This Is No Fairy Tale, This Is A Prostitute’s Story - Sex Stories

This Is No Fairy Tale, This Is A Prostitute’s Story

If you've come here searching for a story that starts out with 'Once upon a time,' than you're looking in the wrong place. This is no fairy tale, I can promise you that. There will be no prince charming to kiss his princess awake. There will be no prince to climb up the tower to rescue his girl from the evil witch. There will be no handsome stud who will fight the mad sea queen for his one true love. No, none of that. This is definitely not that kind of story. You're not going to find flowers, or sweet gestures and playful innuendos here. No love will be had here, no sweeping her off her feet, making her feel like she's the only girl in the world. Those stories are for the make believe, ones we run to when we want to escape the real world for a little while. When life is too tough for us to handle and we need to hide in the pages of comfort. This story, this story is real and so very true. This is the nitty gritty life of a prostitute. Of a girl who walks the streets night after night, no matter the situation, hoping to make her next dollar. To survive another day in the real world. One where she doesn't need to depend on anyone, man or woman. She's just looking to polish her little black book of John's, making a name for herself. *** The clicking of my heels hit the pavement, as I walk down the street. The night is early, though I've had two John's come seeking me out. One I've known for a while, who stops by a few times a week and a new one. He had no interest in anything ...

... fancy, just needed a place to nut. Now it's quiet, except for the sound of a dog barking near by, which is accompanied by a few sirens off in the far distances. Occasionally a car will pass by, heading home for the night; or so I assume. Sometimes I make up lives for those I see driving by to keep my mind busy, waiting for my next trick. It's not like I have a whole lot else to do. There are other cars that will creep by. I figure they're either ones who haven't been with a girl of the streets and too afraid to stop for many reasons. Unsure how to approach us, being married, not wanting to cheat, well known locally. Some even finding it too taboo to be with a prostitute. There is a lot of reasons why they don't stop. Then there are always the ones who want a cheap thrill. They'll creep down the streets, staring at us, drooling like idiots. All to have a little thrill with fire, so to speak. Anything to get their rocks off. Cheap bastards! The roar of a car turns onto the street, slowly he comes to a stop by the curb I'm on. “How much for you, honey?” He asks in a posh accent that I can't place, while leaning over the passenger side to get a good look at me. I strut around the front of his car, allowing his beams to shine on me, as I make my way to his side of the car. He's driving a black Bugatti, that purrs beautifully. When I get to the driver side of the car, the glow of his dash is bright enough to give me a good look at him. He's good looking, if you like the pretty boy ...