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Subject: {ASSM} Living Rich [ a Tiffany Story ]
Date: Sun, 18 Jun 2000 06:10:03 -0400
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Living Rich
By: Tiffany
HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com
I married a man twenty years my senior, but I married him for all the right
reasons - money. He had it; I didn't; and I had three kids to feed, clothe,
and play chauffer for with a car that didn't run half the time and guzzled
gas I couldn't afford when it did. His was the best offer I'd had since my
ex skipped out on child support and alimony, leaving me with few options,
one being selling my sexual favors, which I would never resort to unless I
had to. More and more, I had to until I had to every week, then every other
day, then every day, and an everyday whore can't hide from three children in
a cheap two-bedroom apartment after school lets out for the summer.
A mother does what she must, but I could have gone on welfare before
resorting to the oldest profession. My two biggest aversions are the outside
work place and the welfare system. One is alien and frightening; the other
is demeaning and sucks. If you take those two options away from a woman who
has never had difficulty attracting men, then place her in a low-rent
environment where the men keep telling her she is sitting on a gold mine,
and she can see other miners hard at work mining gold...well, sooner or
later, she will grab a pick and shovel.
I'm sure there aren't many hooker moms because it is just so damn difficult
to do a professional job when you have kids in the next room and walls so
thin a stifled sneeze will always bring three bless-yous. A mother can only
imagine what else they heard that they didn't bless.
I used to be such a good mom, too - modest, never a hair out of place,
cooked fancy dinners, cleaned house, ran errands, attended church, active in
school functions. I had privacy, a private sex life, pubic hair and
everything - a real, regular, typical mom who might cry DAMN if she stubbed
her toe, but nothing worse than that if there were any chance a tender ear
might hear.
Low-rent men are awful. They will not talk at a whisper during sex, not if
they know kids are eaves dropping. I have two girls and a boy. In my whore
year, my girls were twelve and ten going on twenty. The boy was only eight,
but he knew what a whore was, and knew the going rate for short-time pussy.
Turns out I was giving it away at ten bucks a pop, even for the low-rent
clientele I serviced. My blow jobs at five bucks were fifteen under the mean
market average for the apartment complex we lived in. Hell, I didn't know,
and didn't know real pros were pissed at me until they sliced my tires and
wrote TWO-BIT WHOREMOBILE in red paint all over my white Oldsmobile. We
ended up with a red Oldsmobile painted by a mom and three kids with
one-inch-wide paint brushes. Let me tell you, that was one butt-ugly
automobile after we finished.
I didn't have to explain whore to the kids, but no-one knew what a two-bit
was. I wasn't sure but I thought it as twenty-five cents. Since I wasn't
sure, I told them it meant five dollars, that a bit must be two dollars and
fifty cents. After that, it was Mom I need one bit for this or five bits for
that. Casey got new shoes that cost ten bits. The salesman, bless his heart,
corrected her. She wasn't getting no shoes for no buck twenty-five. Of
course, she and Karen gave me a look like, "You fuck losers for a quarter?"
That was the look I was trying to avoid.
I set those girls straight just as soon as we were out of that store. I let
them know I never let any man stick a hard cock in any of my lower holes and
pump me full of cum for any less than ten whole dollars - eighty bits. I
didn't put it in quite those terms but might as well have. My little Gregory
was quick to tell me that any hole on a whore was worth twenty if she takes
the cum shot. I always did and said, "Really, twenty, any hole?"
No wonder those whores were pissed. No wonder I became so popular so
quickly. I sure sucked a lot of dick. You would think one of those men would
inform me that I was selling myself so cheap. I suppose not. I guess the
rule is, never look a gift whore in the mouth, especially if she's sucking
you off for five bucks, or as we used to say, two bits. For a while, the
kids thought I was a two-bit whore but didn't want to advertise.
You can imagine the living situation. Men were constantly cumming and going,
and often with naked cocks - hard going in; soft going out. Those economy
Johns got a cheap thrill out of showing kids the cock their mother would
have in her mouth, or had in her mouth. The kids saw a great deal of nudity,
mostly mine. Men who pay for any sexual service insist on getting any
service in the nude. With so many customers, dressing and undressing seemed
pointless, especially when most men insist I see them to the door as is - as
in can't wipe.
At first, I was dragged along. After a while, you just don't care. A few
weeks into summer, the kids wouldn't bother looking up from cartoons. That
got to be such a problem, I had to sit them down and tell them how rude it
was not to stare, and it was rude. For many of my customers, showing the
kids the mess they made of their mother was the highlight. I lost valuable
customers over their rudeness.
Sounds crazy, but whoring is a business, and you take on a business
mentality. Rude behavior hurts any business. If my business was working with
the handicapped, staring would be rude, but I work with perverts. With them,
not staring is rude. My kids didn't understand that, but I got them to go
back to staring at my cummy legs, fucked cunt, and reamed ass, and make the
shocked or disgusted faces the men liked to see. Casey, my oldest, did a
good shocked, and Karen had disgust down pat. Gregory acted enthralled, but
he wasn't acting. Generally, he was enthralled and was only distracted by
Scoobie Doo or Bugs Bunny.
They saw a lot of sex, too, mostly blow jobs, but fucking, too, and
butt-fucking, too, and two losers fucking me after whining for a group
discount - two holes for the price of one and a half. I wouldn't do anything
kinky. I was just a straight whore. Some offers were very tempting, but I
was making my bills and getting by. I only did what I had to and fully
intended to stop doing that just as soon as the state found my ex and
arrested his ass. The bastard owed me a small fortune. To get out of jail,
he'd pay it. I waited and hoped, fucked and sucked, economized where I
could, but I never went on welfare. I was proud of that. There wasn't much
else to be proud of.
I will say, my kids were great and never made me feel like a filthy whore -
whore, yes, but not a filthy whore doing something dirty because she likes
doing dirty things with men. They knew the difference. They knew who the
sluts were. Sluts advertise their wares and services outside. All my
advertising was word of mouth. What I would do with my mouth got around
quickly. Our apartment soon became THE place to go for a blow job. My mouth
was THE place to cum for the redneck on the go. Some would get right inside
the door, stick a dick in my mouth, and start jacking off. The kids would
gather around and stare. They were never rude during a blow job. Pump, pump,
squirt, squirt, another two bits for the cookie jar. Way ta go, Mom.
Sucking cock with my kids looking on was never easy, and I did that much
more often than any mother should. The trick is to put them out of your mind
and focus totally on the cock. To get the repeat business, you have to love
sucking cock and love eating cum. If you do it right, you will look bad. You
will look like you love sucking cock. Okay, I do love sucking cock and
sucked a lot on credit, but I also hammed it up. I'm not sure my children
knew, but that wasn't important. They accepted that their mother loved
sucking cock and liked it when men ejaculated into her mouth. They had no
problem with that, so I never had to offer explanations or make apologies
for loving my work when my work was sucking cock. A blowjob whore couldn't
ask for better kids. They were very rude and most supportive.
My current husband, Leland, became a regular, but he wasn't one of the local
lowlifes. One of the local lowlifes worked for him and told him about the
babe who loved giving head in front of her kids. I suppose it did look that
way, and in all honesty, by the time Leland entered the picture in mid
summer, I rather enjoyed having the kids watch and would often play with my
pussy or fuck myself with something while I took my time and enjoyed a hunky
meal. For them, watching Mommy fuck herself was the major attraction. If I
weren't getting paid to do that, I could only do it while sucking cock.
Leland ate that shit up and was a big tipper. I'd get my two-bits and two
more for a tip - ten bucks to suck a dick I'd suck for free. The man had a
gorgeous cock - long and slender - big balls - delicious cum. The man was a
meal with one of the few big cocks I could deep throat because the head was
no bigger than the shaft. He went down easy and went down far. Naturally, he
got the red carpet treatment. He wanted the kids to see everything we did,
and we did everything. He also tipped two-bits for fucks. I made big bucks
off Leland. One day, he asked me if I would marry him. I thought about it
while sucking his dick and said yes after I swallowed.
So, late in the summer we get married - pre-nuptial agreement, of course. Me
and my three move into a big fancy house with maid service. We live the
life. He even has a heated pool. My kids are in heaven. They are all part
fish. He buys the girls new swimsuits. They owned swimsuits but their own
suits actually covered something. I didn't say anything because I expected
he'd want them to swim naked. I suppose he bought suits to his liking
because I never tolerated anyone messing with my kids in any way shape or
form. I made the girls wear boy's clothing - long sleeves, long pants, all
buttoned up - out of sight, out of mind.
I made an exception for Leland. He wanted to see them in dresses looking
pretty and sexy like girls should. They showed flesh and panties, acted
silly and sexy, took great interest in his cock and everything he did with
his cock. They took it upon themselves to excite Leland. After he proposed
marriage and I accepted, his was the one cock they could touch.
I knew he wanted them, but so did most of my customers. By the time Leland
came along, I was beyond the shock. Wanting tight young pussy was the norm.
Leland was different because he was never crude or obvious. He never came
right out and said what he wanted to do to them, and he never called them
sexy little cunts. That did make a difference, but the big difference was
money. I never dreamed he'd propose marriage, but I saw Leland as a
potential way out, a sugar daddy.
I was under constant pressure to bring my daughters into the business, and
not just from pervert customers. The girls wanted to pitch in and help out.
They assured me they could do a lot more than stare and make good faces. I
didn't doubt that. Their favorite game was whore and John. Gregory got to
play the John, and I got to see them as they see me. It wasn't pretty or
flattering, but kids will mimic their role models. A good and decent mom
never loses sight of that fact, and a whore simply must accept the behavior
she sees, even sibling fucking and sucking. At least they were playing nice
together and including their kid brother for a change. Yes, some of those
offers were quite tempting.
Nothing really changed after the marriage went down. We moved in, but I was
still a whore. The only difference was, I did all of my whoring for Leland.
He shared me with his close friends and wanted the kids to watch. That was a
big deal to his friends, but my kids saw much worse much more often at the
apartments. The kids tried not to be rude, but it was pretty fucking boring
much of the time - boring for them and for me. Leland's friends were old
guys with not much fucking left in them. Keeping them up was a challenge.
For shear excitement, give me a redneck who just got a promotion, or a
redneck celebrating anything before he gets too drunk. Blacks were great
when they got laid off. Mexicans were terrific following a wedding, and
Orientals were fantastic after seeing a Kung Fu movie. All wanted to
celebrate life with a few buddies, a case of beer, and a shameless whore
with young kids who get to watch. Compared to any of that, Leland and the
Country Club boys were a yawner.
I felt sorry for those men who had everything and could not get wildly
exuberant over the simple pleasures of life, or anything in life. I had to
rethink my definition of rich. What was the point if riches didn't bring
happiness and bliss. Riches did bring security. I did value that, but is
security worth what you give up. We were not a pleasure; we were an
amusement. They lived their life for amusements. Poor folk lived for the
pleasures, and for most, watching a mother suck their cock in front of her
children was a great pleasure, a real treat that never got old. Gang banging
her was a major highlight in life, a treasured memory. You can't help but
get caught up in that celebration of life, even though you are the one being
used like a living fuck rag.
I went into that marriage with the full expectation that Leland would use my
children as an amusement. I resolved myself to that fact and discussed it
with the kids. They were fine with that, even Gregory who understood that
men would use him the way they use me. Big men, especially black men worried
him, but he liked Leland's cock as much as the girls did. They loved ass
fucking and used my strap-on to take turns ass fucking each other. I owned
one the size of Leland because some men want to get fucked in the ass,
especially when life dealt them a cruel blow. Getting fucked in the ass by a
whore seemed to help.
There wasn't anything Leland could do to them that they weren't ready to
have done, and they were tired of lifeless India rubber. They were tired of
playing games, and tired of being spectators. They were ready to live the
life they had been seeing, even as a human fuck rag. That was, in fact, the
role they all wanted. I guess I made it look good. That wasn't my intent,
but I certainly understood.
Part of me wanted to hunt my ex down like and animal and kill him for what
he did to us. I never would have taken that path in life had he simply done
what the court decreed was just and fair. Another part had no regrets. My
kids were happy and we never would have become that close, been that
intimate, or felt so interdependent. I can't explain how close we all
became - no secrets, no inhibitions, none - total openness and acceptance
going both ways.
My kids loved me more than ever. Sure, I was a shameless whore, but a hero
whore. I made sacrifices that netted them quality stuff they could take
pride in. I swallowed my pride for them, and they adored me for it. That
never would have happened had my ex not acted like the asshole he was. Part
of me wanted to thank him for the push to my knees.
Now, I was an even bigger hero. I landed a sugar daddy with a heated pool,
and they all liked Leland, not just his cock. He genuinely liked them, and
not just the girls. He got along great with Gregory. He thought Gregory was
one sharp kid with great potential. I think he took the marriage option
because he wanted to be their daddy. I said yes because I sensed that. I
witnessed many touching acts of fatherly conduct after saying yes. I stood
back in shadow one night and cried while watching him read Moby Dick to
them. They were all hanging on him and his every word.
You have no idea how good that made me feel. I had no romantic feels for
Leland, and he had none for me, but after seeing that scene, he won a
mother's heart. I could think of no father I would rather see my kids look
up to and emulate, and I knew he wanted to sexually molest them all. I also
knew that Leland only felt sexual briefly and occasionally. For the most
part, Leland was a warm, kind, loving man who loved kids and liked
stimulating their minds. No other man ever gave a shit about their minds. A
mother raises minds; a father raises bodies. In Leland, I had a mommy's
helper who enjoyed helping. Is it any wonder I cried.
Is it any wonder I let that man do anything he wanted to do with my kids.
The days and weeks that followed only served to ease my mind, revealing a
Leland I suspected from the very first. He was Santa with a hardon. He would
do anything to make a child smile. Their laughter was a sweet music.
Watching them play soothed a tender spirit that yearned for his own carefree
youth when bug races could race his heart and a butterfly's wings in
brilliant sunlight could awe and mesmerize. He played marbles in the dirt
and got excited when he finally got the hang of back spin, which kept his
shooter in the ring and gave him a fighting chance to beat THE King. He
finally beat THE King and was like a redneck who just made foreman of the
ditch crew.
I laughed; I cried; I helped him celebrate. The kids held me while he fucked
me like THE King. Those kids took thirty years off that man - fifty at
times. What value does a rich man put on that? Clearly, their value was
priceless.
I was a great enigma to him and only became a greater enigma as time wore on
and I never once raised an eyebrow or objection at anything. I know he
worried about me and took sexual things very slow - timid - unsure - testing
his limits while being fearful of going over my line. I could have eased his
mind, but I preferred he go slow and savor the experience. The one thing I
did know was that nothing that came easy was of much value. I made him work
me and gave him no reason to think he didn't have to. He took liberties by
small degrees while watching me closely.
He mostly wanted my trust and wanted time alone with the kids. For that, he
was willing to pay. He bought me my dream car, a red Mustang convertible,
and it came with a credit card with no limit. It also came with all the
freedom I wanted. Go - enjoy - have fun. I went; I enjoyed; I had fun. I
have no doubt he went all the way behind my back, and the kids were as happy
as he was to see me go. I went without the slightest care for days on end
and returned to smiling kids and a most grateful Leland. He was grateful
that I trusted him. I was greatful for the freedom.
We were deliriously happy - me, Leland, Casey, Karen, and Gregory. We were
so happy that love gradually blossomed between me and Leland. No longer an
enigma or a whore, he saw something he could love, and began showing me that
love. I began returning it. One day, while holding me and looking deep into
my eyes, he asked me to be his wife. I knew exactly what he meant. I didn't
hesitate. I told him I would be proud to be his wife and be as faithful as
he wanted me to be. He had to think about that, but we became man and wife
with a kiss three months after we were married.
I buried Leland in the Spring of 1996 and stood teary-eyed over his fresh
grave. We spent eighteen glorious years together. We raised three fine kids
who now stood beside me as sad as I was. Gregory ran his father's business
empire. Casey married well and had a beautiful family of her own. Karen was
still single but was a senior partner in a law firm, doing very well. She
had the world by the balls and was having a ball. She owed all that to
Leland. We all owed so much to Leland. Then again, we showed him how to be
rich and suck the marrow from the bone of life. He died rich and smiling. He
left us rich and smiling. I suppose we were all even. Still, we were sad and
held each other close, as close as ever, as it should be.
Mothers do raise minds, and a good whore can do that as well as anyone. We
are sexual beings, and children are young sexual beings. Knowledge of sex
does no harm, but neglect and distance does. You can't hold a child close
enough or give a child too much love and affection. I have no regrets, but I
pitty the fools who think they are protecting their children by shielding
them from the real world and sex, or moms who can't scream MOTHER FUCKER
when they stub a toe. DAMN just doesn't do it and won't make children laugh.
Laugh all the way to the grave and you will die young at heart and rich in
spirit. Not a bad epitath, and Leland came up with that on his own. I was
more than happy to have that placed on his headstone. After reading it, we
left the grave site smiling.
The End
Read other stories by the same author by visiting Phantom Base at
HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com
CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex
practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open
sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex,
body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy
and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before
you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can
all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to
other minors. PP
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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