Page 6 of Sugar Baby

My personal favorite is a quickie, in and out—pun intended. I won’t have to spend the night pretending to enjoy having them wrapped around me, possibly asking for a round two or three. Potentially insisting.

Shudder.

I set the location to within fifteen miles and filter it for men only. I scan all the other options, happy with my basic selections, then hitFind Me A Date.

Cringe.

This app is four layers of cheese, and I am borderline lactose intolerant.

A little pink and blue ball rolls over and over as the app does its thing, then I’m presented with over fifty options. I purse my lips and raise my eyebrows. Seriously, so many kinky assholes out there.

I narrow my eyes at the profile picture on the first date request. No way is that dude under forty. I almost scroll straight past him, but then catch sight of the gift boxes.

Four purple boxes.

Four Gs? What the hell is he asking for, because there isn’t a lot that I wouldn’t do for that kind of money.

I’ve done plenty for a lot less.

I click on the date and scroll through the information.

An evening out with a special baby girl, dinner and dessert. Back to his place for a little fun. No age play, but yes to a little role-play. I glance at the date type;just a taste.

Pursing my lips again, I honestly contemplate it as an option. Besides not looking forty, the guy’s body shot looks pretty good. Like he was an athlete in a previous life and has since relaxed his workout plan.

I notice a little push pin icon at the top right. Clicking on it, I get a pop up, asking me if I want to pin this date for later with a little sentence in italics, stating that the poster won’t know I’ve pinned their date. I tip my head from side to side as I decide and figure that the description didn’t give me the ick, so there is no harm in pinning. I can always unpin later.

I continue scrolling and pinning, nothing really grabbing my attention beyond vague interest. I’m about halfway through the list when I see an invitation that has one red box.

Ten thousand dollars.

My stomach quivers, excitement thrumming through my veins. Literally, nothing so far has pushed a boundary for me. I don’t think I really have any. They were all stripped away years ago. And now I’m wondering what could possibly be in this invitation that they would need to pay someone five figures to make it happen.

Swallowing, I click. My focus immediately latches on to the date type.

Just a quickie.

Okay, cool. No sleepover. A one and done.

So far, so good.

The next thing I check out is the profile. There are several pictures, and when I scroll through, I’m confused at first. Four pictures of different shirtless, headless torsos. I can see a nipplepiercing on one, two have tattoos that run across their pecs and ribs, and the fourth is clean skinned.

All of them are ripped.

Twenty-four abs in total, paired with that V disappearing into low-hanging pants.

And the forearm porn is amazing.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I back out of the images and go check the username for insights.

Brat4Us

It takes me a moment, but the connection between the name and the images finally clicks into place. My eyebrows zoom up into my hair so fast that I feel the wrinkling of my skin.

Four daddies.

Well, I guess that explains why the date is 10K.