Magnificent Melissa
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Memoir, Culture, Escorts, Sex Work, Erotica

Magnificent Melissa

Double D’s if you please

the real Melissa — photo by author

This is actually not a phony story. Written for my magazine in which I did real reviews of real girls, the following is a genuine encounter.

TIME: About midnight several weeks ago. PLACE: The girls’ lounge at a big Midtown incall. The scene is as usual with television tuned to BET and a rap video playing. The place is a mess. Clothes, blankets, shoes, boots, and especially, half-eaten take-out food litters the room. Hey! The girls are sloppy. No big surprise. One lady is stretched out on the couch…fast asleep and in no condition to introduce.

Those who are awake are in deep conversation. The subjects run the customary gamut: Clothes, rappers, clubs, gossip about other girls, other houses, regular tricks, and everybody else’s body parts…be they working girls or clients.

A very beautiful but almost brain-dead Amer/Asian asks me for the hundredth time the name and number of a doctor who does butt injections. She wants a bigger ass. And so does her “man.” Then she starts in talking about one of the house regulars almost every girl has seen.

“So-and-so needs an implant,” she teases referring to the diminutive size of the guy’s organ.

I roll my eyes to myself. I’ve heard flat-butted/small-chested chicks make fun of under-endowed guys a hundred times. I look around the room as the conversation about the size of the male organ continues. There isn’t a decent set of juggs in the whole joint. They got a lot of nerve!

One of the girls has the stupidest looking implants I’ve ever seen. Another has a fabulous butt but almost no tits at all. Whatever…I take a few shots of one of the girls the owner has requested I photograph, and head back to my apartment to meet an old cab driver buddy for a drink.

Half an hour later I’m home and hanging with my knucklehead amigo. We’re going to some bar. But before we leave, he has to rummage through all the piles of photos to gawk the girls.

“Billy…show me which girls you’ve had sex with in these pictures,” comes his juvenile request. I take a few minutes to separate out a few shots for his edification. And as we peruse the babes I’ve bagged, two things become apparent.

First is they’re almost all not caucasian. And second, none has very large breasts. I begin to ponder the situation within the context of my earliere-tht-evening visit and think to myself “let me be like one of those hoochies I was just hanging with. Fuck style, grace, class, and all that. The next girl I boff is going to have a big, gorgeous, natural, and very succulent set of the most fabulous mammaries I can find on the beat.” John and I high-five each other as I verbalize my observations. “Yeah! Big fuckin’ tits,” he guffaws as we exit to a bar to gawk at babes.

The next day I consider my options. Mirror, mirror on the wall…who has the largest, most perfectly shaped, most delicious tits of them all? And then I think Melissa.

Melissa is a South American woman…part of what I call “The Million Brazilian Cotillion,” who doesn’t advertise with me…but just secured a sublease for a Midtown apartment where she plans to strike out on her own…rather than work for the madam by whom she was previously employed.

I’ve known Melissa for about two years and always liked her quiet, unassuming personality, her cute little smile, and her large, round and sizzlingly sumptuous set of natural D’s.

I called her cell phone number, which she’d given me several months prior, found her on the other end and made my pitch. It was time for her to advertise and as a token of my generosity (yeah, right), I offered her a free ad in exchange for a session.

Melissa had turned me down before, not wanting to get intimate with somebody who is so involved with her colleagues. But this time (I guess because she had an apartment and really did need to start advertising), she accepted my offer.

And so I headed over with a bottle of wine…and images of all the drooling, jealous size-freak working girls sucking and fondling those fantastic Melissa melons.

The irony of the whole situation is that of all the working girls I’ve ever dealt with, Melissa is the least nasty, the least gossipy, and the least whorish sex-for-sale woman I’ve ever met. No doubt, every client I’ve ever had sex with has gone back to her friends and described in great detail, the length, girth, hardness, and staying-power of my private parts. One or two have even reviewed my performance while I was still there! Melissa is the one girl who would never do that. A discreet working girl? C’mon. Who are we kidding? Well, no lie. Melissa is a lady…for real.

Anyway…we sat at her table…talking about relationships and love and the kind of stuff that guys and girls talk about on a real date. And I soon discovered that she’s really just an old fashioned girl, lonely in the city, and looking for someone to love her.

Toiling as a working girl is something she does not because she enjoys it particularly (although she is capable of falling for a client)…just because she has no other choice. Melissa talked about going back to school and finding a better way…which is great….but what I really observed as I looked into her eyes is a girl who wants a man to take care of her. Not one she can get over on and abuse…but one she can love and cherish forever and ever amen. It’s a funny thing. The girl with the most awesome endowment…the one who has the breasts all those dopey incall girls would kill for…is the most reserved of them all.

And so as we sipped our drinks and began to melt in the moment, the bed seemed to beckon. The entire process was completely natural. A gentle hug, a little bouncing and rubbing, and we were ready for the show. As is usually the case, I lay my prey down on the bed naked to massage, knead, and fondle the object of my enslavement. Melissa was no exception.

I do this for a few reasons. Because girls do talk. And given that I do business with them, I feel it imperative to show respect and consideration. If I don’t get reviewed as a stud, I at least want the gossip to be that I’m a nice guy and an easy session.

Second, I really do love to massage and fondle the female form. It’s not a chore…it’s a privilege.

And third, it’s a partially masturbatory exercise. I’m not just playing with them…I’m playing with myself as well.

Anyway…enough of my sexual psyche and how I feel about women. Who the fuck cares? Tell us about Melissa’s big juggs! Ok! They really were (and are) fabulous. Big breasts are one thing…and nice breasts are another. And rarely does one woman get both. Well, Melissa’s got both…BIG TIME.

I didn’t pay any particular extra attention to her pulchritudinous pillows. Rather, I gave all her body parts equal time. But I certainly did notice how large and full and firm they felt in my grimy paws.

But more important, I felt like I was making love to a date more than like I was groping an escort. And if Melissa has one quality more unique in a working girl than having big and beautiful breasts, it’s that she’s more ladylike than any working girl I’ve ever known.

In deference to her discretion, I will not chronicle the gory details of every thrust, moan, groan, and squirt during our session. That would only serve as an indignity to a very discreet encounter. What I will say is that I found Melissa to be very deep, wet, delicious, and especially satisfying in the missionary position. She’s very strong in the pelvic area and met my every downstroke with a powerfully engulfing upstroke of her own. Or to be more direct and to the point in a magazine of this genre…she fucked the shit out of me and made cum like a madman.

Another thing I really liked about Melissa was that she didn’t have a big attitude or a big ego about her big chest. It wasn’t as if she exuded an air of “I have fabulous breasts and you’re lucky to be in their presence.” Nope! Just a girl next door looking for a little love, a little affection, and a hot orgasm as she pays the bills.

If you’re looking for a nasty whore to smack you upside the head with her big tits and hiss “pound me with that stiff fucking dick” as you do the wild thing, Melissa’s not your girl. But if you want a sensuous experience with somebody real and sincere who just happens to have one of the most beautiful set of breasts you’ll ever see or feel…then Melissa is the one.