Spreading My Legs For A Stranger

Now here’s a moral dilemma we can all get our teeth into. The agency rang me yesterday to say they had something for me and I popped in to collect it today, assuming it was something I’d dropped somewhere. They gave me a brown envelope addressed ‘to the girl with the tattoo’. Inside was a note from the husband of trophy wife who fucked me in the boathouse. I’m too cross to quote it but the general thrust was ‘let’s keep this between ourselves, shall we.’ Now I’ve blogged it already, so it’s a bit late for that, but what he actually means is ‘for God’s sake don’t tell my wife’ which I had absolutely no intention of doing. And to make sure I held my tongue he’s stuffed in £1,000 in brand new £50 notes.

I think a number of contradictory things about this, in no particular order.

How dare he, how dare he, assume I’m a person who needs buying off.

Even if I was, what makes him think, £1,000 would be my price?

He could get a comfortable night in a West End hotel with a call girl for that kind of money.

£1,000 would pay off my credit card.

Does it count if the money is for my silence not for my body?

I’m tempted to slog all the way out to Marlow, ring the doorbell and tell his wife, “I’m returning your husband’s money.”

He must be scared.

Although I feel very cross indeed about this, I can also see that he has a lot to lose and probably hasn’t thought this through. Apart from anything else, if I was going to cause trouble for him, all £1,000 would achieve would be to make me realise I could get a lot more than that out of him.

But I’m tart-with-a-heart-of-gold, me. I’ve already decided that I’m going to contact him through the agency and tell him to stop worrying. Of course, that might just be licence to do it again with another girl but I’m in no position to judge anyone else’s sexual continence. I’m undecided about the money. It’s sitting on the table, looking at me.

It’s making me think about that day again and my pussy’s getting wet as I remember peeling off in the cold boathouse, lying back and spreading my legs for a stranger. Oh god, I want to get fucked tonight.

Comments

[rob]

Wow can't believe he thought you'd be the type to expose him, well expose him any more lol

I know you don't fuck people from you blog but wow I wish you did xx

[Loki]

Now see maybe it is the fact that I'm well Loki... but I'd be thrilled to have £1,000 for my ummm silence :-p

[GBC]

Would you feel happier if he had written ""Thanks for a great fuck, here is a grand as a thank you" ?

jusr clear your credit card bill, and think of him as a man behaving badly.

lol of course you won't, it 'll probably go on some extravigant n sexy clothes instead.

Merry Christmas.

[D&L]

You are worth more than that.

Hit him up for...no wait, that's blackmail. Never mind.

Since you didn't ask for money up front, perhaps you can pay off the card or go buy some stunning latex or leather (do you have Demask in London?) and treat this as a gift from an admiring lover. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

And I agree with you about spreading legs for a stranger in a drafty boathouse--wetness inducing, definitely.