Confessions of an Erotic Confessor

Hey guys. My little vacation was exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries, but it's funny how sometimes work just follows you no matter where you go. Let me explain.

I have a bunch of things I wanna share with you from last week, but I need to keep it simple else I'll be blabbing here all week. Anyway, let me start off by saying that this vacation was the longest time I've spent with a guy (Derek) in a very long time. And it was interesting in an academic kinda way. I'm back to those age old questions of what do I tell him and when. I spent the week pondering things such as:

Should I tell him about The Business?
How much should I tell him?
Confess that I'm not really a shampooer?
Admit I'm really a massage therapist?
Tell him I occasionally strip to a bra for extra money?
Tell him the whole thing is temporary?
Say my coworkers are all full service sluts, but I'm a good girl?

Makes for interesting conversation when he's saying something like "...I hope to manage the store in a few years and I may go back to school for my MBA..." Meanwhile I'm thinking "... I could tell him about the foot fetish guys, but definitely not the cross dressers..."

Now to make a long story short, I told him I'm really a licensed massage therapist and not a shampooer. I lied because guys usually expect massages all the time (which is another lie - most guys actually don't care and never take advantage of those particular talents of mine. Go figure). Derek was cool with it and said he understood (but I knew he didn't).

He then felt compelled to confess to me that he wasn't exactly truthful about how he found out where I worked. Apparently, he had gotten the directions from that skank girlfriend of mine, but then googled The Business and couldn't find anything. Said he knew all along there was something weird about my story, but didn't want to ask about it till I was ready. Thank Gawd he didn't try stopping by again!

Laying that much stuff on the table was easy. The weird part was towards the end of the week when we were messing around on the balcony of the hotel. He wanted me to "use your hand in that special way" (yes - he said it that gaily). So I told him to sit still so I could do it right. I went in the bathroom and got some baby oil from my bag (never leave home without it!) so I could give him a proper hand release. A few minutes later he was grunting and slapping the arms of his chair while I jerked him off onto the balcony floor. He turned to me, looked me straight in they eye and said "Where on Earth did you learn to do that? I swear that it felt just like a blowjob."

I wanted to tell him about my infamous double-handed criss-cross technique, and the various cell-phone videos of it floating around the web. But instead I just said "I musta picked it up somewhere."

CJ