Dressed up and busty
I knew this was going to be an interesting situation to handle. The five star London boutique hotel was situated in a leafy street, perfect for an escort assignment it was away from the hustle and bustle of Central London; a refreshing change from the chain hotels most of my clients use. The reception desk was intimate so there was no slipping in, past the hordes of excited visitors. I gave the receptionist the information I needed to pass on, on a card. She did not bat an eyelid as I was handed a key in a pouch and I headed off to the lift.
Rather than heading straight inside, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I heard a noise and realised my client was looking through the spy-glass, taking in my busty appearance. On opening the door, the man dressed as a woman was a sight to behold.
Whilst there was nothing sexy about a tea-dress, the stockings were clearly visible through the light-weight cotton. I undressed slowly, as the man who named himself “Sheila”, explained his wife’s aversion to cross-dressing. I nodded as if to understand and watched Sheila take off the dress.
I felt an odd excitement to see the frilly knickers, the hold ups and tight corset, which Sheila insisted she would continue to wear. I ran my hand up and down Sheila’s legs. When I realised that she was more than excited, I licked her inside thighs and proceeded to trail my tongue down the inside of her leg and removed the sheer hold-ups. Sheila gasped as I removed the knickers, and apart from the make-up, it was all systems go. The male within Sheila was unleashed and we started to move with each other.
Actually before I left, I asked about the make of perfume as it was an adorable scent. When Sheila, now smoking a cigarette and looking spent, replied, I wasn’t familiar with fragrance. I made a mental note to search it out when I arrived home. I looked at myself in the lift mirror and admired my full-bosomed figure and saw a smear of lipstick on my fringe and dearly hoped the receptionist would not notice as I hurried past. By the time I’d entered the street, I’d forgotten the name of the perfume!
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