In every romantic relationship there is the expectation of give and take, whether it be the wine and dine, take in a movie, weekly roses exchange for bedroom play of the dating game, or the contractual obligations within a life-time of marriage that require a mutual banking account and the eventual bond and responsibilities of offspring. Is the definition of romance the same when you dare to date a high class escort?
When moving into multiple encounters with an escort babe of your choice, what other priorities, apart from an often hefty amount of money, are expected to maintain the pleasure of the presence and the pussy of a first class honey that could make the grade as an A-list movie star or grace the covers of any high-fashion magazine.
When does a contractual encounter with a high class escort become a romance?
For me, it takes a minimum of five dates of an intensity that might find me and my client exploring every orifice and aspect of each other’s bodies, licking and tasting, sucking and clasping in interlocking embraces so intimate that we forget everything except for the wave of orgasmic bliss we are riding; and the salt taste of our lover’s kiss and flesh is the only thing occupying our minds.
I’m a twenty something brunette beauty with the most lustrously dark hair dropping to the small of my back, the most lustful and smouldering brown eyes complementing an angelic face, the most sensuously cherry lips, and with lithe and elegant legs that offer the taste of the sweetest flesh on the insides of my thighs, and the promise of a pussy so beautiful you’d do anything to penetrate its sugar walls to peak my delight.
I’m also a high class escort in the highest demand at Le Penthouse Suite, the glitter strip’s premiere pleasure palace and one of the finest bordello’s in the southern hemisphere. And a very select number of my clients have managed to capture my romantic interest beyond the standard contractual encounter of escort and client. How did they do it?
I may offer my client the near unimaginable pleasure of having my body in every aspect and way possible, and allow them to consummate their lust inside me in an erotic encounter that will remain the light of their loins for a lifetime, but to capture my romantic heart requires a bit more than just sucking, licking, eating and penetrating me to the break of dawn.
I like the prelude to the final bedroom intimacy promised by my status as high class escort.
Like any ordinary romance, flowers, chocolates and a classy but intimate restaurant score high points in my feminine fancy for the rogue who is charming me at the time. A walk on the beach by moonlight, a stroll in a park blessed by a gentle breeze, a limousine ride to our destination of desire, the acknowledgement of an overnight encounter that will find us touching tender places in post-coital bliss and gazing into each other’s eyes on plumped up pillows that may muffle our whispered promises of endless love.
Within the prelude to consummate intimacy, I’ll discover whether I’m into my client enough to entertain the notion of a romantic relationship, through our conversation, our eye contact, our moments of tendresse and the frissons of lust that power a mounting and mutual desire for each other. He doesn’t have to be overly handsome.
Although my beauty always and immediately entrances my client, my client himself doesn’t have to be the male equivalent of my physical perfection. He does though, have to have an erotic charisma and charm about him, and he does have to defer to me in a gentlemanly show of desire, with cuddles and kisses, and a conversational sharing of personal history that reveals to me the type of person he is.
Then there is the consummation of our lust.
I generally like my client to take the lead in the bedroom, to express his desire for this beautiful body with an uncontainable lasciviousness that finds him eating my sex like the most voracious predator I’ve ever encountered, and tasting my flesh with suck marks and nibbles like he wants to devour me over days of erotic excess, and penetrating my tight clean pussy to the point where he punches through my G-spot and is so deep inside me that I’m babbling deliriously like a feverish child. I like him to manhandle me to the extreme and to bring me to the point of an ongoing orgasmic bliss that has me powerless like a rag doll in his powerful arms, with sex bruises in the most intimate areas of my body, and that mark his ownership of me. If my client has taken me to the point where I am supplicant to his every erotic and sexual desire, then I think that there is the possibility of romance. Then there is the beginning of the courtship.
This courtship usually takes place over five or so encounters
By then I’ll know whether I could entertain a romantic relationship with my client, whether I’d allow him to call me at any time just to shoot the breeze and ask what lingerie I’m wearing. This doesn’t happen often. Some clients have seen me for years, and have never crossed the threshold into romantic relationship territory. Many of them want to. I have sugar daddy proposals and promises of looking after me for a lifetime from client after client, but I always refuse. The clients that manage to capture my heart and to become my long term lovers are far and few between, and the blossoming of our contractual agreement into romantic lust and desire usually occurs within five dates. And do these romantic relationships last? As a rule, courtesans of first class affectation never kiss and tell, so you’ll just have to capture my fancy and become my lover to find out.
