There was a time when I was flat-out broke. My little part-time job wasn’t even covering the basics—I needed new tires just to make it through winter, some decent clothes, and a few other things my parents definitely weren’t going to pay for.

A friend of mine had been on a sugar-dating website and was doing really well. One night I was sitting at home, watching the snow pile up, thinking, “Is this something I want to try? Could I actually do this?”

Looking at the snow made the answer clear—my bald tires weren’t going to survive the winter. I grabbed my laptop and typed in the site she used, just to take a peek.

There wasn’t much to see unless you signed up, so after a minute of hesitation, I started filling out a profile—height, weight, sizes, a little about me. They required at least three pictures, but I uploaded five.

Once I was done, I could finally browse the site. It said profiles took 24–48 hours to get approved, so I logged off and tried not to think about it.

By the next afternoon, curiosity got the better of me. I logged in expecting nothing, but my profile had already been approved—and there were a dozen messages waiting.

I read through them carefully, deleted five right away, and replied to the seven that didn’t sound completely creepy.

One guy answered immediately. We messaged for a while, and he seemed straightforward, experienced… safe enough. He wanted to meet up that night.

We couldn’t go straight to his house because his wife was up at their lake cabin, and as he put it, “The nosiest neighbors on the planet” would notice. We agreed I’d meet him at a small clinic near his place.

When I saw his truck pull up, I climbed in. This is when it clicked in my head—he was almost fifty years older than me, thick around the middle but well-dressed. As we got close to his neighborhood, he asked me to recline my seat so no one could see me with him. I laughed but understood—it added a weird little thrill to it.

We pulled into his garage, waited for the door to shut, and only then did I sit up. Inside, he led me straight downstairs to a spare bedroom.

I thought I’d be nervous, but I wasn’t. At the foot of the bed, he put his hands on my waist and kissed me—light pecks, no tongue, like he was testing me. His hands slid down to my ass, first over my jeans, then inside them. My sweatshirt and bra came off, and he cupped my boobs gently, rubbing and playing with my nipples like he had all night to explore me.

It didn’t take long before I sank to my knees and opened his jeans. He wasn’t freshly trimmed, but I worked with what was there.

When I took him in my mouth, he let out a low groan, his fingers sliding through my hair, holding me steady as I worked. I paused to ask if he could go twice—he chuckled and said he usually could—so I kept going.

About ten minutes in, he rose onto his toes, and I knew he was close. I sped up, and he grabbed my head just as he started to cum, filling my mouth.

When he finished, I slid my hand around him, milking out every drop as I pulled off. I leaned back, opened my mouth wide to show him what he’d given me, then swallowed it all in one gulp.

He watched me stand, a hungry look in his eyes, before stripping me completely. He climbed onto the bed, pulling me with him, and pushed my thighs apart. I propped myself up on pillows, watching as this man, older than my father, settled between my legs. Before he got started, he told me to speak up if I wanted him to do anything different, then ran his tongue straight through my pussy.

The first slow swipe made me gasp, my hips rocking upward. He took his time, licking me long and deep, circling my clit, dipping down to taste me everywhere. His big hands gripped my thighs, holding me open like he wanted to explore every inch, his tongue working me in steady, wet strokes.

I felt it building fast. My breath caught, my legs started to shake, and then several waves started rolling through my body as I had a very nice orgasm. He didn’t stop. He stayed down there, tongue and lips relentless, sucking my clit until I came again, whimpering louder than I meant to, my back arching off the bed.

By the time he finally pulled his face up, I was panting, my skin flushed and damp with sweat. He crawled up over me, hard, and I felt his cock press against my pussy. He pushed in slowly, slipping inside of me, making me let out a low, broken sound.

“Fuck…” I breathed as he went balls deep inside me, his weight settling over me.

He started to move, slow at first, then steady, his hips grinding down as his old cock filled my teenage pussy. His hands were firm on my legs, his breath hot against my neck. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, feeling every inch slide in and out.

Minutes passed, his pace staying strong. Every thrust hit just right, making me moan into his shoulder. I could feel him getting closer—his thrusts deliberate, his breath turning ragged—but he held on, fucking me hard, making me take it.

Finally, he slammed in deep, holding himself there, his body tense as I felt him pulse and unload inside me. He groaned, pushing tight against me, his cock pumping his swimmers into my pussy.

When he finally relaxed and pulled out, I felt some of his cum spill between my thighs as I lay there, catching my breath, knowing this was only the start of getting paid to meet men to let them have sex with me. 

We talked for several minutes after he pulled out, both of us catching our breath. He was grinning, shaking his head a little like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“Jesus… you felt so damn good,” he said, brushing his hand over my hip. “That blowjob… and swallowing for me… fuck, you made me feel like a king.”

I smiled, still sprawled out on the bed, my thighs still open for him to enjoy the view. “You did a great job yourself,” I told him honestly. “Lasted a long time for round two. I wasn’t expecting that.”

He chuckled, leaning over to kiss me softly. “Next time… maybe we can try a few other things. I was a little nervous tonight—didn’t want to scare you off.”

I kissed him back, a quick peck on his lips. “You didn’t scare me. And yeah… we can definitely do more next time.”

We finally got dressed, headed upstairs, and went into the garage. Just like before, I had to slide down in the passenger seat as he backed out and drove through the neighborhood, making sure none of the nosy neighbors caught sight of me.

When we reached my truck, he stopped and handed me the agreed-on amount… plus an extra fifty. “For being such a good girl,” he said with a wink. “If you’re good with it… I’d like to make this a regular thing. Once a month?”

I nodded, pocketing the cash. “I’m good with that.”

I leaned over, gave him one last peck on the lips, and slipped out of his truck. I walked to mine with shaky legs, started it up, and drove away, knowing this would be a long, profitable profession.