Paying for sex

One Thursday night, Tim and I were home watching TV when one of my
girlfriends called. She had stopped for a drink after work and ran into
two of our old classmates from graduate school and she was calling to
invite me to join them for a drink and some gossip.
I was still dressed from work and hurriedly put my shoes back on and
checked my purse for cash. Of course, my liquid assets totalled $2.14! I
asked Tim for some cash rather than wasting time stopping at an automatic
teller.
Tim smiled and brought out his wallet.
“Wait a minute,” he smiled, holding his wallet above his head, away
from my open hand, “How badly do you need this cash?”
“Come on, Tim, I’m in a hurry.”
“I can see that, Jessica. Well, I’m in sort of a funny mood, and I’m
thinking maybe you could earn the cash.”
I smiled, because he is always THAT horny and THAT obvious. “Okay,
Dear. How about you give me the cash and I owe you a blow job?”
He leered at me, “How about cash on delivery?”
And that was the first time. All dressed up in heels and a business
suit, I dropped to my knees, opened his zipper and took his already-hard
cock into my mouth. To my surprise, I began feeling warm and tingly, even
slutty. Tim opened the top few buttons on my silk blouse and pushed the
folded bills into my bra, and I became even more aroused. I gobbled his
hard flesh into my mouth, licking and sucking loudly; feeling my own heat
and moistness increasing between my legs.
Timmy shot his cum into my mouth in a surprisingly short time and
leaned back into the sofa, “Ohhh, Jessie! That was great!”
I had thoroughly enjoyed the quickie, too, and got even hotter as he
handed me another ten dollar bill and said, “Here, you really earned a
tip.”
I took the ten and folded it with the two twenties he had pushed down
my bra, and rebuttoned my blouse.
Tim was zipping up and looked at me, “I think you really enjoyed being
a little whore, didn’t you?”
I smiled and brushed the accusation off. “I was just in a tight spot
for some cash, Dear. I was a poor, innocent, desperate soul and you were
the one that took advantage of my plight and forced me to perform that
disgusting and perverted act!” We both laughed and I kissed Tim goodnight
and left for the bar to meet my friends; but with second thoughts about
grabbing Timmy and dragging him up to bed.

Neither one of us said anything about that incident, but about two
weeks later, I told Tim I needed some cash for groceries and he asked if I
would be willing to earn it. I smiled and shrugged, “A girl has to eat.”
He took me into the bedroom and we balled each other’s brains out for two
hours. As I walked around the food store on wobbly legs, with four crisp
fifties in my pocket, I knew I was “hooked” on our little game.

Now, only a few months later, I have to “earn” every cent I spend,
whether for myself or the house — and I love it. The opposite is also
true — when Tim wants me, he has to pay for it. Nothing in life is free,
and I get to set my own price — a blow-job is at least $40 and I won’t
fuck for less than a $100.
Like any good businessperson, I know I can charge extra for the
popular options. A little friendly bondage is $40, a strip is priced like
the “Strip-O-Grams” in the area — $100 for the strip, and VERY good tips
for anything “extra,” and if he is short on cash — a hand job is $20 ($25
with oil or cream or jelly!). Cash only! No checks, credit cards or IOUs!

Tim is wonderful at thinking up variations on our lovemaking. One
evening, we got in the car after shopping in the mall and he said, “$100
for a blow-job, right here, right now, in public.” I smiled and put my
hand out for the money. In seconds, I had Tim’s seat back, his zipper
down, and his cock out. I started sucking him while bent over the console,
but soon knelt on my seat, knowing anyone who saw me would be certain of
what I was doing. I didn’t care — my panties were soaked through as Tim
shot his cum into my mouth.
Just the thought of me giving him a blow-job on a parking lot made me
feel more like a hooker than ever and I was about as hot as I had ever been
in my life. As soon as we walked into the house, I dragged Timmy down on
top of me and said, “Oh, Baby! That was so good! I need a fuck, right
now! A freebie!” Always the gentleman, Tim tipped me $20 when we were
through.

One warm Spring night, just as we were at the front door to leave to
get a quick supper at the local casual restaurant, Tim offered me $50 if I
didn’t wear any underwear under my top and short skirt. He handed me the
fifty as I handed him my bra and panties. I should have tried that before,
because before we arrived at the restaurant, Tim told me to finger my clit
and my fingers slipped around in my already dripping-wet cunt.
Tim saw how hot I was and told me that if I really wanted to earn my
money, to order the salad bar. I did, and every time I walked up to the
bar and bent over to reach something to put on my plate, I could feel my
denim skirt ride up the back of my thighs and felt my tits hang out away
from my chest, filling out my top. The kid keeping the salad bar stocked
really got an eyeful and I LOVED it! In the car I offered Tim a $25 refund
if he’d fuck me right there. He said he was tempted but that there were
too many people, including kids, so he fingered my cunt and pinched my
nipples to a tremendous orgasm for free.

Ever onward and upwards we went in our little “game.”
Sitting home one night, complaining about the lack of anything good on
TV, Timmy suggested I dress up in something sexy and go to a bar.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ll be there. I’ll be right behind you and I can `pick you up’
like a real hooker working the hotel crowd.”
I’m sure the big grin on my face told him I loved the idea, as I
rushed upstairs to change.
Less than an hour later, I strutted into a hotel lounge in my
shortest, tightest tube-dress and my highest highheels. Getting up onto a
barstool without flashing everything I had was a feat in itself!
Like bees to honey, I was soon approached by a parade of good-looking
unattached (at least for the night!) men, buying me drinks and dancing with
me. A few of them invited me to their place, or up to their room, some
even hinting about my “occupation,” saying things like they realized “time
was money in today’s world” and that was alright with them.
Tim eventually made his appearance, and when he did, it was after he
had had more than a few drinks. He stepped up to the bar and placed his
hand over my shoulder. In a voice loud enough to be heard several stools
on either side of us, he asked, “Say, Sweet-Stuff, I’ve been noticing you,
and I was wondering what a little action with you would cost.”
Aware of the audience, I whispered, “Two hundred, for the night.”
Louder than before, Tim gasped, “Two hunnert? Are you kidding? Plus
the room?”
I moved close to his ear and whispered, “Tim, if you don’t get me out
of here, right now, I’ll fuck you right here on this bar!”
Tim helped me off the stool, and took a parting shot at our interested
audience, “Lady, for this kind of money, you better be as good as you
look!”
I was pulling him through the lobby when he stopped me and pointed to
the bank of elevators. Dangling on his finger was a room key!
We hit the button and the doors opened. Tim pushed me into the corner
of the elevator and punched “7” for the floor. I pulled him against me and
kissed him, hard. I was hot, and wasn’t sure I could wait to get to the
room!
In a flash, Tim had his tongue buried down my throat and his hand up
under my dress and down my panties, fingering my hard, wet clit. A man
caught the doors before they closed, but we didn’t stop. Instead, I pulled
Tim closer and wrapped my leg around his. The other passenger “Harumphed”
but I didn’t care — it was all part of the scene we were playing. When
the doors opened at “7,” Tim and I disentangled ourselves and got off the
elevator. As the doors closed, I turned, smiled and said to the other
passenger, “Have a nice night — we’re going to!”
Tim opened the door to the room, and we tumbled onto the bed. Too hot
to undress, Tim unzipped his fly, pulled my skirt up to my hips, pulled the
elastic in my panties aside and entered me in one hard shove. I started
cumming, immediately.
We fucked and sucked almost all night. It was wonderful. And, I
never felt more like a whore than the next morning, as I walked through the
lobby in my tart dress, heels, and “just-fucked” look. Even a nun would
have had no doubts about what I had been doing all night!

I had been accumulating a tidy sum in my “Honey” jar, and decided to
splurge on myself, the way any self respecting hooker would — on clothes,
jewelry, and make-up. I spent the day buying the most outrageous items I
could find — micro skirts, seamed stockings, crotchless panties, red-red
lipstick, cut-out bras, and on and on. I had a ball!
After dinner that night, I decided to give a fashion show to Timmy,
and surprise him with my wildest “streetwalker” outfit. I put on heavy
make-up, red crotchless panties, a black corset top, stockings, garterbelt,
red heels and a red vinyl skirt not quite long enough to reach my stocking-
tops. For the crowning touch, I put on a wild, cheap blonde wig and spiked
the tresses.
Tim went absolutely crazy! Only, instead of throwing me down on the
floor, or chasing me up to the bedroom, he suggested we go for a ride!
The ride wasn’t very far — only downtown, stopping around the corner
from Calvert Street, a street notorious for cheap streetwalkers. By the
time Tim had pulled to the curb, I knew what he wanted me to do — and I
was game!
I got out of the car and Tim pulled around the corner. Then, after
making sure my seams were straight, I strutted around the corner and into
the glow of the street lamps. Tim was parked across the street, and I saw
two other women (dressed pretty much like I was!) standing about a half a
block up the street. There were no pedestrians, and the traffic was light,
but steady. I was breathing rapidly — partly from excitement, and not a
little from apprehension. I felt alone standing there.
I soon noticed the same red Firebird pass me, twice, and then for the
third time. On the fourth time, he stopped and leaned over the passenger
seat, “Hey, sexy lady! Looking for a ride somewhere?”
I stepped over to the car and bent over at the waist, giving the
driver a full view of my almost-naked tits, “Maybe. Where you headed?”
He had to pull his tongue back in, before he could answer. We chatted
a little, and I promised him I’d be around later, but was waiting for a
particular somebody at the moment. He waved and drove off.
After going through the same routine with 2 more drivers, Tim coasted
to a stop beside me.
“Want to party?”
I was glad it was him. My fear had gone away and the excitement had
taken over as the night went on. I gave him the same tit-shot I had given
the rest of the guys. “Maybe. Are you a party-er?”
He smiled at me, “I’m a very generous party-er.”
“How generous?” I asked.
“Well, if you’ll speak a little French — fifty.”
I opened the car door and got in, “French is my favorite language.”
Tim drove to a nearby city park and stopped the car on one of the
lanes. He pushed his seat back and opened his zipper.
I held my hand out — palm up, and he handed me a fifty. I folded it
and opened my purse. I dropped the money in and took out a condom I had
put in there before we left home. Tim raised an eyebrow.
“A girl can’t take chances out here,” I said, matter of factly. He
nodded and I wrapped his hard, little rascal in the rubber. He watched as
I popped the wad of chewing gum out of my mouth, and stored it in my
cleavage. I lowered my mouth down on his sheathed erection and had barely
gotten the rubber wet before Tim tensed in his seat and began filling the
condom with his cum. I could tell he had really gotten off on the whole
scene.
Still in character, I carefully removed the condom and tied it in a
neat knot and tossed it out the window. I smiled a lipstick-smeared smile
at him. “You were really hot. I enjoyed that. Now, could you take me
back to my corner?”
Just then, a police car’s blue flashing lights lit up the back window.

Caught!
I could tell from Tim’s posture, that he was as nervous as I was. Two
officers got out and one stepped up to the driver’s window and shined his
flashlight in at us. Fortunately, Timmy had already zipped up.
“What’s wrong, Officer?”
“Don’t play dumb. I hate it when people play dumb. What were you
doing here, discussing the savings and loan crisis?”
“Officer, my wife and I were…”
The cop roared out a huge laugh and looked in the window, again. His
light was shining on my bare thighs, above my stockings. I was afraid my
crotchless panties were showing him everything!
“Your WIFE??!! Yo, JD, he says this `lady’ is his wife!!!”
At their request, we got out of the car and produced enough ID to
prove that we were married and the cop did a cursory check in the car. The
other cop approached and walked around my side of the car. The freshly-
filled condom was revealed to his light and he nudged it with his shoe. He
stooped down to my eyelevel, and looked right into my eyes, “Do you prefer
the dry, ribbed or lubed, Honey?”
I looked right back at him and smiled, “Well, the lubed make a long
night a little easier, once you get used to the taste.”
I was standing with my back to Tim and the other policeman, and the
one standing in front of me, casually reached into my cleavage and
retrieved my chewing gum.
I smiled and lowered my mouth over his fingers, flicking the gum into
my mouth with my tongue. “Thanks, Officer, I thought I lost it.”
He licked his fingers slowly, and stared at my cleavage. “You know,
Miss, these streets can be dangerous. You never know who you’re gonna
meet. You should stick to indoors. If you’re new to town, there’s places
like `The Raven Pub’ in the Poe Hotel. You’re a little, uh, flashy for the
nice bars, but `The Raven’s’ seen your type there.”
“Gee, thanks for the career advice, Officer!” I smiled my widest smile
up at him. His nameplate read: J.D. MURPHY.
They finally decided to let us go, after everything checked out.
Officer J.D. Murphy smiled and said, “I’ll be looking for you, Miss Lube-
Tube. You can bet I’ll be keeping an eye out for you and your pimp-
husband.”
Being accosted by the policemen had rattled Timmy, but the action had
only taken me to another level in excitement. As Tim sped us home, I
inserted three fingers through the opening in my panties and deep into my
sopping wet pussy. I began a moaning, total orgasm after only a few flicks
of my thumb across my erect clit.
At home, Tim tried valiantly, but the policemen had taken the wind out
of his sails, and the starch out of his cock. He could only watch as I
pleasured myself with my vibrator, pushing it through my panties and up
inside of me. I fell asleep exhausted and with the vibrator still in my
hand.

Over the next few days, Tim regained his old enthusiasm, and at my
urging, we discussed other scenarios. My passion obviously increased as
the situation became more and more realistic; and, there definitely was a
little kink running around inside my brain that took me into uninhibited,
orgasmic pleasure — the more I behaved and was believed to be a whore, the
more intense the pleasure.
Talking about the various types of hookers, from the high-priced
callgirl to the cheapest streetwalker, we began to investigate alternatives
to what we had already tried.
The weekly, local, free paper was a good source of information,
judging by their “Personals” in the back of the paper. They advertised
everything from “escorts” to “strip-o-grams” to “trained masseuse” to,
simply, “young WF, seeking GENEROUS man for fun w/o commitment.” Another
avenue of investigation were the “date-line, `976-‘” numbers.
Tim asked me which one I wanted to try, and I smiled and told him “all
of them!”

Unfortunately, before we had a chance to live out any more of my
fantasies, Tim was selected to go on a West Coast tour with one of the
company Directors. The trip would be part fact-finding and part pep rally,
and Tim and I were both excited about what his being chosen would mean for
his career. On the downside, was the fact that Timmy would be away three
weeks. When I dropped him at the airport on Sunday, we knew we wouldn’t
see each other, again, until the third Saturday — by far, the longest we
had been separated since we had met.
By the second week, I was really missing the fun Timmy and I had been
having over the last several months. A few quick phonecalls during the day
sure wasn’t the same as having Tim there. Several nights, I even dressed
in parts of my costumes and played with my vibrator, but I missed my “John”
too much for it to be fun.
Finally, on the second Wednesday night, I put on my make-up a little
heavy, dressed in a tight denim skirt, red high heels and blouse and
stockings and went for a ride. I drove to a mall, but didn’t have the
nerve to get out of the car in such a suburban setting. So, I put the car
in gear and headed downtown. It was a warm night and I drove around the
Inner Harbor, looking at all the tourists. Feeling bored and lonely, I
decided to call it a night.
On the way home, I was stopped at a light and realized I was looking
right at the Poe Hotel! This was the place Officer Murphy told me the
hookers worked! On impulse, I pulled over to the curb and sat across the
street from the entrance. All types of people were going in and coming
out, dressed from jeans and t-shirts to three-piece suits and evening
dresses.
Not quite sure about what I wanted to do, I drove around the block and
found a parking place. I checked my make-up in the mirror and got out of
the car.
The entrance to the “Raven Pub” was off the lobby and I could hear the
music and talking and glasses clinking before I pulled open the door.