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My Life as a Call Girl

I loved working as a call girl. Meeting new people. Getting fucked. Getting paid. It was all good. I developed a well-defined clientele while working for Elite Escorts in the summer of ’14.  Most of them were professionals traveling through my area on business…looking for a bit of R & R.  Being a sales person by trade, I found an enigma in this line of business….what should have been a short sales cycle morphed into a long sales cycle. One would think that a sex-for-services transaction would be an “impulse buy” much like retail.  You know what you want and you go in and buy it.  Done.

But in my case, my sensual ways turned it into a long sales cycle…it became relationship sales.  I began to understand each man’s needs on a deeper level and they didn’t want to go in and just buy what they wanted…they wanted me.  They told me I was addictive. And it made for a wild ride. 
My pussy was so much in demand, that my schedule was set. I knew that the 3rd Tuesday night of each month was reserved for Tim, an engineer who worked in research and development for a pharmaceutical company. He was 35, born in Korea, but lived in Canada.  He was married with 2 children. His sexual tastes were basic and he usually asked me to stay the entire night.  I taught him more than he could ever imagine. By the time I was finished with Tim, he was a hedonistic hunter determine to take all he wanted. 

There was Andy, a sales rep who traveled the world, but lived in my hometown.  He was also married and he and his wife had no sexual connection.  He was probably my favorite regular.  God I loved hou he fucked me. He loved to put a chair in front of the hotel mirror and watch himself fuck me. I loved watching his big cock stretch my hole every time he pushed himself inside of me. He taught me how to control my gag reflex (a skill that I later found to be quite lucrative).  He was always bringing me gifts from Europe.  I still have some of the jewelry he gave me.  And when I put it on in the mirror…I think back to watching him balls-deep in my hole. FUCK! 
There was the good doctor, Robbie.  He was a surgical resident at the local army hospital.  I usually made house calls to see him.  He always wanted me on top, with my legs extended up to his neck.  I remember one night he requested I come see him at the hospital.  I had no idea there were certain hospital rooms designated for physicians on call for 24 hours.  He was able to adjust the bed at an angle that allowed me to ride him, just like he wanted.  And the trapeze (used for traction) was an added bonus.  I could leverage myself while I rode his cock for maximum pleasure for both of us. There were times I stayed longer than the hour just to fuck him more.
There were a handful of nameless clients who were not memorable to me, but I was obviously memorable to them, as they regularly used my services.  One, that I can’t recall his first name, was an A & R rep from a record company.  He always stayed at a very posh hotel and his room always had the in-room jacuzzi tub.  He had a fantasy of having his cock sucked underwater.  I didn’t know I had it in me, but I did it.  I could only hold my breath for about a minute before coming up for air.  But I kept diving down to see if I could last longer each time.  Ironically, I think it’s where my interest in breath play began.  He was kinky as hell and he always came with concert tickets.
I learned through these experiences that most men are afraid to ask their partners for what they really want.  There is an underlying fear of rejection that kept their dirty little fantasies bottled up.  This little slut did a public service allowing them to have what they really wanted.  To watch themselves fuck me.  To fuck in a hospital bed.  To have someone suck them underwater.

Readers, I have to be honest. There were a handful of men who were so fucking good in bed, that I considered picking up the tab and paying them.  There was this older Russian gentleman.  I know he was involved in some type of illegal shit because I got this vibe that he could break my neck in a matter of seconds.  But he drank my pussy like a fine vodka and fucked my brains out.  I was a swooning mess, desperately trying to say “thank you” in Russian, each time I left him.  “SPASIBO”
And there was the police detective who was hung like The Secretariat.  Jesus-effing-Christ, the man was huge.  When we fucked I always came.  I used to wonder if the reason he called a service for sex, was because his cock was just too big for the average gal to handle.  And trust me, it was uncomfortable at times…but I loved that feeling of fullness.  And he loved anal. So I would take every inch of his massive cock in my ass. It was life-changing. Sometime he would just hold me there and try to inch in a bit further. What a fucking bull. I wish I still had his number.
I get wet just reminiscing about my glory days of being a nasty little call girl. 
Stay tuned, lover. There's so much more to come.