My life took on a new challenge after graduating from Newborough High School with honours, at the end of 1980. All my life, I had lived in the small country mining town of Yallourn. The town was dug up for the brown coal beneath it in 1980, which meant moving with my parents and brother to its sister town of Yallourn North, some three miles away. A country girl by heart, I left the country and my family, to study Journalism at the University of Melbourne; some ninety miles away.
My parents were relatively poor and could not afford to pay my university fees, my accommodation rent, or my everyday expenses living in Melbourne. For two years, I worked every Friday night and Saturday night, working part-time as a waitress in a trendy South Yarra restaurant. The wages were poor but the tips from affluent patrons enabled me to survive.
Melbourne at that time was notorious for gangland extortions and reprisals. The restaurant where I worked was destroyed by a bomb blast early one morning, in late November of 1982. After just successfully completing my second year at university, I needed to find another job to fund my final year in 1983. Throughout the summer break, I searched in vain for another job.
Gayla, one of two other women that I shared a house with in South Yarra, offered me a job if I was desperate. The job on offer was as a prostitute at The Gentle Touch massage parlour. The parlour fronted as Melbourne’s biggest brothel and I was asked to prostitute myself in order to survive. Having no other option, I swallowed my pride and I sold myself to the Devil. I worked two nights a week there on weekends, when the brothel was at its busiest. The business was profitable and covered all my expenses. Before long, I proved to be a very popular commodity for The Gentle Touch, with clients queued up to avail my services. Towards the middle of the year, I had progressed to also work regularly as a call girl.
My second semester exams had just been completed and I was now enjoying the mid-year semester break. I was sitting on the couch with Gayla one cold wintry day in June, watching some old VHS movies that we hired from a local video shop. They were both Clint Eastwood classics; namely: A Fist Full of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More. Half way through A Fist Full of Dollars, the telephone rang, so Gayla answered the phone.
“It’s for you Tracey. It’s the manageress from The Gentle Touch,” Gayla called out from across the room.
On answering the phone, I was offered a call job to service a guy staying at The Rialto Hotel, a prestigious Hotel in Collins St in inner Melbourne. After accepting her request, I was briefed with the following instructions. One of the drivers/minders from The Gentle Touch would pick me up from home at 5:45pm. I was to wear an evening gown or similar standard, due to the class of the hotel I was going to. On arrival, I was to go to reception and ask them to page a Mr Jon Ramsey. My final instruction was that the booking was for a four hour period, ending at midnight. Gayla was happy for me and wished me luck.
At 5:45 pm sharp, I was duly picked up by my chauffeur and driven to The Rialto Hotel. After alighting from the car, I entered the foyer, went to reception and spoke to the front-desk clerk. Less than a minute after having Jon Ramsey paged, he appeared at reception where we met for the first time. After briefly introducing ourselves as Jon and Cinnamon (my working name), he ushered me to a nearby wine bar for a drink before going to the restaurant.
I was wearing a full length mint green gown, matching bag, large sterling silver earrings, sterling silver bracelet, silver high-heel shoes and a silver fox fur stole.
“Cinnamon, you look absolutely resplendent in your choice of evening wear,” Jon said, in what appeared to be an American accent.
“Thank you very much Jon, I take that as a compliment. I do try to please my clients and offer some class when engaged in business,” I replied with a warm welcoming smile.
The both of us then took a seat as we awaited our drinks. While continuing our conversation, Jon enquired, “If it is not too rude of me, may I ask how old you are Cinnamon?
Even though I thought it was none of his business, I replied by saying,” I am nineteen years old Jon.”
“What is an attractive young woman like you doing working in this kind of profession?” Jon awkwardly muttered.
I then proceeded to tell him I had moved from the country to Melbourne to study journalism at university, about the fire-bombing at the restaurant I had been working at, and the need to make ends meet with everyday living. I told Jon that my decision was not really by choice but simply for survival, in getting my BA degree in Journalism. For the next half hour or so, I poured out my life story to him as he listened intently.
“Cinnamon, are you ready to accompany me to the restaurant and order a meal,” Jon asked enquiringly.
With a nod of my head and a smile, I replied, “Yes Jon, I am ready for a meal now.” We then headed into the next room and ordered our meals.
I had been observing Jon’s character since we met, trying to fathom his demeanour and what he does. Quite frankly, I may as well have tried to read a chess player or a professional poker player. Jon was quite tall with an angular face, a dimple on his chin, had no lobes on his ears, light brown crew-cut hairstyle and wore smart fashioned clothing. At a guess I would pick him as being about 6’-2” tall and weighing about 170 pounds.
While awaiting our meal and during our meal, I gleaned a lot of information about Jon; there was much more to him than met the eye. Jon was born in California in the United States of America and was of distant Native American descent from the Mojave tribe. Jon graduated from the California State Polytechnic University, Pomona; an outer suburb of Los Angeles.
Jon was instrumental in the commissioning of the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station in California. His expertise in nuclear power stations had led him to travelling around the world as a consultant on nuclear energy. Jon went on to divulge that he was fifty-one years old, divorced and the father of two grown children. Due to extended periods away from home and overseas on business, as well as some infidelity; had led him to an amicable divorce from his lovely wife Joanne.
Butting into his life story, I asked, “So what are you doing here in Australia? Do you have a current girlfriend or acquaintance back home?”
Jon continued his dialog saying he spent the past six months in Sydney employed as a consultant at Lucas Heights. Lucas Heights is the site of the Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation research establishment. Lucas Heights was also home to the historic HIFAR research nuclear reactor. Another duty Jon was burdened with was to lecture at the Australian Institute of Nuclear Science and Engineering, also at Lucas Heights. Jon was also responsible for the waste-management facility in the disposal of nuclear waste there.
Butting in again, I hesitantly asked Jon, “In all your time in Australia, have you been with another woman?”
“It’s funny you should mention that Cinnamon. To be perfectly honest, the answer is yes,” Jon replied.
He went on to tell me that he had neither been to a prostitute before, nor had he paid for any sex while he had been here. While in Sydney, on his last night there, he went to the Café Sopra in Walsh Bay, for a meal. It was there he met a married woman, a Mrs Candice Bentley. They struck up a conversation and a flickering flame between them turned into a torrid furnace. It was then that Jon realized he still needed a woman for company.
After the meal was finished, we both caught the elevator from the foyer and headed to the third floor where Jon was staying. He had been talking about having company for his remaining ten days in Australia. I knew if I played my cards right, I could make a fist full of dollars from Jon.
On entering his expensive suite which had a very expensive decor, I was expecting him to undress me before fucking me. It was then he told me that he had to meet with the Victorian Government regarding a feasibility study into a nuclear power station in Victoria. The selected sites were Newport D in Melbourne; or Jeeralang, a locality very close to where I lived in the Latrobe Valley. He wanted a woman with him twenty-four hours a day.
The time was approaching midnight and my driver was expecting me outside the hotel soon after, to take me back home. For the four hour booking that night, it cost Jon eight hundred dollars. Four hundred was mine and the other for hundred was divided by the driver and The Gentle Touch massage parlour. It was then I put my proposal to Jon.
“Jon, if you want a woman with you, twenty-four hours a day; it will cost you five thousand dollars a day. I will get half and the establishment will get the other half. I have a proposition for you should you want my services over that period. I am willing to charge you only two thousand dollars a day. The money goes directly to my bank account and we bypass the establishment. Nobody needs to know of our arrangement,” I said to him.
Jon’s reply was, “You are a good business woman Cinnamon. I like your proposition and I will call you in the morning. Can I please have your telephone number?”
Before leaving, Jon had only one request; that I strip quickly for him, so he could view my wares. I obliged and was soon standing naked in front of him.
My parents were relatively poor and could not afford to pay my university fees, my accommodation rent, or my everyday expenses living in Melbourne. For two years, I worked every Friday night and Saturday night, working part-time as a waitress in a trendy South Yarra restaurant. The wages were poor but the tips from affluent patrons enabled me to survive.
Melbourne at that time was notorious for gangland extortions and reprisals. The restaurant where I worked was destroyed by a bomb blast early one morning, in late November of 1982. After just successfully completing my second year at university, I needed to find another job to fund my final year in 1983. Throughout the summer break, I searched in vain for another job.
Gayla, one of two other women that I shared a house with in South Yarra, offered me a job if I was desperate. The job on offer was as a prostitute at The Gentle Touch massage parlour. The parlour fronted as Melbourne’s biggest brothel and I was asked to prostitute myself in order to survive. Having no other option, I swallowed my pride and I sold myself to the Devil. I worked two nights a week there on weekends, when the brothel was at its busiest. The business was profitable and covered all my expenses. Before long, I proved to be a very popular commodity for The Gentle Touch, with clients queued up to avail my services. Towards the middle of the year, I had progressed to also work regularly as a call girl.
My second semester exams had just been completed and I was now enjoying the mid-year semester break. I was sitting on the couch with Gayla one cold wintry day in June, watching some old VHS movies that we hired from a local video shop. They were both Clint Eastwood classics; namely: A Fist Full of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More. Half way through A Fist Full of Dollars, the telephone rang, so Gayla answered the phone.
“It’s for you Tracey. It’s the manageress from The Gentle Touch,” Gayla called out from across the room.
On answering the phone, I was offered a call job to service a guy staying at The Rialto Hotel, a prestigious Hotel in Collins St in inner Melbourne. After accepting her request, I was briefed with the following instructions. One of the drivers/minders from The Gentle Touch would pick me up from home at 5:45pm. I was to wear an evening gown or similar standard, due to the class of the hotel I was going to. On arrival, I was to go to reception and ask them to page a Mr Jon Ramsey. My final instruction was that the booking was for a four hour period, ending at midnight. Gayla was happy for me and wished me luck.
At 5:45 pm sharp, I was duly picked up by my chauffeur and driven to The Rialto Hotel. After alighting from the car, I entered the foyer, went to reception and spoke to the front-desk clerk. Less than a minute after having Jon Ramsey paged, he appeared at reception where we met for the first time. After briefly introducing ourselves as Jon and Cinnamon (my working name), he ushered me to a nearby wine bar for a drink before going to the restaurant.
I was wearing a full length mint green gown, matching bag, large sterling silver earrings, sterling silver bracelet, silver high-heel shoes and a silver fox fur stole.
“Cinnamon, you look absolutely resplendent in your choice of evening wear,” Jon said, in what appeared to be an American accent.
“Thank you very much Jon, I take that as a compliment. I do try to please my clients and offer some class when engaged in business,” I replied with a warm welcoming smile.
The both of us then took a seat as we awaited our drinks. While continuing our conversation, Jon enquired, “If it is not too rude of me, may I ask how old you are Cinnamon?
Even though I thought it was none of his business, I replied by saying,” I am nineteen years old Jon.”
“What is an attractive young woman like you doing working in this kind of profession?” Jon awkwardly muttered.
I then proceeded to tell him I had moved from the country to Melbourne to study journalism at university, about the fire-bombing at the restaurant I had been working at, and the need to make ends meet with everyday living. I told Jon that my decision was not really by choice but simply for survival, in getting my BA degree in Journalism. For the next half hour or so, I poured out my life story to him as he listened intently.
“Cinnamon, are you ready to accompany me to the restaurant and order a meal,” Jon asked enquiringly.
With a nod of my head and a smile, I replied, “Yes Jon, I am ready for a meal now.” We then headed into the next room and ordered our meals.
I had been observing Jon’s character since we met, trying to fathom his demeanour and what he does. Quite frankly, I may as well have tried to read a chess player or a professional poker player. Jon was quite tall with an angular face, a dimple on his chin, had no lobes on his ears, light brown crew-cut hairstyle and wore smart fashioned clothing. At a guess I would pick him as being about 6’-2” tall and weighing about 170 pounds.
While awaiting our meal and during our meal, I gleaned a lot of information about Jon; there was much more to him than met the eye. Jon was born in California in the United States of America and was of distant Native American descent from the Mojave tribe. Jon graduated from the California State Polytechnic University, Pomona; an outer suburb of Los Angeles.
Jon was instrumental in the commissioning of the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station in California. His expertise in nuclear power stations had led him to travelling around the world as a consultant on nuclear energy. Jon went on to divulge that he was fifty-one years old, divorced and the father of two grown children. Due to extended periods away from home and overseas on business, as well as some infidelity; had led him to an amicable divorce from his lovely wife Joanne.
Butting into his life story, I asked, “So what are you doing here in Australia? Do you have a current girlfriend or acquaintance back home?”
Jon continued his dialog saying he spent the past six months in Sydney employed as a consultant at Lucas Heights. Lucas Heights is the site of the Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation research establishment. Lucas Heights was also home to the historic HIFAR research nuclear reactor. Another duty Jon was burdened with was to lecture at the Australian Institute of Nuclear Science and Engineering, also at Lucas Heights. Jon was also responsible for the waste-management facility in the disposal of nuclear waste there.
Butting in again, I hesitantly asked Jon, “In all your time in Australia, have you been with another woman?”
“It’s funny you should mention that Cinnamon. To be perfectly honest, the answer is yes,” Jon replied.
He went on to tell me that he had neither been to a prostitute before, nor had he paid for any sex while he had been here. While in Sydney, on his last night there, he went to the Café Sopra in Walsh Bay, for a meal. It was there he met a married woman, a Mrs Candice Bentley. They struck up a conversation and a flickering flame between them turned into a torrid furnace. It was then that Jon realized he still needed a woman for company.
After the meal was finished, we both caught the elevator from the foyer and headed to the third floor where Jon was staying. He had been talking about having company for his remaining ten days in Australia. I knew if I played my cards right, I could make a fist full of dollars from Jon.
On entering his expensive suite which had a very expensive decor, I was expecting him to undress me before fucking me. It was then he told me that he had to meet with the Victorian Government regarding a feasibility study into a nuclear power station in Victoria. The selected sites were Newport D in Melbourne; or Jeeralang, a locality very close to where I lived in the Latrobe Valley. He wanted a woman with him twenty-four hours a day.
The time was approaching midnight and my driver was expecting me outside the hotel soon after, to take me back home. For the four hour booking that night, it cost Jon eight hundred dollars. Four hundred was mine and the other for hundred was divided by the driver and The Gentle Touch massage parlour. It was then I put my proposal to Jon.
“Jon, if you want a woman with you, twenty-four hours a day; it will cost you five thousand dollars a day. I will get half and the establishment will get the other half. I have a proposition for you should you want my services over that period. I am willing to charge you only two thousand dollars a day. The money goes directly to my bank account and we bypass the establishment. Nobody needs to know of our arrangement,” I said to him.
Jon’s reply was, “You are a good business woman Cinnamon. I like your proposition and I will call you in the morning. Can I please have your telephone number?”
Before leaving, Jon had only one request; that I strip quickly for him, so he could view my wares. I obliged and was soon standing naked in front of him.
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Looking down to his crotch, I could see a growing bulge appear, signs that I met his approval. Quickly dressing again, I kissed Jon goodbye for the night and told him he wouldn’t be sorry if he wanted me for those other nine days. As I was being driven back home, I could see hundred dollar notes flashing before my eyes.
The following morning, I was anxiously waiting for a telephone for a call from Jon. What I had suggested to Jon the previous night went against management policy at The Gentle Touch. Being owned by a crime syndicate, I could easily be disposed of and found floating in the Yarra River for holding out on them with their precious money. Around 8:15am, the phone rang; it was Jon calling to confirm he wanted me for the remaining nine days. Jon informed me he had to meet with Rupert Hamer, the Premier of Victoria and some of his ministers regarding a possible nuclear plant to be constructed in Victoria. He asked me to be at The Rialto Hotel at 3:00pm sharp.
“Who was that on the phone? Gayla asked me inquisitively.
“It was only my mother Gayla. Mum and dad want me home during the school holidays as they haven’t seen me for a while. Dad is in poor health as well.” I replied, telling her a fib.
“What about work on Friday and Saturday night,” Gayla queried.
“I will phone up the manageress and tell her I can’t work this weekend as my parents need to see me. “ I had to cover my butt somehow and that was as good an excuse I could come up with.
During the morning, I packed my bags when Gayla wasn’t around; to avoid any suspicion. I told her I was catching the afternoon train at Flinders Street Station to go home on and see my parents. Some fifteen minutes before three o’clock, my taxi arrived outside and I asked the cabbie to take me to The Rialto Hotel.
Jon was patiently waiting for me at the foyer. On my arrival, he approached the concierge to take my bags to his room. Jon had had a long day with the Victorian Government and he looked a little tired. Needing a dink to relax, John ushered me to a private lounge within The Rialto. I ordered a Brandy Alexander while Jon ordered a double Jack Daniels on the rocks. We chatted for about forty-five minutes before heading upstairs to his regal looking suite.
After entering his palatial suite with an expensive décor, Jon turned me around and kissed me. His embrace was firm and warm as our lips met for what seemed an eternity. Pulling back momentarily, Jon whispered in my ear that he had been dreaming of me all last night and throughout the day. Lowering my hand to his crotch, I could feel a hardness though his pants. I wanted his cock badly but I also wanted him to wait until he was primed and ready for me.
Nibbling on his ear lobe, I whispered in his ear, “I want to give you a massage that you will never forget Jon. Take off your clothes while I get the bed ready.”
I pulled back the bedding and the sheets and replaced them with the Rialto’s in-house towels. Going to one of my bags, I pulled out a bottle of fragrant massage oil that I used regularly; while Jon was undressing. I chose an apricot kernel oil as it is rich in vitamin E which is absorbed into the skin and doesn’t leave any greasiness afterwards. I got Jon to lie on his stomach while I climbed onto the bed and straddled his lower back, while resting on my knees.
My massage began working around his neck and shoulders, where I detected a couple of stress balls beneath the surface of his skin. Using my thumbs and fingers, I eventually worked them out. Leaning forward to both sides of his face, I massaged behind and inside his ears with my tongue, bringing a purring of approval. As I methodically worked down his back and sides of his torso, I moved my body down accordingly, resting gently on his hamstrings.
Climbing off Jon’s body, I was now standing at the foot of the bed. I opened his legs wide enough to expose some of his scrotum and his anus. I rimmed around his anus for several minutes, teasing him and driving him wild with desire. Burying my face between his legs, I was able to tease his scrotum with my tongue and mouth. I finally worked my way down his calf muscles, ankles, feet and toes. All the time, I applied small amounts of lubrication with the apricot kernel oil.
“Time to turn over now Jon,” I whispered teasingly in his ear. His cock wasn’t fully hard but it had responded somewhat to the first part of my massage. Now straddled across his chest with my weight taken on my knees, Jon had a view and access to my breasts and inviting pussy. I dabbed some apricot kernel oil on my fingers and spread it over his forehead, temples and cheeks; soothingly massaging it into the pores of his skin. Leaning forward, I gently nibbled on his lips before giving him a gentle kiss on his mouth.
Sliding my body back, I rubbed some oil onto his sparsely haired chest. I could feel his now hard cock pressing against my butt as I worked in a rhythmical pattern down his body. Before long, I slid down further on Jon’s torso before commencing to massage his inner loins; all the time gently brushing against his scrotum. Several minutes later, I grasped his cock in my hand and started massaging his shaft with my tongue. I slowly worked my way up to the bulbous head at the end. Retracting, to avoid a premature accident, I then took his scrotum in my mouth and gently sucked on it; feeling his balls through the membrane wall.
After completing the massage on his shins, feet and toes; I then lay prone above him and started to body surf his body. The apricot oil gave the right blend of friction and lubrication for the perfect massage. Raising my body a little, I massaged his lips, chest and cock with my nipples; this was erotica at its very best.
“Fuck me Cinnamon! Fuck me hard. I can’t take any more of this,” Jon exclaimed.
Climbing back on the bed and straddling his body, cowgirl style; I leant over and kissed him as I guided his throbbing rampant cock deep inside my pussy. For each thrust from his cock, my breasts reciprocated and tantalizingly bounced across his mouth. Tightening my pelvic muscles resulted in a clam like grip on his engorged erect cock. Before long, I could feel the vibrations of an orgasm starting to build. Contracting my pelvic muscles to the fullest, caused a volcano-like reaction. As Jon’s body began to spasm uncontrollably, seven or eight eruptions of his hot white lava filled my pussy.
“Thank you Cinnamon. That was the best fuck I have ever had in my life. Where did you learn such wonderful techniques?” Jon panted out while trying to gain his breath.
I rolled off his body and waited for his cream pie to ooze out of my vagina. Gathering his hot sticky cum in my fingers, I proceeded to lick my fingers clean and swallow his load. After French kissing Jon fully on his mouth, we cuddled up together to regain our strength.
After showering, Jon paged room service and ordered a meal and a bottle of wine for each of us. That night, we fucked twice more like horny lovers, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Jon was now mine for the remainder of his visit and my fistful of dollars had come into fruition. Each day, Jon deposited two thousand dollars into my bank account; something that I appreciated immensely.
Jon’s final eight days saw him visit the Jeeralang site for a possible nuclear power station in the Latrobe Valley for two days. During those days, I spent some valuable time with my parents. In the afternoon, Jon would pick me up from home and we would stay together in a motel in Morwell. For the other days, I showed Jon as much of Melbourne and Victoria as I could during the day; while at night, I took care of all his sexual needs
On Jon’s last day, he asked me to reveal my living address in Melbourne. He had won my trust and I gave it to him without any reservation. Jon told me he had some unfinished business to do and would be back early in the afternoon. I stayed in his suite at The Rialto Hotel, awaiting his return. After Jon returned, we made love for the last time; and I mean love. It wasn’t a quick fuck for money and be gone, but for a mutual respect for each other.
At 6:00pm I accompanied Jon to Tullamarine Airport, to bid Jon farewell. Tears welled in my eyes as he left the departure lounge to board a QANTAS flight back to America. Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of money but I would have gladly traded it for Jon himself.
I started university the following week to begin the third semester. On arriving home one afternoon, there was some guy parked outside the house where I lived; in what appeared to be a brand new car.
Alighting from the car, he approached me and asked, “Are you Miss Tracey Ames?”
“Yes I am. How can I help you?” I replied.
“Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that you are now the owner of a brand new Ford Fairlane motor car,” he said as he handed me the keys.
I shook with excitement as it was something out of the blue. It was Jon’s way of saying thanks for a great time as well as goodbye. Jon knew I needed a car to visit my parents more often and this car provided that means.
On the driver’s seat was an envelope which contained a short note, saying:
“Dearest Tracey/Cinnamon
Thank you for giving me such a wonderful time in Australia. Your friendship will never be forgotten. Good luck for the future and if you ever come to California, you know where to contact me.
Fondest Memories
Jon”
So, not only did I have a fistful of dollars, but I also finished up with a few dollars more.
The following morning, I was anxiously waiting for a telephone for a call from Jon. What I had suggested to Jon the previous night went against management policy at The Gentle Touch. Being owned by a crime syndicate, I could easily be disposed of and found floating in the Yarra River for holding out on them with their precious money. Around 8:15am, the phone rang; it was Jon calling to confirm he wanted me for the remaining nine days. Jon informed me he had to meet with Rupert Hamer, the Premier of Victoria and some of his ministers regarding a possible nuclear plant to be constructed in Victoria. He asked me to be at The Rialto Hotel at 3:00pm sharp.
“Who was that on the phone? Gayla asked me inquisitively.
“It was only my mother Gayla. Mum and dad want me home during the school holidays as they haven’t seen me for a while. Dad is in poor health as well.” I replied, telling her a fib.
“What about work on Friday and Saturday night,” Gayla queried.
“I will phone up the manageress and tell her I can’t work this weekend as my parents need to see me. “ I had to cover my butt somehow and that was as good an excuse I could come up with.
During the morning, I packed my bags when Gayla wasn’t around; to avoid any suspicion. I told her I was catching the afternoon train at Flinders Street Station to go home on and see my parents. Some fifteen minutes before three o’clock, my taxi arrived outside and I asked the cabbie to take me to The Rialto Hotel.
Jon was patiently waiting for me at the foyer. On my arrival, he approached the concierge to take my bags to his room. Jon had had a long day with the Victorian Government and he looked a little tired. Needing a dink to relax, John ushered me to a private lounge within The Rialto. I ordered a Brandy Alexander while Jon ordered a double Jack Daniels on the rocks. We chatted for about forty-five minutes before heading upstairs to his regal looking suite.
After entering his palatial suite with an expensive décor, Jon turned me around and kissed me. His embrace was firm and warm as our lips met for what seemed an eternity. Pulling back momentarily, Jon whispered in my ear that he had been dreaming of me all last night and throughout the day. Lowering my hand to his crotch, I could feel a hardness though his pants. I wanted his cock badly but I also wanted him to wait until he was primed and ready for me.
Nibbling on his ear lobe, I whispered in his ear, “I want to give you a massage that you will never forget Jon. Take off your clothes while I get the bed ready.”
I pulled back the bedding and the sheets and replaced them with the Rialto’s in-house towels. Going to one of my bags, I pulled out a bottle of fragrant massage oil that I used regularly; while Jon was undressing. I chose an apricot kernel oil as it is rich in vitamin E which is absorbed into the skin and doesn’t leave any greasiness afterwards. I got Jon to lie on his stomach while I climbed onto the bed and straddled his lower back, while resting on my knees.
My massage began working around his neck and shoulders, where I detected a couple of stress balls beneath the surface of his skin. Using my thumbs and fingers, I eventually worked them out. Leaning forward to both sides of his face, I massaged behind and inside his ears with my tongue, bringing a purring of approval. As I methodically worked down his back and sides of his torso, I moved my body down accordingly, resting gently on his hamstrings.
Climbing off Jon’s body, I was now standing at the foot of the bed. I opened his legs wide enough to expose some of his scrotum and his anus. I rimmed around his anus for several minutes, teasing him and driving him wild with desire. Burying my face between his legs, I was able to tease his scrotum with my tongue and mouth. I finally worked my way down his calf muscles, ankles, feet and toes. All the time, I applied small amounts of lubrication with the apricot kernel oil.
“Time to turn over now Jon,” I whispered teasingly in his ear. His cock wasn’t fully hard but it had responded somewhat to the first part of my massage. Now straddled across his chest with my weight taken on my knees, Jon had a view and access to my breasts and inviting pussy. I dabbed some apricot kernel oil on my fingers and spread it over his forehead, temples and cheeks; soothingly massaging it into the pores of his skin. Leaning forward, I gently nibbled on his lips before giving him a gentle kiss on his mouth.
Sliding my body back, I rubbed some oil onto his sparsely haired chest. I could feel his now hard cock pressing against my butt as I worked in a rhythmical pattern down his body. Before long, I slid down further on Jon’s torso before commencing to massage his inner loins; all the time gently brushing against his scrotum. Several minutes later, I grasped his cock in my hand and started massaging his shaft with my tongue. I slowly worked my way up to the bulbous head at the end. Retracting, to avoid a premature accident, I then took his scrotum in my mouth and gently sucked on it; feeling his balls through the membrane wall.
After completing the massage on his shins, feet and toes; I then lay prone above him and started to body surf his body. The apricot oil gave the right blend of friction and lubrication for the perfect massage. Raising my body a little, I massaged his lips, chest and cock with my nipples; this was erotica at its very best.
“Fuck me Cinnamon! Fuck me hard. I can’t take any more of this,” Jon exclaimed.
Climbing back on the bed and straddling his body, cowgirl style; I leant over and kissed him as I guided his throbbing rampant cock deep inside my pussy. For each thrust from his cock, my breasts reciprocated and tantalizingly bounced across his mouth. Tightening my pelvic muscles resulted in a clam like grip on his engorged erect cock. Before long, I could feel the vibrations of an orgasm starting to build. Contracting my pelvic muscles to the fullest, caused a volcano-like reaction. As Jon’s body began to spasm uncontrollably, seven or eight eruptions of his hot white lava filled my pussy.
“Thank you Cinnamon. That was the best fuck I have ever had in my life. Where did you learn such wonderful techniques?” Jon panted out while trying to gain his breath.
I rolled off his body and waited for his cream pie to ooze out of my vagina. Gathering his hot sticky cum in my fingers, I proceeded to lick my fingers clean and swallow his load. After French kissing Jon fully on his mouth, we cuddled up together to regain our strength.
After showering, Jon paged room service and ordered a meal and a bottle of wine for each of us. That night, we fucked twice more like horny lovers, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Jon was now mine for the remainder of his visit and my fistful of dollars had come into fruition. Each day, Jon deposited two thousand dollars into my bank account; something that I appreciated immensely.
Jon’s final eight days saw him visit the Jeeralang site for a possible nuclear power station in the Latrobe Valley for two days. During those days, I spent some valuable time with my parents. In the afternoon, Jon would pick me up from home and we would stay together in a motel in Morwell. For the other days, I showed Jon as much of Melbourne and Victoria as I could during the day; while at night, I took care of all his sexual needs
On Jon’s last day, he asked me to reveal my living address in Melbourne. He had won my trust and I gave it to him without any reservation. Jon told me he had some unfinished business to do and would be back early in the afternoon. I stayed in his suite at The Rialto Hotel, awaiting his return. After Jon returned, we made love for the last time; and I mean love. It wasn’t a quick fuck for money and be gone, but for a mutual respect for each other.
At 6:00pm I accompanied Jon to Tullamarine Airport, to bid Jon farewell. Tears welled in my eyes as he left the departure lounge to board a QANTAS flight back to America. Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of money but I would have gladly traded it for Jon himself.
I started university the following week to begin the third semester. On arriving home one afternoon, there was some guy parked outside the house where I lived; in what appeared to be a brand new car.
Alighting from the car, he approached me and asked, “Are you Miss Tracey Ames?”
“Yes I am. How can I help you?” I replied.
“Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that you are now the owner of a brand new Ford Fairlane motor car,” he said as he handed me the keys.
I shook with excitement as it was something out of the blue. It was Jon’s way of saying thanks for a great time as well as goodbye. Jon knew I needed a car to visit my parents more often and this car provided that means.
On the driver’s seat was an envelope which contained a short note, saying:
“Dearest Tracey/Cinnamon
Thank you for giving me such a wonderful time in Australia. Your friendship will never be forgotten. Good luck for the future and if you ever come to California, you know where to contact me.
Fondest Memories
Jon”
So, not only did I have a fistful of dollars, but I also finished up with a few dollars more.
