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© 2005 by the author, all rights reserved.
The whore with a heart of gold is a myth; it’s bullshit. I don’t have a heart of gold. The only thing that turns me on is cash.
I’ve worked at Sheri’s Ranch in Pahrump, one hour from downtown Vegas, for the last two years and have done about anything a whore can be asked to do. The church-going hypocrites in Las Vegas decided that what I do for a living is illegal there and banished whore houses to the outskirts. Churches squeeze people for money every Sunday and don’t give much back to the suckers. It’s a con game, like most games in Vegas. I don’t cheat *my* customers; they walk away satisfied.
The only things I refused were scat scenes and rim jobs. Scat jobs are too messy and I hate the smell. Too bad, because some guys pay a lot for the privilege of eating shit. My friend Jennifer, who works here at Sheri’s Ranch, does scat work because of the money; she’s a single mom with two teen-aged kids. Golden Showers are easy; the only preparation consists of drinking lots of water in advance, and the scenes are easy to do. Guys into that sort of action want to be pissed on by a woman, as they grovel at her feet. Nothing would amaze me after two years in the business, even wanting to eat shit and get pissed on.
Prostitution is regulated in Nevada. A whore has to be licensed, meaning she’s tested regularly for disease. Condoms are required for intercourse and for sucking cock. Dental dams are used for rimming assholes. A few gals accept rough work, like getting slapped around. But our boss and mother confessor, Eloise, discourages that sort of crap.
Most of the job involves straight sex, getting fucked by a customer. We often give young guys their first fuck, in a safe environment.
I’ve serviced women who want to try lesbian action. That’s fun to do, and the gals tip generously. One stockbroker from Chicago offered to fly me out to her place for a week, but I turned her down because she was the clingy type, not my cup of tea. Besides, bahis firmaları who would have fed my cat when I was away?
Eloise likes me and gives me as many high-paying jobs as possible. I had a threesome with a couple last month: husband, wife, and me. She wanted me to touch her all over, suck her tits, and then eat her pussy – while hubby fucked me in the ass. That was an expensive scene, the kind I need to pay for my apartment in an upscale building.
Whores who satisfy customers can make enough money to walk away in three or four years with a big wad of cash. That’s why so many women come to Vegas to be prostitutes. Some are even married or have advanced degrees.
My old boyfriend was a blackjack dealer at Caesar’s Palace. I caught the bastard cheating on me with a showgirl and threatened to cut off his balls. Whenever I get an itch for a friendly fuck, that’s easy to do. I’ve learned to separate my personal sex life from what I do for a living. Sounds weird, I know, but it’s true for most of the gals at Sheri’s. Last weekend, for example, I met this couple from Ohio who were sitting next to me at a Bingo game downtown and…I digress, that’s another story.
One day Eloise called me into her office and said, “I’ve got one of those guys for you who wants to get fucked in the ass – a virgin.”
“I suppose he’s ashamed about what he wants and has to go to a whorehouse, the usual story.”
“Yep,” Eloise said, “he’s afraid of being called a queer by his buddies, and afraid of turning off his girl friend. He’s getting married to a librarian next month and wants to be fucked by a woman beforehand. Will you take him?”
“Sure, can you get Cynthia to help me give him a real big experience? Can he afford a scene with the two of us?
“I think so. I’ll talk to him about a threesome.”
He agreed to pay for both of us – thought it was a great idea. Getting fucked by a woman is a real reversal of power; some guys get off on that.
When he showed up, we were ready for kaçak iddaa him, wearing Mistress outfits – latex and chains, and thigh-high boots. I wore black and Cynthia wore red. Might as well give him a good show, I figured. He told us to call him ‘Ken.’ I thought it a pity that the guy couldn’t ask his girlfriend for what he craved, but that sort of thing is all too common, and good for the brothel business. They can’t get what they really want from their wives or girlfriends, so they come to us.
I introduced myself as “Mistress Sharon” and Cynthia as “Mistress Cynthia”. “Hello there,” I said to him. “Eloise told me that you want to get fucked. Is that right?” He gulped and admitted it.
“Yeah…that’s what I want, Mistress Sharon.”
The guy was embarrassed as hell, red-faced and stammering. It looked like he was ready to bolt. “No problem,” I told him. “You’re going to have a great experience. But first you’ll have to give me the eight hundred bucks. It’s for me and Mistress Cynthia.” (I didn’t tell him the house took half.)
He handed over the money and then took his clothes off, looking apprehensive as hell about getting fucked – typical for a virgin. Some guys become addicted to getting it up the ass. Takes all kinds. You name it when it comes to sexual desires, we get all of them.
“Hey Ken,” I said, “relax and let me and Mistress Cynthia take good care of you.” At that point, I put a harness fitted with a flesh-colored strapon around my hips. He stared at the strapon and licked his lips nervously.
We positioned him on the bed, on all fours. Cynthia stood in front of Ken, stroking his head, neck, and chest – telling him how masculine he looked. I got behind him, with the strapon at just the right angle. After smearing his asshole with lube, I put on a rubber glove and pushed a finger into his ass, very slowly and gently at first. He tensed up, which I’d expected. “Relax,” I whispered. “You have to relax, honey. It won’t hurt if you relax.”
Cynthia reached underneath and kaçak bahis put her hand around his cock. She stroked his cock as I pushed my finger into his ass. She and I have worked together on this type of job before, and we’ve always managed to fuck a virgin in such a way that he’s really turned on and doesn’t feel like he’s being raped. I’m damn good at what I do, and proud of it.
When I felt his sphincter muscles relax, I withdrew my finger and smeared lube on the strapon. Then I worked it into his rectum. Every time his body tightened, I stopped pushing until he relaxed again. Finally, I had the strapon deep enough.
He grunted and groaned, as if it hurt. I could tell that he was getting into it, thrilled with a completely new sensation. I pushed as hard as I could, until my pubic bone was smacking against his ass on inward thrusts. Picking up speed, I gave him a hard fuck. Cynthia jacked him off at the same time.
He yelled, “Jesus Christ!”, and shot his load onto the bed. I pulled the strapon out of his ass and had him sit up on the edge of the bed. Cynthia wiped off his dick with a towel and slipped out of the room, her task finished.
“Ken, was that what you imagined?”
“Better! It was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced. You’re terrific, Mistress Sharon.”
As he dressed, I went to the bathroom to pee. He’d left by the time I got out. I went to the lounge area in front, where customers size up available whores, and forgot about Ken until two months later.
I was shopping in the Fashion Mall with Cynthia. She and I get our kicks that way, on days off.
“Look at that couple, in the Furniture Department,” Cynthia said.
I replied. “Isn’t that what’s his name, Ken?”
“Yeah, but notice who he’s with.”
“Holy shit! That’s Karen. She used to work at the Bunny Ranch. Ken said he was marrying a librarian.”
“She must’ve fucked lots of guys in the ass. Do you think she told him?”
“No way! Probably said she was willing to try something new and exciting, if he insisted.”
“They look happy together.”
“Yeah, ain’t love grand?”
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“Las Vegas Love Story” © 2005 by Lesly Sloan, all rights reserved.
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