Sex worker Katie

I love the thrill of being a street sex worker. Risky, lowest of the sex worker league. But that sense of being fucked by strangers, young men, old men, guys just looking for a cheap thrill. I always have check ups as guys will put one on and take it off on the sly. I have been lucky with only a few serious threats. I can talk them down and pleasure them with deep throat. I take the taxi rank system - you have to take them on. I am turned by filthy guys whose cock is rank. I savour the taste as a wife whore doing as told.
I may be near Bradford in 2 weeks time and Belfast in a weeks time. Just a thought!

Harry view “I worry about K’s safety, but I enjoy sharing her with all. Never expected our lives to go this way, but sex makes the world go round


I am fortunate to a well paid professional job and and a happy wife. I had a health scare which ignited my sex drive. This was all pre-Covid. I have tried many things since, some taboo, some debauched and some dangerous. My inner slut was unleashed, driven by the desire to experience as much as possible.

So picture my emotions as I decided to enter a different world, one of random strangers, all seeking sexual satisfaction, driven by their own strong urges, each with different needs and desires, individual preferences.

A trembling Katie dressed in a short leather skirt, revealing her stockings, a black tight fitting blouse, a leather jacket, underneath a shiny yellow underwear set. I was in a trial sex worker zone in an English city. I am so nervous. H has been taking pictures of me dressed to fuck, dressed to sell my time and body. A nervous, married milf, an innocent. A couple of the neighbours had seen me leave dressed like a slut - I felt more embarrassed at this than what was about to occur.

As H drove to a site we had explored a couple of times the week before I wondered whether I could back out. It was serious stuff, fucking with strangers can be halted at any minute, but it wouldn’t be so easy if they had paid up front and I was in their car, or a room or round the back where help was not going to arrive quickly. I willingly put myself in that position.

I would just have to suck up whatever came my way - no pun Intended. To be honest, backing out was not an option, I was determined to see it through, partly cos I am stubborn but mainly it was the excitement of being paid for sex, used like a whore, no, paid as the whore I am.

H parked up and I wandered about 50 metres down the street. It was mostly commercial and industrial units. I could see the other girls, alone or in twos or threes.

I was wary of the other girls and stayed as far from them as I could. I lurked in the dark, watching the cars go by, a few slowed but didn’t stop. The girls, I saw, were dressed simply or tarty, most looked unwell, many thin and I really stood out as the middle class woman I am. It was sad to see girls working from desperation. I had never thought that for many working on the street is the shit end of a spectrum with high class 5* hotel e*****s at the other end. All trying to make a living.

But I was not doing it for the money, but because it excited me, because I could share the experience, it satisfied my desire to experience rough and dirty sex at the sharp end, knowing the risks turn me on.

I had had a couple of drinks and stuff before coming out, but my mind was clear as crystal now. I realised that I have been slipping into a lifecycle of sex with strangers when dogging, to picking up guys in bars to fuck me and now charging for sex, part of a market, each level saw me as a lower person, doggers are mostly respectful, guys in bars are pissed and pushy but usually manageable, street punters were a different breed, I guess.

I was extremely naive this first night and I have learned a lot since then. I was a proper stupid slut at first. I know to check that cars only have 1 guy, be wary of vans, get the cash up front, being clear on what has been agreed (although if I am enjoying it I will let them push on), signal H to check where the car will be going to and chat a little to suss them out, make sure they are not too high or aggressive. I thought I had a nose for trouble and apart from my experience with Mila, an Eastern European pimp who took a shine to me, I have been ok. I was working on Milas girls’ patch and had been denting profits. He made me pay my debt off, and I couldn’t really go to the police as it would be embarrassing and what would they do?

The other girls were wary of me, too new to be real, assumed I was with the police. It was only when they saw me getting into a few cars with punters that they realised I was working the streets and that was when I began to get hassle.

I realised that it was different for me. For them with 5,6, 7 punters a night, they zoned out from the sex while for me, each experience was memorable. I savoured every moment, feeling alive in a way I rarely do anywhere else.

Anyway back to my first punter. I was anxious, trembling, but I also felt incredibly horny, as if I had been given a horny bitch injection. A few cars drove back as I was hanging back from the side of the road. H messaged me and told me to move to the road side and strut my stuff, to look attitudey. He told my to make sure my blouse was open to show the bright yellow underwear and my skirt that didn’t quite meet my stocking tops.

It did the trick, and the next car slowed and stopped by me, I moved a couple of feet as the electric window wound down. He was an older guy, in joggers and long sleeved T-shirt.

“What you offering lass?” he asked

That threw me a bit, trying to work out if he meant sex or what was on offer. He looked at me and I said something like

“blow job for £15, a fuck for £25” I said

“I haven’t seen you here before” he said

“I thought you might have been the feds”

“No, I am a just a new girl on the street” I replied

“You’re really new at this aren’t you” he said “you should take care, it can be a dangerous game” ...... “
“can I get a closer look” he said as he indicated I should get into his car.
The moment of no return, I opened the door and he saw me even clearer from the car light, his eyes and smile showed me that he liked what he saw.
“Take a seat……..there’s a quiet spot round the back

I sat down legs apart, blouse undone, short skirt. I belted up out of routine.

He laughed and said “you’re married” half asking as he looked at my wedding ring, “is hubby nearby? “

“Yes” I replied

“He gets off on you fucking other guys” he laughed, “lucky me”

He drove for about 10 minutes to a long country lane known for its after dark activity. He asked me lots of questions about my life style. I undid my belt and leaned over as he leaned back to start fondling his trousers - stiffy building- and to allow me to rub and lick it. I undid his joggers as he shuffled to give me space to work. His seat went back a long way and with a few seconds my mouth was wrapped around his cock. The taste was a little gamey and he had a foreskin. I was savouring with my tongue but he was impatient

He pushed my head down and tried to push his cock down my throat, I resisted a little and he pushed a little harder. I started scr****g my nails on his balls and his push eased. I could feel how hard his cock was and the leaking of pre cum.

He pulled me over in such a way that it was obvious that he wanted me to ride his cock. Luckily it was roomy enough, he knew that, but I thought it was too tight. I hitched my skirt up and within moments I was riding his cock as he was not in a position to thrust hard. It is easy to ride a stiff cock and his boner was like rock. I was getting really turned on, my first fuck as a street prostitute, what a filthy whore I am, I thought. He was holding me in position to maximise my riding him, fucking hell it was good with me doing all the work and I couldn’t stop. My god, it was fucking good, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I called out. He exploded inside me and I realised I had not put a condom on- too late now.

“You are a horny bitch aren’t you” he said “you were really turned on weren’t you, you filthy slut”

As we drove back has asked me for my number, which I gave and I was back on the street. Just before he dropped me off he asked me if I had forgotten anything. I didn’t know what he meant until it dawned on me that he had not paid. He smirked, handing me £25,

Back on the street, I felt exhilarated. I was standing with cum leaking out of my cunt and ready for my second punter. More to follow