"I'm dwn stairs now blue civic w/ lites on. - C" was all the new text said, as I read it from my cell with trembling hands. 'This is getting out of hand', I thought, as I none-the-less began to slip on a pair of flats and prepared to leave my apartment. Taking a last glance around as I paused before walking out, I reminded myself that this was why I was meeting a guy I didn't know downstairs in his car outside my building.
I'd been laid off of my good paying salary job for almost a year now, and with my EI having run out, money had gotten very tight over the previous three months. Although I was able to pick up a couple shifts a week at a local greasy spoon, that income was barely enough to keep me in food and gas money, leaving my rent, and student loan payments up in the air. Already as I struggled to make rent each month, I found myself defaulting on loan payments, and getting nasty messages from the bank on my answering machine.
In order to make rent, I was lucky enough to cut a deal with my landlord. He was an older gentleman, in a loveless marriage with his wife of 25 years. Although he was getting up there in years, he still had a healthy sex drive, and apparently his wife was no longer as interested in physical intimacy as he was. One night, after a few glasses of wine, I called him up and made my offer to him, knowing from the fighting I had often heard from his apartment door that his wife and him were going through a rough patch. I offered to watch him masturbate, and even help out with my hands if he would knock some cash of my rent each month. We finally agreed on a $100 discount for every orgasm I helped to give him, and so each month I ended up owing only a couple hundred bucks in rent.
I began to enjoy helping my landlord out, watching as he stroked his smallish cock, wearing sexy outfits and talking dirty to him in my apartment while he pleasured himself in front of me. I did not need to lie when I told him how much I enjoyed seeing him stroke, as I had discovered a long time before with previous boyfriends that I loved watching them masturbate. As things progressed, I began to help him out, spitting on my hand and stroking him slowly when he got close, letting his cum spurt out all over my hand and arm. Once, in a fit of particular passion, his cum flew further than usual, splattering onto my heaving chest. I was so excited by this, that after he left I rubbed my own pussy raw, smelling his cum still on my cleavage.
Though my experiences with my landlord excited me, I never crossed the line to doing more with him physically. Though I was tempted, I never took his manhood into my mouth, giving him head like I used to give it to my boyfriends. Fellatio was by far my favourite sexual act, something I had learned at the young age of 16 with my first boyfriend. Ever since then, to the surprise of the guys I dated, I had been a voracious and insatiable cock sucker, though only when in a relationship. The fact that my landlord was so much older, and married, kept me from placing my lips around his cock, and tasting his cum, though seeing him cum so often had awoken in me a hunger for my old love. Having been single for several months, this meant I generally relieved myself alone, either in bed or watching porn.
This is where "C" came in. Knowing I was still not making ends meet, but merely treading water, I started to explore the possibility of supplementing my income by giving handjobs or blowjobs for money. To my surprise, finding guys who were interested was very difficult. Since I was totally unwilling to risk street walking or approaching guys in person for fear of prosecution, I generally tried to set something up online, through dating sites. Most guys lost interest immediately when I revealed my motives, and those that didn't generally either wanted a whole lot more than a blowjob, or made my skin crawl with their creepiness. After a few weeks of trying, I began to despair finding a normal guy who would want to pay me for a simple blowjob, with no other expectations.
While chatting on dating sites, I actually ended up making friends with a few guys who seemed honest, up front, and like all-round decent guys. In these cases I was actually too embarrassed to make my proposal, for fear of rejection. I was thus very pleasantly surprised, when after admitting to C that I was having financial difficulties, he made the offer himself to "help me out." Having exchanged pictures, I knew that C was, aside from being a gentleman in our conversations, an extremely hunky black man, with wide shoulders and a body to die for. In the course of our discussions, he had admitted to me that he was as into fellatio as I was, although I didn't let on to him how much I was into it. Knowing my dire financial straights, C offered to give me some cash in exchange for my "services." I had agreed, and given him my number, making plans to meet the next day.
Still unsure of this new situation, having never even had a one night stand before, I decided that I wasn't comfortable inviting C up to my place to do the deed, or with going back to his place, outside of my comfort zone. We settled on the parking lot in front of my building, which was fairly secluded, dark, and often deserted. Though C would then know what building I lived in, I felt safer that he would at least not know what apartment I was in.
My legs shook as I walked down the stairs, nervous for the act that would certainly be crossing a line I had never expected to in my life. Though I was afraid of the consequences of being caught in the act, the fact that prostitution was so taboo actually excited me as well, leaving my pussy wet and pulsing as I got closer to the front door. I shivered slightly as I felt the draft from the door, the cool night air giving me goose bumps up to my thighs. I had dressed for comfort, in a tight t-shirt and knee-length skirt, with a loose sweater on top, and flip flops on my feet. As I walked out into the parking lot, I immediately saw his car, and be-lined for it, hoping to warm up quickly.
C smiled as I reached for the door handle with a trembling hand. I opened the door slowly, and with great care not to bump my head, climbed into the passenger seat. Closing the door behind me, I finally glanced up at C, smiling nervously.
