If you didn't live in Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria or several other Russian satellite states in the 1980s, you have no idea what it was like. Food was scarce, constant surveillance, state-run TV offered one or two channels, and a ten-year wait for a car if you could afford it. Few of us could afford even a TV let alone a car. If you wanted something to work, you fixed it yourself or it stayed broken.

Obviously, the black market flourished. That was what it was like in Bulgaria when I was a teenager. Socialism was a system of equality, in other words, poverty for all. We had a democracy, of course, as long as you voted for a Communist.

My dad worked on the railroad at night and drank during the day. My mom cleaned homes and entertained men at night. She had to do the night job if we wanted to eat and heat our home. Dad knew about it and just said, "That's just the way it is."

Mom was thirty-six, pretty, with a nice body for her age. She loved us, me and Petar, doing what she could to take care of us. Mom told us it was important that we did well at school. My name is Sofija and I did well with my studies. I learned to speak Russian although English was forbidden. Petar spent most of his time playing football (soccer). He wasn't much of a student like most of his friends.

Although Mom did the best she could for us, I wanted more, like new dresses and shoes. I wanted makeup and a pretty blouse. These things seem ordinary to Americans but to me, they were only dreams.

So what does a girl do if she wants nice perfume or jewelry, a dress or shoes? She finds a boyfriend with sticky fingers. Maybe he is a clerk at a store or delivers packages or steals from home. I never asked Pavel when he gave me something nice. Once he brought me a bracelet that he called a friendship bracelet. It was nice but more expensive than he could afford. I didn't care how he got it. I liked it. After we broke up, I traded it for lipstick and mascara. They made me feel like a beauty queen.

So trading and bartering was a way of life in those days. It started for me early. A boy had a chocolate Hershey bar that I wanted. He gave me half for doing his math homework. When I was sixteen and my body had filled out, boys became more demanding. One boy, a little older than me, made earrings. I think he was seventeen or eighteen. They were made from scraps he found in the trash in the back of the jewelry store. He was very talented so the earrings looked very nice. I wanted a pair.

He said, "Okay, if you show me your tits." We hid behind a building and I pulled up my blouse. He wanted to touch my breasts and pinch my nipples.

I really wanted the earrings and said, "Okay." I got the jewelry and it started me thinking in a new way.

One day I was walking home from high school and a guy walked up to me. He seemed friendly at first, then showed me a beautiful silk scarf and said, "Give me a blowjob and you can have it." I didn't know what he meant. I thought it was some kind of kiss so I went with him to an abandoned building.

When he pulled out his cock, I understood what he wanted. The next week I wore the scarf to school. It was his sister's scarf. She took it back and all I had was a lesson in fellatio. The taste of his cum is still etched in my memory.

After that, I learned "the art of the deal" and became the blowjob princess. At first, I took inexpensive items, then traded up to nicer and more expensive things. Soon I wore attractive jewelry, styled my hair, and always wore makeup. The boys liked me and were increasingly more generous. It was a never-ending progression that soon got the attention of adults.

Although I was not quite seventeen, men treated me like an adult. I liked the attention. My dad told me I looked like Princess Grace, whoever she was. "Do you think so, Dad?" I asked him.

"Yes, he slurred, "and so do my friends."

"Do you think they can help me find a pair of sneakers?"

"Maybe. You would have to talk to Dimitar about that. He has contacts that might be able to help." I knew his contacts meant the black market.

Dad didn't ask what I had to trade but he had a pretty good idea what Dimitar would want. In a way, Dad was pimping his daughter.

I met Dimitar in the village market. He said, "Your dad said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes. I want to find some sneakers. Something nice like AirJordans."

"That's out of the question Sofija. Everything from the West is illegal. You should know that."

"Yes, but Dad said you have contacts."

"It would put me in danger. Even if I could find you something, they would cost more than you have."

"You don't know what I have. See what you can find."

"Don't hold your breath but I'll look."

On my seventeenth birthday, Dad told me that Dimitar might have found something for me. "He has an apartment on Dragan Tsankov. Go and see him there."

After school that day, I knocked on his door. Dimitar opened the door a crack peeking out making sure it wasn't the police. "Come in quick," he ordered.

I slipped quietly into his grungy one-room apartment. It smelled of sweat and mold. He looked like he hadn't slept or washed in a month. "What's your name?" he growled.

"Sofija."

"Oh yes, you're Stanislav's girl."

"Yes, I'm his daughter."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen today. Today is my birthday."

"And you are here for your birthday present. It's sneakers. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. Dad thought you might have found a pair for me."

"How much you got?"

"How much? Do you mean money? Twelve Levs."

He laughed. "I don't do charity."

Dimitar reached under the bed and pulled out a pair of partially worn shoes. "This is what I've got. What are you willing to give?"

They weren't Nike but a pair of men's Adidas. "Those are German, not American," I objected.

"Take it or leave it."

"I've got some nice jewelry," and I showed him a plastic bag with all my jewelry figuring I might get the shoes cheap and trade up for something better.

"Maybe you've got something nicer to trade. Come over here. Let me look."

I stood next to him. The man was revolting but I went along with it. I wanted the shoes.

"I get more generous if you take off your clothes."

Getting naked in front of this lecherous man was almost too much but I did it. His hands touched me all over, pinching my nipples and stroking my pussy.

"Spread your legs so I can feel your vlagalishte." He pushed a finger a little way in. "Hmm. The market place pays high prices for girls like you."

"Like me?"

"Virgins, like you." I felt like some kind of commodity. "I'll tell you what, Sofija, we might be able to make a deal. I know a man who will help you pay for these shoes if you are nice to him."

"Nice? How?"

"Go to his house and keep him company for a little while."

"Company? What kind of company?"

"Nice company, real nice."

"Nice like in having sex?"

"That's up to the both of you but if you want the shoes, he would be more willing to pay if you had sex with him. If you agree, I'll make the arrangements."

"Okay," I said thinking I could back out.

A few days later, Dimitar gave me a man's name and address. "The meeting is at eight tomorrow night," he explained.

The name was Russian and the address was in the Russian part of town where many of them were living a comfortable life at the expense of Bulgarians. Maybe this won't be so bad after all, I began to think. The first thing I did was dye my hair blonde and shaved my pussy. I showed up at his doorstep wearing my best makeup trying to look older.

He greeted me warmly inviting me inside. He was a heavyset man about my father's age. He wore a smoking jacket, reading glasses and a large diamond ring. "Dimitar said you were a virgin. You look much too old for that."

I smiled and asked, "How old do you think I am?"

"Maybe twenty or twenty-two."

"Well maybe my body looks that age but I'm only seventeen."

"My name is Sergey. What do they call you?"

"I'm Darya," I lied.

"Dimitar gave me a different name. Maybe you are her sister."

I smiled at him and let it pass.

"So Darya, we'll have a glass of vodka together first," and he poured a glass for each of us. I sipped it slowly.

"That's not how a good Russian drinks his vodka," then he emptied the glass in one gulp. "Go ahead and try it." I did it in two gulps. Sergey poured two more glasses.

"I'm not Russian, sir, but thank you. One is good enough for me."

"Call me, Sergey. There is no need to be formal for this occasion.

"What occasion is this, Sergey?"

"In a few minutes, we'll discuss that in the bedroom. Maybe you would prefer some wine. I have some fine wine."

Maybe it was the vodka or the twinkle in his forty-year-old eyes but I was beginning to like Sergey. "Okay, a glass of wine would be nice."

Sergey returned from a fridge hidden in a closet with a bottle of French wine. I knew nothing about wine but after the vodka, it was delicious. My glass was empty when he took my hand and led me to his bedroom.

He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then asked, "Would you like me to help you take off your clothes?"

"That would be fine," I told him. I liked his gentlemanly manner.

Stark naked, Sergey helped me to the bed, then removed his clothes. I had seen boys' erections many times having sucked them in exchange for things a girl desires. I had never seen a man's cock and never anything so big. "I can't do this Sergey," I whimpered and let a few tears trickle down my cheeks.

"I'll make it good for you, Darya. Lay back and let me show you."

He parted my legs and began showing me. His tongue was hot and wet licking up and down my slit. He found my clit and sucked it until it turned cherry red. I let out a screech! The feeling was almost too much. His fingers penetrated my pussy and I could feel them break through my hymen. "Ouch! Ow, ow, that hurts. You're hurting me."

Sergey kissed me deeply and said, "Yes, it's only temporary. There is so much for you to learn about pleasure. I will help you learn."

I watched as he took a towel and cleaned a small amount of blood from his fingers then wiped my pussy. "Is that my blood?" I asked in a near panic.

"This is your love potion that is the first step in becoming a woman." He kissed me again, then sucked my nipples hard. "I want you to know that when I go inside you, there will be new feelings, strange feelings, feelings you have never experienced. In time, you will want them as much as I want you."

This gave me some confidence but the conflicting emotions of fear and excitement abruptly disappeared when he began to push in. I could only anticipate the pain.

Sergey took his time. When he was in halfway and pulled out, I thought that was as far as he would go and was finished. It was just the beginning. Slowly and deeper he went. I could hear his breathing become more rapid. I could feel his man hairs rub against me and knew he was all in. Perspiration dripped from his forehead as he began thrusting, in and out, out and in.

How long would that last? I wondered. I still waited for the pain. It didn't happen. I can't say I was enjoying him pound into me but it wasn't unpleasant.

As he continued fucking me, I felt relieved in an odd sort of way. I began to relax and my insides responded accepting the intruder as easily as a hand sliding into a well-used glove. Then he gasped, grunted, and groaned and collapsed on me. I thought he had a heart attack. It was over. My first time was history, never to be forgotten.

My insides were bruised and wet from his cum that started to ooze out. He wiped his forehead, then gave me the towel to clean up. I had been too young and inexperienced to ask him to use a condom. I hoped I wouldn't regret it.

"You came inside me. What if I get pregnant, Sergey?"

"Don't worry, honey. My friends can help you with that. They specialize in providing care for young girls in difficult situations like that." I didn't get pregnant but I was sore for a week.

Before leaving I asked, "Will you give Dimitar the money for the shoes?"

"Not yet, darling. Come back in two weeks and we'll talk about it. And Darya, come back with less makeup. Don't come here looking like a whore again. Oh, and arrive here with your real name."

More meetings with Sergey weren't part of the deal but I liked him and he was polite and gentle. On the return trips, I learned to drink vodka like a Russian and fuck like a whore. I liked it, even craved his fat cock pulsating inside me. I also got the shoes that were later traded for something better.

Sergey and I had been lovers for several months when he invited me to a party. "What kind of party, Sergey?" I asked.

"Just a group of my friends. They would like to meet you. I'd like you to entertain them."

"These friends, they want to fuck me, right?"

"Look, there is good money in it for you. These are generous friends."

I went to the party that was as I had expected. The first man was discreet and took me in the bedroom for a private consultation, just the two of us. When he finished, a second man jumped in for an even longer fuck. I was about to leave the room when a third and fourth man used me, one in my mouth, the other in my cunt. By that time, it was a free for all orgy.

When it was over, I had been with six men, some twice. Many were rough and belligerent, leaving me with bruises but the money was good. They paid in rubles that I later exchanged in the black market that was far better than the official exchange rate.

After that, I was invited to many Russian homes, sometimes for an orgy, being passed around like a plate of mekitsa, sometimes with a man's wife for a threesome where I learned other appetizing flavors. I now had my own circle of comrades to gratify. One even knew my mother. He said she was good and had bigger tits than me but I had a tighter pussy. I guess that was a compliment.

Soon after my eighteenth birthday, I moved out of my parent's apartment and got one of my own. One of my Russian comrades found me a nice place but it cost me several coital visits before he had the occupants kicked out. The rent was expensive but I could afford it.

I continued to be a guest at many Russian homes until something incredible happened when I turned twenty. In 1990, my Russian friends began to disappear. Within a few months, they were all gone, even Sergey. I had no more comrades to help me pay the rent. Sergey's apartment was empty, as were many others that the Russians had left abandoned, and I moved into it like it was my own.

The Bulgarian who owned it before the Russian occupation demanded payment. I gave him a paltry amount in exchange for the title. He was happy to get something, almost anything after being scammed by the foreigners. That was my first lesson in the difference between Communism and Capitalism.

Changes in Bulgaria began slowly at first, then all at once. New money was buying and renovating homes. Western companies set up shop in the larger cities like Sofia, the capital where I moved in 2000, Sofia has an incredible history so tourists came to learn our history and enjoy our hot water springs. It was in these baths where I met many of my customers as an escort and made more money than I could have ever imagined.

In 2002, I found an apartment complex with five small units and rented them to young girls who worked for me. They were all cute and innocent like I was at seventeen. I found them at a festival near Varna on the coast where they have an annual summer nudist pageant. The girls modeled for prizes. Some were in the junior group, just turned sixteen. I became friends with a few of the girls and told them to contact me when they were ready to work for me.

I promised them a job and a place to live. They were told they would escort handsome rich men. Many were small-town girls like myself and were excited to move to the big city. I trained most of them in how to pleasure men. Some took longer than others to get accustomed to the work. All of them had no trouble finding clients in the now thriving city of Sofia. Men of all ages came enthusiastically after these girls just like when I was young and was told there was a market for young girls' tight pussies.

I hired only one virgin. Her name was Gergana. She lived on a farm and wanted to escape her father and the pigs. When she arrived in Sofia, Gergana said she wasn't that kind of girl. I assured her, all girls become that kind of girl; girlfriend, wife, mistress, or whore. One objective in life for a girl is to satisfy men. I promised to be with her for the first time.

I found an older man, Kiril, that reminded me of Sergey, gentle and kind. I was first and started with a blowjob then fucked him in different positions. "You can see, Gergana. This can be fun. She laid on the bed with her eyes closed as if she was about to be tortured. Kiril stroked her hair and face, then lightly kissed her on the lips. He went down on her with his hands under her firm butt, taking his time to lick and suck every tender place.

His fingers entered her like Sergey's entered mine and when Kiril felt it was time, he penetrated her with his lusty hard cock. It was surprising how easily he fit. With a lot of self-control, he fucked her slowly until nature had its way and he banged hard into that sweet young pussy. He came with a violent eruption that squirted out of the dear girl when he pulled out. She cried, of course, but it didn't keep her from pleasuring many men afterward, That was a start and eventually, Gergana was one of my best girls.

Occasionally I gave orgy parties for my wealthiest friends. Usually, it was Russian champagne and hor 'd oeuvres with unlimited group sex. They were only asked to tip the girls if they had a good time. Yana always gave men a good time. She was amazing. Yana used every hole, servicing three men at a time. Once I saw her with four giving a handjob, blowjob, a cock in her ass and another in her cunt.

Nadya was a girl with great tits. She was bisexual and liked women. She and I got along really well. At a private affair, Nadya, myself and an American who called himself Boomer, teamed up in my apartment. He was hung and had been with Nadya before. He wanted a threesome.

Our three naked bodies snuggled together on my king size bed. Nadya and I exchanged hot kisses with my hand stroking Boomer's cock while Boomer had his fingers in Nadya's slit. We all wiggled and squirmed getting the most pleasure possible. Boomer moved behind me while I was eating Nadya's delicious twat and shoved his cock deep into my sopping wet pussy. When he got tired of reaming me out, he moved to Nadya for a tit fuck, then pushed in for anal.

I found an opening between her legs so I could suck his balls and lick his cock each time he pulled out for a short rest. The three of us never tired of each other's bodies. Boomer did his part and came in one of our holes three times before daylight. I'd have liked to have repeated that night but Boomer left to join his wife in Tucson, Arizona later that week. He called it his farewell fuck. Boomer gave us a generous tip although we would have done it for nothing but for the extreme pleasure we enjoyed.

My life didn't change much until I was forty. The turnover rate of my girls was starting to make it difficult to find the right kind of girl. Some of them came to me by word of mouth, a few more from the festival in Varna but it was harder to attract young women. So at forty, I decided to change jobs. I still had a few girls that had been working for me for several years entertaining men in the complex but it was time for a change.

I opened a tourist office in Sofia, a city with a diverse and interesting history going back 7000 years. I guided day trips and provided information to travelers looking for maps, bus and train schedules, walking tours, pub crawls, restaurants, nightlife, and city historical sites. Strange to me were the most popular tours, those that dealt with the Communist era. I was well versed in that subject. My girls were given the option of being tour guides or working in the brothel but not both. Most became guides and were very good at it. They were people, people.

Not long ago I had to fire, Tsveta, our best guide. While her tour group was on an hour-long private tour of the National Museum of History, Tsveta took the opportunity to screw the bus driver while they waited on the bus. I told her she could still have a job at the brothel but not as a guide.

She decided to go out on her own, like I had done, a slut for hire. She did very well as an independent. Two years later, she took out a mortgage and bought my place turning it into a condo. Why didn't I think of that? That's Capitalism for you!