Sydney Australia Best Escorts

Sydney Best Escorts Stories: The Ex

Sydney Best EscortsIn three years of being an escort, I never thought this would happen. He lay there, comfortable and sure, and I was teetering on the sides. I was shivering inside, my emotions billowing like an unattended ribbon knotted on a tree in a storm. He didn’t recognise me, and I didn’t know what to feel about that. I was part-relieved and part-angered. It’s a relief for him not to recognise me as it would have been awkward, more so for me than for him. But I was also offended that not a flicker of acknowledgement passed his eyes. For crying out loud, it may have been seven years, but that does not mean someone just forgets the face of their ex!

He matured well. His roundish face was now chiselled, his golden skin shinier than I remembered, and he seemed to gain a few inches vertically. The result was a handsomer, more fuckable, darker version of himself. I had no idea he was still in Sydney, as last I heard he went back to Perth. I wondered briefly why he didn’t acknowledge me. I thought if it was because of my shorter, now blond hair. I wondered if it was because I was more tanned than I was before. Or if it were because of my newly-helmed cup C, size 36 boobs. For years, I have been one of Sydney’s best escorts, and part of that moniker is becoming prettier, sleeker, and bitchier.

So he didn’t recognise me. Not one bit. Big deal! I worked on that. It was an advantage on my part because that meant I would perform normally, without the awkwardness that came to having sex with someone you know and not expected to have sex with.

He still was as good as he was with the act. But along with his looks, his fucking also matured. His immediacy wasn’t there anymore; he wasn’t rushing, and was taking his grand old time. His touches were more strategic, more planned, designed to make his partner want him more. It was intoxicating; he was intoxicating.

When we finished, it was an unexpected bliss. His familiarity, the way he flopped down his body over mine, his steady breathing, and the mirth of his laughter, it was oddly domesticating. I became afraid all of a sudden. A feeling was coming over me, a familiar clench, a longing I have never felt for so long. But that emotion was fleeting. I was Sydney’s best escort, and if I learned anything, it was not to associate a good orgasm with some things. A good orgasm was just that: a good orgasm. Until he leaned over and whispered in my ear “I had to taste you one more time, babe”.

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