The most revolting client an escort could ever have

I was supposed to do an overnight with a French guy last night. He contacted me because I am one of the only French speaking escorts in this city. On the phone his voice sounded decently French and masculine, so I wasn’t too worried about his physical appearance. Shit was I wrong!

I drove to his hotel and Valet parked my car. I knocked on his hotel room door and was greeted not by a Baret wearing, dark haired hottie but instead by a fat, ugly blob. ‘Nooooooo!!!’ I thought. ‘Well, maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe he just wants to watch me jack off.’

We spoke in French, as his English was too poor to attempt communication in that fashion, until he finally said “well lets get into the bed.”

He took off his shirt and out fell an avalanche of hairy, mole covered fat. I had just shaved my torso and acquired a tan so our bodies were exact, polar opposites. We lay in the bed and I tried to fake affection by running my hands over his man boobs and sweaty, bald head. Deep down I was praying to god, or the devil, or allah, anyone – “Please let this be all he wants to do, just lye in bed together.”

Sadly, there is no higher power – how could a god let this happen to me? He started rubbing my dick, so I took my boxers off, hoping that would appease him. He started touching my dick and I tried as hard as I could to get it hard – I pictured all the hot boys I went to high school with getting gang banged bareback and having cum eaten out of their asses – but my feelings of disgust overpowered my imagination.

Now if everything I have described so far sounds bad, it pales in comparison to what I was about to find between his legs. I reached my hand through all of the fat and eventually found his penis. I soon learned that his tiny cock IS the most horrendous, disgusting and outright vomit inducing clump of atoms on the face of this planet. The hard part was very small, perhaps two or three inches, but on top of that was about two full inches of jiggly foreskin. It wasn’t just foreskin, it was as though the hard part of his dick only went halfway up his shaft.

I will not even describe what I saw and smelt when I pulled back the foreskin – but believe me I get sick when I think about it. No I I don’t just mean “Oh gross I get sick when I think of that” – I mean I ACTUALLY get physically nauseous every time I relive the experience – which my mind has done hundreds of times in complete disobedience of my wishes.

He tried to suck my big, clean, cut cock, but I wouldn’t let him.

There were few things I would let him to do to me – so eventually he said “Suce moi et fais moi jouir” (Suck me and make me cum.) Hearing those words felt like watching my mother get hit by a bus. I thought about what excuses to make to escape the situation and flee the room when I realized (lightbulb popping over my head) that maybe I could simulate the feeling of a blowjob without actually touching my mouth to his wretched nether regions.

I moved my head like I was blowing him but actually all I was doing was running two fingers up and down the bottom of his dick (I couldn’t even touch the top part).

Heres the funny part – he said “Ohhh, I haven’t been sucked like that in a long time. Oh, you are so good at that. Yeah, suck me.” My mouth didn’t once touch his dick, nor did more than two of my fingers.

He’s foolishly asked “Can I cum in your mouth” and I said “No” – then I realized that I forgot to stop simulating the blow job when I spoke, because its obviously impossible to speak clearly with a dick in your mouth, but he was such an idiot he didn’t even realize it.

Eventually I could hear he was gonna cum so I moved my head back and looked away. I was completely in the sitting position, with my head several feet away from his dick when he came, and yet he was such a moron he said “Oh, I’m sorry I came in your mouth.”

I ran into the bathroom and washed my hands and body off with soap for more than five minutes.

When I walked back into the room he started discussing our plans for the following morning. “Actually” I said, “I’m feeling sick and I need to go home. But I can meet you tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay, well let me pay you now.” He payed me for the overnight, thinking I was coming back the next morning. Then he tried to converse with me. I was polite and listened for nearly ten minutes to his French rants. Then I realized I already had his money and I didn’t have to be polite anymore. I felt liberated at the realization, like a flapping dove, and so I quickly left the room while he was talking.

It was my best two hours ever in terms of profit, but I would never do it again. He said he wants to see me everyday while he is in the States. Honestly, I wouldn’t do it for $1,000 an hour.

Is there some protocol when a client is absolutely untouchable? I don’t just mean unfuckable, I mean unTOUCHable.