Former Playboy Playmates Part 7 Alyssas Journey
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I wait at the corner, admittedly looking for Grant’s car in particular. I get a couple of bids for some hotel action, but I hold off for tonight. Tonight, I hope Grant and his big, fat, thick wallet returns.
Finally, I spot the car I’m looking for pulling up to the curb. I straighten my clothes and start walking towards it when the passenger door swings open.
“Get in,” Grant says, his voice tight.
It was nice while it lasted, I think as I slide in and shut the door. He’d probably realized I’d taken way too much of his money, and now he was going to get what he’d really paid for.
“So,” I say, prepared for the worst. “You’re back.”
He nods, and his face is… soft. Vulnerable. Maybe I wasn’t in for a rough time after all.
“I am, for a number of reasons,” he says.
I smile, leaning in toward him. “And what reasons are those?”
He pushes his face toward mine, and our lips connect in a startlingly gentle kiss. After a moment, I feel his hand on my leg, and I pull back.
“Ah, ah… That was just a freebie for being a returning customer. Watch that hand unless you’re willing to pay for it.”
He laughs and pulls back. “How much?”
I shrug. “Depends on what you want. I’ll let you touch me for a hundred, since you seem to like it so much.”
I did, too, but I am hardly going to admit that. I can tell he’s really thinking for a moment. This is almost surreal. When is the shoe going to drop?
“My body is yours for the right price,” I add with a cheeky grin.
His eyes dip down and he licks his lips. “Can we just go with the hand job tonight?”
“You, me, or both?” I smile and place a hand on his thigh. My fingers drag along the seam of his pants, stopping just before reaching his crotch. “Tonight, since I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you have both at no extra charge.”
“Well, if you’re feeling generous, how can I say no?” He leans in to kiss me.
I meet his lips with eagerness. Holy shit, this could really work out. If all he wanted was some low-key making out and grabby hands in his car, maybe that new savings account wouldn’t look so stupid and empty after all.
Soon, my hands find their way into his pants, and I’m stroking his cock while he plays with my nipples. It’s not nearly as good as where his hands could be, but I’m happy to let him do whatever he wants at this point.
To be honest, I don’t normally allow so much kissing, but it’s different in a thrilling way. My other hand slips down to gently massage his balls to elicit a low moan from him. He moves his head to kiss my neck, which I find I really don’t mind at all.
He trails his hands down my front and pulls me out of my tight pants. Then his mouth follows, kissing along my sternum. As he moves, he shifts back in his seat to where I can’t jerk him off.
“Grant,” I warn. “What are you—”
He licks a stripe from base to tip of my length, and I moan.
A real, actual, sincere moan.
What in the name of fuck is happening? I have no idea how to charge for this. No client has ever wanted to before.
He begins to suck as I lean back and decide to just enjoy the ride. I take a moment to appreciate his mouth around my dick, before I put my hands in his hair and push him down further.
It’s quickly apparent that he’s no expert at this, but that hardly matters when it’s free. My fingers clench in his hair as I try not to fuck his throat like people did mine. He would choke and who knew what else.
No, I just try to massage his scalp and donʼt hold back my moans as he tries his best. It’s not long before I reach my limit and, with a grunt, I hit my orgasm before I can warn him. He’s unprepared, but still manages to keep from choking. He pulls back and coughs a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I take a moment to find my voice. “I, uh…” I swallow. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Thank him? Pay him?
He moves upward and kisses me before I can figure out what to say. I give in, wrapping my arms around his neck and just enjoying the moment for what it was.
A really great fucking moment.
"You didn’t seem to mind,” he mumbles against my lips.
“You want to know how much I didn’t mind?” I reach down to grab his erection. “Lean back and let me show you.”
He blinks and says a little awkwardly, “You, uh, don’t have to.”
“I know.” I press a hand to his chest and gently push him back, then shift in my own seat to lean down. “But I want to.”
And, for once, I actually mean it.
I don’t drag it out like I normally do, stopping and starting and denying and torturing. Tonight, I worship his dick like it’s the best I’ve ever had in my mouth. It kind of is, in a way.
He’s already leaking. I tease the head with little circular licks before I grab his hips and take him as far as I can. It’s hard to breathe when I’m already out of breath, but I manage to keep at it long enough for him to start to tense up.
“Oh, shit… I’m…” he tries to warn, but it’s too late.
I swallow every bit down until he gently pushes at my shoulders, and I lick my lips and look up at him. “Well, Grant, anything else you want off the menu tonight?”
“You,” he says simply, grabbing my face in his hands and pulling me into a hard kiss.
He doesn’t taste like cigarettes or beer, I notice for the first time. He tastes like mint-flavored gum. Did he chew gum before he drove over to my corner? Did he do that just for me?
My heart skips a beat. I want to just melt into the moment, but I know it’s a lie. He’s just buzzing with post-orgasm endorphins.
No one really wants me. Not all of me, anyway. They want my hands, or my mouth, or my ass. Not my heart. Not my mind. Not any other part of me.
I’m fine with that, of course. I don’t hate myself for being a dirty little slut that other men pay to use. I don’t mind that I’m just another whore, that others will come before me and more will come after.
Okay. I mind a little bit. But then I get paid, and I don’t mind as much.
I play along, however, and pull back from his lips to laugh softly. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think you could afford that.”
He laughs. “Well, what’s your price, then?”
I pause.
I almost want to believe him. But I’ve never let my heart get broken before, and I refuse to start now.
So I shrug casually, as if it were obvious. “Three thousand a week.”
His eyes go wide. “A week?”
“Minimum.” I smile, patting his knee as he sits back and looks like I’ve just asked him for a kidney. “I told you. You can’t afford me.” I reach for the passenger door and push it open. “But I’ll be here for what you can afford.”
I take a few steps away when I realize I forgot to get paid.
Seriously, what is wrong with me? I never forget the money. It is the only reason why I do this.
I swallow and keep walking, heading home instead of to my corner, trying not to acknowledge the weird thought that I'm okay with not taking his money tonight.
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