CutiePie1997
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2016
- Posts
- 1,402
"The High School Hookers Club"
(see bottom for information about joining)
NOTE:
This is the Main IC Thread (the parent thread).
There will be many other 1x1 threads which include
the scenes of sex, conversation, and other drama
that occur between just 2 or 3 characters and, thus,
are easier to both write and read if written as 1x1s.
I encourage you to subscribe to this and all subsequent threads
as they appear ... and enjoy.
(see bottom for information about joining)
NOTE:
This is the Main IC Thread (the parent thread).
There will be many other 1x1 threads which include
the scenes of sex, conversation, and other drama
that occur between just 2 or 3 characters and, thus,
are easier to both write and read if written as 1x1s.
I encourage you to subscribe to this and all subsequent threads
as they appear ... and enjoy.
Pamela Dryer
18 years old (turns 19 December 12, 2016)
Junior, Harrison High School. (Was set back twice. See her profile for details.)
5'8", 125 lbs.
34B-24-35.
Dark brown hair, wavy to her scapula (or breasts).
Dark brown eyes.
(pic in post below)
In the upstairs bathroom of the elegant, modern home, Pamela's smart phone chimed for her attention. She swiped, tapped, and swiped again until she was looking at the proof of the recent deposit of $300 into her account. She smiled, pleased, and returned the phone to her purse. Shedding her bra and skirt, retaining only her semi-sheer, white blouse, conservative black panties, and three inch heels, she exited out onto the landing...

The man at the bottom of the stairs was finishing a call on his own cell. He pocketed the phone and smiled as he looked her up and down, saying as he had so many times before, "Simply beautiful."
"Thank you, Timothy," Pamela said, smiling widely as she curled a finger in invitation at him. He didn't race up the stairs, but there was a sense of urgency in his step. She walked slowly toward the bedroom with a conspicuous sway in her hips. When he caught up with her, Pamela reached to his tie, beginning to undress him as she asked, "The usual tonight?"
The client laughed with delight, again complimenting Pamela with, "Nothing you have ever done with ... for ... or to me ... could be called usual."
She only smiled with her own delight, finished undressing the man, and gave him every dollar's worth.
Three hours later, Pamela was showered and again dressed. When she returned to his bedroom, finding him laying back in a deep stack of pillows with a pleased smile, he told her, "You were incredible tonight."
"So were you," Pamela said, leaning down to kiss him passionately. When he laughed and stated his doubt about having pleased the professional, Pamela kissed him again and promised in a reassuring whisper, "I cum every time I'm with you, Timothy. It's why I give you a discount."
"Discount!" he said, laughing playfully. "If what I pay is a discount, I hate to think of what the others fork out."
She smiled as she stood to check herself in the mirror. As she watched for his reaction, Pamela lied, "There are no others, Timothy. You know you're my one and only."
He just laughed again, knowing better.
Timothy was what Pamela called a Trusted Client. Twice a month -- once if he hadn't been with anyone else, which was an issue of trust between them -- he went to a doctor Pamela had chosen herself to ensure that he was still clean. He paid cash out of pocket for the check up, then paid Pamela an extra $100; and for that he avoided having to wear condoms and got to dispense his ejaculate into any of the teen's three holes, though -- with the exception of one night of experimentation -- he'd only ever played about in the usual two.
Pamela kissed him one more time, made a date for next week when his wife would again be out of town, donned a long coat that covered her conservatively to her knees, then made her way out to her car. Pamela now carried a briefcase sporting the very conspicuous logo of a local real estate company, in case the neighbors were spying and wondering the identity of the young woman exiting the McMansion.
Forty minutes later, a Valet was taking her keys at a downtown luxury hotel where she had her second date of the night. The payment she'd verified earlier that evening hadn't been from the man she'd just serviced for the umpteenth time but had instead been from the man she was about to please for the first time. She knocked at the door of and entered a room on the 12th floor...
...and 70 minutes later she was once again leaving, having performed the most basic of packages, a simple suck'n'fuck with protection. The man was very happy with the service and arranged another date for the upcoming weekend, but when he reached for his wallet to fish out a gratuity, Pamela stopped him short of pulling out the hundred dollar bills.
"Talk to your friend," she corrected, telling him vaguely, "There is a protocol."
Pamela was again out a door after having made a man very satisfied, and 70 minutes later she was passing through the security entrance of the estate on which she lived...

She slowed almost to a stop as the security guard politely waved her down. She said with an expectant tone, "Don't tell me, Mister Crocker is home and wants me to join him for dinner?"
The guard just smiled, adding the all important detail, "Missus Crocker's still in New York."
"Thanks, Jake," she told him, blowing him a kiss before reminding him, "Ball game Thursday, don't forget."
Pamela shot the car forward and turned it sharply into what amounted to being her own personal driveway. She swung the car into one side of her two car garage, next to her toys, the Red Rocket and the Miss Piggy (aka The Hog) that were her more preferred rides. She headed inside for her third shower of the day, got in a short nap, then dressed casually for a visit to the estate's owner.
"Hey, Harvey," she greeted as she made her way out onto his patio, finding him looking out upon the vast Pacific Ocean as he did most evenings. By now the sun had fallen below the watery horizon, flooding the sky with oranges and reds. "Another beautiful night--"
"You have to leave, Pam," her patron cut in, his tone showing signs of regret. He continued, "I'm selling the house."
When Pamela circled around to face Harvey, her eyes wide with surprise, he clarified, "Brigitte and I bought a house in Naples ... a boat ... a big boat. She wants to go home to see her parents before the old Italian fucks fall over dead."
"How long do I have?" Pamela asked, the shock evident in her tone. "When do I have to be out?"
He continued, "I've made some arrangements--"
"How long?" she snapped, feeling her face beginning to burn. "How long before you kick me out on the street, Harvey?"
"Pamela, I'm hardly kicking you out into the streets," he said chuckling. He sat forward to retrieve a manila envelope from the glass patio table and toss it closer to her. "Lease agreement, six months ... nice apartment downtown ... cashier's check for--"
"Take me with you, Harvey," Pamela said, moving close and dropping to her knees beside him. Reaching inside the loosely buttoned shirt, she began caressing a hand over his hairy chest as she said seductively, "You don't want to be without me, Harvey. You can't be without me. You know that."
"Brigitte has allowed you to stay here, Pamela ... to share my bed when she's out of town," he began, reaching a hand out to caress Pamela's face, "because she has no interest in having me sweatin' between her thighs anymore. But ... she's not going to let you follow us to Italy ... to continue sucking my knob in the home where her very Catholic family has lived for nine generations."
By now, Pamela's eyes were glistening with tears. She would wonder later why she was crying. Was it despair of losing the man who had taken her in off the streets when she was only 14, giving her a safe, loving place to live and -- when she came of age -- setting her on a career path that had served her very well? Or was it fear of simply being on her own for the first time in her adult life?
"Brigitte's in New York now, heading for Naples on Saturday," he continued, answering the question about how long she had. "She'll be back in three weeks."
He tried to smile with confidence, but Harvey had some of the same reservations that Pamela had. He took her hands into his, squeezing them as he reassured her, "You'll be fine, Sunshine. You're a smart girl. You have some money stuck aside in addition to what I am leaving you ... a place to sleep ... transportation. Next year, you'll graduate and go off to University ... find something to do that doesn't involve taking your clothes off with strangers."
"I like taking my clothes off with strangers," Pamela said with a combination of humor and defiance. After they laughed together a moment, she said softly, "I like taking my clothes off with you."
"I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn ... business in Tokyo, ten days," he told Pamela, pulling her closer. He kissed her softly, then erotically, and finished, "It would be better if you were out by then. But ... one last time, maybe?"
Pamela kissed Harvey again, telling she loved him more than anyone she'd ever known ... before taking him to his bed to give him a night of sex he wouldn't forget, even halfway around the world...
Pamela slept in to avoid having to say goodbye to her host, then skipped school for the remainder of the day. She spent the time just sitting in her room or laying in a lounger on Harvey's private section of beach, contemplating her future. The next morning, a Friday, Pamela awoke before dawn to shower, dress, and prissy herself for school, donning the school uniform. She'd altered it just a bit to increase its sexiness, something the Vice Principal for Student Discipline only tolerated because he liked having something to fantasize about when he masturbated in the Staff bathroom at lunch each day...

Her friends knew when she was in a fuck off mood, so other than just stick close to her silently should she need someone to talk to, they pretty much stayed out of her way. It wasn't until the end of the day as she and several others were heading for the parking lot that one of Pamela's friends asked, "Did you hear about Mister Boggs?"
"What about him?" Pamela asked, not entirely enthused by the topic. "Or should I ask who's claiming to be sucking his cock now?"
Tyler Boggs was Harrison High's History and US Government teacher; and he was the lust object of half the girls in school, with at least one a week claiming to have made a connection with him. Pamela had caught him glancing at tight asses and boosted bosoms on occasion, but hell, all the male -- and even half the female teachers -- ogled the sexiest of the school's female student body from time to time. Other than that, Pamela hadn't heard anything legitimate to make her think the teacher was getting his cock wet in young, tight, student pussy.
Tyler had been a professional athlete once, a football player Pamela thought she recalled, before becoming a teacher. Why anyone would give up a career in sports to teach spoiled rich kids she just couldn't even imagine. It was akin to her giving up $300/hour Johns, four star restaurants, and luxurious hotel rooms for grabbing teenage boys, McDonalds, and back seats.
He was also one of the school's many football coaches, which tended to draw more girls to the stadium than the games themselves or the boys playing them. Because of her career and the fact that most football games were played on Friday night, Pamela hadn't been to a single football game during her high school career. But she had been up close to Mister Boggs many times, sometimes in the school's halls, other times out near the football field. And she could definitely see why the girls of the school would wet their panties at the sight of him...

Pamela might have made a play for him if she'd been one of the other girls. But she had needs, particularly now that she was going to soon be facing expenses that Harvey had covered for more than 4 years. The men Pamela spent time with paid more money to spend a single hour with her than Tyler Boggs netted in a full eight hour day of teaching history and government. He had nothing for her, could do nothing for her, and was of no value to her...
...or so she thought.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
About Group Role Plays:
- Many people won't join a Group Role Play (GRP) because:
- Writers won't keep pace, causing havoc with the time line.
- Writers disappear, abandoning entire plot lines.
- Or pairs of writers writing 1x1s leap frog one another's posts, making reading the story difficult.
- I have a solution to all three of these dangers:
- This thread is the Main Thread. Introductions, recruitment, and non-sex scene activities will be posted here.
- However, 1x1 interactions -- lengthy conversations, sex, etc. -- will occur in separate threads linked to this thread.
- Therefore, there will be no leap frogging of unrelated 1x1s in this thread.
- Reading and writing will both be easier.
- And, although I would like to see you do it, you are certainly not required to read each and every thread to be able to follow the main story.
About Hookers:
- Our hookers are all initially 18-20 years old.
- They are students from the Harrison High Preparatory School, a school for girls readying themselves for college.
- They can initially be virgins, sluts, or anything in between.
- Though some may be reluctant, none are forced or blackmailed into prostitution.
- They are tightly supervised until Pamela not only trusts them to do their jobs but also trusts them to handle what is being done to them.
- Hookers can be long or short term characters.
About Johns:
- Let me be clear:
- These are not drug addicted street walkers. They are students from a respectable invitation-only college prep school.
- I have already received dozens of PMs from males who want to blackmail, abuse, and/or otherwise control my girls.
- This is not that role play, so ... look elsewhere for that.
- There will be opportunities for some negative drama as time goes on, but those situations will be far and few between, and they likely won't occur until the story is well established, so ... 2017 or 2018.
- Johns learn of the Club by word-of-mouth advertising from friends who are current clients. Therefore, you can pretty much forget story lines that begin in any other way, such as picking up on a random hooker at a hotel lounge bar.
- Writers can play more than one John, but if you overextend yourself and slow us down, I will ask you to abandon character(s).
About sex scene length and the balance of story versus sex:
- Other female writers can do what they want, but the comments below are about me.
- Sex scenes in which I write will be over quickly, perhaps 4-8 posts each, unless a fantasy of sorts if being played out and requires more replies.
- I don't go on and on and on with every thrust and moan and scream.
- If you are wanting a 40 post blow-by-blow, you will need to find another writer.
- Also, I don't write the same sex over and over again. Unless there is something new to the sexual interaction, I fade-to-black on sex scenes.
- I write erotica, not porn, meaning I write a lot of story with a little sex, not the other way around.
To Join:
- You can PM me personally if you are interested in either joining or learning more.
- If you are responding to another writer's "Seeking Writing Partner" advertisement, you still need to PM me about your plans to ensure the story line you are considering fits within the THSHC's direction.
- PLEASE do not post here without permission. I will ignore any characters not cleared with me before hand.
- Thank you very much for your understanding.
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