I showered and washed myself very thoroughly, going over my body with a critical eye. I had to make sure everything was shaved to the smoothest degree, that every patch of dry skin was moisturised, that every blemish was noted and treated so that it would leave my skin flawless and perfect.
I had a long morning routine that I had to observe, because I felt like it was my duty to look my absolute best to bring the men that I fucked pleasure. It was the easiest way to get a constant flow of semen, which I just couldn’t imagine living without.
I was born in Egypt originally, though my mother was British, leaving me with a slight tan to my skin that screamed “exotic” and paired well with a black dress and red heels, which I wore as often as I could. I always curled streaks of my long black hair and seldom wore much makeup, beyond the standard eyeliner and eyeshadow which made my eyes look mysterious.
I finished touching up my appearance and left the apartment, waving goodbye to Brian along the way. I spent most of my days in bars and clubs these days, ever since I turned 18 six months ago. I always wanted to be a cum dump when I was younger, and practiced a lot on the boys when I was in school. I learned that it was the fastest way to get what I want, and that there was no better taste than semen, or feeling that being pounded like a slab of meat.
It’s just my personality, I suppose.
The London streets were damp from the morning’s rain, and I hurried along them in search of my favourite place. Prostitution was not illegal in Britain, but soliciting sex along the side of the road was, so I tended to stay in the crowded areas and pick up Johns where I could. Of course, I would do my service to men for free, but staying in central London was an expensive exercise, so I had a weekly quota that I wanted to meet. Luckily men were more than willing to pay the cheap prices that I offered for my services, and my natural beauty was enough that I could get dozens of clients every day.
I reached the Green Charm pub and walked inside, smiling at the men and women that greeted me. Most of them knew me as the local whore, and I had a special relationship with the bartenders and owners of the establishment. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, then scoped the place out.
“Sarah, hot girl at seven o’clock,” the bartender said, placing a scotch in front of me. Lucy was always helping me find my next meal, in exchange for a cut. I had the feeling that she would have done it for free, that it was like a game for her, but she was so kind that I was happy to give her something in return.
I turned and discreetly looked at the woman sipping a coke and rum in the corner. A tight pair of jeans was complemented by a tube top that barely covered what was clearly a sizeable pair of double D’s.
“What do you think? A freebie, or should I get paid for it?” I asked, turning back to Lucy. The woman laughed and shook her head.
“You’d better get paid,” she said, smiling. “I wouldn’t want to have to spank you again.”
I shrugged and drained my drink. I wouldn’t actually mind that…