Shame.

That’s what you must’ve felt every time you met up with me. You claimed the way you looked at me is how you once looked at your wife, but I highly doubt it. With her, I bet it was true love, adoration, and care, but with me, it was pure lust; a need to seed. To use me as the piece of fuck-meat you so desperately craved.

You two made sweet, passionate love, while we had rough, disrespectful sex.

Not that I minded.

In many instances, you told me about the bliss of finishing inside her bits. You beamed with pride – all of this while I’m covered in your semen of course. When alone, I laughed at the irony of it all.

“I came inside of her yesterday morning and it was so wonderful,” you’d say.

“Awww, that’s so sweet,” I’d reply with your spunk dripping off my face and onto my gigantic, whore tits.

And who could forget how you shook when you first saw my upgrade to thirty-two double G weeks after that?

“Oh my God, yes!” you said with a leer.

“It’ll cost more going forward. Bigger means more demand.”

“Yes, yes that’s fine.”

It really was. Your motor-boating left me in tears and you peeped through my valleys with that kind smile. I returned one and blew a kiss from my pumped up lips.

The last of a dying breed: The John who’d come to fuck. Not video subscriptions or customs of me giving jerk off instructions. A man who took his hard-earned cash and decided, “Hey, I want to fuck that slut over there.”

But that time has passed.

No more hearing of the wonderful life you and your wife shared. No more feeling the roughness of your shag, and the kindness after it finished or before it began. Instead, I sat there in all black. The veil of my broad-rim hat I used to shield myself in the hopes of remaining anonymous. Of course, one couldn’t be inconspicuous with these lusty chest balls in front of me.

Hell, it was worth the try.

I really should have kept away. It’s not as if I was an important part of your life. You’d come, pay for my services, cum then leave. We’d talk and such, but I knew at the end of the day what it was. I was your cum-bucket first; company second. Nothing to be acknowledged in public.

A sea of black swarmed about as I stayed seated, but it wasn’t enough to hide from her. She had approached with her hands clasped and a smiling face accompanied by sad, red eyes.

“Ma’am,” she said, “My husband told me all about you.”

My heart raced and I swallowed sandpaper.

“Please Miss, I don’t want there to be a scene.” I bowed and fidgeted with my skirt hem.

“No, oh goodness please no. I would never consider such a thing. My husband loved and respected you too much for me to even go that route.”

I tilted my head up and knitted my brows, “Excuse me? I’m sorry; I believe you have the wrong person.”

“No, it’s okay. He would always be so happy when he was going to see you. And when he came home after, he would beam.” Her eyes glistened and a tear fell accompanied by a sniffle.

“I… I didn’t know.” A lump formed in my throat and my eyes burned.

“Yes.” She wiped the tear away. “I was so glad for him. Oh, he loved you so much, dear.”

“Mrs… I.” The burning turned into relief as tears spilt and my body jerked into a sob. “I thought being his… well I thought he would’ve been ashamed. Because I’m a…” I stood, parted my veil, and continued sobbing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are dear. He loved you and by extension, I do too. He had too much of it in him to give for me to be the only one receiving it. Come here dearie, come here.” She opened her arms and I took two steps before falling into them. I blubbered away, soaking her padded shoulder with tears, snot, and dribble.

“He was never ashamed of you, sweetie. Oh, there-there.”She caressed the nape of my neck and sighed.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My beliefs on love were wrong all along? In your own way, that was how you felt about me, didn’t you? I listened to you, but you’d listen to me too. You’d fuck me hard like a porn slut, but always made sure I climaxed first – and have multiples afterward. Always paused to make sure I was okay during. Brought me stuff to eat with every visit and occasionally bringing books for me to read in my spare time. Watching TV and movies after we did our business sometimes and laughing to our heart’s content. Inviting me to go out and I’d always turn the offers down.

Wow.

Your embarrassment of me was all in my head; something I conjured up because the truth was you weren’t ashamed of me, I was of you. I denied the possibility of a John actually viewing me as a human being. Seeing me as more than a cock-sleeve.  I was distressed by my growing infatuation for you, my growing affection. Something I was taught to never entertain when I broke into this business.

Well, you were not ashamed of me, and now I readily admit to my strong feelings toward you. If you, a John could love me and your wife at the same time, then I a prostitute… a whore, could do just the same, maybe even more.

I miss you and I love you my sweet John, and no longer in my heart is there any more shame.