Escorting And The Art Of Deception

In my previous story I recounted how I first got into escorting. To this day I've only ever told a few of my closest friends one person what I got up to in my early twenties. For five years, alongside my fledgling career in finance, I was on the books of a high-class escort agency in London. I was spending the occasional evening and weekend with clients who would pay me both for my time and my body,

Invariably my friends would ask the same three questions, "How much did you charge, how did you feel about shagging men that you didn't find attractive, and what did you enjoy most about it?"

The first question was easy to answer. My prices were not a secret and could be found on the agency website. I was making more money as part-time escort than I was in my accountancy day job. I'm not going to pretend that the money wasn't important to me. I absolutely loved the lifestyle it gave me. I had the best clothes, ate in finest restaurants, stayed in the grandest hotels and travelled to the most amazing places, while also saving the deposit for a beautiful first apartment.

The answer to the second question I think surprised my friends. They simply couldn't understand how I could kiss and open my legs for anyone I didn't fancy.

The truth is that as long as my clients were clean and well groomed, it really didn't matter to me what they looked like. I had fun just the same and never once felt the need to fake an orgasm. Just as you can be great friends with someone you have very little in common with, I believe that you can also have intimate and sexually explosive experiences with people you do not consider to be good looking.

And to the final question - what did I most enjoy?

Was it the money? Could it have been all the interesting people I met? Or was it all the sex - the naked bodies, the hard cocks and occasional pussy, the cum and orgasms, and the kinky fantasies?

Actually, while all of those things were important, there was one thing I enjoyed more than anything: the deceit.

Being able to tell lies was of course a necessity for an escort. These included the stories I told my parents to explain my new found wealth, the excuses I gave for missing friends' birthdays, or the bullshit reasons I gave my line-manager for why I needed to leave work early.

However, for me lying wasn't simply a convenient way of keeping my two worlds apart. It went to the very heart of my motivation for being an escort. I found every deceit deeply arousing. It's difficult to put into words the exhilaration I felt playing the diligent, strait-laced accountant or the sweet, innocent daughter when only hours earlier I had been lying naked in a hotel suite with a strangers' penis deep inside my cunt.

And of course, each of my clients had their own personal reasons for lying, which only heightened the illicit nature of our time together. I loved hearing them talk about their lives, particularly those with wives and girlfriends. The knowledge that they were cheating on their wives would make me insanely horny, particularly as I pictured them getting home after our rendezvous and telling bald faced lies about where they had been. I particularly liked the idea of a husband kissing his wife good night, with the taste of my sex still on his tongue.

I made sure that my clients were rewarded for their infidelity. For clients who craved intimacy, my aim was to give them more love and affection than they would ever get at home - lots of soft kisses, sensual massages and warm cuddles nestled in my small, natural breasts.

And for those clients whose partners were not meeting their sexual needs, I could offer them pure filth - taking their cocks deeper in my mouth than their wives would ever allow, wearing the sluttiest outfits, and offering to fulfil their kinkiest fantasies.

One client, Stephen, had a similar outlook to me. He understood the eroticism of being deceitful. Together, we incorporated this into our time together to create some memorable sexual moments.

The first time we met he was staying at one those smart but sterile hotels that circled Heathrow Airport,

Unlike many other clients who just wanted me naked as quickly as possible, Stephen was initially very shy. He offered me a drink and suggested we chat and get to know one another.

We sat fully clothed on the bed sipping wine and we talked for ages. I learned that Stephen was 44 and was some kind of senior management consultant. He had been married to Anne for 15 years and had two children.

When I asked him why he was staying at the airport, Stephen laughed and said, "I've got a meeting in Brussels tomorrow - I managed to convince my wife that I need to stay at the airport tonight to catch the early flight tomorrow morning." He gave me a conspiratorial smile, clearly impressed with his own deception. "And can you believe she actually swallowed that story," Stephen boasted.

As I watched him laugh, I wondered what impressed him more: having a night away with a girl half his age, or his wife's naivety in believing him. Either way, I found his lying and cheating a real turn on. I imagined his trusting wife alone in bed and a naughty thought popped into my head.

"I think you should call your wife - say goodnight and tell her you miss her," I suggested.

There was a look of confusion on Stephen's face, as if to say, "you must be fucking out of your mind!" However, this quickly gave way to an expression of dawning realisation as I walked away from the bed, sat myself on the desk facing him and parted my legs slightly to give him a prime view up my black pencil skirt.

"Go on, I dare you to call her," I urged him with a wicked smile. He nodded to show he understood.

He dialled and put the phone on speaker, obviously recognising the importance of having his hands free. As the phone rang, I gently moved my hands onto my thighs and gently rubbed the soft material of my tights.

Stephen instinctively reciprocated by moving one of his hands over his suit trousers, just as his wife picked up with a sleepy, "Hi Stephen, is everything ok?"

There followed the most mundane conversation between husband and wife imaginable. Talk of what each had had for dinner, of kids' homework and even the weather!

But all the time Stephen and I were transfixed on one another, watching each other masturbate.

First, we played with ourselves over our clothes. A tent pole appeared in Stephen's trousers as he cupped a hand around the outline of his shaft and got to work.

With my skirt hitched up to my thighs, my fingers pushed against the crotch of my tights and knickers, searching for my vagina and clit. My knickers and tights quickly went from damp, to wet, to saturated.

As they continued to chat, we decided it was time to display our genitalia to one another. Stephen unzipped his flies and worked to free his penis through a gap in his boxer shorts. I stood and pulled my tights and panties down to my knees in a single movement, three fingers in my right hand immediately disappearing inside my cunt while my left hand drifted between my arse cheeks.

We wanked for Britain that night. Every spoken syllable of his wife's innocent voice over the phone spurred us on to go harder and faster. As I came, I had to bite my mouth closed to keep quiet. His body trembled as he shot his load over his iPhone, before finally saying goodnight to his wife.

We collapsed on the bed together, roaring with laughter about what had just happened. We then lay quietly in each other's arms contemplating the mutual kink we'd just discovered. We knew we had to do it again.

Over the next few months, Stephen booked me a number of times to try out different ideas. Each time he wanted to take more risks. For example, we tried a phone call to his wife during which he was actually fucking me while chatting to her, and also a video call during which, out of sight, I sucked him off. We even had a sneaky rendezvous in the toilets of a restaurant while he and his wife were on a date night.

Just as I was starting to wonder how we could top this, Stephen came up with the mother of all cheats..

"I'm taking the family on summer holiday to a Greek island for 10 days. Wouldn't it be amazing if you just happened to be there at the same time?" he suggested.

I must admit, my initial thoughts were about the money. I had done overnight bookings with clients before, as well as a couple of weekends away. However, a whole 10 days away with a client was going to be to a huge fee (particularly because he was arranging the booking directly with me, which meant no commission for the escort agency). To give you an idea, the fee Stephen paid me was equivalent to about six month's salary in my day job.

Stephen outlined his idea. He would pay for me to stay at the same resort hotel as him and his family and we would take every opportunity to fuck right under his wife's nose without getting caught. The rest of the time he would enjoy his normal family holiday, while I would be free to do what I wanted.

I hastily arranged some annual leave, citing some non-specific "women's issues" which I knew my male line manager wouldn't question. A few weeks later, Stephen and I flew separately to Santorini, Greece. I was a couple of floors up from the two connected rooms occupied by Stephen, his wife and his daughters.

We decided not to plan too much in advance as we felt it would me more exciting to act spontaneously.

This started on the first morning when my phone pinged with a message from Stephen that he was down by the pool with his wife and kids.

It's fair to say that the clothes I bought and packed for the holiday were nothing like what I'd normally wear in my "real" life. This was clearly evident as I strolled to the pool in the tiniest black string bikini that barely covered my modesty. Stephen gave me a smile of approval as I passed, while his wife seemed to disapprove of the common English girl who had decided to take up the sun lounger next to her and who had ordered a vodka cocktail at eleven in the morning.

A sneaky text from Stephen told me our first fuck of the holiday was imminent. As instructed, I left the pool area and 10 minutes later I opened the door to find him standing in front of me in his swimming shorts and grinning like a cat who was about to get the cream.

He looked at his watch nervously, "We need to be quick, I told Anne I had to make a quick work call," he said.

I felt a surge of electricity run though my body. Stephen's anxiety reminded me of the risks we were taking on this holiday and how much this turned me on.

I really wanted to do it on my balcony so that I could look down and see his wife by the pool as he fucked me. However, we found there was no way to do this without Stephen being visible. We settled instead for the bed.

Stephen wasn't kidding when he said we needed to be quick. Within a minute he had dropped his shorts, pulled my bikini bottoms aside, covered his twitching penis and pushed it urgently inside me. And less than five minutes later, I was watching Stephen rushing to pull his shorts back on as I lay on the bed with cum splattered on my face and in my hair.

And that's how the holiday continued. Stephen spending quality time with his loved ones, interspersed with increasingly risky encounters.

A highlight for me was sunbathing on the beach, literally a few metres from them. Although there were lots of women who were topless, peeling of my bikini top in front of them and rubbing sunscreen over my small breasts felt particularly erotic. And despite there being no opportunity to fuck on that occasion, the fleeting fondle we had as we passed each other in the sea - one of his hands caressing my inner thigh while a finger darted up my bum - was absolutely magical.

I also enjoyed our first fuck in Stephen's room. His wife had taken the girls into town to do some shopping, which gave us a rare opportunity to spend a couple of hours together.

We had sex on the balcony that day. From below it would have looked like any couple admiring the view. However, while we both had t-shirts on, we were naked from the waist down, enabling Stephen to stand and enter my cunt from behind. The warm Sun caressed my face, a gentle breeze passed between my thighs and Stephen gently rocked his body and slid his erect penis in and out of me. I could have stood like that all day. However, with a jolt he must have remembered where he was because he suddenly pulled out and announced that he needed to cum.

I dropped to my knees, took off the condom, closed my eyes, opened my mouth and waited. I felt Stephen's hand on my hair, gripping the top of my head. Next, I felt the heat of his cock on my lips. Finally, I felt his cock slam into my mouth, making me gag as it touched the back of my throat. Just four thrusts of fucking my mouth were all that was needed before cum exploded from his penis. We stood French kissing, passing his sperm between us before we each swallowed our share and said goodbye.

And finally, I should mention the riskiest fuck of the holiday.

Well, we had hatched a plan to have sex in the hotel corridor while his wife was in the room. I figured I would wear a short beach dress so that we could fuck without revealing too much and cover up quickly if anyone walked down the corridor. As long as we were quiet, there would be no reason for Anne to open the door and look out.

So, there I was, lurking in the corridor waiting for Stephen to come out to play.

However, when his door opened, rather than come out, Stephen pulled me in to the room. Placing a finger over my lips, he whispered in my ear, "Anne's just gone into the shower - she's washing her hair, so we've got a little more time."

I could hear the sound of water running in the bathroom. My heart was racing. For probably the first time during the holiday I was genuinely worried about getting caught. While I told myself that I shouldn't care because it was Stephen and not me that was cheating, I really didn't want to be the cause of a marital breakup!

However, the risk was also extremely intoxicating. Just like drug addicts, I knew Stephen and I couldn't stop.

I made a move to unzip Stephen while hitching up my summer dress to give him full access.

However, Stephen shook his head. He stepped back from me and pulled off his t-shirt before stepping out of his shorts and pants. Standing completely naked in front of me with pre-cum already glistening on the tip of his cock, he pointed at my dress and told me to remove it.

What the fuck was he thinking? A clothed quickie was one thing, but getting completely naked would infinitely increase the risk of getting caught.

However, I also knew there was no going back. I unzipped my thin blue dress which dropped immediately to my ankles. At least I'd had the foresight not to wear any underwear.

We then had the most frantic and desperate fuck I'd ever had. Like a ticking bomb, we both knew that he had to cum before the sound of running water stopped.

Standing against a wall with him deep inside me, I stroked his balls with one hand and played with him bum with the other, bringing him to a shuddering climax.

I didn't fancy hanging around a minute longer. I ripped the condom of his cock, picked up my dress and darted out of the room completely naked. At that point I really didn't care if any of the other guests or staff saw me, as long as his wife didn't catch us.

We actually got to the end of the holiday without his wife suspecting a thing. Anne even warmed to me a little, on one occasion making some small talk as we lay side by side at the pool. As we chatted, my mind wandered back to the first time I heard her voice coming out of Stephen's phone and felt a familiar tingle between my legs.