It happened, as I have already mentioned, last year when I was almost a senior in high school. It was not easy for me to study, and exams were hanging over me like a terrible storm cloud, capable of striking with lightning all those who by their stupidity could not learn the material of the school program. But despite all my fears about bad grades, my person led an extremely hedonistic lifestyle. Daily meetings with girlfriends, hangouts, and other activities, but highly unproductive activities took up all my time to study. My boyfriend at the time (I will call him Harry in the story) was very unhappy with my grades, because we wanted to enter a prestigious university together, and he was afraid that I would not be able to study there. But as soon as I butter him up a little bit, he quickly changed his anger for mercy and temporarily put an end to his complaints about my education.
Above I briefly introduced you to my life at that time. One average day, when I was talking to my friend (Mary) on the phone and sharing my occasional worries about my studies and future life, she advised me of an interesting and, as I thought, easy way to make money, namely selling my erotic photos using a dating site.
– There are a lot of perverts out there,” Mary said then, “you can save money for college.
– What if Harry finds out,” I wondered.
– He won’t,” my friend said confidently, “unless he’s out there looking for whores,” she said and laughed so loudly that her mother, who was in the kitchen with dinner, took her mind off cooking to hint to her daughter that she wasn’t alone in the apartment.
– And in general, communicate only with men over 35 years old, the main money there, – said the reassured joker, – them many married men want without harm to the marriage a little naughty and are willing to pay for it decent money.
Mary laughed out loud again, and when she heard footsteps in the corridor, she said goodbye in a hurry, referring to some business. And I, in turn, was left alone with my thoughts, fueling my interest in this kind of earnings. My head was assaulted with the theses that it was totally disgusting and wrong and that it was definitely not worth it.
I lasted twenty-four hours. Already the next evening, my computer screen was open to the website sluttyone.com. I did not like the name, because you could not call me slutty, do not get me wrong, I love sex, but I am not the kind of person who can give herself to the first person she meets just to fill her pussy. Despite my inner contradictions, my curiosity was no longer subsiding. A couple of minutes to register and here I began to receive a huge number of offers to meet, date, and have sex. Of all such fans, I chose the most sexy-ideal men who were over thirty years old and offered to buy my virtual sex and piquant pictures for the money. About sixty percent of the sample agreed, and I could make about a few hundred dollars in one day. This was an expected result. My appearance is nice and sexy: brown hair with puffy lips, athletic build, though from sports I am quite far. And although at first, I was embarrassed and ashamed, after the first five clients I realized that this kind of intimate communication turned me on. Subsequently, I started caressing myself during virtual sex to get the right attitude and satisfy the client with more than enough to stimulate his lust. This approach led to the fact that some of the men became my permanent sponsors. But even that did not seem to be enough. The truth is that it took a lot of time for beautiful pictures and intimate correspondence, and I had to postpone, as I thought for a while, my offline meetings. My boyfriend suffered from this most of all. We had much less sex, because I often cum with clients, and it seemed too tiring to interrupt work, cram Harry’s schedule between classes and extracurriculars, and go out for sex.
For me and the men on the site, everything began and ended online, without real meetings or sex. Although there were many offers and they started at a few hundred a night. I hope you understood what I had to give them for that. The money was not bad, my price was like that of an elite prostitute. With all that said, I didn’t want to and, to be honest, I was afraid to go out with clients. But everyone has his price. One day I got an email from a man whose profile said his name was John, he was fifty-four years old, and he was in the trucking business. He declined my offer of online sex, arguing that he was focused on “real life”, but put forward a counteroffer: to keep him company for an evening for a thousand dollars. For me, this amount was quite large, ten days of work, after all. I dared to write him a message saying that I did not meet for sex for any money. He told me that he wasn’t even offering sex, but that he was paying me the money just to go to a restaurant with him. A thousand just to meet him? Nonsense. But this man was persuasive and offered to video call me to make sure both that he was decent and that he could afford it. After thinking about it for a while, I agreed. On the phone with John, I realized that he had money. How? First of all, by looking at his apartment. The marble floor and fireplace, the antique columns, the gilded chandelier, and so on. Every detail of his home looked insanely expensive. Our conversation with him was fun and relaxed, though I thought I would not be able to relax. We joked and laughed and still made an appointment two days later at the weekend. I only agreed because John made a really good impression on me. And what could be wrong with an ordinary meeting? Especially if you get paid big money for it.
Before the meeting, I put on my makeup. I chose a bright one, even though I had originally planned to look as modest as possible. It was spring and quite cold outside, but this did not stop me from choosing a loose leather skirt above the knee, a blouse, a leather jacket, and heels. In short, I wore the best clothes I had. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I found myself looking like an expensive slut, an image that had previously been disgusting and unacceptable to me. As I admired myself, I bit my lower lip, lifted the edge of my skirt, and looked at the outline of my juicy ass, the halves of which were separated only by thin panties. My phone rang. A familiar name popped up on the screen, which meant it was time to come out.
My parents weren’t home for the weekend, so it wasn’t hard for me to sneak out looking like that. In the meantime, a black Cadillac Escalade was waiting for me outside. I went to the car and opened its front door. Behind the wheel was a handsome man in a black turtleneck and pants, with a gold watch on his wrist.
– Get in, why are you standing there? – he said and smiled.
– Hello,” I could only awkwardly answer.
When I got in the car and closed the door behind me, I could smell the pleasant smell of his expensive perfume.
– It’s nice to see you in person, Anna. You’re even more beautiful in real life than in pictures.
– Thank you,” I said embarrassed.
We drove for about half an hour, and during that time I tried desperately to overcome the embarrassment that suddenly filled my body. Not long ago, I was still standing in front of the mirror, enjoying my youth and sexuality, thinking that any man would fall at my feet if I could spend even a little of my free time with him. But sitting next to John, I realized how small and inexperienced I was, trying to surprise a grown and wealthy man. John, at the same time, exuded masculinity and self-confidence. He tried to make me talk the whole way, joking and complimenting me. When we arrived at the restaurant, he turned to me and said:
– “Well, here we are. I hope you haven’t changed your mind?
– No, why would you say that? – I blushed.
– When we were talking on the video link you were very active, and now you’ve been sitting almost silent for thirty minutes. Are you uncomfortable with me? Are you afraid I’ll deceive you?
– No, I’m comfortable, and I’m not afraid. I’m just a little embarrassed because we don’t know each other very well.
– Oh, that’s the point! Phew, I thought you were going to run away,” he said, smiling.
I don’t know why, but it was at that moment that I felt calm and easy. That smile was different from the one I’d seen from him before. Maybe it was just my imagination at the time.
– Here, your money. Take it, so it’ll be less stressful.
I held out my hand and took the money. After that, we went to a restaurant. It was not a cheap place, to put it mildly: luxurious interior, obliging waiters in beautiful suits, and live piano music.
– What kind of wine do you want? – John asked me.
– Oh, I probably won’t drink, my body doesn’t respond well to alcohol – I get drunk quickly.
– Good wine does not make you drunk, Anna, – said my companion with a smile on his face.
Any wine gets you drunk. I realized this clearly after the second bottle. Tasty, soft, flavorful, warming, yet still, alcoholic wine did its job, loosening my tongue and loosening my movements. John and I danced several times that night. He behaved as decently as possible while dancing, keeping his hands exclusively on my waist. In turn, I put my hands on my partner’s shoulders and trusted him completely. Next to him I felt so fragile, yet completely protected from any turmoil of this world. The evening was ending, and it was time for me to go home.
– I’ll order a car,” John said, “I can’t drive anymore.
Ten minutes later, a black Mercedes S-Class pulled up to the door of the restaurant.
– Do you mind if I ride with you to your house, so to speak, to see you off? – John asked me.
– I do not mind, – I answered playfully.
We got into the car, and I noticed that inside it was not quite normal. There was a wall between the driver and the rear passengers, like in a limousine, and the cabin itself seemed longer compared to the classic model. The window in the partition was closed.
– Does he know where we’re going? – I asked.
– He knows, he’s been informed,” John answered me with a sly smile.
The black Mercedes pulled into the driveway and sped through the streets of the city at night.
My newfound benefactor was mysteriously silent. And I drunkenly tried to adjust my skirt, to save the remains of my decency. And th…