Gigolo VI

 There are few things more beautiful to me than a pregnant woman. My newest client came to me because she wasn’t feeling beautiful and expressed that her husband was treating her like a leper. I’m no therapist, and I wouldn’t attempt to justify his behavior, but I did try to put myself in his position. Once I did and discussed with her his possible perspective and how he might have reservations because of the baby, she shut that down real quick and was adamant that it was way more than that, and she knew how she allowed herself to be marginalized way before this and made it clear she knew and didn’t want to discuss it. I took my queue and returned to what I do best and simply listened. 

On our first date, we went to this local and exclusive private place I know that is renowned for being just that. We created a back story that I was one of the OBGYNs in her group in case she ran into anyone, and we ate like two pregnant women without the guilt or shame she was apparently accustomed. I couldn’t understand how anyone wouldn’t want to ravage her, period. Especially once I was able to rekindle her natural high-pro glow as we just ate and laughed. A stunner by any standard, she is in her late twenties, of Jamaican descent, and had that light skin, red-boned look, long kinky curls, and greenish hazel eyes, and I couldn’t wait to taste her rich chocolate self. I felt bad for even charging her, but I felt that she was grounded in her situation and obviously intelligent, and like a lot of us, she had a process, and who was I to judge? We finished our brunch and retired upstairs to her room for dessert. 

Everything about her is delicious: her smell, her skin, and her re-kindled glow. I like to let my clients drive typically, but I kind of took the wheel because I was so excited to appreciate her in so many ways. I proposed an idea at brunch that I’d like to draw her. She agreed apprehensively, but I was able to talk her into it. It took more patience for me than her because I was so horny for her, but I also like to punish myself. She was so nervous and physically shaking when we entered the room. I took her into my arms and kissed her full, quivering lips until she softened. I slowly undressed her and thought it was so cute that she tormented herself with the new, skimpy, and lacey bra and thong she no doubt purchased for the occasion. I took my time appreciating every inch of her as she stood before me in all her glory. I kissed every inch of her while I waited for her skin to rebound from her undergarments, and she was perfect. She was surprisingly comfortable in her skin, nekkid in front of me, and that just reassured me that she wasn’t the problem. It was weird, but she even smelt like a baby, and I nearly got carried away until she asked, “Where do you want me?”

I was like oh yeah, and I walked to the comfy chase that was by the window, handed her a book as a prop, and sat her with a soft comforter from the bed. It took me mere minutes to sketch her, and I wish I could share that with you because not to pull my own chain, I’m pretty fucking good at it. She loved it and said that she’d forever keep that mental picture before she cried, kissed me with a passion that seemed to be buried deep, and began to undress me, stating that it was only fair. It was all very intimate, soft, and slow until she had me in the buff. Then she became more deliberate as her horniness caught up to mine. She became aggressive and pushed me onto the bed, and the tables turned. She stood there and looked down on me as if admiring her big game capture. She then kneeled next to the bed between my knees and lifted my already chubby cock like she was performing communion. I tried to suggest that she get off the floor, but she told me to “shut up,” which only made my cock harder. I was in heaven seeing her gorgeous full lips wrap around my cock while her curls bounced and cascaded down around her and tickled my thighs and undercarriage. Man, someone was certainly attempting to keep her down because she is a born firecracker. I wanted to see her fly and couldn’t imagine keeping her down unless it was under me. She was renewed in her confidence, and when she looked up to meet my admiring eyes with my cock in her mouth, I thought, “I can’t believe I get paid for this.”

She pulled her mouth off my bone like she was stripping a chicken wing and climbed up into the saddle before lowering herself slowly onto my cock. She was so happy that she slid down me like a greased pole. I can’t begin to tell you how beautiful she was on top of me. She was like chocolate ice cream in my cone. She cupped her swollen breast and threw her head back in ecstasy, and it was as if I was now the prop. It was so fucking beautiful to see her finally fly free. Her hands dropped from her breasts to her seven-month-pregnant belly, and she ran her hands over it like she was summoning a genie, and if she kept it up, she was going to get more than that. She saw my struggle and fed off it and lowered her hands again to my pecs for the leverage to break into a gallop. She was working it, and all I could do was suffer her grace and beauty as I quickly lost my composure and warned her. She smiled big and asked that I take her from behind. 

I assisted her out of the saddle, and this certainly isn’t an unconfident woman. She appeared to know her beauty and had renewed confidence as she tossed her hair and looked back at me, her face telling everything she wanted to convey. I attempted to slide some pillows under her belly, and once again, she shut me down with, “Just fuck me, please.” This wasn’t that to me, but I understood her point. My cock, on the other hand, heard her just fine as he jumped in my hand like a bucking bull in the gate. I pushed my painfully fat cock between her silky wet folds, and she was like a whole different person. She howled her appreciation for how I was hitting differently. She was certainly testing my fortitude, and I simply decided to join her. We all know, or should, how much better and freer sex is when you’re able to vocalize loud and proud. We were like two rowdy drunkards the way we were hoopin’ and hollerin’, slapping and clapping, and she came so hard that there was a whole cacophony of noises coming from her in queefs, screams and embarrassed apologies. It was my turn to tell her, “Shut up and do it again,” as I was rounding third and heading into home. “Fuck me harder then,” she demanded with a fun laugh, and I couldn’t tell you if she joined me, but I soon plowed into home plate so hard that I convulsed like I touched a live wire and continued to jump in aftershocks before I kissed down her back and fell beside her to catch my breath. She was a completely different person as she fell into my arms and stated, “Catch your breath, you still got work to do.” I smiled big this time, and my cock shook like a wet dog, ready to get back in the game. 

Happy Hump Day!