How I came to know a prostitute

I'll start by describing the time when this happened. It was mid-May, everything had already turned green, and what I remember is that there was truly summer-like heat. Gradually, everyone started undressing, especially noticeable on the girls—light little dresses, short skirts, sheer tops in bright colors. In a word, everything pleases the eye, while you, a gloomy office worker, sit at a computer sweating in a stuffy room. I was on my lunch break, I took a glass of coffee and started browsing the vastness of the Internet, that's when the thought of a prostitute first visited me. Not to say I'm a hardcore nerd with glasses and sexual problems.

I'm a 25-year-old guy, dark hair,

tall, athletic build, which sports gave me—I go there three times a week for a couple of years. So I consider myself even very attractive and not fitting the description of office workers, but it so happened that I work in this stuffy barracks. Oh, the heat. How it's already gotten annoying, barely having begun. Oh, on the vastness of the Internet, I read news again about how our valiant police conducted a raid on prostitutes. Well, why do they do it so often, do they have a quota for inspections, or are our hookers just that dear to them? And then I thought, maybe there really is something about them that makes us men go to them. Or maybe among them, the prostitutes, there are good girls who ended up there by mistake. And then again I felt that fatigue had accumulated in me, and there hadn't been sex in a long time. What is this? So all these thoughts are just because I haven't had sex or interest recently? Or here's the mystery—why are men drawn to prostitutes, sex without obligations. Maybe it's all that simple! Okay, I push these thoughts away from me, lunch is over, time to work. Right now, a juicy girl, I would heat her up so much on this desk, but no, time to work. In these thoughts, the workday flew by, and I went home.

On the way home, the thought of prostitutes visited me again, then I clarified for myself that I wanted to understand the emotional side of a prostitute. That's where it all ended, barely having begun, but not until one fine day, or rather night, a couple of weeks later when June began. I had a dream, a very interesting one, where I was walking in a park and helped an unfamiliar girl with her heel. Her heel broke, as often happens at the wrong moment. I walked her home, she thanked me with passionate sex. Yes, exactly sex, because it's a dream, my dream. And I woke up because one circumstance confused me: why did she give herself to me? Just because I walked her home, but not so quickly into bed, or maybe she's a prostitute.

I know one thing: time to get up for work, I really don't want to. But what can you do. I went under a contrast shower, and again the thought: could such a girl be a prostitute? Could such a pure creature, like the gentle girl from the dream, be a prostitute? The thought overwhelmed me more and more when I arrived at work.

That's it, I'm getting distracted, otherwise I won't start delving into the numbers; I have an important day today, signing a contract and receiving vacation pay. Then I decided for myself: I'll go to the spot for the first time. The day flew by quickly; after getting my vacation pay, I rushed home. At home, after taking a shower, I weighed the pros and cons. And decided, come what may, I'll go once. Fortunately, the spot wasn't far, a couple of stops from me, on the outskirts of the city park. I don't know why, but dressing more respectably, I went to choose a prostitute. What am I doing, why do I need this? Maybe it's better to meet someone, after all, I'm not any worse at that. No, I decided for myself, today it must happen. I don't know why, but I was drawn there.

Having reached the place, discussing with the necessary person, the process of selection began, the butterflies, as they were affectionately called there. My eyes were presented with a row of eighteen girls. I'll say right away, they were all different. For myself, I immediately noted: this is not for me; most had no taste, just lust in their makeup, in their clothes. It felt like these were all the cream of our city—soured, though. This upset me terribly; I was about to leave when I heard swearing, an uncle with a butterfly who, as I understood, was late. After getting hit in the face, the girl, covering the spot with her hand, went straight deeper into the trees in the park; catching a glimpse of her facial features, I understood that this was what I was looking for. Having discussed the matter, I bought her for 2 hours, with an extension for the night if possible. And I went to her; this girl was beautiful; in the rays of the setting sun, I saw her face. Dark hair, a friendly face with big eyes, a small nose, and lips you couldn't tear your eyes away from. A skinny, tall girl, with second-size breasts, which were covered by a patterned top and a short denim skirt and familiar stiletto heels. Asking her name, we went to the car. Lisa was the name of my butterfly; she didn't really look like a prostitute. Perhaps because of my attitude towards her, I was so friendly and kind to her that a smile didn't leave her face, and her piercing gaze looked deep into me.

Unexpectedly asking me, when we had already arrived, why do you need me? I didn't give her a clear answer. In the apartment, I didn't lead her straight to the bedroom; we went to the kitchen to drink tea. I told her that I was just curious and that I couldn't get it out of my head that there could be such beautiful prostitutes as her. After listening to me, she smiled and said that she had only come for the second time, that due to money problems, her boyfriend forced her onto the panel.

I had wanted release for so long. After drinking all the sperm, licking my cock, wiping her lips, she smiled and said: did you like it? I did that for you with a special feeling, I never even did that for my boyfriend. Answering: very much, I retreated into myself, I felt so good.

Coming to my senses, she called me to the bedroom; putting her panties in my hands, I saw her going into the bedroom. Her ass was damn good. I followed her. Coming into the room, I saw her lying on the bed with her legs spread. I climbed on top of her and started kissing her, lips, neck, breasts, nipples; I went lower, with the thought of kissing her pussy. Descending lower to her pubic area, I saw this charm—a well-groomed young pussy with a thin trail of hair; I kissed it for the first time and started licking it, her clitoris, her little lips; her pussy was neat, not worn out as they say about prostitutes. And her hole was small and narrow, I understood that with my tongue. She was flowing, flowing strongly; she wanted me for real. I licked the heated entrance, then with a powerful movement entered her. I fucked her; I wanted her. Putting her legs on my shoulders, I accelerated my movements; she moaned, writhed beneath me, but at the same time caressed my body with her hands, my sides, a bit of my ass, as much as her hands allowed, lightly scratching with her nails. I tried to make her come first; I had a lot of strength. Turning her with her back to me, putting her on all fours, I entered her from behind. What a good ass she had; I took it with my hands, kneaded it, squeezed it. She squealed from these movements. Taking her by the hair, I thrust into her harder and harder; I started to feel that she was beginning to come; I accelerated and then I heard the coveted moans; she came and went limp. I continued to work; her hole was relaxed. I went in to the full depth and immediately started coming inside her. Afterward, lying together in bed, I asked her: did she like it? She answered yes. She took my hand and put it on her pussy and said that she only wants me like that. Hugging me, we fell asleep like that; covering the palm of her hole, I drifted into sleep, playing with her entrance to her ass. In the morning, waking up, I was alone; on the sheet lay a piece of paper with a phone number and a note: I'll come to you tonight. Don't miss me and an arrow. Next to the note lay her little panties. So my vacation began. But that's a completely different story.