Last Dance
April 28, 2008
It was a lot more emotional than I thought it was going to be.
I’ve been dancing for three and a half years now, since September of 2004. It has put me through school (a private school with a $30K+ annual tuition, plus books), helped me buy a house, and has allowed me to live a lifestyle few women my age are able to achieve. My girlfriend, Nikki, also dances. In fact, she was the one who got me started dancing. But that’s another story.
I have always enjoyed dancing, working weekend evenings for what averaged out to be about 20 hours a week. With my impending exams, graduation and move to the other side of the country, though, this past weekend was to be my last weekend working as a dancer. I knew it’d be tough, but I had no idea how tough.
The club I work at has about 120 dancers on the roster. Of those, probably a good 60 or 70 of them are “regulars” – dancers who are routinely in the club, on a schedule, such that you can get to know them. Nikki and I typically work Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights until to 2, 3 or 4 in the morning. As girls with some seniority, we get the pick of the time slots to work, and the late evening/early morning weekend time slots are easily the most coveted. The girls who work during the week get the majority of the itinerant businessmen and whatnot, while those of us who work the weekends get a higher percentage of regular customers (upon which most of us rely on for the majority of our income). I had a slew of regulars, and they frequently told me they really enjoyed watching me dance because it looked like I enjoyed what I was doing.
I’ve always liked to tell a “story” with my dance sets. I had three solo stage sets each night, plus a lesbian-themed set I did with Nikki. The lesbian set was so popular they scheduled it for the midnight feature every night we worked. Not only was it popular, but it invariably got us two-girl VIP dance gigs for a good two hours or so after we got off the stage. This is one of the primary reasons we were always in the top ten money earners in the club.
The “story” revolves around two girls who experience a forbidden attraction to one another. This part of the story is represented by the song Lips of An Angel, by Hinder. I’d have never come up with that song on my own, but it was suggested by an online friend, and the more we listened to it, the more we thought it fit the concept perfectly. We start out on opposite sides of the stage doing synchronized pole and floor work, with the occasional furtive glances towards one another. The song progresses, the attraction intensifies, and we begin playing off each other’s movements and mirroring and mimicking each other. The last 30 seconds is some pretty complex pole work done while we gaze at each other.
As the first song winds down, a pole rises out of the middle of the stage, and we begin to move toward it tentatively, retreating back and forth to our original, respective poles. This is where we are “fighting” our attraction and is done to the song Stop, by Jamelia. When this song is over, we’re holding onto opposite sides of the same pole in the middle of the stage. Finally, the attraction is consummated to the beat of an erotic remix of Justify My Love, by Madonna. We spend a lot of time dancing very erotically and playing with each other and it ends in a long, sloppy French kiss. It always gets a really good reaction from the crowd.
Last night when we got ready to take the stage for that set the DJ, a guy named Jeff (though I call him Jazzy) made it a special point to announce that this would be my last dance; that I was moving onto bigger and better things. He also made the statement that I was “one of the most special dancers he’d ever worked with,” that he would miss my smile, and he wished me all the best wherever my life took me. I was stunned. Nikki and I just looked at each other, and the music began. As we got to the first point where Nik and I meet at the middle pole, I could see tears streaming down Nikki’s face, and I just lost it. I couldn’t finish the dance because I had too much water in my eyes. Nikki just stopped and embraced me and we cried together for a few seconds before people started standing and applauding. I have to imagine the image of two practically naked women on stage crying in each others’ arms had to be a pathetic sight to behold. I’d been completely caught off guard, and was so incredibly embarrassed – my first three stage sets had gone off without a hitch. After I regained my composure a bit, we walked off stage back to our Green Room (a staging room where dancers wait until their turn on the stage or clean up after their set).
When I got back into the Green Room, more emotion. There was a cake and balloons, and a banner that read “Good Luck” spread across one of the walls. We’d never done this for anyone on their last day before. Not that I recalled anyway, and I knew that this was “out of the ordinary” special. I couldn’t help but stand there and bawl my eyes out like a little baby. Our house mother made a short speech about how much they’d enjoyed working with me and that I’d be sorely missed. Everyone applauded.
Strippers have a reputation for being backstabbers, especially with respect to each other. Everyone in the club is in competition with everyone else for those hard-earned dollars. Symbiotic relationships, when they come about, are generally developed out of necessity rather than any semblance of friendship. I was different, though. (To be fair, so were several other dancers). I went out of my way to be friendly with everyone; I took new dancers under my wings and coached them about how to fit in and not piss off the others. I had helped many of the dancers with advice when they had questions about sex or sexuality, including “how-to” advice, as well as helping many of them deal with their first same-sex attractions (a very common experience in an all-girl environment that is as sexually charged as ours is). I had transcended the stereotypical dancer image and I was just now realizing how unique that made me among my peers. I’d never given it much thought before now; it was just who I was.
As we ate on the cake, several of the girls came up and hugged me, told me they loved me, and wished me the best of luck. Melissa, a stunning 19 year old who was as naïve as they come when she auditioned, came up and thanked me for taking her under my wings for the first few nights she worked. She’s one I know who’d not have made it had I not helped her out. Not to brag on my own abilities, but I know that none of the other dancers would’ve helped her out, and she was a lost as a baby kitten without its mother when she walked through those doors that first night. I taught her how to give a lap dance, how to hustle, and got her started on the pole. She’d found her footing and was becoming a much more confident salesperson for herself. She gave me a little present that turned out to be a package of pretty stationery.
And there was Aurora, the 34 year-old corporate attorney by day, dancer by night. I never really got to speak to her much in the almost four years I’ve been here, and I was dying to know why she worked as a stripper with a job as an (theoretically high-paid) attorney. She enjoys the attention she says. She finds dancing freeing. She had an absolutely tight body and spent her off time in the gym; she was one of those high-energy, high-drive individuals that just never stopped. We were never close, but she told me she’s admired me from afar, and it really struck her how I went out of my way to look out for others in the club. There weren’t too many people like that in any club, she says. I, too, had admired her because she was a strong woman, and I knew she wasn’t dancing just to make money, but because she enjoyed what she was doing. It was her release, and she truly wouldn’t be seen as someone who had to dance to make ends meet.
And then there was Sandy. Technically, this was the girl who made me a whore. A year or so ago, she came up to me and said she’d heard that I really knew what I was doing when it came to going down on another girl. Allegedly, she’d heard this from one of the other dancers Nikki and I had played with in the past. Sandy wanted to find out for herself. She wanted me to fuck her in a room off the Green Room. So I did. After she’d had her second orgasm, she got dressed and pulled out a $100 bill and handed it to me, telling me she wanted me to be “her whore;” I’d earned it. From that point forward, whenever Sandy wanted to get off at work, she’d always ask me to take care of it. She never paid me again, though. Sandy came up and gave me a long, passionate kiss, followed by a big hug. “I sure have enjoyed you. I hope you can come back to see us when you make it back to Florida.”
I spent the rest of my shift receiving well wishes from other coworkers, club staff and a few of my regulars that had come by to say good bye. I took the $600 I’d earned thus far and distributed it to the various people I usually tip following work. Our house mom, an outstanding, gracious, but stern woman who kept the girls in check and mediated the little spats that arose over customers, clothing, who got to use the bathroom first, etc. Our makeup girl, whose services I rarely used. But she did do touchup work on me from time to time, and she made all of her money from tips. Some girls tipped better than others. I gave her $100 tonight and told her to treat herself to something special for a change. She was speechless.
I went out and hugged our DJ, Jazzy. He’d always helped the girls out with mixing their songs like they wanted rather than like he wanted. Sadly, that isn’t the norm – most DJs mix songs the way they want them or they weren’t incredibly adept at mixing to begin with. And I thanked him for causing me to cry and fuck up my last dance! 
Then there were our three security guys who, on more than one occasion, had saved someone from having his ass kicked by me. Guido (No, I’m not kidding) told me if I *ever* needed anything to let him know. He was as big as a house, but had a tender heart and the patience of a saint. It took a lot to piss him off, but God help you if you did. These guys did yeoman’s work and, insofar as I know, only one girl was ever seriously injured while they were there (and that was out in the parking lot by an ex-boyfriend). They always, always had a kind word to say when you came to work every day. I called them the Three Musketeers because they were always on shift at the same time – they seemed like brothers, even though they weren’t related.
Normally, I work until 2AM on Sunday nights, but with everything going on and my mental state, I just couldn’t get back into the groove of things. So I hung out in the green room and watched the other dancers ply their trade for a while; it was interesting to actually sit and watch the interaction between the dancers and the customers. Other dancers who’d been committed in the VIP Room during the earlier festivities would pass through and wish me well as the minutes ticked by. That and grab some cake, of course.
I spent my last few there minutes cleaning out my locker and waiting for Nikki for finish up with the cashier, just staring around at the girls moving through, conversing with one another about customers, boyfriends, dealers, or whatever else had captured their attention at the moment. It all seemed so surreal.
I will miss this. I will miss the aura of the club. I will miss having this as one of the main foci of my life. And, most importantly, I will miss the wonderful women I’ve worked with here. Strippers get a bad rap from a variety of sources. But some of these women are absolutely incredible, warm, thoughtful, brave, conscientious beings, and I’ll sorely miss their spirit.
I collected my stuff and we walked out the back door toward my car. I couldn’t look back. I went home, took a quick shower to wash the club funk off of me, and crawled into bed. A few minutes later Nikki joined me. She wrapped her arms around me. “You’re such a special person.” I squeezed her hand in acknowledgment.
It was a lot more emotional than I thought it was going to be.
Budgeting
April 24, 2008
One of the things I have to do to prepare for moving to and living in San Francisco is to develop a budget. I need to know how much money I’ll have to be making in order to make ends meet.
I know I’ll have some one-time expenditures. These include:
- Apartment Deposit, $1000.00
- Car tags, $230.00
- Fall 2008 Tuition, $2,100.00
- Books for classes, $400.00
- Deposit for electricity, $500.00
- TOTAL of $4,230.00
I have a substantial savings account, courtesy of my past four years as a dancer. I’ll withdraw some from savings and get a new bank account in California with this money, and use it to pay for these initial expenses, plus things like a hotel for the first few days I am in Cali prior to my apartment becoming available and having some furniture in it.
Then, of course, there are the recurring monthly costs. At this point, this is what mine will look like:
- Apartment rental, $1,850.00
- Medical/Dental insurance, $227.00
- Rental insurance, $30.00
- Car insurance, $255.00
- HAS Account, $100.00
- Personal phone, $100.00
- Business phone, $100.00*
- Electricity (other utilities are included in the apartment rental costs), $250.00
- Cable/Internet, $100.00
- Post office box rental, $40.00
- Furniture rental, $500.00 (I’m only here for two years, so I don’t plan to bring all of my furniture here from Florida only to have to ship it back when I leave).
- Web hosting fees, $50.00*
- Advertising, $250.00*
- Supplies (Condoms, basically), $100.00*
- Gas, $400 (I’ll be living close to school and walking to class, thank goodness)
- Food, $400.00
- Personal Care (hair, manicures, waxing, etc.), $250.00
- Gym membership (have to take care of the bod), $40.00
- TOTAL: $5,042.00
- I’d like to save about $1,000.00 each month as well to go toward next semester’s tuition)
- For a GRAND TOTAL of $6,042.00 per month
So, to cover the costs of taxes, monthly expenses, and other, random expenses, it looks like I will need to be making around $10,000.00 a month.
If I can clear about $3,000.00 more a month, I can afford to rent a second, classier apartment and furnish it so that I’ll have a local place to do incalls rather than renting hotel rooms. It’d sure be easier that way, but we’ll have to wait and see if I can garner enough clients to support that kind of operation.
Anything over all of that, of course, will go directly into a savings account. Like I said, I am a big saver, and an investor. All of the extra money I made as a dancer went to savings, a 401K, and some investments like mutual funds. Hopefully, I’ll be able to continue that practice.
Etiquette
April 20, 2008
Welcome to The Real Princess Dairies! If you’re new here — this document contains some suggested etiquette to be used during your visits — It is based on The Blogger’s Disclaimer and has been edited to better reflect my personal views.
Personal Relationships and Privacy
Do not assume that you know everything there is to know about me simply because you read my blog on a regular basis. Any judgments you make will be based on the information I have provided about myself. Whatever opinion you may form about me as a person, or about my life as a whole, it’s probably best kept it to yourself. Remember — you are the reader.
Please do not contact me for more details about events or for personal information more than what I have already provided on the site. Chances are if the information you seek isn’t readily available, I have found it too personal or inappropriate to share. If you are close to me, I will eventually tell you privately, so intrusive questions are not necessary; just leave it alone. If you are meant to know, you will.
First Client - Part Deux
April 18, 2008
My first professional fuck had gone really well. So well, in fact, that he wanted to see me again. We spent the week casually exchanging e-mails. He’d obviously had a good time. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jerked off reliving that experience in my mind.”
“Hopefully, when we’re done next time, you’ll have something else to jerk off to.”
We arranged to meet at the same place at the same time a week later, on Wednesday evening. This time he was willing to pay $500 for a “porn star experience” – more aggressive sex involving anal. Nikki and I almost always had pretty intense sex, but, again, it had been a long time since I’d been able to fuck a guy like that. Getting paid for it would just be icing on the cake. I was concerned that he might not be willing to go hard core, though, given his rather tentative nature in our first session.
“Listen, you’re welcome to be as aggressive as you want, do anything you want. I’ll use a ‘safe word’ if it gets to be too much for me. If I say (or grunt) the safe word while we’re fucking, you’ll know to stop. Otherwise, you can do what you want as hard as you want.”
“That’s cool. I’ve just never been one to be really aggressive in bed. I really want to do a woman in the ass, though. My wife has never allowed me to do that and it has always been a fantasy of mine. The rest is just extra as I see it.”
Wednesday afternoon, I spent a couple of hours getting ready. That included the use of an enema to clean out my rectum. With anal, you never know how intense it’ll get and what you’ll end up dealing with, so it is better to take that extra step just in case. I drove to the hotel and pulled into the parking lot. His truck was there just as it was the last time, in front of a different room. I got out, went to the door and knocked. He answered and let me in. I gave him a quick kiss, “Hey.” I noticed an envelope on the dresser next to the television, and picked it up and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, I opened it up and counted the money - $500 just as we had agreed. I used the bathroom quickly and went back out.
After a few minutes of polite banter, I suggested we get comfortable and we began disrobing. As I pulled his shorts off, his semi-erect cock popped out. I finished up with his pants and moved over to where I could take his cock into my mouth. As I went down on him, I could feel him growing harder with each thrust. I took it out of my mouth and licked my way down his shaft to his balls, and began licking and sucking them one by one while jerking his cock slowly. I built up a big wad of spit and spit on the head of his penis and began jerking a bit faster while sucking on his balls once again. I put him back in my mouth and used my free hand to play with my pussy. I was already sopping wet in anticipation of knowing I was going to be fucking that cock in just a few minutes.
I asked him if he’d like to control the movement for a few minutes. “Sure.” I moved back on the bed and lay down on my back with my head on the pillow. He straddled my chest and put his cock between my tits and began moving back and forth. Once again I spit on his cock, then put it back between my tits and squeezed them around his rod as he fucked my chest. He did that for a few minutes, and then I reached around, grabbed his ass, and pulled his cock closer to my face. He scooted up and allowed me to wrap my lips around him again. He began thrusting into me, slowly at first, but as he began to get the hang of it, he became more forceful. I pulled it back out long enough to tell him, “Come on, baby, fuck my mouth; fuck my face.” He began thrusting again, going a little deeper each time. My oral on him a few minutes ago had allowed me to relax my throat a bit, so I was in a position where I could accommodate his seven inches.
“Can we do that thing where you hang your head over the side of the bed?’
“You bet.” I’d actually wanted to try this for some time now anyway. He got up off of me and I moved over the edge of the bed, and allowed my head to hang back off of it. It was weird looking at the room upside down. I’d never done oral on a guy like this before, though I had practiced on Nikki’s strap-on a bit when I was learning how to do deep throat. My head was too low to get a good angle on him, however, and we had to stop and collect some pillows to put under my neck for him to be able to penetrate my mouth without having to assume a weird, contorted position with his knees. “If I tap you, stop and pull out, okay?
“Okay.” As he pushed his cock deep into my mouth, into my throat slowly, I was thinking to myself what an interesting view this is – the underneath of a guy’s cock and nuts. It was interesting to see the guy’s nut sack coming at my face in this position. He slowly built up some rhythm and I felt him grab a hold of my tits. His speed gradually increased to the point where he was basically fucking my throat as if it were a pussy. Being in this position allows me to open my throat up a bit more and, thus far anyway, I hadn’t gagged on him.
I tried to time my breathing so that I could inhale when he was withdrawing. That sounds wonderful, but is a bit harder than it might seem at first blush. The thick, slippery mucus that is produced when you’re doing deep throat work tends to accumulate in your mouth, making it a bit difficult to get good air passage around the cock at times. Still, I was able to accommodate him without too much of a problem. The practice with the fake ones appeared to have paid off.
“This is a fucking incredible sight, to see my cock sliding in and out of your mouth.” I tapped his leg and he pulled out for a second so I could catch my breath, and then grabbed his legs and pulled his cock back into me. He once again grabbed my tits and began playing with them and he shoved his cock deeper into my throat. He began grunting a bit, “I’m gonna cum.” He tried to pull out but I had my hands wrapped around his legs and kept pulling him into my mouth. As his orgasm built, he began thrusting deeper into my throat, and eventually that first shot of cum shot out. It’s tough to close your throat to prevent cum from going down it with a cock in it. I just stopped trying to breathe for a few seconds as he continued to thrust into the back of my throat. I could feel the spurts of cum going into my throat and sliding back onto the roof of my mouth. The result of gravity, no doubt.
When he was done he slumped over for a second, and I had to tap him again to get him to withdraw his cock from my mouth. When he did, I turned over and had the presence of mind to not try to swallow and breathe at the same time, knowing that would cause me to choke. So I hung my head down to allow the cum to move to the front of my mouth. I turned toward him and opened my mouth and showed him the load he’d just deposited in my mouth, then smiled and took a deep breath, threw my head back and swallowed. I could tell by the look on his face that he was impressed with my performance. “For someone who’s never done this before, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”
I laughed. “You’re just the first person I’ve charged to fuck me, not the first person I’ve fucked, dude. I’ve even taught people how to suck cock before.”
“No doubt.”
We chatted for a few minutes about a bunch of random stuff to give us some time to recover. Then I began going down on him again to resurrect his cock to its previous state of hardness. “Do you mind if I practice something on you?” He got a look on his face that was a cross between puzzlement and concern.
“Like what?”
“I want to try putting on a condom with my mouth.” I reached over to the table and grabbed a condom and began opening the package.
“No, go ahead. I’d like to see that.”
I pulled the condom out, pinched the tip of it and made sure I had it facing the right direction, and put it in my mouth behind my lips, then moved over to his cock again. As I went down on him slowly, I could feel my teeth scraping the condom as it went down. I knew that wasn’t good, and when I withdrew him from my mouth, I could see scrapes on the condom wall. First time was a failure. “Let’s try that again.” I pulled out another one and tried it again. This time I made a more concentrated effort to keep the rolled edge of the rubber outside my lips, and succeeded in getting it all the way down his cock.
“Impressive.”
I reached over and grabbed my bottle of Astroglide, squirted some in my hand and lubed his gloved cock up, and then repositioned myself and slowly slid down on the hard rod. I love fucking a guy in the cowgirl position, chiefly because I can grind my cunt into his pubic bone and make myself cum. I spent a few minutes fucking him, just moving up and down on his cock. I leaned forward and hung my tits right over his face and let him lick and suck them. He playfully bit at my nipples, sending little shivers through my entire body. I wish I’d had my nipple piercing still, so he’d have had something else to play with as well.
I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I’m going to cum on you. Is that okay?” I wanted him to know that I was going to use his cock to make myself cum.
“Fuck, yeah.” He began thrusting with his hips to match my hip movements. Within just a few seconds my already heightened state of arousal began to morph into that climb to an orgasm. As I ground my pussy into him, he grabbed my hips and used them as a fulcrum to push his cock even further into me. My orgasm built and then it let go; it was pretty easy to tell. I’ve never been the quietest person during sex. I’m not sure if anyone was in the rooms next to us, or for that matter, if anyone was passing by outside. If they were, they had no problem discerning what was taking place in Room 107, though.
As my orgasm subsided, I laid down over him and rested for a minute. He ran his hands up and down the length of my body, raising chill bumps over my entire body. After I’d recovered for a minute or so, I was ready for the next step. “I need your cock in my ass.” I moved up off of him and got into the doggy position as he moved around to my rear.
“You have a gorgeous ass,” he said as he slapped it with his open hand.
“Well, stick your cock in it and fuck it.” I felt him place the head of his cock at the puckered little entrance to my rectum and begin pushing in. “Put a little lube on it.” He reached over and grabbed the bottle on the desk and squirted some in his hand and began rubbing it on his cock. All of the sudden I felt this cold substance running down the crack of my ass. He’d positioned the bottle over my butt and was dribbling a little bit out of it onto my little pucker. I reached around and stuck my finger in my ass and finger-fucked myself a minute or so to get the door open for him. “Alright, try it now.”
Once again, I felt him begin to push in. I relaxed my anal muscles and pushed out a bit to help him get in. As the head of his cock pushed past the entrances, my asshole collapsed around his cock to grab a hold of him. He pushed in slowly and then withdrew a bit, and repeated this a few times until he was able to get his entire length in my butt. I assumed the “face down, ass up” position that always works for me for anal. It also allows the anal muscles to tighten up a bit more on his cock, heightening the feeling for him as well.
“Fuck me. Fuck my asshole.” God, it had been so long since I’d had a real cock in my ass. It brought back memories of my very first anal at 16 – the orgasm I had then caused me to literally almost pass out. The feeling of being full, followed immediately by a withdrawal, resulting in a feeling of emptiness is intense. To me, anyway. I reached under and began masturbating myself, and within a few seconds felt another orgasm building. I could tell this one was going to be even stronger than the one I’d had a few minutes before. “I’m going to cum again.”
“Come on, bitch.” The waves of my orgasm overtook my body with a force I hadn’t felt in quite a while as he fucked my asshole. I don’t know how loud my moans were. Quite frankly, I was too focused on the feelings in the lower half of my body to worry about how much noise I was making. I pushed my face into the pillow in an attempt to muffle the screams. It was apparent that he wasn’t terribly experienced in this area since he continued to pound away at my ass while I was cumming rather than timing his thrusts with my orgasmic contractions. Oh, well; no matter. This is about him, not me.
As I came, I slowly slid down into a flat on my tummy position as he continued to fuck my ass from above. This allows a guy to use his full body weight as a force behind the penetrations, which makes ass fucking even more intense than it otherwise is. Once my orgasm subsided, I continued to squeeze my asshole in rhythm with his thrusts. Apparently this worked well for him because after about a dozen more plunges, I could feel that adjustment in speed that, in my experience, portends a guy cumming. “Cum in my ass.” I began squeezing my anal muscles harder to coax his white sticky liquid out of that rock hard cock he was shoving deep into my rectum. I was still feeling the afterglow from my orgasm, and the thrusts and anal contractions were magnifying that even at this point.
Finally, he came. He collapsed onto his knees and began using his hips to thrust himself as deep into my butt as he could get, burying his cock to the hilt. With each ejaculation, I could literally feel the contractions of his cock in my asshole. After about a half dozen waves, he slowly slid down on top of me and off to one side. I rotated with him so he wouldn’t just plop right out of my ass, and once we’d adjusted, I gently squeezed my ass muscles as I pulled away from him. I got up and took the condom off his cock and threw it into the trash, then crawled back onto the bed and snuggled up next to him.
“That was the strongest orgasm I have ever had. No shit. God damn.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had a pretty strong one, too.”
“Are all hook….escorts this good?”
“Quite honestly, I don’t know. I doubt it. Most of them just do the quick, get it over with sex and that’s the end of it. I hope I don’t get to that point.”
We spent several more minutes just chatting about random stuff. He wanted to know why I didn’t have a boyfriend, but I explained that I wasn’t going to get into my personal life. He understood the need for me to maintain a separation between my private life and my professional life. He also explained that he couldn’t afford to keep seeing me. I understood that. Coming up with $300 - $500 every few days wasn’t the easiest thing to do. I explained to him that my rates were going to be a bit higher once I moved to San Francisco. “I think you’ll be worth every penny of it. Quite honestly, I always wondered how girls could charge that kind of money and people pay it. But if you’re any indication of what most girls are like, then I can see why.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” Having someone tell you you’re a good fuck is very affirming, even if you are being paid to do it. More so, in fact, as I see it because they know you’re not fucking them because you like them. We spent a few more minutes talking, and then began getting dressed. I picked up my keys and the envelope and headed out the door.
“Thank you for the good time,” he said, almost plaintively.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for being a nice, likeable guy for my first job. You really made it easy for me. Good luck.” I shut the door behind me and walked to my car.
I am, of course, aware of the fact that I enjoyed the sex the past couple of weeks largely because it has been two good years since I’ve fucked a man. I knew that not all of my clients were going to be this good, this kind, and this easy to get along with. But at this point, with just these two appointments to judge against, it seems to me as though this is something I’ll be able to do on a professional basis. I was $800 richer for about two hours worth of work. Once I started charging my regular rates, I should be making some good money.
My First Client
April 11, 2008
I went home and took a quick shower, sat down in front of the TV and went back to reading my e-mails. Three months later I was still getting random, spurious e-mails from guys who’d responded to my original Craigslist ad. Most of them were just shots in the dark as far as I could tell. Other than explaining to them I’d found someone to take care of the original facial request, I hadn’t said a word to the majority of them, and I couldn’t figure out why they kept sending me the e-mails. As luck would have it, though, one had come in between the time I’d blown the guy this afternoon and the time I sat back down. It is an excellent example of what I am referring to.
“After that discussion about the facials, I want random sex. Let’s just meet and let me pull down your panties, lick your pussy till you cum, then turn you around, bend you over and fuck you until I cum. Which cheeks would you like to feel my warm cum splash on?”
I had done nothing more that respond to this guy’s original query about the ad with “I’ve already found someone to take care of this. Thanks.” He’d taken the liberty of sending photos of himself and his erect cock with his first e-mail, though. I went back and looked, and he was quite attractive – a middle aged guy in his late 30s, perhaps. I thought for a few minutes, and then typed out a quick reply. “Are you willing to pay for it?” I actually figured he’d reply that he didn’t want to pay for sex. But, this was Craigslist of course.
“Well now, that’s an interesting question. I know that everything I value comes with a price. What do you have in mind?”
Shock. What do I say to him now that my bluff has been called?
I had already kind of entertaining the idea of experimenting with some guys before I began my “official” work as an escort in San Francisco. I didn’t want to go into it in a strange place without any experience doing anything like this before. Sure, the facials and blowing the last guy was one thing, but actually going to meet someone to fuck them for money was the ultimate first step as I saw it. And up to this point, I’d only really thought about finding a guy who propositioned me at work. That happened quite a bit, and I really didn’t know if I’d actually go through with it until it happened.
I figured I may as well play this one out, though, to see what might come of it. I replied, “Well, guys have been paying $100 to cum on my face lately, so if you want to actually fuck, I think $200 seems reasonable, don’t you?” I attached a couple of photographs so he’d have some idea what I looked like.
“Well, I like what I’ve seen, but for that I’d like to be able to take my time and enjoy you. You are a very lovely woman and I’d like to seriously enjoy your body. Can we talk an hour or so for that price?”
“I don’t have a problem with that. What part of town are you in? You want me to come to you or you wanna meet me somewhere? And what do you mean by “enjoy”?”
“Enjoy… I really love a fit woman’s body. You look to have a very nice figure and soft skin, so I want to touch and taste and enjoy it. If you can’t host me, we’ll need to meet somewhere.”
“What part of town are you in, and do you know a good, inexpensive hotel near you that we can use? If we go that route, you might get a bit more than an hour. I won’t be a clock watcher.”
“I’d enjoy that. I’m in Pembroke Pines, so I’ll have to see what I can find. Can this be a GFE and can I pop more than once?”
“Sure. If you want to add $100 to it, you can have a PSE - anal, rough face fucking, etc. Your call. Just let me know so I can plan accordingly.”
“You’re too pretty. I just want to touch, lick, suck and fuck you and have you do the same to me. I have meetings all day tomorrow. How does late afternoon on Thursday work for you?”
“Haha! Okay, whatever works for you.” I explained that I have classes on Thursday afternoons, and that we’d need to find a day next week for the rendezvous. He indicated that he’d get back to me, which he did a few hours later.
“I thought about it this morning and I’d like to offer you a different proposal. Let’s look at the little rougher and nastier sex, but let’s go ahead and make this a true play date that you just happen to get paid for. Let’s say $250 for a couple of hours of play, but let’s make it something that you really enjoy, too. I like being dominant sexually and you seem to like to be submissive, so let’s just play in a way that gets us both off. As an example, we could play that you are my new slave just being delivered and I need to inspect you and try out, punish you if you don’t do as you are told, etc. I’m open to any scenario that turns you on. What do you say?”
“$250 for two hours is a bit too low for two hours of sex play, I’m thinking. I’m certainly open to that kind of scenario, but for two hours, you’re going to need to come up with some more money!” I may be becoming a whore, but I’m not going to be a cheap one. He countered with $300.
“I can live with that, I guess. You’ll need to bring some condoms - don’t forget those. Let me know how you want me to dress, too.”
“How I would like you to dress? I love the school girl dress with the white button blouse look, and I love the really short skirt with a tight see through top. Let me know what you have. I’ll bring condoms. I hope oral is bareback, though.”
This was to be the first significant decision I was going to have to make as a new hooker – oral with or without condoms? It didn’t make sense to use condoms for vaginal or anal sex and not oral, since anything you had would likely be transmitted orally anyway. Still, the thought of sucking a latex covered anything was…less than appealing. I knew I’d have to get over that for my own safety, but I elected to forego it this one time. “Bareback is fine with oral. Did you decide if you wanted the GFE, or the PSE?”
“As far as rough or GFE, I’ll like to know from you what really turns you on. It would give me the most pleasure if you were aroused by what we did. That’s the biggest turn on for me.”
“Well, it’s your money, so you’re the one who makes the call on what you want. I’ll be aroused regardless. If you want the softer, sensual GFE, then that’s what you get. If you want the hardcore PSE, then you can have that as well. You get what you pay for.” I had already decided that, for the time being, I wasn’t going to have many hard limits. Nothing involving shit, animals, or anything patently illegal, but unlike some women, I wasn’t going to say no to anal or water sports, no kissing, no this, no that, etc. I am there to service the client, and he or she had purchased my time, so I was going to do what they wanted to do, by and large. At this point in my journey I didn’t see any need to put limits on anyone, and I enjoyed anal sex, rough sex and even watersports to a degree. That may change; we’ll see.
We continued to work out the finer details of where, when and what he’d want do to specifically. He wavered back and forth between soft, sensual girlfriend experiences to the hardcore, rough fucking porn-star experience. I explained that it was his money and he’d get whatever he wanted to pay for, regardless. He finally settled on a fantasy, stripper/lap dance, GFE-kind of fantasy. So we set it up for a nearby hourly hotel not too far from the house.
“You do realize you’re going to be my first, right? I’ve let guys cum on my face for money, but I’ve never actually fucked someone for money before. ”
“Actually I kind of guessed that, and I’m really looking forward to it. I think you will be wonderfully fresh. Thanks for doing this for me.”
I spent the next several days running through all kinds of scenarios in my head – how things might play out, would he do this, would he do that, would I be turned on or not, etc. While I knew superficially that I felt comfortable with doing this, it was still an inner struggle with myself fighting against that societally-ingrained image of how “wrong” it is to be fucking someone for money. I had done tons of research on it, read every book I could get my hands on about it, and written all kinds of papers supporting the legalization of prostitution. And of course I’d even been relatively comfortable taking money from guys who wanted to cum on my face. But it was still tough to overcome what 20+ years of indoctrination had taught me about it when I was going to be spreading my legs and allowing someone to penetrate my inner sanctum. That was one reason, I decided, that I needed this trial run – I needed to make sure I was going to feel comfortable taking a stranger’s cock before I actually started putting myself out there as a professional.
I spent Wednesday randomly exchanging e-mails with him about the upcoming festivities. He was nice to chat with, and that made me feel a bit more comfortable about it. Still, I was a bit anxious – a perfectly normal reaction as I saw it. As the afternoon wore on, I was surprised that I was already getting wet in anticipation of what was to come. I took a shower, fixed myself up, got dressed, collected my music and prepared myself mentally for what was to come.
At the appointed time, I drove to the hotel. It looked for all the world like the archetypal “hourly motel” you see associated with prostitution on the news and in the movies – a sort of run down, one-story U-shaped structure with a facade that looked like attention to detail on the part of the maintenance staff had long since been fogotten. I wondered to myself if he’d patronized this place before. It dawned on me that this wasn’t exactly an auspicious beginning to my career as a paid sex provider – certainly not the glamorous five-star hotel that I had in mind when I first gave serious consideration to doing it. But, I told myself, this is a trial run, not the real deal. I pulled into the parking lot and found the room number he’d texted me. His truck was sitting in the parking lot so I figured he’d already be in the room waiting for me. I knocked and he opened the door. “Hey.”
“I honestly thought you wouldn’t show up.”
“Why’s that?”
“I just figured you were too hot to really be doing this kind of work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did. God, you’re gorgeous.”
I laughed. “Thanks.” We bullshitted for a few minutes, and then I suggested he get comfortable in a chair that was situated next to the cheap little table they had in the room. As he took his clothes off, my first thought was that it’d be nice to be bent over that table while being fucked. But I had serious doubts about whether or not the table was going to hold my 120 pounds up with someone pounding away at me. He sat down as I found an electrical outlet to plug my boom box into for the dance.
I popped the CD into the boom box and set it to play one of my favorite pieces to dance to, NIN’s Closer. As the music started, I walked over and began dancing in front of him, slowly disrobing one little piece of clothing at a time. I’d worn my school girl outfit – a thin white button-up and a very short mini-skirt, and had my hair up in pig tails just as he’d requested. I turned around and wiggled my ass about 4 inches from his face – close enough that he’d be able to smell my scent. He licked and lightly bit my ass and then slapped me on the right butt cheek rather smartly.
As the song wore on, I continued taking clothes off and dancing around him, occasionally grinding on his lap. Once I had my top off, I put my tits right in his face and let him suck and bite my nipples for a few seconds. I grabbed his head and gave him a long, sensual kiss.
I got back up and danced on, teasingly removing the little wrap that I called a skirt. I slowly slid my thong down around my ankles, and kicked it off into his lap. “You can keep that when I leave.” I put my right foot up on the back of the chair behind his head and began masturbating less than a foot from his face just as those infamous words came out of the box, “…I want to fuck you like an animal.” A couple of years of using Closer as a favorite lap dance song had allowed me to time that just right. He started to move toward me, but I pulled back. “Un, unh. Not yet, my horny friend.”
After a few more minutes of dancing as the song wore down, I finally leaned back on the table, spread my legs apart and reached down and started masturbating myself again. He observantly took this as a sign to move in, and got out of the chair onto his knees and moved over to where his face was even with my pussy. I took my index and middle finger and used them to pull my hood back to expose my clit. “Eat my pussy, baby.” He moved in and began softly licking and nibbling my little clit. I took my other hand and grabbed his hair and pulled his face into my cunt. I was so aroused by what I was doing that within two minutes he’d brought me to a powerful orgasm. I’m not sure if that spoke to the level of arousal or his ability to eat pussy. Not that it mattered.
I was surprised at how fluidly this seemed to be going, and decided it was time to take that ultimate step. “I need your cock in me. Now.” He pulled away from my pussy, stood up and grabbed the condom package off the bed and began tearing it open. He pulled it out and rolled it onto his erect cock, and walked over to position his rod at my entrance. He placed the head of his cock into the opening of my pussy and reached up and grabbed both of my tits with his hands. As he kneaded them and twisted my nipples between his fingers, he began working his cock into my cunt, slowly, back and forth, back and forth, increasing his depth each time he thrust. Finally he got it in all the way. “Oh, yeah. Fuck me. Hard.”
He began pounding my pussy with his cock. It wasn’t huge, probably 7 inches long, but with a pretty substantial girth. He started fucking me furiously and I was honestly concerned that the table was going to give way under the force of my weight and his pounding – what a sight that’d be. I don’t want my first job to be that embarrassing. After a few minutes of this, he wanted me to turn over so he could fuck me in a doggy position. I rotated my body around so I was lying face down across the top of the table which, miraculously, was just the right height for me to bend over while keeping my feet on the ground. The wood veneer on the cheap table was warm from where my body had been lying on it, and it felt good to my stomach and tits.
I spread my legs a bit and felt his cock at the entrance to my pussy. He guided his cock in and began fucking me again. The feeling of being fucked so intensely was a warm welcome to someone who hadn’t had a live cock in her in a good two years. “Slam it in there. Fuck that cunt. Yes. Oh, god. Fuck, yeah.” The feeling of a live cock in me once again was intoxicating. Being fucked with a strap-on penis feels great, but it just simply can’t hold a candle to being deeply penetrated by a cock attached to someone who can experience the feedback loop inherent in the fucking of another erotically charged soul.
Up to this point he’d been holding my hips with his hands. He finally got emboldened enough to let go and grab a handful of my hair with one of his hands. His pull was somewhat weak, though. I thought to myself that he’s trying not to hurt me, and I appreciated that. “Pull my hair like you mean it.” He adjusted his hand so as to grab more hair and pulled it hard enough to force my head back as he continued furiously pounding away at my cunt. I was trying to squeeze my pussy muscles in rhythm with his penetrations, but that’s hard to do when you’re being fucked as rapidly as I was at that point.
I felt a finger from his other hand begin to play with my asshole. Anal penetration isn’t included with the typical GFE fantasy, so I hoped in the back of my mind that he wasn’t going to go that route – we’d already had this conversation. Of course, I have to suspect that most guys, when they have a woman in the doggy position and they see that little puckered rosebud, are kind of inexplicably drawn to it, so I didn’t blame him for teasing it. It is forbidden territory in many cases. I didn’t say anything – I wanted to see if he was going to respect the boundaries we set at the beginning of this transaction. I may be a whore, but I expect to be treated with respect. In the end he just played with it a bit. Perhaps he’d pay the extra to go there if/when there’s a next appointment. He stopped fucking me for a minute and pulled back. He slapped my ass with his open hand twice. It stung, but it was one of those pains that cause the juices to flow even more.
He stuck his cock back in me and I continued fucking it. After a few more minutes, he indicated that he was about ready to cum, and wanted me to finish him off orally. He pulled out, and took the condom off as I turned and got down on my knees. I grabbed the towel and wiped his cock off in a hurry and took him in my mouth again. I worked my way down on it, and as I bottomed out, I could smell my fuck scent on his crotch. When two bodies get together for sex, the pheromones and musky scents that are released can be pretty intense. Anyone who’s walked into a room where two people just got done fucking knows what I am talking about – you can smell the scent of sex in the air. This was no different but was the first time I’d actually noticed how strong it was on someone I was fucking.
I had just enough time to go down on him a couple more times when he took his cock out of my mouth and began jerking himself off. “I want to plaster that gorgeous face of yours.”
“Grab my hair and hold my face where you want it.”
He took his free hand, grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and positioned his cock right in front of my face, jerking himself furiously. “Cum on my face, baby. Splatter me with that shit.” I could see the orgasm building in his facial expression, so I knew he was about ready to explode. And explode he did. He cried out as the first shot left his cock and splattered all over my mouth. It felt almost like a bullet hitting me, it hit so hard. My head instinctually tried to jerk back but his tight hold on me prevented me from moving much at all.
This was followed by a series of another half dozen spurts. He must’ve been saving this up for a few days, just based on the volume alone. My entire face was covered in white sticky juice when he was done. I reached up and wiped the pools of cum from my eyes and looked at him just as he sank back onto the bed, drained. I crawled over and took his cock into my mouth to clean him up. He moaned as I once again took him deep into my throat and used my tongue and lips to draw the remaining cum out of his still hard cock.
When I was done, I grabbed the towel and began wiping my face off. Gary continued to lie on the bed for a few more minutes as I began to get dressed. “Did that meet your expectations?”
“Oh, fuck, yeah. God, I’ve looked forward to that for the past week. I didn’t get to spend much time exploring your gorgeous body, though.”
“You seemed pretty worked up, especially after that dance.”
“Yeah, but I would have liked to have spent a bit more time fucking you.”
We spent the next half hour or so talking about a variety of things, including why I had decided to start working as an escort. I had to be careful not to share too much information with him, but I explained my reasoning behind the decision I’d made and why I made it. We talked about the services I’d be providing and I explained that I had few hard limits.
“Would you mind sucking my cock some more? You did that so well and I only got to enjoy it for a couple of minutes. My wife doesn’t really enjoy doing it, and she sure won’t let me cum on her face.”
I moved over to him and took his semi-erect cock in my mouth and began getting him hard again. Within a few seconds he was once again standing at attention, and I lavished some tongue-loving on it. His hips started bucking to meet the rhythmic up and down of my face, and I started letting him penetrate my mouth deeper each time, finally allowing him all the way into my throat. After ten minutes or so, I could tell he was on the verge of another orgasm and began working the bottom of his cock with my tongue. “I’m going to cum again.”
He exploded in my mouth, with a strong pulse of cum shooting into the back of my throat. I was able to keep my mouth closed around his cock and continue going bottoming down into his balls as his ejaculations continued, and didn’t spill a drop. I slowly withdrew my mouth from his cock and showed him his load in my mouth, and then swallowed the whole thing in one motion. He just dropped his head back onto the pillow. “You’re fucking incredible. You definitely earned your money.”
As I started to get dressed, we discussed the possibility of future meetings. Though it wasn’t my original intent to begin my escorting work while I was still in Florida, if this guy wanted to continue paying me to fuck him, I’d certainly consider it. He was intelligent, nice, clean, and treated me well. We agreed to meet next week for another date. He wanted to face fuck me and do me anally, he said, and I agreed to that for $500.00.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that you enjoyed me. Let me know what time and where you want to meet this weekend. You know how to reach me.” I finished getting dressed, picked up the envelope with my $300 in it, my keys, walked out to the car and began to drive home. I had just turned my first official trick and it had only taken about 45 minutes. I was elated – I had actually gone through it and, apparently, done a good job. I felt as though I was bouncing off the walls inside my head. I don’t know if it would always feel this good when I was done, but it sure as hell was a good start.
That night, as I explained how things had gone down to Nikki, I began crying. I couldn’t figure out why – I hadn’t thought anything I’d done was dirty or debasing or anything like that. My sense was that the sensory overload had just caught up with me. I had been so anxious and unsure about what would happen and had run through so many scenarios in my head that when the reality finally set in and it went off without a hitch, it was just one big release to be able to let it all out.
I had taken that first step and had my first client. And, apparently, earned a repeat client at that. I decided to invest my newly earned money in the development of a web site to advertise my services in California. That seemed like a reasonable way to invest the first money I made from my new line of work.
Transition
April 4, 2008
I wanted cock. I needed cock.
Over the past few weeks, I had been in the presence of no fewer than two dozen penises and was unable to touch them, to wrap my lips around them, to swallow them. While I was being facialized, I had been within a couple of inches of those massive rods, and had longed to reach up and wrap my lips around their engorged heads and envelope them with my mouth. I hadn’t been on the receiving end of a real, live penis in almost two years. I was suffering from major cock withdrawal.
I set about rehashing through many of the e-mails I’d gotten in response to my original Craigslist posting. Many of the original respondents wanted to know if I’d suck them off or give them a handjob to help facilitate matters. My agreement with Nikki was that there was to be no touching involved, so of course I had to refuse. At the time it really didn’t matter to me. But, being that close to all of those dicks brought back fond memories of going down on my last boyfriend, a boyfriend who came in at a good seven and a half inches in length. That was before I’d learned to deepthroat, too. Now, I longed to be penetrated. Forcefully. Being fucked by a strap-on, while a satisfying experience, is nothing like taking it from the real deal.
I was to be moving to San Francisco after my graduation this spring, and I was going to need a job to help pay for school and other living expenses. The southern Florida environment was ripe for making a living as a dancer, but things were slow for dancers in the Bay Area. In my trip out there a couple of months ago, we’d scoped out some clubs and found none that really appealed to me. I’d been working at a high end place for a good three years now and I didn’t want to move down to what amounted to, basically, a dump. We didn’t see any place in the city that just bowled us over. This was disheartening because it meant I’d have to find something else to do – something that would allow me to continue living in the lifestyle I was accustomed to.
In both work and at school I had met women who worked as escorts, basically high priced prostitutes. In fact, during one of my Human Sexuality courses, one of the women I’d befriended, herself an escort, suggested that I consider working. She seemed to think I’d make a good one with my looks, intelligence, and perspective on sexuality. While I didn’t disagree with her, I just couldn’t see myself fucking people for money. One of the things I really like about the club I worked in was that it was a “clean” club – the dancers didn’t have to perform sexual services for customers to keep them coming back or to make decent money. It wasn’t for lack of the customers trying to get us to do it, though. But the fact is that we didn’t have to – I made far more than enough to pay for college, pay cash for my car, and save and invest a good bit for the future just giving private dances. In fact, I regularly paid more in taxes than most people my age made in a year.
The situation in San Francisco forced me to reconsider things, though. In my honors project for my undergraduate degree, I’d interviewed over 100 women involved in prostitution. Almost half of them were streetwalkers – abused, drug addicted, sad individuals. Half the remainder were brothel workers, and the other half were high end escorts in the Miami area. People outside the sex industry like to paint all prostitutes as sad, abused, drug addicted women who are exploited by “the patriarchy.” What I discovered, though, was quite the opposite. Those working as escorts were all well spoken, intelligent, level-headed women. Many had degrees or were working on them, in fact. Though I had some reservations about a couple I spoke with, these women were hardly the archetypical “whore” that they were often portrayed to be. They were strong, well-spoken, confident women. This piqued my interest.
I had been discussing my project with Nikki as it developed over the course of two semesters, so it was no shock to her when I broached the subject of becoming an escort when I moved to California. Like me, Nikki was very fluid and open about sexuality in general, even as it related to our personal relationship. We’d had an open relationship with respect to other women since we’d become an official couple in May of 2005. Each of us was free to play with other women, with or without the knowledge of the other. Sometimes, we even enjoyed another woman together. The one caveat in our open relationship, and that which had driven the original condition behind the “no contact” rule when I started experimenting with facials, was that we agreed not to play with men. This derived largely from the desire to not get pregnant and catch diseases, but also substantially lessened the possibility of one of use becoming emotionally attached to someone who might drive a wedge between the two of us.
Originally, Nikki was supposed to move with me to Cali, but she’d gotten a job with a travel agency in Miami that she really loved – one that she could apply her degree to. We’d planned to move back to the Miami area once we got our graduate degrees anyway, and these two things kind of combined to give rise to the possibility of her remaining in Florida while I was on the west coast. So all of this combined into a situation where it seemed feasible for me to work as an escort. And this had taken place before the Spitzer scandal broke into the headlines.
With that as a backdrop, I e-mailed a guy calling himself “Aragon,” to see if he was still interested in cumming on my face, and explained that I might be willing to accommodate the special request he’d had. Within a minute of my sending it, he replied in the affirmative. “Are you serious? I’d love to if you’re available.” He was one of the ones who’d offered to pay for it to begin with, so I figured he’d probably still be up for it. He’d also taken the liberty of sending a photo of his rather gorgeous cock with his first e-mail, so I knew what I’d be dealing with. He looked clean, in shape and his original e-mail didn’t scream at me “I’m an asshole.”
We worked out the finer details, and I agreed to meet him in the outer parking lot of a grocery store not too far from the house. In exchange for $150, I’d blow him and allow him to spray my face with his seed. “What made you change your mind?” A legitimate question, of course.
“I’ve been cockless for almost two years now. I’m having withdrawal,” I replied, laughing as I typed it out.
A fleeting thought passed through the back of my mind – at some point, I might be arranging to fuck people like this, basically. Deep down I knew I would, though I hadn’t allowed myself to fully admit it yet. Did my fascination with the idea of the facial lead to this, or was it just a natural evolution of my own sexuality? Were those even two separate questions? It didn’t matter. Within that mix was a sense of excitement, though. Based on what I’d learned in my discussions with the escorts for my project, it seemed like a unique and interesting way to earn some money if you knew what you were doing. It was, for all intents and purposes, the ultimate expression of the basic supply and demand theory of economics.
At the appointed time, I drove to the parking lot and parked toward the front near the store and waited for Andy to show up. He was running a few minutes late, but I saw his van pull into the parking lot just as I was wondering if he was going to flake on me. He parked in the section I asked him to, and I got out and started walking toward the truck. I was wearing a bikini top and a pair of short shorts. One thing about south Florida is that it is almost always swimsuit weather, and a girl walking around in a bikini, even at a grocery store didn’t faze anyone.
A big smile flashed across his face as he saw me approaching. I reached the van’s passenger side, opened the door and climbed in. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked him if he had the money. He handed me a wad of money and I counted it as being $160.00. “I don’t have change.”
“Don’t worry about it. Somehow I get the feeling this is going to be worth every dollar of it.”
“Ha. So, how do you want to do this?”
“Why don’t we just crawl in the back, you pull my pants down and take care of business?”
“Okay. You still want to cum on my face, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. Just let me know when you’re about ready to explode and I’ll let you jerk it off onto me, will that work?”
“Sure.”
“Alright, let’s do it.”
He climbed from the driver’s seat into the back of the van, and I followed him. I reached for his belt and undid it, and then unzipped his zipper slowly, licking my lips while looking into his eyes. I knew if I could get him worked up a bit mentally before I got to his cock, he’d be that much easier to get off. I began pulling his pants down and discovered he had no underwear on – easier access, he said. His cock was already partially at attention.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and began a slow handjob. “Have you ever done anything like this before, or is this a first for you?” I felt his cock begin to harden in my hand.
He seated himself on a bench that he had built into one side of it and spread his legs. “This is definitely a first, even though I’ve played around on CL quite a bit. I’ve never seen a hooker as hot as you are, so I’ve never really been that interested in doing anything with anyone from there before. Your pictures and the stories you’ve told about the facials tell me you know what you’re doing, so I thought I’d take a chance with you.”
“Are you married?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Just curious. I’m guessing your wife doesn’t go for the facial thing, huh?”
“Haha! No, not hardly.”
I untied my bikini top so he could see my tits, and then moved down to take his now hard cock into my mouth. The slightly salty, “skin” taste was just like I remember it being, and it felt so good to have a responsive piece of manhood in my mouth again. Giving head to a dildo may be visually appealing to the person wearing it, but for the giver, there’s nothing remotely comparable between that and sucking a real dick. A real one responds to you – your licks, your sucking, your nibbles and bites. You can feel it swell as he tightens and relaxes his PC muscles in response to your movements. It is alive, and you don’t get that kind of…satisfaction from going down on a fake cock.
I spent a couple of minutes getting his cock all wet with my mouth. “Do you want it slow and sexual or do you want porn star head?”
“Porn star head?”
“Yeah, you know, a spitting, hard core, deepthroating, face fucking blowjob?”
“Well, shit, if you want to do it that way, I’d be a dumbass to not let you do it.”
I pulled his cock out of my mouth and spit a big wad of saliva on it, and then went back down on him. He was about seven or eight inches long and not terribly thick, so I figured I’d have little problem getting it into my throat. I had trained myself to relax my gag reflex and was eager to try it out on him. As I began going further and further down on him, the back of my throat began to relax a bit more, and within a few minutes, I could get my face all the way down to the base of his cock. The more I worked it, the easier it became, and eventually I was able to fuck his cock with my mouth by taking it all the way into my throat. Once I began doing that, he began trying to meet my thrusts. He raised his hips off the bench and began face-fucking me.
I pulled him out of my throat and went back to working his cock with my hands, occasionally licking and teasing the head of it while staring him in the eyes. I could tell he was really enjoying this, and his hip movements suggested he wasn’t too far from blowing. I spit on it again and started doing a figure 8 with my head to let my tongue massage the underside of his cock as I slowly went up and down on him again. I’d pause occasionally to concentrate on the underside of his cock head, sliding my tongue slowly along the underside of it in a “come-hither” motion, followed by a slow faux-vagina kind of deal where I allow him to penetrate my mouth while I keep my lips pursed together a bit and my tongue stiffened on the underside of his shaft. Supposedly, this feels like the initial entry into a pussy for a guy. Finally, I started using my hand and my face to fuck his cock intensely.
“I’m gonna cum.”
I backed off his cock, and he stood up as much as he could in the back of the van as he took his cock into his own hand and began jerking himself off. In a matter of seconds his orgasm built to the point where it could no longer be contained. I told him to grab my head so he could aim it where he wanted it, and he was just able to get a handful of hair on the right side of my head before the first shot exploded out of the head of his cock. The shot went right up the bridge of my nose and forehead, and had that now too familiar warm then cool feeling to it. His second shot got me square between the eyes, and the splatter went across my eyelids - fortunately, I’d had my eyes closed. He got off a third strong blast that landed on my upper right cheek. His body spasmed violently as his cock thrust forward with each orgasmic contraction.
As the cum continued to ooze out of his cock, I took it in my mouth again and began sucking him dry. He softly moaned for a few seconds as I continued to lick his rod. “How was that? Worth the money?”
“Oh, fuck, yeah. You ought to be a pro,” he said, laughingly.
I, too, laughed inside as I pondered the thought. I reached over and grabbed my bikini top and tied it back up. The cum was draining down the end of my nose and hanging there like a translucent line of silly string. I reached up and twisted it around my finger and flicked it off onto the wall of his van without him noticing it.
I got up, moved to the back of the van and opened the door. “See you later.”
“What? That’s it?”
“What? Did you want to cuddle or something? Dude!” I shut the door, walked back to my truck, got in and wiped the cum off my face with a towel I’d brought just for that purpose. As I sat there pondering what had transpired, I realized that I really didn’t feel bad about it at all. I sure didn’t feel badly for blowing a random guy for the money, not $150 worth of it, anyway. That equated to about $10 a minute. And it was so nice to have a responsive cock in my mouth again after almost two years.
I drove home and began planning for my entry into professional whoredom.
