Cum Shower - Sex Stories

Cum Shower

... fingers were trembling. I quickly dialed the last two numbers. On the last number, did my finger slip and dial the five instead of eight? Then I heard this sultry voice on the other end and I tried to get my voice to say something but I couldn’t make it work. Thankfully it was just a recorded opening telling me to press one for birthday parties, two for funerals, three for bachelor parties and for all other occasions press four. I pressed four. A few minutes of muzak played while I contemplated hanging up. Finally a man’s voice came on the line. “Yeah?” he said. I didn’t know what to say. “I’d like to order a prostitute, please,” I finally said. “What would you like on it?” “You mean like pepperoni?” “Why would I mean pepperoni?” “I don’t know. You just made it sound like I was ordering a pizza.” “Well, you’re not ordering a pizza. If you want a pizza, you’ve called the wrong number.” There was a long pause. “Hello?” I said. “Yeah,” the man’s voice said again. “Is Angela available? Id’ like to order Angela, please.” I really wanted to hang up and just masturbate, but it was too late. “Yeah. Angela’s available.” And then he told me the hourly rate which was a lot of money, but I couldn’t say no now. “Ok,” I said. Angela would be over in an hour. I looked at my apartment and it was kind of messy and I still needed to prepare the cum shower. I thought if I masturbated in the showerhead I wouldn’t have enough left for Angela. I wanted everything to go just right for our date, ...

... so I pulled my pants down and held my penis in my right hand and the showerhead in my left hand and tried jerking off into it. But I was completely unaroused. I thought of the prospect of having a prostitute and that made me a little harder. Finally I came a little in the showerhead and screwed it back into the shower stall. There. Everything was ready, sort of. I got out some candles. They weren’t romantic candles or anything, just leftovers from Christmas and had depictions of snowmen on them. I turned the snowmen so they faced the wall. Maybe Angela wouldn’t notice. I made my bed and picked up all the dirty clothes from the floor. I looked at my watch and saw how much time had passed. Angela was already fifteen minutes late. The doorbell rang and I wiped my hands on my pants and ran over to the snowmen candles and lit them. At the door I collected myself and smoothed down my hair. I opened the door. There was a woman standing there wearing a purple knee-length skirt and matching blouse. She had her brown hair tied up in a bun and she was wearing glasses. She looked about 37 years old. “Can I help you?” I asked. I was going to tell her I was expecting someone or just give her $5 for whatever charity she was collecting money for. “I’m Angela,” she said. “Oh.” I looked at her, kind of disappointed. It’s not that she wasn’t attractive, or, to put it bluntly, fuckable, it’s just that after watching so many movies, most of them pornographic, one starts to get a mental picture of ...