My Daughter, Brianna, is a Whore - Sex Stories

My Daughter, Brianna, is a Whore

... and that now costs seven hundred dollars. I've had that phone for thirty years.

I don't remember the last time that I used the phone to make a call. I don't have anyone to call. Yet, my daughter insists that I should always have it with me in case of an emergency.

With my basic flip phone, I can make calls out and I can receive calls in. What more do I need? I've never texted anyone. I don't know how to text. I've never been on the Internet. I wouldn't know what to do nor where to go on the Internet. The only log-in name that I ever used is the one that I use for everything, my first name and birthdate.

Then, my daughter surprised me with a Smartphone for my birthday. I stared at the box as if I was a caveman the first time that I saw fire. I've never taken it out of the box. It's still in the box.

I never even turned it on to see what a Smartphone does. She said that I had to charge it first before using it. I can't imagine running jumper cables from my car to charge my phone. That's a bit ridiculous.

I don't care what it does. I'm not interested in what a Smartphone does. Maybe, I'm not as dumb as I think I am not to get hooked and waste my time and money on a Smartphone and other computerized devices.

"Now you can call me or email me from wherever I am, daddy," she said when she gave me the phone.

I looked at her as if she was speaking in tongues again.

"Email? What's that," I asked?

She laughed.

"I'll have one of my IT guys visit you at ...

... the condo. He'll set you up with your own personal computer. He'll explain everything to you," said Brianna with a wave of her hand before taking another phone call. I wanted to ask her what an 'it guy' was but I didn't.

Even though the front desk called me on three, separate occasions that her IT man was downstairs in the lobby, I didn't answer. I pretended that I wasn't home. It's enough that she was tied to a computer. I didn't want to be dependent on a computer, too. I didn't need a computer. I didn't want a computer. If I needed to mail her, I'd just give my letter to the front desk, and they'd mail it for me.

I don't do social media. I don't have a Facebook, Instagram, or a Twitter account. When my daughter mentioned the dozen other social media accounts that she's on daily, she may as well have spoken to me in a foreign language. I don't know what any of those sights are and what they do. Yet, with the Internet her way of connecting to and managing her worldwide businesses, seemingly, the bulk of her income comes from social media.

F F F

She lived in an exclusive and expensive high rise, multi-million-dollar condo with a doorman and security that overlooked central park. Her condo has a gym, a pool, and a rooftop barbeque with dozens of lounging chairs. Housed within a mini-mall, there's a grocery store, a pharmacy, and clothing stores on the first floor. She had a place to socialize with chairs, couches, television sets, pool tables, and even a bar on the ...