escort diary® of Ari Latina: Ari’s first shift. xxx
My first day in this job, I was working for an agency. They sent us around the city in cars, dropping girls off at different locations. That night, there were four of us in the car—all of them so cute, sexy, and super young.
The car itself was intoxicating—like a moving perfume box. The mixture of freshly washed hair, expensive perfume, and the natural aroma of the girls created an atmosphere that was pure seduction. Divine. Just sitting there among them, with that incredible perfume in the air, felt erotic in itself.
We drove through the streets of Rio, hanging out, looking gorgeous, our bodies wrapped in the tiniest outfits you could imagine—just barely covering the essentials, every curve on display. The fabric clung to our skin, short skirts riding up, straps slipping off smooth shoulders. We looked like trouble, but refined trouble—seductive, elegant, impossible to ignore. Every time we stepped out of the car, the air shifted. Men on the street turned their heads, eyes widening, mouths parting, unable to hide their hunger. And then we’d glide back inside, laughing softly, leaving behind only perfume and the memory of our legs. Back in the car, we waited for our turns, the anticipation as thick and intoxicating as the aroma of perfume and young skin in the air.
Around 1am, it was finally mine.
He opened the door of a stunning apartment in Ipanema. High design, modern, the kind of place that immediately makes you feel like you’re stepping into another world. He was in his thirties, athletic, young, dark-skinned, smelling fresh, his eyes lighting up the second he saw me. I could feel his gaze burning into me—he couldn’t stop staring at my breasts, at the way my nipples pressed so hard against the thin fabric of my tiny dress, showing through like they were begging to be touched. And when his eyes weren’t glued to my chest, they were fixed on my lips—hungry, fascinated, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to taste first. His excitement was undeniable, and it only made me even wetter.
The moment we started, my body betrayed how much I wanted it. He could feel how wet I was, how ready, how eager. I was nervous but burning inside—like I could explode at any second. The chemistry was immediate, raw, unstoppable.
When it was over—shower, the usual—I let him know it had been my first job, my very first time. At first, he didn’t believe me. “You were so hot, you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing.” I smiled and told him the truth: This wasn’t my first time having sex, but it was my first time doing it for a living.
He looked impressed, maybe even a little enchanted. That night, he fell for me—and I fell in love with the job.
He took my number, and from then on, I didn’t need the agency anymore. I realized I could be independent, free, and never look back.
