”My mother nodded, thoughtfully.“Well, I am also sure that she does not expect you to talk about it with anyone else. She is trusting you on that ...ven though she hasn’t asked you to keep it secret.”My mother looked down at her hands on the table and then looked back up at me. “There’s more to that story that you are not telling me, isn’t there?”I returned my mother’s gaze. Once again, I couldn’t answer, so I asked a question in return.“It’s not my story to tell, is it?”My mother nodded, slowly.. I didn't want to get in trouble, I didn't want to risk forming an emotional attachment and then leave, but I wanted to feel a mature woman's body, feel what it's like to be made love to and be educated in the nuisances of sex by a knowledgeable female. The only choice was, at first, distasteful, and then, like the evolution of my emotions about living with a scarred face, totally reasonable: A call girl.With someone who does this professionally, several aspects of my search are eliminated: no. I went to the meeting room and sat on one of the leather sofas.I ran my hand up my stocking covered legs, my pussy was twitching and by now very wet.I pressed the cold bottle against my clit. I could feel the coldness through the tiny thong i was wearing.I couldnt wait any longer i needed it inside me. I lifted my right leg up resting my 3" heel on the coffee table. I pulled the thong to one side and slowly eased the bottle inside, i gaspdd as it went all the way in. I moved it in and out few. My dick sticking straight up in the air.. I thought she was going to touch it.. Tease it or something.. But next thing I noticed was hot breath and she stuffed my cock in her mouth. I can feel the saliva mask my cock. She slurped it loudly and she wasn't trying to hide it. It was hard for me to resist any movement so I moved my arms a bit.. slowly.. and she stopped. I thought I had interrupted this entire scene. She was quiet I didn't know where she was. I took the towel off my face scared to.