It probably wouldn't surprise you to hear I see myself more as a "quality" lady than a "quantity" lady. What was it they said about that Belgian lager - it's "reassuringly expensive"? Not that I consider I am really expensive, it's just I feel that the little extra you may pay for my time and companionship gets you rather more than the basic service! Take a look at my latest photoset, for example, while I tell you a little something about the gentleman involved.
He is a regular client, a good friend of mine and a man who does appreciate my little extra touches. As usual, Kenneth - I'll call him that - spent some time discussing our forthcoming meeting. Not all of my gentlemen friends do this, by any means, but although I can generally conjure up a suitably happy ending without specific dress instructions, a client who is clear on how he'd like me to dress can make my life easier and the meeting go more to our mutual satisfaction. I can fit in with his wishes and desires, knowing that he will be more likely to enjoy our time together if he has considered and come up with a preferred outfit for the occasion.
Kenneth has this down to a T. I won't go into all the details, but I'll give you a flavour of things.
"What top should I wear?"
"Well, overall I'm thinking more of a Lorna Black than a Lorna Blu."
"OK, I think I have just the very thing. It's quite a sensible blouse, really, but it has this gorgeous satin sheen to it and diamante buttons."
"The kind of black that looks good if a lady were to take a load into her mouth, then gently push it out so that it slips smoothly over her plump, shiny red lips and drops and spatters onto the swell of her breast, perhaps even onto her thighs, in thick white dribbles...?"
"I suppose it would. So, you're planning to do that, are you. You make me sound a little like a candelabra! What about if I tell you I'm planning to let you come in my mouth, then look into your eyes, say your name and then slowly swallow? You know how much I love the flavour of your sperm."
(I can't really describe the noise he made down the phone at this point, but I think it told me he liked the idea!)
"OK...and on your legs?"
"Fawn leggings, I thought. And maybe flip-flops."
"Well, you know what I Iike, and I know what you like. I was just teasing a little! Of course, it will be the usual, stockings, seamed Gios? Perhaps I could get you to check that the seams are nice and straight? Black, I assume?"
(Was it my imagination or had I heard the quiet "vrrr" of a zipper being eased down? I carried on.)
"And I thought the heels you bought me? The ones where I pushed the toe between my pussy lips a little, then made you put it into your mouth..."
"There is one thing with those shoes though, darling..."
"And that is...?"
"Well, I was thinking, if we stand in front of the mirror again, and I bendÃâÃÂ over keeping my legs straight, so you can admire their reflection as I go down on you, I do need to bend very low if I'm going to get your cock all the way into my throat."
(I imagined the jolt as he heard me say that.)
"So you'll have to be nice and hard for me, my sweetheart. Can you manage that?"
(I knew that wouldn't be a problem for Kenneth, but I just wanted him to think a little!)
"Perhaps I can check as soon as we get into the room, darling. Just slowly press my hand into your crotch."
(He seemed to have given up all pretence of dignity.)
"Kenneth! I do hope you're not masturbating there!"
"What, no, just...adjusting my position..."
"Well, don't adjust it too much! I'm looking forward to getting a lot of spunk out of you when we meet. Do you know what I think I might do?"
"I think I'll go into the room with you. The instant the door closes I will turn to face you -not too quickly, mind, and take a step towards you. Close enough that our chests might meet if we both breathe in together. I will touch your cock, to make sure I have your interest, then I will lean in that fraction closer and French kiss you. Deeply. All right so far?"
"The last time I kissed you, I distinctly remember your cock twitching when I put my tongue in your mouth. So I am going to do it again, as much tongue as I can give you. Filling your mouth. Then, when I can sense you wondering if I'll ever let you breathe again, I'll unzip you, release you, and bend down to suck you to full hardness."
"Kenneth! Are you sure you're not wanking?"
"No, Lorna, no. I promise."
"Good boy! Because when I have got you stiff enough, I will get onto the bed, show you my body in all its finery, then invite you to do something with me. Do you know what?"
There was a pause, then a voice that seemed to have just the right amount of wonder and desire.
I counted to three, then whispered four words. Each distinct, separate and unmistakable.
"Whatever. You. Fucking. Want."
There was silence for a second or two, and I was a little concerned I may have overdone things.
I laughed, but gently. With affection, not ridicule.
"So that's tomorrow, right? Six o'clock. And remember - no wanking!"
In hindsight I probably did over-egg the pudding a little on the phone call. The next night he made it through the door, the touching, the deep kissing part. He even managed to get through my straight-legged blow job, eyes drinking in the sight of my stocking-clad legs as I took his cock deep into my mouth. But then, just as we were on the bed getting slightly better acquainted, his body suddenly stiffened and he gave a long moan as I felt jet after jet of hot cum flowing over my calf, drenching the black nylon in thick, potent gobbets of silvery-grey semen.
He looked a little apologetic, but I told him it was a lovely compliment. There was no way he faked that orgasm!
Or the other two I gave him that night, come to that...
Love and kisses,
Lorna Blu xxx