So it must be Grandpa Week. Or maybe just pension week. I got an offer I thought was a joke a few days ago. An insane amount of money to spend the night with a business man travelling. Twelve hours was the deal. 7pm - 7 am so I could get up and go to my dayjob. It did strike me in some way as working 24 hours straight but I was up for it.
The hotel was in a suburban area, very nice for the area. He'd booked a corner suite with spa and king size bed. He was mid to late fifties, but didn't look it. He was really nervous. But keen. He basically wanted to see me enjoy myself. Spa, order wine, room service, eat with him and laugh in our pyjamas. Lovely. He had some stupid opinions that made me choke on my room service, and I realised how hard twelve hours may be.
But it turned out he was also amazingly educated on the history of prostitution and the way they were respected in other cultures. Then he went into stories about his life - a loveless arranged marriage that was breaking down, issues with sex drummed into him by his culture, work pressures, aging issues. It was fascinating talking to him about these things and he's probably the first client to treat me as royalty. Like I should be worshiped for the services I provide.
His culture also made him really, really love BBW gals. He pinched my rolls, lifted my breasts. I felt like a prized heifer being admired at market. He said things like "You are perfect, not an inch of fat on you." Um, sure. All 215 pounds and no fat?! What was I then? According to him, "Stunningly plump", and "should never be allowed on the street alone for all the attention I'd get from men."
He bathed me in the spa, which sounds a little creepy but he was giggling and stroking me, loving the feeling of my curves. At then he said in awe, "Oh, where's that belly button? I'll have to lift your stomach to find it to clean."
For him - another compliment on my abundance. Now, I may work hard at fat acceptance and all of that self-esteem stuff, but I was mortified at that comment. Eek.
Luckily pushing my boobs towards a man's mouth always makes him shut up, then I steered us onto the bed for a massage. Yes, he almost fell asleep. He rolled over, asked me to masturbate for him and watched me. Then wanted some oral sex..but couldn't really get it up. We put some porn on, but no joy. In the end he asked for a hand job and we were done.
It was really only twenty mins maybe of sexing. A few hours of conversation, bathing and eating. And then lights out at 10pm.
I felt so guilty for taking such an obscene amount of money. Then the snoring started. Holy fuck. It was worse than SplenDaddy. He was kinda embarrassed by it so would try and stop himself by jerking or kicking a leg. So all night it was SNORE. Kick. Silence. Just when I'd start to relax then into the silence - SNORT. SNORE.Kick. Silence. REPEAT.
I got no sleep. At 6.30am he asked me if I'd had a peaceful night. I lied and said yes. He told me I could head off early if I liked and I was out of there!
Fistfuls of cash. Me sitting in a car park at dawn stuffing it into an overnight bag. Heading to my day job with all of the other commuters. Surreal.