The Ballad of Jessy and Sophie

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This is my friend’s true story, written with permission and with the names changed.

I had just turned 18. My parents were devout Christians, and had suppressed me my whole life. I was forced to go to a Christian school, and only ever found contact with other human beings there, or at church. Naturally that led to rebellions, with the occasional heavy drug use, but I was so terrified of being caught that I usually ended up going by my parents’ rules, even if I hated them.

They wouldn’t even let me near a guy, to the extent that I had only had one kiss by the time I was eighteen – our mouths were open, but it lasted all of about two seconds before we were interrupted by a priest who proceeded to give a twenty minute lecture on the sanctity of marriage. By the time I was eighteen I had become extremely sexually frustrated, even more so because I knew so little about everything. I would get horny and try to masturbate, but I never orgasmed. I didn’t understand my anatomy well enough to get there. I don’t think I was even aware that I had a clit, much less a g-spot – my Christian school wouldn’t even teach evolution, let alone sex-ed.

I spent a lot of my time in my room, seeing as I was very rarely allowed out to parties or any sort of social gathering. A girl I had met at my church, who’d only been dragged along by her aunt, had bought me a laptop in secret, outraged that I wasn’t allowed to use my parents’ computer. I hid it in my room and soon became obsessed with it.

I started to play this game on my computer, called Fiesta. I designed a character, became a Crusader, and began. It was a simple game, but as a break from my closeted life, I loved it.

I remember being approached by a guy on my first quest. I don’t remember his username, just that he was a mage. He introduced himself, and acted very polite. I gave him my name, and he gave me his, and then he asked me to describe myself. I thought nothing of this, and obliged, until he asked me my bra size. I obliged anyway – 32C.

He replied with ‘hot’, and I felt a shiver go down my spine – but one of excitement, not dread or disgust. He asked me what i was wearing, and how I was sitting. He then told me to touch myself. Again I obliged, and had the most fun I’d had in that stuffy little bedroom in my entire life before that.

It very soon became a hobby. I would be chatting to three or four guys a night, masturbating long through the night. I used fingers, hair curlers, even a bottle at one point. I still didn’t know enough to be able to fully orgasm, but I had mini-climaxes that were enough for a girl as inexperienced as me.

I now think my mentality was partially a rebellion against my parents, but at the time it was all about the sex. I began to send nudes – never with my face, just of my body and pussy. I looked very young for my age, not just because I was short. I got several requests to go on Skype, all of which I declined. I was worried my face would show, and I didn’t want any record to go public.

About six months after my 18th, I met this Archer on the game called Simon. I asked him if he wanted to see a picture of me naked, to which he responded with, “well how about I get to know you a bit first?” I was shocked at this, at the idea that a guy’s first thought wasn’t just to see me naked. It drew me to him, made me curious.

He sent a link to a private chat room. We ended up talking for hours, all through the night. He turned out to be a forty-six year old man, living just outside London, where I live. We discussed everything – I remember complaining a lot about my parents, about everything. We sent each other photos, fully clothed. He was clearly older than me, but quite handsome. His hair was salt-and-pepper, with neatly shaven stubble.

At about four in the morning our talking got more sexual. We didn’t talk dirty, just about sex. He asked why I had offered to send nudes, and soon I was chatting away about my masturbation. He got me to describe my orgasms, how they felt, before soon declaring that they weren’t proper orgasms. He blamed my parents, something which I found very appealing.

I woke up the next morning to find I had fallen asleep mid-conversation, with fifteen concerned messages asking what was wrong. I sent him a deeply apologetic, even desperate message. There was no reply. He had been a good ear, and I was very attracted to him at this point, so I went to school feeling pretty shit.

I got home and, to my relief, there was a message from him. He told me no problem at all, and that he’d message me at nine that evening. I spent the whole evening in anticipation for it, excusing myself to go to bed early. I was on the website from half-eight, wishing desperately that he’d come on.

He came on at exactly nine. Pretty soon we were engrossed in conversation again. At one point I remember bringing up that I wished I had money to buy things, as my parents didn’t grant me an allowance. He suggested he gave me money, which I reluctantly refused on the grounds that I couldn’t pendik escort take something for nothing. He replied by saying he’d never said I’d do nothing.

He proposed a deal that he said would benefit everyone. He would pay me, and in return I would let him come round and teach me how to orgasm properly. He promised to get me off.

The offer seemed very tempting, not just for the money but because it sounded really exciting, but I instantly refused on the grounds that my parents (or at least one of them) were always home. To that, he suggested that he come round then, in the middle of the night, when my parents would be asleep.

Thinking back I can’t believe I risked being caught. My bedroom was in the basement, so it was far away from my parents’ on the top floor, but it was still a huge risk. It took him an hour’s drive to get to my house, during which I waited in deep anticipation. I was more horny than I had ever felt before.

I met him outside and let him in. I was wearing only a baggy t-shirt and underwear, which he seemed to like. I showed him to my room, wincing with fear at every creak of the floorboards. We got into my room, and he sat down on the bed. I stood there awkwardly. He had brought over some condoms and some booze to help us relax – I don’t remember what it was, but I glugged it down. I didn’t get drunk, I was too nervous and excited for that, but it did help me relax.

We talked for a few minutes, and then he asked me to sit down next to him. I did, and he put his leg on my thigh. My breathing was incredibly shallow as he leaned in and kissed me. I was so excited, and my clothes were off pretty quick.

He slipped a finger inside me, which somehow felt so much better than it had ever done when I’d tried it. He rubbed against my g-spot, instantly knowing where it was, while his thumb rubbed circles on my clit. This was a new type of pleasure to me, and pretty soon I was panting and sweating, draped across his lap.

After a while he lifted me off his lap and laid me on the bed, with my legs hanging over the side. He knelt on the floor and began to eat me out. This was pleasure on a whole other level, to the point where I had my panties stuffed in my mouth to stop me from squealing. I was short, so he was able to reach up and caress my boobs at the same time. My whole body was shaking and sweating as I had my first real orgasm. I felt like I was on fire.

As it died down I lay there, completely out of it, thinking I had died and gone to heaven, until I felt something push against my pussy. I looked up and there he was, naked, slowly pushing his cock into me. I bit down hard on the panties in my mouth to stop myself from screaming with pleasure. I was a virgin but it didn’t hurt, I guess because of all of my inexperienced masturbating. He began to fuck me and I felt like I was in a dream.

He loved my body, especially my breasts. It was wonderful to be wanted so badly. His dick felt huge inside me, but it also felt like it fit just right – like I was made to have his dick inside me. Every movement of his sent spasms of pleasure through me, and when he came into the condom I was already well into my second orgasm of the night. He kept going until he could go no longer, and his sweaty body collapsed down onto mine.

We lay there like that until we had fallen asleep, and I only woke again to his dick pushing into me from behind. I made no movement but to grab the panties and stuff them back into my mouth. He fucked me harder this time, and my orgasm was stronger. He came more too, I could feel it through the condom, and I fell asleep with his dick still inside me.

When I woke a third time, to my alarm this time, he had gone, but there was an envelope next to me. In the envelope there was £120 in cash and a letter. The letter went unnoticed for several minutes – I had been expecting something like a fiver for the night, so £60 per fuck was a big deal. I had never seen this much money, let alone owned it.

The letter admitted that he was a married man, but that he’d love to do it again, and would continue to pay. It also said that he knew several men who would pay too, if I was interested in expanding. “Obviously,” it read, “You could charge more if you wanted.” Just that thought alone had me hooked.

Pretty soon I was fucking several guys a week. I was on birth control, and made all my clients use condoms. Simon continued to be a regular customer, but he soon got lost in the haze of it all. I began to become known as the girl who’d do anything, and that was popular. By my nineteenth birthday, word had spread and I had fucked a total of 25 guys, 167 times (I did my own accounting, and kept track of everything). I had made a total of £17,810.

I found I had no need for a pimp. I pretended I had one, and acted out a phone call to him in front of each, so that they thought he knew where I was. I decided that just the threat of that was enough to make sure nobody harmed me in any way.

But, maybe even better than the money, was the fact maltepe escort that I loved my job. The sex was exciting, the feeling of pleasuring a guy was a great turn-on and each client was different. I had dicks ranging from 4 to 11 inches, and guys ranging from eighteen to, at one point, sixty-five.

I think it says a lot about my mum and dad’s parenting skills that they never found out that their daughter was a high-functioning whore – and it wasn’t as if I took great care. Public dealings were far from rare, even in our local park, and neither was taking clients home. But I didn’t feel I needed to sneak around, I knew my parents would never even think of it.

Three and a half months after my nineteenth birthday, I had a client in my bedroom. He wasn’t anything special, just asked for a regular fuck. My parents were out helping out a Christian group in lobbying for something to do with schools. We were on my bed, and having a good time, when the door opened.

I literally threw the guy off me in shock. My first thought was that my parents had come home early, so I was terrified. I soon saw that it was not my parents, but my friend from church, Sophie. She had clearly let herself into my house, found nobody home and went to look for me.

She looked in a state of shock, and so was I. The guy stood up, clearly pissed off. “She’s… My friend. Sorry,” I muttered to him.

“She can be the Dalai Lama for all I care. What, the Girl Who’ll Do Anything can’t finish a simple fuck?”

He swung his leg back over me and pushed me back on the bed. I was mortified, but I realised my reputation, and so all my money, was at stake. He’d paid, so he had to get his reward.

Sophie stood in the corner, looking equally mortified, as the 30-something year old man clambered on top of me and slipped his dick back into me. I was too ashamed, too scared to get any enjoyment out of it, but I had to do my job. Cringing internally, I began to moan.

Luckily it seemed that he enjoyed being watched, and a minute later he was finished. He pulled on some clothes, humming through the thick silence between me and Sophie. He pushed past her to leave, turned to me and said, ‘thanks, honey. I’ve already paid. Next time I’ll have your friend, too.” With that, he left.

The silence was strangling. I lay there, on my bed, naked and dripping with sweat, as Sophie stared at me in a state of shock. I slowly reached over, clasped my covers and pulled them over me. The moment I was no longer nude, Sophie seemed to come to life. “Jessica! Are you… You’re a… A…” She seemed lost for the word.


She choked on my response, but nodded. I dived to the foot of my bed on all fours, not caring that the covers had fallen away. “You can’t tell! Swear you won’t!”

“But…” She was still speechless. Her voice sounded raw, and unnaturally high-pitched. “Why?”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “The excitement. The money.”



Somehow, it was this that she couldn’t believe. Her face crumpled into a skeptical frown. “Twenty three thousand? No way.”

I stood up and, trying to ignore her eyes on my naked body, walked over to the drawer. I pulled out a large handbag, and emptied it onto my bed. Rolls and rolls of tens, twenties and fifties rolled out onto the bed. “Bag one of four,” I said a little smugly.

She picked up a roll and flicked through it. “This is so much… Christ Jess, I’d kill for this money!”

“Why kill when you can fuck?”

Now, honest to God (although let’s be honest in my case that phrase means fuck all), I only meant that to be ironic. But for some reason, the sentence clicked as a good idea in her head. I saw a light behind her eyes. “You mean I can join you?” I had never heard anyone sound so excited.

I know, it sounds pretty unlikely that a good Christian girl would go for this. But we weren’t good Christian girls. Strictness breeds rebellion, and we’d had strictness our whole lives. Six months ago me and her had tried speed for the first time. The month before, we’d stolen twelve CDs from a shop. This was not by any means the first sign of being bad.

But still, I was shocked. Not that she gave me much time. “C’mon it’d be fun, just us two, and I’ve had sex before, you know about Chris, and he said I was good, we’d make more money, loads more!” Her tirade continued for several minutes; she seemed breathless with excitement. Probably fear too.

And to be honest, the idea was tempting. The hardest part of my job was staying quiet about it, not telling my friends. And to have a second client, that’s double the money. We could even perform together, charge even more. I told myself it was the prospect of money that excited me, but as I began to imagine us working together I felt a familiar wetness between my legs.

Our first time together was immensely awkward, with neither of us knowing how to act around each other. The guy was a skinny, high pitched virgin, who was easily impressed. That was lucky, because kartal escort we weren’t being very impressive. I eventually settled for jerking him off and promising more next time, and after he left I sat down with Sophie. We talked about how to overcome the awkwardness, but the solution seemed simple enough. We needed to come up with a routine, a set of rules, but before that we needed to be comfortable with each other.

Give a guy two girls and the first thing he wants is to watch them go at it. So me and Sophie were gonna have to learn to get pretty close. We started off by practising kissing, each of us enjoying it much more than we let on. Pretty soon we were passionately making out on my bed, my hand up her top and caressing her boob while she moaned into my mouth. We felt each other up everywhere we could, along legs and over torsos. Sophie tried pulling my top over my head and, in her desperate fumbling, tore it, but I neither noticed nor cared. Her top followed suit and I became lost in the sensation of our naked bodies against each other, her boobs pressed into mine.

I was brought sharply back down to Earth when her hand slid down the front of my skirt. She, clearly, had had much more success with masturbation than me, because she knew exactly what to do. Pretty soon I was shrieking in orgasm as her fingers dug into my pussy. As the orgasm died down, I caught my breath and looked her in the eye. “I think we’re ready”.

So we became partners. Me and Sophie, the whores of St Genevieve’s Church. Word soon spread throughout my client base – the price has doubled, but so has the prize. In actual fact, after a few weeks the price more than doubled, as we realised the popularity of two girls at once. I was always the one willing to try more than she was, but she was catching up fast and we were both pretty liberal with what we’d do for cash. And it started rolling in. In the first two months we made £2,000 each, and in the next two the figure went up to £4,500. A website came up,, where guys would discuss their experiences with us, and from there our popularity boomed. There were no photos, but the rumours and descriptions were enough. We were the Lennon and McCartney of the whore world – we did separate work occasionally, but it was together that we were unbeatable.

We were living a double life. We had invented jobs, to explain how we were living without work. We had friends, led lives (although still smothered ones), but never went to college and never went to work. We would chill out and we would fuck, and it never got boring. The diversity of clients, from the weird to the wonderful, was huge. Each had their own set of preferences, their own way of doing things, and we soon learnt to spot them easier and easier.

So folks, that’s the background story. Not much more to say – I’m still at it at the age of 21, we both are (although we haven’t reached eight years together yet, so who knows if we’ll trump Lennon and McCartney). But what else is there to tell? Well, nothing, apart from a few interesting cases we’ve had over the years.

Two months before my twentieth birthday I got an email from a guy named Harold Matthews. He described how he was throwing his friend a birthday party, and wanted us two to be the main attraction, doing what we do best.

Now me and Sophie had taken three guys at once before, but this was a party of twenty-one guys. Not only did me and Sophie together only have six holes and four hands, so I wasn’t entirely sure how it would work, but the prospect scared me quite a bit. Still, I was known as the girl who’ll try anything, and the money they were offering… Well let’s just say they were wealthy party-goers, and even per-person the money was more than I had ever been offered.

I had a brief conversation with Sophie, but she echoed my thoughts so I replied with the positive. I asked for details of the day, anything we should wear. He just said to turn up at the given time, and to put on a show.

The address he gave was a small hall, which could be rented out for social gatherings. I arrived with Sophie just before midday. The hall had a stage on one side and chairs along the edges, but apart from that it was bare. There was nobody there – the guy had emailed to say they would arrive at noon, so for us to get there early and prepare.

“Prepare.” Neither of us knew what that meant, exactly. We had no idea what they were expecting. All we knew is that we were to put on a show for the birthday boy. So we did what any rational, whore duo would do in that situation – we stripped and started making out.

Every guy likes a lesbian, right? Especially two naked lesbians, on a stage, kissing and touching each other up. At this point, sex with Sophie had become not just second nature to me, but also thoroughly enjoyable. We knew each other well, having worked with each other almost every night, and she knew exactly what to do with me. Plus, the fear of the upcoming event made it even more exhilarating, as did doing it up on a stage. I was on top of her, hands either side of her head, while her own hands explored my body and my boobs. Her fingers lightly pinched my nipples, teasing me into arousal. Our legs were intertwined, so that our clits were rubbing against each other’s thighs.

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