Diary of a High Price Escort Book 3 - Sex Stories

Diary of a High Price Escort Book 3

... possible, wearing tennis shoes. His eyes watched intently as I approached.

"Thank you, Franklin," I said, raising my glass toward him again.

"You're welcome,” he replied, extending the most enormous hand I'd ever seen.

I placed my tiny hand in his, and as we shook hands, I said. "I'm Margaret; pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Franklin replied.

I seized the opportunity to let this incredible specimen of African American male know where I hoped the evening would go and said, "Hopefully, the pleasure won't be all yours." A broad, flashy smile on my lips.

His raised eyebrows acknowledged that he understood completely what I meant, and he wasted no time responding by slipping his hand around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

Franklin stood a good ten inches taller than me, and I strained to look up at his face. I didn't try to move away and pressed my hip against his thigh.

He leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. "What brings you to this dump of a place, Margaret?"

"Football," I replied.

"You like watching football?" He asked.

"Hate it!" I answered and then added. "But I like men, and football attracts men."

Franklin smiled again, and from my proximity, his smile seemed to warm the air between us.

"I had a shot at the pros, but I tore up my knee my senior year at State and had to give up those dreams,” Franklin offered.

"Too bad,” I replied, then added, "You certainly look like a football ...

... player."

"Fortunately, my coach had rules about studying, and I was able to land a good job after graduation, and now I don't have to worry about what I'll do after a pro career,” he explained.

By this time, it was nearly half-time, so when Franklin finished his beer and leaned down to ask, "Wanna blow this place?"

I was more than happy to agree. I smiled and replied. "Yes, let's blow this place, and then I can blow you."

His eyebrows raised again, and he let his hand slip down from my waist to grasp my ass gently.

"You're one hell of a MILF, Margaret," Franklin said.

I laughed, then replied. "You're the second man who thinks I'm a MILF. I'm glad you like fucking mothers."

Franklin threw a twenty on the bar, waved to the bartender and our waitress, and then motioned with his massive hand toward the door. I was amazed at the size of his fingers; they must have been over six inches long.

As Franklin pulled the door open for me, I touched his hand. "Is it true what they say about the size of a man's hand?" I asked.

Franklin smiled and asked, "What is it exactly that they say, Margaret?"

I grinned and replied. "Well, I've heard that the size of a man's hand is a direct correlation to the size of his cock."

As we stepped out into the chilly night air, he took my hand and moved it to his crotch. "You tell me, baby," Franklin said as he pressed my hand against his cock.

I turned to face him, keeping my hand firmly pressed against his cock. Looking up into his face, I ...