The Slut I am, A letter To My Therapist
               (Letter Three, Growing Up A Whore)
                 More from Goose's imagination
Dr. Watkins,
    In my last letter, I think I was describing what life with
Charlotte was like.  I hope I got the point across that in the
beginning I was not only scared.  I was angry and felt used. 
Charlotte took advantage of my youth and naiveté.  On the other
hand, I hope I conveyed that I got past that.  I came to love
Charlotte and the life she bestowed upon me.  I do not blame her.
   Nor, for that matter, do I regret what I have become.
I have learned a lot about men.  They are strange creatures in
many ways.  Most people think that men come to people like me for
sex.  That is not always exactly true.
    Sometimes they didn't fuck me at all.  A lot of them just wanted
me to play with their cock or jerk them off.  You would probably
be surprised at how many couldn't even get it up.  They would
just want me to fondle their limp cock or lay with them, a
request that they felt would be demeaning in the eyes of most
women.  With me, it didn't matter to them, especially when I was
playing the part of a child.  A little girl would not know it was
supposed to get hard.  A little girl would not be aware that
lying naked with a girl should make a man want to fuck her.
In addition, Charlotte explained to me, by pretending to be a
little girl, the clients didn't see me as judgmental.  Innocent
little girl's don't know the difference between a big dick and a
small one.
    As far as my client knew, his was the first and only cock I`d
ever seen.
    I was to exploit that, by acting innocent.  It was important that
I never take any initiative.  I was to never voluntarily take the
clients dick in my mouth or even touch him for that matter.  No
matter how many cocks I sucked, no matter how many filled my
pussy with cum, everything was to be a surprise.  Everything was
supposed to be new to me.
    It was the same way with fucking.  It did not matter if the
person wanted to fuck me in the ass or the pussy.  I was always
supposed to be scared.  It was important that I re-enforce the
idea that I had never done that before.
It was easy.  All I had to do was remember Uncle Jack.  Every
time a client took my cherry, I visualized Jack unmercifully
shoving his cock into my pussy.  The memory of Jack's dick
plunging into my ass was always fresh enough in my mind to remind
me how painful and degrading it could be.  Many times, I cried
while some asshole thought he was taking my virginity, forcing
his cock down my throat or cramming his dick into my ass.  	
    In the beginning, the tears were real.
    For almost two years, I was a virgin at least two nights a week.
    To make sure there were no mistakes, Charlotte kept meticulous
records to who she sold my cherry.  It would have been a little
embarrassing to try to sell my virginity to the same guy twice.
Eventually that ended.  Even though I was still small in stature,
I was growing up.  My breasts were growing, my hips were
spreading, and my pussy hair had become fuller, leaving coarse
stubble even when shaved clean.  And to be quite honest, my pussy
was becoming more difficult to pass off as unused.  Charlotte
taught me to squeeze my cunt closed to give the illusion of being
a virgin.  Through this and other exercises, my pussy remained
somewhat tight.  Still, once he made penetration and the man was
inside me, I am sure it did not feel very virginal to him.
That was when Charlotte graduated me to cheerleader and Catholic
School Girl outfits.
    Looking back, I was glad for the transformation.  I no longer had
to play the part of the virgin.  With my new roles, I could seek
out my own sexual feelings.
    I had come to appreciate the feel of a hard cock.
    I was, one might say, getting drunk with the power I held between
my legs.  True enough; the customer was always in charge.  On the
other hand, I had the power.  I owned the pussy.  A man may be in
charge of everything in his life, even the pussy.  However, if a
woman learns certain techniques, she can allow him to think he is
in charge, when truly she is calling the shots.
    I will give you and example.
    A client came to me.  First he wanted his dick sucked, they
almost always do, that`s expected.  When he was good and hard, he
decided he wanted to fuck me in the ass.  To be quite honest, I
was not in the mood for a dick up my ass that night, especially
his. The man had a cock like a racehorse.
   Knowing all of that, I smiled demurely at him and told him that
his dick in my ass sounded so hot.  "What I really need though,"
I explained, "was a really good fucking in my pussy."
To reiterate my claim, he was perfectly happy for me to mount him
like a cowgirl, allowing me to take only as much of his
horse-cock as I was comfortable with and ride his pony to the
end.   
     In fact, if I remember correctly, he left a huge tip.
    My point is; most men, not all but most, will give a woman
whatever she wants.  All she has to do is ask for it.  You see, I
have learned that the easiest way to please a man is to let him
think he is pleasing me.
    Charlotte taught me early on that what made us worth fifteen
hundred dollars an hour was not the way we fucked, any woman can
fuck a man.  Three things made us worth fifteen hundred dollars
an hour.  One of course was that we would do things their wives
and girlfriends would not think of doing.  Two was that our
clientele was very elite.  But maybe and most importantly, was
the way we made them feel.  Every man left feeling like a stud.

    Again, there are exceptions, like the occasional guy that feels
the need for a massive dildo up his ass.  Or the man with mother
issues that needs a spanking, dominated and punished.  Then there
are the ones that crave humiliation.  Maybe there are more
exceptions than I thought.  Still, for most, they just want to
leave thinking they just gave you the fucking of your life.
In many ways, I was like a porn star, always acting a part.  Of
course most of the time, my part was virgin, schoolgirl,
cheerleader or serious lover, all dictated by the client.  That's
right; some of my clients wanted me to be their lover.  For many,
I was the woman with whom they could lie in bed and tell all
their darkest secrets, share their insecurities.  
    I was to them what you are to me, except you and I haven't fucked, not yet anyway.
    I always wonder about that when we talk.  Do you have any
inclination to fuck me?  Does my talking about what I do make
your dick hard?  I would do you free.  You know that right?
    That is not what this letter is about though. Is it?
    Anyway, back to the acting.  You see, regardless of what the
client might want, it was up to me as the professional to use my
acting talents to make the fantasy feel real, my ultimate goal is
to satisfy the client.  There was no rule stating however, that I
couldn't have fun while doing it.
    I actually began to like my career.  Charlotte was no longer just
my pimp.  Charlotte was my mentor and business partner.  We had
many things in common.  One of which was... We both really liked
to fuck.  We actually liked what we did, most of the time anyway.

    You see, I had learned something else from Charlotte.  Because of
the way we did business, strictly in the safety of our home, with
elite clients,  we could actually have fun with what we did.
I'm not as polished as Charlotte or as classy looking.  But I
really believe that when I got a man in bed, I was every bit as
talented as she was in every department.  Many of our clients
would alternate between us, fucking Charlotte on one visit and me
on the next.  It gave the men physical variety, something every
man wants.  Charlotte was tall with long legs, huge round breasts
and full hips.  Me, on the other hand, I was small, still only
five-two and a hundred and five pounds, with small breasts and
narrow hips.
    Regardless of Charlotte`s skills, by the time I was seventeen I
could do a threesome with Charlotte and one of her clients,
satisfying them both,  all the while having a good time myself.
    Before I was even of legal age, I could swallow cum like it was
Kool-Aid, take an eight-inch dick in my mouth all the way to the
balls and spank a man's ass until he dropped his load.
    I'm sure it would have been different if we were walking the
streets, turning a dozen tricks a night at twenty bucks a pop. 
That however, was not the case.  
    There is no way I would compare my life of luxury and pampering to that of a street hooker.
    Looking back at my time with Charlotte, I lived and fucked there
for just over five years.  In some ways, that time seems like a
lifetime.  In others, it seems like the time flew by.
   Charlotte retired, marrying a client, just after her thirtieth
birthday.  Of course, we both received many marriage proposals. 
That's just part of being a man's perfect bed partner.  At thirty
however, Charlotte decided it was time to settle down.
    I guess she had been thinking about it for a while.  You know,
the house in the suburbs, ladies clubs and children.
    Charlotte had a client that flew into town about twice a month. 
He was an established actor in his mid-forties and ready to
settle down. So when he offered her the chance at a home in
Malibu, a Mercedes and all the shopping money she could spend,
she went for it.
   Charlotte and I still talk a couple of times a week on the phone.
   Actually, I think the marriage thing is working out quite well
for her.
   In truth, her marriage had nothing to do with settling down.  She
told me once in confidence.  Her retirement had more to do with
the fact that her body was beginning to age.  Her once full
breasts were beginning to drop.  Her gorgeous round ass was
starting to sag.  She was beginning to show some age around her
eyes.  The fact of the matter was, as hard as she tried, as much
as she exercised she was loosing her youthful looks.
She knew it wouldn't be long, no matter how many nips and tucks
she might have, until she became the client, paying some young
stud to fuck her.
    Add to that, she was tired.
    All of that is irrelevant; it has nothing to do with me.  The
only thing of importance is that when Charlotte went to Malibu,
she left me the penthouse.  It was mine free and clear.  She also
handed over to me my money, almost a half a million dollars.  I
did not know until then but Charlotte had never taken a dime from
me.  All the money I made, Charlotte saved and invested for me. 
Allowing me to keep my tips for spending money and furnishing
everything I needed out of her pocket.  She had made me very
wealthy at the age of twenty.
    If it were not for Charlotte, I couldn't afford you.
    I'm not sure what happened to me when Charlotte moved out.  You
see, even though we had become partners, she still maintained,
how should I put this, theatrical control.  In other words, there
were certain things we did not do.  For instance, we never went
out in public with a client.
    Although we would let them degrade us.  We allowed them to call
us whores, bitches or sluts, talking down to us while they fucked
us or had us suck their dicks.  We even allowed a little light
bondage, handcuffs and soft ropes, never tight enough to leave a
mark.  	
    As I mentioned we would do some dominatrix kind of stuff, but
that was light too.  Although I did have a couple of clients that
insisted, I fuck them in the ass with a dildo.  Still, overall it
was all pretty tame.
    Mostly, I think, our clients just wanted to do the things that
they had never been able to do with the average woman.  When they
became rich and famous however, they could afford to make their
fantasies reality by paying Charlotte or me to fulfill them.
I can only imagine being a teenage boy that wasn't cool.  The one
with acne or the non-athlete.  The kid that never fucked a
cheerleader in high school.  The nerd that remained a virgin
until earned enough buy a piece of ass.  All the pussy he ever
got was second hand or pussy that nobody else wanted.  This is
the same guy that never knew what it was like to fuck the pretty
or popular girl.  This would be the guy that knew more about
physics than he did pussy.  He was the one more interested in
getting into Harvard than getting into some teeny-boppers pants.
   Then, the next thing he knows he is grown-up, is an executive,
maybe even CEO of a major company.  He is married and has a
couple of kids.   Suddenly, he is successful.  He has money.  He
is no longer a nerd.  No one make fun of him anymore.  
   His wife is pretty, maybe even nice.  She may even truly love him.  But no
matter how much she would like to give him what he missed growing
up, she can't.  Mainly because she doesn't even know what it is.
    You see, she never knew him back then.  By the time she met him,
he was no longer the outcast.  And he can't tell her.  It would
demean him in her eyes to think of him like that.  At least
that's what he believes.
    They fuck but there is no way she will allow him to plow his dick
in her from behind while yelling; "Take that you fucking slut." 
She may suck his cock.  Again though, she is not going to let him
cum in her mouth or say things like; "Yeah that's it bitch suck
that fucking cock like the whore you are."  Even if she would
allow that, he could never talk to the mother of his children
that way.
    What does that leave for him?  He can try to hold those needs
inside, most do I think, he can rape some woman on the street or
he can come to me.
    With someone like me, he can do all of those things and more.  Is
what I do degrading to women?  Maybe, but to argue that what I do
causes men to rape, I would have to disagree.  What I do allows a
man to relieve the unspeakable sexual tension boiling inside him.
   By releasing the man inside him that is not so nice or tender in
a healthy manner, he is able to go home to his wife and make love
to her the way she expects.
    Maybe I know nothing.  After all, I am very careful about whom I
allow in my space.  Street hookers witness most of the anger and
brutality that can go with sex.  But, if one looks at it with an
open mind, one might say prostitution keeps violence and rape
down.  Let a man act out a rape scene with a hooker and it may
liberate him just enough to stop him from hurting an innocent
woman.
    I'm sorry if I got off track.  That is enough of my views.  I
should probably leave all that to the experts, people like you.

    The point I was starting to make before I began rambling was that
I changed after Charlotte left.  I became more adventurous.  I
did things Charlotte would never have done, things that could
have brought attention to the business from the wrong people, the
law.
   Charlotte and I were always under the radar with the law.  No one except our clients even knew what we did.  
    Charlotte always paid her taxes and maintained that her business was nothing more than that of a professional masseuse.  Choosing her clients with great care, undercover cops were never able to prove anything different.  
    She kept her license up to date.  If anyone called wanting a massage,
she did one of two things.  She either told them she was booked
up or she, on occasion, gave them a legitimate massage.
    When I arrived, I got my license and did the same thing.
    After Charlotte left, I wanted more.  I liked what I did.  Still,
I needed more than Charlotte did.  
   I know this sounds crazy, maybe that is why I'm seeing you.  I was kind of like the bored homemaker.  I may have fucked a thousand different men in a
thousand different ways, but there was something missing for me.
    Suddenly, I was the one having fantasies.
   So, with all that going on inside my head, I was quite vulnerable
when one night when a client asked me what it was I wanted.
   I must have given him a strange look.  I mean, there I was
dressed in a nurse's uniform with the top buttons open, the hem
of the dress just barely covering my ass and cunt, a stethoscope
around my neck, boobs pushed up until they were ready to pop out
and he was asking me what I wanted.
    He chuckled and said, "No really what would you like to do?"
   I smiled and did a pirouette.  "Are you serious?"
   "Yes.  I would like to give you something in return for all the
good times you've given me."  He had been a client for a long
time, starting when I was doing the cheerleader act.
   Still in disbelief, I asked. "Would you like to take me out to
dinner?  I have never been out to dinner with a man."
    "You mean like a date?"
   "Yeah, believe it or not, I`ve never been on a date."
    "Sure, go change and let's go.  I know a great restaurant.  The
dinning room overlooks Lake Michigan.  It is hard to get a table
there. Luckily, I know the owner."
    I didn't know it at the time but he was the owner.
    As I dressed and put on my makeup, I felt like a prom queen
getting ready for the dance.  Suddenly, I was getting back a
piece of the youth stolen from me by Uncle Jack.
    It was the most amazing night.  I had probably fucked a thousand
men in my short lifetime.  I had even, on rare occasions, had an
orgasm that wasn`t brought on by my own fingers.  What I had
never done however, was sit across the dinner table from a man
wanting him so badly that I could feel my crotch pulsing, soaking
my panties.
    We played footsy under the table.  I found it exhilarating to run
my stockinged foot up and down the inside of his leg, toying with
his crotch with my toes.  I could feel his hardness as my big toe
pressed against the head of his dick.  He slipped off his shoe
and ran his foot up the inside of my leg, not quite reaching my
cunt.
    He leaned across the table.  "You're quite the tease."
    "So are you.  Can I tell you something?"  I asked.
    "Of course."
    "I have never known what it feels like to actually want a man to
fuck me.  I paused, letting that thought sink in.  I know what it
feels like to be willing to fuck a man.  However, I have never
actually craved a man's cock inside me.  Does that sound crazy?"
    He raised his eyebrows.  Speaking very softly he asked, "Are you
saying that you honestly and truly want me to fuck you?"
    "More than you can imagine."  I whispered back.
    My cunt was dripping from the thought of his beautiful dick; I
knew what he looked like from experience, sliding in and out of
my scalding hot cunt.
    He touched my hand.  Still speaking softly he looked directly at
me. His eyes burned into mine, intensifying the heat between my
legs.  He was very good looking with deep blue eyes, a slender
face and soft blond hair that always looked slightly wind tossed.
    "Do you want me to take you home and make love to you like we are
lovers?  Or would you rather I fuck you like we are two animals
in heat?"
    I felt myself blushing.  "Both?"
   The next thing I knew, he had paid the check and was leading me
out of the restaurant.
    I was in a giddy daze, as his hired limo pulled to the curb.  He
gave the driver a hundred dollar bill with instructions to leave
the divider between us down, and drive along Lake Shore Drive
until he told him to stop.  
     As we climbed into the back seat, he looked at the driver again. "Anything you see or hear is to be ignored and forgotten."
    "Yes sir.  I understand."
   It was like watching a movie.  It was as if all of this was
happening to someone else.  I had been with men of power and
money since I was fifteen.  I had never though seen one in
action.
    My date wasted no time.  The car was barely away from the curb
when he reached under my dress and removed my thong.  Next, he
unzipped my dress, pulled the thin straps down over my shoulders
and past my hips until the material was lying in a heap on the
limo floor.
   Being as I never wore a bra; I was sitting naked except for my
stockings and garter belt.  I glanced up at the rearview mirror
and saw that the driver eyes were darting back and forth between
the road and us.
    "What about you?" I asked my date.
    I had to say no more.
   He started tearing at his clothes tossing them wildly around the
car.  Finally, he was naked, his hard dick jutting upward from
his flat stomach like a flagpole in the desert.  I could feel his
hardness as he pulled me to him, kissing me bruisingly on the
lips.
    My mouth responded with equal intensity.  My nipples hardened. 
My pussy gushed with a fresh flow of lubrication.  I was ready
for him in every way.
   He held the kiss for a long time, sucking, nibbling even biting
my lips. Next, he moved slowly down my neck and to my breasts. 
He cupped my breasts, one in each hand, kissing and chewing on
the nipples, first one then the other.
    I could hear myself gasping for breath as I thrust my chest at
him, force-feeding him my breasts.
    His mouth moved slowly downward stopping just above my pubic
hair.
    I raised my hips upward expecting, wanting him to continue
downward.  He stopped however, raising his head until he was once
more devouring my lips.  Between hungry kisses he whispered, "I'm
going to fuck you now."
I rolled my eyes upward, looking at him through misty tears.  "Do
it."
    Kneeling between my legs, he pulled my knees up and apart,
slamming his cock into me with one body shattering stroke.  His
hardness felt wonderful, somehow different from any I`d ever
felt.  
    For the first time in my life, a man was fucking me
because I actually wanted him to.  And God only knows how badly I
wanted him to.
    He pounded me hard, causing me to gasp, driving the breath out of
me with each powerful stroke.  My breasts bounced freely, my
nipples ached with pleasurable pain.  
    Then suddenly he stopped, pulling his cock from my slit as abruptly as he had entered.
    I felt empty, hollow.  The cool night air rushed between my legs.
It was as if he had taken away a part of me.
    He leaned back on the seat, pulling me on top of him.  Straddling
him, I could feel his shaft searching for my hole, teasing my
cunt with it`s velvety tip.
    With an expert hand, I grasped his cock, guiding the head into my
already open and well-lubricated pussy.  It would have been easy
to take him with one single stroke.  My pussy was wide open and
very slippery.  Instead, I took him slowly, closing my eyes
allowing myself to picture his cock as it disappeared inside me.

   My senses were at their peak.  I felt as though I could feel even
the slightest dimple of flesh as the soft silky head entered me.
I could feel the firm yet yielding head sliding past the blood
engorged lips of my pussy.  I felt the head of his dick re-opening my pussy, leading the way for the stiff shaft that was to follow.  It was as though I
could actually feel where the head of his dick ended and the
shaft began.  I was convinced that I could feel every swollen
vein every bump in his nearly flawless flesh, as I had to force
myself to take him slowly.
    It felt like minutes had passed by the time I felt my ass come to
rest against his thighs.  Rising up slightly, I shifted my cunt
backward, not wanting to give up even an inch of his hardness,
but needing to find just the right spot.  That spot where I could
massage my clit against his wonderful pole.
    I had forgotten all about the driver.  It never occurred to me,
nor would I have cared, that he could see my pussy spread wide
with my date's dick buried deep inside me.  None of that
mattered.  
    I was feeling something I had never felt...I was going
to cum in a way that, until now, I did not know was possible.
    It didn't take much.  All I had to do was to rock back and forth
a few times, the shaft of my date's cock rubbing my clit and the
head pushing against my G spot sent us both over the edge.  As my
entire body trembled, I drove my cunt hard against him, wanting
not only to get as much of his cock inside me as I could, but to
be as close to him as possible.  I pulled his upper body tight
against me, crushing my breasts against his chest.  I wanted to
feel every inch of his sweaty body against mine.
    For the first time in my life, I actually felt the heat of real
passion.  It was all coming together.  My nipples were so hard
they ached.  My face was flush. My cunt was pulsing with every
heartbeat.  And, best of all, I could feel his cock throbbing,
spilling his semen deep inside me.  
   A thousand men had cum inside me over the past few years.  Somehow, though, this was different.
   I longed to feel every pulse of his cock, to drain every drop of
semen from him.  Even when he was through, I squeezed my pussy in
an effort to wring one last drop from his shrinking meat.
   Finally, I dismounted.  As I did, I automatically became the pro again,
starting to dress.  I took some baby wipes from my purse to clean the residual cum from between my legs, both his and mine. 
    As I did, I looked up to see the driver smiling.  I didn't know
if I should be angry or not.  The man just watched me fuck. 
After all, even to a whore, fucking is a personal thing.  I
decided to believe he was smiling for me and not at me.  I took
it as a kind of 'congratulations girl you just found something
new.'
     I too chose to smile, again becoming a woman instead of a whore.
It occurred to me that I had just lost my virginity.  I know it
sounds crazy but think about it.  For the first time in my life,
I had fucked this man because it was something I really wanted to
do.  It was something about which I felt good.  It definitely was
not like it had been with Uncle Jack or anyone else I for that
matter.  
     I had, in a sense broken the curse.  I had learned that
I could fuck because it was something I wanted to do.
     Aunt Charlotte never told me about that part of sex.