My name is Lydia, and I’m a Philadelphia prostitute. All of my customers are long time regulars with a few referrals from time to time to maintain a full clientele. They’re all professional men, mostly married and wealthy.
I weeded out the weirdos a long time ago except one client who I originally thought of as a weirdo but have now upgraded to an eccentric. Reggie is a rich artist, or at least he fancies himself as an artist. I always feel I should pay him instead.
He owns this huge old Victorian mansion, and he’s modified the inside so that the downstairs is almost one big room, sort of like a ballroom.
I show up at the appointed hour dressed like I’m going to one of those Southern plantation balls like in Gone with the Wind. He leads me to the middle of the room so that I’m standing in the middle of a huge piece of heavy duty white paper.
He strokes my arms and runs his hands down my sides and comments on the swell of my hips and how beautiful I am. We kiss, long lingering romantic kisses like we’re lovers on a hormone high.
Next he poses me like a fashion model. He takes a long time to do this as he keeps changing my position, and all the while he is telling me how I’m the center of the universe, how my clothes accentuate my natural beauty, how soft I am all in a very elegant and cultured manner. He makes me feel like I really am the center of the universe. Then he excuses himself and tells me to hold my position. I’m most careful to do so.
While he’s gone I always admire the room. The d cor is very expensive and tastefully done. The windows are covered with beautiful drapes that draw everything together.
The walls are hung with his artwork, many which have me as the subject, although some have other beautiful women in them. I assume he inherited his wealth, as I can’t believe he’s making a living selling his work.
Hanging from the ceiling is a very large camera. It has a huge bulging lens as big as a softball and is mounted on a rail that runs around the ceiling and down the walls, and it can rotate around and extend up and down. He controls it with a remote, and when it moves it makes very little noise.
There are dozens and dozens of lights and spotlights fixed all around the walls and ceiling. Some lights, although in the walls, are right down next to the floor. And despite their utilitarian purpose, they mesh very nicely with the d cor. I thought he was gay the first time I came here, although he’s definitely proved his interest in women since then!
He always returns with a crisp cold glass of my favorite white wine. Then, still standing in the middle of that sheet of paper, we drink and chat and he continues to admire me and compliment my body in the most outrageous ,flowery language. You can see why I feel I should pay him.
Then he helps me to undress, which we do in the slow seductive way that you see women doing in movies. Next he lays me down right in the middle of the paper and positions my arms and legs just how he wants them.
In every shot, my shaved pussy is positioned to the camera’s best advantage. He has a special pillow, which fits under my back and bulges up under my ass in such a way that it causes my cunt to be better displayed when I spread my legs.
He starts to run his hands, which he has somehow warmed, all around my cunt and my clit. When I am warmed up enough from that he starts to lick my clit, which he does with real enthusiasm. I’m most turned on by being dominated, but on occasion getting upgraded to princess is very, very satisfying. Then he begins to fuck me.
He has a big, thick, very hard cock just the kind I love to suck and spread my legs for. He rubs my clit with it and then pushes in about halfway until I begin to moan and push my pelvis forward trying to get more of it.
After teasing me until my writhing and moaning are more like begging, he drives that glorious cock into me and begins pounding my cunt. In only a few minutes he recognizes I’m starting to come and he pulls out, leaving me crying out for more. I know he does this to get my body excited and turned on for the camera.
Now comes the strange but deliciously erotic part. He does a last positioning of my arms and legs and picks up a brush in each hand. He has plastic pails of colored paint, which is water soluble and non toxic, sitting all around the edges of the piece of paper I’m displayed on. He has dozens of brushes, some of which are as big as the ones used by house painters and go down in size from there. Then using me as the centerpiece he paints an abstract picture on that paper. I must not move which isn’t always comfortable, but I know how to be disciplined.
He will take a brush and starting from the middle of my tits he paints down over my cunt out onto the paper, making swirls and curlicues and other designs. My arm may be next, and then maybe a leg, all painted in different colors with different sizes of brushes. He has warmed the paint so the bristles feel very erotic as they brush over me. He paints from my head to my toes, slowly tickling me with the brush until I can barely breathe, I’m trying so hard to stay still.
Sometimes he ignores me and paints just on the paper, but the lines are there to draw the eye toward the center. About this time I am feeling absolutely, delightfully vain. He continues to compliment me, repeating over and over how beautiful and perfect my body is. It’s so wonderful being the center of attention that I quickly forget the weirdness of my situation.
Sometimes he’ll fan my hair out into and begin his next paint line from my forehead going over my hair onto the paper. He takes small brushes and starts at one of my nipples and goes around my breast, down my side, and out onto the paper. He tiptoes around me many times, deciding if more lines are needed but eventually he’s finished. Then he takes photos.
For each photo he uses different lights and camera angles that cause the position of my body to make shadows. They somehow accentuate the lines and colors he has already painted onto the paper and onto me. He also changes the camera’s lenses, some of which are colored, with his remote. It’s really quite extraordinary.
Now he undresses completely. His cock is erect and he looks me right in the eye and says, “This time, my little whore, I’m going to fuck you until you come hard.”
And does he ever. He fucks me skillfully, lovingly, and yet ferociously, until I can’t stop coming. Then we roll around on the paper, getting totally covered in paint. I laugh and laugh but he just holds me tight and rubs his hands all over my body as he moans in complete satisfaction.
We clean up in his shower, which is big enough for four people. We rub each other all over with fragrant soap, slipping a finger in here and there, playing with each other’s bodies until we’re just one big soapy, lusty pile on the floor, humping and writhing.
After we get out of the shower we enjoy another refreshing glass of white wine, and then I suck him until his cock starts to throb and grow larger. Then he holds my head in both hands and fucks my mouth.
As he gets close to coming I can sense that final, slight hardening of his cock. As he drives it down my throat I know I’ve done my usual good job and I swallow his semen, feeling the pulsing of his hard cock against the walls of my throat and tongue.
If I’m lucky, we’ll rest a few minutes, then he’ll get hard again as I whisper all the dirty things I want to do him, and he’ll fuck me one last time on the soft rug on the bathroom floor. This time it’s slow, intense, and mind shattering, the kind of fucking you wish you could have every day of your life.
I go home very satisfied. By now I’ve changed out of my hoopskirts and into normal clothes. Is this guy pleasantly eccentric or what? However, he won’t give me a copy of any of the photos he has taken of me in every character I can play, from slave to helpless young girl, even though I’ve begged him.
Although this letter doesn’t include a photo, you can see that being a whore does have its rewards. C.C., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania