I decided that I wanted to do the stockings and suspenders thing. And so, feeling a little nervous, I popped into my favourite lingerie shop and with the help of fabulous and discreet sales staff, I spent a small fortune.

That night I dressed up. I clipped my stockings to my suspenders, put on a not too short black skirt, a sheer shirt, no bra, and high fuck-me-now black shoes.

With a very beautiful black classic coat over.

Everything was Italian.

When My Difficult Friend saw me he just kept looking.

You look absolutely beautiful Violet, beautiful.

Thank you, I replied, pretending to be super calm while inside my heart felt completely insane.

I took my coat off and sat on the arm of the couch, legs crossed.

My nipples were visible through my top.  My skirt rode up my thighs.  I crossed and uncrossed my legs.

I felt beautiful.

And very sexy.

I also felt exactly like a high class hooker. An Italian one.

And here’s the thing.

I liked it.

My Difficult Friend liked it too.

We chatted. We drank whisky. I taunted him a little. He taunted me. Every time he came close, I pushed him away. My heels in his crotch were fantastic.

I played the hooker role.

We did wonderful things.

My lipstick got smeared. My hair was a mess. My skirt came off.  My suspenders stayed on.

I may be feeling a little tender today.

Most importantly, I never tore my stockings.  Which is why one should always wear expensive fabulous imported did I mention expensive stockings?

It means I can easily play the high class hooker role again.

If I want to.





21 thoughts on “Hookers

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