Life of a Prostitute: Her Pains & Pleasures

By Emma Jones

"Repeatedly, I swallowed as much of his cock as I could manage and it wasn't long before it became obvious that he was close to coming, at least judging by the expression on his face. So, with more than a little reluctance I let his erection slip out from between my lips.

"Shit, you know how to suck cock Sara!" James gasped, "any more of that and you would have had me coming."

I smiled coyly, flattered by the compliment, and knelt back watching as he finished undressing and retrieved the condom from the bedside table, ripping open the packet and rolling the sheath onto his spit smeared prick.

"Ride me. I want to watch you." he instructed as he lay back on the bed.

Eager to comply with his wishes I slipped off my damp panties and straddled him, reaching down to guide his swollen cockhead between my slick wet lips. Then holding my position above James's cock, I paused, biting my lower lip, looking down at him as I prepared to impale myself on another man's dick."

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Jones
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005481605

Emma Jones

I am a freelance erotic writer who loves writing stories under various genres of erotica

Book preview

Life of a Prostitute: Her Pains & Pleasures

By Emma Jones

Published by

Cougar Publications at Smashwords

[e-mail]

Copyright 2021 Cougar Publications

Distributed by Smashwords

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entire coincidental

Authors Note:

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are at least 18 years old or above. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1

It was just after 8 p.m. and had not long finished raining when we arrived at the run-down industrial estate that we had selected for me to spend an evening as a lady of the night. The bright overhead street lights were reflecting drearily off the puddles and blackened cobbles as we drove up, passing a few of the regular working girls already out plying their trade, and yet again I wondered how I found myself in this situation.

I suppose my story really began many months before. I had known when I married Liam, my husband of 5 years, that he had something of a fascination with the subject of prostitution. When I first became aware of his interest, I had been concerned that he harboured secret desires to have sex with other women but he always reassured me that his interest was more theoretical than practical. He knew every movie there was on the topic, anytime there was a documentary about it on television he insisted on watching it and he had numerous books and articles on the subject. His obsession also impacted on our sex life on more than one occasion especially when he wanted me to dress up as a working girl and role play for him. Initially, I baulked at this suggestion but over time I gave in and, I have to admit, found myself enjoying the little game we played.

As with all things our occasional distraction changed and developed over time, I would buy specific items to wear and surprise my husband, I tried to take on different personas when we played, sometimes being a high-class escort and other times a cheap street girl. But it was when Liam suggested that we went outdoors to enact our storyline that things really began to transform and my narrative truly started. Despite my uncertainty, and after quite a bit of persuasion, I agreed to my husband's suggestion and found myself dressing up on a Saturday evening to go out and let him pick me up on a street corner.

Just to set the picture I'm not an unattractive girl, although I am only 5' 3" tall, fairly slender with small breasts, I have a 34A-23-34 figure, and nice legs or so my husband says. My hair is straight, highlighted blonde, hanging down past my shoulders in addition to which I have blue eyes and a cute little nose. It was just after 9 o'clock when I came down from the bedroom dressed for my husband in a very short wraparound red plaid kilt which didn't even manage to cover the tops of the black stockings I was wearing. A little black crop top, high heeled ankle boots and a wrist full of bangles completed my outfit. I had left my hair down and applied my make-up quite heavily emphasising my blue eyes with long false lashes and rather a lot of mascara.

Liam did a little research and chose the location for playing out his fantasy, a rather run-down industrial estate about a half an hour's drive from our house that had a reputation as a bit of a red-light area. The site had fallen into dis-repair over the years with several of the units now unoccupied and boarded up while a lot of the others were only operating during the day between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. It was only around the entrance to the estate where the few remaining full-time businesses were located, near to the small café on the corner.

We pulled over, a short distance from the real working-girls, and I slipped out of our car to wait while my husband drove off around the block. The plan was simple, Liam would do a quick circuit and come back in a few minutes, pulling over to pick me up while I acted out the role of a cheap street prostitute.

I watched him drive away, the red lights disappearing around the corner leaving me alone on the darkened street, my stomach in knots as I waited nervously for him to return, knowing that to anyone seeing me there I was just another one of the girls looking for business. So, when I saw him turn the corner on his way back to me a few minutes later, I breathed a sigh of relief and prepared myself to play the role he wanted me to, as our car pulled in at the kerbside.

Hi honey, looking for a good time? I asked tartly, leaning in the open window and allowing my top to gape open, after strutting up to the vehicle.

Sure. How much? came back a reply. I looked up sharply, the voice alerting me to the fact that the person addressing me wasn't my husband.

Oh, I ... errr ... ummm ... n..n..no sorry! I stumbled back a few steps, panic stricken, almost falling over on my high heels.

Aww c'mon cutie, don't be like that. The driver called out to me.

I stepped back again, moving further away from the stranger, my heart pounding as I looked frantically around me to see our car parked at the corner, my husband obviously watching the scene unfolding. The driver of the strange car, obviously deciding I wasn't worth the effort, gave up and shouted an obscenity at me as he put his car into gear and drive away leaving Liam to pick me up. No sooner had he stopped alongside me than I had yanked the door open and almost leapt bodily into the passenger seat.

Oh my god. I thought he was you. I blurted out breathlessly, I asked him if he wanted a good time..

I saw you. God, it was such a turn on imagining, even just for a moment or two that you really were a prostitute. I was stunned, it turned out that my husband had witnessed the whole thing, finding the vision of me approaching a stranger, albeit mistakenly, and propositioning him incredibly arousing.

I sat in our car, part of me totally shocked by what he had just said to me but, much to my surprise, another side of me was excited by the thought of being viewed as a real working girl, not just by Liam but also by the stranger who had tried to pick me up. This revelation completely bemused me and I silently let myself absorb the feeling only partly listening as my husband continued to prattle on beside me about how thrilling the whole thing had been for him. Over the next few minutes I processed my reaction to everything that had happened, as he drove, talking incessantly beside me, telling me how much he had wanted me to get in the car, how aroused it had made him imagining me letting a complete stranger pay me for sex. The more I thought about it and what he was saying the more I realised just how stimulating the whole thing had been for me as well. I could feel the dampness between my legs as my heart thumped so hard against my rib's I was sure he would hear it.

Is that what you want? You really want me to prostitute myself? I finally spoke, turning to face him.

Liam stopped talking, staring silently ahead at the road, while I waited patiently for his answer.

Is that what you want? I'll do it if you really want me to. I continued after several moment's, breaking the awkward silence that had descended between us.

He didn't respond immediately, just pulled the car to the side of the road and parked before turning to look at me. For a few second's we simply stared at each other, me waiting for him to speak while he made up his mind what to say.

Yes. Yes, I want you to be a prostitute. To let a total stranger pick you up and pay you for sex. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally spoke.

I could tell from the tone of his voice he was worried about my reaction so I quickly repeated my acquiescence to his request, wanting to re-assure him that I wasn't about to divorce him. With some sort of basic agreement reached we continued our drive home in silence, the pair of us totally immersed with our own individual thoughts.

During the next few days, we discussed the experience over and over again, both of us agreeing to be honest with each other about our thoughts and feelings. It still took a little prompting but eventually I convinced Liam to open up completely and reveal his darkest desires to me. Most of what he told me I already knew, either because of things that he had said previously or because I had made an educated guess based on what he had revealed to me. However, what did surprise me was his confession that he had always wanted to be married to a 'working girl' ever since he had become fascinated by them.

I still had doubts about what I was agreeing to but despite this I knew it was something I had to do, not just for my husband but also for myself. The prospect of selling myself on a street corner had become something of an obsession with me, a fixation I couldn't get out of my mind and I told him so. With all of our secrets on the table we looked at each other expectantly, each of us waiting for the other to make the suggestion.

So, how are we going to make it happen? I eventually asked, saying what we were both thinking.

Are you sure you want to? he looked at me questioningly, You know there's no way we can go back if we do this..

I know. I nodded, quietly agreeing with my husband.

And what about after? again I got a searching look from him.

After? now it was my turn to look puzzled.

What if I want more. Want you to do it again? his probing suddenly became clear to me and I paused considering my answer.

I honestly don't know was all I could say, I guess it all depends on what happens and how I feel afterwards. I may hate myself or I might not. I really don't know..

And with that, for better or worse, our decision was made. Everything else just fell into place once we had agreed to go ahead; we would go back to the same place, my outfit would be the same, the only thing we really had to choose was the date, which was how I found myself sitting in our car on that Friday evening wondering yet again how I got into this situation.

I was jerked out of my reverie by the car stopping and Liam announcing we had arrived. He had pulled over into a side road, parking in the shadows, just opposite my 'pitch' on the main road in front of a small derelict factory unit.

You'll need these he handed me several small packets.

Condoms? stating the obvious I stared at the handful of foil wrapped prophylactics he had given me.

He grinned, Yeah, no self-respecting working-girl would go bareback.

How many .... You ... You don't expect me to use them all? I stumbled over my words.

Twelve and just use as many as you want came back the reply.

We hadn't really discussed the number of customers I might have during my time on the street and it came as something of a shock to be suddenly presented with the reality of it in the form of a dozen contraceptives. For a moment or two I sat staring forwards, out of the windscreen, contemplating what I was about to go and do then, my insides in knots, I climbed out and, nervously, crossed the street to take up my pitch for the evening.

Waiting at the road side I alternated between standing on the edge of the pavement and pacing back and forth for about twenty yards, my short skirt flicking up to reveal my stocking tops and the heels on my boots clicking loudly on the pavement and echoing in the quiet night air as I swayed along on my 3" heels. A few cars passed by me as I waited, most of them slowing as they went by, leaving my heart pounding and my stomach tight as I watched each one carefully, trying not to look obvious but knowing that my outfit made it totally apparent as to why I was there. One small black car went around the block a couple of times, the driver looking me over every time he drove by, before, on his third pass-by, he finally pulled in alongside me.