The Escort and the Dirty Conscience - Sex Stories

The Escort and the Dirty Conscience

... street from the movie theatre we had just come from. Even the film he had chosen somehow seemed uninspired. It was the predictability of life that was beginning to weigh on me. It was the knowledge that this was just another Friday night being his sweet college girlfriend. I glanced at him as we walked back to his apartment. He was still the same Seth I had known and loved since junior high school. Why didn’t it seem like it was enough any more? Once inside his apartment, he flicked on the television, the way he normally did on a Friday night, but instead of cuddling up with him on the sofa, I went to the kitchen. “Want a drink?” I called. “Uhm… sure,” he said, already distracted by his channel surfing. I seized the bottle of vodka from the fridge and poured a shot for myself first. I drank one, and then another, enjoying the hot burn down my throat. Then I set about making two vodka sodas, rather heavy handed with my own. I was already feeling the beginnings of that first intoxicated swoon of inebriation. I found myself smiling and suddenly more relaxed. I handed Seth his drink, and we clinked glasses. He looked up at me as I crawled towards him on the sofa, with a kind of bemused surprise. “Already drunk after one sip?” he laughed, as I slid my hands up his thighs with uncharacteristic aggression. “Maybe,” I teased playfully. I didn’t want to tell him I’d downed all those shots in the kitchen, but I’m sure he could taste the vodka on my tongue as I leaned in to kiss him. I ...

... swung one of my legs over him so that I was straddling him, sitting in his lap. I smiled at him, and drank my entire vodka soda in one long gulp. He watched me with considerable confusion, as though unsure of what to make of my sudden turn of mood. I set my glass down on the table by the end of the sofa and started to rock back and forth on the bulge that was growing in his jeans. Encouraged, I continued a rhythmic grinding against him, as I leaned in to kiss his neck and then lick my way up to his ear. “I want to be your whore tonight,” I purred into his ear, reaching down between us to rub his now rock hard cock. “What do you think about that?” I could tell I had caught him off guard, and uncertain as to the right way to answer, he kissed me to avoid a response. I was unhinged by the alcohol coursing through my veins and the sudden desire to reclaim that sexual high I had been missing since that night that had heralded my downslide into a new kind of sensuality. I became suddenly aggressive. I pulled at the buttons on his shirt, breathing harder, as I rode against the hard bulge rising up to meet me. Seth seemed confused by my sudden lustful attack, as I unwittingly heard the soft pop of the buttons off his shirt in my haste to remove it. “Hey,” he said, grabbing hold of both my overzealous hands. “Careful. It comes off, you know. Relax!” “I don’t want to relax,” I said with a lewd grin, not heeding his obvious warnings. “I want you to fuck me. Isn’t that what you want? To ...