Prostitute and Me
by FGL ©
don't exactly know what it was that made me go buy the services of a prostitute.
Well, okay, I must admit that the last statement wasn't entirely true.
Actually, the truth of the matter is that I can't really pinpoint it. The obvious answer seems to be lust. I could say that the reason I did it was simply that I was driven by the pure desire to have sex, and most of you reading this would believe it without second thought.
In fact, if the President were reading this he would believe it without second thought. Almost anyone would.
But when I spell out the situation to you, perhaps you will think differently. Because I know it was something else. Something many of you may be able to relate to.
I was eighteen and it was the summer before my first year of college. You know the summer: everyone is out raising hell, the school slut finally gets pregnant, all the athletes get DUI's, and all the band geeks finally start screwing each other. A typical summer in redneck Tennessee.
Now the way I know I bought the prostitute for more reasons than one is because at the time I actually had a girlfriend. And she was a good girlfriend to have, too. She was relatively intelligent, she was fairly attractive, she smoked a little weed, and, well, she fucked. See, at the time, the number one quality a girl could have was the reputation of having sex with whomever she was going out with. Not just anyone, mind you, because then she would be a slut or whore. But with her boyfriend. Or her steady date. That was okay. Regardless, I was the lucky guy to be dating "that" girl. She did a wonderful job of keeping me happy, too. Friday nights I would take her to a movie, then we'd have sex in the backseat of my car. Saturday's, I would go over to her house and we'd screw on the couch after her parents went to sleep. During the week, she'd come over after school and we'd fuck in my room. The typical teen sexual relationship.
My college of choice was Temple. Don't ask me why.
A two day orientation was held in the middle of July that summer, and although not mandatory, my parents were so excited about getting me out of the house that they made me go. (They gave me some phony explanation about getting to know the place, but I didn't buy it). So here I was, a country boy pretending to be an intellectual, heading up to a major northern city, with absolutely no clue as to how to live in the culture, climate, and pressure of such an atmosphere.
I flew up to Philadelphia one sunny morning via the ticket my parents bought for me.
It is a nice city. The air is surprisingly clean, the parks are well maintained, and the city lights up beautifully at night. If you know where to look, you can find some incredible things in Philadelphia.
But if you also know where to look, you can find some pretty nasty things. Dope dealers, gangbangers, bums, and... well, prostitutes.
I saw them all over the place on the bus ride from the airport to Temple's main campus. Black prostitutes, white prostitutes, Hispanic prostitutes, attractive prostitutes, fat prostitutes- they were all there. I'm telling you, Philadelphia is like a shopping mall of prostitutes.
And something about them turned me on.
Orientation lasted all day. And, despite what Bill Cosby may have you believe, orientation at Temple really sucks. Bored out of my mind, and fresh off warnings to stay on campus, I decided to go out that night. I decided to go out and just look around. Browse some, maybe. Perhaps, for this reason I cannot explain, do a little window shopping. Nothing wrong with that, right?
As soon as I hit the city streets, I saw them all over the place. In alleys, on street corners, in parking lots... everywhere.
"Hey baby, you lookin' for some fun?" a brown-haired, heavier prostitute asked me. I didn't respond. I just kept walking.
"Hey sweetie," another simply called to me. Again, no response. What was I doing? I was walking down the inner-city streets of Philadelphia after dark, with a slight erection, doing nothing but walking. Why was I doing this? What did I want to see?
Finally, after I had pretty much cleared downtown and ignored all the offers and sales pitches, I decided it was time to head back towards campus. I turned down a street that seemed to head in the general direction of campus, and found myself alone on a dark street. I quickly grew nervous that the surroundings were so dead and empty. I picked up my pace and walked past a shabby apartment building. A figure sat quietly on the staircase. I did my best to veer away from the staircase, as to hopefully go unnoticed.
"Lost?" a feminine voice asked me. I stopped suddenly, as if caught committing a crime or something. The voice laughed softly.
"Obviously," it concluded.
"Not really," I responded, not quite able to make out the figure in the darkness, "I'm just roaming."
"Roaming, huh? I doubt that."
The figure got up and stepped closer to me. I could make her out perfectly now. It was a woman in her early thirties with long, red hair. I was immediately attracted to her, even though she had a trashy look to her. She had blue rings of mascara around her eyes, she wore bright red lipstick, and her skintight skirt looked cheap and worn out. She wore a tight tank top, revealing only the fact that her breasts were teasingly large. I felt an erection slowly coming on again. Could she be?
"No really, I'm just walking," I said, which in actuality, wasn't a lie.
"In one of the worst neighborhoods in the city?" she asked with a look of doubt spread across her face," A nice boy like you... whatever you say."
"Seriously, I'm just walking around."
She stepped closer to me, dangerously close, and smiled.
"So you bored?"
Now, I really got nervous. I don't know why, but this was nerve racking. My erection stiffened. I really wanted to do this... why??
"Yeah," was all I could muster.
"Fifty gets you a blowjob," she said and locked her hands behind my head in an embrace, "And for a hundred, we fuck."
She said this with a very seductive voice, quite the saleswoman no doubt, and I was hooked.
"I've got a hundred," I replied. At this, she took my hand and led me down the street to an alley, which she turned into.
"What are we doing?" I asked nervously.
"Oh," she said as she stopped walking, "You want a room?"
I pondered this and looked at her.
"Well, what do you suggest?"
She again grabbed my hand, and this time led me halfway down the alley to several wooden crates next to a dumpster. The alley was dark, cold, and unfriendly. The buildings enclosing it were old and seemed uninhabited.
"Money first," she said with a very business-like tone.
I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a small wad of twenties. I gave her five of them, which she counted and recounted.
Happy with the payment, she kissed me softly on the lips. But as I went to kiss her again, she backed away. She walked over to one of the crates and summoned me to follow. When I got to her, I again tried to kiss her, but instead, she turned her head away. I started to complain, but before I could, she turned around and bent herself over one of the crates. She reached back and grabbed the bottom of her skirt with both hands, and tugged it up. She wasn't wearing panties underneath, so now I was staring at her bare ass. Although it belonged to a woman at least ten years my elder, it was one of the nicest asses I'd ever seen. Smooth, thick, and very sexy.
"Got a condom?" she asked me, not changing her position.
"Yeah," I answered and pulled it from my pocket.
"Use it no matter where you put your dick," she commanded.
"Huh?" was my response.
"I don't care if you fuck my pussy or my ass," she clarified, "Just make sure you use the condom."
I carefully unwrapped the condom, as a gust of wind sent chills through me. She was silent, just bent over the crate, her ass just waiting for me to touch it.
So I did.
After I unzipped my jeans, let them slide down my legs a little, and rolled the condom on my cock, I touched her ass. I simply ran the back of my hand across her left cheek. No response.
"Sweetie, it's getting cold," she said impatiently, "You're not getting scared are you?"
"N-no," I stammered, "Definitely not."
"Good," she answered, "Because this would be a shitty way for you to lose your virginity."
Thanks for the motivating pillow talk, sweetheart.
Despite this, my erection was at full strength now, and as I looked down at her thirty-year-old ass and grabbed her hips, I pushed myself inside her. Although it wasn't hard to penetrate her, it was incredibly erotic. Her pussy was worn, but I think that was part of what I wanted.
"There you go," she whispered back softly, "Good boy."
I pumped my dick into her pussy again and she responded by pushing herself back towards me. The sensations were tantalizing. I thrust forward again, and she pushed back my way. Damn she was good at this. She was looking for rhythm. I thrust forward again and this time she moaned a little. She actually moaned. Something about this sent a spark flying through me. I thrust forward again, this time harder. She pushed back, again moaning. I thrust forward, she pushed back. The pace picked up. Holy shit, I thought, I'm actually fucking her. This wasn't sex, this wasn't love - this was just fucking. I picked up the pace even more, ramming her forward as she drove me back. It was a great motion, my waist and her backside interlocked, rocking back and forth. She moaned again and this drove me nuts. I could hear the crate creak with every motion. I felt myself moving closer to my peak.
"Yes!" she moaned, "Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!"
I began plowing forward harder, now nearly throwing her whole body up on the crate with each thrust. She was loving it.
"Oh yeah!" she goaded me, "Do it harder, baby!"
The crate was seemingly ready to break as I continued fucking her. She was no longer pushing backward. She was just impaled on my cock, being tossed forward at each thrust. Each time her only response was an "oh." So as my hips continued to smack into her ass, and as I continued to ram my cock into her pussy, all I was hearing was "oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh." I was fucking like an animal. Like a beast. Like I was trying to hurt her.
That's when I understood what it was. I could never fuck my girlfriend like that, with that force... with that brute, reckless force. But for some reason, some instinct, I had to try it. I had to fuck something solely to fuck it. Solely to dominate it. To show my manhood, to no one in particular, but expect maybe myself
When I finally came, I cried out. A series of brilliant spasms shot up my cock, followed by a spray of cum that only the condom stopped. The pleasure was intense as I bit down on my teeth and squeezed my thumbs. For some reason, a conquest felt complete.
I collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. She let me lay over her for a few minutes, as I just stared down at her red hair.
"Okay, honey," she finally said, "It's time to go."
I got off her and she stood up and pulled her skirt back down. She kissed me lightly and smiled.
"You did good," she said.
"Yes," she nodded.
"Did you like it?" I asked.
"Yeah," she shrugged, "I actually did."
We parted ways a few minutes later, and I would never see her again. Nor would I ever use the services of a prostitute again.
Call me what you want it, but I'm still glad that I did it. I mean, it was with a woman I didn't know, in a city I didn't know, and at a time when I didn't care. So why not? Frankly, to this day, it was maybe the best sex I've ever had.
Except for maybe that time with the Swedish twins in the jacuzzi. But I'll tell that story some other time!
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