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What the fuck is my life? I was hurt, but I didn’t cry. I don’t remember the last time I cried. I just inhaled from the pipe and let clouds of air out of any hole in my body – my nose, ears, lips. I blew it upwards and formed the heart sign. I smiled, I was such a pro, maybe that’s why they left me.

It hurt because I had attached a tiny bit of my heart to it, but it didn’t hurt so much though. I was just angry because I would miss his tool. He was one hell of a guy that knew how to use that tool well. He made me scream and cry in pleasure with it.

I was just nineteen and didn’t need any makeup to glow. My lips were round and pink, my eyes, almond shaped, my nose stood just as straight as my boobs and my ass lobes always made sensory rhythmic movements whenever I moved. Therefore, I had strong hope of another, if not better.

I was out there, allowing my mind roam, with my long straight hair scattered in a way that made me look hotter and sexier when Lina came. She sat with me. I brushed the hair backwards to see her clearly.

“Someone is calling for you,” she said, handing me over two bundles of money and leaving almost immediately.

She knew the clients I dealt with – Exclusive VIP clients. I was a high class call girl.

The Exclusive club had fixed girls they go to, girls they can trust, since they are high valued people in the society. The girls maintain their secrets for a lot of cash and don’t have to sleep with a lot of guys to make ends meet.

The girls also don’t really need the brothel after having such clients as they can get enough money on their own.

I had pushed up my boobs, pulled up my shorts to show a half portion of my butt, and gone to meet my client. It was a chief and a guy in his mid-twenties, probably his son.

He guy looked shy. He stared from my nicely cut face, to the boobs almost falling out of my bra and to my swaying waist. I was sure I had struck him.

The chief was new, I had never seen him before.

“Wow,” chief said, his mouth ajar. “I asked for the best and they sent me you. I can see why.” He brought two more bundles of one thousand naira notes and dropped on the table.

“You can’t have me for the night just for this, Chief.” I made to turn. I didn’t have to chase clients, they chased me.

“What? What do you mean? Just for your honey pot? For one night.”

“There’s a reason it’s called ‘honey’ chief. You’ll know when you’re in there. Are you doubling it or not?”

The young man with him had been staring at me, I stared back at him, smiled and gave my lips a sexy bite. Instantly, he threw six more bundles on the table.

“I’ll have her,” he said.

“What?” The chief gazed at him, his brows curved and eyes widened.

Continue Reading: My Honey Pot-2

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About Successpensit

This blog is managed by Oluamara Success Nwaeze. She is a law student at the University of Nigeria. Aside blogging, she ghostwrites, creates contents and edits manuscripts. Her happiness mostly comes from food.

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