The true cost
I’m horny. Really. Fucking. Horny. I can feel it from my scalp to the soles of my feet. And you know the thing I want most, Dear Reader? It’s not a fuck. It’s not a wank. It’s not a blow job. Or anal. Or anything fetishistic. What I want is to taste pussy.
I’ve not been allowed to enjoy burying my face between a women’s legs and loose myself in her delicious wetness for years. It’s so long I can barely remember what it’s like to suck pussy lips into my mouth, to graze my teeth across a clit, and to force my tongue as deep as I can into a hot, dripping, gorgeous quim. And I miss the hell out of it.
Horny as I am, I found myself wondering … really wondering … seriously considering … phoning up an escort I’ve conversed with online, and asking if she’s free tomorrow. (The reality is there’s a reasonable chance she’d talk me out of it, but that’s another story.) I genuinely went through the thought process of wondering what it would cost to stick my fingers and tongue up her cunt.
But I know exactly what she charges. £120 for an hour. It says so on her web profile. Next to her phone number. And I know that what it would take to satisfy my lust today is well within her normal services. Fuck! I even know that if I wanted her to wear rubber, she could accommodate that too.
I seriously thought about how much cash I would need to part with. I know what it costs to rent a cheap hotel room for a night, even if you only use it for an hour. For less than £200 I could have the best sex I’ve had in … oh let me think … in more than a decade! Admittedly, it would probably end up costing more than that. Just a little more. Probably in the region of half a million pounds Stirling, one way or another. It would probably cost me my home and my lifestyle. It would quite likely cost many hours of solicitor’s time. Cost me some of my friends. Add to that all the emotional cost.
It all adds up to a lot more than £200 for an hour. But I thought about it. And I am trying hard not to think about it still.