Every girl thinks about it. Most will never do it. Either for moral reasons, fear of judgment, or just fear in general.
I always knew it would happen. But the situation had to be right. I wasn’t looking to be used by a couple of douche bags. I wanted to have some control. And I wanted them to know it was about my pleasure as much as theirs.
So there’s a guy in my life who is a little lavish. Let’s call him Brett.
He says he’s a real hot shot at the office, but I suspect he’s really a trust fund kid. He’s late 20s. Well dressed. Slender. Handsome enough. And he likes to throw money around. A typical evening involves a fancy dinner, some gifts for me, and a night in a luxury hotel.
Brett is a good fuck.
He’s not a great fuck. He doesn’t have a mega dick or stamina to last all night. He doesn’t make me cum every time. But he’s also not an alpha male asshole who expects me to act like a porn star or put up with degrading names. He’s got a thing for sheer lace lingerie and stockings and is happy to pay for the nice stuff.