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Private Life In London Hotels As Escort (part 1)

Busty ladies, like her, come from all over the world. Some come to get off. She wasn’t one of them. She came to serve.

Stumbling, almost drunk, I dragged myself back up the plush, gray corridor to my room, searching for the elevator but it was empty. Just as I turned around to search the floor, the door slammed shut behind me. I tried to pull it open, but the key slid in like it had been sucked into a vacuum. I looked up from where I had been leaning and suddenly caught sight of a woman staring at me from the top of my hotel room, she was in her twenties, a lifeguard at the pool.

“Oh no!”

I stumbled, collapsing to the floor, staring up at the roof of my room, stunned. Who the hell was this? I felt a wave of exhaustion crash over me. The wind was knocked out of me. It took all I had to stand up and reach for the door. I could hear someone screaming.


I pressed the button on the key, the door slowly swung open, the sound of their screaming echoing in my ears.

“Eve! What the hell are you doing up here? You have to come with me right now!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

I picked myself up off the floor, holding my stomach, wondering how much worse I could make this story.

“Stop it,” I said, staring at the man in front of me.


“Fuck you,” I said back, pushing past him into my hotel room.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in London.”

“Shut up. What do you mean? London?”

“No, I’m in London, I’m staying here. I’m an escort.”

“A prostitute?”

“I’m a private contractor. If you need a little piece of ass, just call me up.”

He laughed at me. I glared back, looking at his lifeguard physique. He was tan, lanky, jet black hair, tanned skin, eye-popping tits. I felt embarrassed at the thought of getting naked with him. He reached out for me and I felt a burst of anger. He brushed me aside like I was nothing. His hands fell to my waist and I grabbed a handful of his hair, digging my nails into his scalp. His eyes widened, taking a step back.

I heard the door to my hotel room close behind me and I reached into my purse, pulling out a gun.

“If you fuck with me, I’ll shoot you,” I said, pulling it out.

He looked down at me, smiling, looking at my breasts. My body was on fire, my skin covered with goose bumps. He reached out for one of my breasts, smiling. I felt myself growing wet, wanting him to touch me, just touch me. My heart raced, and I trembled as he pulled me towards the bed. I sat down on it, pulling off my clothes, barely able to contain my lust.

The hotel room was silent as we sat on the bed, clothed and facing one another. He reached out for one of my breasts, licking his lips. I swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. They were kind, like his face, dark brown, greasy and shadowed, and deep, they seemed to shine like gold. His hands felt good on my body, exploring me, finding my breasts, latching onto my nipples.

I was on the bed, kissing him, kissing his neck and shoulders, his arms, licking his chest, his stomach, searching for his cock. My fingers moved on him, gliding along his tight muscles, pulling him closer to me.

“God, what a beautiful cock.”

He looked down at me, smiling, looking into my eyes.

“This is yours,” he said, holding it up. “You’re a private contractor. You are hiring me to take care of this for you.”

I giggled.

“Yeah, well, I’ll take care of this for you, too.”

He laughed.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Nah, not drunk. Just looking for a job. I’m trying to make my money.”

He grinned, looking at my face, my body. He knelt down in front of me, his mouth reached for my pussy, his hand sliding into my panties. I felt a burst of excitement as he looked me up and down, seeing what I was wearing. My pussy was thick and covered in hair, long and curly, dark as night. His fingers slid along it, leaving a trail of wetness behind.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said, looking at my face, looking into my eyes. “You’re a slut, aren’t you?”

He stood up, standing over me, his hand running up my thigh, rubbing my pussy, feeling the sticky wetness of my arousal.

“You’re a whore, Eve.”

“What a fucking asshole,” I said, feeling his fingers on my pussy.

He looked down at me.

“You’ll come to my hotel room later tonight. And if you do, you’ll come to my bed. You’ll be my private bitch. I’ll take care of you and you can make my hotel room your own. You will be my girl, my slut, my whore. And when I’m finished with you, I’ll send you to London with money for your escort work.”

I stood up, grabbing his hair.

“I’m not going to come to your hotel room.”

He looked at me, confused.

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