Where it happened: massage parlor
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 10
Category: Straight
I lost my virginity at sixteen to the boy next door, but that was unremarkable and isn’t what I’m writing about. If I may, I’d rather tell about an event I found more exciting, the first time I had sex for money.
Way back in 1971 I was a junior in at a small Midwestern college. I worked nights and weekends and my parents helped all they could but I was broke. I ate peanut butter sandwiches and lived in a dumpy two bedroom apartment with up to five others and still couldn’t afford tuition and books. My grades disqualified me from scholarships or loans so I was going to have to drop out.
Then one day I was talking to Jill, one of my former roommates at the apartment. Six monthes earlier she had been as broke as me, but now she was doing much better. She had a decent place to live and even a car. I figured she had found a good job. At first Jill only told me that her job was in the large city forty miles or so from school. When I told her how desperate I was for money, Jill swore me to secrecy and told me that she worked in a massage parlor. She said she could get me a job there if I wanted one.
Massage parlors were a new phenomenom back in the early seventies. There were a few of them springing up in the larger cities, butI don’t think I had even seen one. We had heard that they were fronts for prostitution so I asked Jill if that was true. She admitted she had sex there and then she told me about the money. It was three or four times what I was making by working every spare minute. Best of all, I could pretty much set my own hours and could study between customers.
Her suggestion of a job for me had shocked me at first. I told you I wasn’t a virgin but I wasn’t a slut either. I was raised a good Catholic girl and still attended Mass irregularly. I guess I had maybe five or six sexual partners up till then and I wasn’t even on any birth control. Heck, I hadn’t had time for sex or a social life for over a year. But I was so tired of scrounging for money just to get by that a few days later I rode the bus to the city for an interview.
The parlor owners were an older married couple who interviewed me in their home. They weren’t at all the type of people I had imagined – greasy gangsters or “white slavers” or something. We sat in their kitchen drinking some beers and chatting while Jean, the wife, cooked dinner. They explained about the business and about some financial and legal aspects of working at the parlor. When I said I was still interested, Jean asked her husband to leave and had me take off my bulky sweater so she could check out my body. I was surprised that a woman who was basically a procurer would be so coy in front of her husband. Then she became much more specific about prices for various acts, work rules etc. She had been a prostitute earlier in her life and gave me a lot of advice on handling customers and staying clear of the police. It seemed motherly and innocent as we talked at her kitchen table. Jean thought I should change my name from Karen and we came up with Kia. [This was long before the cars.] As the new girl I would get mostly slow shifts. Jean scheduled me to start with Jill on a Monday night.
That afternoon I rode to work with Jill. The student health center had started me on oral contraceptives and Jill had loaned me some lingerie to wear. The parlor was called the Red Garter and was above a shoe store. Men rang a buzzer in back of the store and were buzzed in up a long flight of stairs. There was a lobby with a reception desk, a shower room, and three massage rooms. Two of these were tiny cubicles with only a sink and a massage table. The third contained a waterbed and a hot tub. It was a snowy, cold night and business was very slow. Jill gave me some more coaching and I tried to study a little. After a couple of hours the buzzer rang and Jill and I greeted the guy in the lobby. He chose Jill, or Monique as she was known at work. When the next two men also picked Jill/Monique I was feeling kind of snubbed. She was blonde and busty while I was brunette and average chested. During one of Jill’s sessions I listened outside the massage room door. The slurpy sounds of Jill sucking cock and the guy’s groans of orgasm were quite a turn on.
The next customer we buzzed up picked me. He wanted a long waterbed session, which was unusual. Jean and Jill had said that over ninety per cent of the clients opted for the quick massage and fellatio on the massage table but this guy wanted more. I collected the forty or fifty dollars for the house and he went to shower. Jill had serviced him several times before and said he was a nice guy. That helped, but I was still scared.
After his shower, I met him in the room. I asked him to remove the towel around his waist and lie face down on the bed. We exchanged names -his was Frank- as I prepared for his massage. After pouring some massage oil in my hands, I nervously set the bottle on the waterbed. Of course it spilled making a mess. Apoligising, I tried to clean it up but on the pitching waterbed I spilled even more. Frank just laughed and assured me it was allright. He asked how long I’d been doing this and I told him he was my first client. He laughed again, saying he was honored to be my first and that we were going to have fun. He was such a good guy that I relaxed a little.
He was maybe fifty years old but still in good shape. As I rubbed the oil into his back and shoulders we told each other a little about our lives. He was wearing a wedding band but didn’t mention his family. When I asked him to roll over I saw that he was erect. I was wearing Jill’s white satin camisole and my nipples showed through the fabric. Frank touched a fingertip to my nipple and asked me to undress. Jean had stressed getting the client to make the proposition for legal reasons so I asked what he wanted. Frank said he wanted to fuck me and I collected forty dollars more.[This was 1971 and forty dollars was a lot of money.] I took him over to the washbasin where I gently washed and checked his penis as Jean had instructed.
Frank stripped off my camisole and panties and we laid down together. He was definately a titty man and spent a long time caressing and suckling my breasts. Back then I was about a 34b with small dark nipples. Like every girl I guess I was insecure about my body so I liked the compliments and attention. When Frank asked, “Can I put it between them?” like an idiot I replied, “Put what?”. We both cracked up over my stupidity.
When we quit laughing, Frank gently tittyfucked me for a few minutes. As he moved into position to enter me, that Cathlic guilt hit me hard. Images of my father, [who was about Frank’s age], my mother, my grade school nuns popped into my head. I guess I shut my eyes and clutched the sheets with my hands. Frank stopped, saying I looked like I was going in for a root canal. We both laughed and I spread wide for him. Until now, he had been extrodinarily gentle with me but now he became much more physical. He pounded into me hard and fast. I tried to match his rythm on the sloshing waterbed best I could. Back then, AIDS was unknown so he wasn’t wearing a condom. After a minute or two of slamming into me, Frank clutched me hard and I felt his semen shoot up me.
Frank rolled off me, praising my talents. When he left to shower Jill entered the room. She was dying to know what all the laughing had been about.
Later that night, I had I think three more clients. All of them wanted blowjobs. That was not a problem for me, but Jean had emphasised that fellatio was to end with the client’s orgasm in my mouth. I had never done that, but I managed to overcome my squimishness. At closing time I had made more money than I usually made in a week.
I began working three or four shifts a week at the Red Garter. During vacations or semester breaks I worked more. Frank became a regular customer, seeing me maybe once a month. I worked there for my two remaining undergrad years and a year of grad school. Then I took a legitimate job in Oregon and finished my master’s nights with the money I had saved. I can honestly say I had no bad experiances and enjoyed my time at the massage parlor.
Today I am a respected professional woman, happily married and faithful for twenty two years. My husband knows nothing about my time at the parlor, but he certainly has enjoyed the skills I honed there. I’m the mother of three children, including a daughter. No, I would not want her working where I did. I hope she never has to. But the Red Garter is still there for girls who badly need the money.
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