“Young girl looking for work” the advert on the internet said. I replied “kind, generous man looking to spoil a young lady” which was, I hoped subtle enough to intimate that I was looking for sex but not so crude as to cause offence to a girl looking for work other than escorting. The response came back “sure” and nothing more which made me think that the advertiser was inviting me to take a long walk off a short cliff, consequently I disregarded the reply. However, several days later I received a further e-mail simply saying “Hello”. Nothing ventured nothing gained I thought and responded that I was looking for a lady to take out to dinner etc. Again I hoped that my message would be subtle enough to indicate my wish for “personal services” without landing me in hot water by explicitly requesting sex.

A day later I received a text “Hi it’s Sara, you e-mailed me”. To cut a long story short, after the exchange of numerous texts Sara and I agreed to meet in central London for a meal. She explicitly got me to promise that I was only looking for companionship and with a twinge of guilt I gave that assurance.

The day arrived and I waited with some nervousness for Sara to arrive. As I stood in Victoria station I thought “is this a set-up? is she a time-waster? Will she arrive?” My phone rang, “It’s Sara, where are you?” I gave my location and was soon in the company of an attractive lady of British/Pakastani origin (Sara was born here but both her parents are from Pakistan).

Over dinner we both grew at ease in each other’s company. Sara had just turned 18 and it was an enormous turn-on for me to be in the company of an attractive 18-year-old.

Sara’s scent and her sweet girlie chatter was very erotic. This combined with the gorgeous scent she had on made me giddy with desire. I wanted to invite her to a hotel for, err “a massage”, however, as the bard says “conscience does make cowards of us all” and I held my tongue. God knows I wanted Sara. However it was a public place and I cringed at the prospect of a sceene where Sara to react badly to my “proposal”. In addition I was aware of my text in which I’d explicitly said that I was simply looking for company. I wouldn’t have been the first guy to lie about his intentions (or the first lady either)! but a wee small voice of conscience helped to stay my tongue.

We parted at Victoria and while travelling home I texted Sara about meeting, at my flat. She responded quickly and following some juggling of arrangements we agreed to meet on Friday evening.

On meeting Sara for the second time I was again struck by her sweet young teenage inocence. She had, had her purse stolen on the train and was most concerned about how to tell her grandfather about it (it was a present from him and Sara was concerned about how he would react). I found her concern touching and felt a stab of guilt that on reaching my flat I would try my level best to get Sara into bed with me.

Could Sara really believe that most men seeking the company of girls such as herself would be content simply to be seen parading around with an attractive young lady on their arm? I don’t know the answer to that question. On the one hand Sara is due to start university in the next month or so and one would hope that those with aspirations to higher education possess intelligence. However intellectual capacity is distinct from common sense so perhaps Sara was an inocent abroad in a world which she only dimly comprehends. On the other hand Sara told me that a friend of her’s (also 18) was meeting a guy, in London Bridge on the same day as our assignation. I asked her whether her friend provided services other than companionship to which Sara replied “no”. Perhaps her friend merely meets men for lunch but I had a feeling that she might well do more even if she failed to tell her friend Sara about the “extras” which she offered her clients. Again I have no way of knowing.

On reaching my flat and sitting together on the sofa I asked Sara if I could give her a hug to which she answered yes.

Later I asked whether Sara could give me a “non-sexual massage”. I know it sounds corney but that is in all truth what I asked! She agreed and we moved to my bedroom. I stripped to my boxer shorts and lay on the bed while Sara massaged my back. “Would you like anything else” she asked. “Massage my stomach please”. As Sara’s hands moved softly over my stomach I felt my penis stir  to life. I wanted to say “play with my dick” but instead I said in response to Sara’s question as to whether I wanted anything else, “massage my legs”. The pantomime continued with me desperately craving relief but asking Sara to “massage my arms”. Finally Sara said “I guess we’ve finished”. It was now or never. I stayed silent for what seemed an age then “Can you massage here” I said pointing to my penis. “No”. “I’ll give you £100 extra and another £50 if you take off your top and let me play with your breasts”. Sara paused I guess enduring her own moral inner conflict. Money won and she agreed. Sara was inexpert at masturbating guys so I took over and while Sara dug her nails into my nipples (which I adore) I pleasured myself with my right hand while stroking Sara’s firm young tits with the other.

When I came it was a blessed relief. In fact the best orgasm I’ve had for a long time. Part of it’s intensity came from having achieved my goal, having got a young lady to masturbate me.

As I write I have mixed emotions. I enjoyed the “massage” and would like to see Sara again, but did I spoil the inocence of a vunnerable young girl? Sara is an adult, however a girl of 18 is not, on the whole as mature as a lady in their mid to late twenties. She is not a child but she is girl-like in many respects and, to be honest this is part of her charm. Sara could have stuck to her initial resolution of “no” and I would, of course have respected that, however she chose to render extra services.

Maybe I am idealising Sara. I only know what she told me about herself, about her Muslim beliefs (she is a Muslim but wears no head scarf and uses perfume and puts on high heels). However I feel that there is an essential honesty about Sara. She is, in essence young and inocent but, as I write this a smile creases my face (am I being naive and self-deluding I ask myself)?

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