CHAPTER ONE
The Offer
It’s 1.45pm on a Wednesday, and I kissed Greg on the cheek. Greg has been coming to see me every second week for the last two months, and I didn’t mind at all, because he was maybe forty-ish, and he was tanned and fit. I had hoped that he would pound me aggressively, instead he humped me respectfully. He loved my body though, and he had given me a delightful 1.30pm orgasm, and yeah, I guess this is a bit weird (or perverted) but I always highlighted the At-Work orgasms in my diary. When I first started at the Gardens, I created a file on my laptop which was headed, My Diary, and I had been faithfully recording details of how many customers humped me each shift, and while keeping a diary could be seen as being unnecessary (and again, perverted) I wanted to have a permanent record of what happened during each shift. For an unstable nymphomaniac like me, prostitution is the best job in the world, and I enjoyed recording the details into my diary. When I was working at the Insurance company, I didn’t need to have a diary of my at-work experiences, because every notation would have been the same, for example; Caught the train and it was crowded (I didn’t get a seat again) … I clocked on … had a boring day … clocked off … went home … but now my working life was exciting, and I needed to share the excitement with my diary, for example; Thursday (night shift) … I had three fulls (and yes, fulls does mean one hour session) and two halfs … age range from late-twenties to over-sixties … an Asian guy named Sam was my favourite tonight, and I hope he comes back to see me again … a guy called Tom had a HUGE dick and he rammed me so hard that it felt like my pussy was paralysed, so I’m not sure I want to see him again …
As I became more experienced, my diary entries reflected my growing confidence, for example; Tuesday (day shift) … three fulls and three halfs … age range mid-thirties to over-sixties … HIGHLIGHTS; Phil came and saw me again, and that makes three times in the last month … a guy called Steve gave me a mind-blowing orgasm (ooooh, please come back and see me again Steve) … LOWLIGHTS; one anal, but it was quick …
I was obsessed with Evie who was one of our Superstar girls, and as my obsession grew, Evie began appearing in my diary; Friday (day shift) … four fulls and two halfs … I don’t think any client was under forty … LOWLIGHTS; Tom with the huge dick did me anally, and I think I’ll be having nightmares about it for weeks … a shy older guy named Chris didn’t blow, and that’s been my only failure so far. I told him to come back and see me and we’d try a few different things, and he’s booked in for the following fortnight … HIGHLIGHTS; Tom with the huge dick features in both the positive and negative sections, because before hurting me, he went down on me and gave me a brain-rattling orgasm … a very smart businessman named Matt has booked in to see me again … Evie was on with me today, and even though I didn’t see her all day, I did see her sensational bum when she was undressing …
The diary entry for the night in the Penthouse with Evie, Shana and Marlon took up two and a half pages, and occasionally I’d flick back and read the two and a half pages to rekindle the memories, although every time I did, it led to a very intense masturbation session.
I was getting a minimum seven At-Work orgasms a week, and by highlighting those orgasms in my diary, that helped me to understand which shifts were more Blow-friendly. Every week our lovely manager Stacey asked me, Rube, when are you available next week? I always said, Whenever Stace, which was stupid really, because that meant I could be given the shifts that nobody else wanted. If I was bolder, I could have said, According to my diary, Friday and Sunday day shifts, and Thursday night shifts appear to be the most Blow-Friendly shifts, so I would be most appreciative if I could have those three shifts on a permanent basis … but I wasn’t bold, and I wanted Stacey to know that I was flexible and I could work whenever she wanted me to. I knew that Stacey liked me, and she always slipped in a few Heavy Traffic shifts, so I never had any complaints about my roster. I was blowing out seven client-inspired orgasms a week, although the At-Work-Orgasms were becoming a little complicated, because while I was receiving a minimum seven customer produced orgasms a week, I’d recently discovered that it was exhilarating to masturbate in front of a client. About two months ago this new client who called himself Jim rode me respectfully and then shot his load. Jim was a very polite guy in his mid-twenties, and as he seemed a bit nervous and then rode me so respectfully, I assumed that it may have been the first time that he’d engaged with a prostitute. After twelve months of being a working girl, I was becoming adept at identifying first-timers because they were usually nervous or timid, and during the sexual action they treated you like a Princess. If first timers came back to see me, I would tell them, I like it when you ride me respectfully, but I would have no objections if you want to ramp it up a bit … After my first time with Jim, he said, So, tell me about yourself. I glanced at the clock and saw that there was almost twenty minutes left, and I didn’t want to bore him with details about myself, I mean I didn’t really have a social life, so if I was going to talk about myself honestly I would declare brightly, I love coming to work so that guys can fuck me! But that declaration might scare off the meek and timid guys, and if I said, Okay, so about me; I’m twenty-three and I’m a nymphomaniac … and again, would that admission scare off the first-timers, or would it have them coming back for more? I was too inexperienced to know, so I assumed that in this early stage of my career I should keep my sexual obsessiveness to myself. Jim had just humped me respectfully, so I was naked and horny, and instead of boring him with details about myself, I said, Hey, do you wanta watch me masturbate? He nodded vigorously, so I went to work on myself, and as I was building up, I said, You can play with my boobs, and if you want, you can also slip a finger inside me. Jim did play with my boobs, and he did slip a finger inside me, then he watched in awe as I blew out a mini-earthquake orgasm (and funnily enough, Jim has come back to see me every week since then.) So I am learning my craft, and this lesson taught me that instead of boring my clients by talking about myself, entertain them by playing with myself. And if that happens, everybody wins, because Jim was being entertained, and I was blowing out big ones. I wasn’t sure how to classify that orgasm though, because I was producing the orgasm, although I was producing the orgasm in front of a client who was also participating eagerly and enthusiastically, so I ended up recording this notation in the HIGHLIGHTS section of my diary; Jim, mid-twenties (and I suspect he was a First-Timer) he rode me respectfully and I had my first DIY-orgasm-with-client-participation.
Two weeks ago a new client asked for me, and when he introduced himself he said, My name is Grant … arhhh, I mean Scott, and I’m a friend of Jason’s … arhhh, I mean Jim’s. I now knew that Jim’s name was Jason, and Scott (Grant) muttered bashfully, Jason said … arhhh, I mean Jim said that you, ummm, you know, play with yourself … so after he had humped me respectfully, I invited him to suck on my boobs and slip a finger inside me, and as I was blowing, I thought, God, I love this job. Scott (Grant) came and saw me again last week, and he’s also booked in for the coming Saturday afternoon, and while it’s too early to call Scott (Grant) a regular, he is verballing opening up to me as I physically open up for him. He told me which football team he barracks for, and he said that he loves the Rolling Stones, and he also said that he was embarrassed about the tattoo on his right shoulder. The tattoo was a heart, and in the scroll under the heart, the name JENNY was in capital letters. He said he had been head-over-heels in love with Jenny, and his overwhelming love for her inspired him to get the tattoo. Unfortunately, the relationship crashed and burned when he found out that the love of his life was also fooling around with her boss, and now he hated the bitch. Most of my job is about offering my female bits for exploration and gratification, although occasionally I’m required to mete out a little therapy. I said to Scott (Grant), One day you night meet a nice girl called Jenny, and then the tattoo will become relevant again. And yes, granted, I wasn’t destined to become the world’s greatest psychologist, and I was never destined to win a Nobel Prize for solving the problems of the world, but if Scott (Grant) keeps coming back to see me, I see that as a win for me, because I loved it when he humped me, and I enjoyed it when he gave me some of his money. On a percentage basis of what I enjoyed the most, the sexual activity normally outranked the payment of money by about four-to-one (80/20) but when my rent was due, the payment of money became more significant, and it crept up twenty percentage points to 60/40. Seriously, I would do this job for free, although I’m not sure that my landlord would be happy about that. Besides, I had seen a leather mini skirt at my favourite clothes shop that was so Mini it would barely cover my panties, and I had seen a series of crotchless panties that I was keen to experiment with, so I always accepted the client’s money with gratitude, and as well, I felt like I was contributing to the country’s economy. I did Economics in my final two years at school (and God, it was Sooo boring, and my lack of enthusiasm for the subject meant that I got an ‘F’ in both years) but I did understand the basic principle of Economics; if every citizen works and they keep spending money, the economy will grow. My job revolved around making penis’s grow, and when they did grow, the owner of the penis would give me some of his money, and I would help the economy grow by buying crotchless panties and miniskirts (and yeah, boring I know, but I lived my life according to societies rules and guidelines, and that meant that I always paid my rent and bills on time). I was making so many penises’ grow that I found out to my delight that I was saving between seven hundred to nine hundred dollars every week, and when I looked at my blossoming bank account balance these days, I was always moved to gush, Dear God, if you are real, thank you for being so nice to me! Whenever I checked my account balance these days, I got so excited that … well, you can probably guess what happened next.
My current client Greg always gave me some of his money, and he didn’t have any tattoos featuring girl’s names, and he didn’t have a wedding ring, and even though he was chatty and conversational, I didn’t know much about him. After the sex, Greg would normally skim his hands over every inch of my body, and then he’d whisper, You really have got a superb body; your breasts are divine, your legs are great, and you’ve got one of the best butts I’ve ever seen … I loved hearing him talk about my body, I mean if he was one of those clients who talked about his wife or his kids or his job or his football team, I’d be thinking, Ho hum; how many minutes to go? But he talked about me, talked about the collection of limbs and accessories that he had respectfully explored. I’d never received a compliment from a guy until I started at the Gardens, but now the compliments were coming regularly; Gorgeous little boobs … fantastic legs … spanking butt. I guess if I had of spent my adult life walking around naked, guys would have been more motivated to speak to me, and if I was naked the guys could see all that I had to offer, and maybe the compliments would be the same; Gorgeous little boobs … fantastic legs … spanking butt … but as previously mentioned I am a law abiding citizen, and if the Governments stipulate that girls should wear clothes in public, I would keep buying clothes. Just thinking about that, if all women were allowed to walk around naked in public, would that affect the world economy? I mean think about it; guys spent their money on booze and sports tickets (and when guys forgot about significant anniversary dates or they cheated on their partners, they also helped the Florist’s stay in business) but women mainly spent their money on clothes. Would the world’s economy crash if all women were allowed to walk around naked? Women who lived in countries near the equator might be comfortable about that, but what about women who lived in the North and South Poles? I could just imagine Mrs Claus spluttering, Brrrr … it’s so freaking cold, so Santa, get me another bearskin coat, and make it snappy!
Admittedly, no customer ever said, Gee you’ve got a pretty face, although for a compliment-starved nympho like me, any compliment was gratefully received. Greg’s compliments were always the most flattering, so as well as making money and living my dream, my fragile self-esteem was also receiving a much-needed boost.
I slid off the bed, and expecting Greg to follow me, I headed for the shower, although he called out, “Ruby …”
I turned to him, and he said, “Before we shower, do you mind if I look at you for a minute?”
Anticipating that a new batch of compliments might be heading my way, I stood before him and said, “Sure.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and I watched his eyes wander in a slow and thorough examination, then he said admiringly, “You have got a sensational body.”
I smiled shyly and said, “Thank you kind sir, you’re making me feel good about myself.”
“Have you ever done any modelling?” he asked conversationally.
I wondered whether Greg was like me, and he needed glasses to see everything clearer; all the same, I said wryly, “Seriously Greg, I don’t think I’ve got a face that’s going to launch a thousand magazines.”
“You have a very young face, and you’ve got a sensational body.” he replied encouragingly.
“Well again, thank you for saying that, but no, I’ve never done any modelling.”
“Would you be interested in modelling?”
“Modelling for what?”
“I’m a photographer, and I have an erotic website, and every time I see you I just think, Wow, I’d love her to pose for me.”
Alarm bells were ringing, and red flags were popping up, yet I asked meekly, “Nude modelling?”
“Yeah, and I’d love you to pose for me.”
I wasn’t sure whether it was flattering or perverted. Should I feel pleased or offended? My impression of erotic websites was that the models needed to be gymnasts so that they could spread their legs open as wide as possible, like, Hey, look at me, I can curl one on my legs behind my head! I shrugged my shoulders and said quietly, “I’m not sure Greg, I mean I can be a bit shy sometimes.”
“Do you want to see my site?”
I glanced at the clock, and since we still had more than ten minutes left, I said, “Sure.”
He retrieved his phone and tapped and flicked, and I sat down next to him. “My site isn’t hardcore, I’m more interested in taking tasteful shots of beautiful young women.”
I tapped and flicked on his phone, and as I was doing it, I reflected that I was naked, and I was sitting next to a naked man as I looked at photos of naked women. His description of tasteful shots seemed accurate, because there weren’t any shots of spread legs or close-ups of open pussies, it was just nice-looking girls wandering around without their clothes on. Something occurred to me though, and I asked, “Do you come to see me because you like me, or do you see me because you’re trying to recruit me?”
“Put it this way, even if you don’t want to do it, I’ll still be booking in to see you in two weeks’ time.”
That was exactly what I wanted to hear, all the same, I said, “I’m not sure, but I might flick through your site during the week, and yeah, we can talk about it next time you come in.”
*
His site was called, JD Lang, Young and Free, and that night I tapped into the site, although the only thing available to me was pictures of the model’s faces and their profile. I skimmed through the subscription packages, and I saw that an introductory 30-day subscription was only $19.95, so I entered my details, and a moment later I was a subscriber to JD Lang, Young and Free. My best friend Marcie and me were annual subscribers to a few American and European porn sites, yet this was something different. On the American and European porn sites, it was all about people fucking, and me and Marcie were intrigued by watching real people fuck each other to entertain the voyeuristic masses (and yes, me and Marce were dedicated voyeurs.) One time Marcie said, I wish it was me getting fucked. Then she said, I wonder what I have to do? Do I place an add on their website, like, Hey, you can film me getting fucked, just provide the guy and my knickers will come down! I think she was joking, although sometimes with Marcie it’s hard to tell. But here I was now, a 30-day subscriber to a website that didn’t feature young women getting fucked, the models were simply wandering around naked. I didn’t subscribe so that I could perve on naked young women, I subscribed because I saw this as research. I had been offered an opportunity to become one of the Young and Free girls, and while I would love to be photographed in my birthday suit, I wasn’t sure that I’d be comfortable that any subscriber in the world could click onto naked photos of me whenever they liked. If a subscriber from America clicked on and said, Yeah, she’s tidy, great butt … I would be happy with that, or if a subscriber from England said, Ohhh, it’s cold outside, but this little chick is warming me up … I’d be happy with that as well, but if the subscribers from all the over the world were throwing compliments in my direction, I wouldn’t hear them. I loved it when I was standing naked in front of a client and the client threw compliments in my direction, because not only did it ramp up my already out-of-control horniness, it also stroked my fragile self-esteem. Recently this new client stared at me after I undressed, and then he started throwing the glowing compliments around, Gorgeous boobs, great legs, sensational butt, but to my dismay, he then said, I could sit here and look at you all day … and yes granted, my fragile self-esteem appreciated the comment, but my nymphomania was raging, and I wanted to say, Okay, enough with the compliments, and how about you get Touchy-Feeley with me? I love receiving compliments, although I love sex more. Maybe I should make a new rule, and if the customer feels inclined to compliment me, I could say, You can compliment me for two minutes, but the other fifty-eight minutes are Touchy-Feeley physical minutes, okay? Or if the booking was a half-hour, I would advise the client, You can rattle out the compliments for thirty seconds, no longer …
I was now a subscriber to JD Lang, so I flicked through the site, and while all the shots were tasteful, the words that sprung into my mind while I was looking at the models were exposure, embarrassment and caution. I’d never been shy about nudity, and when I was working I could get naked before you had time to blink; but most of my naked romps were in the company of a single customer who was going to give me some of his money, not a potential world-wide audience. Most of the models were young, and some were pretty, some were cute and there were a few that were plain like me, although all of them had slim and slender figures. Maybe he selected his models based on their shape rather than their face.
I closed my eyes as I tried to conjure up the image of me wandering around naked as a man aimed a camera at me. In reality, I’d love to have a permanent pictorial record of how I looked, because I assumed that at the age of twenty-three, I was in the best shape I would ever be. As the years whipped by, bits and pieces of my slender figure may start to sag or droop, or even worse, expand; so the positive was that I would have a permanent record of how I looked in my prime; although the negative was that strangers would be able to see the photos. I liked it when clients looked at me in all my naked glory, and I loved watching their eyes as they roved and examined, but that was a personal and intimate experience that we could both enjoy.
I tapped into my diary and recorded the day’s events, and I also wrote down that Greg had asked me to model for him. After that notation, I wrote in capitals, HEY JEMMA HOSKINS, HOW BOLD AND DARING ARE YOU?
I was becoming bolder and more daring at work, but my more adventurous nature at work was being driven by my ever-blossoming nymphomania. In reality, I was a Nobody, and my mother was a self-obsessed Twat, and my sister was a self-absorbed Bitch, yet I was fairly certain that my Twat-ish mother or my Bitchy sister would never have been offered the opportunity that I had been offered. I yearned to be a Nobody who had at least one feather in her cap, so intrigued by Greg’s offer, I stripped off and stood in front of my full-length mirror, and yeah, that gave me a buzz, because I was in good shape. I looked after myself by going to the gym twice a week, and I maintained a sensible and well-balanced diet, and because of that cellulite or stretch-marks never threatened me. I tried to imagine what guys would think as they looked at me naked; Wow, she’s in great shape, or maybe, Yeah, this chick looks after herself … or guys being guys, maybe they’d be thinking, Sure, I’d love to kiss her … or ram her, pump her, fuck her, hump her, stick my fat one in her mouth …
I needed more time to think about it, although one thing I didn’t need to think about was my next activity. I was naked, and my bare flesh yearned to be touched, so I lay on the couch, and after organising myself into Premium masturbation position, I closed my eyes, and then as my fingers began their invasive yet expectant journey, I saw my Smiley Face Orgasm daintily skipping through the tulips …
