What?!?
I untied his robe and grabbed a non-lubricated condom (the best for blow jobs so you don’t eat lube), popping it on with my mouth. And just like that we were rounding third. I showed him my smile as I licked back and forth gleefully, alternating between sucking hard, nibbling gently, and riding him with my face. When I could tell any more of my mouth might make him burst, I stopped.
I turned to face him and pulled the front of my lingerie down, letting my titties spill out. Without words, I brought my chest to his face and he instinctively opened his mouth. I felt divine as he took me in, doing a great job of sucking his Goddess and covering yet another base.
“You may, but only on the outside.”
“Why don’t you unsnap my bodysuit for me?” I suggested.
And Adam was a dream client: a kind, gentle, autistic man who lived with his parents in another state and traveled all the way to Nevada to be with me—a total sweetie. We’d emailed back and forth to prepare for his visit, communicating his sensory needs ahead of time so I could best accommodate: low-volume music, no cross-conversation, and no strong perfume. The last one was easy—I never wear perfume at the brothel because, well, not all clients are virgins without wives to go home to.
“Okay, pause,” I said breathlessly, dismounting to fully enjoy my own climax as ripples of ecstasy waved through my body. When I caught my breath I said, “There’s just one base left that we haven’t tried…”
“Well, we’re gonna change that right now!” I said enthusiastically, taking his hand in mine and watching his eyes light up. A smile grew big and wide across his face and I knew we had to make this work—it now felt important.
“Are you ready for the home run, Adam?!”
“Right, it’s your first time in a brothel, you said earlier. So, has it been a while for you since being intimate with someone?”
“Hi, I’m GG!” I said with a wave, noticing that his body language communicated a hug would be too intense just yet.
“Yes!!!”
I got on top, putting his cock at my opening, and took a deep breath—this was a big moment for him! I exhaled and slowly started allowing him in, relaxing my pussy onto his shaft bit by bit, until at last, he was fully inside me.
“Well, yes, but longer than a while. I mean, I’ve been on a couple coffee dates with girls but I’ve never done anything.”
“Isn’t she pretty? You can really look—I’m not shy.”
“I’m very close!” He shouted.
“I’m so close!” I yelled, and my own sounds of rapture were the last push needed to get me over my edge. “I’m coming! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”
This tale of getting tail takes place in The Middle of Nowhere, Nevada, in one of the dozen or so legal brothels still standing post-pandemic where I, dear reader, am a fully licensed courtesan—a designation that requires a shit ton of paperwork, medical testing, state certifying, and gusto to earn (wipes dirt off shoulder).
“Why thank you! Let’s head to my room and I’ll give you a tour along the way.”
“Welcome to my Temple of Worship!” I said as I opened the door to my immersive masterpiece. Sheer curtains separated the bathroom, hallway, and bedroom, twinkly fairy lights hung above the bed, and prints of my artwork decorated every wall.
“All clear! You can put your clothes back on and we’ll go pay.”
“Any questions so far?” I asked, standing on the waterproof bed in the Nuru room (IYKYK—if you don’t know, definitely look it up).
I was getting wetter and wetter, already starting to feel close, so I grabbed my vibrator from the nightstand and held it to my clit. The vulnerability, the trust, the money, and the power of initiating him—it was all simmering in me toward a delicious climax.
I assured him that what he was feeling was normal. I’d say 60 percent of the people that visit the brothel are nervous newbies, 30 percent are down to go at least a little outside the vanilla box, and 10 percent or less are freaks with amazing fantasies they want to play out (like the couple who visited me and payed $XX,XXX just to tickle me). I showed him the rest quickly: the sex tape room, the BDSM dungeon (he looked terrified) and we continued our trek to my suite—the only place I can legally discuss my pricing.
“Good, I want you to let yourself explode. Don’t hold back—I want every drop!” I could feel I was going to milk out his full load, and just then: “I’m coming!”
“Ohhh wow, so beautiful,” he uttered. Then, “May I touch you?”
As we walked down the endless hall to my quarters, I pointed out some of our specialty setups and made my favorite tour guide jokes, telling Adam to “cum inside” each room I showed him.
“Yes!” He exclaimed, so damn thrilled about my O.
“Yes, Goddess.”
GG Sauvage is a writer and all-around artist on a mission to f*ck shame away and empower people with self-love. She designed The Sexiest Deck Alive: Erotic Oracle Cards to Turn You On & Help You Turn the Corner, co-hosts the Basic Witches podcast, and wrote the audio drama Sex and the Synchronicity. See her work at Refinery29, Vogue Italia, Vulture, CollegeHumor, and WhoHaHa, and check out her website for more!