Pretty Little Thing

 

By Candy

© 2010

 

Like those “take your daughter to work” days, my mom took me to work with her.  Unlike other moms, mine took me to work every workday. 

 

I need to explain.  My mom didn’t have one of those nine-to-five jobs and didn’t work in an office.  Her workplaces were a series of hotel rooms, and later our apartment.  If she had a business card, her occupation would say escort.  She was a prostitute, and yes, I watched her work for several years.  In hotels in the early days, I’d hide under the bed and listen to all the noises men would make and the things they would say to my mother.  She tried to explain sex things to me, but at that young age, I didn’t get it.  Like at first I thought they were hurting her because of the sounds she made.  She told me those were “good” sounds and she made them mostly because that’s what the men liked to hear.

 

“When it’s good sex, a woman will make those sounds naturally because it feels so good,” she said.

 

“But when the men pay it’s not good sex?” I asked.

 

“It’s good for them.  That’s why they pay me.  Sometimes it’s good for me too, but not always.”

 

“When it’s not good, does it hurt?”

 

“No, sweetheart, it doesn’t hurt.  It’s like a thing you do, like a chore.  You have to do it to make money but it’s not always fun.”

 

“You mean like homework, or when you make me clean my room for my allowance?”

 

“I guess so,” she said.

 

“So when it feels good it’s not like a chore, but do you still keep the money?”

 

She laughed.  “Yes, I keep the money.  That’s like my job, so if it feels good it’s like a bonus.”

 

“That’s a cool deal,” I said.  I didn’t really understand it all then, especially why I could never tell anyone what her job was.  My friend Sarah’s mom worked in a lawyer’s office, and I thought my mom’s job was cooler, and not as boring as that.  I just wished I didn’t have to lie about it.

 

When we moved into a nicer apartment and she started working at home instead of in hotels, I finally got to watch.  I would hide around a doorframe and spy on them.  The first revelation was seeing how different men were from each other.  Their penises were all different lengths and thicknesses, and the way they grew stiff was different too. 

 

One time, I asked my mom, “Are you, like, blowing them up like balloons when you put them in your mouth?”

 

She laughed, “No sweetheart.  They get hard from filling up with blood inside.  What I do is make the men feel good, which gets the blood going.”  I thought, I‘d never understand this sex stuff.

 

I’d watch the men put their stiff penises into my mom’s vagina and make them go in and out.  I thought mom wouldn’t like the bigger ones, as if maybe they would hurt, but those she seemed to like the best. 

 

The way they would change around sometimes had me perplexed.  I asked her once, “How come sometimes you’re on top and sometimes the man is on top of you, and sometimes you get on your hands and knees with the man behind your butt, and sometimes the man only wants it in your mouth?”

 

She explained as best she could, even explaining about the men who couldn’t get hard no matter what she did.  “Just like you try different flavors of ice cream, the men like to try different positions, and they all have favorites.”

 

“But, like, I thought sex was sex, not all kinds of different things.”  I had so much to learn.

 

One time while I watched, the customer refused to wear a condom.  My mom wouldn’t let him go in her, and I thought he would be violent.  I almost came out of hiding to stop him but he left after mom gave him back most of his money.  Mom had explained about condoms and why they had to use them.  “Too many diseases out there,” she said.

 

It was soon after that day when a man caught me watching.  “You’ve got a kid?” he said to my mom.

 

Mom said, “Never mind her.  You ready?”

 

“While she’s watching?  You want that?”

 

Mom whispered, “Yes.”  As they were doing it, I moved closer to the bed, since I figured I didn’t have to hide anymore.

 

His penis was like wet and shiny up close.  I didn’t know if that was from the condom or from inside my mom.  I had a tremendous urge to reach in and touch it but I was too afraid to try.  As I grew even closer to the bed, he looked at me.  It wasn’t a smile on his face, but some other expression I didn’t recognize.  He kept going in and out of my mom while sort of looking me up and down.  Mom’s eyes were closed so she didn’t know he was staring at me as he was.

 

He grunted and said, “Oh baby, here it comes,” and he stopped all the way in her and made more grunting noises.  As he got off my mother, he winked at me.  “Would you like to touch it, maybe take the rubber off and see what’s inside?”

 

Before I could answer, Mom hollered, “You bastard, leave her out of this.”

 

He said, “Hey, you’re the one who has her here.”  He glanced again at me and added, “She sure is a pretty little thing.  Maybe you should train her early for your...ahem...profession.”

 

“Okay, your time is up, now leave.”

 

After he was gone, I asked Mom, “What was that all about?”  She tried to explain, calling the man a “pedo” but as usual, I didn’t understand.  “But Mom, I didn’t mind him looking at me.  He said I was pretty.”

 

“And you are, darling, but it wasn’t right the way he looked at you.”

 

Then I got it.  “You mean he wished he was having sex with me instead of you?  Why?  I’m only a girl.”

 

“Some men like to have sex with young girls.  They’re really bad men.”

 

“Why is it bad?  Sex looks kinda cool, and you like it.”

 

“Never think like that.  Young girls shouldn’t have sex.  You don’t understand enough to handle it, you’re too small, and it would hurt you and not feel good at all...and...and it’s just wrong.”

 

“Okay,” I said, but the whole thing still puzzled me.  We didn’t talk any more about it until the day a man called for an appointment and asked if I was going to be there and watch.  I knew it troubled my mom that she said yes to his question, but she also told the man it would cost more money.  I guess the other man must have told people about me.

 

That evening when the man showed up, Mom had me sit in a chair by the bed, wearing only panties and a little nightgown that hardly covered anything, though I didn’t have much to cover anyway.   This man looked at me like the other one had.  When they got undressed, I got a good look at the man’s penis.  It was sort of half-stiff and getting stiffer, probably because of my naked mom but maybe from looking at me too.

 

The man seemed like he was going to reach over and touch my butt, but Mom said, “Don’t you dare!”

 

In bed, the man whispered to my mother.  She hesitated, like she was thinking hard about what he said, then came over to me and said, “Honey, take off your panties and sit back in the chair, okay?  Mommy will explain later.”

 

While they were having sex, he kept looking at me, especially between my legs.  I wanted to cover up but I kind of knew what this was all about so I kept my legs apart so he could see.  For some reason, maybe because I now realized what the men were thinking while watching me watch them, or maybe because I was closer and got to see more of them and what they did, I began feeling funny, especially down between my legs where I was now totally exposed.  It was like an itch that I just HAD to scratch.  I put a hand down there and was surprised that I was wet, as if I’d peed a little, though I knew I hadn’t.  It was really warm there too.  Oh, maybe this feeling and the wetness was from thinking about sex, and maybe it was the same sort of thing as a man’s penis getting hard.  Wow, sex really was hot, I thought, and giggled to myself as I thought of “hot” and the elevated temperature between my legs.

 

When the man saw me touch myself, he moaned and put his head back.  I knew he was filling the condom with his sex juice—his cum (I heard all the men call it that). 

 

While my mom was cleaning up and the man was getting dressed, he snuck a feel of my butt and groaned.  His penis kind of jumped a little, not stiff but acting like it wanted to, before he pulled up his underpants.  I thought if my mom saw him touch me she would’ve killed him, but I sure liked it that he wanted to touch me.  I was very wet down there after that.

 

“You were a good girl,” Mom said after he left.  I told her about my feelings but didn’t tell her about the man looking at me or touching me.  She explained some more about sex, including teaching me words for my parts, like vulva, vagina, labia, and the clitoris.  She said because of my age, my clitoris wasn’t that developed yet, however, soon it would be very sensitive.  I thought how could a little piece of me that’s practically on the outside make sex feel good if the man was all the way inside?  I wondered but didn’t ask.

 

What I did ask was, “Next time, can I get closer, like on the bed, to watch?”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.  I don’t want to tempt a man into trying something with you.”

 

Mom’s work started picking up.  I wondered if it was because of me but Mom never acknowledged anything.  When she and a customer went into the bedroom, I took my panties off and sat in the chair near the bed.  I learned that if I did certain things, like suck on a finger or touch my vulva, the men would just burst and shoot their cum.

 

One customer was so handsome and had such a big penis that after Mom sucked on him until he was stiff, and she put a condom on him, I climbed onto the bed to get a closer look, and I supposed, to be next to him somehow.  Mom glanced at me and shook her head, but this time she seemed more excited than usual and didn’t protest my proximity that much.  The man wanted to do it from behind so she got on her hands and knees.  I saw that he was big for the condom and it was kind of stretched on his stiff penis.  I was still confused about whether big or small was better.   As he put it in my mom (Mom and the man called it “fucking” but I think that’s a dirty word and don’t like using it) he reached down and pulled me closer to them.  His hand was gentle as he rubbed my leg while holding my mom’s hip with the other hand.

 

I should have been scared, especially how my mother reacted if the men wanted to touch me, when this man touched my vulva and put a fingertip between my labia.  He looked down at me, surprised I guess, probably because he found it wet and slippery.  Did he realize I was like that because of him?

 

He ran his fingertip around and around near the top of my labia, like he was feeling for my clitoris.  I hadn’t understood about the sensitivity my mom talked of, but his touch sure felt great and I never wanted him to stop.  It was curious that as he went faster in my mom, his finger went faster as well. 

 

Deeper too.

 

When my mom grew louder and made some squealing sounds, I knew that was the “feel good” thing she called an orgasm.  The handsome man kept rubbing me as he went in and out of my mom.  He had his head back and his eyes closed, with two fingers a little ways inside me, when the sensation from his touch suddenly cascaded over me and I made some sounds of my own.

 

Mom was like a little sleepy after she made the most orgasm noises so she didn’t notice how I reached up and hugged the man’s butt.  I felt his butt muscles twitch so I knew he was cumming.  Oh, I felt so good just then!  What I experienced must have been an orgasm like my mother told me about, and she had one too!

 

He lifted me up and then kissed me on the lips.  He put his tongue in my mouth!  Through all this I should have been afraid but it all felt so wonderful, so right to have him touch me and kiss me.  He let go of me before Mom saw what he’d done.

 

After he left, Mom said, “He was something, wasn’t he.  Whew!  I haven’t had a good climax like that in ages.”

 

“Climax?  What’s that?”

 

“It’s another word for orgasm, that’s all.  Remember how I told you about them?”

 

I wanted to tell her I had one, but chickened out since then she’d know he had touched me and not let me be there with her any more.  As she showered, I touched myself down there to see if I was still wet, and I was.  I wondered if I could bring on those sensations with my own fingers.  I vowed to try it later in bed.  Mom was very happy afterwards.  She kept saying what a nice man the last customer had been and how much money he’d paid.  If she’d seen anything of what he’d done she kept it to herself.

 

Her work got even busier.  Lots of men, and lots of secret touches when Mom wasn’t looking.  I didn’t realize the changes in my mom until one customer was more brazen with wanting to touch me.

 

“How about her sitting on my face as you ride me cowgirl?” he asked.  I didn’t understand what he asked but was more surprised by Mom’s almost non-reaction.

 

“Extra,” she said, and quoted a price.  Wow, I was worth a lot!  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said, turning to me.  “All you have to do is like the nice man said, sit on his mouth and he’ll put his tongue there, that’s all.  Don’t be afraid, nothing to be afraid about.”  She stopped, then in a whisper, said, “If he does anything beyond that, or you don’t like it, say ‘no’ and I’ll make him stop.”

 

“But you always said—”

 

“I know, but now it’s different.  It won’t hurt and it’s only for a few minutes.”

 

The man was naked on the bed and his penis was very, very hard as Mom put a condom on and got on top, sliding it inside her.  She nodded to me as the man pulled me to him.  “Okay, little lady, come to papa,” he said.  He wasn’t my papa so him saying that was strange.

 

Facing my mom, I straddled his face as he wanted and sat down.  I guessed I wasn’t supposed to sit all the way down, for he held me up a little and started lapping my vulva.  Mom closed her eyes and moved up and down on him.  The man’s  tongue went deeper into me, and altogether made me feel as good as the other man’s fingers.

 

He kept muttering, “Oh baby...oh girl...so good...oh baby...mmmmmm...” between licks, as his tongue grew more aggressive in me.

 

Mom blinked her eyes open and gave me a dreamy smile.  She silently mouthed, “Good girl” to me as she bounced and swayed on the man’s penis.

 

The man groaned something like, “Here it comes,” though he was difficult to understand with me on his mouth.  Mom however knew what he meant, for she jumped off, pulled off the condom, and began rapidly rubbing her hand on his penis.  All of a sudden he groaned as several squirts of his cum juice flew up in the air, landing on him, my mom, and even a little hitting me in the chest.

 

The man moved me off him and laid me on the bed.  “Did I cum a lot?” he said.  “Here, let me rub that...someday you’ll have nice titties like your mom to rub cum all over.”  He rubbed the sticky liquid all over my chest and belly.  “How about a kiss?” he asked and pulled me on top of him and kissed me.

 

Mom said, “Enough, Joe, you’ve gotten your money’s worth.”

 

“And I’ll certainly be back for more of this,” he said as he quickly dressed.

 

“Mom, this is kinda fun,” I told her after.

 

“Don’t say that!  It’s not fun.”

 

“But you like it.”

 

“It’s my work, you know that.”  I didn’t argue more, though it WAS fun.

 

I wasn’t sure about how much more money Mom was charging when the men got to touch me, but it seemed we had more money to live on.  Mom began talking about a nicer place to live, and I had more and prettier clothes.

 

At each new appointment, the men grew bolder in their attention to me rather than my mother.  She wasn’t stopping them either.  One man stuck his finger deep into me so much it hurt.  Mom threw a fit but didn’t kick him out like I thought she would.  Another man came back again and again (he must have LOTS of money) and I liked him.  He called me his “little lady” and when he tickled me and played with me, I thought of him as maybe the father I never had.  He had a funny little mustache so when he licked me down there it tickled as well.  His penis was funny too, with like a curve in it.  I called it his “banana” and we both laughed when he said I should try to eat it like one.  Mom didn’t laugh.

 

I had a hard time figuring out what Mom was thinking.  She never really stopped men from doing what they wanted with me, though of course they didn’t try putting their penises in me, because they wouldn’t fit anyway.  My favorite man one time asked Mom if he could put the end of his hard penis on my “pussy” but not put it in.  He was so excited that all he did was place the tip there and he began squirting all over me.  I couldn’t stop giggling as all that hot juice trickled over my belly and between my legs.  Mom helped me clean up afterwards but never commented on what he did. 

 

I told her after he was gone, “That was cool!  But it really was warm so how could it be cool?” and then giggled uncontrollably at my own joke.  Mom wasn’t in a laughing mood, I guess.  She counted the money and put it away in her purse.

 

My life went on like that for a couple more years.  We moved twice, the apartments getting nicer as we did.  Mom had an operation and her boobs were now bigger than ever.  Hard too.  Men liked big boobs, I saw, and so I couldn’t wait until mine grew.  I only had little bumps on my chest, however men seemed to like mine as much as my mother’s.  Go figure.

 

Mom grew ever more complacent about how the men touched me, but she had begun to charge way more money for the privilege.  One day she asked me straight out if I wanted to do what she did.

 

“You mean, like do it all the way?” I said incredulously.  “I thought you didn’t want me to.”

 

“You’re like a natural, sweetheart, the way you come on to the men and how you tease them.  Maybe it’s time to put that cute little ass of yours to work.  I’ll set up a couple of my regulars for your first.”  She mentioned a couple of client names and asked if I remembered them.  I liked one guy more than the other she mentioned, and I told her so.  “Then he’ll be the one,” she said.

 

When the day came, I was so nervous.  I really didn’t know why, since I’ve been naked with men for a long while now, and had them touch me and cum on me.  Why should this be so much different?  I knew the answer: it WAS different, because the man would be doing it with ME; putting it in ME, not my mom.  I dressed in a gauzy, filmy nightgown that my mom had picked out, with nothing on underneath.  When the customer showed up at the door and he saw me, he looked like he’d have a heart attack.  Please, don’t let that happen, I prayed.

 

“Wow, you are the prettiest girl in the whole world,” he said.  I loved it when they say I’m pretty.

 

Mom said a few words to him, things I didn’t hear, though I knew she was setting some sort of rules for him, like what he could do and what he couldn’t.  He handed her a very thick envelope, which must have held a lot of cash.  I liked being valuable, too.

 

He held my hand as we walked to the bedroom.  “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”  I nodded that I was.

 

He started taking off his clothes right away.  When it was out, his cock was already stiff and leaking juice.  I liked the taste of ‘before’ juice better than the cum that came after, so I licked the end of it, which made him moan loudly.  After I licked and kissed him a few moments, he lifted me up and laid me on the bed.  I still had the nightie on, but he seemed to like that, rather than me being naked.  Maybe it was like making it a surprise or something, like keeping my body hidden until he was ready, though the way his cock throbbed and leaked, I figured he was already ready.

 

For the longest time he moved his hands all over my body, like he couldn’t believe this was—that I was— for real, then he said, “Can I eat you?”

 

“You mean my cunt?” I asked.  He looked like I shocked him with my blunt words.

 

“Y...Y...Yes,” he stammered.

 

I slipped out of my nightie and spread my legs for him.  He muttered, “Oh my God,” and suddenly began to ejaculate.  I never touched him either!

 

“Oh dear,” he said.  “I couldn’t help it...I couldn’t—”  Then his expression grew sad.  “Does that mean I can’t...?”

 

“You mean like put it in me?  I know you paid for an hour and there’s still more time.  You don’t think you can get hard again?”

 

He groaned and said, “Maybe if you...you know…”

 

“You can say it.  You want me to suck it to make it hard again, right?” 

 

His head nodded vigorously.  “Don’t let your mom know,” he whispered, “She might not let you.”

 

I giggled.  “Silly, you paid the money and it’s no big deal.”  I took his softened and leaking cock between my lips.  If he were hard I couldn’t take much in, but since he was soft I was able to put more of him in my mouth.  He liked it a lot and started to stiffen.  I was proud that I could do that to him.

 

When he was big again, he asked, “Can we?”

 

I helped him put the condom on, and then helped him spread lube around and between my labia.  He knelt between my spread legs and placed the end of his cock at my opening.  When he began to push it in, I gasped.  No matter how many of my mother’s toys, or how many cucumbers I’ve put in there to see how it would feel, I supposed you couldn’t simulate the real thing.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked.  His concern didn’t preclude him from going a little deeper, and soliciting another gasp.

 

“I’m okay,” I panted, though I wasn’t sure.

 

I hadn’t realized my mom was there, watching, until she also asked if I was okay.  I breathlessly answered her as well. 

 

He went deeper and began to go in and out.  I think it hurt more than felt good but I let him keep going, maybe to please Mom more than anything else.  It didn’t take him long to cum.  He groaned and I felt his penis throb inside me.  This—my first time—wasn’t how I thought it would be but it wasn’t terrible either.

 

He gave me a big kiss after and said, “You’re the prettiest little thing in the world.”

 

When he was gone, Mom asked me how I felt.  I told her it hurt a little and I didn’t have the same great feeling I had when they put their tongues in me.  She explained that the customer got too excited and didn’t try to make me feel as good as he did.  “That’s to be expected, since they pay for it, so it’s about their pleasure not mine—or yours.”

 

“Does it always like, hurt when they put it in?” I asked.

 

“No hon, remember how I said you’re small down there compared to me, so even though the man isn’t huge it still has to stretch your vagina a little to go in.

 

That’s how it went; a succession of men.  Some hurt, some didn’t (the size thing—I still didn’t know how big could be better.)  Mom collected the money; didn’t have to have sex as often anymore since a lot of the men just wanted me, and so she loved it.  If I hurt a little after, she’d just tell me to put some ointment she had on it and it would be better.  Most of the time it worked.

 

Deep down I always knew this was wrong, yet it was also the only life I really had.  As I got older it seemed natural not to have close friends who I could confide in.  Besides, even if it hurt a bit every once in a while, I still basically had fun.  The men were always nice to me.  They bought me things like fancy underwear and jewelry.  I liked that.  One day I saw a story on the news about a man who was arrested for having sex with a girl around my age.  I asked mom if we could get arrested.  She told me yes, but she was careful to only see men who she knew (she called them “regulars”) and didn’t advertise like others did.  She didn’t allay my fears very much, but on the other hand what could I do?

 

I can’t pinpoint the exact time I had an orgasm without pain, but soon after that I realized my mom grew hostile toward me, though it was subtle at first.  Pure jealousy was what it was.  The men now wanted me, not her.

 

I angrily confronted her one day.  “How come you don’t see clients anymore?  Men don’t all want young girls.  Maybe you need to earn the money instead of always me.”

 

She tried to slap me but I was faster.  She yelled, “You ungrateful little bitch!  Don’t you have everything you want?  What more?”

 

“’Everything I want’ I get working, like you used to do.”  I saw how my words stung her.   I didn’t have the desire to fight with her; a client was coming over soon, a nice guy we called Sam.

 

I liked Sam.  He was extremely polite, always wanting to know if I was okay.  That evening, Sam brought me a long gold chain with a small butterfly pendant attached, and explained that it would encircle my waist and be pretty when I had nothing else on.  I thought it was beautiful, and allowed him to undress me and put it on.  I posed for him like a model, and I saw how hard he got looking at me.  I teased him a bit, nibbling on the head of his cock, not really sucking him.  He was leaking so much of the juice mom told me was called precum.  I enjoyed the taste of precum on my tongue.  I looked up at him, smiled, and batted my eyelashes.  By his facial expression I thought he would cum right then and there.

 

I unwrapped a condom and put it on him.  He was sticking straight up.  Some men when stiff stick out, but Sam’s was pointing right to the ceiling.  The condom was a lubed one, but I rubbed on extra lube, rubbing a little between my labia afterwards.  He lifted me into his arms, and I thought he was going to carry me to the bed.  Instead, still holding me, he lowered me onto his cock!

 

He was strong, so he just lifted me up and down on him, saying, “Oh, you’re so tight...I can’t believe this...so tight...oh...”

 

I felt like I was swinging in a swing, though each arc brought ecstatic penetration, not childhood flight.  I felt the chain bounce and jiggle as I bounced, and that just added to the sensations of sex.  His groaning and exhortations grew more fervent so I knew he was going to cum.  He really did fill me up when he was at his hardest—no wonder he proclaimed how tight I was—so that when he did ejaculate I felt every throb of his pumping cock.  The whole process of a man’s orgasm still amazed me, so along with feeling it, my imagining of what was going on inside set off my orgasm too.

 

“Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” I hollered.  My orgasm somehow elicited a couple more ejaculatory spasms out of him.  I thought that was way cool.

 

As he grew soft and then popped out of me, he kissed me, first on my lips and then all over my little breasts and tummy.  I giggled; it tickled and I reveled in the attention.  I pulled the condom off and commented, “Wow, you came a lot!”  Men seemed to like it when I said stuff like that.

 

“You’re so incredible,” he said.  “This is like a dream come true...to be...with you.”

 

I told him that I enjoyed him too and that he could see me any time he wanted (as long as he paid, of course.)  I jangled the chain and touched the butterfly pendant, thanking him for it and reiterating how pretty I thought it was.  I wanted to ask him if it was okay to wear it when with other men, but that was probably a bad idea.  Mom always said that every customer has to be fooled into thinking that he’s the only one.  Silly, but I guess she’s right.

 

My teen years were spent like that, seeing as many men as I could and demanding my share of the money.  Mom was against it, but what could she say, since I was now the main money maker.  I started a bank account, telling myself it was a college fund, but who was I kidding.  This life—prostitution—was all I ever knew.  What else was I to do with my life?

 

I realized early on that once the ‘draw’ of my girlhood was gone, I had to have another draw.  My petite frame helped in that regard, and my exercise regimen, my smallish breasts, shaved pussy, and the fake braces helped maintain the illusion of preadolescence.  When I was seventeen, I fucked a customer who seemed to be wealthy.  Richard told me he was in town for a meeting and that he was from New York.  He told me how special I was and asked me if I would accompany him to the City.  I knew the score.  This wasn’t some fairytale story, but an offer to be the man’s concubine.  I accepted immediately.

 

He lived in a fantastic apartment in a NYC high-rise.  He bought me some great clothes, but mostly they were little girl styles.  I knew what the attraction was, and was willing to play along.  I let him fuck me whenever he wanted, and while he was away at the office I either lounged around, or spent his money.  He particularly liked me on top, cowgirl style, and I rode him like no cowgirl he’d ever known.  The secret was that this position had become my favorite.  I climaxed almost every time, unlike other positions.

 

I rarely called my mom, who had to return to almost full time sex to make ends meet, since quite a few of her regulars abandoned her once they knew I was no longer part of the package.  I felt sorry for her, but it didn’t last long.

 

Like I said, no illusions; Richard inevitably grew tired of me, so we made a business arrangement, something that was his specialty, after all.  He’d let me stay and I would pay him a percentage of my take.  Yes, I would be a call girl, and he would be in essence my pimp.  Richard provided word of mouth advertisement to some of his business associates, and soon I had a thriving business with an expanding clientele.

 

Almost all of them wanted a father-daughter incest fantasy to come true.  I became, at least for an hour or two, their little girl, hearing lots of “Daddy loves you” talk.  When I came, or when I faked it, I made sure my orgasmic squeals were as childlike as I could make them.  They paid dearly for the performance.

 

Perhaps you’ve seen my web site?  That’s me, the NYC call girl with the girlish name and the girlish looks.  The one willing to travel, promising that once you try me you’ll never forget me and you’re guaranteed to come back for more.  I’m the one who wears the slinky gold chain around my waist, the one with the butterfly pendant; the one who loves to ride you—my renting stallion—like a good cowgirl should.

 

It’s my life, the only one I can remember living.

 

The End

 

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