Mommy’s Little Whore Part II

A mother takes her precocious daughter to “Work” with her, for moral support, on her first experience with Prostitution…

Author

MLW stands for Mommy’s Little whore, but this chapter starts with Background Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1B__8N5d_LA

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Mother

By the time we were dressed, and back out to the driveway, there was a car, parked out front. The driver got out, with a hat wrapped in plastic, and an umbrella.

“Oh, he sent a limo?”

“It’s just a towncar.” She ran up, before he made it around to the sidewalk.

“It’s locked,” she pulled the handle.

“Let me get that for you.” The man in the plastic hat hit buttons in the keyboard, over handle of the front passenger door, then pulled open the back seat.

Then, he came for me, holding up the umbrella. So, I could pull down my hood. “Huh!” Check my hair, but he didn’t say anything, nor reach out. He just held the umbrella, and I shivered.

It’s not just the cold, I’m nervous.

“Mom, come on!” She’s waving from the back seat.

“This way, maam.” It’s too late now, I’m committed, but if I disappoint that. Well, there’s no other word for him quite as appropriate as Pervert.

“Thank you.” He offered his hand for me, to turn, and back into the seat, gracefully I hoped. Looking back at the carport. The house locked up, and dark. Empty, then the door closed, and he went around to the driver’s side.

“How about Nicole?”

“A friend of your’s?”

“No, I just want a better name. I mean, Lindsey’s fine, mom. I love it, but.”

Clunk, the door sounded muffled, patted, like something hitting the floor in the bathroom, when your head is under-water, and I fell like I’m drowning.

“You’re hyperventilating?”

Clunk! I jumped when the door thudded shut, rocking the whole car, and shut my eyes. I remember my meditation, classes. From Yoga class, and take a deep, ragged breath. “HhuuhhH!” Feel my heart beat settle down, under control.

“I’m fine,” rub her shoulders, “Nicole.”

“You’re just nervous, it’s perfectly natural.”

KHUSH! It hit a puddle, and water splashed over my window, like a wave crashing over a beach in a storm.

It’s not storming, like thunder, and lighting, that was like. 3 days ago? When the overcast gray turned darker on the horizon, and thunder rolled down the valley, following flashes in the clouds, then it settled in. For months, of course.

The three months of clear blue skies, and warm sunshine was a long way off. “Huh!” I lowered my voice, and leaned over, looking significantly over at the neat dry hairline of the driver. ‘i’m also a little excited, I’ve. never done anything like this before.’

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” She looks concerned, as if my worry reflected on her face, but she stopped searching with her eyes, and smiled back at me.

‘of course.’ I patted her hand. “It’s a long way to Beaverton…”

“Oh, you want to go to Beaverton?” The driver picked up a piece of paper. “It says the Kimpton here.” He dropped it, and turned back to the windshield, both hands on the wheel. Fingerless black leather gloves, with holes for his knuckles. I swallowed, and nodded.

“Oh, which one?”

“Is that a restaurant?” I coughed, and cleared my throat, swallowing again.

“Idaknow, the original one, up Broadway.”

“That’ll be fine. It’s lovely, you’ll love it. Very fancy.”

“Of course.” I hummed, to myself for a little while. Imagining something, in black and white. An older car, nicer, and a woman at the wheel with a partition of glass between us. Her blonde hair up under her hat, instead of it tossed on the passenger seat, with the paperwork, wrapped in wet plastic.

Leather, rich grainy leather to remind me that this is real, and strangely plastic feeling wood over that. The handle looks more like a door-knocker, or something you would find on a dresser drawer. Gold plated, with a wooden handle. When the streetlights flashed over the windows, and my lap.

My bare knees, and the dress. Completely dry, the black threads of my stalkings, and the uncomfortable straps down the outside of my thighs. I put my heel down, and picked up my knee, to cross my legs the other way.

“What’s that tune?”

“Oh, it’s. From the eighties.”

“Duran Duran.” the driver nodded, and I laughed a little to lighten the mood.

“Of course, you would know it.”

He reached out for the screen, hidden discreetly in the wood, and gold trimmed dashboard. He didn’t even look away from the road. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Of course.” I nodded.

“Play The Chauffeur.”

A weird electronic woman’s voice came on the speakers, and Lin, I mean. Nicole laughed.

“I have The Chauffeur, by Duran Duran.”

The synths, and bass started up, and I felt my shoulder blades. Dug into the seat back, then slowly relaxed.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

“I like the video.” He shrugged, “Of course.” He signaled, and turned, on Broadway. Headed for the bridge, I looked out. Over the low wall, the trinity cutouts flashing bye almost too quickly to see through the water running down diagonally, and the water reflecting the lights of the Moda Center, mostly. That just happened to be what was downstream, at the time.

That just reminded me of the time we went there, to watch the Trailblazers play the Bulls. My husband wasn’t disappointed, the Bulls won, by 30+ points, but he’s always been a fan of the Chicago teams. The Blackhawks…

I know, what he’d think of me, if he had any idea where we were going. The homeless people camped outside the shelter, with plastic trash bags pulled over their sleeping bags, as makeshift tents. “Hm.”

Just remember the video, from a different time, when I was younger. Even younger, and I had no idea what I was seeing when it came on MTV. Just how pretty the women looked, dancing, but they cut out the topless Chauffeur in the American version. I hadn’t even seen that part, until recently, I looked that up. For some reason, but the 2 women, holding their hands up, to push and pull against each other.

“Huh! Charlotte?” I hadn’t thought about her in years. Just a childhood friend, that learned that dance with me, and was equally disappointed when we could find clothing like that, to play dressup.

Of course, they didn’t make clothing like that, for 2nd graders, in the 80s. All though, there was that weird little girl in that other video. I don’t even remember the song, nor who play it. Only the men in mod suits, and goggles. Taking apart a grand piano with chainsaws, and other power tools while she beat the keyboard with a hammer.

“Here we are,” he pulled up to the front, and got out. I forced myself to let go of the handle, and it snapped down. Under spring tension, but I had to flex my fingers to get some circulation back into them. I jumped when he pulled the door open, with that same muted thump. He offered my hand, and I looked up to see the canopy, blocking the rain. So, I could swing my heels out, and he could pull me up, to steady myself on them.

“Huh!” He took my arm, and led me to the doorway. I looked back, but she waved him in, and whispered something to him. He looked back, and I nodded.

She had her dress pulled down. Strapless, so her breasts spilled out, and he looked back. Shaking his umbrella, and folding it up, she scooted over, and then I heard her.

“No, leave it open.” She pulled open his jacket, and he shrugged out of it, while she went to work on his pants. Then, he fondled her breasts, and I should have been cold out there. In the doorway, with the rain spattering the pavement, and splashing on my open toed shoes. I shivered, but I felt warm, and not ashamed of her.

Not at all, quite the opposite. She told me once, that she values herself, when most people talk about women of ill repute. She showed me, a roll of $20.00 bills, and left them on the bathroom counter when she got into the tub.

10 of them. $200.00, and told me about her date. Not who he was, but how he treated her. “Like a queen,” she said. “Then a blowjob in the back seat.”

A $200.00 blowjob, while this was a freebie. I guessed. “Just a tip,” though she used her hand to stroke the rest of it. Like a pro, my daughter. The Prostitute, and strangely, I have never felt more proud of her.

She sat up, and wiped her mouth. “Hey!” he protested, holding it up, still hard.

She just pulled the pocket square out of his jacket, and wrapped it around the head. Squeezing it, and twisting her fist.

“AH UH FUGH! HUH!”

She finished him off quickly, and climbed over his lap. Pulling up her dress, and holding her braless chest, to run.

How she can run in those heels is beyond me, but I pulled out my coat, and dried her shoulders, pulling the doors to let her in.

“So, do I get a room, and have him pay for it, or. How does this usually go?”

“I don’t know, mom. They don’t have services like this at the Joyce.”

I warned her about that place, it had a reputation as a hotel for crack-heads, and whores. She said that I could let her out downtown, in the rain, dressed like that, to thumb a ride back “To where I belong.”

I can’t have her staying in a. Well, a “Shithole.” Like that. Her words, not mine. “Why don’t you check and see if he’s waiting in the bar?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, even this late, I kinda think they’d card me. I’ll just wait out here.”

I nodded, and swallowed. Realized that I might like a drink, just to loosen up.

“What can I get you,” the bartender dropped a cocktail menu on the counter, to match my dress. I slipped the fleece off my shoulders, and traced down the side with the Vodka drinks. “Moscow Mule.” He nodded, and went to pull down a copper cup.

“Honey,” I felt his hand on my shoulder, and tensed up. “Relax,” he rubbed it, and set down a card. “Have a drink, I’ll meet you up at our room.”

I nodded, and he turned the gold card, to reveal the key-card, with the room number, like a Blackjack dealer.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender took the former, and when I looked up. In the mirror, he was gone. As quickly as he’d appeared, like a magician, but I checked my hair.

“Madame.” I corrected him when he came back.

That sounds so much nicer than Pimp.

;

“Charlotte.” (Mf Alias)

I giggled, good name! Rhymes with Harlot, and it sounds a lot less trashy than Luscious. What was I thinking? Well, other than that was the first one I could think of that wasn’t taken, when I met Cherry, Dawnelle, Pequita, Jasmine, Grace, Lee Anne, and. What was her name. Oh yeah, Haisla.

It turned out, that wasn’t her name, but the name of her Nation. She’s Canadian, but Native Canadian? Canadian American, but from some. Well, Indian Tribe, though of course, they’re not Indians, from India, it’s just, like. Well, you can’t call them Native Americans when there from Canada, right?

We got a good laugh out of that, but she got kicked out of her tribe. Then, she went to work at Casinos in Oklahoma, and then she missed the PNW, which is weird. The mountains, I get, but the weather? She said the winter down there, around Lawton, that was just wind, and mixed snow, sleet, or rain, but it wasn’t like the rain up here.

“Huh, right?” I guess I’d have to travel, a lot to actually get homesick for grey skies, and rain. I’ll take her word for it, but she Waxed. Everything, and even mixed up another pot of fondue to wax me too.

That was my first girl, and I guess the only girl that I ever worked with, professionally. He likes them young, she said. “He’ll like you,” but only if I have every single hair ripped out, so I’m as smooth as a little school girl. He didn’t dress me up like a little schoolgirl, but he had daughters, and he took us in their room.

Not the first time I had to call one Daddy. I had a friend over, see? This is Saffron, she’s an exchange student, from Thailand. She did the accent, hell I don’t know what the Thailand accent sound like, Vietnamese? He didn’t care, he just wanted a dark little asian, to come over, and play with his “Daughter,” while he watched through the cracked door, and beat off in the hallway.

So, she painted corners in her eyes, and squinted, spoke in that singsong voice. Easy money, but I didn’t know her. Not really, I didn’t know him neither, so it was easy to call him daddy as it ever was. He’s not my real dad, maybe more like a step-dad, if mom ever divorced, and married a man that didn’t hate whores.

Then, she asked me where I was staying, and I said the Joyce, got a Hostel room, and that’s where I met Sophia. She was a runaway, but she sold papers, and turned in beer cans for money. I didn’t tell her where I got mine, or where I kept it. She found it anyway, or some other girl that came in to stay the night, while I was out. Looking for work.

She was still there, and it was more like a hospital room, or a psyche ward than anything. I thought that smell was the stuff they sprayed in the halls to kill bed-bugs, but no. She smelled like Liquorish, and washed her hair with this weird Greek Liquor she drank. To kill the lice, and crabs.

She didn’t have crabs, even though she was hairy, and I mean hairy all over. She didn’t have any razors, just uhm. Metaxa, that’s what it was called. We got drunk, and I got used to it, then she told me that she was bisexual, and I guess. That was the first girl I did it with.

Saffron was just acting, and she wasn’t into it. A girl can tell, but it’s just work. A job, and she faked it pretty well, without the spasms around my fingers you’d expect from a real orgasm.

I wonder if Mom shaved, or maybe got a Brazillian wax? Her legs, even through the fishnets, and I never, in a million years even imagined seeing her in fishnets. High heeled boots, she always wore flats, and hated heels. She’s not very steady on them, and it was so warm under her fleece jacket.

The worst part was the Joyce hotel, and any bi-curiosity I might have had, well. It wasn’t because she was so hairy, honestly, she wasn’t even as hairy as a man, it just looked weird. Smelled weird, and I kept wiping my mouth. Looking for balls that just weren’t there, and the cottage cheese thighs bothered me too, but she loved it.

“Huh!” I can do this. She said, he’s probably going to expect me to do it on her, too.

Mom, and I hardly recognize her. Yeah, she acted so prim, and proper, never said the word fuck, even when dad was still fucking her, she said “pound me” pretty loud once. Then, she told me that’s what he wanted.

“Hey, your mother told me you’re waiting out here.” He offered his hand. “You must be…”

“Charlotte.” I smiled, but he didn’t squeeze my hand, and barely shook it. I nodded, and smiled, even when he held it too long. So long that they got sweaty together, and stared at me, but in my eyes. I didn’t want to blink, or look away, but you know.

Holding hands, and looking in each others eyes like that, there’s an intimacy there, that you want to avoid. He wants me, to feel something for him, I can tell, but all the time I’m just thinking about his wife. His brown little boys, and girls, playing in the yard. I don’t know them, I have no idea how many there are, but he’s Hispanic, and I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s problematic if he wants me to call him daddy.

He cleared his throat, and wiped his hand on the corner of his jacket. He blinked first, and looked away, so I took that as a small victory. He’s married, and he didn’t even bother taking off his ring. He might need bolt cutters, with the way it swelled up around it, fat, and the golden twinkle of his watch sticking out of his cuff, before he pulled it out.

“Your mother,” not a trace of Accent, so Mexican American? I like this part, especially. He’s a stranger, and my mom told me, just like any other not to talk to strangers, but what little I know about him leaves enough to make up my own story.

There’s a mystery there, and he’s got a bowtie. 2 Golf Clubs holding his cuffs together, crossed like bones on a pirate flag. He could be Spanish, Intelligence, a spy. Like James Bond, or whatever the Spanish equivalent of James is, but I’m already taking notes, waiting for the elevator.

Reflected in the shiny chrome doors, standing next to him, and even in heels, I’m about nipple level. I wonder what his fantasy is, and I can imagine his nipples. Pinched into ovals, in the corners of his man-boobs. His belly button is probably an innie, a dark pit, maybe with some hairs growing out of it, and maybe not. DING!

“Ladies first.”

I smiled, and turned around. Looking up at the black triangle tucked discreetly in the corner. The camera, and sure I’m 19, but I don’t look nineteen. I sure as shit don’t look like his daughter, and that just means I’m not an underage prostitute. The last thing I want to do is go home to get my ID. Or let them take my fingerprints, add Solicitation to my shoplifting, trespassing, and public indecency.

“Huh, so. We might as well talk about, what to expect. Mom said that you weren’t specific.”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

“Look, I like surprises as much as the next girl, but even in a nice hotel like this, I have to minimize the risk of nasty surprises, like hand cuffs, gags, and torture devices waiting for me in your room. I can’t trust you, I don’t know you, so you’re going to have to give me some idea what to expect.”

“I don’t want you to be scared, but no. Nothing like that, I don’t want to try you up, and hurt you, honestly I care more about Gladys.”

I almost giggled, but of course, she’d choose a name like Gladys. She’s not, a church lady. She’s a born again Agnostic, but she was raised that way, and I guess you can take the girl out of the school uniform, but you can’t take the Parochial School out of the girl.

She doesn’t have the old uniform, but you can get anything online these days. It probably wouldn’t fit her any more, and she doesn’t even have pictures of herself, like a year book. That wasn’t her, she reminded me, oh so many times. That was the little girl her parents wanted, but now she was here, with me, and a John.

“All right, let me tell you what I have planned…”

“Oh,” I probably should have guessed.

;

Author {Note, Sophie drank, and bathed/disinfected with Ouzo. Not Metaxa Mescat fortified wine. She just doesn’t know the difference, because she’s never heard of Ouzo, Anisette, nor Sambuca. Maybe Absinthe from Moulin Rouge, but she has no idea what it smells like. She’s a suburban high-school dropout, with only pretensions at high class, even in a hipster cultural melting pot like Brooklyn, or Portland.}

;

Mom (FMf Incest Interracial Threesome. Trigger Warning: She doesn’t want to sound racist, but then she doesn’t want to sound like a filthy whore, either…)

“Huh, huh huh!” I’m not hyperventilating. “HhuhHhuh!” Take a deep breath, don’t hold it, just let it out, slowly.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

“Whew!” My hand isn’t even shaking, but my heart is beating fast, and loud. Holding up the key card, and flipping it around. Checking the number, I slip it in, carefully, and try the handle.

“RAHHHH!” He pauses the game. Thank god, it’s not anything pornographic, but he left the tie on the table, next to his keys, and his wallet…

“Oh, honey. How was the prayer meeting?”

I caught my heel on the threshold, and he didn’t. Carry me over the threshold, but I’m not dressed for a prayer meeting, any more than I was for a wedding.

I laughed, but he caught me. Bent over to kiss me, and he smells like. “Snh?” Old Spice, I think.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Well, a little.” I held up 2 fingers. “You know the ladies, Marge had a new Amontillado we just had to try.”

I’m not drunk, I’m not nearly drunk enough, but glancing over at the TV screen. The soccer match, it reminds me of coming home, to my husband. My new husband, right? I have to think back to all the stories, and scenarios. The young divorcee, and her daughter. Moving on up to the east side. To a dee-lux apartment, in the sky.

It’s lavish, honestly. There’s no champagne in the ice bucket, it’s empty on the bar, but I just left the bar, and the coppery taste from the mug is still clinging to my tongue. I licked my lips.

“Huh, maybe I better go lie down.”

He lied about working construction. His hands, they were too soft, and his fingernails too well manicured, he might as well have said he was a Gardener, in Beaverton. Beanertown, some of my less, progressive friends said. Giggling around book club, and reading passages of that dreadfully written 50 Shades of Grey out loud, in sultry voices.

“Ah, ah, ah, huh!” Through the doors, the pocket doors, to the suite. He slid them open, and I didn’t even have to think of my line.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?”

“Mom!” She rolled over, with her dress scrunched up like a wrinkled belt around her waist, and her panties down around her ankles. She grunted so the vibrator squirted out, and rolled around, buzzing on the comforter.

The down douvet.

“You’re home early.”

“Uh!” I let my knees kick out, and he caught me under the ribs. The back of my hand to my bangs, I closed my eyes, but the image of the plastic lozenge. The base off the buttplug, that hadn’t even budged.

“Let’s get you on the bed.” He helped me, and I reached down to unzip my boot. Crawling up onto the down douvet. Of course, it felt like barrier cloth, but Egyptian cotton? I’d bet that if you checked the tag, it would read 100% Egyptian cotton, but the threadcount so dense it might as well have been a solid sheet of plastic. I couldn’t look close enough to even see the weave, but he held up my heel, and pulled the zipper.

Slipped the shoe off of the heel, and these fishnets. Gods above, they rub your heel raw, but he massaged it, then I looked back, when I felt his breath on my toes. His mustache, and then his lips. “Smooch.” Sucking my toes, and oh my god. He’s a foot freak?

“Huh, mom. Mommy, is it okay if I stay?”

“Of course, dear.” I felt giddy, and light headed now. ironically, after I feigned fainting to get over to the bed with her. “Huh, what’s this doing in here?” She slipped her hip up the comforter so it stretched out, but I couldn’t crawl after her.

She giggled, covering her mouth so sincerely, even I couldn’t tell she was acting. “Huh, let me get this.” I caught her thigh, and she froze. Shivered, then her hands felt down her neck.

“Uh, mom!” Her eyes turned under? Like a frown, but she arched her back, when I got a good grip on the flat side, and wiggled the plastic base out, with a pop, and a spasm. “Ihn!” She ached her back, on her slide, and I felt a little drool roll out of the corner of my mouth.

“Huh! That hurt?”

She shook her head, dumbfounded.

“Well, let me kiss it, and make it better.”

“Uh, fuck, mom? Oh, mom, uh!” She spasmed, and puckered.

“Wholooloolooh!”

“Uh fuck, huh! Where did you learn that?”

I didn’t, I just shook my head. Kept swirling around, knowing full well how clean, and smooth, and soft, and pink it would be. Well, clean. Of course, she took a bath to wash the filth off of a couple places in that. Horrible place. Not that she took the time to douche, and enema, but she spent quite a while soaking in that bath water.

“Smooch!” I felt it. “I didn’t know you shaved.”

She shook her head. “Waxed. A friend of mine waxed, me. Huh, mom?”

“Well?” I shook my head. “Your father wanted to try it, so I told him, yeah right. Kiss my ass.”

“Oh, my god, mom?”

“What?” I shrugged. “I didn’t think that he’d take me up on it.”

“Oh, god. yeah!” Once again, my shoulder blades tried their damnedest to meet in the middle of my back. “Huh, fuck. Yeah, keep talking.”

I heard him, is belly. Patting disgustingly, and slowly. Hesitantly looked back, over my shoulder. Put my hip down, but. I hoped, maybe that would be enough. He could finish, so we could get out of here, but of course it was dark. Uncircumcised, and it just looked dirty.

“Huh!” I felt the bed move, and tried to reach for her, but she swung her legs off the side, and he kept a grip on my ankle. Then she was on the floor, at the foot of the bed, and the cowlick. The little swirl in the back of her hair, it couldn’t be anyone else.

I’d seen that cowlick, for almost 20 years. Sending her off to school, with a cup of coffee. Standing in the doorway, so when she stopped and waved from the bus doors. I waved back.

“AURGHL! Ug gugh gug guk!”

At least he let go of my ankle, so I could dry my foot off on the douvet.

“Ghah! COCK! Spt!”

Of course, that’s why it’s called a cock.

He put his knee up on the corner, but then he crawled after me. I tried to hide my fear, as excitement. “Huh! Come on, catch me if you can?” I couldn’t think of anything else, but then my shoulders hit the wall. No headboard, to bump against the wall.

“You like it up the ass?”

I swallowed, stunned, and heard myself squeak. Nodding.

“Huh! Here.” My daughter, practically saved me. “Hey,” she tapped him on the shoulders, and snapped by his ear. “Here.” Handed him an unwrapped condom, and he sighed. That dirty little grin wiped off his face, he turned around, and shrugged. Gave me a minute to catch my breath, while he put on the hat, and rolled it down.

“I never really liked these damned things.”

“Well, too bad.” She shimmied out of that dress, and kicked it off. Picked up her heel to unbuckle the strap, then stepped down. 3 inches shorter to unbuckle the other one. “Not negotiable. Deal breaker.”

“All right, okay, I get it. I’m glad, honestly. That means you haven’t been having unprotected sex.”

“Huh!” She looked up, and shook her head, but bit her lip.

Okay, well. I guess, that mix of spit, and. Semen, I had to wash out of her dress. She spit it out, and told me that he wanted her to swallow it, but. I should probably take her down to the women’s clinic, for tests, and shots. You can’t be too careful.

;

“Charlotte” (f Solo Fant)

Oh, my god! I thought she would be shocked, by the buttplug. Well, okay. He pulled open the bedside drawer, and then he went out in the. Front room? I don’t know if you’d call it a living room, in a hotel suite, but he just left the doors open, with the instructions that “You might want to get ready,” then went out to watch a home movie on the big screen.

Ready for what? Well, he must have stopped by the sex shop at some point, but he got a boxed set. It hadn’t even been opened yet, I had to cut the tape with my canine tooth, and all he did was peel most of the sticker off, so I couldn’t tell what he spent on it, but inside. Sure enough, a vibrator, a matching buttplug, and a tiny little serving of lube like a ketchup packet, with a little bulb to tear off.

I’d never really had more than a finger in there, and that was Saffron. She didn’t like it, and neither did I, but you know. The customer is always right? Well, let me tell you, you don’t get the cream of the crop to work with here. I thought maybe it would be different, in a nice hotel, but who was I fooling?

Of course, a man that’s willing to pay thousands of dollars. Okay, we’re splitting a grand, but this place ain’t cheap, and the car, and everything? Well, I don’t know if they rent VCRs, or he brought it with him. It sure didn’t look like it belonged there, stuck sideways in the entertainment center, that looked like a wardrobe with the door closed, but I didn’t want to see his daughter.

His wife, and kids, the Elementary School soccer game, and him sitting back. Feeling it in the leg of his pants. Ew.

I’m supposed to be getting ready here, but I set the buttplug aside, and got up to shut the doors. I shouldn’t have looked at what he was watching, but I saw the girls, running around. I don’t know which one was his, one of the black pony tails? Okay, that was like half of them, but none of them looked like they were sporting bras yet, so we’re talking. Not even 4th grade?

I know, it’s not my place. I’m a whore, and even if I did stupidly call the cops, what am I going to say? Oh, I was at the Kimpton, downtown, turning a trick with my mom, when the john put on a soccer game to get ready for her to come up from the bar.

Girl’s Soccer.

Little Soccer Girl.

Watching them run around like porn. “Huh!” I just imagined him pointing the camera up, to look across the sidelines, at the soccer moms. “Yeah,” my mom’s not, really interested in sports, it was always dad that made it to all of my brother’s games, and then when I was up on stage. He made it, before it was my turn, at the talent show, but he was late.

If he could see me now? “Huh!” I did a ribbon dance, and yeah. I had a velvet catsuit on under it, and tights on under that, so I wasn’t exactly naked, but if they had a pole up, I would have worked that. I didn’t always want to be a prostitute, in middle school, I would have settled for a stripper.

Plenty of places to work, around here. They don’t exactly put it in the tourist brochures with the water tower lit up, but there’s more titty bars than bike shops here, go ahead, and look it up.

Also, more homeless people than Washington DC, and sure I could have gone to the tent city. It’s right down broadway, and it’s free, but I payed $20.00 a night for a hostel room at the Joyce, because I thought that’s where I belonged. City of gutters, but where’s even lower than the gutter? I swear, I woke up at night, to that faded teal ceiling, with the paint pealing off in white spots, and knew what it felt like to be looking up at hell.

No, that’s not where I belong, any more than the loony bin it reminded me of, but I guess I was slumming. I had $200.00 in my bra, I could probably have afforded a. Well, probably one of the cheaper rooms here, and a bathtub, instead of a girls room to play which shower has the tweaker chick shit in?

“Uph, huh!” I relaxed, when the widest part of the cone slipped in, and tried to think about Sophie. That’s her real name, I didn’t card her, I didn’t have to, but she was a runaway. She prided herself on not having to sell her body, and dumpster dove instead. “I’m a recycler,” she said. That’s what she did for the twenty bucks a month, she collected cans to take back to Fred Meyers, and sold papers on the street.

Not like those. Well, “Look at those filthy,”

“Huh!” I didn’t think I’d like it, this much. Up the butt. I didn’t know anyone into anal, just some of the girls did it to please their man, but. “Siph? Huh.” Yeah, I’m drooling. “Oh!”

I forgot all about the vibe, so. I better get ready, for him. “Heah, oh. Yeah!” It’s got 5 speeds, but the lowest one, it makes the weight shake, all around. “Hhuhuhuh!” I’d turn it up, if I have to, but each time it slips down, my clit. And I hold it against the plastic plug. “Uhuhuh fuck!”

If he wants to. Pound me, all I can think about it the face mom makes, when she says, “Sodomy. Ugh, fuck. Yeah!”

I have issues, all right? I know, a lot of it is mom, and dad, driving past Dante’s, and judging the girls out front. When the weather’s nice enough for them to come down, and smoke. Talk guys into coming up to watch the show. She always stopped him from using words like, “Sluts. Huh, little better than whores, look at them.”

Well, I did. I know, I’m supposed to see their, cheap skimpy clothes, and fake ass titties. It’s a titty bar, of course the have implants. “Uh, fugh. HUH! Ah’n nah ah AH AH! Huh?”

Oh, there they are. Took them long enough, but I’m ready now. Ready as I’ll ever be and if he wants me to perform, sodomy. Or eat her out, or whatever he wants.

The customer is always right, right?

She doesn’t look nervous, and. She’s acting drunk, he doesn’t know her like I do, but she can drink Dad under the table. She’s Irish, and if you’ve ever seen the try channel on Youtube? Watch any one of the Irish People Try any kind of alcohol, and keep an eye on Ciara.

She doesn’t look like mom, at all, but everyone else is dying. They’re all Irish, as fuck, but even when they’re drinking moonshine. A lot of moonshine, and the Irish dudes are falling down drunk.

She never loses her composure. Her cheeks might get a little red, but she just takes a shot, and goes, “Oh, this is lovely.” While some 200 pound Irish dude is slumped on the table, and slurring.

That’s my mom. She doesn’t get that drunk, or if she did. Maybe she can’t handle those heels, but she wasn’t down there long enough to get that drunk. It was just an excuse to get on the bed, and.

I never saw, lust. On her face, in her eyes, and that dirty grin she got on her lips. “Oh, my god, mom?” I can smell it on her, not the alcohol on her breath, but even from here, I can smell her. She must be dripping right now. I knew, well. I found out recently that she wasn’t just reading my stories. She was into it, and I certainly didn’t get my sexuality from my uptight dad, but.

Really? He did that, he ate out her ass, so she’d let him. Perform sodomy. “Uh, uh! Huh!” God, “Mom, where did you learn to do that?”

“Ooh lululululu!”

“Nuh, ihn, uh nuh!” I almost want to say no, stop, when really no. Please don’t stop. It’s the dirtiest, sexiest, most pleasurable thing I ever felt in my whole entire life, and I can’t believe that, it’s my mom’s tongue. My prim, and proper mother. Who hesitates even to say Shoot instead of shit.

“Well, your father.” She looked back at the dirty old man, trying his bets to fuck the fishnets right off her feet. “Well, he wanted to try it, but I told him to kiss my ass. I never thought he’d take me up on it!”

She giggled, and wiggled, but then again, maybe his foreskin tickled her feet. I don’t know, but talk about hidden depths. I’d never even heard her use the A word, she couldn’t even bring herself to call someone an asshole on the road, even giving them the finger, but I got up, to go to work.

Feeling my ass crack stick together, and my asshole. My mother, just had her tongue. In my asshole. “Uh, snih?” He smelled clean enough. Even when he pulled the wrapper back, and squeezed a drop out. I know, it’s body fluids, and he’s the kinda man that pays women for sex, so it’s not just him I’m sucking off. It’s every pussy and asshole his dick has ever been in, but I’ve never felt so dirty in my whole life.

Even sucking off the driver with the door wide open, and the look of pride on her face. That’s my girl, I could almost hear her think, when I doorknobbed him with the silk hankie he had in his breast pocket, but now.

“Huh, fuck me. Now, god I can’t stand it any longer, get up here, and fuck me, now!”

Mom, my mom, up on her knees, and bent over to slip her panties down to the tops of her fishnets. Pinching the thick clear plastic bulb, so the last of the greasy strawberry scented lube rolled down her crack, and her butthole.

Oh, my god, she grunted, so it puckered, and sucked in the drop, with her butthole. “Nghm!”

I had to pinch the tip, and his knees clamped together when my spit, and the rubber squeaked on his sensitive tip. With the skin pulled back, when he put it on.

“You have to leave a little room for your load, now. You heard the woman. Don’t make her wait.”

I went around to the pillows, and sat up. Sideways, and she held out her hands. I held her hands, watching her wince, and listening to her grunt. “Nghm!” It hurt. “Huh, ys! Nrh!” She shook her head, but she kept looking up. “Ngh, pound it. Uh!’ She looked like she might puke. “Pound it up my butthole. Aingh!”

She took it like a champ. Like a pro, and I’ve never been so proud of her.

“Uh, fuck, huh!” She turned over, and I ran around, expecting a facial, but he pinched it. “No, uh!” Grebbed his own balls hard. “Your legs, but them up. Put your feet up, huh!” He dropped the rubber, and shook the whole bed with his knees, but mom smiled, and bit her lip. Crossed her legs, and scissored them, then slipped her burgundy toenails up, to tickle his balls.

“Ah, god. Yeah, ah. AHHHhhh! Huh!” He collapsed, as soon as his balls were empty. “Huh, huh!” She scooted over, and I covered my mouth, when I saw the brown streak, they’d have to bleach out when they came to change the bedding.

“Oh, come here.” She let him pillow his head in her lap. Held his head, and stroked his hair. I thought he might cry, but he didn’t.

“Huh!” She looked up, and shook her head. Slowly, so I held my breath, and backed out. She shook her head again, when I felt for the little brass lever thing, you pull the doors out of the wall with. So, I left them open, and went to find the bathroom. Take a shower until she came in to join me.

“Oh, I’m done, if you need it.”

“Oh good,” she turned around. “They do have a bidet.”

“Huh, right?” So, that’s why they had 2 toilets. I thought one of them looked a little weird.

“Huh!” She shivered, and relaxed, while the water splashed, and trickled back down. “Huh, Lin’.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, Charlotte?”

“Yes mom?”

“Thank you.” She took my hand and held it. “Thank you so much, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, and I never would have thought of it, if not for you.” Over her heart, in both hands.

“You didn’t really like that.”

“Oh, the sodomy?” Her eyes rolled up, and she smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I. Really like that.”

I shook my head. “It looked like it hurt, but I ment. The other thing, when you.” I can’t even say this, “He made you do that.”

“No, that was all my. Well, I don’t suppose I really thought about it.” She shrugged, “I just wanted to do it.”

“Lick my.”

“Asshole.”

“Mom!”

“What? I never noticed before, but you’ve got the cutest, sweetest, most delectable asshole.”

“Shut up!” I just covered my ears before she said anything else. “God! You’re such a pervert!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I thought you’re. Well, she said that you’ve done this before, and you wrote those stories?” He shook his head, “No, I don’t know why I ever even believed that.”

“No, it’s true. Huh! Honestly, I always wanted to be, myself. It’s really what I was born to do.” I leaned up in the doorway. “When all the other girls wanted to do a lemonaide stand, I was the one that wanted a kissing booth.”

“Oh, so you’re okay with your mother. Jesus, i had no idea she could even do anything, so filthy!”

“Sodomy?” I realized. “Huh! No, I guess she always had a thing, for Sodomy.”

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