Sketchy Sex At The Hotel With A Little Sugar On Top…*

Sketchy Sex At The Hotel With A Little Sugar On Top Sketchy sex with a man I just me. Dear Perverts, you ever notice anything…interesting about me? Let me...
sketchy sex
You can't blame me for my curiosity. I just like...things.

Sketchy Sex At The Hotel With A Little Sugar On Top

Sketchy sex with a man I just me. Dear Perverts, you ever notice anything…interesting about me? Let me tell it to you straight – my boy toys are usually guys I know pretty well. Granted, not always – but it’s like this…you don’t go to the same restaurant all the time, but you probably have several favorites. Me and my dining metaphors, I know…but it’s true. Besides my regular slutting around, I don’t catch too many curve balls…that is, unless I start to get curious.

I blame you, perverts.

 

You’ve been bothering me all year to escort, meet you, fly to where you are, go on trips…and it’s all very flattering, don’t get me wrong. I never really wanted to be that kind of girl…I’ve been offered money for sex multiple times and turned it down…but then of course, knowing me, I started to get curious. What’s that world all about? I mean, the truth is, we all love sex and we all love money. I got to thinking…should I try exchanging my companionship for a little cash? So I want to try it once just to see if it’s hot or just creepy.

 

So I did what any escort-in-denial would do, I tried sugar dating.

 

Those of you who seek arrangements, you know where I went to look for dates. I wasn’t in for anything long term, just checking things out. I’m not into dating sites usually, but I thought…why not? As it turns out, there’s a reason why not. So I got off the site and decided to hit the street. The upscale hotel bar, that is.

 

Rule number one: Dress the part.

 

For you novice pervs, this doesn’t mean what you think. It’s easy to attract dogs – what I’m looking for is a man. You know I’m a quality AND quantity girl. So I didn’t get dressed up. Show a little taste and that’s what I’ll attract, I thought. But it turns out, as it usually does, a horny man is a horny man. And a regular man can be turned into a horny man by any gorgeous woman, no matter what she’s wearing.

 

My horny man’s name is Patrick.

 

We make some conversation at the bar and I learn he’s the CEO of a medical software company and he’s in town to onboard his management team for a new launch. The naturally curious person that I am, I look for any sign of a personality and if this man knows how to flirt. Turns out, there’s a genuine spark. So we exchange numbers and he asks if we can meet on his day off. I agree although I don’t usually go out on dates with strangers. But I suppose the end justifies the means when it comes to a man that I know I’m never going to see again. A date. They’re always so awkward. But whatever…

So we meet for a nice, intimate lunch.

 

Patrick doesn’t seem to be in any kind of rush, and I take that as a great sign. He suggests we go to the conservatory or check out a matinee…and now I’m starting to get antsy. Getting wined and dined is lovely but I don’t usually let strange men do this with me. I’m ready to get his clothes off, brace myself for what might be in his pants, have my bucket-list encounter, get paid for my sketchy sex and then go home to file it away. But the conservatory. Yes, the conservatory sounds great.

 

Patrick is very nice, a perfect gentleman, but I decide to turn the heat up a bit.

 

I know that looking at exotic plants with the man is part of the experience, but I’m getting impatient. I’ve been to the conservatory with men. I have had sex, too. Lots of it. Okay, wait. What am I doing? Focus, Justice. Focus. So while Patrick’s admiring the stephanotis floribunda, I come up behind him with a surprise. I whisper in his ear, “so…you like sweet-smelling flowers?” and he looks at me. I sneakily slide my thong into his hand and say, “I picked these for you”, and start to slink away and I think, I’m definitely the sketchy sex predator among us…

 

When we’re leaving, he says, “I do hope you are planning on giving me a reason to hold on to these panties.”

“Consider it an invitation and repondez, s’il vous plait.” So this is the sugary world of flirting for cash? Not just awkward innuendos that lead to terrible, sketchy sex? I can deal with this.

 

We get in the car and he asks if he can have me for the rest of the afternoon.

 

The main course, finally, I think. Now I get to find out what this action is really about. We get to his hotel room and I realize I’m in it to win it now. At the point of no return. Whatever this dude is into I’m to oblige, because I’m not a quitter. He kisses me deeply, passionately, quite a good kisser and puts me up against the wall and looks deeply into my eyes and whispers, “I don’t have any…you know…I don’t have any rubbers…is that okay?”.

 

Fuck. Of course. No rubbers. Rich guys NEVER have rubbers. Is it really okay?

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Sketchy sex with a one-night sugar daddy. Sure, it’s fine.

I finally get his pants off and…

 

Holy fuck. Maybe I’m shallow, but when I see a cock as gorgeous as Patrick’s I forget about condoms. Skin to skin is the only way. It’s something primal, I guess. I don’t know what it is, but when the dick is really good, I just have to let a man cum inside me. I’m practically begging for it. But I don’t know this guy and I’m not on birth control. Who would have thought this mild-mannered, cultured CEO would have dick for days? And who would have thought he actually knew what to do with it? He fucked me so good that my legs were weak and he held me up by my throat, whispering how good my pussy felt around his cock.

I was getting it in a way I don’t often get it, like a bitch in heat, with a guy I didn’t know at all. Without protection. Definitely sketchy sex. Just thinking about Patrick cumming inside me was intoxicating. I completely lost myself in the against the wall pussy pounding – it felt so good that I came violently all over his cock, eyes rolling back in my head, squirting…I gave him everything. Once all of that orgasmic pressure in my cunt had been pounded out, I started begging him to cum inside me. We had a hot repartee about him giving me all his cum deep in my pussy, filling me to the hilt, and then he gave me a slow creampie and I felt his cock throbbing and it pumped me full of seed. I felt like my womb was opening up to swallow every last drop.

My fucking god.

 

He had to meet his business partner for a last-minute brush up for their presentation, but I was welcome to stay and have a bath. Cha-ching, I thought. He’s definitely not new to this. 

“Thank you,” I said. He took a quick shower and got dressed, and I started to draw a bath. He told me I was welcome to stay and enjoy the room while he was gone. We kissed and he left. I enjoyed a luxurious bath and a couple of glasses of champagne and noticed he had put an envelope near my bag with my name on it. I waited until I had thoroughly savored the experience and was back at my own cozy apartment before I assessed how much this experience was worth to Patrick.

 

He left me a sweet note…and a very sweet stack of money, considering I didn’t stay overnight. And another unexpected detail…he wants to go out again. Maybe this sketchy sex experiment is actually legit.

 

“I come through town quite a bit, it would be great to do this again.” Oh god. This was a hot experience, but I’m just not this kind of girl…or am I? I mean I do have goals…

 

Hot phone sex with a girl who will try anything. Doesn’t that sound rich?