Angry sex

He was so unprepared. We exchanged several emails prior to our first meet. He wanted to know a little more about me as I did of him. I pointed out the obvious, my lack of flesh in the bust. It’s something I like to bring to a client’s attention prior to meeting so as to prevent him from being disappointed. He wasn’t concerned. We talked about my blog, the things I write about why I enjoy my time as an escort. He asked about my typical clients and how I pass judgment as to who I will and will not see. I expressed my concern for fetish requests or clients who ask for a certain service I do not provide. I am always quite open when a prospective client emails me.

This is the time to be honest and upfront, on both our parts. I told him I am not an aggressive PSE, preferring the more passionate intimate experience. It is why I do what I do for that is what I am looking for and what had led me to Belle in the first place. I did my best to give him an accurate expectation of what our time together would be like.

The morning of. I woke up to find my kids had destroyed the roses I had brought home with me from the funeral home after my grandmother had passed away. I was devastated. The one thing I have specifically told them was of limits. Mom was now officially in a “back the hell away” kind of mood. I sat at my laptop with my timmies and simmered over it for 3 hours. Trying to turn the day around I decided to take the kids out for a walk down the parkway. We loaded into the car and took the ten minute drive to the falls. My teenager decides this is the moment to test who is in control. She refuses to get out of the car. I raise my voice. She again refuses. I point the finger, raise the voice and make it very clear it’s do or die. She chose not to do. BIG MISTAKE!
I don’t know what really happened next but I do remember a few foul words leaving my pursed lips. I ordered the other kids back into the car and all the way home I shouted out my teenage daughter’s summer plans. Housework and lots of it. No computer, no cell phone, no dances, no……..I was a raging lunatic. The nerve of her, I kept telling myself. How dare she? Stomping my feet up the driveway and into my house I just couldn’t calm myself down. I think it was then that I realized I had lost all control.

I demanded that my teenager head to the basement where the laundry awaits her. Then I hopped into the shower. I grabbed my loufa and scrubbed so damn hard I could feel the layers of skin slough off till I was red all over. And still, over and over in my head was the constant replaying of my teenager’s words “You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do!”…..and the anger just grew. Even worse, I sent her down to do laundry without thinking of the need for hot water as I showered. The rush of cold water just pissed me off more. I shut off the tap, grabbed a towel and half dried off, headed to my room. Slamming drawers, I found my black lace knee highs and black and white summer dress I planned on wearing. This is where my excitement usually begins, as I dress for the appointment, anticipating the time we will share. But not today. Today it was just a nuisance. Today I would have to play the sweet pleasant Belle he likely expects because of those damn emails I had sent him. For once, I was really hoping he was an asshole.

I didn’t even bother with the usual fuss over my hair. I gave it a quick tussle, running my fingers through to rid a few knots. Good enough. I stormed through the house grabbing my keys and smokes and headed for the door. The first stop light I put on my powder, the second light my eye liner and the third light, my lipstick. I arrived in the parking lot before I was finished my smoke. He would have to wait. After all, I was 4 minutes early. I banged on the door, not the usual “da dada da da” rap I introduce my arrival with either. Bang, bang, bang…the fuck you ordered is here dammit.

He opened the door and I walked in, mumbling the usual nuances as I threw my purse on the night stand. I didn’t check for the donation or scan the room for anything out of the ordinary as I usually do when first meeting a client. I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him with my legs and pressed my lips against him so damn hard I doubt he could breathe. I decided I wasn’t in the passionate intimate mood I had him prepared for. I wasn’t in the room 2 minutes and I had his pants down to his knees. Giving him the deepest most aggressive blow job I have ever given, I ripped my dress off myself taking only a short break to hop up and grab my purse. He seemed at a loss for words. I looked up at him once and gave myself a bit of a chuckle as he seemed kinda scared. I didn’t care. You asked for me, you got me. He didn’t dare make a move, I was clearly in control. At least someone understood that.

Covered up, I rode him like I doubt he has ever been ridden before. I screamed, I grunted and even blurted out a few obscenities from time to time. I told him what I wanted him to do, and he did it without hesitation. When I got tired, I made him work. Fuck me and you damn well better make it good and hard! And he did. He sweat, I sweat. For one full hour we said nothing that did not involve a sexual demand. I came, he came, and I came again. When I was done, I was done. There was no cuddling under the sheets after, no holding hands or deep conversation. I hopped in the shower, cold water only and cooled my body down. I grabbed the towel, walked still dripping into the room to get dressed. He still lay there on the bed, not saying anything….well, nothing that made much sense anyways. I picked up the handful of twenties and stuffed them in my purse, gave him a quick kiss and was out the door. It hadn’t hit me till half way through the drive home that I just totally fucked this guy. I used him to vent my frustrations; get rid of my anger and all without a care in the world what he thought about that. And I loved it! It really is all about me, I’m such a bitch.