Page 5 of All I Wank for Christmas

“Not if he loves music.” I smile a ridiculous smile, hoping to see her smile again. Fuck, I want to make her laugh. “Do you get a lot of people you know?”

“I’m not supposed to say. Everything is confidential.” Her voice is so relaxing, I don’t even notice that my pants are already undone.

She gestures for me to lift my butt so she can pull my waistband down. I try to remember what underwear I wore today and blow out a sigh of relief when I see the simple, red boxer briefs. Thank fuck it wasn’t the ones with elves and the countdown to Christmas my mother likes to put in my drawer as a joke around this time of year.

“You don’t have to give names,” I say.

“True. I get some surprises. Let’s just say I’ve jerked my fair share of former teachers, police officers, firemen, and my coworkers and I each did our share of a bus full of Baptist ministers passing through on their way to a revival last year. That was exhausting and painful the next day. Good tips, though.” She smiles at the memory, and I can’t help but chuckle at the idea of a bus letting ministers off in the parking lot.

“It’s funny who wedon’tget,” she says, keeping her eyes on the ceiling like she’s waiting for me to be comfortable with the situation.

“Who don’t you get?” I ask. This is fucking fascinating.

She laughs and bites her lips as she slips my underwear down. She doesn’t look at my dick yet as it bobs below my belly button, fully erect and weeping for her to touch me. The urge to touch myself while I look at her face burns up and down my body, and I flex my fingers. She doesn’t even need to touch me today. I’d enjoy running my fingers through her hair and looking at her while I take care of myself.

“You know the guys that everyone thinks would come here? Guys with motorcycles, tattoos, and beards? The guys that hang out at pool halls and drink lots of beer?”

“Yeah,” I drawl.

“I don’t see them. Ever. It’s like they don’t exist in here. But I can tell you which married alderman has a mole on his left testicle.”

I laugh, and she laughs with me. I’d even classify it as a giggle. It hasn’t just been a long time since someone has touched my dick. It’s been forever since a woman has laughed at something I said or did. A real laugh. Not one of those fake chuckles someone does when they think they’re supposed to laugh.

She glances at my dick, and I flinch. What if she hates it? What if it doesn’t compare to the other dicks she sees on a daily basis?

Her tongue darts out so fast that I almost miss it as it wets her lips. Her eyes widen for a moment before she shakes her head and blinks. I almost come when she simply presses her right hand on my stomach. “This is quite the beautiful dick you have, Jasper.”

“You probably say that to all the guys.”

She tilts her head and hums. “There are fake compliments to get tips, and there are dicks you’d work for free.”

“Can I get my money back then?” I ask.

“No.”

“Worth a shot.”

She reaches for a bottle of lube on the counter, flips open the cap, and squeezes a small drop at the top of my dick and on the underside of my cock at the base. “Will that be enough?” I ask.

“To start,” she says. “But you’re so sweet, I thought I’d give you a little extra.”

Extra what?

She dips her head, and I squeeze the table. Is she going to put her mouth on me? I didn’t realize a blow job was an option, but I did just ask for the full works. I’m not mentally prepared for a blow job from this woman. I’ll come too fast. I’ll explode in her mouth, and she’ll laugh at me with the other Lindas. I’ll be unmanned!

She hovers over my cock for a moment, turns her head, looks into my eyes, and drops a line of spit onto the head of my dick. It’s the hand on my stomach that is the keeper, though. It’s warm and intimate, even with the latex between us. She wants to bring me pleasure, but she wants to touch me somewhere else while she does it.

I practically swoon from the warm spit as it drips down the underside of my dick, and my eyes flutter as she smiles an evil grin. Her left hand grips the base of my cock, and she drags the lube from the base until it meets her spit at the head, mixing to make warm, slippery lubrication.

“Feel good?” she whispers.

Naughty list. This woman has to be somewhere on the naughty list. No nice girl could do what she’s doing to my dick. Most women keep their hands in the same place when they jerk a dick. They just tug. This glorious angel of all hand jobs drags her hand from base to head and even throws in the elusive wrist twist. When I start to lose lubrication, she bends down and spits down my dick again in such an unladylike manner that tears form in my eyes at the beauty of a glob of drool teetering on my dick hole.

“Fuck,” I moan.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me know if you want different pressure.”

She switches hands, and I miss the hand on my stomach. Only after it’s gone do I realize it was the only thing keeping my back from arching off the table as she works me. I clench my abdomen to stay in place. It would be ungentlemanly to buck into her hand like I’ve never been touched.

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