Sugar Baby Weekly

Friday, January 06, 2006

Conduct Unbecoming

He held me at arms’ length, running his hands down my sweater sleeves and up again.

“It’s been so long!”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“That’s too long!”

I didn’t respond, just smiled and unpacked my bag. It was, after all, his decision that we meet less frequently and for less time. The past two meetings had gone over on time and I was determined to not let this one go the same way.

“Have you had sex since the last time we met, Cara?”

Was he kidding?

“I’m not going to discuss that with you! You should know I never kiss and tell…You shouldn’t ask such questions!” I said, trying to make light of the situation.

“I know; you’re right. I guess I wouldn’t want to know the answer…I’d probably be jealous.”

Outwardly, I smiled and shook my head slowly from side to side as I laid out toys and lube.

Inside I was incensed. The man pays me to have sex with him and he wants to be the only person I’m fucking?

Driving over today I was ready for action. I kept squeezing my thighs together as I drove, thinking that I was so ready to come.

Last time The Gentleman had discovered how very much he liked watching me suck his cock. It is a very manageable cock: just big enough to hit the back of my throat if I take it deep, but not so large as to trouble my gag reflex, let alone try to pass over it. There was, however, a problem with the cock.

The Gentleman was rather unkempt in his nether regions.

His pubic hair is not terribly thick, and is light in color. But it is long and fairly straight.

If I had to choose, I would choose a man with hair over one without. The sight of a completely bald pubis on a man is not so attractive to me. Some like it shaved, others like it untouched, I fall somewhere in the middle. Returning home I’d thought that I’d like to shave his cock and balls sometime. In my rush to leave the house I’d forgotten to pack shaving supplies.

“You know what I thought we could do today?”

I shook my head, “No, what would you like to do?”

He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I thought you might like to shave my cock!”

Well, praise the lord and pass the ammunition.

“Really?? You want me to shave you? Any reason?”

“Well, not everything, but I thought maybe just the shaft, so you won’t have to pick hair out of your throat like last time.”

This might not be so bad after all.

“You know, I think that is very hot. I would love to shave you. I had the same thought, but I didn’t bring anything with me.”

He smiled and walked to his bag, producing a disposable razor and shaving cream.

“That is great! Look at you! But, it would be better to trim the hair first, before we shave.”

He pulled a pair of scissors from the bag.

“Wow. Nice work. Got a comb?”


“No worries; I can make do.”

“I want to make you come first, then maybe you could suck my cock and then you can shave me.”

I was annoyed at his earlier question and determined to run this show. I would shave him first.

We walked into the bathroom and he sat on the stool. I went to work, pulling up long tufts of hair and clipping them close. I trimmed all of his hair, dropping the clippings to the towel I’d spread on the floor. I ran the hot water and wrung out a washcloth. I laid it on his cock and balls.

I filled a glass with water and set it on the floor beside me. He was hard as I spread the foam on the shaft of his cock, around the base and down to his balls. As I started to shave, crouched in front of him in my t-shirt and panties, he exclaimed, “Wow, you really know what you’re doing.”

I looked up at him, hard and naked except for his socks. One foot was on the edge of the tub, the other propped up on the counter. No way was I going to tell him this was the first time I’d ever shaved a cock.

I finished the front and had him bend over the tub, saying that if you shave your cock and balls, you should throw your ass into the mix as well.

He was smooth then, and I told him to rinse off and clean up the hair on the floor while I went to get a drink.

I took off my t-shirt and stood in a raspberry colored satin bra and panties, lifting a glass to my lips when he walked out of the bathroom. He sighed, “Oh, that looks so nice.”

“You like it? I’ll show you my favorite part,” I said, turning my ass to him. There was a small keyhole at the top of the panties, tied with a bow.

“Did you wear that for me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I want to make those panties wet.”

He sat on the bed, stroking my skin and the satin with his fingers. His lips went to my cleavage and I unhooked the bra, my eyes on the clock. We had forty minutes left.

He sucked my nipples, pulling them stiff and gently rubbed my clit through the fabric. No surprise, I was already wet.

“You’re so wet, babe,” he said, looking up at me, eyes concentrating, “I want you to come on my fingers. I want to make you come.”

I stood there, straddling his fingers, thinking how I didn’t like being called ‘babe’ by the Gentleman. It’s not the word itself, I think it’s the context. I think he calls me that because he doesn’t know what else to call me. It sounds unnatural from his lips. The lips which had formed the question earlier that pissed me off.

But I was standing tall, and he had subordinated himself to my razor-wielding hand and now to my juiced pussy. I looked down at him, said nothing and handed him the vibrator.

As he passed it over my clit, I started. I took it from his hand and moved the dial back to low.

“Start slowly.”

“Oh, okay. How’s this?”

“Mmmm, that’s it.”

I guided him, stopping at the good spots and pressing up with my hand on his; pressing down with my hips. I came, juicing the panties. The scent of my sex was floating up to my face. I got naked.

I took control of the vibe while his fingers stroked my pussy, rubbing the wetness in. He put a finger in and started moving it around. This was distracting, especially as I was focusing on my clit.

“Use more fingers. Two. Three. Stay on my g-spot,” I crooked my fingers in a “come here” motion (I do this every time we are together), “like this…”

He got it. And then he got it. I gushed into his hand and, exhaling through my nose, suppressed a loud moan. He withdrew his fingers, creamy and glistening.

“Come lie on the bed.”

He had stretched the nylon spiderweb over the mattress and handed me the cuffs. I strapped them to my wrists and ankles and he fastened them down. He clamped my nipples and knelt over my face.

“Do you want to suck my cock?”

Oh, please. This is how you speak to a submissive?

“No.” (Now what are you going to do? Huh?)

He moved between my legs and started licking my pussy. That's it? Unbelievable.

He sucked on my clit and I moved my hips upward. My nipples smarted as he pulled down on the chain and one broke free. He released my wrists so I could re-clamp it. Thusly freed, I reached to the table for the vibrator. I took it in both hands and ground it into my clit as he sat back with his fingers inside me.

I needed to come so badly. Had I been home alone, I would have done the same thing. He was there, but didn’t really add to the experience.

A couple growling orgasms later I looked at the clock. Five minutes.

I looked at the cock.

I unfastened the ankle cuffs, “I want you to fuck me.”

He put on a condom and I flipped to all fours. He slipped inside my pussy and started fucking me softly. I pushed back hard. His hand tapped my ass.

I took my own hand and smacked my asscheek hard.

“Like that.”

He tried, but no dice. He pulled out and sat on his heels.

“Sorry, I’m not hard enough.”

I looked at his sheathed cock and took it in my mouth, sucking on it hard. It stayed semi-hard, flopping over to the side.

“Honey, I really need to get going…”

“Go,” he said, pulling off the condom and throwing it to the wastebasket. This was the first time I’d seen him express an emotion. He was frustrated and I wondered if he was upset with me.

“Are you mad?”

“God, no! I just, well, I really wanted to come twice today, and I haven’t even come once!”

(Bear in mind, dear readers, that The Gentleman has NEVER ejaculated twice, let alone twice in 90 minutes. He expressed this as a goal several meetings ago. I suggested he start wanking a lot.)

“You know, I wanted to come so bad while you were shaving me…but that wouldn’t have been very hot, would it?”

“Why not? I think it’s incredibly hot. You really shouldn’t hold back on your orgasms, especially if you want to have more than one. I’m not sure how realistic a goal that is, considering our limited timeframe, though. Just relax and enjoy yourself. If you spend all your time thinking about your orgasm you won’t have any fun. And that is what this is about, right?”

“Yeah, I guess…it’s just so frustrating.”

“Listen, if we had four hours together it would be a different circumstance. We don’t have that much time when we meet, so I think it’s counterproductive to dwell on what isn’t working. Let’s just focus on having a good time.”

“You are so much better at this than I am. I guess because it is all business to you, isn’t it?”

Here we go again.

“I’ve told you; this is a business arrangement which gives me pleasure. I was looking forward to seeing you today, and I was desperately horny.”

“I wish we could see more of each other. And I feel badly that the last few times we’ve met, you’ve been shortchanged.”

“Yes, well, you're a smart businessman. You know how to remedy that.”

He said nothing.

Driving home, I decided that this was enough. If he won’t take responsibility for compensating me for extra time, this will not continue. Ninety minutes is nothing. Two hours was about perfect. And it’s not a big deal if we go over by 10 or 15 minutes. But after that it begins to be disrespectful of my time. Not only because I’m not getting paid for the extra time, but because I also have a life.

I have a very busy life, in fact. The Gentleman’s behavior today made me feel like a whore. Not in the good way. I drafted an email.