Backstory
I never really thought I was pretty. I guess such insecurities would ultimately lead to my downfall, but it doesn't really make a difference when the only thing on a man's mind is sex. My first experience, in my line of work, happened when I was around 16. Hell, I wasn't even through with high school, when my parents threw me out of the house. Things had always been stressful between the two and I think something had to give. Unfortunately, it was me that ended up paying the price.
I had just run out of cash ($20 can really last you a week if you spend wisely) and the hunger pains were starting to get to me, so much so, I started making bad decision. Bad decision number one, at least the one they teach young girls like me, is to never go out after dark by yourself. I wandered the streets for an hour hoping that someone would leave a hotdog, from that stand on the corner of 72nd and Telephone, out in the middle of the sidewalk. My fantasy of that undisturbed, clean, hot food, just out in the open played over and over in my mind as I wandered aimlessly. People can have such weird thoughts when they're desperate.
Needless to say, I turned into a dark alley, unaware at the time, and stumbled upon my first customer. He backed me up against the wall and started to talk. His words were slurred and by the smell of his breath, he had one too many to drink. He was looking for a little action and in his inebriation, he mistook me for one of the night girls who walked the streets after dark; you know, the ones who fuck for money. I tried not to look at him, not because he was ugly underneath his stupid trucker hat, or because I didn't want to stare at his bulging belly, it was really more of the smell and how close he was getting to me just to talk.
Eventually, I heard the sound of his zipper and I tried to make my escape, but he wouldn't have none of that. He pushed me down to my knees and my hands came up to his waist to try and push him away. I tried to yell for help. Boy, was that a mistake. I should have known he had his dick out because as soon as I opened my mouth to call for help, he shoved it in.
Despite the situation I was in, I was thankful that he didn't have a big cock. He didn't make me gag or choke me, which was pretty good considering he probably wouldn't have noticed until the end. He did face fuck me and I tried to push him away, but it didn't help. I think he lasted a little over ten minutes before he came in my mouth. I couldn't believe that he was actually cumming along my tongue, his filthy spunk leaving a sour taste in my mouth. What was worse came after he pulled out and released the rest of his load on my face. My right eye was covered by his filth, as was my nose down to my chin. Tears ran down my face as he zipped himself back up and left. It was then, that I noticed something floating down to the ground in front of me. In the dark it was hard to tell just what it was, but when I reached out and grabbed it, I could feel the unmistakable papery feel of a dollar bill, and not just any dollar bill. He dropped two twenties right in front of me. I quickly pocketed the money thinking it was just a mistake, but when I looked around he was gone. I, too, quickly left after wiping his spunk off of my face with the only t-shirt to my name. It was then that my desperation came to an all time low.
The $40 left to me lasted me a gracious week. I was able to eat well, or at least as well as anyone could eat from greasy fast food and picking things off from the $1 menu at McDonald's. By the time my money was running low, I had already made the decision to sell my body. The last thing I bought with my cash was a box of condoms. I remember the lady working the cash register looking at me, a 16 or something girl. I could only imagine what she was thinking of me. I tried not to look at her, for my shame and embarrassment was getting to be a little too much for me. That night, I sold my virginity to the highest bidder.
When I was still in high school, I heard stories of many first times. I'm pretty sure mine takes the cake. It was in a car parked in an empty parking lot at some store. I made it a point in telling him I was still a virgin, one, because I knew I was going to make a mess, and two, because I expected more money. $100 from Mr. John Doe granted him my virginity. He tried to be kind and sincere, I think, but I could feel his lust. He was desperate to have me and eventually he grew impatient. I was impressed that he managed to get my clothes off in the cramped space of his car. He was aggressive and I could feel it as he touched my pussy trying to get me wet. That wouldn't happen, at least not with him, I was too nervous. Before he climbed on top of me and spread my legs, I managed to get the condom on his dick, which was a blessing because I think he was hoping I'd forget, which would have lead to me potentially getting pregnant, and that would have been very bad.
Mr. John Doe was rough, his lust had overtaken him since I first sat in his car. His thrusts were rough and hard, hurting me each time, even with a lubricated condom. I tried not to cry, but the tears rolled down uncontrollably, which he probably didn't get to see because it was so dark. Each of his thrusts brought forth a sort of moan from my mouth. I tried to get it to sound as sexy as possible, anything to make him cum early, but what came out was a mix of my pain and my effort; such a sad try really.
We had sex in the car for what seemed like an hour. To be honest, I had no idea as I wasn't keeping track, but I was glad to get up, get paid, and leave. I later used most of that money to buy some new clothes and underwear, since the only pair I wore was now ruined, and a bag to put it all in. I had officially upgraded my life, even if it was just a little.
Months passed by and began to learn my new 'trade'. The other girls on the street were ruthless, as it's just a big competition of who can get a client. I did have several things going for me that none of the others had. First, I didn't waste my money on drugs, booze, and cigarettes. I had yet to afford a place to live in, so I sure as hell wasn't going to give up what precious little I did earn to things that would make me look like a senior citizen, which brings me to point number two. I still looked young, even if I was dirty most of the time. I often got requests to play that innocent little schoolgirl. I even got one client to pay for the outfit.
Despite being surrounded by women who probably wished I had taken the easy way and just jumped off a bridge, there were some good ones who helped me. Clara and Angie, I probably owe a lot more than I ever gave anyone else. They taught me how to 'present' myself to a potential client. They told me the 'safe' spots, where I could go with less chances of getting caught and where police liked to patrol. They even taught me how to spot someone dangerous and even hooked me up with someone who me my first spray mace.
A year had passed and my name began to get around. I got myself a prepaid phone, so I could dispose of it or use it whenever needed. My number would go around to potential clients who would make requests of me. I officially moved up from being a street prostitute to being a call girl. The best part of it all, was that I was able to afford my own apartment. It was certainly not the best, but it sure did beat living on the streets. I invested in better clothes and sexy wear, anything that would make me desirable. I spent most of my life thinking I was ugly and here I was trying to make myself look cute, or sexy, or attractive, depending on the needs of my clients. It wasn't until I met her when everything changed. I was only months away from turning 18.
I had done my fair share of women, the kind who have a deep appetite for sex. They are rare, but they do exist. SHE, was something else. I first heard her voice when she called me. Apparently, one of my female clients, who I had the pleasure of serving, suggested me to her. From the tone of her voice and the way she spoke, I could tell she knew what she wanted, like someone who was rich who developed certain tastes in certain things. I guess what allured me to her in the first place was the deep richness of her voice, at least for a woman. It's very hard to describe, but the way she talked entranced me. We set up the meeting for later that night and she requested I wear something nice, but not too girly. Requests like that were rare, but not unheard of, so I slipped on some black slacks, and a white blouse that tucked into it with the top button undone. I was trying to go for the whole noir kind of look with what I had. Regardless, I tried to doll myself up without overdoing it, at least to the specifications of my client and I thought I did a pretty good job.
I had no idea the address she gave me was hers, until I actually saw the place. One of the rules taught to me on the streets was to never go to a client's house, but those rules generally referred to crazy men who would chain you up and use you over and over again. This was different, my client was a woman and something fascinated me about this whole situation. I knocked on the door and was greeted inside. The woman was certainly wealthy as her place was tons better than anything I could afford, but more so was the beauty I saw in her. She was gorgeous to say the least and I was instantly drawn to her even though she was much older. We sat down and talked briefly. I could easily tell from everything I saw and heard of this woman that she was very classy and so I tried to be the same. I knew that if I tried to be that slutty sex craved girl everyone else wanted of me, I would turn her off.
I must have been doing something right because we were soon at each other's clothes. My hands felt around her clothing touching her curves and special places. One of my hands came down across her stomach and my fingers curled up just to feel between her legs when I felt something odd. I knew what it was when I touched it for I felt such similar things many times before in my career as a prostitute, but on a woman, never. I looked up at her confused and I could see the understanding in her eyes. She slowly backed away and began to undo her own clothes. She asked me if I wanted to see, and I simply nodded my head. I must have looked so stupid to her, but never did she chastise me.
My eyes focused on the area between her legs as she peeled away her pants. I thought maybe it was a toy, one of those strap-ons, and she had a fetish to use it. I was completely wrong. It was no toy. I paid no attention to the undergarments she wore, which I tend to enjoy when I have female clients because I draw ideas on what I can wear. Instead, my eyes focused heavily on the throbbing cock in front of me. I looked at her eyes in confusion again, and this time, it was her turn to simply nod her head. I went down on my knees then and there and gave her the best blowjob I thought I could give. I heard her moans of pleasure and they stirred something deep inside me. She had to peel me off and away from her cock to bring me to the bedroom. She took control and guided me the entire time. Most clients want me to do all the work, but with her, she did most of it.
The night was one to remember. She was an amazing lover. I let her do things that no man had ever suggested before and we spent hours indulging in pleasure. It was the first time in my life when I truly experienced pleasure for myself. I had an orgasm, many of them in fact, and not the fake ones that I'm forced to put on for my typical male clients. No, she brought me to such new heights and when she physically grew tired, I took control and rode her. I returned what I could give, even though it probably didn't compare to her expertise. Hours passed and I remember thinking that I've spent way to much time with her than I do with typical clients. I should finish, so I could go back to the street and maybe pick up a client or two before heading home, but the pleasure was too good to pass up. When she regained her strength, she took control again showing me such exotic positions. Finally, her pace picked up and her moans began to crescendo. I knew instantly that she was ready to climax and I wanted her to. It was a good thing one of us was thinking that night because I completely forgot to put a condom on her. She pulled out of me at the last minute. I lay on my back as she came all over my body, from my stomach up to my neck. I remember wishing she had filled the void, that was now missing, with her cum.
I woke up around 7:30 the next morning. Thin blankets were draped over my naked body. I got up and began to dress quietly. My pants were on over my hips, yet unbuttoned, when I noticed she was watching me. She was propped up on one elbow, the sheets covered from her stomach down, so I could see her breasts, but not her cock. I wondered if she was hard underneath. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. She enjoyed last night and she could tell I had too.
I finished with my pants slowly, waiting for her to give me some signal that she wanted me. It never came. She simply watched me. When I was done, she nodded her head towards the nightstand where an envelope waited. Inside was the cash she owed me. For the first time, I felt bad about taking the money, but I did, I needed it for so many things. I began to walk out slowly, still wishing she would indicate her desire for me, but she let me leave.
I was passing through the kitchen when I had the impulse to grab a piece of paper from a magnetized pad on the refrigerator door and a pen. I scrawled a note on it and put it back on the refrigerator.
Last night was great. If you ever want to hook up again, feel free to call me. The next one's free.
I signed my name and left my number. I don't know what compelled me to leave that note, let alone give her my real name, but I left with the excited anticipation that I would hear from her soon.
I stayed in that night, hoping beyond hope she would call. She never did. I waited the next night for the same. Another night wasted. My longing for her began to get to me. I wanted to be touched by her and feel that amazing love that only lovers get from each other. I remember staring at my phone one evening. I was going to waste only an hour tonight, else I walk the streets for clients. I was about to give up when...
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