"Hi, Mr. Smith! You wanted to see me after school?"
"Come on in, Katie. Close the door."
I did as he asked, feeling curious about the situation. Mr. Smith had never asked me to come to his office after hours. He had a very odd expression, and he kept glancing from me to his computer monitor and back.
"Um…Did I do something wrong, Mr. Smith?"
"Katie…why don't you come around to this side of my desk and take a look at something with me."
"Sure thing, Mr. Smith," I said tentatively. It just seemed like an odd thing for him to ask me to do. I walked around to his side of the desk and looked at his monitor. My heart seemed to stop in my chest.
On the screen was a photo of a girl in a short tartan skirt. It was so short that her white panties peeked out below the bottom of it. From under the skirt extended her long pale legs, which ended in silver high-heeled sandals. Her pretty feet were accentuated by shiny pink toenail polish.
She was wearing a tight black crop top over her firm young breasts. Her flat belly was bare, with a gleaming stud belly button ring. She stood in a sexy pose with her hands on her hips. Her lips were coated in shiny lip gloss and were slightly parted in a sensual pout. Her hair was tied back into two pigtails.
It was obvious that she was meant to give off a vibe of being very young while still clearly sporting a very sexually mature young body with curves in all the right places. Despite the youthful appearance of the girl in the photo, I was absolutely certain she was eighteen.
I could tell a lot about her from that photo. And I could tell a lot about her for another reason. She was me.
—————
I knew I was a sex-crazed girl from the time I turned sixteen. My body matured rapidly that year, and my aloof parents were very liberal about my Internet usage, which allowed me to explore my sexuality to my heart's content. I was fond of the older boys, and as I got later into my high school years, I found ways to seek out college-aged men.
I lost my virginity at sixteen to the older brother of a friend, and my promiscuity exploded after that. I couldn't get enough sex, and finding many willing partners was easy. I was very adventurous, constantly wanting to try new things, and I considered myself an expert in bed by the time I was seventeen.
It was around this time that I discovered a new fascination: exchanging sex for money. It wasn't because I needed the money. My family is well off, and I have always had everything I needed and most of the things I wanted.
It was just that the idea of trading my body for money was so fucking hot. I loved thinking about older men who were willing to pay to fuck me because their wives didn't do the things they liked and because they were just too old.
I explored my new kink through pornography and Internet chat groups. I found young escorts online and would quiz them for information about their trade.
By the time I turned seventeen, I knew that I wanted to try it for real.
I started doing research and found a few escort agencies in my city. A few months before turning eighteen, I started contacting them to see if they would be willing to hire me. Not surprisingly, once they found out what I looked like and confirmed that I was serious, they absolutely did want to hire me. They especially loved my very youthful appearance; I was a teenager, and I looked the part.
They liked me so much that I ended up being the one to interview them. After several conversations, I settled on a very exclusive agency specializing in younger girls from eighteen to the mid-twenties. Several of their well-off clients had bid for the right to be my first customer on the day after I turned eighteen. My fee for that first encounter was two thousand dollars per hour, and the client booked me for four hours. After that, they had a waiting list of clients, each willing to pay me one thousand dollars per hour to use my young teen body.
When I heard this, my pussy gushed and soaked my panties. The money was great, but the thing that really got me off was the kink of knowing that I would be trading my young pussy to these men for that money.
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That was six months ago. Now, here I was in my teacher's office, staring at the escort agency's online advertisement for my services.
They had obscured my features somewhat, but anyone who spent a lot of time looking at me, for example, a teacher who leered at my young body every day in a classroom, was likely to notice the resemblance.
At age eighteen, I was about five foot two and a hundred and five pounds. I usually wore my shoulder-length blonde hair in a ponytail. My body was thin and petite, with firm c-cup breasts, and I turned male heads wherever I went. I'm the kind of girl that almost every man, and especially older married men, want to fuck.
Mr. Smith just looked at me, not saying anything. But I could hear his heart pounding. He was in his mid-forties and married. There was a wedding photo of him with his wife on his desk, and he wore a wedding ring.
"Mr. Smith, what's that website you're looking at?" I said, trying to sound shocked.
He looked at the screen for a few seconds, then back at me, then back at the screen, and then back at me again.
"Katie, that's you."
He said it as a statement of fact, not a question.
"What?? I guess that girl looks a little bit like me. You think that's me?"
"Yes, Katie. That's you."
I just stared at him for some time, hoping that maybe he would back off. But I had no such luck. He kept staring back at me, waiting for me to say something.
Finally, I gave in. "Okay, okay, you got me, Mr. Smith. It's me."
Even though he seemed to have been convinced about the identity of the young whore on his computer screen before I ever walked into his office, he still had a look of disbelief on his face.
I smiled a wicked smile. "I'm an escort, Mr. Smith. A call girl. Hot little high school girls are in high demand. And I'm eighteen - so they hired me. But, Mr. Smith, it's a kind of a secret."
"Katie, I just don't know what to say. I can't believe you're doing this. I feel like I need to contact your parents about this."
It was at this point that I started to realize that this little meeting wasn't necessarily all about giving away my secret about my chosen profession. He didn't need a meeting if he wanted to do that. He could have just called my parents or taken the matter to the school counselor or principal. I glanced down and noticed the prominent bulge forming in his pants. This meeting wasn't about getting me in trouble. It was about my opportunity to stay out of trouble. And his opportunity to get something in return.
With this new idea in mind, I suddenly felt more confident and in control. Mr. Smith was my teacher, but he was also just another man who would do almost anything to get his cock inside me. I was in familiar territory.
I smiled widely and looked directly into his eyes.
"Mr. Smith, you can't do that. That would ruin my life. Don't you think we can work this out? I mean, just the two of us here in your office?"
I leaned back on the edge of his desk, reached out, put one hand on his knee, and started to gently caress it. I was wearing tight black leggings and a tight-fitting top that left just a sliver of my belly bare. As I leaned back on the desk, my top rode up, exposing more of my flat belly and the same stud belly button ring from the online photo.
His eyes widened and locked onto my bare belly and the stud, and I saw him glance back to the photo and make the connection that they were one and the same.
"What do you mean?" he said, "Work it out how?"
"Well, I thought maybe you might have some questions? About exactly what I do? About...how much I charge? That kind of thing?"
I smiled at him slyly. He gulped, and I had the distinct impression that his mouth was going dry.
"Uh...well...okay," he croaked, his eyes fixed on my bare belly.
"Would you mind if I sat on your lap while we talked"
Not waiting for an answer, I slipped into his lap and put one arm around his neck. My ass rubbed over his hard cock in his pants, and he let out a little moan and he made a small thrusting motion against me as I sat down on him.
"I figured you wouldn't mind, Mr. Smith," I said with a little laugh.
"I offer a few different levels of service. For fifty dollars, I'll get naked for you and give you a slow, grinding lap dance through your clothes. You can touch me anywhere you want except for my pussy. That costs extra."
He just stared at me, almost in shock.
"After I have you nice and worked up, I'll take out your cock, and I'll jerk you off until you cum in my hand."
I wiggled in his lap, rubbing against his hard-on.
"Wow, Mr. Smith. I think you are getting really hard listening to me talk about being a whore. Can I touch?"
Once again, I didn't wait for an answer. I scooted my ass to one side, and I reached down and started to stroke him thru his pants, very slowly and deliberately.
"So, Mr. Smith. Do you have fifty dollars?"
I just looked at him with a little smile on my face, waiting for him to answer.
It finally dawned on him that it was a serious question.
"Um...yes. Yes, I do."
He reached into his desk and pulled out his wallet. He took out two twenties and a ten.
"Put the money on the desk, Mr. Smith, where we can both see it. I find that my clients enjoy themselves more if the money they use to pay me is in plain sight. Seeing the money while I'm servicing you gets me really wet."
He set the money on the desk.
"Are you ready for me to get naked?"
He nodded slowly as if in a dream.
I stood up in front of him and started by removing my sandals and taking off my top. I unfastened and removed my bra, exposing my young, firm tits.
"What do you think, Mr. Smith? You wanna touch them?"