Confessions of a Real Life Whore

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A story exploring the life of a prositute.
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Dear Diary,

My name is Amaya Fernanda and it is a whole lot harder for me to write these things and admit to them, then it is for you to read them.

I guess I try not to think of myself as a whore. I mean who really stops and gets up every morning thinking, "Hey I am a whore, wonder who I will fuck today?" That kinda sentiment is best reserved for bad porn scripts. The truth of the matter is no one sets out in life to be a whore, and no one wakes up every morning looks in the mirror and admits with pride that is what they are, and yet the truth of the matter is there are still many of us out there in the world if we admit it to ourselves or not.

I can honestly look you in the face and tell you I don't think of myself as a whore, I have all kinds of ways I justify it but deep down inside I know that by the standards of the society we all live in the truth of the matter is I am a total whore. And as odd as it is seeing myself typing this at the same time it is also very liberating to get the words out and actually admit it even if it is just on paper and I never intend to show this document to anyone but myself. So here goes (taking a deep breath) the honest truth, no matter how I justify it, or how bad I need the money, or how fucking fucked up my life is and how I really have no choice to do what I do the truth of the matter is, I do guys (and the occasional girl) for money. There I said it! I am a whore. I sell my ass, I sell my body, I sell my sexual acts for money.

And yes, I am not proud of it at all. Anyone who actually thinks any girl can be is a moron. Sure I act like I am and I even tell those who know what I do that I am proud of it and that is makes me good money and no one can judge and I even pretend I like all the male attention I get. Sure I pretend it makes me feel sexy that all these men pay to see me nude and to use my body and they give up good hard earned money for me to spread my legs or bend over, or open my mouth and let them in, but the truth of the matter is it is not flattering at all, and no matter how many times you do it, nor how drunk or stoned you are (if that is your thing) each and every time it is humiliating, degrading, and morally bankrupting. Each time, even if you orgasm, it does not help, you still feel used, skanky, and worthless. No one really ever loves you, there is nothing meaningful or even tender in it. They just need a pretty piece of meat to get them off like a good little fuck machine, so I do my part and talk trash, pretend I like being degraded, become their little "energizer fuck bunny" and they give me their money but never their affections.

I don't really know what it is or why but the worse for me is when I guy pops his junk on my face or in my mouth. Honestly in is more personal to me then fucking a guy and having him cum inside me bare back. I just feel so cheap when they do that on my face, like I am "a nothing", or not a person, like I am just his "jiss jar" or "spew receptor". And I can't help it I have to look in their eyes whenever they are blowing on my face on in my mouth. It is like I become fixed on their eyes. I know they think I am trying to be all sexy and GFE for them, but I am not! Trust me what I am doing is studying their face, their lines, their eye contact and trying to figure out what the hell could be going on in their sick fucking heads to make them want to use me, a real live girl, with a real life and struggles as their personal cum rag. Nothing belittles me more, yet I let them-- all who want it, do that to my face and even more. Each time I feel like for sure I will gag or vomit it all up right there, but I don't-- I force it down, all of it down, I know it is best for business that way.

Maybe you think I deserve it for being such a whore in the first place right? Guys like me to say that to them while they do me, that I deserve it, that I am their little whore or slut or even pig, and I say it all and more, the more I say it the faster they spew the quicker I am out of there. But the truth of the matter is I like most whores don't deserve it and we never dreamed we'd ever end up doing what we do now, and it never started out like this at all. I actually came from a very strict Hispanic Catholic family. Yes we were pretty poor, but we were all good people and raised right like in the old country. My dad would have tanned my ass if even thought I kissed a boy let alone blew one or jacked him off. My problem was I was pretty and exotic and attracted a lot of male attention. I liked the party life and being popular and admired, guys bought me booze, drugs, and even gifts just for dating them and I was not even putting out back then.

But my parents did not approve of my party life, and when the caught on I had to choose between being a popular little party girl or living at home. I moved out. At first I did some shitty minimum wage jobs, fast fooding it and shit like that. Then I said fuck that, and began waitressing in a bar and then my roommate told me I could triple my tips slinging beer at a strip club. Hell I had no intention of taking it off for anyone other than a boyfriend. I was just there to sling drinks. Then I saw the money those stripper girls were bringing home, each night! If I brought home 50 bucks in tips they had 300-400 for each 50 I made. I got real fucking jealous fast and with some pressure from management I soon started dancing.

Hell it was humiliating, but I was doing it on the other side of town and no one knew me. My take home money fastly doubled but I never made near as much as the other girls not matter how much I worked and I damn well knew I was doing more dances. Finally my friend clued me in to what really happened back in the campaign rooms but I swore I would never ever do that. It grossed me out and quite honestly totally pissed me off when a customer would ask for something more than a dance. I am proud to admit I stuck to my guns for the better part of a whole year. I made good money, and all I did was dance. I had a new car, a super nice apartment, and I was still a popular party girl and no one but my roommate knew my other life, I was pretty happy that is until my roommate got hooked on drugs and went to live with her druggie boy friend and stuck me up for several months worth of rent. Bills mounted and car payments needed to be made, and the stress got to me coupled by the fact that most of the other girls that danced did it so all the guys kept pressuring me even though I made it clear I did not they kept hounding.

One night I was really quite tipsy and actually getting kinda horny dancing for this regular when he just said something that made sense to me in my half drunk mind.

"Look you grind on my already during a lap dance, for twenty bucks a song, why not move the towel aside and dry hump me with your pussy against my underwear letting feel you up until I cum for 50 bucks a song. Over double the money for the same work, you let me cum, and I go clean up in the restroom and no one is more the wiser?"

Drying humping for 50 bucks a song very quickly turned into to jacking guys off for 75 a song to covered blow jobs for 150-200 bucks a song. The more money I made the better and more expensive my lifestyle got, and the more alcohol and drugs I did -- but in my mind I had convinced myself it was all in fun and I was still the life of the party and always had a clueless boy friend and was still "little miss popular" with all my friends. After all I reasoned in my head I was not fucking anyone at all, and what I was doing was no worse than a fucking lap dance I was just getting the money I deserved for nearly the same work.

I kept this up for the better part of a year. No one did in club fucks where I worked, it was too risky. Yes, it goes on in some clubs who just don't care, but something like that can shut a club right down for good if a cop trapped a girl so if a bouncer caught you fucking in the club you were gone. But it was harder to tell when you where jacking or even blowing a guy from a distance in a dark campaign room. Besides slipping a bouncer a 50 or a given him a free tug after hours pretty much got you off the hook for something small like that. They knew it went on and it kept the customers coming backs so everyone was happy.

However some girls did after hours fucks. That meant they met a customer at a hotel, or home, or in his car, after the club closed and fucked. The going rate was 500 bucks a fuck and the customer usually gave 250 down and the other 250 at the fuck meet.

My first after hours guy was Jimmy, a guy I had been jacking off and cover blowing in the campaign room for a several months a couple times a week. He spent a lot of money on me and always bought me drinks. He was a clean cut married business man. He always treated me really good and I enjoy getting his rocks of cuz he was not the usual fat, unshaved, slob I ended up whacking off. I'd even let Jimmy rub my pussy and play with my nipples (which was a huge no no) while I covered blew him. Honestly I know it is sad to admit but I think being with him so often in the campaign room and how nice he treated me even made me had a little bit of a crush on him. One night he bought me a lot of drinks close to closing and got me really drunk. I should have saw what he was up too but I was crushing on him and then I got drunk and he really got me worked up rubbing my pussy and I nearly cummed. Then when I was half sloshed he pulled out 300 bucks and offered it to me now and 300 more back at his room later if I'd fuck him. That night I left club with Jimmy.

I remember I rode him cowboy style fast and hard sticking my firm tits in his face so I would not have to look at him while I did it. I knew it was wrong, and I felt like I should stop but I did not. I rode him hard and fast in a cheap hourly hotel room and hopped off him and left as soon as he cummed and got me the rest of my money. I barely said two words to him the whole time and avoided all eye contact.

I can't tell you how dirty and sick I felt afterwards. Drunk or not this so no party anymore, and I yet I knew no matter how hard I promised myself never to do it again, I had crossed a line I could never take back. I felt like the total douche bag later that week when I fucked my boyfriend. The guilt of him telling me he loved me while we made love and me knowing and reliving in my head how I had whored myself was too much and I actually cried as we did it. He must have thought I was really fucked in the head. I swore to myself I would never cheat on him again. But several nights later I was back in the cheap hourly hotel room with Jimmy. The money was just too good and too easy to stop no matter how much I felt guilty. Once you cross that line it is so hard to take it back. I felt so horrible whenever my boyfriend touched me because I knew I was cheating on him for money and that if I loved him I needed to stop, and I would promise myself I'd stop but then a great offer would come along and I say to myself, "just this one last time." Finally I just totally left my boy friend and pretty much from then on only fucked when paid...there was less guilt that way.

I had been doing after hours fucks for several months, with more and more customers. I only fucked married men because they always were very discrete because they did not want to get caught, and they tended to be more clean, and never asked nor wanted anything uncovered because they could not risk bringing anything home to the wifey. I never asked names, and never wanted to know, never kissed them or made eye contact during sex, and never made it personal -- I just rode them, got paid, and left. I even avoided doing the same guys over and over, because there was no shortage of guys from the club, and I did not want to get hooked on one like Jimmy ever again.

Yet it was not long and I started to feel really bad about myself and really hit the alcohol hard. But even drinking hard I was still making a fortune and stashing tons away, I had almost 20 grand in the bank and I kept telling myself I would quit and use the money to go back to school and start a new life, after all I was only 25 years old. And no shit I meant it and almost made it. I was going to AA and seeing a counselor about my self esteem and everything, and she almost had me stopped when one night in an after hours session back at a hotel a condemn broke.

Fuck, it had to happen sometime. I felt it break and tried to get off him, but it was too late I felt the load shooting up me. I washed my pussy out afterwards and was scared to death of HIV. I finally broke down and when to the health department to be anonymously tested. I results came back STD free but pregnancy positive. I was stunned.

I don't even know my baby's dad's name, and it is even hard now to remember his face all I know for sure was he was black, and her skin tone ensures she will know it too. I have no fucking idea what I will tell her when she finally gets old enough to ask. I am so ashamed. How the hell did I let this happen to me, how could I let my baby be a fucking little bastard, who will never ever have any hope of finding nor knowing her dad, fuck I am such a worthless piece of shit! How will she ever forgive me? How can I ever forgive myself? I can't.

The better part of my savings went into the hospital bills for her birth and care. I may be a whore and my baby a bastard but I won't let her be a welfare case that much I promise. After the birth no clubs would take me back because of the over profound stretch marks from birthing. Besides I needed day time hours now since my family disowned me for having child out of wedlock -- a black one at that.

So I signed up with and escort service and I work in the day time 9-5 like everyone else and my little sweetie goes to day care while mommy goes to work taking calls at an in service and out service agency. The way it works is I pay the agency 50 percent of what I get for doing a guy at their location or 60 percent if a driver has to take me to a hotel and wait from me in his car. But they do all the advertising and dispatching, and don't have to provide transport or a fuck location, or even buy the condemns. They take care of it all, and that way no one including my baby has any idea what I do all day long.

Even though I work for a reasonably up scale agency I am not a 21 years old anymore, and I have lost some of my shape and tightness from birthing so I had to work hard to get regular customers and keep them and that means gone are the days of dry humping, jacking off, and covered blow jobs. In are the times of uncover blow jobs, cum on face, cum in mouth, swallowing (extra), covered anal, covered fucking, large objects and toys, and other reasonable safe requests including light pee play (a lot extra), cock gagging, light spanking and tit and face slapping. Gone are the times of doing only married guys--I do married, single, divorced, old, scruffy, short, fat, and pretty much anyone reasonably clean. I have also done couples, and single women, and even been shared by several guys more than a few times now and ever been paid to "dp" a couple times.

I can't tell you the level of shame and guilt I live with everyday. And I can't stop now-- I have a kid to raise. And I would be lying if I told you I am just numb to it by now. I am not. No one is. I have seen and still see girls who blow their minds right out on crack when they do this, and yet they still feel like nothing more than a dirty shit eating pig each and every time a guy rolls off them or spews in their mouth.

I mean I lay there telling guys how awesome they are and how good their great big fat cocks feels and the whole time I want to vomit, even when I am cumming, and yes I still cum. More than you would think, and I use to feel really guilty about that too. But truth be told it is a biological function if a guy or girl hits it in the right place for me I will cum for real, not just fake it, no matter how fat, or hairy they are. I am a human, and I fuck in 8 hour shifts, how could I not be horny! The mistake most guys make is in thinking a whore is always faking it and thus only worrying about getting themselves off. That is not true, no matter how you look or how much you paid, whores are human too, and their body responds to sexual stimulus even if we try to hold it back, like I use to when I was in the clubs.

And I think that is what makes me a whore and a good whore more than anything else. I am no longer just riding my guys cowboy as fast and hard as I can while sticking my tits in their face avoiding making it personal-- getting them off and leaving. I actually now try my honest to goodness best to get myself off with each and every guy I do, each and every time, no matter how gross or fat or old he is or no matter how disrespectful he treats me or bizarre his request.

I now make it a personal challenge to get myself off each time. After all this is all the sex I will ever get, I can't make love to a man knowing I am doing this behind his back (I just can't do that anymore) and since I don't see myself stopping this for at least another 15-20 years until my baby is done school or even college, it is now finally personal for me.

I actually am writing this whole journal thing to help myself come to terms with the truth of the matter that I want to get off with the guys I do now as much or even more than them, after all they mostly have wives to go home to, lovers, and fuck pals but I only have them. Which I think in turns makes me push myself and not just lay there and take it, but fuck back and seek to get into to it now as much as I can, and much as they do...or more.

Oh forgive me, but I have been a whore one way or another all my adult life, but I honestly believe.... And I can't believe I am saying this...admitting this, or typing it but I think I am actually for the first time becoming more then a whore, I am... fuck it is hard to say..... I am more than a whore. I am a slut. I am a slut and a whore, and I like what they do to me, and the more dirty and guilty and worthless they make me feel the more it gets me off and makes me cum which in turn makes me push them so they will push me, so I will cum more often... which is tripling my business. I am now booked up solid 9-5 and have even found myself getting sitters a few times a month to pull some extra time, not because I want more money but because I want more dick—I want to feel dirty and worthless, I want to be degraded and called four letter words and humiliated. It is so fucked up but the more they treat me like an object the more it dose the opposite. The more bad I feel about what I am doing the more it makes me feel nasty and whorish and actually gets me off so fucking good! It is sick because it still degrades me, and I still felling like vomiting after every fuck, and I feel so dirty, but yet at the same time it is all those same feelings that make me quiver and shake and cum. There is something naughty and empowering to understand my role in all of this and become their impersonal fuck machine and spew receptor. I know they are just using me to get off and they could care less about me, but now I am doing the same thing back to them and taking their money for it! So who is fucking whom?

I can't tell you how good it feels to say these things, to admit these things, even if I am the only one who ever sees them. I Amaya Fernanda am both a whore and a slut! I whore because I sell my body for money and a slut because I actually like it!

I am staring at the blinking cursor my heart pounding, I feel so guilty for this whole thing so I need to make sure I delete it and no one sees it. But every word is true and my pussy is sopping wet as I admit it. And I am sure I can't be the only one like this. I wish I could tell every man out there next time you do a whore up the ass, or pop off in her face, take your time to rub her clit, suck her nipples, or go down on her, I hopefully might be that girl and be getting off with you. And trust me, you get me off and I will make every second of our time together worth it for you!

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