My Milf Of A Mother Is A Whore

My MILF of a Mother is a Whore

My name is Flanna Fiona Flaherty and my mother, Deirdre Aine Flaherty, is a whore.

No ands, buts, maybes, and apologies, my MILF of a mother is a whore. She not only freely admits that she's a whore but also, she enjoyed being a whore. She's proud of being a whore.

She's a woman who knows what she wanted and she wanted cock. She loved stroking cock as much as she loved sucking cock, and fucking cock. No matter their age, as long as they were over 18-years-old, and no matter what they looked like, she'd have sex with anyone for money, a lot of money.

At first glance, able to hide it as if wearing a mask, my mother doesn't look like a whore. One would never know that she was a whore by passing her by on the street or in the mall. With her wearing business suits and high heels with her hair pinned up, she more looked like a refined, beautiful, professional woman. She looked more like a woman who a wealthy businessman would take to dinner, to a play, to the opera, or to a ballet. She looked like a respectable, matronly, married woman.

In the way that Julia Roberts, as Vivian Ward, looked in Pretty woman when Richard Gere, as Edward Lewis, took her to a Polo match, she more looked like a woman who a wealthy man would date and marry. She looked more like a woman that wealthy men would want to dine with her at their country club and romance. She looked more like a woman that a rich man would want to surprise her with a big, diamond ring, fall to his knee, and ask her to marry him.

Able to articulate herself intelligently on a broad spectrum of subjects, on the surface, she appeared more educated than she was. Only, my mother didn't possess any degrees, not even a high school diploma. If judging her by only her good looks, and her tall, shapely, and sexy stature, whenever she walked in a room, even though she's a decade past her prime, she still commanded the room.

She still continued to turn heads. Every man who saw her wanted her. Every man who wanted her needed to talk to her. She ruled the room as if she was the only woman there.

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Even though I know her age, my mother doesn't look her age. She looked more like my older sister. Fooling the best of them, she looked younger instead of older.

Growing older gracefully, she looked ten-years younger than her chronological age. In the way that Heidi Klum changed her facial appearance with plastic surgery, my mother was more naturally beautiful in the way of Christie Brinkley. She didn't need to have plastic surgery to look younger and more beautiful, she already looked young without any of that cosmetic surgery.

When she was younger, because she was tall, 5' 10" tall in her stocking feet, and taller when in heels, she was always asked if she was a model. Feeling as if they had seen her somewhere before, perhaps, just their pick up line, complimenting her, some men asked her if she was a celebrity. No doubt, because of her huge breasts and her beautiful, long, lush red hair, some men said that she looked like Christina Hendricks from Mad Men. With Christina Hendricks a well-built, beautiful woman, my mother accepted the compliment with a smile.

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As I've already written before and am proud to write again, without doubt and not a stretch of anyone's imagination, my mother is beautiful. She's sexy. She's shapely. She'd make any man with money not only a great bedmate but also a wonderful wife. The fact that she was available for money had many wealthy men wanting to date her, and even marry her, no matter the cost.

With her always looking much younger than her mature age, because she doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, exercises faithfully, and stays out of the sun, she looked amazing in her tight, designer clothes. With too many women, short, fat, ugly, and out of shape, every woman she passed looked at her with jealousy. Every man she passed looked at her with sexual lust and romantic interest. She can't go anywhere without drawing the attention of women wishing that she looked like her and men who wished they could bed her.

My mother, Deirdre, has long, red hair and big, green eyes, like me. She has double D cup breasts, a toned, and slender waistline, and an ass that would make a grown man cry. With me the same 5' 10" height, I look quite a lot like my mother, only and unbelievably, I have bigger breasts. Blessed with enormous tits, I have F cup breasts that are equal to triple D cup breasts instead of her double D cup breasts. Proud of my enormous breasts, I have the same size breasts as Christina Hendricks and Sofia Vergara.

Truthfully and honestly, as I've written before, my MILF of a Mother is a whore. Unable to help herself and unable to change, she's always been a whore and will always be a whore. She'd stroke, suck, and fuck any man for money. With her looking so sexy and so shapely, not a cheap corner hooker but a high-priced, call girl, she charged a premium price for every sex act that she did. Anyone who wanted to have sex with her had to pay her a lot.

Learning how to sexually pleasure men early, not only is she a whore but also, she's earned money as a stripper, and as a prostitute, too. Starting out early at 18-years-old, when most young women started college after high school or got a job, she graduated from an on the corner hooker to a prostitute. On the street corner, whore scale, a prostitute earned more than a hooker. From there, with her pimp taking a liking to her, refining her and, with her not even finishing high school, educating her, with his help, not an easy transition to make, she became a high-priced, call girl.

Now, at only 45-years-old, nearing the end of her sexual career, with few men wanting to have sex with an old whore, before she grows too old and wrinkled, she's at the top of her game. She only has a few more years of working before she's kicked to the curb for someone younger and prettier whore with a better body. Unless she latched onto a millionaire who wanted to marry her, she is fully aware that her career is short-term. Best she earned and saved as much money as she can now to continue her luxurious lifestyle later.

Actually, earning more money spreading her legs and opening her mouth, she quit her job as a stripper. Tired of splitting her take with the bouncer, the barman, and the owner of the strip club, she tired of giving them blowjobs whenever they wanted her to suck their cocks. With her now having a steady stream of rich, and faithful customers, she no longer needed a pimp. She no longer required a third party to book her dates. She booked her own dates.

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Sometimes, but not usually, not wanting anyone to know where she lived, she brought home men early in the morning or late at night. She had sex with them in her huge, ensuite master bedroom. Whenever I heard her entertaining a man, I waited until she moved her party from the living room and disappeared in her bedroom.

Then, not taking any chances, I silently climbed out of bed, closed, and locked my bedroom door. Fortunately, I had an ensuite bathroom attached to my bedroom, too. Not wanting whoever was here to know that I was there, I didn't flush the toilet.

I barricade my bedroom door by silently pushing my bureau across the door. Just in case her John had ideas of having sex with me, too, I didn't want to be a victim. Hoping he didn't know that I was there asleep in my bedroom on the other side of the condo, I hoped to remain invisible. I hoped he left before seeing me, hearing me, and/or meeting me. With him, no doubt, thinking that he could have sex with me, too, the last thing that I wanted was one of my mother's perverted John's as a stalker.

'And this is my 21-year-old, daughter, Flanna, I imagined my mother saying. The spitting image of me only, she has much bigger breasts,' I imagined my mother saying to her John. 'Isn't she beautiful? Isn't she sexy?'

Then, I imagined my mother enlisting me as a call girl in her dirty, sexual business.

'How much would you pay to have mother and daughter sex? Wouldn't you love to have a threesome with my daughter and I,' I imagined my mother asking one of her clients?

I imagined her John wanting to have sex with me, too. I imagined him wanting to have sex with the both of us. I imagined him willing to pay to have a mother and daughter threesome. Only, I wasn't the whore that my mother was. I'd never have sex with a dirty, old man who was more than twice my age.

'Gross,' I thought.

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Usually, her dates arranged for a limousine to pick her up. They booked her in an expensive hotel suite somewhere, and had sex with her there. Sometimes, those men who loved to drive and enjoyed flashing their wealth, arrived to pick her up in one of their expensive automobiles. It wasn't uncommon to see my mother riding around in the backseat of a Rolls Royce, a Bentley, or a Maybach. It wasn't uncommon to see my mother sitting in the passenger seat of a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, or some other expensive automobile.

Sometimes, she had sex with them at one of their homes, whichever house that their wives weren't in residence. Sometimes she had sex with them aboard their yachts anchored out beyond the harbor, or on their way to some Mediterranean vacation. Sometimes she had sex with them on their private planes during one of their business trips. Sometimes, as if she was still a teenager, she had sex with them in the backseat of their car.

Suffice to write, no matter where she is or who she's with, my mother is always working. With her time, her most valuable asset, she's always earning money. Whether she's stroking, sucking, or fucking, she's always having sex for money. Not a day goes by that she's not having sex for money, a lot of money.

Whether with a man, a woman, or both at the same time, while he watched and masturbated himself or joined in on the action, it didn't matter to her who she had sex with as long as they paid her for her time. With my mother a licker as much as she's a sucker, sex is sex and money is money. Never agreeing to a circle jerk or a gangbang, however, no matter how much money they offered her, she always wanted to be made to feel special.

With her coming a long way from a street corner whore to a high priced, call woman, she didn't like men who made her feel like a whore. Wanting to be treated like a lady, she expected to be treated with respect. She wanted to be treated with kindness instead of with violence. With her willing to make them feel as if they were her special man, she preferred men who made her feel like she was their special woman.

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Unembarrassed and unashamed, as long as they were older than 18-years-old, she's even had sex with the sons' of her customers who wanted to help them lose their virginity. Who better to hire than the whore that Daddy already fucked? With her as gentle with them as she was kind, she gave them the sexual experience that any virginal, young men would remember for the rest of their lives. There's no better sexual gift than to have first-time sex with Deirdre, a real professional.

Interestingly and convolutedly enough, she's even been hired to have sex with men on their way to prison. They paid her handsomely to have one last, around the world, sexual romp. She willingly surrendered them her ass, as well as her hand, her mouth, and her pussy. All part of the paid in advance agreement, the sex included anal, as well as oral and vaginal before her client was incarcerated in the big house for years. With her charging a premium price, she gave them plenty to masturbate over while in prison.

With her that good, men paid her however much she wanted for her to have sex with them. However, only the rich could afford what she charged. With her a high priced whore, only, the rich could enjoy the sexual pleasures of her hand, her mouth, her pussy, and her ass.

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Ready at a moment's notice, already packed, she kept a go bag filled with everything that she needed for a long weekend. She could put on her makeup, fix her hair, and squeeze her shapely figure in a tight, designer's dress within fifteen minutes. Ready to meet the limo to take her to their yacht or to their private plane, she willingly went wherever and whenever they wanted her to go.

Of course, her busiest time of the year is during the holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. One would think that these men would want to be with their families instead of with their whore. Yet, with their wives and children busy with their family and friends, that was their excuse to travel to secret destinations with Deirdre.

Those three holidays were where she earned more than half of her yearly income. Suffice to write, with my mother not home for the holidays, and God only knows where she was, there's no Thanksgiving, Christmas dinners, and no holiday celebration for me. Unless I put them up myself, and bought them to give to myself, there's no Christmas tree, no Christmas decorations, and no presents under the tree.

Not having much of a family, other than my mother, I never had a family gathering. There's never been a holiday celebration for me with me as the main focus instead of one of her John's taking all of her time. There's just emptiness, loneliness, and anger that she's there for everyone except for me.

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I stay at home alone while she's out having fun. Yet, her kind of fun wouldn't be my kind of fun. Her fun is having sex with strangers for money. Her fun is allowing old, horny, rich men to have their wicked, sexual way with her beautiful, naked body. She made them feel young and virile again. Something that she confessed to me but something that she'd never admit to them, they made her feel dirty, used, abused, and nasty.

Yet, she felt blessed that wealthy men were still willing to pay her to kneel in front of them with her mouth open or lying on her back with their legs spread wide. She charged a premium price to be on her hands and knees while men fuck her in her ass. Believe it or not, something that I didn't understand until I was older, she'd rather suck their cocks than to French kiss them. In her way of thinking, with blowjobs less intimate than kissing, she only kissed her special clients who paid her a premium price to kiss her and make out with her while having sex.

Something that I couldn't do, was something that I may feel differently about when I'm older. I can't imagine a much older man kissing me, French kissing me. I can't imagine him feeling me through my clothes, undressing me, and stripping me naked while making out with me. I can't imagine someone I just met, didn't know, and didn't like, climbing on top of me, sticking his fingers, his tongue, and his cock inside of me, and fucking me.

'Gross!'

I can't imagine a man more than twice my age sticking his cock in my mouth, in my pussy and/or in my ass. I can't imagine blowing a man old enough to be my father. I can't imagine fucking a man old enough to be my grandfather. I can't imagine some old man cumming inside of me. God forbid, he made me pregnant.

'Yuck.'

With my mother telling me things that I could never learn in school, in that regard, my whore of a mother was the only teacher that I ever had. Yet, if I was to follow in my mother's footsteps and decided to be a call girl, she'd tell me that it was a good thing for a rich man to impregnate me with his baby. She'd tell me that, as long as I played my cards right and didn't ask for more than he could afford, he'd take care of me and my baby for the rest of our lives.

No doubt, not having to guess, my father, who I've never met, was one of my mother's wealthy clients. Paying her to keep quiet, she never told me who he was. Nonetheless, with my mother being his baby's momma, whoever he was, he financially took care of us and, no doubt, will continue to provide for us for the rest of our lives.

Yet, unlike my mother, I can't imagine a man paying me to stroke him while sucking him. I can't imagine a man paying me to fuck him. I can't imagine him sticking his prick in my mouth, cumming in my mouth, and expecting me to swallow his cum. I can't imagine him cumming all over my face, in my beautiful, red hair, and across my naked breasts. I can't imagine him giving me a cum bath for a bonus price that was high enough to pay for a new car cash.

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Instead of being there for me during the holidays, whenever she finally arrived home days or weeks later from wherever the Hell she's been, she handed me five, new, one-hundred-dollar bills worth more than a thousand-dollars in today's inflated market. She told me to buy something nice for myself for Christmas. She did the same thing again when it's my birthday. She gave me five, new, one-hundred-dollar bills and told me to buy myself something nice.

To show her that I spent it instead of saved it, I'd buy clothes with some of the money. I'd a new coat, a sweater, jeans, and a pair of new shoes. I'd save whatever money that I have left. Not wanting to be unprepared should something happen to her or when she grows tired of housing and supporting me, I know that eventually, I'll need to move into my own place and leave my mother behind. With rents so expensive, as long as I get a job to support myself, and have some savings for emergencies, I'll be okay.

From what I see around me, judging her by what we have and all that she's accumulated, my mother is a good whore. Clearly, she's not only a talented cocksucker, and a good motherfucker but also, she's good with money. We live in a luxurious, high rise condo with security, and valet parking. She has a brand new car, and bought me a new car, too.

We have all of the amenities. There's a huge pool, a hot tub, and barbeque grilles on the rooftop. There's a gym on the sixth floor with a walking and running track. There are big screen TVs, a bowling alley, and a pool table on the second floor. There's a tennis court, a badminton court, a shuffleboard court, a large putting green, a bocci court, and horseshoe area out back. There's even a convenience store on the first floor. With everything we need in one place, we never have to leave the building.

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Even when she dresses down, and wears jeans and a top, she wears expensive, designer clothes, costly jewelry, usually given to her as gifts from clients, and drives a new Mercedes. She has a regular clientele who take her in their limousines, aboard their private yachts, and/or on her on their custom planes. She never had to stand in line for airport security. Never having to waste her time booking a flight or reserving hotel accommodations, all of that is taken care of by her Johns' private secretaries.

When she finally returned home, her oversized handbag, that has secret pockets in the lining, is stuffed full of money. In that regard, she's like a drug dealer when hiding her money from the IRS. Only, their product is drugs and her product is sex. Nonetheless, with the both of them having the same motivation, amassing huge amounts of money is the big prize.

Yet, as if I lived alone, I spend most of my day watching television and reading. Not knowing my way around the city, not wanting to get in trouble, and with her not home to help me out of a jam, I'm safer staying home. No need to go out and about, with room service delivering whatever I wanted to eat and/or drink, I have everything I need at my condo. With me not knowing my way around the city, and having never been on a bus or a subway, there's really no need for me to go outside.

I don't have any friends. I've never had a friend. I don't have a pet. I've never had a pet. I have no one to call on my cell phone or email on my computer. As if I don't exist, I don't attend school. I've never attended school. Totally living alone when my mother isn't here, I'm totally self-sufficient.

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