Sex should provide the opportunity for human connection, but paid sex does the opposite of that. To me sex without love is pointless. It makes you sad.
-Gil Grissom (CSI 7.21 Ending Happy)
"So tell me," Lick. Gasp. "Greg." Scrape. Moan. "Was your last hooker this good?" Slide your thumb over his head, slick with cum. Your eyes meet and he realizes that it's a serious question. Five years as his boss let you know he's conflicted about something but your throbbing clit almost doesn't let you care. You brush you're his balls just lightly enough to hurry him up.
"God, Lisa." Your name is a breathy moan and you're starting to care more about him touching you than him answering your question. "I haven't had a hooker since Wilson first suggested it." His honesty is steeped in reluctance, but at the same time he wants you to know. He runs his thumb along your jaw line contemplatively. "Ever fucked a john?" You bite your lip, unwilling to respond. His lips quirk ever so slightly. "Then you know how it makes you feel even worse than whatever made you resort to paying for sex in the first place." He draws you up for a kiss and you remember why the fuck you've kept your hands off of him – and his dick out of you – for so long.