(Confessions of an anal prostitute) CHAPTER 1. I finished school with a gold medal and entered the philological department, which I later had to leave. So how did I become a prostitute? In fact, since the very beginning of my sexual desire began to manifest itself, I thought up bright, often unusual fantasies. Then, more and more, these fantasies began to take shape around professional sex or prostitution. I do not know why, but I was terribly excited by the idea that you can make money on sex. For me, being a prostitute sounded much more tempting than being a banker or, for example, a deputy.

But let's face it for a moment. Is there a woman in the world who can argue that they have never thought about how you can earn money on customer service. For me personally, such thoughts have long become a fantasy number one. I can not even say how many times I jerked off at night, imagining myself a prostitute in dirty, depraved scenes.

But since I started attending an elective course on Internet literature, which was led by a great professor, these fantasies have become even more alive and bright. Professor Peskov, who became my curator, gave us the task to read several books with the memoirs of a fairly well-known pimp in the underworld who is Caucasian in origin. You may have heard of him and his books. These were stories from the life of a pimp and his prostitutes in Moscow, and these books simply eclipsed everything in my world. I just lost my sense of reality because of them.

I read them in bed at night in my dorm room, but only when there was no my roommate, so no one would disturb me. I sat down, leaning my back on the pillows and passing one hand between my legs to pull at the clitoris while I read about all kinds of adventures of the pimp and his whores in Moscow. These stories so excited me! I used to reread some paragraphs several times, until I finished describing some especially exciting scenes.

And while reading, I used to imagine myself in the role of one of the girls, mentally being transferred to the sex scenes described by this wonderful Caucasian pimp.

You know, I was born and raised in Ryazan, among typical Soviet families, where everyone on their minds only had that cleaning, washing, and grocery shopping. But while my friends at the institute dreamed of jumping out to marry a banker or a TV star to go together to the Mediterranean, I constantly fantasized, imagining myself a prostitute with my pimp living in a hotel room.

I liked these books so much that I decided to write a course paper for them. I called the work "Psychology of the relationship between the pimp and the prostitute in the novels ...". I received 5+ for my work and my curator said that he really liked it, so he asked me to go to his office to discuss my coursework again.

“You have a surprisingly mature analysis of the relationship between the characters, Barbara,” said my curator.

This is my real name - Barbara. But I ask everyone to call me Vary, especially since I started serving clients.

“Thank you, Anatoly Anatolyevich,” I replied.

“You penetrated very deeply into the thoughts of a typical prostitute, you understood what was really going on in her head,” he continued.

My professor was a very handsome man; he looked like he was about fifty, so I probably knew that he was married. However, this did not prevent me from slightly falling into it. Older men are sometimes so sexy!

“Surprisingly, it seems to me that I understand where the desire to sell my body comes from,” I said.

- Yes, according to the generally accepted opinion, prostitutes have always engaged in their profession solely out of need. As you know, necessity is the mother of invention. A woman becomes a prostitute because she has no other choice, and so on and so forth.Of course, in all this there is some truth ...

“But this does not explain the situation as a whole,” I interrupted.

- Absolutely does not explain.

“So, prostitutes, as you pointed out in your analysis of these books, go for it for a variety of reasons, both by necessity and by desire,” continued the professor, with a light note of pedantry.

- Whores, Anatoly Anatolyevich, and not prostitutes. The word "prostitute" sounds like something in a medical way. I like the word "whore" more.

- Okay, whores! - He said, emphasizing the last word.

We were silent for a long time and looked at each other.

“Varvara, I hope you do not consider him rude, but I wanted to ask ...” he began when I interrupted him again.

“Call me Varya,” I said.

I liked this name more, especially when I imagined myself as a prostitute.

“All right, Varya,” he continued. - I could not get rid of the feeling that you represented yourself in the place of prostitutes, and it was so authentic that I thought, have you already had experience in this area?

My professor had a very developed intuition, although he was mistaken about the fact that I already had experience in this field ... at least then. His guess, however, caused me a strange excitement.

- I know why you say so, Anatoly Anatolyevich. I understand that you could have such a feeling. Although in fact, I have absolutely no experience in this matter ...

There was a long silence again.

- At least for now.

I leaned forward and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Although I was thinking of gaining this experience.” Especially after reading the books you asked us.

The silence became tense. And then Professor Peskov did what I will remember all my life. He pulled out his wallet and gave me two hundred dollars.

“Then maybe you can start gaining this experience right now,” he said boldly.

“Perhaps,” I said, taking both bills from him, amazed at my composure and composure. Here are my fantasies about how to become a prostitute, began to become a reality. And now, for the first time in my life, I was offered money for sex. I had the opportunity to become the most real, real-life whore!

- Hmm! Just two hundred bucks, ”I said, turning the papers in my hands.

“Unfortunately, that's all I have,” he replied.

“I think you can think of something,” I said, getting up and walking to the door to throw a lock on the latch.

“For two hundred bucks, I can take it in my mouth, Professor of Sands,” I said, slightly caustically. - Will it suit you?

“It will suit me perfectly,” he said, grinning.

Although outwardly I seemed calm and balanced, now, when I suddenly realized that there was nowhere to retreat, my heart beat with the speed of a jackhammer.

I unbuttoned my blouse and bared my breasts.

“This is for your visual pleasure,” I said, showing him my full breasts and stretching my hand to the pants of his pants. I pulled them down and saw that he was still soft, so I jerked him a little to make him swell.

Then I knelt down, glanced at the professor's face, and wrapped my lips around his cock. I was already twenty years old, and I took more than one member in my mouth, but this was the first one that I sucked for money - for the real, convertible dollars!

Within a few seconds, the professorial penis began to completely firm in my mouth, and after a minute, his hard member began to pulsate and trickle, freeing himself from his load. I swallowed every last drop, lustfully licking my lips.

“It was easy money,” she said ...