I never wrote about him at the time so this isn’t a “hot off the press conference” moment. It’s a while back, a different me. A sluttier one.
He kept offering me money to see my boobs, the messages were abrupt and insistent but something intrigued me about the cash and the man behind the request.
So here I am, near a station and a car park waiting for a van. I have a photo of course but my heart is in my mouth with fear. I end up furiously vaping in a bus shelter as I try to work out where he is.
He collects me from there and my first thought is that he has a speech impediment, but quickly realise he isn’t English which makes sense with the awkward comms.
I get into the van and he hands me the keys as he wants to get a drink for me. We drive to a secluded spot on a trading estate by some railings. I climb into the back of the van.
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I’ve purposely worn a skirt for easy access and suspender tights which are a new addition to the sex wardrobe. A body which pops off if necessary. On the drive to the trading estate his hand has already found my aching wet pussy with his huge rough hands and he’s packing some in his jeans so we both play with each other on the drive.
I’d told him I wanted to be fucked in the van or outside. And I want to be paid. We’ve agreed £100. So as I climb into the back and sit on a toolbox I don’t really know what to expect. His dick is as hard and thick as I expected and it’s easily filling the back of my throat as we move to get the angle right. He ejaculates down my throat and cries out. We get back in the front of the van, and move on.
Surprisingly he wants to chat, he lights up a cigarette and asks if I’m on “adultwork”. I don’t really ask as I’m not that interested in him but he tells me about his job working for a fairly famous artist couple, which is wild.
We drive off again and search for an outdoor venue. It isn’t the best weather but we park and trek into a field with pylons. He roughly pulls up my skirt again and I bend over, he pushes into me with a condom over his dick. It’s hard to get purchase stood up and my feet feel wet. But I gaze across the cityscape and enjoy being used. he comes again and throws the condom on the ground which I tell him off about. He tells me he doesn’t enjoy outdoors and asks if next time I can host.
He drives me back to the station and I ask for the money, he pulls a wad of notes out of a wallet and hands it to me. I can’t really tell how much it is but I stuff it into my pocket.
The walk back to the tube is the opposite of a walk of shame : an itch scratched and a feeling of triumph and disgust at what I’ve just done.
The money burns a hole in my pocket and I pay for a winter coat part cash part card which feels like a fitting end. Literally wearing my smugness.
