I consider myself a slut. But I do not try to get any monetary benefits out of it. I usually decline expensive gifts or any arrangements where a man pays a significant portion of my expenses. Otherwise, it's just not fun anymore. At least for me. I know other girls might see it differently.

But let me tell you a story where I somewhat broke this rule.

Our town has many bars, but only a couple of good ones that all locals know about. I went to one and started flirting with a bartender—I do these things almost automatically. He was interesting. While bartenders are typically young, this guy looked like he was in his early 40s, had a belly, but also a charming bearded face.

He told me he was a co-owner of the bar. I wasn't sure if it was true, but he had a smooth talk and I ended up sucking his dick in the utility room.

His cock was decent. It was thick and pulsed in my hands. The small utility room was dark and cluttered, with mops and buckets around us and a cold concrete floor.

I already had a decent blowjob repertoire. So, I opted for a "vigorous and sloppy" approach. I grabbed his thick dick firmly with one hand. With a deliberate hunger, I took him deep into my mouth. His tip hit the back of my throat.

I varied my rhythm and deliberately made slurping noises. My saliva dripped onto his balls, my chin, and the floor. My eyes watered, and my head spun a bit. But I kept the pace aggressive.

He groaned loudly. I had never heard a guy groan so shamelessly. I was a bit embarrassed and frightened that someone might hear us. It only added to the thrill.

Finally, feeling him approach climax, I pulled back and used my hands to finish him off. He came, shooting thick cum across my face.

I scooped up every drop from my face with my fingers, then licked them clean. I looked at him seductively after I finished licking all his semen from my hands.

He looked happy and satisfied.

Back at the bar, he offered me a deal: if I sucked him off every other day for the next two months, he would give me and my date a free round of drinks each time I visited his bar for the rest of my life, though not more than once per day.

I didn't respond directly.

But I fulfilled my part of the bargain. Every other day I'd go to his bar, and he'd take me to the utility room, where I'd suck him off.

Why did I do it? It wasn't for the promise of drinks. This was right after I finished university. My first job hadn't worked out, I quit and moved back with my parents. I felt miserable, useless, directionless. I didn’t know what I was doing with my life, and these blowjobs in the utility room provided some form of entertainment. I loved his satisfied smirks after making him cum.

"At least I'm good at something," I used to think.

But after that, I started avoiding that bar. I never cashed in on his part of the deal. Eventually, I kind of forgot about the whole thing.

Years passed.

Recently, my Tinder date invited me to that exact bar. I thought about suggesting a different bar but then decided that, considering how many years had passed, it likely had new owners or the guy had forgotten about it anyway.

I was wrong.

I saw the same bartender, and he smiled, recognising me. My date ordered drinks for us.

"The second round will be on us," said the bartender.

My date was surprised.

"Why? Are you a regular?" he asked.

"Not really," I answered, "A couple of years ago, I was sucking this guy's dick for two months, and now I've got a lifetime supply of free drinks."

My date laughed, thinking it was a funny lewd joke.

The bartender laughed as well.

I felt surprisingly good about myself at that moment.