Dear Justin Bieber, I’m 19 And Lost My Virginity To An Escort



BRO TO BRO DISCLAIMER: Everyone needs to shut the fuck up about Justin Bieber allegedly going to a brothel in South America and banging an escort like every other young guy with money in this world.

We rich kids feel entitled to these kind of escapades.

It’s normal, it’s in our nature. It’s not news.

We’ve always gotten what we wanted. Why don’t we just use money for sex?

I mean come on. Aren’t the bitches we’re going to marry one day going to be sucking our dick ’cause we got daddy’s cash?

I’ll pay for dinner and your Chanel bag, baby.

I just turned 19.

I’ve been thinking about sex for a while now. My brain is pretty much a Brazzers video stuck on repeat and I’ve been waiting to find the perfect girl to fuck. I don’t care about emotionally-attached sex, I just want it to be with someone hot.

I’ve been sexting this high school girl who has a boyfriend on and off, all summer. I’ve been trying to set up the perfect chance for me to fuck her, or at least get head at the park. Nothing has really happened. I don’t have a job or a big circle of female friends, except ones from high school, who are too sibling/borderline incest to ever fuck…

I’m constantly watching porn — Alexis Texas videos on the daily — and I’m always dreaming of what it would be like to have an ass like that on my bed, or bang someone as thick and hot as her.

I start googling escorts out of sheer 12 AM horny boredom, and find this girl named (D.P.). Her description says “bubble butt,” and my nighttime dick is sold. I become a bit obsessed with her and began jerking off to her photos.

I download TextPlus to use a fake number. Should I do it? Should I do it? Should I do it?

I force myself to man up a bit, take a risk, and meet up with this girl. The next morning, I get ready. Last night, I was texting with her (I asked her if she took PayPal. Her response: “cash only”). When I leave my house I’m not nervous.

Maybe because it’s all already planned in my head.

I’m full of adrenaline.

I’m on the train and there’s a brown guy in front of me wearing a shirt with a bunch of Rottweilers smiling, grinning like plastered SMILEDOG.jpg. I stare into the dogs’ eyes and feel freaked out.

I finally get off at my train stop. I check Google maps to see how far I am from the apartment. I keep walking. I’m not nervous. I’m ready. I will be that poor little rich boy who paid $150 to spend 50 minutes with an escort who has the body of a porn star while other guys my age are banging average suburban chicks who have no idea what they’re doing.

When I find the apartment, I text her and she buzzes me in. My phone has “911” on its screen, just in case I need to click it if this is some kind of trap — if I end up getting raped by a couple of dudes or something.

It’s very much the opposite. I go up, knock on her door, and she greets me.

“Hey babe! Sorry, I was just in the shower…”

She’s standing there in a robe, busty tits visible, blue eyes, blonde hair, big lips. Tons of make up on, I’m speechless.

The apartment is a bit of a “pad.” It’s really lengthy. Drake is playing from a cheap no name branded iPod dock in the bathroom. She leads me into her room. Drake is setting the mood.

“Come in here…” I sit and we talk. There’s a big mirror.

I put the cash down on her side table.

“So, do you get a lot of 19-year-olds?” I ask, turning my iPhone off.

“No. You’re actually my youngest guy. I usually get lots of business men, men with wives. Dudes in their early 20s who got a paycheck they want to blow on themselves. But talking to you in your texts, you just seemed classy.”

“Woah… So, my dad could have came here and cheated on my mom?” I say.

“Yeah but your mom is probably sleeping with your dad cause of his money. Me and your mom aren’t that different.”

“What do you mean?”  I ask.

“Girls just want guys who will pay for things — guys who give their money to girls, who will pay for things, hoping they get laid. It’s just easier to get an escort because you get what you wanted the whole time, but for the same price.”

As if I’m wasting the hour I’m spending $150 for, she gets right to it out of nowhere. She asks: “Let’s get naked?”

I’m ready, not nervous. I take off my pants, boxers and shirt and watch her undo her bra and take off her panties.

“Want to start with a blowjob?” I nod and murmur “Do you think you could turn around, so I could grab your ass while you’re sucking my dick?” She listens. In the mirror I see myself smacking her ass. It’s surreal. I’m living inside a porno, I’m not even that excited because I’ve seen so much porn, but shit, is this really happening?

She starts to bite/deepthroat my dick without a condom and I’m not that nervous because I’m openly young, dumb, fun, and I trust her. In her bubbly cheerleader voice she says “You like it when I suck your cock, mm I love that big dick,” and I move her head and she giggles: “All the big butt guys come to me, I get them all.” I virginally reply: “I think that’s one of the nicest asses I’ve ever seen…”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

I nod, she gets the condom and puts it on with her mouth and sucks it a bit. She bends down and I stick my dick inside her. I’m watching myself in the mirror as I fuck her. I look like a badass baby Bateman with no muscles to flex as I’m going inside, in and out as she moans. I am going too fast, too soon, which makes my dick flaccid…

“Want me to try sucking your dick more?” She begins to suck my dick and I ask for her to tease me, so she puts on this red thong I requested her to wear and shakes her juicy ass up and down. My mind is blown. She reminds me of why I love ass so much in the first place. She gets on top of me and starts giving me a lap dance and I grab her tits. She keeps moaning…

After a while of her sucking me off, my dick gets hard enough again and I lose my nerves and she gets on top and I’m fucking her again and her ass is bouncing up and down, my hands holding onto her cheeks as she rides me. But I’m slowly losing my hard on, for some reason. I’m shocked, I usually get rock hard in a second.

“It happens almost every time, guys just get nervous and then when they get home they tell me about how they just jerked off and it was literally fine,” she says, touching my shoulder, obviously rolling her eyes.

I’m flaccid again, trying to get my dick back up. I’m not really embarrassed, I’m more angry. Our time is running out.

“Do you want to just end with a titty fuck and then cum on my tits after?” she suggests, comfortably smiling.

I put my dick in between her titties, hard again, and I’m jerking really fast and ready to cum all over tits, give her the nicest pearl necklace a man can give to a woman. I shoot it out…

I feel clear, liquid, white, blank, empty, vacant, a robot as I put my clothes back on.

Holy fuck, am I numb.

“That was fun, thank you…” I say, putting my clothes back on.

“No problem! Thank you for coming here… People really think that this is an easy job but they don’t understand how it can really mess with your head, your mental state, but when I leave here… I just shut off, this part of me doesn’t exist.”

I smile and say “Yeah, well it’s performance art!”

“Exactly!” she says, shutting the door: “Bye now!”

I walk to Starbucks and order a Caramel Frapuccino, take a SnapChat selfie in my Yankees snapback before getting on the train, and feel like my head is balanced for a second. I feel really happy, a true happy, not an Adderall buzz.

On the train ride home, a million emotions surface.

I’m not a virgin anymore, I’m a man. I’m not a minority in crowds of dudes.

Yo, what if I get herpes?

(“You’re being paranoid,” she texts me two hours later, after I text her asking about the pimples around my dick…)

God damn, there was a hot blonde babe that looked like my favorite pornstar riding my dick and sucking me off only a couple of minutes ago. That really just happened…

Seconds fade and I put my fingers on the train window, facing the fact that I just committed the most soulless crime a man can commit.


Do people just put each other inside of one another just because there is nothing better to do?

I wanted something more, perhaps:

I desire love.