T left for her month long gig this morning. I dropped her off at 5:30am for an early flight.
With a month of being completely on my own at hand, I’ve reconsidered the sugar daddy route. I tried SA and AF in the very early days of the pass, but got nowhere. Now, armed with a year of hobbying experience, advice from some escorts I know, and an influential nudge from a fellow blogger, I decided to test the waters.
I put up a simple and direct profile two days ago. Less than 50 words.
Essentially: “Married businessman serious about arranging discrete companionship. Occasional travel to cool locales…Have my shit together, serious about the $$$, and sex is part of the deal.”
Message a dozen women and sit back to see what my marketing campaign will yield.
Enter Stacy. Her tagline is “Adorkable Princess”
We start corresponding early Sunday. Quickly we stumble across something in common that I do not expect because she is 20 years younger. She is in the middle of a divorce from a sexless marriage to a partner who can’t perform due to a physical problem.”
De ja fucking vu.
Almost too convenient, but she brings it up first. If it is a plot device, it is blindly placed. Needless to say, that thread of commonality boosts our connection a LOT. We decide to meet in RL Monday for coffee at 12:30. However, things do not go exactly as I plan.
An image is worth a thousand words…even if it’s an image of words.
…whole different level of qualification going on. Not smart on either of our parts, and I know better. However, better lucky than good. A short time later she is standing in my driveway with a big smile. Medium height, petite, blonde, chocolate brown eyes, sundress, and beautiful. It has just stopped raining. I’m momentarily transfixed.
We have a very nice afternoon. On the surface it seems similar to a typical escorting experience. Underneath, it is somehow different. She is emotionally there from the beginning. Hungry for the intimacy, just like me.
Shortly after 12. She lies back on the bed and unties her dress. Curtains pulled back. Sunlight streaming in. We start kissing, stroking, licking, kissing, biting, etc. She whispers: “I really need you to fuck me right now.”
As I get up on my knees to roll on the condom, she takes my hand with a gesture: Traces her finger delicately across my palm and stares into my eyes.
Not lovingly, but thoughtful. No idea what thoughts are behind those brown eyes. Something.
I pause. The moment hangs there for a second, then everything resumes.
Stacy then demonstrates she is a serious screamer. Really really loud. Rattling the windows loud. My cats are probably like WTF?
She repeats the hand gesture all through the afternoon at different moments. Taking a break, we sit naked on my patio while she has a smoke, and absently traces my palm.
Afterwards, we shower, get dressed and I walk her out to her car. She grabs my hand. Traces my palm one last time.
Her dress is not tied quite right. I offer to help with the ties.
“Oh you’ll be tying me up in the very near future…. (long soft kiss)… But only after I’m sure you’re not some murderer stringing me along on a long con 🙂 .”
“Text me later!” She yells from the car as she drives away.