In the end I was only at his place for probably fifteen minutes. And he managed two orgasms and I managed one. It was like sex aerobics on speed. Like he wanted to do six positions from the Joy of Sex in world record time. For some reason his behaviour set off my gaydar. Like he was secretly a gay boy who wanted to try women on the side - but quickly and without feeling.
He was fascinated by my swaying breasts in that cross-eyed crazy way a baby will watch a mobile swinging overhead. It didn't seem sexy. Just curious.
His room half lived up to my theory - exercise equipment right by the bed. But he was drinking beer and watching the Simpsons when I arrived, and I spotted a pair of girls shoes by his bed, so I was probably wrong. Maybe he just had a girl that liked only missionary. Or maybe she was small boobed.
He was such a mystery - so far I've been able to figure out a lot more about clients #1-4 and I think that's because they've been at my house, so I'm a tad more relaxed and able to focus on them without wondering if some guy is going to jump out of a cupboard behind me.
After his first orgasm - done in 30 seconds he offered me water. I made sure the bottle didn't have a broken seal. I had images of being drugged. Super paranoid perhaps, but better to be that then wake up raped or missing a nipple or something!
I decided he was so lacking in sexual prowess I wasn't going to come. But my Vajayjay is an easy bitch and I'd no sooner rolled on top of him then I was screaming. Small dick - right angle. Woah.
He came again after mucking about with pillows and odd positions, and then said I could go. I went back to my car, called Bell, and told her I was safe, the dress scored.
Easy money. Driving across the bridge had been harder work. Not for the first time did I wonder if I could go full time in this business.