When I first arrived in Mexico City as a model, a photographer told me that every model was also, at best, an escort. I dismissed this as a cynical comment from a bitter person. But I was naive!

I was a fairly established model with one of the better agencies, and yet even for me the numbers just didn't add up. There were far too many models for the amount of jobs available, and the jobs you did get didn't pay enough.I saw the other models posting pictures from yachts in Baja, and the slopes of Aspen, wearing  Versace dresses and eating in the most expensive restaurants in Polanco. I'm no mathematician, but one job a month for $150 doesn't deliver you that!

My agency recommended that I signed on for 'image' work to help subsidise my income. This was sold to me as promotions work for clubs and restaurants. You go for the evening, look pretty, get a some free drinks and a bit of cash on your pocket.

What they didn't tell you was the real money was made by going home with whichever Mexican banker or gringo tourist liked the look of you.This came as a bit of a shock the first time. I saw several of the girls i'd arrived with get led off to back rooms and come back 15 minutes later looking slight disheveled.

But I am not too proud to admit, that I was soon part of this.We'd fuck anywhere and with anyone who had the money.

I had a standard rate for sex, extra to not use a condom, extra for anal (which i preferred anyway). A price to cum in my mouth, double the money if a group wanted to fuck me. Extra if they wanted to me to stay the night and fuck again in the morning. Everything had a price.I preferred to sleep in my own bed, so if i could i'd just fuck in the bathrooms of wherever we were.

Some of even the most reputable restaurants were completely set up for this. There would be rooms upstairs. One night I was taken up there by one guy, and there were several more already there, and they all just fucked me. I made my months money on less than an hour.

But half the girls wanted this lifestyle and didn't want to give it up. Getting taken off to places at weekends and dressed in expensive clothes. And all they had to do was open their legs.

One of the girls had reluctantly got herself a boyfriend and was disappointed that she could no longer go the 'holidays' to Europe with the rest of her hooker friends.I managed to get a few regular clients, so stopped having to work the clubs. I'd be booked for an evening or two a week, and most of the time I didn't need to be seen out with my the clients.

And whilst the guys who fucked me in the clubs were odious, the regulars I ended up with were not bad guys. Most of them were investors or bankers who travelled a lot and didn't want the bother or expense of girlfriends. It was cheaper and less hassle to just pay me. So they'd book me in when they were coming into town. Get their 'relief' inside me, then carry on with their business.

So this is how my 'modelling career' continued for the rest of that year. Photoshoots by day, hotel rooms by night. And whilst it paid my rent, it came at a price. I've not have a real relationship in more than two years since i stopped doing this, and now I've seen this side of guys, I'm not sure how i'll be able to again. But we will see.

So guys, while you are sticking your cock down the throat of some little model you passed $50 to, please try and remember this is a real person who is doing this because she is desperate. Try to treat her with some respect. She is a real person and has given up a huge part of herself for your moment of pleasure!