We have always fantasized about me working as a street prostitute in downtown LA…(or really being made to work as a prostitute…usually in Mexico, Tijuana..there is a whole real crazy story about that, that I will have to tell you later)…As summer hit and COVID eased, We decided to really look into making this a reality….after a lot of research and several internet posts…I spent two wild nights working as a prostitute…had a pimp and everything…I even did this while Hubby was out of town on business (so he could not stop me)….I sent him the below texts as it went down and after….it was really crazy fun (I have impulse control issues)…..needless to say he was glad to get home:
Tag: Prostitute
Playing With Fire – Part 1 (Male Perspective, Minor Degradation, Oral Sex, PIV, Creampie, Unprotected, Caught, Long Read)
I threw my duffle bag down on my bed and collapsed on top of it. A twelve-hour drive was exhausting. The trip home had been my first trip home in several months. My sisters were happy to see their big brother home for a few days, plus Mom and Dad were glad to see I was doing okay. Well, as good as I could anyways. A three-day weekend at home was just what I needed to get my head back on right, considering recent events had led me to a dark place. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I was out of the darkness completely, but the trip home had definitely brightened me up a bit.
Staring up at the ceiling of my room in the three-bedroom apartment, I just zoned out. All I could think about was how I needed to focus on my studies and get into a routine, and in time the darkness and pain would fade. It was my third year at the University of Alabama, and I was working on my major studies. I wanted to get my business degree with a minor in marketing, and four years in the U.S. Navy paid for just about everything. The plan was to get my degree and then go work for my Dad, who currently ran our small family restaurant. I say small, but even in the midst of the pandemic we actually saw an increase in sales. Centrally located, the local manufacturing plants in our town were only a couple blocks away, and the patrons from those plants made our family business one of the most popular lunch spots for miles. Dinner sales weren’t bad either, especially on the weekends. Problem was, my Dad was getting old. Already two years past retirement age, the wear and tear of the job was taking a toll on him. Knowing how tough of an old geezer he really is, I judge he has another three years in him at least before he concedes. I wanted to be prepared to step in those shoes when that moment happens.
Guy picked me up from a hotel bar and thought I’m a prostitute. I didn’t bother correcting him in his thinking. [FM]
I was supposed to meet up with my regular FWB at a hotel. He used to work there, so guys would just let us use any room that’s available and set to be cleaned anyways. He was late first and at some point said he has to cancel. Happens.
I was wearing quite a revealing black dress and a pair of heels, looking all dolled-up for him. Ordered myself a drink, chatted up the bartender (he’s cute as hell) and got another drink from some guy. He was ok, but boring as hell. Fortunately when he went to a bathroom another guy came over to have a chat. He was more than ok in my book, definitely two levels above the one that just left.
Who’s the boss
How I came into money is insignificant. Sure I’d love to tell that story as well but in the interest of what this audience is interested in we’ll just skip that part.
I retired at the age of forty. I lived modestly considering the bankroll I’d managed to amass. I dated many beautiful young women who always turned out to be gold diggers.
By the age of forty five I had given up on dating all together. I still had respect for the opposite sex but I knew I wouldn’t find love.
I decided to give these women what they wanted. I liked women in their early to mid twenties.
They had the energy to keep up with my insatiable sex drive. I had simply learned to be up front and offer to pay them for a weekend of debauchery instead of having a woman pretend to love a man twenty years older than her in lieu of a more comfortable lifestyle.
The night I had ad-supported, sponsored sex with an influencer and then repeatedly pressed her skip button [MF] -🥑
There I was, sitting in the corner chair of the hotel room, as the woman I met less than an hour earlier stood between my knees.
I already had some hints that things might get a little unconventional in here; but not being one to turn down an adventure, I had decided to roll with whatever happened.
She slowly kneeled, never breaking eye contact. Her tongue traced her parted lips, and her hands came to rest on my knees. Ever so slightly she stretched out her fingertips, and her red nails began to slide up my thighs, nudging my legs apart. After the longest 10 seconds of my life, she finally reached my belt and unclasped it. With that, she took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and the expression on her face shifted to an almost professional demeanor. Then two of her fingers gripped my zipper, as she spoke in a warm, smoky radio voice:
“Two million employers have used ZipRecruiter for their hiring needs,” she practically moaned the words as she straddled my lap and leaned into my ear, her hand still working my fly.
My Wife had a titfight. She lost…
I usually get to see my wife act scandalous. But tonight was certainly different. Tonight was a heartbreaker.
We were at dinner, at Steve’s house. He was a close friend. Well, he was *my* close friend.
Diane, my wife. Tagged along with me so it wouldn’t feel awkward between me, him, and his wife.
Oh, and his Wife? Absolute stunner. Aiesha, ebony woman. Thick, curvy, and just the right amount of fashion sense to turn you on. She wore purple eye shadow to compliment her deep blue lipstick. Her attire, at least when I was around, was more than revealing. A sequined black dress, it shined in the overhead light of our dinner table. Yep, there was no denying it. She was hot as hell.
Now. You’re probably wondering why Boasting about another mans wife. Don’t I have my own slice of heaven at home? Well, my wife *certainly* was gorgeous. Pale, but creamy skin. Long black hair. Piercing blue eyes, Luscious red lips. And a full, heaving chest. Her body type was similar to Aiesha. But there was a little bit more chub to her lower body. She had love handles. To paraphrase.
His Student Hooker Pt 4 [FFM][BBC][Prost][MMFF]
The floor show for the party is about to being, Paul has already seen a little of what Angie does, and is in for the time of his life, maybe.
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Into the room came Madeline, dressed in crinoline like a Southern Belle, right out of Gone With the Wind. Claire sucked her breath in, “Oooh, I love this one.” Paul noted Madeline had a small whip with a large knob in one hand and a chain in the other. “Oh please, Mr Dean, it has to be Mr Dean!” Claire mumbled.
Into the room, dressed only in a peter heater, came Mr Dean, on the other end of the chain. Jesus, thought Paul, A black man in chains how fucking thoughtless was that? But even he was entranced by the size of what was hidden below that little garment.
“Oh, yeah! We are in for a real treat here. It’s a role play, I’ve seen variations of this before, watch and be jealous!” Claire said.
Paul noted that on the other side of the stage from where they entered, there was two posts, with manacles hanging from them. Fuck! Is this going to get worse? he thought.
His Student Hooker Pt 3 [MF] [Prost]
Paul and Simone have set up house together. Simone is also Angie, a hooker, working at an upmarket brothel. Simone is seventeen, soon to be eighteen, an orphan and a student of Paul’s.
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Angie went to work on both Thursday and Friday evenings. On the first Saturday, Paul helped bring Simone’s bed from her former apartment, her clothes and some of her effects. Angie worked Saturday night and after a sleep in Sunday, Simone and Paul went to her former apartment to start the cleanup. Some of the furniture and electrical items went to a storage unit Paul already rented, the rest was left for pickup by the Salvation Army. Simone drove her father’s car back to Paul’s apartment block and left behind that part of her life.
That Sunday evening they had a light dinner and Paul shared a shower with Simone. They laughed and touched each other, their hands fondling each other like children with new toys. Paul knelt in the shower and licked Simone’s pussy, mouthing her clit until she came. Simone pulled Paul’s dick and as he began to fire his seed, she swept onto his cock and took it all, swallowing it as he came. They both slept soundly that night, and on the Monday, for the first time, they took the subway to school, together.
Cam [m]odel adventures: Part 2
I finish setting up and get comfortable in front of the screen. The camera is pointed at me, seemingly relaxed on the hotel bed. My hands are shaking with nervousness and excitement as I click “Broadcast”. The hashtags I use for my room quickly pay off and I’m starting to see a steady trickle of users. The most popular by far is #slave and #bdsm. Maybe there’s something attractive in the duality of my relaxed pose and the possibility of a dirty and intense performance.
The first few visitors are free viewers and I engage with them in a friendly banter. Sometimes, some of the best connections I make are with those who are simply there to watch for free. However, soon I start to see paying customers. They are usually men and most want to see something intense for their money. I am not sexually attracted to men and there’s something humiliating and degrading being a straight boy, being used by men as a prostitute. The thought of that somehow really turns me on.
Best Friend’s Girl: Part Two (One of Two) [MF] [Straight Sex] [Interracial] [Huge Boobs] [Busty]
It has been just over six months now since Chris walked out. I would like to say it has been for the best and that we had worked things out. But that would be a lie.
Chris moved back to Florida, for a while he had moved back in with his mom, but then he found a new girlfriend then moved out with her. Roxy, his ex-girlfriend, moved out of the apartment two weeks after Chris had left. I see her now and then. She still works at the rock place we had all went out to for dinner the night before he left.
It seems like only yesterday we were all together in this apartment. But that’s how memories are right?
We can remember things that happened years ago, just as vivid and just as intense as if they happened just moments ago.
I blame myself a lot for Chris leaving. If I hadn’t talked to him about setting himself straight, maybe he would have stayed and maybe our friendship wouldn’t have fallen apart. But that’s a lot of maybes.
Now I have to deal with the present.