Jennifer lay on her back, legs spread apart, head hanging off
the edge of the bed. “Wow!” she gasped. “I never
thought I’d start my work day by having one of those.”
Actually she’d had two—one for which I’d been
responsible, and a second one when she’d gotten carried away and
did herself. But I didn’t correct her. I was too busy admiring
all her interesting details--cute brown nipples still hard from our
recent activity, and a well-trimmed blaze of pubic hair, below which
Jennifer’s fingertips were still absently stroking. It was the
body of a woman half her age, with round natural breasts, flat tummy,
and a firm little tush. Jennifer says she keeps in shape by playing
sports, and it’s made her amazingly supple. The positions she
assumed during our party were an education--I had no idea it was
possible to see so many different erotic parts of a woman at the same
time.
Jennifer has two tattoos—her name on the top of her left breast,
and a butterfly on her right hip, where her front pocket would be if
she wore trousers instead of thongs. I’m not fond of tattoos, but
Jennifer’s uncanny ability to connect with her customers made me
forget all about them. I’d shown up at mid afternoon, when the
other working girls were resting from the previous night. But Jennifer,
who says she prefers schmoozing with customers in the bar to waiting
for lineups, made herself available. Hair still wet from the shower,
she sat down by me, and after five minutes I felt as if we were life
long friends. Although one would never know it from her trim body
Jennifer is forty, which I think is the perfect age for a woman, a
point when she’s accumulated enough life experience to make her
really interesting, and enough sexual expertise to get a maximum
performance out of both her partner’s body and her own.
Jennifer’s current photos on Sue’s Fantasy House website
are criminally inaccurate—she’s much prettier. The camera
is obviously jealous, because it’s made her look a decade older,
somewhat heavier (I’d guess her actual weight at 115) and
converted the many laugh lines in her face to signs of wear and tear.
To appreciate this lady one has to see her in person—but to
REALLY appreciate this lady, one should have sex with her.
Having already committed one faux paux by mentioning a lady’s
age, I won’t mention Jennifer’s prices, other than to say I
found her rates to be very competitive. I’ve never had a more
comfortable negotiation. Neither will I list her rules—although
it would be an extremely short list.
Those who are into boob jobs and bovine silence during sex may not have
reached the point in their lives when they can appreciate a lady who
not only can screw one’s brains out, but be an engrossing
companion during the aforementioned screwing. For those who value such
an experience, I’d heartily recommend the services of Ms. J.