The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

homes, we went out of town on a dirty weekend at a hotel. We were hardly in the room before I was stretched across the bed and he was concentrating manfully on the progress of his fingers inside me. Then his fingernails hit my cervix: ouch. Much fantasised, but never attempted again.
    Second, N. Years ago, when we were still an item. He wanted it; I was dubious. It had been a long time since the teenager who tried to scratch me out, but I could still imagine the gritting pain.
    But N was experienced, he knew about the finger‐curling wrist-thrust necessary to get a whole fist in without the woman experiencing involuntary
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    hysterectomy. Unfortunately N also has hands that can span my waist. His last girlfriend had taken the fist many times, often while being buggered. She was also 6 feet tall and about twice my weight. We tried, many times, but never quite got there. I practised with all manner of widening tools: vegetables, dildoes, an extremely large‐handled torch. No luck.
    Third, my hand goes where no hand has gone before. Namely up a woman who is on the phone to her boyfriend in Italy. He's paying me to make her come as many times as we can in an hour.
    This is also the day I discover you need to break the internal vacuum to take the fist out again, unless of course your intended is into suction. And I don't mean the Jenna Jameson kind. Yeeks.
    Fourth, one night, with a customer. And I discover that while someone else's hand might be out of my reach (so to speak), my own is slender and small enough to make it in. Contortionally awkward, but successful nonetheless. Finally, a perfect fit. Only then do I discover the black art of fisting is not getting it in; it's getting the damn thing out again.
    I rang the Boy when I got home to let him know about the fist. I didn't mention it was with a client. 'Can you do it now?' he said over the phone.
    'Probably,' I said. In pyjamas, in bed. Under the duvet. 'I'm just about asleep, though.'
    'Oh.' There was a silence. 'Can you just describe it now, instead?' he asked. Of course I could. 'And then show me next time you see me?' Yes, of course, anything, love. I do not grow weary of you. Come see me, come take me away.
    I woke to a missed text message from him: 'The best things in life R still free. I miss your cuddles most of all xx’
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    mercredi, le 19 novembre
    I crouched between the man’s legs. His inner thighs were huge and I brushed the skin with my fingertips. 'How was your holiday?'
    'Good, good. Japan is an interesting place. Have you ever been?'
    he asked, leaning back on the bed.
    'No.' I took the hardening cock in my hand and pulled on its foreskin gently. It stiffened and lengthened in my palm. 'What is your favourite thing to do there?'
    'They’re an odd people. They have these places, ' he said, pausing slightly as I took his member between my lips.
    'Simulating a crowded underground carriage. Where people’s bodies rub up against each other . . . '
    He slipped out of my mouth; I began pumping the shaft with my fist. 'I’ve always had a fantasy like that. A crowded student pub, short skirt, leaning over the bar to get a drink, someone comes up behind me. And there’s no space to move, so not only can I not get away, no one else can tell its happening.'
    'Mmm, that sounds good.'
    'Will you promise me something?' I asked. 'If you ever see me after at this bar, will you just come up and do that?'
    'You have my word,' he said, angling his erection back into my mouth.
    vendredi, le 20 novembre
    The Boy is in town, so I am seeing no clients. We went to the gym, ostensibly so I could show him off, but mostly so he could show himself off.
    First event was the rowing machine. I hate the rowing 28
    machine. Hate hate hate it. It is the Devil's Bicycle. It is my nemesis and wants me dead. However, I will gladly sit alongside the Boy as he thrashes the metal beast into fly‐wheeled submission. After five minutes, droplets of sweat appeared on the back of his neck.