The history of the escort profession

This story was told to me by an acquaintance. Every summer he goes on vacation to the Black Sea. Once, he was unlucky with tickets. No coupe, no reserved seat. He had to take an expensive soft-class carriage. For those who don't know, it's like a coupe but with only two seats, both lower berths. They are made like soft sofas. Minimal amenities, but the price is about twice that of a regular coupe seat. My buddy loaded into the carriage, arranged his things. Angry as a dog. Mood at zero. Suddenly the door softly opens and a rather attractive girl settles into the neighboring seat. Looks about 25. From under her translucent blouse, a very appetizing chest is visible. Legs slender. Waist in place.

In a mini skirt. Slightly tanned. Straight black hair right down to her butt.

— As soon as I saw her, all my anger at our railway vanished, — says my acquaintance.

He helped her arrange her things. They got talking. It turned out her name was Ira. Evening was approaching. They decided to have dinner together. He laid out various food. She had hers. I had a bottle of cognac. Offered it. Irka smiled and pulled out another one. When they got a bit tipsy, I up and ask, like, so who are you, where do you work, what do you do. And then she told me such a thing. I didn't believe it. And to this day I don't know whether to believe it or not? And my acquaintance told me the story of his chance acquaintance.

"I recall my past life with horror. I came to the capital with rosy hopes. To enter an institute. To work part-time in my future specialty during free time from studies. To find a nice guy. To arrange my personal life. Naive. I didn't realize then what a cruel force governs a big city. Everyone is for themselves. Everyone sees you only as a competitor. I failed the exams. Without a residence permit, no one would hire me. I was in despair. Ready for anything just not to return to my village.

Kind people were found. In quotes. They listened. Took me in. Brought me to a firm. A business people escort service. Essentially, an ordinary brothel. I remember my first client well. A fat, smelly, hairy Arab. After a night with him, I sat in the bath for half a day. I felt like I could never wash off the dirt. But you get used to everything. They paid decent money. I started imagining myself as an actress. As if I was starring in an erotic film. My task was to show the beauty of the relationship between a man and a woman. After all, nature intended sex to bring pleasure and joy to people. This helped me. I learned to get so into the role that men were ecstatic, thinking they had turned me on so much.

Fate smiled on me. Once, Sergei, one of the co-owners of the agency, offered me a chance to earn good money. Only everything had to remain strictly between me, Sergei, and the clients. I asked what needed to be done. It turned out, as always. I needed to sleep with a man. More precisely, with an 18-year-old young man. Mom and dad had started noticing their son's interest in the opposite sex. To avoid trouble, they decided to pay a tidy sum to a certain decent woman who, maintaining complete confidentiality and not intending to marry the guy, would make a real man out of him. I became that woman. And I liked it. They paid good money. And most importantly – I experienced an extraordinary feeling of superiority over a man.

Soon another similar order appeared. Then another. Sergei made a small mistake. He didn't see the potential of the future project. Usually, he introduced me to the employers, the parents, wealthy people with connections in society, took his cut of the money, and left. The rest we discussed face to face. Over time, as a middleman, he became unnecessary. I developed my own clientele. I adhered to the principle of strict confidentiality very strictly. This created a certain image for me.

I left the agency. Managed to buy a small apartment. By fulfilling three or four orders a year, I provided myself with everything necessary.

Usually my work looks something like this. I get up early. First thing, a contrast shower. It invigorates. Toning shampoo. Need to slightly change my appearance. Contact lenses that change eye color. Now I'm a brunette with blue eyes. Short skirt. Light blouse with a deep neckline. Shoes with medium heels. A final look in the mirror. Exactly the kind of woman Igor should like. He's my client. Only he doesn't know it yet. His ancestors ordered me for him. Today our acquaintance is to take place. I call a taxi. Go to a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city. It's prearranged that I am a new graduate student of Nikolai Sergeevich — Igor's dad and a professor at one of the capital's universities. I am supposed to, as if by chance, end up in the place where the head of the family's birthday is being celebrated today.

I enter the bar. Order a light cocktail. Look at my watch. I'm on time. In five or ten minutes everything should start. Aha, here they are. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Nikolai Sergeevich and a young guy with him. They are heading to the counter. Our eyes meet.

— Wow! Irochka! What a coincidence! — Nikolai Sergeevich unexpectedly exclaims.

— What a meeting! Hello, Nikolai Sergeevich! I agreed to meet a friend, but she's still not here, — I play along with him. Five minutes later all formalities are completed. I am introduced to the company and to Igor. Invited to the table. Blushing heavily and very embarrassed, Igor dances with me. We talk. It's very hard for him to pick topics for conversation. I play along. Igor is obsessed with computers. I toss questions precisely on this topic.

In the end, we agree to meet on Friday evening. Igor volunteered to help me set up my laptop. One small problem. The computer is at the dacha. We'll have to go out of town. Igorek agrees.

I drive up to the main entrance. Perched on the parapet, my new acquaintance is reading a book.

— Hi! – I shout to him.

— Hi, — he replies and immediately blushes.

— Get in. Let's go, — I command him.

We drive at high speed. The wind blows my hair. The skirt rides up, exposing my knees. I smile, adjust it, and do everything to interest Igorek. We chat about various topics. Marinated meat, fruit, champagne are hidden in the trunk. All paid for by dad.

We get to the dacha, again rented by Igor's father, quickly. He expresses a desire to immediately tackle the computer. I stop him. Rest first. Igor goes to prepare the shashlik. The dish doesn't tolerate female hands. I decide to change. I like an open swimsuit, a light transparent robe. The window to the room is a bit away from where Igor is working his magic. Nevertheless, if desired, you can see everything that's happening there. I deliberately drag out the process of changing clothes. I look in the mirror for a long time, admire my chest. Comb my hair. I notice that Igorek is watching me with interest. Eyes wide open. Face motionless. Lower jaw dropped. My god! I start feeling good. As if balm has spread through my body. Well, it's time to move to extraordinary measures. With a quick movement, I slip off my panties. I feel Igor's frightened gaze on my skin. He's a bit scared. I want to laugh. It's okay. Soon I'll make a real macho out of the guy. I put on the swimsuit, throw on the robe, and go out into the yard.

We rest for a long time, embracing. He passed the first lesson. Now he has gained confidence. But that's not enough. The next lesson is studying the female body. I suggest we go take a shower. Warm streams caress my skin. The shower stall is in the house. So I turn on the bright light. Now I'm visible in all details, even through the semi-transparent glass. He stands and watches, afraid to take a step.

— Come to me, bunny! – I call him tenderly. He steps under the water. I splash water in his face. From surprise, he squints under my cheerful laughter. This relieves the last tension. Igor embraces me and gently kisses my neck and lips. That's not what I need.

— Lather me, dear! – I ask tenderly, handing him the soap and sponge. He starts slowly. His hands slide over my shoulders, back, and chest, like the hands of a sculptor molding his masterpiece from a piece of lifeless clay. Gradually, he goes lower and lower. Now his hands are sliding over my thighs. The threshold of shyness is still strong in his consciousness. He doesn't dare to penetrate between my legs. I take his hand myself and guide it right between the folds. Why is the male mind directed only at 'harder and deeper'. Barely penetrating, he tries to shove his fingers as far as possible.

— No. No. Not deep. Better move in circles. Stroke the walls, — I ask him. At first, it's always ticklish. But when you overcome the threshold, the whole body seems to fill with soft, blissful energy, ready to lift you to the sky.

I enjoy these soft waves. I can't stop. However, it's time to move on. Gently, with my hand, I stop his movements.

— Wait, dear. I'll show you something, — I say and with my fingers slightly part the swollen lips. His gaze opens to a small pink bud. My clitoris. I run a finger around it.

— This is the most pleasant spot. But it's better with the tongue. With the hand, it might be unpleasant.

He hesitates a bit. Makes up his mind. Gets on his knees. Presses his lips to the clitoris and starts slowly sucking. Not bad for the first time. I beg him not to hurry, and I close my eyes. A little more. I'm in a sea of bliss. I delay the main moment as long as I can. And then an explosion. My body convulses. A shiver runs from head to toe. I'm in seventh heaven. I writhe and scream like a madwoman.

But I didn't expect this. My student takes the initiative. He stands up, turns me around, and bends me over. Inserts his cock between my legs. Well, buddy, you've worked hard. Get your share of pleasure. I only help choose the right direction for the cock.

He takes me from behind and takes me well. Apparently, he understood that there's no need to rush in this matter. Movements are slow and soft. He enjoys not just fucking me. He enjoys my body. His hands are not idle. They wander over my back, grope my breasts. His eyes devour me with his gaze. We move as one. But that's not all. I stop him.

— You know, I have another hole. Your handsome will feel good there.

He understood everything. The head of his cock pressed against my ass. I lift my hips and relax my anal muscles. Now he's inside.

My god! He catches on very quickly. With some sixth sense, he understood that it would be much more pleasant for me if my vagina wasn't left unattended either. Having me in the ass, he continued with his hand to caress my clitoris and labia. No woman can withstand that for long. I come. Violently and for a long time. Orgasms follow one after another. And the next moment, my partner comes too. His cock pulsates inside me, filling the entire backside with sticky juice. I turn to him. He's breathing heavily. An expression of happiness on his face. We embrace and kiss for a long time. Laughing, we finish the shower. On the soft bed, completely exhausted, we quickly fall asleep.

For the next week, we meet every day. Now my task is to arouse his imagination. We walk around the city a lot. And we have a lot of sex. On the stairwell, listening to every rustle. In the fitting room of a supermarket. In the dark hall of a cinema during a show. When there's no opportunity for normal intercourse, we use hands, lips, various objects. And sometimes we spend whole hours in bed, trying new and new positions. With all this, I try to show him that the main enemy of good sex is monotony and routine. Only something new and unusual can sustain love between a man and a woman. He understands this. Very soon, he himself starts suggesting trying something new. But... My mission is over.

I dial the number.

— Nikolai Sergeevich? It's Irina. Your Igor has completed the full Kama Sutra course with an excellent grade.

— Really! And he was such a modest one! — Satisfied exclamations are heard in the receiver.

— Yes. I think he's now a hundred percent man. But, Nikolai Sergeevich, you haven't forgotten our agreement?

— Oh, come on, Ira. In two hours everything will be done. But, you also finish the job.

— No problem. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Cyprus.

Two hours later, I approached an ATM. Inserted the card, entered the code. I love punctual and responsible people. The screen displayed a tidy sum in my account. I withdraw some money and smile to myself. A good vacation on a warm sea is guaranteed for me.

Much later, from acquaintances, I learned that Igor was told that I married a foreigner and went abroad. The guy, of course, didn't believe it and looked for me. And a month later, his parents introduced him to a girl named Katya. They are planning to get married, and Katerina already has a little belly showing. Well, I'm only happy for them. May they be happy."

Here the girl finishes her story. For a minute, she looks at my acquaintance and starts laughing merrily.

— You should close your mouth. Otherwise, drool will start dripping on the floor. And your fly is about to burst. My acquaintance became embarrassed. Indeed, he was quite aroused. Here Ira played along again.

— Actually, you're not a bad guy...

This served as a signal for action. My acquaintance didn't stand on ceremony. Bent the girl in half, pulled up her skirt, and drove his crankshaft in 'till it couldn't go any further. The sex was short and stormy. They came simultaneously. Then they kissed for a long time. This was the beginning of a wonderful vacation. They rented a room in a boarding house together. Fucked every day. Sometimes all night long. And where did they get the strength? Then my acquaintance left. Irina gave him her phone number. At first, she answered his calls. But one fine day, the mobile phone said: "The subscriber is not available." Since then, he hasn't been able to find the girl. All that remains is to wonder — did she tell the truth about herself or not? And actually, what difference does it make!!!