She Didn’t Know What She Wanted, So I Showed Her

A NSWF story about touch, trust, and coming home to your body. If you want the XXX versions of my stories subscribe to my email list and I'll send you some really raunchy emails. Plus all my subscribers get exclusive content and a free gift. xx V

My laptop pinged late one night—that familiar sound that usually means something’s landed in my inbox that can wait until morning. I’ve got a regular time block for admin, so I left it and started getting ready for bed.

But twenty minutes later, it pinged again.

Curiosity got the better of me. I flicked the bedside lamp back on and opened my laptop.

There it was—a beautifully vulnerable email from Cass.

Hi Victoria Rose, 

This is a bit embarrassing, my friend confided in me recently that she had booked time with you, and she hasn’t shut up about it. So I started following your page. I don’t really know what made me do it, but seeing my friend so lit up and happy really shone a light on what’s been happening to me these past couple of years. She has this new sense of confidence and clarity. A real sensual vixen energy! Something I feel is so far removed from who I am now—and I want to feel that way again. But I really don’t know what I want or how this might look for me.

I’ve had a couple of kids, and I feel so touched out. Disconnected. Like my body isn’t mine anymore. But I still think about sex. I just don’t know how to get back into it. I’ve tried several times to pleasure myself, and it’s confronting. My sensation has changed, I don’t get wet, and I feel like I’m never going to get it back. I thought that spending time with you—exploring my sexuality again—could ignite something in me, like it did for my friend. Can you help me?

She wrote it like a confession. But the words I read felt like the most natural thing in the world.

To me, desire doesn’t vanish—it just goes underground when priorities change. Layer that with competing responsibilities, feeling unappreciated, fatigue, hormone changes… and everything else that comes with motherhood. It can seem as though you’ve completely lost yourself in the process of creating another life. It can feel terrifying, and no one really talks about it or prepares you for the disconnect.

But it can come back. And when it’s ready, it comes back loudly—often in waves.

Perhaps not in the physical sense at first, but that yearning can reappear imminently. Yet sometimes, a woman can feel so disconnected from her body, her desires, or the idea that her sexual needs are even a priority, that it becomes too confronting to bear.

So I wrote back—with a bucketload of compassion and empathy. It’s the least I could do, considering she trusted me enough to disclose such intimate information.

Dear Cass,

Thank you so much for sharing such a personal experience. It means a lot to me that your friend had such a good time when we were together, and that it’s now having a positive ripple effect on you—ultimately bringing us together.

I certainly can help you. I would be honoured to create a space where you feel safe enough to explore your sexuality. Let’s organise a date and time that works for both of us.

The most important thing I want you to know right now: you don’t have to know what you want or need. Just bring your body and your curiosity. I’ll take care of the rest.

Warmly, Victoria

A few more email exchanges later, we made a mutual plan and booked a time when she could find a babysitter and be free of responsibility or expectation.

A week later, Cass showed up at my hotel—totally adorable and a little flustered. She was wearing soft cotton, a nervous giggle, and shallow breaths catching in her chest. I was so excited, I’d booked the fanciest place I could find. She said she’d never been somewhere so beautiful before.

I usually wear joggers and a beautiful dress, but my instincts told me to dial it back some more. I met her barefoot as I opened the door, wearing an oversized sexy grey jumper and denim jeans. I asked if she’d like a hug. She smiled and said yes. Then I handed her a glass of champagne and congratulated her for making it this far.

The candles were already lit. She blushed when I kissed her cheek. I was already playing her favourite music—I always ask new clients what they’d like to listen to, especially if they’re feeling nervous.

She laughed softly when I said, “I wasn’t sure what to wear—do I dress to impress, or dress to corrupt?” and gave her a cheeky smile.

We spoke about boundaries. Cass said she was open to exploring whatever felt natural. What she really wanted was for us to explore each other without expectation or demands.

“Got it!” I said.

Before we started, I walked her over to my table of toys and lotions. I explained that everything here was available to play with, but I wouldn’t touch any of them until she reached out to grab one.

We started slow. I offered her a massage. She smiled and said yes—mentioning she hadn’t had one in years. I love giving massages, so I was thrilled.

Cass laid face-down on the bed. I crawled on top of her and straddled her thighs with mine, knowing full well she could feel the warmth of me against her. I paused—giving her space to take in the moment and me space to dial into my intuition.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She said yes and arched her back toward me.

 “This is all so new,” she said nervously.

“You’re doing perfectly,” I said.

Her body responded in waves—tentative at first, then warmer. Her breath deepened. She turned to face me, and I adjusted to cradle her gently between my legs.

That’s when I saw it: the flicker in her eyes.

Something old waking up.

She didn’t know what she wanted. But her body did.

She touched my arm. My waist. My collarbone.

She asked if she could explore me. I said yes.

We took our time. There was no rush to any destination. Just shared breath. Gentle exploration. Pauses to check in. Permission to laugh. Permission to cry.

Her hands were unsure, then bolder. She inhaled the scent of my skin like she was cataloguing a moment she didn’t want to forget.

“You have full permission to go at your own pace,” I reminded her.

Her body listened. And slowly, so did her mind.

She told me she wasn’t sure how she liked to be touched anymore. She’d tried solo pleasure but felt like she was chasing a memory.

“I don’t get wet,” she said. “I don’t feel turned on like I used to.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “That part of you isn’t gone. She’s just waiting to be welcomed.”

What happened next wasn’t fast. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t performative.

It was discovery. Surrender. Trust.

She moved with me. Matched my breath. Mirrored my movements. We shared pleasure—not just physically, but emotionally.

She began to glow.

Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes sparkled. Her hands trembled and steadied again.

She was awake. She was here.

And when she reached her peak—soft, messy, exquisite—she covered her face with a pillow and laughed.

“I didn’t know I could still feel that much,” she said.

“You’ve always been capable,” I replied. “You just needed a safe space to remember.”

Afterwards, we lay tangled. Light-headed. Smiling.

I stroked her arm. She traced slow circles on my thigh. We finished the champagne and let the silence settle like something sacred.

She asked what I wanted to do next.

I told her I’d love to watch her explore her own body while I explored mine. No pressure. Just an invitation. She lit up. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

We lay side by side, hands moving in time. She followed my rhythm. Mirrored me. Let herself take up space.

She whispered: “I feel like I’ve come home to myself.”

When she was ready to leave, I kissed her on the cheek and said:

“Your body has always belonged to you. And now you know—you can come back to it anytime you want.”

She smiled.

A real smile.

The kind that says: I’m not waiting anymore. I’m ready now.

If this sounds like you… I want you to know something.

You’re not broken. You’re not past it. You’re not alone.

You don’t need to be confident. You don’t need to be “in the mood.” You don’t even need to know what you like.

You just need to be curious.

You just need to start.

I’ll meet you there.

With love and giggles,

xxx

Victoria

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Diary of a Bisexual MILF Escort | A NSFW Sexy Story

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