Many thanks to Cernunos, my editor for this story too. English is not my first language, and he had tried to preserve my “style” in the editing.

*****

I like Klimt, Chagall, the New Age music and the war movies.

Yes, I am a complicated person. “The duality of man, sir, a Jungian thing, sir…”… I really like them, from “Save Private Ryan” to “Black Hawk down”, to “The 9th company” (no sir, this is not made in Hollywood)… However, war movies are just to release my aggressiveness, you know, “transfer”, things like that. If you hear that someone has crushed a guy because he found him too tanned, well, it was not me. It’s not that I love all the peoples of the world, but I’m for “live and let live”. I have a friend who can’t take the gays, well, I have told him too, they don’t bother me, provided they don’t touch my… you know what.

What do I do, then? well, I have a job, and I like it. I earn well too. As Springsteen says, “they pay me a king’s ransom for doing what comes naturally”… Well, a king’s ransom, let’s not exaggerate. I am not “The Boss”…

And as a matter of fact, I don’t sing.

How it all began? Hard to explain – and to believe. To quote the late, lamented Isaac Babel, “life strives in every way to resemble a well reported history”. But it not always succeeds. Let’s say that it began after a…well, a strictly personal thing with a lady. A real lady. She was divorced and nauseated about marriage, so she told me. Too bad. Sure, once burnt, twice careful.

I would not criticize her former husband. It’s not easy to be a good one. On the other hand, nobody forced him to marry, and marriage is not the retirement of a man. You have a regular client, but you have to satisfy him (her), at least every now and then. I know, work, the stress, time for yourself, but at least every now and then, both in bed and out of it. You can’t simply come home from the church, remove the bridegroom suit and wear your slippers.

Well, the former husband of that lady did something like that, or worse. So she was looking for another kind of stories. And she had found me.

And she liked me.

By the way, even in bed, she was a true lady. No blocks, experienced, able to let go completely, as not many girls are (and if a girl doesn’t let go, she will never get to the “Big Top”…). But she knew what she wanted and what she did not. And I, figure it out: “yes, ma’am”. In a nutshell, we got to the Big Top. Not in the same moment, that is a whim. If it happens, it’s good, otherwise, it’s good all the same.

And then during a quiet chat she wanted to make it clear that she was not in love with me, although she would not mind seeing me again (and not only “seeing” me). I accepted. We were adult; we were sinning like professionals… I don’t remember how it came, talking about professionals, she asked me whether I would have been willing to do for money what I had just done.

“If I were sure that only women like you would offer me the money, yes. Otherwise, no, I wouldn’t.”

She laughed.

But I didn’t expect that she took me at my word.

A few days later, another lady phoned me. She said she was a friend of the lady I knew, and that she had a gift for me, on her behalf. She asked what time she could bring it to me, I told her what time, and I gave her my address. She came at my house, she gave me the gift and then she stood there, very embarrassed.

I was embarrassed too. I didn’t know whether to accompany her to the door or what else to do, but she didn’t move. I thought that she was judging the spartan interiors of my student’s flat. But I was wrong.

She made up her mind all of a sudden. “Excuse me if I speak now about that, but how much do you want?”

“How much do I want for what?”

“Well, the lady has told me that you… you… Oh my God!!”

Yes, SHE had told “Oh my God”, but I was a bit stunned too. I recovered just before she turned to get out (more precisely, to run away). I explained to her how it all happened with the other lady, she was keeping on apologizing…

“No problem. You can stay, if you want,” I said. She looked at me. She could be the younger sister of the lady I knew. Just, the other lady has been blonde and she was brown: her hair was almost black. As for the rest, they both had gorgeous, full, fleshy bodies. I had decided…all in all…she wanted; I was not so averse…

“Do you really want to do it?” I asked. She nodded: she wanted, fear and desire warring in her features.

I tried to put myself in her shoes. She had to be as desperate as I was when I had my first experience. I had started with a “how-much-do-you-want” too, yes, I do declare. And I had been lucky. No haste, nothing unpleasant. I had to behave as “she” had behaved with me.

The woman I was facing had sweet eyes, sweeter than those of the lady I knew, and when I embraced her, she let me.

“Don’t do it in a hurry,” she told me. “Don’t strip me now…”

I nodded, I didn’t say anything. casino oyna I had my nose in her hair, and her smell was really good. Full, as that of all brunettes, but not aggressive. Soft. And her body was soft too. I waited for a minute or two before reaching under her suit. Her skin was tender and warm. Very warm. I don’t know whether it was always so, or it was just then because she was getting excited…

I was ready to stop and let her go, without insisting, at the first sign of repentance, of afterthought. But she had no second thought, she just wanted to have the time to relax, to let go, and then I would have her – totally.

“You are clever. You have nice hands,” she said.

My hands were already where usually the sun doesn’t shine, at least one hand. The other arm surrounded her shoulders, pressing her gently against me. I felt her boobs, soft and warm against my chest.

I wanted to hold those boobs in my hands. I passed behind her, as if we were dancing. She let me take them, humming. I was not so foolish as to squeeze them. Palms on the nipples, circling slowly, then below, as to weigh her breast, and then on to the nipples again. She was just sighing. Sighs that spoke as a thousand words. She was shy, emotional as a girl, but physically, a pressure cooker, a mine to be defused… slowly, slowly…

I went under her skirts, putting my hands on her crotch. She let me. No resistance. Her panties were damp, not soaked, but damp… I touched her there around, and they became damper and damper. She was sighing, just stronger.

“You’re clever, you’re clever! Keep on this way, a bit… through the fabric…”

I did as she said, feeling my fingers inside her already, through her underwear. She said something like “Hnnnnn!” but she did not stop me. I knew that some women don’t like to be penetrated with a finger, so I keep massaging her vulva, without pushing too hard inside of her. She was pushing her back against my belly, feeling my dick, hard and erect between her buttocks. She startled.

“Don’t take me yet, please… touch me again…” she begged.

I nodded, touching the skin of her cleavage between her boobs with one hand, while massaging her belly with the other, my palm on her skin. She was moaning, relaxed, accepting. I could have bent her body down, pushed away her underwear and penetrated her from behind, with all her clothes on, and she would have surrendered without a fight. She was ready for a male, her body was ready, and her sex was ready. But I did not do it. The man knocks at the door, but it’s up to the woman to say “come in”…

When she said “come in”, I thanked my laziness that prevented me from making up completely my sofa- bed: it was still a “bed”. We undressed each other without saying a word, kissing each other on the mouth, on the neck, until we both were naked. Then I embraced her. We were very close to the bed now.

She lay down slowly, surrounded by my arms, looking into my eyes, and then I dropped a bit of my “nice guy” tenderness. It was Zhukov’s final offensive over Berlin, the ride of Patton beyond the Rhine river, and make of it what you will, but she was ready for that and more than that. I rode her, and she enjoyed being ridden, hard and long. At the end, I was breathless and covered by her smell, from my face down. And she was more breathless than me.

“You have killed me,” she said, smiling. “You have really killed me…”

Of course she was exaggerating. It was clear that she was very healthier and happier now than when she had entered my door.

With a small effort, she stood and went to have a shower. When she came from the bathroom, I was wearing my boxer again. I offered her a coffee, but she said it was better for her to leave the square on the double. I nodded and accompanied her to the door, and before opening it, she asked me again how much I wanted. I had totally forgotten the trade part of the matter, but since she was insisting, I asked the same amount I had paid to my… say it “teacher of sex”.

She smiled, shook her head and gave me the double.

“And thanks for not to ask me why I came here to have sex.”

“You had your good reasons.” She nodded, and unexpectedly, explained to me what those reasons were, but I can’t repeat it here. It was a very personal matter. Yes, more personal than sex. And however, a gentleman enjoys and keeps mum…

And so my “secret life” began. I really had no need for that. I lived in the flat of a relative who was working abroad, my parents were sending me money enough to live and have some fun. In short, I did not do it for a living. I got thrown into it, and it was fine for me.

The clients did not come every day, and that was good, since I had to study too (I had rather not, but you can’t always get what you want). Every now and then somebody called, friends of the lady I knew, or friends of friends, you know…

The lady I knew came too, quite seldom. She wanted not a cent of what I earned: she was not my boss. She just canlı casino wanted me to be free, when she came, and I did what I could to be free for her. She was a step above the others from any point of view.

Life is not always fair. So all that discreet traffic of nice ladies around my flat did not cause the problems it would have caused if I would have been a girl and the clients would have been gentlemen. “C’est immorale et c’est comme-ca”: it’s immoral, and it’s so. Get over it…

Just once my neighbor asked me who was the lady who came to my flat in the afternoon and left some hours later.

“An aunt,” I said.

“Ah…” was the comment of my neighbor (a lady herself).

Some days later, another lady came at my flat and left later. As an educated person and as I always did, I accompanied her to the door and my neighbor saw us. When my client left, my neighbor looked at me:

“Another aunt?” she asked.

“Well…” I uttered.

“No worry!” she said, and smiled. “You are young, you like women, and women like you! Live your life!”

And returning to her flat, she crooned in her Bologna’s dialect.

“Anca mi quand’a l’era giuvnassa…” Me too, when I was a girl…

A sympathetic person.

All in all, if she has asked me to… who knows… maybe, even with a discount…

As time went by, I became a real underground idol, beyond my wildest expectation. In a certain way, even an international one.

Once I went to open my door and I saw a nice Asian girl. I was waiting for a client, and I was quite surprised to know that the client was her.

She was something like an “au-pair” girl in the family of the friend of a client of mine. She had listened by chance to a conversation between the two ladies about me. Quite a glowing conversation, it seemed. So she decided to verify personally, and there she was.

I recalled the client had a slight foreign accent when she phoned to fix the date, but I had thought a French woman, not a Japanese one. It was totally out of my imagination. I have dreamed of having sex with Japanese or even just an Asian girl (even with two if possible), but I did not expect to do it and to be paid for that.

Of course, when she asked about the price, I gave her the cheapest price I ever did. She accepted with a smile, and asked me to have a shower. It was quite a hot day, and the Japanese have a knack for cleanliness, I knew about that, so I led her to my bathroom without a fuss. I waited for her to wash up, refreshing my memory about something I had to study, and then she called me. I entered and she was in the tub, covered by the water.

“Do you mind if I have a bath? I like it very more than a shower…”

“No problem…” I said, playing a bit nicer. It was a bit more water to pay for, but to hell with that! Some things have no price.

“In my country we like to have a bath in hot water together, you know?”

“Is the water not warm enough?” I worried.

“No, the water is OK,” she smiled. “I would like to have a bath with you. Even to make love in the water with you…”

“Me too,” I admitted. “But the tub is too small.”

She was smiling even more. She had noticed it.

“I would like to have a shower with you too,” she said. I got the picture: “to have a shower” was a euphemism.

“Really?” I asked. She nodded.

“Get undressed please. Come here…”

I complied. You pay the piper, you call the tune, you know…

“Do you like Japanese girls?” she asked when we stood with our feet in the water, facing each other.

“Everybody likes them, here. But you must be among the nicest…” I said. She laughed. “And do you like the “gaijin”?”

“Not all of them… But I like you!” she said.

“So, let’s start?” I said.

“Let’s start,” she nodded. I opened the faucets and then turned on the shower, and we washed our faces in the warm falling water. Then we embraced tightly. She was not so small and fragile for a Japanese girl, but this was not a downside at all, for me. When I embrace, I REALLY embrace.

“You are strong. I like it.”

“Tell me if I hurt you…” I said. She shook her head no.

“I am not made of china. Be a man with me…”

I played with her boobs, letting the water warm her skin from above and gently squeezing them from below. She nodded, she liked that way. Her breasts got swollen.

“Touch me below,” she said. “They said you know how to do it…”

“You do what you can…” I said. She smiled and let me explore her crotch. I held it in my hand, and start to move it around, massaging her pubes.

“Your hand is strong, warmer than the water”, she said. “It’s fine”.

I bowed my head and tasted her nipples. She let me. I started to play my tongue on them and she started to sigh and moan.

“Put your fingers inside of me, now: I am ready”.

I slid two fingers inside, and she was really

ready, maybe for more than that. Hot, soft, deep and soaked. I penetrated kaçak casino her to the hilt, started to move my fingers inside her, faster and faster, left-to-right and back, and she moaned louder, but did not beg for mercy:

“Yes, yes, yes… Make me come this way… then take me… with your dick…”

I did what I wanted inside her belly with my fingers, and she just moaned and nodded. Her eyes closed, her body jolting and turning like in a dance. An Arabian or African one, not a geisha’s ritual one, not at all. I don’t know how we managed not to slide, but we did it.

And then she came. Moaning, crying, and nodding.

“Oh… thank you… “Kimochi okatta”… I went so well!” she said, when she was able to speak again. “I mean, I…”

“No worry… I know, you say “I went” to say “I came”… Right?”

“Right!” she smiled. “Now, I’m yours… Do to me what you want…”

I pulled my hand from her hole and tasted her juice. Wonderful. That particular taste, so difficult to explain and which also had a Japanese name: “umami”. She smiled at me.

“We call it ‘kanjuru’… or ‘ai eki’… juice of love…” she panted.

“I know. I have read it… What a lovely juice… you have…”

She chuckled.

“What do you want to do to me, now?”

“Face to that wall and bend yourself over” I ordered.

She obeyed like a docile slave, in love with her master, without stopping smile. She put her hand on the wall, along the shorter side of the tub, and waited to be penetrated.

I entered her slowly, knowing that her body was smaller than mine, and with that pose her sex was shorter and tighter than normal. She greeted me with a long, low moan, until I was totally inside of her, then she spoke.

“Now rock me as you want. I don’t need mercy. I like it when the man is rough. I like to feel he dominates me and I am in his hands. That’s the fun for me. Be a man…”

I complied again, gradually increasing the rhythm and the strength of my blows into her belly. I was waiting for her to say “hold, enough”, but she did not say it. She cried, whined, yelped with her most high-pitched voice, so that I was feeling almost a rapist, but did not say a word to stop me.

She really liked to be treated so, As if she was doomed, destined to surrender to the man. Maybe to all men, to their strength and their lust. The more the man boned her, took her sex roughly, ruled over her, the more she was happy.

“Your Kharma is to get fucked!” I said. And she nodded again.

“Yes, it is so! When I’m with a man… I am just a female… and I like it… Fuck me and talk to me this way!”

I tried to do it, but I felt a bit fake. I am not so chatty when I make sex. And usually I don’t scorn the women I do it with… Thank God, her sex was hot, her spine and her hair covering it were a wonderful view. Her moans were really exciting and before long I gloriously came (or went) inside of her, and this caused her orgasm too, or at least it was the last straw for it…

But this was just the beginning. She treated me as if I was the client, and not her. Without getting out of the tub, she knelt and took my dick in her mouth, glossed by her “love juice” and a bit by my “juice of male” (so they call it down there: “seyeki”…). And she kept doing it, without leaving aside my balls, until I came again, of course in her throat. And she did nothing to avoid it. Absolutely nothing…

Then she left, because they were waiting for her at home, but she came again, and we did what we had not done yet. I took her face to face, but first I tasted her pussy. She wanted it. She had heard that I was clever in that trade too. And she did not change her mind, when I did it…

And then she waited for me to have my tool hard again (helping me a bit, of course: something like a body massage, especially with her tits…), and then rode me, with my dick inside, and my hands on her boobs (and on her bum too. Nice one, indeed).

When she left, she gave me four times the money I had asked her. I tried to refuse such a too easily gained bounty, but she was adamant.

“Once for every time you made me “go”, this time and the last one!” she said.

And she gave me a kiss and a smile I still remember, very well…

But the most unexpected thing happened a fine summer day, some time later. Some years later, indeed.

A lady I had already known phoned me, and asked me when she could come, and I gave her a time. She had been one of the first ones, and I knew she was still beautiful. So I was happy to see her again, and ready to satisfy her as much as I could, as any serious professional deals with an old and good cus

But she did not come alone. There was a girl with her. Her daughter. I told her that I did not do a threesome. No, I will go away, she said.

And she left. The lady, not the girl. Well, I was quite embarrassed, even a bit upset. I never knew she had a daughter, you know, it’s not my habit to intrude in the lives of my clients. In another situation, I could even agree to a threesome, but not in THAT situation…

The girl looked at me. She was nice too; surely she didn’t need to pay for… it should be the other way round… So what gives?

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