The Countess's Client. Alison Richardson

      “No, I am German,” I said truthfully, deciding selective honesty would be simpler than invention.

      He looked away quickly when I met his eyes. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he said, brusque again now that his surprise had passed. My hands were trembling with excitement as I fumbled with the clasps of my borrowed gown. Luckily prostitutes’ dresses are meant to be easily shed, and I had left my undergarments downstairs. In a few moments I was naked. I walked over to the bed still trembling, and then paused for a moment at the edge, unsure of what to do next. It seemed comical to get on all fours right away, even though I knew that that was what he would ask of me. I sat down on the bed, instead, and tucked my legs over to one side. Since it seemed to make the man uncomfortable when I looked him in the eyes, I averted my gaze while I waited for him to join me.

      I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was walking toward the bed, loosening his breeches as he approached. He told me to turn around, and now I got on my hands and knees, facing away from him. The bed sagged as he climbed onto it, and he settled right behind me, his knees on either side of my legs, his lowered pants falling over my bare calves. He reached between my thighs to open the folds of my pussy and pushed his cock inside me just like the girls had said he would, shoving it in all at once, and it was so large it made me gasp. Grabbing hold of my hips with his large, callused hands, he started to fuck me.