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I live in a small apartment in a large council house, in a degraded suburb, one of those places that sometimes show on television, in the news reports, where the topic is the youth discomfort. I'm thirty-five years old and I have two children of eight and ten. My husband abandoned us to run after one of twenty, and now I don't even know where he lives, what he does. At first it was hard, and as soon as the little money he left us ran out, I didn't know where to bang my head. Luckily, given the situation outside the house we were not thrown out, but having to deal with bills, food shopping, some clothes, was becoming a desperate undertaking.
Then I started to make hustlers, in short, to give it away for money. It started by chance with the technician of the washing machine, to whom I owed a hundred euros for the repair. Not knowing how to do it, and having understood the situation, he made me understand that if I was willing, he would pay the bill.
The sexting were at school and I got laid in the bedroom, without thinking too much about it.
I must say that I also liked him, the guy was sexting and well-endowed, and he didn't even make me miss the attention that was often taboo for my husband.
I told him that if he wanted, he could do it again as often as he wanted. He's still my client, and he comes almost every week. Then it was the baker's turn, with whom I first cleared the bill for the IOU I had left, and now he pays me. Finally, word got around to a few friends, and now I have about thirty regular clients, with sometimes two or three meetings a day. I only work in the morning, a bit because the children are at school, and also because the block is less frequented, the women are shopping, the husbands at work, the boys at school. Not that there are any particular problems, because a certain way out is normal anyway, I know about a guy who deals on the second floor, and they told me about a couple of apartments to the last ones they sublet and real professional escorts.
I also have a price list, which I apply to everyone equally. Fifty euros for a blowjob, eighty for fucking, and a hundred and fifty for full service.
Many people, given the crisis, perhaps only get a blowjob, and I do not mind after all. I undress and let them touch it while I suck it, usually they don't take long to come, and I save the condom too. Only one guy wants full service. It's a guy who introduced me to the baker, his accountant, or accountant, I don't quite get it. He comes every week, always on Wednesdays.
I keep the whole morning reserved just for him, because lately he's made a habit of wanting to come twice, and he gives me two hundred euros.
Even though he's in his fifties, he's a big, strong guy with a big, hard dick. First I blow him for a while and then when I feel that I got wet I make him fuck me trying not to make him come.
Then he puts it in my ass that I previously lubricated well with an ointment that the pharmacist gave me. Usually we enjoy together with him panting and puffing and me screaming like a real slut.
The second one we do, after a bit of fucking, he wants me to touch myself, and he jerks off by cumming on my tits.
I've been going on for a few months now, I've paid off all debts, paid back bills, bought some new clothes at the Chinese's convenience store. Even my sexting don't walk around like ragamuffins anymore, and I've even managed to save up a few bucks. I'm starting to think about what to do when school is over, what to invent to get a free house in the morning.
One afternoon I hear the doorbell ringing on the front door. I'm not waiting for anyone, but before I open it I look through the peephole. There is a woman I recognize as my neighbour, she occupies an apartment at the end of the corridor, on the other side of the stairs. I ask who she is and she says, "the neighbor, I'd like to talk to you."
I'll open them and let you in.
She's a girl in her thirties, not very tall, with a wiry hair, who hasn't seen the hairdresser in months. She's wearing some kind of pajamas bought from the Chinese, with rabbit slippers at her feet. She wouldn't even look ugly, but she has the sex appeal of a snail. I sit her down and to make her comfortable I offer her a coffee she doesn't refuse. It's the first time I look at her closely, we were alone and always glimpsed in passing, and like everybody here, nobody pays attention to their neighbors. I'm wondering what she might want when she starts talking. She starts telling me about a husband who always leaves her alone, always out on business, not having any friends, not knowing anyone, having moved a few months ago from another southern city, having a lot of free time and not knowing what to do to fill it.
Then, probably taking the courage with two hands, she tells me that she has understood what I do in the morning, that she has always seen the usual people who come to see me, that she has eavesdropped behind the door, that she knows that I am getting paid, and that with that work I make a living. I am about to get angry and throw her out, but she is perhaps ready for this reaction of mine before me, telling me that she is not here to blackmail me, or to make morals, but because she would like me to take her to work, to introduce her into the job.
I'm left speechless and speechless.
My brain starts working and analyzing the situation. If I kick her out, maybe she starts doing it on her own, and takes a few clients away from me, or she screws up and we both get caught.
On the other hand, if I put her in my business, we will have to enlarge the clientele, or I could skim what she earns, but you risk a conviction for exploitation of prostitution, and I do not know if I want to take that risk.
Then it occurs to me that we could do something different, maybe propose to some of my clients, the fantasy of doing it with two women together. Which is the dream in any horny male's drawer.
I propose it to her and I see her face light up. "Would you really do that"? That's the question I feel like asking.
Yeah, but, baby, you can't just show up looking like that in front of someone who wants to fuck you.
Tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock I'll come to your house with a few of the right underwear to try on, while tomorrow morning you go and get your hair fixed so you can't be seen, and then I'll see if I can spread the word and see what happens.
The next day at five to three, I'll ring the bell and she'll come and open the door for me.
She's still wearing her flower pajamas from the day before, but she fixed her hair.
I'm sure she went to that little Chinese girl's open house for cheap money.
But she's got a passable helmet cut, and she's got a good straightening on the plate.
She offers me a coffee so as not to feel inferior, and while sipping it she looks at me as an investigator, curious about what she will have to try.
I tell her to take off her pyjamas, that I want to see what she looks like, just to understand.
She takes it off and stays with a white cotton panties, and a white bra too, it looks like the underwear of a little girl, of a junior high school student.
Holy shit, you don't shave...
Under her armpits she has two beautiful black tufts, and her pubic hair runs out of her dark, shaggy panties, and goes up thinner and thinner almost to her navel. She also has a thin hairs on her legs, which you can barely see.
I remain to look at her a little surprised, and after a first moment in which I disapprove, it seems to me instead that it is disturbing, that it exudes a strange charm mixed with innocence and times gone by.
I thought I'd make you wear some clothes a bit more slutty, but this rookie girl look you have with all this fur and high school underwear I like, I think it can get horny.
Then, hearing this sentence, he goes away and after a couple of minutes he comes back, wearing a pair of white flower-shaped underwear, almost at the navel, and a tank top with the same design.
It's stuff she's holding on to, maybe from when she was a sexting. But this is even more intriguing, and I want to touch her, to smell her hairy pussy.
I'm telling her it's perfect, that's what she's gonna have to wear. One day before I'll let her know, and not to show up with a head that looks like it came out of a trip in a dishwasher, but to go to the hairdresser.
I'll spread the word among the customers. Some of them are possibilists, others scared of the rate they assume will at least double it. One is immediately enthusiastic, the accountant, who wants to schedule a meeting for Wednesday to come. He says that he will want to see us doing it, that he will only be a spectator, and that if we are good, he will reward us properly.
The very afternoon I ring her bell, she opens the door, she lets me in, and I tell her that there is someone who wants to see us while we fuck, but that he is my best client, and if we are good, there will be a nice profit.
For the first time I see her facing a fait accompli, afraid that she will not live up to the situation. She tells me that she's never been with a woman, and that she doesn't know what to do.
I can't confess to her that it would be the first time for me too, but now I'm starting to have some experience with sluttiness, and I know what has to be done.
I think back to all that hair I saw and I feel like sticking my nose in it again.
I tell her that we have to try and do it, that I have to "deflower" her.
Tomorrow afternoon the sexting go on the school trip, and I'm alone. After 2:00 we'll have plenty of time to fuck in peace.
At 2:15, the doorbell rings and I open the door. I'll let her in. Her hair is freshly done, you can see she went to the Chinese in the morning. She's wearing a short dress, and she's wearing a headband, and it shows off her little ass and tits. She's wearing flesh-colored pantyhose, and low-cut pumps like a ballerina. I have to say, she's gotten into the high school part pretty good. "I'm doing good"? I hear them say...
You're doing great, honey. Let's go over there and see what we can do.
I escort her into the bedroom, where I turned on a darkened lamp, the one I use with clients to create the atmosphere, and I take off my robe. Underneath I'm dressed like a real slut, with garters, a black bodysuit all embroidered, transparent thong and lace guepierre. She looks at me in amazement, and then she takes off her little dress, remaining with the tights and the cotton outfit she was wearing the other time at home. With one push I throw her on the bed and then I jump on her. I stick my tongue in her mouth, which she holds tight for a moment, but then she opens it and lets me in, in turn putting her own into action. It's been a lifetime since I've made out with anyone. I never let customers kiss me. Then I can't resist and I stick my hand under her pantyhose in my pants, to feel that skein of fur that has been tormenting my thoughts for a few days.
Five minutes and we're both naked. I have to say that after a shy and awkward start she melted down, and she's very good at it. She whispers to me that her husband hasn't screwed her in months and that she has a backward birthmark that drives her crazy. She tells me how she's now flayed by the force of rubbing her fingers, every time she goes to the bathroom, every time she hears someone entering my house, at the thought of someone fucking me, and that I even get paid.
Then my vein stops, and I get on that hairy tuft, I want to eat it, feel the taste of those wet hairs, chew them with my teeth, squeeze her clitoris until I hear her scream.
She's gone to make dinner for her husband. I'm heating up the micro waves in the fish sticks while the potatoes are cooking in the fryer. The sexting are crazy about this crap. My pussy's burning. After I made her come, she licked me for an hour, and she bit me, not hard, but in the right size, which instead of hurting, just makes you enjoy it. I came at least three times, and now I feel like I've done the New York City marathon, I'm so exhausted. If I'd been told that stupid girl could knock me out with a lick, I wouldn't have believed it. But it's all true.
The accountant just left. He gave us five hundred euros, and said he'd never had so much fun in his life. In the end he couldn't resist and after an hour of enjoying the show, he threw himself in our midst, and we blew him in two. It only took a few sucks and a couple of licks and he splashed like a pig, so excited he was. I thought he was gonna have a heart attack.
He said we're wasted here, that we deserve bigger stages and he'll let us know.
My slutty neighbor hadn't come yet, and I had to lick her for another half hour, risking my sexting coming and finding us naked in bed while we were licking her.
It was a close call........
Then I started to make hustlers, in short, to give it away for money. It started by chance with the technician of the washing machine, to whom I owed a hundred euros for the repair. Not knowing how to do it, and having understood the situation, he made me understand that if I was willing, he would pay the bill.
The sexting were at school and I got laid in the bedroom, without thinking too much about it.
I must say that I also liked him, the guy was sexting and well-endowed, and he didn't even make me miss the attention that was often taboo for my husband.
I told him that if he wanted, he could do it again as often as he wanted. He's still my client, and he comes almost every week. Then it was the baker's turn, with whom I first cleared the bill for the IOU I had left, and now he pays me. Finally, word got around to a few friends, and now I have about thirty regular clients, with sometimes two or three meetings a day. I only work in the morning, a bit because the children are at school, and also because the block is less frequented, the women are shopping, the husbands at work, the boys at school. Not that there are any particular problems, because a certain way out is normal anyway, I know about a guy who deals on the second floor, and they told me about a couple of apartments to the last ones they sublet and real professional escorts.
I also have a price list, which I apply to everyone equally. Fifty euros for a blowjob, eighty for fucking, and a hundred and fifty for full service.
Many people, given the crisis, perhaps only get a blowjob, and I do not mind after all. I undress and let them touch it while I suck it, usually they don't take long to come, and I save the condom too. Only one guy wants full service. It's a guy who introduced me to the baker, his accountant, or accountant, I don't quite get it. He comes every week, always on Wednesdays.
I keep the whole morning reserved just for him, because lately he's made a habit of wanting to come twice, and he gives me two hundred euros.
Even though he's in his fifties, he's a big, strong guy with a big, hard dick. First I blow him for a while and then when I feel that I got wet I make him fuck me trying not to make him come.
Then he puts it in my ass that I previously lubricated well with an ointment that the pharmacist gave me. Usually we enjoy together with him panting and puffing and me screaming like a real slut.
The second one we do, after a bit of fucking, he wants me to touch myself, and he jerks off by cumming on my tits.
I've been going on for a few months now, I've paid off all debts, paid back bills, bought some new clothes at the Chinese's convenience store. Even my sexting don't walk around like ragamuffins anymore, and I've even managed to save up a few bucks. I'm starting to think about what to do when school is over, what to invent to get a free house in the morning.
One afternoon I hear the doorbell ringing on the front door. I'm not waiting for anyone, but before I open it I look through the peephole. There is a woman I recognize as my neighbour, she occupies an apartment at the end of the corridor, on the other side of the stairs. I ask who she is and she says, "the neighbor, I'd like to talk to you."
I'll open them and let you in.
She's a girl in her thirties, not very tall, with a wiry hair, who hasn't seen the hairdresser in months. She's wearing some kind of pajamas bought from the Chinese, with rabbit slippers at her feet. She wouldn't even look ugly, but she has the sex appeal of a snail. I sit her down and to make her comfortable I offer her a coffee she doesn't refuse. It's the first time I look at her closely, we were alone and always glimpsed in passing, and like everybody here, nobody pays attention to their neighbors. I'm wondering what she might want when she starts talking. She starts telling me about a husband who always leaves her alone, always out on business, not having any friends, not knowing anyone, having moved a few months ago from another southern city, having a lot of free time and not knowing what to do to fill it.
Then, probably taking the courage with two hands, she tells me that she has understood what I do in the morning, that she has always seen the usual people who come to see me, that she has eavesdropped behind the door, that she knows that I am getting paid, and that with that work I make a living. I am about to get angry and throw her out, but she is perhaps ready for this reaction of mine before me, telling me that she is not here to blackmail me, or to make morals, but because she would like me to take her to work, to introduce her into the job.
I'm left speechless and speechless.
My brain starts working and analyzing the situation. If I kick her out, maybe she starts doing it on her own, and takes a few clients away from me, or she screws up and we both get caught.
On the other hand, if I put her in my business, we will have to enlarge the clientele, or I could skim what she earns, but you risk a conviction for exploitation of prostitution, and I do not know if I want to take that risk.
Then it occurs to me that we could do something different, maybe propose to some of my clients, the fantasy of doing it with two women together. Which is the dream in any horny male's drawer.
I propose it to her and I see her face light up. "Would you really do that"? That's the question I feel like asking.
Yeah, but, baby, you can't just show up looking like that in front of someone who wants to fuck you.
Tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock I'll come to your house with a few of the right underwear to try on, while tomorrow morning you go and get your hair fixed so you can't be seen, and then I'll see if I can spread the word and see what happens.
The next day at five to three, I'll ring the bell and she'll come and open the door for me.
She's still wearing her flower pajamas from the day before, but she fixed her hair.
I'm sure she went to that little Chinese girl's open house for cheap money.
But she's got a passable helmet cut, and she's got a good straightening on the plate.
She offers me a coffee so as not to feel inferior, and while sipping it she looks at me as an investigator, curious about what she will have to try.
I tell her to take off her pyjamas, that I want to see what she looks like, just to understand.
She takes it off and stays with a white cotton panties, and a white bra too, it looks like the underwear of a little girl, of a junior high school student.
Holy shit, you don't shave...
Under her armpits she has two beautiful black tufts, and her pubic hair runs out of her dark, shaggy panties, and goes up thinner and thinner almost to her navel. She also has a thin hairs on her legs, which you can barely see.
I remain to look at her a little surprised, and after a first moment in which I disapprove, it seems to me instead that it is disturbing, that it exudes a strange charm mixed with innocence and times gone by.
I thought I'd make you wear some clothes a bit more slutty, but this rookie girl look you have with all this fur and high school underwear I like, I think it can get horny.
Then, hearing this sentence, he goes away and after a couple of minutes he comes back, wearing a pair of white flower-shaped underwear, almost at the navel, and a tank top with the same design.
It's stuff she's holding on to, maybe from when she was a sexting. But this is even more intriguing, and I want to touch her, to smell her hairy pussy.
I'm telling her it's perfect, that's what she's gonna have to wear. One day before I'll let her know, and not to show up with a head that looks like it came out of a trip in a dishwasher, but to go to the hairdresser.
I'll spread the word among the customers. Some of them are possibilists, others scared of the rate they assume will at least double it. One is immediately enthusiastic, the accountant, who wants to schedule a meeting for Wednesday to come. He says that he will want to see us doing it, that he will only be a spectator, and that if we are good, he will reward us properly.
The very afternoon I ring her bell, she opens the door, she lets me in, and I tell her that there is someone who wants to see us while we fuck, but that he is my best client, and if we are good, there will be a nice profit.
For the first time I see her facing a fait accompli, afraid that she will not live up to the situation. She tells me that she's never been with a woman, and that she doesn't know what to do.
I can't confess to her that it would be the first time for me too, but now I'm starting to have some experience with sluttiness, and I know what has to be done.
I think back to all that hair I saw and I feel like sticking my nose in it again.
I tell her that we have to try and do it, that I have to "deflower" her.
Tomorrow afternoon the sexting go on the school trip, and I'm alone. After 2:00 we'll have plenty of time to fuck in peace.
At 2:15, the doorbell rings and I open the door. I'll let her in. Her hair is freshly done, you can see she went to the Chinese in the morning. She's wearing a short dress, and she's wearing a headband, and it shows off her little ass and tits. She's wearing flesh-colored pantyhose, and low-cut pumps like a ballerina. I have to say, she's gotten into the high school part pretty good. "I'm doing good"? I hear them say...
You're doing great, honey. Let's go over there and see what we can do.
I escort her into the bedroom, where I turned on a darkened lamp, the one I use with clients to create the atmosphere, and I take off my robe. Underneath I'm dressed like a real slut, with garters, a black bodysuit all embroidered, transparent thong and lace guepierre. She looks at me in amazement, and then she takes off her little dress, remaining with the tights and the cotton outfit she was wearing the other time at home. With one push I throw her on the bed and then I jump on her. I stick my tongue in her mouth, which she holds tight for a moment, but then she opens it and lets me in, in turn putting her own into action. It's been a lifetime since I've made out with anyone. I never let customers kiss me. Then I can't resist and I stick my hand under her pantyhose in my pants, to feel that skein of fur that has been tormenting my thoughts for a few days.
Five minutes and we're both naked. I have to say that after a shy and awkward start she melted down, and she's very good at it. She whispers to me that her husband hasn't screwed her in months and that she has a backward birthmark that drives her crazy. She tells me how she's now flayed by the force of rubbing her fingers, every time she goes to the bathroom, every time she hears someone entering my house, at the thought of someone fucking me, and that I even get paid.
Then my vein stops, and I get on that hairy tuft, I want to eat it, feel the taste of those wet hairs, chew them with my teeth, squeeze her clitoris until I hear her scream.
She's gone to make dinner for her husband. I'm heating up the micro waves in the fish sticks while the potatoes are cooking in the fryer. The sexting are crazy about this crap. My pussy's burning. After I made her come, she licked me for an hour, and she bit me, not hard, but in the right size, which instead of hurting, just makes you enjoy it. I came at least three times, and now I feel like I've done the New York City marathon, I'm so exhausted. If I'd been told that stupid girl could knock me out with a lick, I wouldn't have believed it. But it's all true.
The accountant just left. He gave us five hundred euros, and said he'd never had so much fun in his life. In the end he couldn't resist and after an hour of enjoying the show, he threw himself in our midst, and we blew him in two. It only took a few sucks and a couple of licks and he splashed like a pig, so excited he was. I thought he was gonna have a heart attack.
He said we're wasted here, that we deserve bigger stages and he'll let us know.
My slutty neighbor hadn't come yet, and I had to lick her for another half hour, risking my sexting coming and finding us naked in bed while we were licking her.
It was a close call........
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