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On one occasion while at university a few of us lassies were
wanting to go to see a top boy band that was going to play in the city. I
confess it was not my 'cup of tea' however, I did not want to miss out. Of
course, all being students money was short, and tickets were expensive.
I
had just turned twenty-one at the time.
Knowing
that I was a free spirit with the boys, one of my friends suggested that a
great way to pay for the tickets would be to charge guys to come and fuck me. I
initially laughed at the idea; Enjoying the company of lots of guys was one
thing, becoming a total whore and someone paying me for sex was another.
However, the idea kept being raised again and again as an exciting possibility.
To
cut quite a long story short, I eventually, cautiously and after a lot of
persuasion agreed. Within a few days, my friends had obtained a room at a male
student's rented house. The 'Fuckfest' as it was aptly named was to take place
one Saturday and would last the whole day allowing each guy a maximum of half
an hour with me.
Another
friend had the idea of selling timed tickets to stop queues forming. They had
stolen the idea from some stately home they had recently visited. When they
sold a ticket, they wrote on it the activity each male student wanted to
perform with me. Added to this was the time they were to arrive at the house.
The
result was that those taking part arrived at the house and were, more or less,
able to use me in whatever way they desired without having to wait. Despite
this arrangement, some still turned up offering to pay at the door.
I
had to wear just a bra and panties which were then removed by every student
arriving to have sex with me. Upon arrival, a friend showed each visitor to the
bedroom and announced to me what they had paid to do.
Pussy
fuck £5 (PUF)
Bum
Fuck £4 (BUF)
Blow
Job £4 (BOB)
5
Hard Arse Smacks £5 (HAS)
Anything
else Price on Request
I
was whored out all day from 10 am until 8 pm. Some of the guys were great and
very gentlemanly in their conduct, some were a little pushy, and at least a
couple were not too attractive. I serviced them all, even one guy who must have
been over twenty-two stone who I was sure would crush me to death. His cock was
hard and thick and stretched me open until I thought I would split.
The
girls received the cash; the lads enjoyed the sex, and I became a very sore
whore! A few weeks later, the results of the day materialized when we all saw
the band!
After
this day of action, I was pretty much continually pestered for sex, by some of
the guys who had paid to use me plus others who had heard about what had taken
place. At first, I refused, but after about a month, a handsome guy who had
fucked my pussy on that day asked if he could pay again to use my body. He was
too hot and his money too good to turn down.
Once
he had had his fill, or more correctly, I had been filled by him, I received
requests on an almost daily basis for sex. These invitations came in various
ways. To me directly, to my closest friends or sometimes written and pushed
under my door in the halls of residence. They asked for differing forms of sex
and a variety of other sexual related practices. I even had several letters
posted to me asking me if I would attend all-night parties and get paid to be
the sexual entertainment!
To
some, I agreed, and for a while, it seemed, to me at least, that I was visiting
some student's accommodation almost nightly. I loved learning to please people
at these meetings.
One
one of these occasions I was asked how much I would charge to allow them to
flush my head down the toilet. I replied £8 because there were four of them!
That resulted in HIT (Head in Toilet) added to my list.
Several
times before sex, enquiries were made as to how much extra it would be to allow
a personal examination of my naked body. I have learnt through the years that
this is a prevalent desire of the male species. Quite often, a speculum was
used to open me up to gain a better and more intimate look inside me.
Therefore, FIE (Full Internal Examination) also appeared on my list along with,
BOR (Bound on Request) and WAO (Whipped All Over). I had never thought of
abbreviations before but now tried to think one up for each new request I was
asked to perform.
Some
students knew that I enjoyed group sex and asked if I would have a weekend with
them SAW (Sex Away Weekend) for which I received £50 a time to be fucked hard
all weekend by between 5 and 10 guys.
It
was at one of these that I suggested an iced bath. Cold water has always made
my nipples stand out hard and erect. I knew that the inconvenience and cold
that I experienced would be worth it, seeing the reaction of those with me when
it happened.
The
first time we tried it, there were almost instant erections all around even
from those who, just a few minutes before, had dumped their cum into me! As a
result, FIB (Freezing Iced Bath) was formed. This was immensely popular as guys
loved stripping me and binding me before putting me into an empty bath and
turning on the cold tap. Adding ice and watching me shiver was an added
attraction! It seemed to turn them on big time.
On
one occasion, when I had agreed to a whipping, I was asked how much I would
charge to allow my tits and pussy to be whipped too. I have discovered that
such actions are trendy and exceedingly good at getting sagging cocks rock hard
again. A price was agreed for two strokes of the leather tip of a riding crop
on each nipple and four strokes of a soft belt over my pussy while having my
legs held apart. I realised that I had undersold these two activities and so
WOT (Whipping Of Tits) and WOP (Whipping Of Pussy) were at the more expensive
end of my paid to play events.
Just
after my twenty-first birthday one guy took me aside and suggested I made some
real money in a local club and handed me an advert he had picked up. 'Pretty
young women wanted to audition for a part-time post in a local club --
excellent rates of pay. Phone...'
I
had four good friends, and we all decided to give it a go and see what
happened. We were so naïve at the time that it never entered our heads what
sort of club it might be. We thought it would be waitressing or something like
cleaning. One of us phoned the number, and we were all asked for an interview.
Where
we ever surprised when we got there to discover it was a strip club and they
were looking for new performers! Two of my friends immediately dropped out at
this news however Gemma and I decided we'd see how the interview went just for
the fun of it.
There
were two men and a woman who greeted us very civilly and once they realised we
were friends were happy to interview Gemma and me together. I did think that if
they were to choose one of us, it would be Gemma. She was fuller in the body
than I and boasted a C cup. My breasts just about managed an A cup and
therefore, in my mind not likely to be so exciting to possible clients.
Gemma
was also a beautiful woman with lovely curly black hair and a delicately boned
face. I knew if they wanted a stripper to have the WOW factor, it would be
Gemma.
The
questions at the interview were mostly about our courses and lectures at
University. We were grilled about possible boyfriends and what sex life we had.
After
the questioning was over we were asked to strip naked. I was expecting this
invitation, it was obvious really, but it still came as a bit of a shock when
they put the question to us. We both obediently obeyed and stood there like a
pair of lemons in front of the interview panel.
All
three were rather deadpan at our appearance naked in front of them. We told to
twirl around, bend over, shake our bums and bounce our tits before being
invited to sit down without a stitch of clothing covering our naked bodies.
More
questions followed, such as how we would feel about men ogling at us during the
performance. We were also asked how we would react if university lecturers or
fellow students were also in the crowd and would see us in the week during
lectures. Neither of us had thought of that before as it was only forty-five
minutes prior that we had discovered we were applying to be amateur strippers.
We
were also informed that 'extra' money could be easily made by providing sexual
favours for some of the clientele after the show and that suitable rooms were
available for such fun and games.
"Would
that not make us little more than simple prostitutes?" Gemma asked a
little taken aback.
"Not
at all," we were informed, "A Prostitute goes looking for sex;
however, your natural charm and beauty would bring the guys looking for
you!"
Neither
of us was sure how correct that definition was; however, we decided to let the
subject drop at least during the interview.
We
were told the rates of pay (which were beyond our wildest dreams) and informed
that we could make up our routines if we were successful in getting the job.
The
interview ended, and we dressed still carefully scrutinised by the three-person
panel. We were told that we would hear one way or another in a few days.
We
both left in uproarious laughter as we considered how mad, bold, or stupid we
had been to follow through an interview for such work. Imagine therefore our
shock, surprise and great embarrassment when a couple of days later we were
contacted to be told that we had got the jobs. We were told to start straight
away.
Neither
Gemma or myself could really believe that we had managed to impress the
interview panel enough to hire us. It was surreal and we had real doubts as to
both our ability to carry out such work and the fear of being discovered!
It
was arranged that we go that night in order to meet one of the men who
interviewed us who, we discovered later, was the owner and was called Brian. He
was very welcoming and showed us around the empty building, explaining what was
what and where was where.
We
were shown what he called to 'Intimate Rooms' where we could go privately if we
fancied anyone and in doing so could top up what he was paying us to perform.
Neither
Gemma or I ever thought that we would use these facilities at the time. We were
also showed a much larger room that had quite a bit of mostly crude and
homemade bondage equipment.
"This,"
Brian said with a smile, "Is where naughty girls are corrected!"
I
confess to a wee shudder of expectation for that room if things worked out.
After
completing the tour Brian asked,, "How about starting tomorrow at 8
pm?"
Both
Gemma and I looked at each other a little doubtful. We had not expected to be
performing so soon. Suddenly it hit us just what we agreed to do. To be paid to
take our clothes off for the pleasure of others! It was a bit of a shocking
moment--a sudden coming back to the reality of the situation. Tomorrow we would
be naked to the gaze of maybe fifty to one hundred men! It was rather a
subduing and nerve-racking thought!
As
agreed, we turned up the next day without even considering what we would wear
to perform in. We both stupidly wore jeans and T-shirts with jumpers under our
coats. Brian's wife, who we found out was the female interviewer, looked rather
curiously at us and asked if we intended to perform in THOSE clothes.
She
then went on to explain that skirts were much better than trousers as they
could be lifted, flounced and then quickly removed, whereas trousers were
cumbersome to take off while trying to maintain an aurora of sexuality.
She
also advised that blouses or button-up tops were better than T-shirts as the
buttons were easy to undo one by one, and the item slipped on and off the
shoulders in a teasing and provocative manner. A T-shirt did not have so many
variations, just up, over and off.
I
felt rather stupid at being told such basic things; however, I had never
required to think about them before. As both Gemma and myself were only
twenty-one and about to perform in a strip club for the first time, it was not
surprising that we had failed to consider the attire we would wear.
That
night I remember just how incredibly nervous we both were. We were trembling as
we waited for the events to begin and even when we talked, it seemed that our
speech was somewhat shaky!
Brian
appeared just as we were about to step out onto the stage, "Don't try and
do too much tonight," he advised kindly, "I suggest, as it's your
first time, you leave your panties on and flash your boobs. Rachel, don't be
alarmed if guys laugh at you because of your.. er.." His voice died away
as he sought the right words to describe my wholly inadequate bosom.
"Because
I'm titless?" I added, trying to be helpful.
He
smiled, "Don't worry; your personality will win them over!"
With
that, I could hear our names announced. I went alternately hot and cold as I am
sure Gemma did too, and I noticed my hands were trembling.
I
remember thinking, 'I hope that I can undo my trouser button without fumbling
it!'
Gemma
was to follow me, so I wanted to try and give her a good lead-in and not mess
up my little show.
I
stepped out onto a low stage about one foot high and about twelve to fifteen
feet long backdropped by a large and slightly faded blue curtain. No music
played, as we had not requested any. We had not thought in any way of dancing
while removing our clothes.
I
gave a little shimmy as I lifted my T-shirt to expose my bra. There were a
couple of Ohs and Ah's. I tried to smile at the audience sitting in front of
me. All I could see, however, were shadowy figures due to the bright glare of
two lights that shone down from a gantry on the ceiling.
I
lifted my T-shirt entirely off and threw it almost carelessly to one side. I
had been on stage perhaps less than a minute. I had decided to undress down to
my underwear before the grand unveiling of any flesh.
I
turned my back on the many watching eyes and to my great relief managed to undo
the button on my jeans despite my still trembling hands. I immediately
commenced to pull them down to expose my white panties covering my bottom.
As
soon as I had allowed a sight of around four inches, I teasingly pulled them up
again and turned round to face the people. It was then that I discovered why
you should never wear jeans while trying to strip in public.
I
pulled them down past my hips and immediately realised that whatever I did next
would be very ungainly as I bent down, seeking to take them lower to my knees.
The lowering of my jeans hampered the movement of my feet, and I felt a sudden
fear of falling over.
I
could hear little titters of laughter as I sought to extricate myself from such
a problematic situation. At last, I managed to work one foot free and tried to
shake the other trouser leg off my left foot, but it seemed that it wanted to
remain firmly in place. I could feel myself going bright red with embarrassment
until I eventually bent right down and almost hopping on one foot got my jeans
off, leaving just my underwear in place.
All
I wanted to do was get finished and out of the lights. The whole thing had
become, in my eyes at least, a catastrophe! I could not understand why I had
not thought more seriously about what attire I would wear for such an occasion.
I knew that I was going to make an exhibition of myself anyway by stripping
naked but to do it in this highly embarrassing way was a bit dumb, to say the
least.
I
knew things could get no worse so decided to go for the 'coup-de-grace' and
whip off my bra giving everyone a good look at my small breasts. I intended to
swirl the bra around my fingers like an aircraft propeller. In what I thought
was a smart move, I undid and took off my bra, smiling broadly as I did so. I
then commenced turning right around while continuing to twirl my bra
enthusiastically.
I
had often done this in mock fun before a mirror without any problems. The bra,
on this occasion, took on a mind of its own. It flew off my fingers, and away
from the stage. I froze as yet another calamity seemed to befall my first act
as an amateur stripper. To laughter, I jumped off the stage, picked up the
errant item and dashed to the safety of the small corridor at the side of the
stage. Here I found Gemma her eyes wet with tears of laughter, having witnessed
my unorthodox performance.
"Thank
you," she said as she passed to go onto the stage, "I'm not nervous
anymore!"
I
sat in a chair red with embarrassment and determined never to do such a stupid
thing again, no matter how much someone might pay me. My only day as a stripper
was over.
I
looked on with a degree of envy as Gemma managed to succeed with great aplomb
where I had so miserably failed. I did have a wry smile to myself as even she
struggled in the removal of her jeans.
Once
we had both settled down from our first daring escapade at the club, Brian
informed us that the clientele there that night were not patrons but friends of
the owners and employees. They were attending so that we did not publicly
humiliate ourselves, and the club, on our first appearance. What a relief that
was to me at least. Mind you, I had to be persuaded in order actually to go
through with a full performance again.
It
was a week and a day later on a Saturday night that Gemma and myself, now
suitable attired in proper skirts and blouses and having had our hair
professionally styled arrived for our first public showing. Once again, we were
as nervous as could be, and I even struggled to take my jacket off in the
changing rooms as I fumbled for the buttons. I guess that the debacle of the
previous week was uppermost in my mind. I was determined not to look so stupid
again.
This
week I had chosen some music that I thought was appropriate for the evening and
that I felt I could try and cavort to as I undressed. The owners informed us
that panties could stay on and that no touching of us by the public was allowed
although we could if we wanted, walk between the tables while in a state of
undress.
There
were two other girls there that night who had clearly done the whole thing
previously. I think one of them was a bit jealous of Gemma as she was a
beautiful girl with a much better chest than mine, and a smile for which to
die. She like me tended to wear little makeup, to be honest, we never needed
to.
The
other two girls were plastered with mascara, eye shadow and lipstick. We
watched them perform and do a full-body strip -- nothing left to the
imagination. I let Gemma go first this time but soon wondered if it was a good
idea. The longer she continued, the more clammy my hands became, the drier my
throat became, and the more scared I became.
Suddenly
Gemma was walking off to great applause, and it was my turn! Out I went like a
rabbit caught in the headlights determined that this time things would work out
well. They did!
I
danced slowly, and I hoped provocatively to the number I had chosen Dean
Martin's 'That's Amore.' I felt that a slower song would be easier to move to
and with the aspect of love within the words thought it would work in putting
those in attendance in a right frame of mind to be kind and warm towards me. It
seemed to work.
I
flounced my skirt a little lifting it at both sides to reveal what I have
always concluded to be my best assets, my legs. I then teasingly undid the
buttons on my blouse and after popping the last one did several open and
closing movements providing a glimpse each time of my bra and then my bare
shoulders until I decided to go further.
I
undid the little zip at the side of my skirt and let it fall to the floor,
which it did, to my great relief, without any hitch. My legs were now exposed,
although the long blouse still covered the majority of my panties. I
alternately pulled the blouse up, dropped it off my shoulders and held it open
to allow a little taste of what was to come.
Then
I stepped off the stage and deliberately let my blouse drop off my arms behind
me as I did so. I was feeling a lot more confident now, even though with coming
onto the floor from the stage, I could see far more faces than the lights on
the stage usually allowed.
I decided that I would not twirl my bra when I removed it. I pulled
it down a few times teasingly giving customers a sneak peek of my tiny breasts.
This strategy seemed to work well as wolf whistles that I had heard previously
for Gemma resounded round the room.
I
became so brave I turned around and pulled my panties down just once providing
a wee peek at my backside. As I turned back I reached behind me and undid the
catch on my bra quickly pulling it off and holding it on one finger I let it
too drop to the floor.
I
was a twenty-year-old university student, standing before about fifty people,
mostly men in a club that allowed girls like me to show their charms to paying
guests. It was rather a strange sensation. I walked between the tables knowing
that everyone there wanted a full display and my panties to come off too. I now
knew that I would be able to do that on my next visit. I desired to please
everyone!
On
our way home in my little car, Gemma and I discussed and giggled about every
little moment of our experience that night. We smiled at the thought of seeing
men obviously in their sixties sitting looking at us with lustful eyes. We
laughed at the impossible idea they might want to pay us for sex after another
show, and we both agreed that some were disappointed not to have seen us cavort
totally naked. If Brian and his wife agreed we decided next time we would do
the full Monty and leave nothing to the imagination. Anything those other
made-up girls could do we could do just as well if not better!
It
was three weeks later when the request came asking if we wished to 'perform.'
We were both happy enough to accept the offer, although, once again, very
nervous, especially so as we had decided that we would let everyone see
everything.
We
informed Brian of our decision, and he was happy enough after checking to
ensure we meant what we said and had said what we meant.
In
the intervening period both Gemma and I had gone out to purchase some new what
we termed 'sexy, racy and lacy' bra and pantie set underwear. I had gone very
daring with all red and to link had asked that the song 'Lady in Red' by Chris
DeBurgh to be played when I stripped. I, therefore, decided to wear a red
skirt, tartan red (Stewart) blouse and short red cardigan. It all seemed to
match perfectly. Gemma seemed more abstract; however, I did think her black
underwear was somewhat classy.
This
night it was my turn to go first and after the announcement of my name and that
no touching of the performers was allowed I strode fairly confidently out into
the glare of the lights and gaze of the people. The wee cardigan soon lay
discarded on the floor as I undid the buttons in a copy of what I had done
previously. Eventually, the skirt and blouse joined my cardigan in a pile.
The
song played again, and I could tell that the crowd in tonight were enjoying the
thrill of watching a young twenty-one-year-old girl from Edinburgh baring all
before them. A few more teases and I removed my bra. To my surprise, no one
seemed disappointed that my breasts were so small. There was plenty of
wolf-whistling and chanting from those watching.
I
then teased as I walked between the tables alternately pulling my knickers down
and up in, what I hoped was a provocative manner. Eventually, I bent over and
pulled them down to my knees, ensuring the guys on the nearest table, who just
happened to be the youngest and fittest, got a good eyeful of my bum. Then with
a little wiggle, I let them fall to the floor and standing up did a wee twirl
so that all could see my naked form.
More
whistles rang out along with a pretty good round of applause from the
appreciative onlookers. I sauntered between each table to ensure that no one
missed having a closer look at what they considered were my charms. Some asked
if they could touch, which was not allowed. Other asked for my number or where
we could meet. To my mind, it was clear that what I had accomplished had been
appreciated, and the terrible jeans fiasco melted into my dim memory.
Gemma
got on equally well if not more so with her much better endowment. After we had
completed our stint, we were blown away when five guys came asking if they
could meet us for sex in the 'private rooms.'
Although
Brian had shown us the rooms and explained what they were for I am sure that
neither Gemma or I had ever thought that we would be seriously propositioned
for sex after our performances. It just had not fully crossed our radar at that
time. We were both more than a little gobsmacked at these offers but politely
declined on that occasion. We needed time to think about such advances and any
advantages to be gained from them.
Next
day as we chatted together in my room about the events, Gemma asked how I would
feel if we suggested any there were allowed to touch us as we moved around. I
had gone to sleep the previous evening, thinking that it might be more fun and
more interactive if I had chosen several guys to come and remove my various
clothes during the show. It seemed, to me anyway, an exciting idea. I also knew
that hands feeling my body were a big turn on and readily agreed with Gemma
that we should suggest both options to Brian.
We
also discussed what to do if we were again asked for sex after the next show.
Being from Scotland, I had been brought up to value money and not to waste it
as it was so hard to come by. But here was an opportunity to earn not just our
fee paid each time we stripped but an awful lot more. Gemma was more careful
questioning if we really did want to play at being whores. I pointed out that
we would not be playing at being whores if we were getting paid. That made us
both giggle at the thought and we decided just to wait and see what happened on
the next occasion. We had not long to wait.
Brian
contacted us, asking if we could perform again on Friday as, due to illness,
two of his regulars had let him down. I had a pretty hefty and complex essay to
complete and hand in so was a little hesitant, but eventually, we agreed.
I
had decided that I needed a new wardrobe and it was at that time that I found
charity shops to be of such sound value, especially those situated in the
better-off areas. I managed to obtain two excellent knee-length dresses that
were a perfect fit. I also purchased a couple of skirts, one long and one
rather short, as well as a beautiful sequined and initially costly dress in
pink that looked fabulous on me. I knew too that I needed some new underwear,
but that would have to wait until limited funds allowed.
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