The Escort Gives the Widower a Last Chance - Sex Stories

The Escort Gives the Widower a Last Chance

Amy waited three weeks and then called the widower. She had finally found a friend whom she told about him and who had agreed to help. Her friend, Marie. was not affiliated with the escort service, but she was very skilled as a dominatrix who specialized in bondage and discipline. Knowing how Amy felt about the widower, she agreed to limit any pain that might be inflicted during their session with him, but she promised to satisfy his curiosity. When his phone rang, the widower answered with that same deep soft voice that warmed Amy every time she heard it: “Hello?” “Hi,” she said cheerily, “It’s Amy. I have some good news for you.” “It’s always nice to hear your voice; what can I do for you?” he asked. “Nothing, but I can do something for you,” she said with a slight pause. “I’ve found someone who is willing to teach you a little about bondage and discipline, and I thought I would come along and see if you want to have a threesome while Marie and I are there.” “Well,” he began, very slowly, “I don’t think I have enough to cover what it must take for two…” “Don’t worry,” Amy said, interrupting him to put him at ease. “Marie does not work for the escort service and I’m off duty.” “That would be very exciting, Amy; when can you come over?” he asked quickly. (A simple “thank you” would have been nice to hear.) She thought to herself. “Tomorrow afternoon, around two. That way you will have time to get comfortable before we all get into anything,” she answered. “How’s that?” ...

... “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Watch the traffic off the interstate ramp; it gets pretty busy on Saturdays.” Amy closed her phone. ( If he had just asked for only me, I’d be happier .) ********** ********** ********** When the girls arrived, the widower invited them in, hugging Amy in the foyer. She wore a soft white clinging dress that revealed most of her physical assets. Marie, who was petite and much shorter than Amy, wore a white tee shirt two sizes too small that advertised her large breasts, and jean shorts that hugged her thighs. She carried a zippered sports bag. The widower invited them into the den and they all talked for a while until he finally asked, “Marie, what’s in the bag? You’ve been guarding it like a valuable treasure.” She slipped forward to the edge of her seat, eager to divulge the contents of the bag. “Amy told me your bed does not have posters in the corners, so I brought along some helpful items,” she said. “You know that bondage means being tied up or down, and these will help.” She unzipped the bag and pulled out four sets of hand cuffs and four long pieces of felt rope. “And, there is one more thing,” she said, pulling it from the bag, “and this is to show you how a little discomfort can be exciting.” The object had a wooden handle and at the end was a wheel with metal spikes on it. “Let me show you how it feels; give me your arm,” she told him. The widower watched as she ran the spikes up and down his forearm and it pricked his skin but it didn’t hurt. ...