Welcome to my new Stories/Blog Page

16th July 2024

Might an escort agency make my life easier?

London Privé Magazine

Hello!

I don't believe we've been introduced. My name is Lorna. I am a mature petite lady, with blonde hair and blue eyes that twinkle appealingly whenever she has a naughty thought.

(Spoiler alert: they twinkle rather a lot!)

When I say I am petite I mean it in terms of my height. I might have to stretch upward to kiss you, or perhaps even stand on tip-toe. I am not all that petite in other senses of the word; in fact, you might think of me as being voluptuous. Certainly, a lot of times when I stretch up to kiss a man, he is very likely to notice the exquisite sensation of soft, full breasts moulding into his chest. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

 I am normally based in the North West of England, but from time to time I do visit London, taking advantage of one of those short-let apartments. It's always lovely to see the sights and have new experiences in the capital, but I do find the administrative side can take the shine off things a little.

That's where www.london-prive.co.uk/en  comes into the picture, freeing me up to do more of the fun things, and making sure that the apartment was not double booked. (Not that I minded keeping out of the way in the spare room while a rather nice lady called Clara tied a visitor to the table and whipped him quite pitilessly, it was the prospect of paying for the room while it happened that was the snag. Clara and I laughed about it afterwards over a glass or two of wine, but I'll never look at odd dints in furniture quite the same way again!)

When I'm driving down to London, and the lines of red taillights are flickering in the drizzle of a busy M6, I find myself wishing there was a special type of helper, a "Man Friday", waiting to welcome me at my destination.  I would feel the cares of the journey lifting a little as I arrived and turned the ignition off with a sigh of relief.

I'd have texted ahead, so he would be waiting at the door. He would give me a hand in with my overnight bag - the ones that I put my various outfits in would stay in the car - and I would feel my shoulders untensing as I stood in the kitchen. There would be a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he would know right away that I was too tired for any other thoughts - well, not right now, anyway!

He would lead me into the large bathroom, with the high-flow shower, fed from a boiler that just kept producing hot water as long as the tap was running. He would bring a glass of wine in, then help dry me with a huge, warm bath sheet, maintaining self-discipline even in the face of my nudity, concentrating only on getting me dry, before leading me to the spare room to get my head down in between freshly-washed sheets.

I would wake later and sit up in bed, unsure at first of the time of day thanks to the way the blinds at the windows kept the room dark.  Feeling much recovered from the journey. I would get up, put on my silky dressing gown, then, tip-toe to the bedroom where my personal assistant was sleeping. I would slip under the duvet with him, then move close, resting quietly beside him as he slept. I can imagine I might doze off again myself, then a little later we would experience the delightful sensation of finding each other there - naked, warm, relaxed, fresh-smelling and smooth, and our thoughts would turn naturally to love-making.

We would touch each other's faces, smile, and then kiss. Gently at first, then deeper and more sensual, the urge for physical contact growing as we revelled in our shared warm bubble, and then the kisses would grow longer and deeper, as we both take pleasure that the giving of tongues will soon turn into something more intimate still!

Our hands would move from faces to torsos, then work inevitably down to our groins. My fingers would curl, warm and soft around his cock, and his would, in turn, move down there, first of all touching around me, then moving inside me. In an unspoken pact, we would both work to bring the other to climax, trying to arrange the timing so that we could come together while we kissed.

His touch would be skilful, and I would feel myself growing close. I would curl my fingers into a fist, with a hollow inside that would fit smoothly over the head of his cock, and once there I would increase the speed of my hand; just at the same time as he put another finger between my pussy lips and stroked me just so, on that special sensitive point that would bring me to the boil. I would push closer as he fingered me, and he would feel my firm, proud nipples against his chest, my body twitching and writhing.

I would win the race to orgasm by a short head, but the way I jerk and push and writhe as I lose control of my body wouldn't be lost on him, and within seconds I would feel the lovely liquid warmth on my fingers that tells he has come as well. The warm glow I have inside is still making me tingle as I gently slide my fingertip over the head of his cock, feeling the semen glueing itself to my hand.

We would reluctantly rise for breakfast an hour and a half later, and when I had finished my toast and marmalade, I would feel well and truly set up for whatever the day might bring. I'd have some of his semen in my tummy, and perhaps even a little dripping naughtily into my cleavage as I move. I'd also have the memory of three of my own orgasms to give me a warm glow all day, a glow I could happily share with my clients.

Now that's the kind of level of service that beats checking into a chain hotel!