23 Seconds...

It didn't seem important at the time, but I noticed he was uncut. Unusual for an American-bred guy to be uncut. An unearthly amount of meat fell out of his boxers—an ungodly amount. So much that when I first spied it, I gasped, audibly. My reaction made him take notice of me and my position, completely naked splayed across the bed, knowing I was about to be ravaged.

The girth. The weight. The length. It wasn't at all like sausage, more like butternut squash. Two large ball sacs heavy with perhaps a week's worth of cum and waiting to be milked. They hung close to his body like two oversized genetically altered kiwi fruit, created by two sex-frenzied lab technicians. An experiment gone horribly right!

Both my mouths watered. Yet, I was fearful. He then began to gently stroke it, rub it, tug it, fondle it, as if it was a muscle he needed to stretch, getting it ready for a workout. He grabbed at it in a such a carefree manner, almost routine. His thumb pushing the foreskin over its head.

My lips parted and yet another heavy breath emanated from my mouth. I love to watch men masturbate. My heart raced. He was half-cocked. I guess the proper term is semi-erect.

He approached me much like a solider approaches the enemy for battle: slowly, carefully, strategically so as to not set off any booby traps. I lay waiting at the edge of the bed mesmerized by his gait and confidence. He knew. He knew exactly what he wanted. The only problem was I didn't know what it was. I slowly crawled backwards as he creeped forward, dick in hand.

"Relax," he breathed. Because to him this was so natural.

I tried. My knees bent in the air, my upper body propped up on my elbows. With authority, he spread my legs deftly, swiftly, not receiving any protest from me. By then, my own juices were dripping down my crevice and into the crack of my ass.

It was then became brave enough to touch him. He surrounded me--his arms on either side of my torso. My fingers traced his biceps. I imagined him working on a farm in the fields, chucking bales of hay into the silo. I knew from the suit lying in the floor that he had never stepped foot onto a farm. I lay back, submitting to him.

He began his approach and now he was coming in. He smelled my neck and licked and nibbled my earlobes. Like a ravenous vampire, he sucked on my neck, either side trying to find the right point with which to sink his teeth. While he suckled, I moaned. He slowly pulled back to get a better look at my quim. He noticed the drips on the sheets and he snickered to himself as he looked back up at me.

"So I guess you're ready?" I responded by slowly letting out a lust-filled sigh.

He assumed the position, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He looked up at me from over my abdomen. I peered over my mid-sized chest. His tongue was the first thing I felt, slowly working his way up and down my slit. I grew tense. He must've felt my uneasiness and repeated, "Relax."

He then lightly blew on my wet cunt. It felt divine. He continued with, "It's my turn to have my way with you," which is exactly what I didn't want to hear.

And then suddenly, I got excited. He stroked the inside of me using various deft techniques—working on my clit, sucking on it, tickling it, teasing it, lightly nibbling on it. Ooohh, it felt good so I became more nervous. I thought to myself, 'What happens when I come? I already feel like I'm losing control.' That was my fear—complete loss of control.

"You don't have to do this." I finally groaned after regaining some consciousness. "My job is supposed to be making you happy."

"You're job is supposed to be fulfilling my every desire," he said with a mouthful of cunt. "This is my fantasy. Fulfilling you. I get off most when my partner gets off." My only reply was the humming that came out of mouth, resembling a engine sputter. My eyes rolled back in head.

"Hmmmm---mmmmm---mmmm."

After, hitting my clit again, a feeling sprung up in my stomach. Butterflies. ‘Butterflies? In my stomach? What was I schoolgirl again? Why was that making me nervous?'

I let out a "Hnnnnnnnn," resembling a puppy whimper. He increased his lapping speed and thereby increasing the decibel level in my voice. He revved up the engine by adding new and improved head movements. It was too much! So much that I pulled back, leaning towards the head of the bed, for fear that I wouldn't be able to take it. He countered, by pulling me by my hips back down towards the edge of the bed. I tried to control it. Back it off, if possible. I felt it's inevitable resurgence. I squeezed my legs together in a feeble attempt to control the climax—feeble because his head was in the way. One more time. He licked my clit and that's all I needed. I had lost control and it was too late. He sent me.

My immediate reaction was my upper body springing to life. I shot up from my once rested position with a shriek.

Twenty-three. Twenty-three seconds. I counted. Complete with full body spasms, convulsions, writhing jerky movements. That's how long the orgasm lasted. That's how long it took me to recover. It felt like an hour. This was way too intense! I had to get out of here. I didn't realize then, but I came in his mouth. I'm not one for squirting, but he obviously pressed right buttons.

He cleaned the rest of me up with a fervor—lapping up my essence in seconds. I trembled from the chill in the air. It felt like my body temperature dropped all of a sudden. I lay back and curled up into a fetal position, still trying to recover from the orgasmic attack.

He lay beside me. I began to well up. While I cried, he began to kiss me, sucking on my lips. Lower lip then upper lip then lower again. He pried my mouth with his tongue open only to find my tongue limp, also still recovering. He brought it back to life by sucking on it. I could taste myself on him. I couldn't help but cry into his mouth. Complete loss of control. I felt revirginized. Is this what Madonna was referring to? Completely inadequate, feeble, and meek. I needed comfort.

Everything was throbbing: my anus, my lips, my vagina, my heart.

"I wanted you to feel every inch of an orgasm, every second—to extend the feeling and prolong it as long as possible. You're a gem. A star. A princess. You deserve to be treated as one. You need someone who finally can give you something, instead of always receiving." It was right about then that I fell asleep.

I didn't even think about it until the next morning. Last night, during the wild ride, his cock had taken a back seat. He never attempted to get off. Not once.

Eventually, he then took a shower, gathered his things, and he was ready for the day. I awoke to kiss on my eyelid.

As tender as he was, he was also terribly possessive. As he was closing his briefcase, he said a matter-of-factly, "Oh, and one more thing. Don't take on any more appointments. I'm the only customer you have from now on."

It didn't even occur to me to edit what was about to come out of my mouth.

"Yeah, right. And cut my business in half? I make five grand a week." Lie. "And that's a bad week." Another lie. He reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out a pen, and wrote me check equivalent to a month's worth of work. A good month! The best month I've ever had. Ever!

I felt like a cheap whore. Or I guess in this case, an expensive one.

"There. I'll see ya tomorrow." Followed by another tender kiss, this time on the lips. He scooted out of the hotel room and closed the door gently behind him. 'What? Was I married to this guy? What does he want from me?' I looked down at the check in my hands.

"Dammit." I said. "I'm stuck with guy."