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A New York Escorts Confessions
The Pleasure Pit
So I went back with him to his apartment. It was tasteful, well appointed one might say. Floors so shiny you could probably fix your lipstick in their reflection. Glass and leather with empty spaces between them. Floor to ceilings windows looking out to the river. It looked like a model apartment, maybe even a hotel room. No one really seemed to live there.
And then he ushered me into the bedroom.
Or maybe I should call it ‘the boudoir’. Because for everything impersonal and cold in the other rooms, whoever decorated the apartment had made up for it in spades in this one. The window was blacked out. The walls were covered with red velvet. The bed was sunken, engulfed by fifty some odd pillows in jewel tones. There was a cashmere throw at its foot.
Everything suggested touch, as if clothes shouldn’t even be permitted within its confines. I unlaced my boots, rolled down my tights. He pushed my dress up over my breasts. I felt the lush silk against my bare back, my feet sunk into the creamy throw. I gave in to texture—the smooth tip of his cock, his wiry hair against my thigh, down pillows and cashmere slipcovers caressing my cheek, my waist. My nails slipping slowly down his tailbone until they found their way inside of him.
His girlfriend had had a vision, he told me later. She dreamed about the boudoir, thought they should give it life together. They shopped in secret over the Internet, came home early from work to lay down the velvet, dried roses for potpourri which they then sprinkled around the bed while they worked. When the room was finished, they spent the whole of a week there, watching porn, ordering in food, giving themselves every pleasure they could
think of. Ice cream, chocolates, fried pickles, peach schnapps, whatever whim or memory or thought came to mind.
It was a nice story. When he was done I asked him what had happened to his girlfriend.
“Oh she’s at work,” he said haphazardly.
I wonder if she knows someone else has been allowed into her secret world. I wonder if she’ll smell me when she’s rearranging the throw. I wonder if that’s the way he likes it.
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confessionsComments
wow, that is so sad and depressing. That anyone can so callously and casually betray someone they care about like that.
Posted by specialfriend on Dec 30 07:15PMPost a Comment

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about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
- Selling Out (Part III)
- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)


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Holy Christ... Last night I did the EXACT SAME THING!
Posted by Funky Fresh Freddie on Dec 5 07:56PM