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Anything Goes
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Straight Female / 28
Good Girl, Stray Girl.
I'm the "Good Girl" from confession #52639. It's been a couple of days and I decided to contact Mr. to see if he felt anything for me and would let me come back and continue our arrangement. To recap, I was set up to stay with him temporarily due to an abusive ex-boyfriend, made him an offer to use me in return for money, and found his sexual attention amazing and crave it.
I reached out the the lady with the church that set me up with Mr. and told her I needed to contact him about some items I forgot when I left. I didn't have his number so she initially offered to go over, but I was insistent that I needed to speak with him directly and claimed that the items were hidden and wouldn't be easy to find. So she gave me his cell number. I sat in the spare bedroom at my sister's house for nearly an hour just staring at the numbers, nervous and excited in equal measure. I thought surely he'd reject me, that what we did was just a lonely man seeing a chance to get lucky and taking it, that I meant nothing to him.
And most of all that since he "fostered" stray girls like me as a member of the church in that area, he probably had another one already and moved on from me. It had been a week and a half after all, and we'd only been in arrangement a month. I had to know, so I finally sent a hasty text - "Darling, I miss you. Can I come home?"
Two hours pass, well into the night. I can't sleep, so I fantasize about some of the things he had me do. I'll share one of them that I didn't previously, him having me sit naked at the vanity in he and his deceased wife's bedroom while he put stockings on me and a lace collar before dinner one night. I could see everything he did from three angles thanks to the vanity's three mirrors and the way it was lit up. I've never looked so beautiful to myself - my legs slightly parted, hairy pussy showing (his favorite), the slinky stockings, my dark hair put up and cascading down my back, and the white lace of the collar pressed against my throat. And his hands on my shoulders, neck, and breasts, massaging them, rubbing an oil onto them that smelled like honeysuckle. Then his hands down my flat stomach, and then rubbing the oil into my pubic hair. I rubbed my clit slowly remembering the time he spent oiling me and the orgasm was delicious. I was sweaty, frustrated, and exhausted. I passed out asleep.
The next morning I awoke, sunlight streaming into the bedroom via the curtains my sister had put up. I could hear her two kids in the kitchen being kids (loud). My neck hurt from the weird angle I slept in. I saw the phone, picked it up.
"Come Home."
I've never been more excited in all my life.
I reached out the the lady with the church that set me up with Mr. and told her I needed to contact him about some items I forgot when I left. I didn't have his number so she initially offered to go over, but I was insistent that I needed to speak with him directly and claimed that the items were hidden and wouldn't be easy to find. So she gave me his cell number. I sat in the spare bedroom at my sister's house for nearly an hour just staring at the numbers, nervous and excited in equal measure. I thought surely he'd reject me, that what we did was just a lonely man seeing a chance to get lucky and taking it, that I meant nothing to him.
And most of all that since he "fostered" stray girls like me as a member of the church in that area, he probably had another one already and moved on from me. It had been a week and a half after all, and we'd only been in arrangement a month. I had to know, so I finally sent a hasty text - "Darling, I miss you. Can I come home?"
Two hours pass, well into the night. I can't sleep, so I fantasize about some of the things he had me do. I'll share one of them that I didn't previously, him having me sit naked at the vanity in he and his deceased wife's bedroom while he put stockings on me and a lace collar before dinner one night. I could see everything he did from three angles thanks to the vanity's three mirrors and the way it was lit up. I've never looked so beautiful to myself - my legs slightly parted, hairy pussy showing (his favorite), the slinky stockings, my dark hair put up and cascading down my back, and the white lace of the collar pressed against my throat. And his hands on my shoulders, neck, and breasts, massaging them, rubbing an oil onto them that smelled like honeysuckle. Then his hands down my flat stomach, and then rubbing the oil into my pubic hair. I rubbed my clit slowly remembering the time he spent oiling me and the orgasm was delicious. I was sweaty, frustrated, and exhausted. I passed out asleep.
The next morning I awoke, sunlight streaming into the bedroom via the curtains my sister had put up. I could hear her two kids in the kitchen being kids (loud). My neck hurt from the weird angle I slept in. I saw the phone, picked it up.
"Come Home."
I've never been more excited in all my life.
