The first time is always the toughest. It’s my birthday, and I’m alone, so, after scrolling through the smorgasbord of beauties, I finally find the one the moves my loins in anticipation. A perfect eight with gorgeous tits and a pretty face—she was no Carmen Electra but certainly better than anything I’ve ever had. Her website pic seems to be smiling at me, inviting me. All I have to do is dial the number, and I can be smashing headboards with this hottie. Let’s see…3-1-0-5-5-5…shit! I hang up. Why am I so damn nervous? She’s just a woman—a very beautiful, never-in-my-wildest-dreams type of woman...that I can be unpeeling RIGHT NOW, if I can muster up the balls.
“Pull yourself together and dial the number,” my penis seems to be telling me. Maybe I should jack off first, so I don’t sound so desperate when I call her. Of course then, I might have some erection issues if I’m too nervous and I’ve already shot my load. God, I’m horny! Fuck it! I pick up the phone and dial the entire number. I can feel—no, hear-- my heart beating in my chest as the phone rings once…twice…three times. Oh, good…she’s not there so I can just leave a well thought out callback message...
    “Hello.” A soft voice answers just before I start to hang up. Shit!
    “Uh…hello. Is Jenna in?” I manage to eek out, trying not to sound nervous.
    “This is she,” she says. “Are you lonely tonight?”
Silence. A lump grows in my throat. A boner grows in my jeans.
    “Yes…your website says …um…that you…” Boy, do I feel like a dork.
    She laughs. “Is this your first time, honey?”
    “That obvious, huh?” I reply, feeling somewhat relaxed by her soft laugh and the honey word. “I have $300…and I was hoping to…”
    “Shhh, sweetie” she nearly whispers. “We’ll discuss that when I see you. If you saw my website, then we’re tracking. Just tell me the time and place.”
    We work out the details and hang up. I’ve got two hours to get things perfect. Two hours to ecstasy. Let the countdown begin...

    I jump in the shower and scrub my testicles and anus extra vigorously. In case she’s, you know, super nasty. I meticulously clean every orifice on my body, anticipating a mind-blowing tongue bath in my near future. I hopped out, nearly busting my butt on the wet floor, and run on my tiptoes to the bedroom. I spray two blasts of Axe body spray on each side of my stomach and rub it over my chest and pubic hair. I pull out a pair of black silk pajamas.
    “Nope, only Hugh Hefner can pull that one off,” I say to myself, tossing them aside. I opt for a pair of Calvin Klein cargo khakis and a black Sean John T-shirt. Relaxed but stylish. Perfect. Time hack: One hour, ten minutes, and counting.

    I plan out the script in my head. Should I offer her a drink first…sort of break the ice? I look in my refrigerator. All I have is a swallow of Alize left in the bottle and some milk. I down the rest of the Alize and consider a Plan B. Maybe I’ll just take control and go for a kiss right off the bat. Play the manly, confident role. Best-case scenario: she’ll melt and it’ll get hotter from there. Worst-case scenario: she’ll think I’m a weirdo and the night will end there. Decisions, decisions.

    My watch says I have 45 minutes before she gets here. I sit down on the couch and turn on the radio. The sound of Norah Jones relaxes me a bit and sets the mood perfectly. I wish I ‘d thought to get candles or something. Ah well…next time.

    As I lay there, anticipating my impending fantasy, I begin to massage my member through my pants, mainly to make sure he plans to act right tonight. The partial erection assures me that he’s game. I look at my watch—15 minutes. My heart starts to thump loudly again. I feel nervous, but the Alize starts to take effect, and I breathe easy. I’m ready.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The unexpected knock at the door startles me. Damn, she ten minutes early. Shit…where are my Altiods? I find them on the coffee table and pop one in my mouth.  The guest knocks again. I can tell she has little hands by the sound of the knock. I walk to the door and grab the doorknob, taking a deep breath. I’m at the point of no return now. “Man up,” I told myself to kill the butterflies in my stomach. I close my eyes and quickly pray that she’s everything I expected. I turn the knob and slowly open the door.

“Hi baby…SURPRISE!” my fiancée, Tonya, squeals, standing at the door, holding a single rose and a wrapped box. FUCK.
“Hi. Honey,” I stammer, trying not to sound shocked and disappointed---and guilty. “I thought you were working late tonight.”  
“Not on my man’s birthday!” she replied. “Kate said she’ll work my shift at the hospital; and so I’m all yours tonight,” she said as she walked in and closed the door.
Talk about a “wanna get away?” moment. My mind started racing. Think…fucking think. I pulled her into a tight bear hug and held her tight. In the distance, I could hear the distinct sound of high heels coming up the sidewalk. As the steps came closer to my door, I could hear my heart pounding. Should I confess or just pretend my friends set me up? The footsteps stopped and a light knock came from the door. Here it was, my first time being unfaithful---with an escort at that---and I get cold busted. And I didn’t even get a chance to partake in the forbidden opportunity.

“Who’s that, babe?” Tonya asks with a perplexed look.

       What would you do?
 

Outcall to a hotel... not to your house

I grab my $$$ and head for the door. I open it and say clearly, but in a loud whisper, "My fiance is here, I'm not sure if she is onto me, but I will have to call you later." I then hand her the money and close the door.

I go back and act like nothing happened. When the fiancee asks who that was, I say, "don't worry about it."

If she pushes, and she will, I then say, "If you must know, I was planning you a surprise, and she was part of the planning for it." Then say very seriously, "It is a surprise for our wedding baby, so please can we drop it!"

If she saw the $$$ change hands just keep saying it was a surprise.

With that said...

If you really had the balls to live. Tell her that she is an escort and you were planning to have sex with her and if she would like to join you that would be great, if not then you will talk to her later!

I think the second one would be my choice. Primarily any fiancee of mine would be into it. Or at least understand. I think honesty wins.

Hell she might even have me walk in on her and her escort!

But that is just me.

-- Modified on 10/5/2004 5:46:26 AM

"It was the neighbor across the hall who came over to get something I borrowed and forgot to return."  Think as fast as you can on your feet but think outside the box and be creative.

A great reason NEVER to use your own residence.  Outcall at a hotel or INCALL at her place will prevent this from happening.

Answering the door, I would look the escort straight in the face, but very mildly nod my head no.  If you are between your woman and the escort, some non-vocal communication might work.

What did you end up doing anyways!  We want to know!

As an escort on the other side of the door, if you had passed me the money along with a light whisper of you finance unexpectly coming home, I would have quickly walked away I dont think any companion would have created a confortation after hearing that,  But the fiance on the other hand, Wheww how did that work it's self out?

Never *ever* use your residence. My personal rule is "not within 100 miles of home."

there's a thousand answers to your question of what would you do........pizza delivery had the wrong address, someone collecting for the local band charity, bible thumper passing out brochures, even invite the escort in and ask your fiance to join in a menage.


Blah blah.......boring........tell us what YOU did in the situation and if it blew up in your face or not.

Frankly the whole thing sounds kinda made up for entertainment/posting purposes (no offense)...

-- Modified on 10/5/2004 2:28:02 PM

As soon as you heard the footsteps approaching politely ask your fiance to change the radio station - now the rest depends on where you live: a house and park in a garage, a house and park in the drive, apartment ?  Everything is in the details, the time, the neighborhood etc.  If you know how to use details anything can become believable. Give us more to work with and observe the masters at work. What did you do ?

The truth always sounds stranger than fiction, Shazaam.

we can fill in the blanks, but it would be nice for you fill in what happened next....and be as detailed as possible please.

(continued)    
    Tonya backs away from me a bit and asks again:
    “Who’s knocking at your door this time of night? Are you expecting someone?”

    As my lips part to offer an attempt at an explanation, I quickly weigh the benefits and drawbacks of either outright lying, outright confessing, or some combination of the two. Damn---I can’t think that fast.
    “Oh…it’s…” I cut my sentence short with a weakly orchestrated fit of coughing to stall for a clear answer. Tonya, probably sensing my guilt (I’m a terrible liar: my eyes give me away), walks to the door and opens it….

    Now, I’d love to be able to tell you that Tonya and the drop-dead gorgeous provider got acquainted and gave me a mind-blowing birthday ménage et trios; but, since this is real life and not the Penthouse Forum, things went a bit---no, A LOT different.

     I stopped coughing long enough to watch Tonya open the door.
    “Brenda?” Tonya asks, sounding surprised.
    Brenda? I was expecting a Jenna, not a Brenda. What the f---…
    “Tonya? Oh my goodness,” the voice at the door responds.

    Apparently, the two know each other

    “I haven’t seen you since 8th grade,” Tonya says.
    “It has been awhile, hasn’t it?” Brenda/Jenna replies.
    Tonya suddenly realizes that this coincidence was occurring at my house, in the middle of the night while she was supposed to still be at work.
    “Weren’t you a hooker or something?” Tonya asks her, with a tone of percolating suspicion and anger. “Is that why you’re here…to FUCK my fiancée?”
    Boy, talk about not beating around the bush. I walked over to the door and stepped between the two. I took a good gander at the short, tight, little beauty in a pair of low-cut jeans with a belly ring and a halter top that was the source of my major headache right now. God, why couldn’t Tonya had just caught us in the act? At least I would’ve gotten laid and then convicted. Now, I’m being persecuted for mere intent. Fuck.

    Tonya turns to me and asks, “Is that why she’s here?” her eyes tearing a little.
    I looked at Brenda/Jenna. Then at Tonya. Then back at Brenda/Jenna.
    SLAP. Tonya’s open-handed slap to my cheek stuns me. “Bastard!” she growls and walks out of the door. After I hear Tonya get into her car and pull off, I grabbed Brenda/Jenna by her hand, pulled her inside, and closed the door.
    “I hope you’re worth it, Miss Whatever-your-name-is,” I say to her.
    “Bet on it, mister,” she replies. "I never liked her anyway."

    Small fucking world---or I'm just cursed.

    That night, I performed every carnal act I could think of with my first provider and have yet to equal those unforgettable and surreally intense two hours with anyone else. I never saw Brenda/Jenna after that night, and Tonya ended up hooking up with a guy she worked with at the hospital (I have a feeling she was fucking him the whole time anyway---at least that’s how I’ve reconcile the breakup). I guess in the end, you really can’t have your cake and eat it too. Problem is, a good provider makes the choice too hard to make rationally.

    And that's how it all started for me. There’s true power in what you ladies do…