After Christmas last year, I found myself in Montreal, house sitting for a couple who'd gone off skiing for the week. After a couple days of watching movies and reading books, I was a bit bored and decided to call on one of the local escort services to see what was on the menu.

There are plenty of agencies in the Montreal area. I checked the back of one of the local weekly's (The Mirror) and browsed through the yellow pages. After making a few calls, I settled on a young lady from a place called Asservante. It was a bitterly cold night, so I made a fire in the living room and opened up the futon. The doorbell rang about a half hour late, around midnight.

When I opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised. Casandra was five foot nothing tall, slim, cute and wore wire rimmed glasses. I welcomed her in and introduced myself. As I explained my situation, I offered her a drink. She accepted wine. While I poured the drink, she found the money ($140CAD) I left on the sideboard for her. She asked if it was hers and I told her so.

We toasted the season and I showed her around the place. She was very keen to stay in the living room as she loved the fire. I gave her a hug and was pleased that she hugged back. I began undressing her down to her underwear (which was a lovely red lace set). Unfortunately, she was not a kisser.

We stretched out on the futon and the fun began. I was pleased to see she had a surprisingly ample bosom for a B cup, but my interests were further south. She was neatly trimmed and had delightfully smooth skin. I spent ten or fifteen minutes working her over with my tongue, but I couldn't get a peep out of her.

We exchanged positions and I let her go to work on me. She was good, but not particularly skilled. I pulled her up in a 69 position and found the experience more agreeable for both of us.

After a bit, she spun around and straddled my hips. She eased on to me slowly. When she was comfortable, she rocked slowly as I caressed her breasts and thighs. After a while, I pulled her down to my chest and started rocking into her vigorously. We switched to missionary after a while. I had her feet on my shoulders and my hands under her butt. I was working hard but she didn’t vocalize more than a murmur.

When her hips were tired, we switched to doggie. It was a delightful sight seeing her little frame kneeling before me as I crouched on the futon in front of the fire. When I was ready to come, I rolled her back into the missionary position to finish off.

We lay there for a few minutes as I caught my breath. Our time was soon up, so she cleaned up while I straightened up the living room. While we waited for her ride, she told me about herself. She was nineteen and had started working that summer. She just started college, studying French literature, and needed the money as she received no support from her parents. While she didn’t seem to enjoy the job, she admitted that she didn’t mind what she did at all. What she found interesting was the range of men she met. She told me about a fellow in his late sixties she had met a few months before. He reminded her of her own grandfather so she elected not to go back. Her ride arrived and I hugged her goodbye.

When I returned to Montreal at the end of this past summer, I called her agency and learned that she was not with them any more. While I might not have repeated with her, she was attractive and pleasant.

Good story! How nice it must be to ba able to pick up the phone and get in touch with a nice French-Canadian lass who makes house calls.