campusvamp
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Eight months ago...
The hands holding my head between them tightened. Hips pushed upwards from the mattress, sliding the cock in my mouth deeper. Tim groaned and I felt the first pulse of his shaft against my tongue as hot cum splashed against the back on my mouth. I waited, motionless, letting hands pull my head down until there wasn't room for more cock. I tightened my lips around the shaft as the soft bulbous head turned into a hard pressure against the back of my mouth. Tim's groans changed to low moans. I waited patiently while Tim's cock pulsed on my tongue as streams of his cum filled my mouth.
This still surprised me when I thought about it. Me, the girl who two weeks ago had never tasted cum, who now swallowed multiple cum loads from strangers every week. I heard a soft, 'Fuck, that was good...' as Tim's hands released my head. I slid my lips slowly up the hard shaft to remain clamped around the tip. My hand moved, milking the last drops of cum into my mouth. I sucked hard on the tip before lifting my head to meet Tim's eyes, letting him watch my tongue play with his cum. With a finger, I pushed a cum drop that escaped back into my mouth.
The taste and texture were nothing like I'd imagined when I was a cum-virgin. It was too watery to be slimy; too thick to be watery. The taste was more like an aftertaste: slightly bitter, metallic and salty. I let Tim watch me play his cum around my mouth for several seconds before I swallowed.
"Mmm, yummy," I lied with a smile. Cum would never make it on my best tasting food list but I no longer hesitated when I swallowed now. I didn't move to cuddle. In the days since I'd become a Call Girl, I'd learned that men wouldn't kiss after I'd held their cum in my mouth. Instead, I moved off the bed and walked to the mini bar to mix more drinks. Two fingers of bourbon neat for Tim. I added ice and cola to mine. Tim sat up as I handed his drink to him. I made a show of swishing my drink in my mouth as if cleansing my teeth of any lingering cum.
After I sat, Tim leaned over, not to kiss me but to suck on my boobs. This was only our second time together, but I already sensed that he was a boob-man. He really loved fondling and sucking on my 34DDs. I surreptitiously looked at the clock on the night table beside the bed. I'd been here only 45 minutes. Tim had paid for two hours. He still had an hour and fifteen minutes of my time and body. I settled comfortably on the bed to let Tim have his fun time, taking turns sipping bourbon and sucking on my hard nipples.
Our first time together had been in his office. It had been my very first time with a client. Tim was rushed, caught between being horny and a scheduling crisis. In fifteen hurried minutes, I'd gone from being 'a good girl' to being a whore. Tim had been true to his pledge to request Marla to send me to him again. Today we were in a hotel and he wasn't rushed. Tim finished his drink quickly and walked over to refill his glasses. As he brought back the bottle, I saw his now soft cock peeking from his bush. I wondered if Tim would want more sex in the time remaining.
Instead of foreplay we talked. Or rather, Tim talked: a litany of his life's woes. A boring job and colleagues he hated. A marriage held together only by the gravity of his money that his wife spent as fast as he made it. A daughter in college; a C-minus student who changed her major every semester and only called to ask for more money.
"The only thing she's studying is how fast can she fuck every frat boy at her college," Tim slurred, refilling his glass again. His eyes had the slightly unfocused look of a brain beginning to run on alcohol instead of blood.
There was no more sex. Tim played with my tits and fingered my pussy. I tried, did what I could... I stroked and sucked his cock, but the flag remained stubbornly at half-mast. Tim was drunk and half-asleep even while I had his cock in my mouth. Time ran out and as I dressed beside the bed, Tim turned onto his side to watch.
"There's an envelope in my coat's pocket. It's for you."
"Thank you," I said as I slipped the envelope containing his 'gift' to me into my handbag. I pulled the covers up and tucked them around Tim's neck.
"No one has tucked me into bed for a very long time," he sighed and fell asleep.
**********
I stopped in mid-stride it as I walked towards the entrance to the subway. I swear it called me by name! It was in the window of a boutique I couldn't have afforded to enter two weeks ago. I thought of the two envelopes in my handbag and didn't think. The dress looked fantastic on me as I turned and posed in front of a mirror.
The thin, clingy material hugged every curve of my body. The low, strapless top was tight and tried to press my boobs flat. The result? The tops of my big boobs were squished out and up to new heights with the deep cleft of my cleavage prominently displayed. The dress was made for shorter girls. On my tall frame the fabric stopped just below where the swell of my ass began. Twisting my neck and back into a painful pretzel, I could see... My ass looks amazing! My mom would explode if she ever saw me wearing this in public. That only made me want it more. I paid and wore the dress out of the shop.
I walked for half-a-block when I saw them in the store window. High-heeled, open toed sandals that were perfect! for my new dress. I wore the shoes from the store. I no longer walked: I strutted. While I strutted, I got a text from Marla: Office ASAP.
Despite receiving 'gifts' from two clients today, I was almost broke again when I boarded the subway. Broke but from how men stared at me I looked like a million bucks.
**********
"What... The Hell... Are you wearing." Marla didn't sound happy.
"It's a new dress I just bought. You don't like it?"
"It fine for a party at night while you pose as arm-candy for a gay man who is still in the closet,' Marla replied in a dry voice. "It's completely inappropriate for the middle of the day. You look like a fucking prostitute!"
"Well, duh! I am a prostitute."
"But you don't need to look like one!" Marla's voice hardened and raised to levels I hadn't heard before.
"Go change and toss that thing in a shoe box until you're invited to a slut party," Marla ordered. Once I changed clothes Marla pointed at a chair and told me to sit.
"Viv, I've been patient, more than patient," Marla sighed, tapping a perfectly manicured fingernail on her desk. "Letting you fill my storage closet with your things. Letting you use my bathroom to change clothes and put on makeup. But my patience is at an end. You need to move out of my office soon! It's past time for you to have your own apartment."
"I know. I know, Marla. It's just... I can't seem to save enough money," I explained. Money seemed to flow through my fingers faster than cum through a client's dick. There was always clothes or another pair of shoes I just had to have!
"You don't have the money," Marla sounded astonished. "Viv, you're sitting on an ass that I charge clients a high price to use! A very high price."
Marla looked at me slouching in my chair and frowned.
"Speaking of sitting, young lady, posture is the first thing a client notices."
"I thought it was my big boobs men noticed first," I countered as I sat up with my back ramrod straight.
"Tits will get you only so far, Viv," Marla volleyed back. "My clients aren't paying me top dollar for common street whores! They expect poise and sophistication in addition to sex."
Marla waved a dismissive hand in my direction.
"If all a man wants is a cock sucking slut, he can drive to any corner on Fifth Street. If a man wants a young lady who enjoys oral sex, he comes to me. It's best you begin cultivating the finer attributes along with your oral skills. "
Lecture over, Marla got back to why she'd texted me.
"Viv, I've been patient. I've sent you to meet fifteen clients. Since I'm the one depositing money into your bank account, I know exactly how much you've earned. Not to mention the gifts... Really, Viv? Have you no self-control?"
Marla leaned back against her chair's back. (With perfect posture, of course!) Her manicured fingernail tapped faster on her desk.
"I've been patient, but patience runs out. So here's the deal..." Marla pointed a slim finger at me. "One week. You have seven days to move out of my office and into an apartment. Any box in my storage room past that date gets tossed. Any makeup cluttering my office bathroom gets shit canned. Viv, it's your money. I can't tell you how to spend it. But I strongly suggest you put together enough money to get an apartment before you buy more clothes and shoes!"
"I can't earn that much in a week and have time to look for an apartment!"
Marla tap, tap, tapped her desktop with a thoughtful look on her face
"I didn't consider you since you don't work on weekends but... To help you earn enough money quickly," she spoke slowly. "I have a client who wants three girls this Saturday. It's a bachelor party. A car will be outside my office at noon to pick you and the other girls up. The party will last until 4am Sunday morning. Needless to say, the fee you'll receive for a sixteen-hour party with fifteen or so men should be more than enough for you to rent any apartment you find next week."
"Fifteen men!" The thought of that many men fucking me was frightening. I began trying to weasel my way out of this 'party/orgy/gangbang'.
"But, Marla, it's the weekend. I can't tell Mom I'm working..."
"Don't even try, Viv," Marla cut me off. Her tone was iron; her slender finger was pointed at me for emphasis. "Tell your mom you're doing a sleepover with a girl you met at an office you're working at or something. This one appointment on Saturday will earn you enough money that you can spend next week apartment hunting. I mean it, Viv. In seven days, you will be out of my office or all those dresses, all those shoes cluttering up my storage closet goes into a dumpster!"
"Not my shoes!" I was horrified. I realized that Marla meant every word.
So far, I had two clients scheduled. More would probably be added in the next seven days. But I needed cash in the bank now to go apartment hunting. If it took letting fifteen men fuck me to save my shoes...
"Okay, I'll be here Saturday," I glumly nodded, surrendering to my fate. Marla smiled. She'd won but wasn't going to gloat.
"By the way, Viv, have you ever been with a woman? Have you ever wondered..."
"What? I thought you said fifteen men!"
"Fifteen or so men and two more of my girls. I'd be astonished if the client doesn't want some girl-on-girl-on-girl action at some point to entertain his guests."
"I, ahh... I thought about it a couple of times while watching porn. What it would be like... Umm, there was this one girl in high school... She didn’t make it a secret that she liked other girls," I hesitantly admitted. "But no, I've never been with a girl, you know, that way."
"This client sends a lot of money my way. I don't like the idea of sending a virgin to his party on the hope you won't freeze up at an inappropriate time..." Marla said thoughtfully. Then she smiled as she picked up her phone. After scrolling the phone's contact list, she auto dialed a number.
"Sandra? I have a client for you. Tomorrow morning. 10am. Female. Two hours." Marla listened for a few moments then looked at me and smiled. "She's gorgeous and Sandra? She's a virgin. Do everything to make sure no part of her is virginal when she leaves… Yes, absolutely gorgeous and virginal... Calm down, Sandra... Thank you, Sandra. I'll text you the location later."
I was listening to Marla's side of the conversation and my mouth dropped open when I realized that she was scheduling me as a client!
"10am, tomorrow," Marla told me in her no-nonsense voice. "I'll text you the hotel and room number. I'll pay for Sandra and the room and deduct it from your future pay after you have an apartment. Congratulations, Ms. Olivia. You just booked your first call girl."
Dressed in the clothes I'd left my house in; I stopped at the Coffee Clutch on my way to the train stop. Coffee and a fruity pastry were just what I needed to calm my nerves. In less than 24-hours I'd have my first lesbian encounter. The very next day I'd be one of the guests of honor at a fifteen-man gangbang. Intellectually I'd known that these 'things' were what I might do someday. But there's a huge difference between thinking about 'someday' and knowing about 'tomorrow'...
Trying to maintain my side of conversation during dinner with Mom and Dad was difficult. In my room I watched a lot of lesbian porn. My first experience with another woman followed by my first gangbang. This weekend was shaping up to be... Exciting? Frightening? What word or phrase was I searching for?
I settled on: Unusual...
The hands holding my head between them tightened. Hips pushed upwards from the mattress, sliding the cock in my mouth deeper. Tim groaned and I felt the first pulse of his shaft against my tongue as hot cum splashed against the back on my mouth. I waited, motionless, letting hands pull my head down until there wasn't room for more cock. I tightened my lips around the shaft as the soft bulbous head turned into a hard pressure against the back of my mouth. Tim's groans changed to low moans. I waited patiently while Tim's cock pulsed on my tongue as streams of his cum filled my mouth.
This still surprised me when I thought about it. Me, the girl who two weeks ago had never tasted cum, who now swallowed multiple cum loads from strangers every week. I heard a soft, 'Fuck, that was good...' as Tim's hands released my head. I slid my lips slowly up the hard shaft to remain clamped around the tip. My hand moved, milking the last drops of cum into my mouth. I sucked hard on the tip before lifting my head to meet Tim's eyes, letting him watch my tongue play with his cum. With a finger, I pushed a cum drop that escaped back into my mouth.
The taste and texture were nothing like I'd imagined when I was a cum-virgin. It was too watery to be slimy; too thick to be watery. The taste was more like an aftertaste: slightly bitter, metallic and salty. I let Tim watch me play his cum around my mouth for several seconds before I swallowed.
"Mmm, yummy," I lied with a smile. Cum would never make it on my best tasting food list but I no longer hesitated when I swallowed now. I didn't move to cuddle. In the days since I'd become a Call Girl, I'd learned that men wouldn't kiss after I'd held their cum in my mouth. Instead, I moved off the bed and walked to the mini bar to mix more drinks. Two fingers of bourbon neat for Tim. I added ice and cola to mine. Tim sat up as I handed his drink to him. I made a show of swishing my drink in my mouth as if cleansing my teeth of any lingering cum.
After I sat, Tim leaned over, not to kiss me but to suck on my boobs. This was only our second time together, but I already sensed that he was a boob-man. He really loved fondling and sucking on my 34DDs. I surreptitiously looked at the clock on the night table beside the bed. I'd been here only 45 minutes. Tim had paid for two hours. He still had an hour and fifteen minutes of my time and body. I settled comfortably on the bed to let Tim have his fun time, taking turns sipping bourbon and sucking on my hard nipples.
Our first time together had been in his office. It had been my very first time with a client. Tim was rushed, caught between being horny and a scheduling crisis. In fifteen hurried minutes, I'd gone from being 'a good girl' to being a whore. Tim had been true to his pledge to request Marla to send me to him again. Today we were in a hotel and he wasn't rushed. Tim finished his drink quickly and walked over to refill his glasses. As he brought back the bottle, I saw his now soft cock peeking from his bush. I wondered if Tim would want more sex in the time remaining.
Instead of foreplay we talked. Or rather, Tim talked: a litany of his life's woes. A boring job and colleagues he hated. A marriage held together only by the gravity of his money that his wife spent as fast as he made it. A daughter in college; a C-minus student who changed her major every semester and only called to ask for more money.
"The only thing she's studying is how fast can she fuck every frat boy at her college," Tim slurred, refilling his glass again. His eyes had the slightly unfocused look of a brain beginning to run on alcohol instead of blood.
There was no more sex. Tim played with my tits and fingered my pussy. I tried, did what I could... I stroked and sucked his cock, but the flag remained stubbornly at half-mast. Tim was drunk and half-asleep even while I had his cock in my mouth. Time ran out and as I dressed beside the bed, Tim turned onto his side to watch.
"There's an envelope in my coat's pocket. It's for you."
"Thank you," I said as I slipped the envelope containing his 'gift' to me into my handbag. I pulled the covers up and tucked them around Tim's neck.
"No one has tucked me into bed for a very long time," he sighed and fell asleep.
**********
I stopped in mid-stride it as I walked towards the entrance to the subway. I swear it called me by name! It was in the window of a boutique I couldn't have afforded to enter two weeks ago. I thought of the two envelopes in my handbag and didn't think. The dress looked fantastic on me as I turned and posed in front of a mirror.
The thin, clingy material hugged every curve of my body. The low, strapless top was tight and tried to press my boobs flat. The result? The tops of my big boobs were squished out and up to new heights with the deep cleft of my cleavage prominently displayed. The dress was made for shorter girls. On my tall frame the fabric stopped just below where the swell of my ass began. Twisting my neck and back into a painful pretzel, I could see... My ass looks amazing! My mom would explode if she ever saw me wearing this in public. That only made me want it more. I paid and wore the dress out of the shop.
I walked for half-a-block when I saw them in the store window. High-heeled, open toed sandals that were perfect! for my new dress. I wore the shoes from the store. I no longer walked: I strutted. While I strutted, I got a text from Marla: Office ASAP.
Despite receiving 'gifts' from two clients today, I was almost broke again when I boarded the subway. Broke but from how men stared at me I looked like a million bucks.
**********
"What... The Hell... Are you wearing." Marla didn't sound happy.
"It's a new dress I just bought. You don't like it?"
"It fine for a party at night while you pose as arm-candy for a gay man who is still in the closet,' Marla replied in a dry voice. "It's completely inappropriate for the middle of the day. You look like a fucking prostitute!"
"Well, duh! I am a prostitute."
"But you don't need to look like one!" Marla's voice hardened and raised to levels I hadn't heard before.
"Go change and toss that thing in a shoe box until you're invited to a slut party," Marla ordered. Once I changed clothes Marla pointed at a chair and told me to sit.
"Viv, I've been patient, more than patient," Marla sighed, tapping a perfectly manicured fingernail on her desk. "Letting you fill my storage closet with your things. Letting you use my bathroom to change clothes and put on makeup. But my patience is at an end. You need to move out of my office soon! It's past time for you to have your own apartment."
"I know. I know, Marla. It's just... I can't seem to save enough money," I explained. Money seemed to flow through my fingers faster than cum through a client's dick. There was always clothes or another pair of shoes I just had to have!
"You don't have the money," Marla sounded astonished. "Viv, you're sitting on an ass that I charge clients a high price to use! A very high price."
Marla looked at me slouching in my chair and frowned.
"Speaking of sitting, young lady, posture is the first thing a client notices."
"I thought it was my big boobs men noticed first," I countered as I sat up with my back ramrod straight.
"Tits will get you only so far, Viv," Marla volleyed back. "My clients aren't paying me top dollar for common street whores! They expect poise and sophistication in addition to sex."
Marla waved a dismissive hand in my direction.
"If all a man wants is a cock sucking slut, he can drive to any corner on Fifth Street. If a man wants a young lady who enjoys oral sex, he comes to me. It's best you begin cultivating the finer attributes along with your oral skills. "
Lecture over, Marla got back to why she'd texted me.
"Viv, I've been patient. I've sent you to meet fifteen clients. Since I'm the one depositing money into your bank account, I know exactly how much you've earned. Not to mention the gifts... Really, Viv? Have you no self-control?"
Marla leaned back against her chair's back. (With perfect posture, of course!) Her manicured fingernail tapped faster on her desk.
"I've been patient, but patience runs out. So here's the deal..." Marla pointed a slim finger at me. "One week. You have seven days to move out of my office and into an apartment. Any box in my storage room past that date gets tossed. Any makeup cluttering my office bathroom gets shit canned. Viv, it's your money. I can't tell you how to spend it. But I strongly suggest you put together enough money to get an apartment before you buy more clothes and shoes!"
"I can't earn that much in a week and have time to look for an apartment!"
Marla tap, tap, tapped her desktop with a thoughtful look on her face
"I didn't consider you since you don't work on weekends but... To help you earn enough money quickly," she spoke slowly. "I have a client who wants three girls this Saturday. It's a bachelor party. A car will be outside my office at noon to pick you and the other girls up. The party will last until 4am Sunday morning. Needless to say, the fee you'll receive for a sixteen-hour party with fifteen or so men should be more than enough for you to rent any apartment you find next week."
"Fifteen men!" The thought of that many men fucking me was frightening. I began trying to weasel my way out of this 'party/orgy/gangbang'.
"But, Marla, it's the weekend. I can't tell Mom I'm working..."
"Don't even try, Viv," Marla cut me off. Her tone was iron; her slender finger was pointed at me for emphasis. "Tell your mom you're doing a sleepover with a girl you met at an office you're working at or something. This one appointment on Saturday will earn you enough money that you can spend next week apartment hunting. I mean it, Viv. In seven days, you will be out of my office or all those dresses, all those shoes cluttering up my storage closet goes into a dumpster!"
"Not my shoes!" I was horrified. I realized that Marla meant every word.
So far, I had two clients scheduled. More would probably be added in the next seven days. But I needed cash in the bank now to go apartment hunting. If it took letting fifteen men fuck me to save my shoes...
"Okay, I'll be here Saturday," I glumly nodded, surrendering to my fate. Marla smiled. She'd won but wasn't going to gloat.
"By the way, Viv, have you ever been with a woman? Have you ever wondered..."
"What? I thought you said fifteen men!"
"Fifteen or so men and two more of my girls. I'd be astonished if the client doesn't want some girl-on-girl-on-girl action at some point to entertain his guests."
"I, ahh... I thought about it a couple of times while watching porn. What it would be like... Umm, there was this one girl in high school... She didn’t make it a secret that she liked other girls," I hesitantly admitted. "But no, I've never been with a girl, you know, that way."
"This client sends a lot of money my way. I don't like the idea of sending a virgin to his party on the hope you won't freeze up at an inappropriate time..." Marla said thoughtfully. Then she smiled as she picked up her phone. After scrolling the phone's contact list, she auto dialed a number.
"Sandra? I have a client for you. Tomorrow morning. 10am. Female. Two hours." Marla listened for a few moments then looked at me and smiled. "She's gorgeous and Sandra? She's a virgin. Do everything to make sure no part of her is virginal when she leaves… Yes, absolutely gorgeous and virginal... Calm down, Sandra... Thank you, Sandra. I'll text you the location later."
I was listening to Marla's side of the conversation and my mouth dropped open when I realized that she was scheduling me as a client!
"10am, tomorrow," Marla told me in her no-nonsense voice. "I'll text you the hotel and room number. I'll pay for Sandra and the room and deduct it from your future pay after you have an apartment. Congratulations, Ms. Olivia. You just booked your first call girl."
Dressed in the clothes I'd left my house in; I stopped at the Coffee Clutch on my way to the train stop. Coffee and a fruity pastry were just what I needed to calm my nerves. In less than 24-hours I'd have my first lesbian encounter. The very next day I'd be one of the guests of honor at a fifteen-man gangbang. Intellectually I'd known that these 'things' were what I might do someday. But there's a huge difference between thinking about 'someday' and knowing about 'tomorrow'...
Trying to maintain my side of conversation during dinner with Mom and Dad was difficult. In my room I watched a lot of lesbian porn. My first experience with another woman followed by my first gangbang. This weekend was shaping up to be... Exciting? Frightening? What word or phrase was I searching for?
I settled on: Unusual...