The Working Girl Part One - Sex Stories

The Working Girl Part One

... to buy me dinner, Kevin Marsden enjoys taking me to new places, however, they're usually two or three cities away. "I do believe that would be perfect for..... say, Thursday night? Seven o'clock?" "You're on, and I do like my food spicy!" He promises me a treat for dinner and I'm off. Less than two hours later the new man e-mails me, he's using a very generic sounding name, but some do. Others trust me with their real names, knowing they can torpedo my college dreams as well as I can ruin them. Discretion, darling, it's worth it. He does sound pretty nice via e-mail, and describes a marriage that's all-too familiar to me. His wife just stopped caring. Maybe he got out of shape, maybe the change took her appetite for sex, who knows, but he wasn't happy. He described his ideal scenario as 'lots of kissing, caressing and a lot of foreplay" as he really enjoyed it. That sounded perfect for me, so we set it up. I asked for any personal requests, with a general description of myself, because some guys want me in black lingerie, some like white, one guy wanted me in jeans and my sorority sweatshirt, it's all up to them and I do try to accommodate them. They trust their friend's recommendation, because no one gets a picture of me, and their cell is confiscated upon arrival. He wanted lots of candles, soft music, and me dressed very ladylike in a full length outfit. My favorite way to go, he sounded like a real gentleman. I gave him my somewhat complicated ritual of knocking in code, ...

... and announcing himself, and entering my door at the correct time, and told him my address would be forthcoming an hour and a half before our meeting. Two weeks later, I've gotten showered and ready in one of my favorite outfits, it's an off-white silk outfit that looks like it might have been worn by Rita Hayworth or someone like that. Lots of lace, and just a hint of skin, the tease is so important in these scenarios. A dab or two of my favorite perfume, and I set Pandora to some smooth old school jazz. The candles are lit and I am ready, I recline on my bed and wait. One-two-three, one-two, one-two comes the knocks. "Yes?" I ask in a loud enough, but still ladylike voice. "Uh, it's..Martin." He's awkward with his assumed name, how sweet. "Do come in, I'm in the bedroom." The door opens and closes, and the footsteps come to my room, the lights are down, and the candles blaze. "Hello, Melissa, I'm Martin and I.....oh....MY....GOD." I look up and the man standing in my bedroom is none other than...my father. Oh shit. Oh shit. "What the....HELL are you doing? he asks, raising his voice with each syllable. "Me? What are YOU doing? Running around on Mom? What's going on?" He just stands still without moving a muscle. Then he seems to collapse and he shuffles over to my big chair and sits down heavily. "Well, I guess you can figure out things aren't so good at home, right?" he asks with a pained look. "Um, yeah, I got that all right." "But this? You're selling yourself? A hooker?" ...