Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance by Lindsey Bedder
Authors: Lindsey Bedder
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dollars?”
“Yup.”
“Just think about it, please—”
“I said yup, Rebecca,” he said. “Yup-yup.”
I hesitated. In whore terms, which also happen to be college girl terms, this sale seemed much too easy. “Are you sure you heard me correctly? Do you want to ask me what I said?”
If possible, he blushed even more. “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”
“I want to suck your dick, Ameet.”
“I’m glad you said that,” he replied awkwardly. “Do you really wish to suck my dick?”
“Yes, uh, Ameet, I really wish that.”
“World’s worst porn dialogue,” RJ commented.
“Then yes, I will be down for that.” He was blushing furiously, traffic-light red, but speaking like we had a procedure we had to observe. What can I say? In our generation, bad porn dialogue is the universal starting point for casual hookups. And yeah, somehow I think this was Ameet’s first time with a whore. I mean with a model.
“Do you want to think about it, Ameet?”
“Fuck no. I have the money. Here.” He yanked a bill from his pocket and waved it. “You can make change, right?”
“Sure.” I tried a sexy wink, and said, “Or I can owe you.”
“Of course. We can write an IOU statement. I have a template on my computer.”
Was this boy really worried about the money, or was he simply nervous? I felt a moment’s insecurity about my rates. Unless he lasted a full hour, I’d be drastically overcharging, in baby-sitter terms.
“Is $10 too much?” I asked.
“No,” Ameet said seriously. “I believe that at $10, it already puts you among the cheapest of all the whores.”
The silver-tongued devil! Somehow, guys always figure out my triggers. If I could figure out how they learned that and bottle it, I’d be rich.
With a gush of excitement, I impulsively kissed him on the mouth. He kissed back without hesitation, and even pulled me in for another when I broke away. My friendly little tongue-kiss turned into a hot, two-minute make-out session.
I didn’t expect to like it, but I did. Ameet wasn’t a pro, like me, but he was an enthusiastic amateur. So far, my first effort at whoring—first sober, conscious effort, at least—wasn’t much different from closing time at the bar.
As for RJ, he was smiling so big, the whole bottom of his face was white in my peripheral vision. The rest of him, with his dark skin, simply blurred into the shadows behind the doorway. His floating, brilliant smile was like a cheshire cat with a nasty imagination.
Honestly, though, I don’t think Ameet was particularly hot…except now I did find him hot, because he was holding money in his hand and he had a dick to suck. I found him strangely compelling, and myself oddly attracted and turned-on.
Speaking of which…
I slid around and knelt in front of him. I opened his pants. It was strange to do it not for a photo shoot, but for something sordid and sexual. Ameet and I both breathed hard as I brought my face to his lap. I closed my mouth over his cock, and he sighed. I started slowly, girlfriend style, and explored his size, his shape, his taste, listening to his breathing. My tongue swept over the details of his glans, and he gasped. I learned the heft of his cock, and how it swung, when I moved my head up and down. I wanted this to last, and I wanted to remember everything about it.
I know my life might look strange from the outside. To the world, I’m a fashionable, friendly girl, popular with the guys. I have a budding career as a model, I’m on top of my schedule, I keep up with classes, and my professors love me. Put it all together, and I’m the kind of girl you can bring home to mother, and then set loose at a frat party afterward, where I’ll carry the room and make your friends jealous.
But then there’s this hidden, dirty, libidinous side of me that nobody knows about. I’m almost coy when it comes to sex, as you can probably tell. I don’t think anybody has guessed how how slutty I really am, even
“Yup.”
“Just think about it, please—”
“I said yup, Rebecca,” he said. “Yup-yup.”
I hesitated. In whore terms, which also happen to be college girl terms, this sale seemed much too easy. “Are you sure you heard me correctly? Do you want to ask me what I said?”
If possible, he blushed even more. “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”
“I want to suck your dick, Ameet.”
“I’m glad you said that,” he replied awkwardly. “Do you really wish to suck my dick?”
“Yes, uh, Ameet, I really wish that.”
“World’s worst porn dialogue,” RJ commented.
“Then yes, I will be down for that.” He was blushing furiously, traffic-light red, but speaking like we had a procedure we had to observe. What can I say? In our generation, bad porn dialogue is the universal starting point for casual hookups. And yeah, somehow I think this was Ameet’s first time with a whore. I mean with a model.
“Do you want to think about it, Ameet?”
“Fuck no. I have the money. Here.” He yanked a bill from his pocket and waved it. “You can make change, right?”
“Sure.” I tried a sexy wink, and said, “Or I can owe you.”
“Of course. We can write an IOU statement. I have a template on my computer.”
Was this boy really worried about the money, or was he simply nervous? I felt a moment’s insecurity about my rates. Unless he lasted a full hour, I’d be drastically overcharging, in baby-sitter terms.
“Is $10 too much?” I asked.
“No,” Ameet said seriously. “I believe that at $10, it already puts you among the cheapest of all the whores.”
The silver-tongued devil! Somehow, guys always figure out my triggers. If I could figure out how they learned that and bottle it, I’d be rich.
With a gush of excitement, I impulsively kissed him on the mouth. He kissed back without hesitation, and even pulled me in for another when I broke away. My friendly little tongue-kiss turned into a hot, two-minute make-out session.
I didn’t expect to like it, but I did. Ameet wasn’t a pro, like me, but he was an enthusiastic amateur. So far, my first effort at whoring—first sober, conscious effort, at least—wasn’t much different from closing time at the bar.
As for RJ, he was smiling so big, the whole bottom of his face was white in my peripheral vision. The rest of him, with his dark skin, simply blurred into the shadows behind the doorway. His floating, brilliant smile was like a cheshire cat with a nasty imagination.
Honestly, though, I don’t think Ameet was particularly hot…except now I did find him hot, because he was holding money in his hand and he had a dick to suck. I found him strangely compelling, and myself oddly attracted and turned-on.
Speaking of which…
I slid around and knelt in front of him. I opened his pants. It was strange to do it not for a photo shoot, but for something sordid and sexual. Ameet and I both breathed hard as I brought my face to his lap. I closed my mouth over his cock, and he sighed. I started slowly, girlfriend style, and explored his size, his shape, his taste, listening to his breathing. My tongue swept over the details of his glans, and he gasped. I learned the heft of his cock, and how it swung, when I moved my head up and down. I wanted this to last, and I wanted to remember everything about it.
I know my life might look strange from the outside. To the world, I’m a fashionable, friendly girl, popular with the guys. I have a budding career as a model, I’m on top of my schedule, I keep up with classes, and my professors love me. Put it all together, and I’m the kind of girl you can bring home to mother, and then set loose at a frat party afterward, where I’ll carry the room and make your friends jealous.
But then there’s this hidden, dirty, libidinous side of me that nobody knows about. I’m almost coy when it comes to sex, as you can probably tell. I don’t think anybody has guessed how how slutty I really am, even
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