cups, toothbrushes and makeup to the ground. With each thrust, a wave of uncontrollable pleasure racked my body and I continued to moan, feeling the orgasm building and my heartrate rising. My nipples grew hard and rubbed painfully against the granite sink, though at this point it was impossible to discern pain from pleasure.

“Selene?” My phone was still in my hand, and Ben was still on the line. In a brief moment of clarity and quick thinking, I turned the faucet to start the running water, somewhat covering the rhythmic sound of getting nailed over the sink.

“Hey Ben, sorry I dropped the phone there.” I said. “Thank you for apologizing.” I sounded weirdly formal and robotic, probably because I was trying my best to steady my voice and pretend everything was normal.

“Yeah. No worries.” He replied. “You removing your makeup?”

I nodded, while covering my mouth to stop the moans and gasps from escaping. I could see my FWB’s expression in the mirror, looking like he was having the time of his life. His cock filled my pussy with each thrust, and his finger began to explore the other hole, massaging the exterior and adding to the waves of pleasure already rocking my body and numbing my mind.

I then realized that I had nodded, and Ben would have no way of knowing that. “Yup!” I replied. “Sorry, just keep talking. I’ve got a long process.”

“Alright. Guess I should be flattered you got so prettied up for me.” He said. “Anyways, I want you to know that you’re special to me. I’m not the most outward guy, but I can talk to you endlessly. About things totally inane.” He sighed. “I don’t want to lose that. Certainly not for an afternoon quickie to get over Isabelle.” His words seemed heartfelt, and in any other circumstance, I would have been moved and probably Ubered over to his place and given him a hug. It didn’t solve the problem of me being in love with him, but that was for another day. For the time being though, I was still deeply relishing the ruthless fucking my FWB was giving me after a long day of sexual frustration

“Yeah, I’m with you there. I’m glad we stopped before it was too late.” I said. “Listen, how about we get coffee again. Say Wednesday?”

“Sounds great.” He seemed relieved. “And listen, about the escorting thing.” He paused for a moment. “Nevermind. Let’s just talk Wednesday.”

“Yea, see you then!” I said with a great deal of effort, and finally hung up. “You are such a dick.” I said, and stopped holding back. My FWB took the cue, and began thrusting deeper and harder, while keeping the same rhythm and speed. In no time at all, I felt the convulsions of orgasm shaking me to the core, my stomach and legs quivering from the explosive sensation. Turned on even more by this, my FWB pumped even harder, his face grimacing with the effort. The head of cock was rubbing against the depths of my pussy, and then hot cum spurted out in great waves as his expression changed from a grimace to relief. After a moment of respite, my FWB slipped out of me, and gave me a final resounding smack on the butt. He seemed pleased with himself.

Later that night, my phone woke me up with a string of text messages. I groggily turned it on, to find that they were from my dad.

“Selene”
“Are you okay”
“Your mother misses you.”

In that moment, I felt as if all the things in the world were right. Not perfect, but right. I still had my best friend, I had a path to get to back to school, and there was even a glimmer of hope that my family had forgiven me. Unfortunately, this is my very late coming of age story, and with any coming of age story, the protagonist must learn in the real world, when it rains, it pours.

*Have been typing for 4 – 5 hours straight, so ill probably pick this up another time. Thanks for reading, and thank you for the kind comment replies.

The dialogue in this story may seem to suffer from the “movie dialogue effect” where everyone has a response for everything. My preclusion to this is to state that

1. Ben simply was (and is) a very well spoken and quick-witted person IRL.
2. The dialogue is not 1:1 with exactly what was said, but I don’t have perfect memory. I’m filling in some of the gaps with dialogue that makes sense for the events that occurred. If that makes sense. Maybe it doesn’t. It’s late.*

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/adhjyt/my_year_as_an_escort_and_the_time_my_best_friend/)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/adssx3/my_year_as_an_escort_and_the_time_my_best_friend