Hooker Addiction

So my whole life I had this weird fetish. With my upbringing, how I was taught, I had subdued this fetish for the longest. And I am not sure if it is a fetish, or more wicked curiosity spurned onto me from watching porn. I remember the first time I sorta discovered my predilection for this sorta porn. It was when I was eighteen years old. I had clicked the wrong video and before I realized my mistake it was too late. I busted my load to watching a guy get fucked up the ass by some big dicked girl.

Afterwards I felt sick. Dirty. Humiliated. I questioned everything about myself. What did this say about me? Watching some poor guy get… fucked… by a huge cock… Even if the cock was attached to a gorgeous woman, it was still a cock. I didn’t even look at porn for over a week, which is a lot for a horned up teenager.

It wasn’t until my thirties that I found myself perusing the old seas again, letting my dormant desires get the best of me. I didn’t want to, but my brain kept trailing back to that ultimate fantasy. But I couldn’t put a finger on why? I surely wasn’t gay? Just looking around the bar after work would confirm as much. I liked women. Thick, petite, big chested or slender. I liked them all. I loved women, more than my upbringing perhaps allowed me too. I know it may sound like I grew up in a monastery, but honestly I wasn’t. Sure it was on the conservative side, but it wasn’t completely deep-fried either. It was just that sex wasn’t something discussed nor glorified in my household coming up as a teenager. Most of what I learned about sex was from school and from porn.

Mostly I had been able to ignore this side of me, but as I passed thirty, it had sort of resurfaced. I had a stable job at a law firm. I had a nice suburban house in the small cozy town of Courtington, just an hour or so south of Indianapolis. But as my twenties had been consumed by dedicated academics and by my career, so much else about me had been suppressed.

My fetishes couldn’t escape me. Or was it truly a fetish? Maybe it was more of a curiosity. This had been my conclusion before. Dickgirls, shemales. Futanaris. Girls with huge pounding cocks, ramming and punishing innocent poor victims. Jesus save me. I can’t keep having these thoughts!

One day I found myself looking for that old video I had been watching way back when, and just like that the flood gates were open. I didn’t find the video in particular, but in the process of searching I had opened thousands of tabs with dickgirl porn in various forms. I read and watched so much filth. It started with dildos and toys. Then pegging. Pegging with viler and viler dildos. Men and women getting flogged alike. Then some shemale on girl action, then with men, and so on. With each time I stroked it to some good futa porn, I dove deeper into the futa hole.

Something that always came reeling in with each time I dove deeper was a huge pit of shame. Shame that I, Scott Rivers, would even watch such shit. Filth, as I said. It was so far beyond what someone like me should be into. I was on my way to a good career in administrative law. I had a good baptist christian upbringing, though I went to catholic school. I was better than this! What would my colleagues think? My dad? My mom?

In the end, curiosity got the best of me. One rabbit hole led to another and soon I found myself subscribing to one particular futagirl’s OnlyFans account. Some might say it was a giant leap in terms of how far I had fallen, but in a slow process over months it was just a small step. I was a huge porn connoisseur, don’t get me wrong, but I had actually never paid for porn before. Even that was a trip for me. As a matter of fact, I didn’t really spend that much money on anything. Yet here I was. Paying ten bucks a month to get exclusive content of a dickgirl.

I had found her on PornHub where she posted snippets, and had binged a series of videos of this one particular chick who went by the alias of Hunter. She posted mostly videos of her masked banging away at some lucky guy or girl. Some of them were more brutal, some on the tamer side. But when I really needed to bust after a long tedious session, I always had her brutal ones ready on hand.

One interesting fact I learned when I subscribed to her OnlyFans: she was actually getting paid by the men in the videos. Meaning, they paid to get fucked and be recorded. No doubt part of the humiliation. Certainly it was doubling her profit. “That’s so fucking sick,” I thought as I stroked myself. “Ngh uh, so pa-pathetic. I’d ne-never!” I was watching Hunter’s masked latina face bang away. She was so fucking hot. Big juicy hips and ass, good set of tits. All shining in sweat as she almost boringly thrusted and scolded away at this crying and whimpering young man. “Yeah? You liked that dick? You like paying to get fucked?” Hunter groaned on the video.

“I’d never pay for something like that,” I thought, sweat pouring down my face. “Heh, never.”

Yet it was such a turn on. Driving me nuts, stoking a raging fire within me. It was hard to think it was even real. While I watched Hunter’s big ass flex with each thrust, scolding the poor man for paying her, it was hard to wrap my brain around the reality of this. There was no way these participants were not actors, or something. There is no way people were actually so depraved that they’d pay to get fucked and humiliated to such a degree on video, which she would later make even more money on by posting it on her OnlyFans for others to see. Like me. Maybe it was part of the fetish for some. The risk. The humiliation. The fact that they were paying for their own punishment and loving it.

“Fuck, if I ever, I want it to be her to take my ass for the first time. No holds bar. Fucking pay her to me. Ungh. That’d be so hot. Some paid hooker taking my virginity-oh ffffuuuck,” my depraved brain as I was reaching my climax. After, in my post-nut clarity, I again felt sick felt sick for even thinking something like that.

I took a long shower, rethinking my life after such jerk off sessions.

Though, of course, I had peeked at her pricing list, which was on her personal website. But just to see what these sick people put on the table. Yes. That is why. She had several items on her menu, and all of it seemed pretty pricey to be honest. My eyes scanned down the list, stopping at a few to get a gist of what it was all about. Just to sate my curiosity what these pathetic guys let themselves get into.

Some were on the ‘tamer’ side. “Blow job - 100$”. That was the starting point. I’d never suck a dick though. Or maybe it was the customer who’d get his dick sucked? Knowing Hunter, it was probably the former… fuck, I was starting to feel things in my dick again…

I scrolled down further. “1 hour no holds barred - 1000$.” One thousand bucks to get fucked to Hunter’s pleasure and fortune. What in the actual fuck?! Anyway, another that was of the even more options; “The Fuck Toy Package.” This was basically a month where Hunter would just show up at your location and fuck you whenever she felt like it. And there was no backing out once you made the purchase. She even had you sign a legally binding contract. Hah! No way. I’d never do something like that! None of these options were ever going to happen. Besides, 20 000 United States Dollars? For that? Pff. To get treated like a fuck toy, like a slut, whenever she felt like it? What if you were in public? At work? Dining with your family? Pff, come on now. That could neeever happen!

Besides, all of it seemed to be recorded for potential future content… And there was extra if you wanted her raw… but that's besides the point.

I scrolled back up again. “15 minutes of fucking. One position. - 250$.” Plus extra without a condom. This was Hunter’s most purchased item, the website said. “Well, 250 isn’t too bad if you’re just curious,” I mused. “Wait, what am I even thinking here? This isn’t happening, Scott. Fantasy is one thing, but doing it is something completely different.”

I realized I was scared even at the prospect of considering the idea. The mere fact I even had weighed the prize was something I was terrified by. But also a huge part of me was undeniably intrigued. Best shove aaall those thoughts somewhere else before I did something stupid. I closed my browser and logged off for the night.