Sometimes one story can’t fit in a single telling. This is the second half of that night in Fulham, the same hotel, the same client, just carried further than either of us planned. If you haven’t read the beginning, you’ll want to start with A Fulham Escort’s First Strapon Session — because this is where everything escalated.
I spread him open, leaned down, and pressed soft kisses where he was most vulnerable. He shivered instantly, a full-body tremor, and I couldn’t help smiling at how responsive he was. I have a weakness for men who can’t mask what they feel. Then came a sound, low and unguarded, that startled me — a moan. Rare, and all the more delicious because of it.
I lingered, teasing, drawing out every twitch and sigh. It was messy, yes, but the kind of messy that makes you laugh under your breath because you know it’s working. I leaned to his ear, whispering, “Do you like it?”
“Oh, yes,” he murmured, voice heavy.
I grinned, curling my fingers against him as though I’d unlocked a secret. “We’re only just beginning.”
He bent for me as soon as I told him, too eager to resist. That eagerness is a gift — it makes me want to test the edges. Each time I asked more, he gave more. By the time I was ready to take him further, his body was already humming with it.
“Ready?” I asked, steadying him with one hand.
“Yes,” he breathed, eyes wide.
“Breathe in,” I said softly, guiding him with the patience I knew was needed. He tensed, then softened as I soothed him through it. The pause stretched long, both of us waiting, until he shifted back on his own. That was my cue.
At first, my rhythm was careful, testing. His moans grew louder with every movement, sweet and unrestrained. Soon he was pushing back, almost daring me, and I met him with firmer control. My grip tightened, and his voice broke into ragged pleas.
“I think I’m going to,” he gasped, and before I even touched him, it happened. Pure release, unprompted. I could only watch, amazed at how much he let go.
“Faster,” he begged, desperate now.
I gave him more, caught between his sounds and the sight of him losing himself. I couldn’t hold back from my own need, my hand slipping to myself without thought. Between thrusts I slapped lightly across his skin, asking, “Do you like it?”
“Yes, I love it!” he cried.
“How much?” I pressed, voice sharper.
“The most… I’ve never felt like that!”
That broke me. “Come for me,” I ordered, just as my own climax swept through. We collapsed together, tangled, laughing, neither of us able to quite believe it.
“Thank you,” he whispered, suddenly shy again.
“My pleasure,” I said, kissing him once more, slow and tender.
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