I'm not a whore.
I'm not a whore.
I'm not a hooker.
I kept telling myself that, but the reality was, maybe I was in a way. I saw myself as more of a slut that dated, a lot. I liked sex and I liked to have a lot of variety. I'd had a few longer term relationships, but to that point, none of them had been willing to accept my more adventurous side. I lived alone, so I could come and go as I pleased without questions. The looks I got from the old neighbor lady when I got home in the morning after a night out was almost funny. I guess coming home at dawn in a micro-minidress and heels wasn't something she'd ever done, poor old lady. She saw me go to work in a far more respectable business suits and sensible shoes, so it was quite a shock to her I guess.
I tried not to mess around at work, so I dressed less provocatively, but still tried to put on a bit of a show for the bosses. I'd been approached several times and tried to be as discrete as possibly in accepting or rejecting. Sometimes a little after work delight happened. One of my longer term flings happened that way, but the guy got possessive. Luckily he got transferred overseas before it got to be a problem. No, I didn't have anything to do with that... or did I? Hmmm. Sometimes it's good to know who's cock to suck under their desk when you want something done.
When I got dressed to go out hunting, I dressed the part. Hair done wild, makeup exaggerated, too short, too tight dress, too high heels. Very rarely anything else. Watching me get in and out of a car must have been fun for some people based on the way I caught them looking. I tried to make it worth their while when I could, usually with a wide smile to let them know it was OK to stare at my legs or ass. At 5'- 9" or so and mostly legs with a classic dirty blonde mane, I could stop traffic rather easily when I wanted to.
I'd walk into a club and take a seat at the bar and it was never long before the seats on either side of me were taken. Sometimes they didn't last too long before they moved on. I could be kind of bitchy if the wrong one tried, but I could also be very warm and accommodating to the right guy, even if he wasn't really my type. I'd gone to a hotel with 'Mr. Almost, But Good Enough' more times than I could recall. I never charged or ask for money, but if they offered a couple of hundred bucks, I never turned them down. Like I said, I wasn't a whore, but I wasn't stupid either. If some guy wanted to pay me to fuck me, who was I to say no? I will say that the guys who paid got different treatment. A date got a date treatment. A paying customer got their money's worth.
There were a few hotels in the area that were more friendly to casual, hourly customers than others and once a guy flashed cash, I decided we were going to one of my favorites.
Bill was one big spender and his offer of $500 was going to get him a night he'd long remember. I'd met a few real, full time pros and had learned enough from them to apply it properly when called for. How did I learn you ask? Hmmmm, that's for another story someday, but let's just say 'hands on', and lips and a few other things.
Bill got an eyeful at the bar and knew there was nothing under my dress. While dancing close, he got a handful of my ass and breasts too. He also got all but a hand job too, but I stopped short. More for me than him as I was about to pull his cock out and go down on him right there in front of everybody.
I never got in a car with a guy, so he followed me to the hotel. My license plate wasn't registered to my home address, so no fears there. In the parking lot, we hugged, made out and felt each other up a bit, then headed in to get a room. The desk clerk recognized me and arranged for a cash only check in. With Bill's arm around my waist, we headed to the room, my heels making a wicked echo on the tile floor.
Less than a minute in the room, my dress was off, his pants were down and his cock was in my mouth. He assured me he could come again later and begged me to let him cum and swallow it. I believed him, but later found out I shouldn't have. He ate me for a while and got hard enough again to fuck me, but it wasn't what I expected. Heels almost always stayed on during this part. They loved seeing my legs straight up and my heels pointing at the ceiling as they drove into me. He got off in me, but it was a dry load that I couldn't feel like I usually did.
Less than an hour later, he was dressed and out the door, having dropped 5 $100 bills on my naked body. I guess I fell asleep like that and woke up later with them still laying there. I put one one each of my tits and took one and rubbed it over my pussy feeling kind of dirty for the first time since starting all this. I was beginning to question myself when I heard a faint knock on the hotel room door.
I grabbed a towel and went to the door. Opening it I saw one of the Room Service guys standing there nervously.
"Can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Ethan and I see you here quite a lot. I was wondering if we could talk."
"Talk about what?"
"Please, may I come in for a minute?"
"Sure, why not I guess." Clock said it was a little after midnight and the room was paid for until morning.
I stepped back inside and he closed the door behind us. I walked towards the bed and turned around to face him still holding the towel to cover my nakedness.
"So, what's on your mind... Ethan is it?"
"Y-y-yess" he stammered.
"What do you want to talk about then?"
"I know what you do when you're here."
Oh shit, here it comes.
"What do you mean Ethan?"
"Well you're always with a different man and they leave soon after."
"Is that a problem Ethan? Are you going to get me in trouble?"
"Oh no, I was just wondering...... if I could... maybe... hire you."
"Hire me Ethan? To do what?"
"T-t-t-o, to, you know... have sex." Poor guy was coming apart trying to ask this.
"Ethan, you're asking me to have sex with you for money?"
"Y-y-es, I guess."
"Do you know what that would make me Ethan? Do you think I have sex for money? Do you think I'm a prostitute?"
"N-n-no, I guess not, it's just that's you're here so often and all."
"Well, you're sort of right Ethan, men pay me a lot of money for what you're asking."
I dropped my towel and let him see me fully naked.
"Do you think you can afford this?" I asked as I posed a bit for him displaying myself. I pointed to the cash laying on the bed.
He literally couldn't answer. His eyes and mouth were open in shock. His pants were about to burst open too. I decided to torment the guy who looked to be in his twenties, maybe only a couple of years younger than me.
Stepping towards him, I took his hand and placed it on my naked breast. His breath was cut short and his hand was all but still.
"Go ahead Ethan, feel it. Squeeze it a bit. Does it feel nice in your hand?"
His hand fit nearly perfectly over my full, firm, but not large breast. 'Just the right handful size' I was often told. They stood out well from my lean frame and filled out my skintight dresses when I wanted them to. And to be honest, his hand felt wonderful for some reason.
"Y-y-yess ma'am."
"Ethan, your mother is Ma'am, your boss is Ma'am, your old school teacher is Ma'am. I'm Barb, OK? Do you like touching my breast?"
