I bought a burner phone and the next time he came in I gave him my number. “Let me know if you, you know, want to get together somewhere else.” A couple weeks later there was a text; his wife was away and could I come over. I dressed real sexy but wore a long overcoat so I wouldn’t be too obvious as I walked into his apartment building and up the stairs. A couple feet inside the door we started kissing passionately – we’d never really kissed at the club – and simultaneously undressed each other, leaving a pile of clothes right there.
He had his hand in my pussy and I was rubbing his cock as our four-legged monster waddled over to the sofa. He pushed me down on the seat and knelt. “I want to eat you.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea but i let him, and soon my orgasm came. I was getting crazy, i know, but I muttered, “You can fuck me bare this time,” and he did! I’d swear a whole lot more came out of him than in that condom, because when I traded places with him and knelt to give him a restoration BJ, a big glob ran down my leg. We fucked 3 times before I went home – the last time I needed help from KY – and he handed me $300 without my even having set a price.
We continued meeting in more private locations, and I will say, he knew how to please a girl. He always made sure I came.
Eventually, I admitted to myself that I was a whore, though I still considered this relationship more personal. The other big spenders were not personal at all, just business and always with condoms. And I guess that’s why I stopped working at the club after a year; it was harder and harder to respect myself. I kept seeing Pete for a few more months but wouldn’t accept money anymore. It all ended when I needed to transfer to a state school for money reasons. That was a good thing cause I met my future husband there, and there were things he didn’t need to know about me.
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