Diary of a Courtesan January 9, 2026

Today was Greg again. Thursday afternoon, like clockwork. I knew exactly what he wanted before he even walked through the door—he always wants the same thing, and honestly, I don't blame him. There's something about the way I work my mouth that drives him absolutely wild, and he's told me more than once that no one else comes close.

I chose the hot pink and nude lingerie bodysuit for today's appointment. It's one of my favorites—delicate floral petals strategically placed to just barely cover my breasts, the fabric cinching perfectly at my waist to accentuate every curve. The nude mesh makes it look like the pink flowers are blooming directly on my skin. When I caught my reflection in the mirror before he arrived, I had to smile. Drop dead gorgeous doesn't even begin to cover it. I looked like a fantasy made flesh, and I knew Greg would lose his mind the moment he saw me.

He knocked at exactly 2 PM. Punctual as always. When I opened the door to my studio, his eyes went wide, traveling slowly down my body and back up again. I could see his breath catch, see the hunger flare in his expression. He opened his mouth to speak—probably to tell me how incredible I looked—but I pressed a finger to his lips and shook my head.

"No conversation today," I whispered, letting my finger trail down his chin. "I won't be able to talk with my mouth full."

The groan that escaped him was delicious.

I took his hand and led him to the bed, my hips swaying with each step. I could feel his eyes burning into me from behind. Once we reached the edge of the mattress, I pushed him down gently and climbed on top of him, straddling his chest. He reached for me instinctively, but I caught his wrists.

"Not yet," I said, positioning myself over his face. "Me first."

I lowered myself onto his mouth, and he didn't need any further instruction. His tongue found me immediately, eager and skilled. Greg has learned over our many sessions exactly how I like it, and he delivered perfectly—long, slow strokes that made my thighs tremble. I rocked against him, taking my pleasure, feeling the power of having him beneath me, serving me before I would serve him.

When I was satisfied—breathless and flushed—I began my descent. I kissed his face first, tasting myself on his lips, then moved to his neck where I could feel his pulse racing. My mouth traveled down his chest, pausing to circle each nipple with my tongue. His abdomen tensed under my kisses as I moved lower, lower, deliberately avoiding the one place he wanted me most.

I kissed around his cock, so close he could feel the heat of my breath but never quite touching. He was rock hard, straining, and I heard him whimper. The sound sent a thrill through me. This is the power I hold—the ability to make a man completely undone with anticipation.

Finally, I took his balls into my mouth, sucking gently while my lubed hand wrapped around his shaft and began to stroke. He gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily. I worked him like the professional I am—rhythm, pressure, variation—reading every twitch and moan of his body.

Then I shifted, rising to my knees so I was looking down at him. His eyes were absolutely smoldering, dark with need. I held his gaze as I let saliva drip from my lips onto his cock, then used both hands to stroke him, spreading the wetness up and down his length.

I edged him mercilessly. Bringing him right to the brink, then stopping completely. His frustrated groan made me smile. I waited, watching him throb and pulse, then leaned down and barely touched him with my tongue—just the lightest flick against the sensitive head.

"Please," he finally begged, and that's what I'd been waiting for.

I took him deep, swallowing his cock down my throat in one smooth motion. He cried out, his hands ripping at in the sheets. I worked him with everything I had—throat, tongue, suction—the skills I've perfected over years of practice. I could feel him getting close, his thighs tensing, his breathing ragged.

At the very last second, his hand shot out and grabbed my hair, pulling my head up. His cock slipped from my mouth just as he came, hot ropes of cum shooting across my breasts, painting the pink and nude bodysuit. He groaned through his release, his eyes locked on the sight of his seed on my skin.

Afterward, as he lay there catching his breath, I smiled to myself. Another satisfied client. Another perfect performance. This is what I do, and I do it better than anyone.

Until next time, Greg.