Read Online Adventures of a London Call Boy by Ben Franckx - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Franckx
Ads: Link
my jeans.
âThe neighbours?â I asked.
âTheyâre out.â
I fumbled a condom out of my wallet and slipped it on before hitching her skirt up. The time out of the saddle had made me greedy and keen, but I controlled myself and entered her slowly, an inch at a time, before giving her the lot in a final stroke. She moaned and rubbed herself against me, grinding against the stairs and my groin. She came before I did, and I decided to be a gentleman.
âWhy donât we finish this off somewhere more comfortable?â I suggested.
She nodded, eyes half closed, and we collected ourselves and headed up to her flat. There I was rewarded for my efforts: under the polite, nervous exterior was a girl whoâd clearly spent a lot of her time as a recent singleton reading sex manuals or learning from experts. She had an amazing appetite for all things male. She found three or four ways in which to come that Iâd only read about. For one orgasm, she had me lie back with my legs up, before she sat on my cock. The pressure made it taught against her inside, and she wriggled down so it was deep against her, stroking her G-spot against its head until she was screaming with pleasure.
After that, her small hands could not stay away from me. She bent over and let me fuck her from behind, but stopped me from coming with a swift tweak of the balls. She moved off me, then sucked me until I came in her mouth. For the next time, she rode me until she came, leaning back on my thighs while she pulled her own nipples hard. Then she sucked me off again and made me come on her tits, lick it up, and kiss it into her mouth.
Once weâd exhausted each other, she skipped away from the bed and put on a dressing gown.
âI donât want you to stay, I hope thatâs OK?â
Surprised, I looked at her.
âNo?â
âNo. Iâve had fun. I may call you.â
âYou may call me?â
âYeah. You know. If I want another fuck. Yeah?â
For the first time in my life, I felt dirty, and I felt used.
It was a wonderful feeling.
Chapter Fifteen
While the work situation didnât improve, my state of mind certainly did.
I soon realised that understatement was the way of the Web: anyone seeking a âlong-termâ relationship had a set of shackles already at hand. But at the other end, âfunâ or âno stringsâ was very often a free pass to a world of sexual enthusiasm.
It wasnât so much that people lied. I mean, some people did, from men alluding to improbable measurements to women skirting round the fact that they were trying to get impregnated, by anyone, now. It was more a matter of knowing your public.
I signed up with a couple of different sites; each seemed to have slightly different requirements, and slightly different clientele. One sight was photo heavy, so I loaded up an old pic from when I was trying to make a go of it as an actor. I was quite pleased with the effect, and the years hadnât been so hard that I could be accused of fraud.
Another site was more about chat and charm, so I cobbled together my best personal profile and sat back and waited. Again, I played up the self-deprecating humour and borrowed a couple of stories that friends had told.
Another site was more interactive, with people coming and going online, chats starting up and dates being arranged. Given my employment situation, I had time on my hands and no boss looking over my shoulder and forcing me into a speedy alt+tab manoeuvre.
Sitting in the pub with my laptop, waiting for either the jobcentre or one agency or another not to ring, I fashioned myself for my different audiences. And the results were impressive.
My professional photo on the website with lots of pictures seemed to have a particular strength: it got me dates with very posh girls. One girl was the daughter of some earl, duke or other nob. My father would probably know the title. Iâve never been very big on
âThe neighbours?â I asked.
âTheyâre out.â
I fumbled a condom out of my wallet and slipped it on before hitching her skirt up. The time out of the saddle had made me greedy and keen, but I controlled myself and entered her slowly, an inch at a time, before giving her the lot in a final stroke. She moaned and rubbed herself against me, grinding against the stairs and my groin. She came before I did, and I decided to be a gentleman.
âWhy donât we finish this off somewhere more comfortable?â I suggested.
She nodded, eyes half closed, and we collected ourselves and headed up to her flat. There I was rewarded for my efforts: under the polite, nervous exterior was a girl whoâd clearly spent a lot of her time as a recent singleton reading sex manuals or learning from experts. She had an amazing appetite for all things male. She found three or four ways in which to come that Iâd only read about. For one orgasm, she had me lie back with my legs up, before she sat on my cock. The pressure made it taught against her inside, and she wriggled down so it was deep against her, stroking her G-spot against its head until she was screaming with pleasure.
After that, her small hands could not stay away from me. She bent over and let me fuck her from behind, but stopped me from coming with a swift tweak of the balls. She moved off me, then sucked me until I came in her mouth. For the next time, she rode me until she came, leaning back on my thighs while she pulled her own nipples hard. Then she sucked me off again and made me come on her tits, lick it up, and kiss it into her mouth.
Once weâd exhausted each other, she skipped away from the bed and put on a dressing gown.
âI donât want you to stay, I hope thatâs OK?â
Surprised, I looked at her.
âNo?â
âNo. Iâve had fun. I may call you.â
âYou may call me?â
âYeah. You know. If I want another fuck. Yeah?â
For the first time in my life, I felt dirty, and I felt used.
It was a wonderful feeling.
Chapter Fifteen
While the work situation didnât improve, my state of mind certainly did.
I soon realised that understatement was the way of the Web: anyone seeking a âlong-termâ relationship had a set of shackles already at hand. But at the other end, âfunâ or âno stringsâ was very often a free pass to a world of sexual enthusiasm.
It wasnât so much that people lied. I mean, some people did, from men alluding to improbable measurements to women skirting round the fact that they were trying to get impregnated, by anyone, now. It was more a matter of knowing your public.
I signed up with a couple of different sites; each seemed to have slightly different requirements, and slightly different clientele. One sight was photo heavy, so I loaded up an old pic from when I was trying to make a go of it as an actor. I was quite pleased with the effect, and the years hadnât been so hard that I could be accused of fraud.
Another site was more about chat and charm, so I cobbled together my best personal profile and sat back and waited. Again, I played up the self-deprecating humour and borrowed a couple of stories that friends had told.
Another site was more interactive, with people coming and going online, chats starting up and dates being arranged. Given my employment situation, I had time on my hands and no boss looking over my shoulder and forcing me into a speedy alt+tab manoeuvre.
Sitting in the pub with my laptop, waiting for either the jobcentre or one agency or another not to ring, I fashioned myself for my different audiences. And the results were impressive.
My professional photo on the website with lots of pictures seemed to have a particular strength: it got me dates with very posh girls. One girl was the daughter of some earl, duke or other nob. My father would probably know the title. Iâve never been very big on
Similar Books
