My year as an escort, and the time my best friend was a customer [FM] Part 4

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

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/adssx3/my_year_as_an_escort_and_the_time_my_best_friend/)

[Part 3]
(https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ag7yr7/my_year_as_an_escort_and_the_time_my_best_friend/)

With a gentle touch, I opened the fridge, and reached into the freezer to pull out an ice cube. Facing the hotel room mirror, I ran the ice over my nipples, feeling them grow hard and sensitive.

Then I stuck a hand into the jar of nutella I’d brought, and scooped out a handful to lather on my breasts.

I checked myself out in the mirror. Underneath the layer of chocolate spread, you could see the faint outline of my supple, shapely breasts, with small, brown nipples just poking out of the surface of chocolate goo.

My eyes traced down my flat stomach towards my pelvic area, where my freshly waxed pussy awaited its treatment. With a sigh, I scooped another handful of nutella and began lathering it over my pubic area, careful to avoid my actual vaginal opening.

When my pelvic area had been sufficiently lathered in chocolate hazelnut spread, I tiptoed to the bedroom, and softly opened the door. “Baby.” I crooned. “I’m ready for you.”

The man lying on the bed with his cock standing at attention was a repeat customer. He was either very rich or very lonely, because he requested me at least once a week, and always tipped handsomely.

He also – if you couldn’t tell – had a bit of a fetish in regard to eating sweet things off the female body.

He beckoned me over, and I walked over to the bed, placing my fingers on his body. “How’ve you been, baby?” I said, as I gently rubbed his arms. “Not too bad.” He replied. “Bit of a busy week at work. Lots of clients.”

“Aww, I’m sorry. Let me make it better.” I said with a pout, as I got on the bed and straddled him, careful to lean back so the nutella wouldn’t drip off my chest and pussy.

“Better already.” He said with a smile. I smiled back, and brought my boob to his face. He responded by eagerly licking away, his hot tongue caressing my hard, chocolate covered nipple.

I felt a tingle of pleasure as he consumed the nutella on my right boob, my crotch feeling a bit tight and warm as he lapped away. “Mmm, you get better every time, baby.”

He pushed me roughly on my back, and eyed the hourglass figure sprawled out below with ravish abandon. Then he pounced, and feasted himself on my breasts, licking them until they were spotless. I moaned and gasped and he did, the hot warmth between my legs growing with each flicker of his tongue.

He was my favorite client – not only because he was closer to my age than my typical clientele, tipped well, and spent a few days a week in the gym – but also because I didn’t have to fake much when we fucked. I got the sense that he saw escorts not he needed to, but because he wanted to.

Once he had completely cleaned up my breasts, he began kissing his way down to towards my crotch, which was now dripping with anticipation.

With one finger, he scooped up a wad of nutella, and brought it my lips. I sucked his finger seductively, licking playfully with my tongue and tasting the sweet, rich chocolate spread.

He had licked my pubic area completely clean, and I knew what he was going for next as he licked lower and lower, approaching my pussy.

With a gentle nudge, I brought his face up, and planted a kiss on his lips. My tongue flirted with his, as one of my hands rubbed his chest, just barely caressing his nipples. Each time I did, it sent a shiver through his body.

His cock was pressed against my leg, and I could feel it gradually growing and hardening. As it approached its peak, he forced his tongue more and more deeply into my mouth, wrestling with mine and leaving behind the taste of white chocolate.

When I was sure that every bit of sugar had been cleaned off his lips, I broke off the kiss and guided his face back towards my pussy. Had to the pH levels in check, you know?

He started with short, soft licks on the right side of my lips. Then he guided a finger towards my clit, gently rubbing it in a circular motion. My moans began to build as my thighs tightened, and I unwillingly began to arch my back and lift myself off the bed.

He smiled at me with a mouthful of pussy, knowing that he was building me up just to tear me down.

He began to push more aggressively with his tongue, applying more force to my inside walls. Using his free hand, he stuck on finger inside my pussy, vigorously finger fucking me as he hungrily lapped up my nectar.

He stuck his other hand into my mouth, coating his fingers with my saliva, and brought it down to my clit, rubbing it faster and more roughly than before. I felt my legs tightening out of my control as I tried to stop from screaming.

Then abruptly, he stopped. His gaze locked with mine, and seeing the desperation in my eyes, he smiled. “You want it?” He whispered. I nodded vigorously.

He shook his head. “Beg for it.” He said. Fuck, he had me. I took a deep breath.

“Please baby.” I asked pleadingly, giving him my best puppy eyes look. “Please let me cum.”

He began to rub my clit again, gently and slowly in a circular motion.

“How badly do you want it?” He asked, knowing I was at his mercy. Internally, I wanted to scream and shove his head into my crotch. But I knew I had to behave.

“Really badly.” I responded. “Please.”

He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. Then, he suddenly became very serious. “Alright.”

In a single motion, he brought his face inches from mine, and entered me in a hard, unforgiving thrust. I felt my insides turn to jelly, as my mind went blank and the orgasm rocked my body. My legs convulsed, shaking with pleasure as I coated his cock with my juices.

Then he started to move.

His cock forced its way into my slit, pushing against the walls forcefully and sending ripples of painful pleasure through me. I grasped at the bedsheets desperately, as if I held on tightly enough, I could transfer some of intensity of my pleasure to the bed, helping me retain my sanity.

He rammed me mercilessly. In and out. In and out. With each thrust, I felt the wetness below growing, as a wave of warmth washed over me. I was so wet that his dick started making splattering sounds as he fucked me, and it glistened in the dim hotel light each time it exited my mound. The visual reminders of how wet I was and how hard he was made me even hornier, entrapping me in a never ending cycle of self-reinforcing orgasms.

He huffed as he speared me on his member, eyeing me with deadly focus. Like a hunter wearing down his prey. With one hand, he hoisted my leg over his shoulder, forcing me to spread myself completely open to him. As he fucked me sideways, his dick went deeper and deeper into me, eliciting uncontrollable shudders of ecstasy.

His free hand found its way to my clit, gently brushing against it, teasing. I gasped, whimpering, half hoping he wouldn’t, half wishing he would. He saw the brief flicker of fear in my eyes, and chuckled. Licking his fingers to wet them, he pinched my clit between his thumb and finger, and began to knead me like dough.

My whimpers and moans turned to screams, but he didn’t stop. Rather, my reaction only egged him on. Grinning sadistically, he rubbed me faster and fucked me harder, thrusting into my pelvic area with deeper and more forceful strokes. I felt him slamming against my cervix, each time sending a tremor of hot burning pleasure up into my stomach and washing over me.

That night was my favorite session, and the most memorable – not only because it was such a satisfying fuck, but also because it was my last.

When I had thoroughly drenched his cock with my cum and the sheets were wet with our perspiration and body fluids, we fell together in a heap, giggling and cuddling as we basked in the post-coital glow. He enveloped me in his beefy arms, nibbled my ear as my feet gently rubbed against his legs. Washing my mind in momentary bliss, and giving me brief respite from the pain of the last two weeks.

That’s how long it had been since Ben and I hooked up at his apartment. Two weeks. He had never talked to me again since our last text. And though I yearned to hear from him, to see his gentle blue eyes and listen to his deep, calming voice, I never wanted to be desperate enough to text him and ask.

“Have you decided yet?” I wanted to say. “Are we still friends?” Each morning I’d wake up, and be briefly blinded by the light of my phone as I checked for his message. Each morning, I would drop my phone in disappointment, burying my face in my pillow and feeling like a small piece of my heart was crumpling away.

The client gave me a cheery slap on the butt as he headed out the door. “Same time next week, babe?” I cooed after him, and he disappeared with a thumbs up. I put the cash in my wallet, and hailed an Uber back to the apartment.

I came back to a dark, empty living room. Various empty cups of ramen and unwashed coffee mugs were strewn across the kitchen and dining room. I took off my eyes and placed on the rack, and gingerly stepped over the mountain of disarrayed high heels.

This was Kim’s apartment. When my FWB had kicked me out, I had nowhere to turn. She’d left her number on a note, so I called her, and she kindly offered me her living room. My sad little cot and makeshift closet was there, storing my assortment of clothes. My wardrobe had devolved into a binary – on one side of the closet were sweatpants, large t shirts, and yoga pants – and the other side was filled exclusively with tiny, revealing dresses, lingerie, and whatever customers tended to request.

It was an escort’s closet. I tried to hide my career choice from Kim at first, but she picked it up very quickly. Not that she minded, or judged – in her words, my story was “pretty badass”, an example of a woman making the best of a shitty situation. I sighed, wishing her optimism could rub off on me.

Speaking of rubbing off on me, I ventured into the bedroom. There was Kim’s queen sized bed, littered with the remains of the many late nights we’d spent together since I moved in. Dildoes, vibrators, my underwear and her bras all over the floor. My legs got a bit wobbly as I eyed the toys and other evidence of our trysts. Kim was a good host in many ways, and I repaid her with a light knock on her door every night.

She would open it just a crack, peeking at me with mischief in her eyes. I would bring my face close to hers, and ask “Hey, I’m having some trouble sleeping. Think I could join you?” With a sly smile, she would nod yes, and I would happily prance into her room, my underwear already around my legs. She grabbed me from behind, twirling me around and locking me in a deep kiss, our tongues jousting with each other as we pressed our bodies together. My boobs would push into hers, our nipples colliding and sending sparks of pleasure as our bodies heated up.

There would be a whirlwind of our already racy clothes coming off as we stumbled to the bed. She would pin against the bedframe, the tips of her fingers pushing impatiently into my mound. I would gasp, standing on my tip toes as the bliss took over me, holding onto the bed for support as her fingers quickly brought me to my first climax.

My legs feeling weak, I would fall to my knees, bringing my face level with her mound. With a light kiss, I would elicit a light moan from her, and then I would begin to lick. Slowly at first, to ease her into it. Her juices would begin flowing out of her pussy, filling my mouth with her taste. I would lap away happily, swallowing every drop as her gasps of pleasure grew louder.

Then I would find her clit, hardened with arousal, and lick around it. Giving her a feeling of tingling warmth surrounding the place she really wanted me to go, but never quite got to. She would give me a frustrated look, but her expression would soften each time I licked a bit closer, failing to hide the spikes of pleasure that my efforts were giving her.

When she finally lost patience, she would grab the back of my head, and push my face deeper into her crotch. Overwhelming my other senses with her smell, her raw primal smell after a long day at work, in a spot where no perfume reached. I would take a deep breath and soak it all in, getting addicted to her natural musk. Then I would finally bring my tongue to her clit, and her response would be immediate.

With a loud moan, she would step back, leaning into the wall. Her head would toss back, her mouth forming a small “o” as her legs quivered, and a torrent of her cum filled my mouth. I would press my tongue firmly into her clit, massaging it deeply in big swirls, occasionally sucking on it like a nipple, or licking her entire pussy starting with her opening all the way up to her clit, in a big repeated motions. Mixing it up, so that she never knew exactly what was coming next. Keeping on her toes, both figuratively and literally, as she arched her heels in ecstasy.

Eventually, we would move to the bed, her grabbing my hair and leading me along. Once we were on the sheets, I would lie by her side like a loyal animal, sucking on her tits as she gently fingered me, drowning out the humming of the heater with our soft moans and gasps.

Without my noticing, she would pick up one of her toys, perhaps a dildo, or a small vibrator, and move it towards my crotch. I would offer my ass off readily for her to insert whatever toy she picked up. If it was a vibrator, she would tuck it into my pussy, which would hungrily swallow it whole with a wet slurp. I would continue to service her with my tongue as she opened up the app on her phone, and slid the power scale up slowly but steadily, the buzzing of the toy growing louder alongside my moaning.

We had many late nights like this, with our writhing, hot bodies strewn across the bed, mouths on boobs, tongues licking pussies, toys shoved in every orificie. She would sometimes get rough, shoving my face into the pillow and keeping it down with a foot on the back of head, while she plunged a large dildo into me, blasting me and forcing me to orgasm over and over as my muffled screams died in the pillow. After a few minutes, when my body was spent, she would bring the dildo drenched in my juices to my face, and I would happily clean it off with my mouth.

I was standing there in the doorway of Kim’s bedroom, eyes closed and licking my lips, totally oblvious of my surroundings as I recalled the good memories of the past few weeks, until the “Ding!” of a text snapped me out of it. I fumbled with my purse and extricated my phone, and my mouth was agape as I read the sender’s name.

“Hey Selene… Can we talk?” Ben’s name stared back at me through the phone.

“Yeah sure.” I replied.

Then my phone was ringing. I looked at his caller ID, a silly picture of him eating a hotdog, my heart beating audibly. I pressed Accept.

“Hey.” His thick British accent came through the other end.

“Hey.”

There was a long pause. A silence that neither of us dared to break. As if the moment we did, every word would be etched into eternity, so whoever spoke first needed to have the perfect words.

“I miss you.” He said, finally.

“I miss you, too.” I said, my voice cracking.

“I broke up with Isabelle. We talked. We argued. We tried. For the last two weeks, we tried.” He said with a sigh. “But it wasn’t worth it, Selene.”

“It didn’t work out?” I said, holding on to my breath.

“No, it didn’t.” He replied. Then he paused. “There were all these reasons, that we, you know – talked about. Why we didn’t work.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, those were all bullshit. When we tired ourselves from yelling, when our voices were gone and the apartment was gone and our energy was spent, it all came down to one thing.” He said. “I think I actually love you, Selene.”

I put my hand over my mouth.

Nothing had really worked out. I was selling my body every week, but not saving nearly enough to go back to school. I was bouncing from place to place, first getting kicked out by my parents, then by my FWB.

I had texted my parents. We met up for an awkward and stiff lunch. We talked, while I tried to avoid the topic, until the end, when they finally dropped the question of how I was supporting myself. Had I finally gotten an honest job, learned a lesson? Was I ready to go back to church, own up to my mistakes?

The sound of the plate shattering on the ground was all the answer I needed when I told them how I was really making money. I had promised myself that if nothing else, I wouldn’t lie to them anymore. Maybe that was a mistake, because that lunch ended quickly thereafter, my mother sobbing uncontrollably once more, my father wearing the solemn grimace of a man who had one fewer family member.

Because that was the answer, the one that would always be unacceptable to them, yet was my only answer to everything. Fucking. Fucking for money, fucking for rent, fucking to fill the hole in my heart that grew a little bit everyday as I watched my classmates post their graduation pictures. As I woke up every morning without hearing from Ben, and imagined him back together with Isabelle, them going on happy little coffee dates and him licking honey off her tits.

And as I looked into the future, I could saw nothing but a neverending bleakness. As each day came and passed, I fell exhausted and sore into my pillow, with a touch more despair than I had the night before.

Something hot and wet fell on my hand, as I covered my mouth to stop him from hearing the sobs. One drop, then another, then a torrent followed as I cried and cried.

“Selene?” He asked with concern?

“Yeah.” I said, wiping away my tears. “I’m here.”

He took a deep breath. “I know that’s a bit of a bomb to drop on you, and our last few encounters have been… confusing. I completely understand if you don’t have an answe-”

“I love you, too.” I said, my heart feeling like it would burst. “Longer than I can even remember. You big oaf.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. I remembered it clearly. One day in freshman year, I had missed class, and borrowed the notes from a boy sitting next to me. A boy with bangs that were just a bit too long, that hid his bright blue eyes. The boy whose notes contained an eloquence that his classmates envied, with handwriting so elegant that I just had to take a picture.

I still have that picture now. It was a tiny little note, scribbled in the corner of a page about Jane Austen. A fleeting thought from the mind of a talented student, who had jotted it down to explore later.

“On love: if it’s easy, it’s not worth reading.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/anpr91/my_year_as_an_escort_and_the_time_my_best_friend