What’s Her Price

I would like to say I had a sob story, but like most people I am over dramatic about my own life. I grew up in a good home, until my parents divorced when I was in 6th grade. While my parents were both supportive and loving, I lived with my mother and missed out on a lot of Man time with my dad, so I never learned the unlimited self confidence a lot of guys have. I have seen many guys who were ugly, broke and balding still have no trouble going up to any woman they liked. I wish that was me. I had two girlfriends in high school, a couple in college and a couple through the years.

I am a pretty handsome guy I have always been told, and I have great hair and eyes. The relationships I had were fine, but most were relatively short lived. The longest one was a year or so and she had checked out a few months earlier. The issue of my low self confidence was partly not having my pop around a lot, partly due to never being good at earning money, partly due to being to smart for my own good (and talking myself out of things) and partly just my introverted personality.

Once I was comfortable I could chat up almost anyone, but for some reason, even now, at 42 I got tongue tied and nervous around pretty women, especially the younger ones. I would see the local college girls often on my walks around town and I wished somehow I could get one. I didn’t want a whore, though I did turn there for a while. I usually went off Craigslist, and then Backpage because it seemed to be the only place young ladies could be found. While I am decently handsome, I have never been much of a workout guy. I was a bit soft all around, a few extra pounds but not much. I am only about 5 foot 8 and my dick, while a decent almost 7 inches erect, was a grower and not a show-er, and it matters. Or seems too.

I had impressed a few women in my time, and once a pretty hot one but when they saw my small size flaccid, it killed enthusiasm. One expensive hooker, the one time I blew my Christmas bonus, did an over night. We had a decent first run and the next morning as we awoke she said she had a Christmas present for me and pulled the sheets down to blow me only to stare at my barely 2 and a half inch softy and suddenly didn’t seem to want to touch it. Though she knew I had decent length hard, again, it seemed to matter. So while I had dated a few women and seen a few hookers, no one ever seemed impressed by my bedroom talents. They seemed to like me, but something was missing. For a while I was visiting some Asian massage parlors, and through the thin walls I could hear some gals moaning from the good fucking they were getting. They never made noise with me, even if I could tell they liked who I was, I wasn’t getting anyone off.

That further deflated my confidence and left me 42, with a shitty job, no real prospects and a sadness that I would never have a woman I really wanted. A young, sexy, feminine bombshell. Even the hot women hookers I had seen were obviously in their late twenties or possibly even the early 30’s. That was annoying.

Then the next year, everything broke my way. I had been writing a novel in the evenings and weekends and when I finally finished and sent to publishers I was elated that one decided to ink a deal with me for royalties and a initial payment of $50,000. I quit my job to write more and the royalties from my first book started to roll in. I continued to frequent the AMP’s, as I really dug Asian women and they usually seemed to be at least under 30 years old in those places. But it was still a very detached sex life and even with my success now and a career I could be proud of, I still didn’t feel very confident. Later that same year my book crossed a sales threshold and they asked for a sequel and offered me a $300,000 signing bonus.

That was wonderful but after my student loans, credit cards, a new modest car and a 3 bedroom home bought free and clear, I was broke again, though the royalties kept me at about $2400 a month. I finally got the second book finished and this one was an instant hit. I got a better royalties deal this time and while I was hopeful for another nice bonus for the third book, at least my monthly stipend was closer to $4000 a month.

That was when the website What’s Your Price got my attention. If you don’t know, it is a site where women can auction themselves off for a date. You probably think what I did: some hot young college coeds who need money, and know they have a valuable asset sell a night or hour or however long of passion in exchange for a nice sized cash payment. I was excited when I found the site. I thought I could finally get the kind of pussy I really wanted, and had plenty of money to burn. I bought a new suit and took some pictures and mentioned that I had plenty of money to play with. At first I was kind of disappointed as most of the women rejected my flirts, apparently they wanted marriage minded men who were gorgeous and rich. Really rich. I could give them $500 for a good time but they wanted ongoing relationships for $1000’s a month. The really attractive ones even wanted a base AND extra for every meet up, not to mention an apartment.

Though frustrated I kept at it and finally found two different women. One was a mixed French and Filipino and the other was a Latina, both were insanely attractive. The first was only 18 and the other was 22. Suffice to say, I was incredibly excited going to both dates as I figured after a nice dinner I would get to fuck these beauties and maybe get an ongoing thing going if the price was right. Instead, both dinners were an hour and a half or so at a very pricey restaurant and they $300 and $400 price I agreed to was what they demanded just for the date. The first one, the half Asian, seemed bored the whole time and as soon as her dinner came she scarfed it down and grabbed the envelope and left saying maybe we would meet up again. But we didn’t.

The second gal I wised up a bit. I told her she had to give me her phone number first. She did and we talked a few times on the phone. I told her in no uncertain times that I was willing to do $600 flat for the date but it was entirely dependent on her coming back home with me. She told me that was fine but that I had to bring the money to dinner to prove I had it, she was afraid of getting stiffed. The first gal had been pretty, though she was obviously using photos from a few years ago, and had used flattering angles and maybe even photoshop as her skin was just average. But this second girl, the Latina, she was the real deal. Five foot two, thicker but fit as could be. Long jet black hair, big eyes, typical outstanding Hispanic breasts that threatened to pop out of her top, which was very tight and low cut black mesh, and her tanned brown legs in high black heels in a black mini skirt floored me.

We met at the bar, where my shyness was instantly taking over and there is no doubt in my mind she quickly knew she had the upper hand.