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Blowjob

Within a week of starting my hooking gigs, a lot of guys at CCNY had my home phone number and I’d arrange many of my transactions through that medium. Sometimes I’d still do it the old-fashioned street prostitute way. I’d lounge around inside the Finley Student Center or just stand outside that building or maybe Wagner Wall, and invariably some dude would approach me.My first ever customer, that Greg with the big Ford, promised to get the word out about my services and he kept his promise. He had told his friends, who then told their friends, and so it went out along the horny college student grapevine. A girl with dark blonde hair and steel-rimmed glasses named Nora was turning tricks, mostly on the South Campus. I regretted giving Greg my full name, but I was still very naïve when I had met him.A bit after that, I was doing some of my tricks at my house in Maspeth, Queens. There were both advantages and advantages to doing things there. The place gave us some privacy, which was difficult to obtain at the college. The johns would come up to my room, or we would just do the act in the living room.The problem was that the house was owned by my uncle, and he lived there too. During the day, he’d be out at his job as a carpenter. But I also had classes to attend, and I only had one day plus an afternoon to be free to pursue my so-called profession. Sometimes I would just cut classes if I had a good deal coming up in Queens. Of course, with all of those distractions, I was attending fewer classes and my grades started to suffer.Also, Maspeth was a long way from the college, but a surprising number of guys would make the trek out there to see me. Some of them owned cars, but others would take the subway to Queens Plaza and then transfer to a bus.As I will mention elsewhere, most gigs were completed rapidly because of how fast young guys would come. A few thought that they could then get a free beer from the fridge and hand around the house and maybe listen to records for a while. Some of them probably imagined that, after having a brief, paid sex act with me, I was now their girlfriend or something. I forbade them from staying even an extra ten minutes. I would tell them to get out and go somewhere, anywhere else.  They could get in their car or wait for the bus or take a walk; I didn’t care. I just wanted them out the front door as soon as they got their pants up.I didn’t care if they protested about the about almanbahis of travel time that had been required. A hooker has to be very firm if she doesn’t want the customers to take advantage of her. Thus many of them traveled for an hour or more, one way, for about fifteen minutes of sex in total. Yet a few of them did come out there more than once. It was amazing how desperate some of those guys were for a bit of sexual action, no matter how degraded it was.Dominatrix gigs were one thing that worked best in Maspeth. Usually, those took a bit more time than ordinary tricks, and I had the room to set up the scene correctly. It was difficult to pull that off at the college, especially with the loud sound of male behinds being smacked. I’ll discuss more about dominatrix work later.One day in October, a guy approached me as I stood in front of Wagner. He had very little money to spend. For that amount, there was only one thing I would do: I’d be in some stage of undress and he could masturbate while looking at my tits or pussy. It was cheap because I didn’t have to be touched by him. It was like a peep show without the glass between us.He knew just the place to do this; he had the keys to a small room in Cohen Library, right up the road from Wagner. We agreed on how we would work it. I would bend over a desk, lift my skirt, and take my panties off. That way he could have a good view of my underside. He could then sit in on a chair and jerk off while staring at my womanly parts. I figured that I wouldn’t waste the time, so I got my sociology textbook out and read that while swaying my ass back and forth.It didn’t take him very long. He cried out, “Nora, you’re so beautiful; you’re making me come.” Then I heard a sound like raindrops hitting the pavement. I looked back, and he was putting out several impressive spurts that fell onto the floor.I was about to leave – I had my money and I had finished the job – when he caught his breath and said, “Please Nora, let me do some more things with you.”“Do you have more money? Because it’s strictly pay-to-play with me.”He had no more cash, so I put my panties back on and put the book back into my bag. I walked out while his cock was still hanging out and his semen covered the floor.******Another customer had a rather elaborate scenario for me. I was supposed to be a street whore, and he would drive up and engage me while I was standing on Convent Avenue in the evening.Usually, almanbahis yeni giriş I was reluctant to get into a man’s car; that first Greg client had parked his vehicle with the engine turned off. But this one was offering a significant amount of money, and he was also giving me more cash to buy some slutty clothes. From his point of view, he probably felt safer with me than with a real street prostitute. I took the job.The plan was that we would pick me up at a pre-arranged spot. Then we’d drive off and we’d play this John-whore game. He would take me someplace and I would give him a blowjob; then he would drive me back to the campus. He had a pretty roomy car too, a 1971 Chevelle sedan. On the appointed evening, I was wearing a tan raincoat to hide my costume, and I waited in the entrance of Wingate Hall. It was just getting dark when he drove up and lowered the passenger side window. “Hey honey, are you working tonight?” I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous line.I went to the passenger-side window and pretended to negotiate with him. “Yeah, I’m working. How much have you got to spend?” Actually, he had paid me in advance, which simplified things. I got in the back seat so I could tease him when I took my raincoat off. Everything underneath that garment was black. As we drove off, I removed my coat and revealed myself to himMy outfit was well-coordinated, a version of a dominatrix look, and I knew I could use it during future encounters. From top to bottom I had: a bustier (a sort of brassiere-blouse combination), elbow-high gloves, a micro-miniskirt, a tiny black thong, a garter, and straps to hold up my fishnet stockings. To finish it off, I was wearing knee-high leather boots.He was extremely impressed with my attire and he had a difficult time driving while trying to look back at me. “Come on, baby, sit up in the front with me.”“Oh, no, I’m going to flaunt myself to you first.” Actually, I had planned to stay back there until we reached wherever the blowjob location was. I knew if I sat in the front he would put his hands all over me. It may seem strange for a hooker, but I tried to minimize the amount of touching the customers did on my body. Yes, it felt creepy to have men pay to put their hands on me.I gave him a good show, however. I spread my legs and pulled my thong aside. Then I fondled my pussy as we drove along. I was giving myself some real pleasure rubbing the cloth of almanbahis giriş the glove on my clitoris.Our destination was not far away; it was under the Riverside Drive viaduct around 130th Street. He already had his cock out when I got in the front with him. I held him with my gloved-covered hand and I put my red-lipsticked mouth around him. As I expected, he came in about six or seven minutes. He had paid to ejaculate into my mouth. However, I had an improvised surprise for him. I leaned over, opened the door, and spit his semen into the street.He was shocked. “Why did you have to do that?”“Because, sweetie, that’s what street whores do.” I had read about such incidents somewhere, like maybe in The Village Voice or perhaps Screw Magazine. “I mean, you were done with your cum and so was I.”I thought he would argue about not getting his money’s worth, but he meekly accepted the situation. In return, I gave him a freebie on the return trip. I was in the back again, and I took off a glove and began a masturbation session that was more intense than the one on the outbound trip. It seemed that I could finger-fuck myself better than most of those inept guys could do it.When we were back on Convent Avenue, I hadn’t finished yet but I was very close. I didn’t have to fake anything as I cried out in my sexual release. He had been watching intently from his position behind the wheel. As I was catching my breath, he said, “How about watching me jerk-off now? I know I can put out another really big load for you.”I thought I had done enough, so I started putting my raincoat back on. “Baby, that was a free one. If you want me to do more – like watching you work on yourself – that will be an extra charge.”He did make one attempt at an argument. “Please, I know you’ll be impressed by how much I can shoot out.”“You think I haven’t seen lots of guys come before? I’m running a business here, not a charity for horny dudes.” With that, I pushed the door open and got out. I thought he might follow me, but I only heard the click of my boots on the sidewalk. When I turned the corner onto 141st Street, I felt safer. I was heading to Amsterdam Avenue to catch a cab. As I took my glasses out of my purse and put them on, a human thought came to me. Nora, you’ve only been at this for two months, and you’re already turning into a hardened, very cold strumpet-bitch.I couldn’t face the truth, so instead, I thought about the ample amount of money I had earned that night. It was already at home, hidden with my other cash in a chest of drawers in my room. As I mentioned before, my uncle eventually found it but he didn’t seize it. Instead, he made me open bank accounts.

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