My Daughter Brianna Is a Whore

My Daughter, Brianna, is a Whore

My thirty-five-year-old daughter, Brianna, who goes by the name of Lexi, short for Alexandra, is a whore.

Thinking of her as a successful and driven businesswoman, I never suspected that Brianna was a whore. No doubt, because I'm her father, thinking of her as a whore never crossed my mind. I can't think of my daughter as a whore. Unable to go there, with her reminding me so much of her mother, my deceased wife, I'd never think bad about my baby girl.

Yet, after discovering what she does for a living and how she earned her vast fortune and worldwide fame, and with the reality hitting me hard, I now think of her as a whore. She's a whore. My daughter is a whore. Yet, when she's been so kind and generous to me, how dare I think of Brianna as a whore? As her father, she's good to me. She treats me with respect. I need to give her the benefit of my doubt.

The love of my life is my daughter. Even if what I heard is true, I'd never think less of her. Yet, with her always traveling, even with me living in her condo, unbelievably, it took me years to sit down and talk with her. Not wanting to bother her or interrupt her when she's working, from the time that she opens her eyes and closes them, she's always working.

With a phone in her ear, another phone in her hand, with her wearing a headset, and her hand on a computer keyboard, she was always too busy to talk. Her phone never stops ringing. She's always on the phone and/or on her computer. She's always talking, directing, discussing, and ordering her staff on what to do.

It took me years more to discover what she did for a living and that she was, indeed, a whore. Like mother, like daughter, her mother, Mary, God rest her soul, was a whore, too. A tall, blonde with blue eyes and big tits, my wife was a good-looking woman. With me being ignorant about women, I never thought of my wife as a whore either. I never knew that Mary was a cocksucking, cheating whore but, indeed, she was.

To be honest, way out of my class, I don't know how I got such a beautiful woman, but I did. We dated from the time that we attended the senior prom together when we were both 18 years old. Yet, with us plain and simple people who never expected much out of life, neither of us possessed the business drive of Brianna. Yet, my daughter's business energy paled in comparison to her mother's sexual drive. Clearly, my daughter got her dedication to business in the way that my wife had devoted her life to having extramarital sex.

F F F

Surprised that I never caught her in the act, with me working long hours, six days a week to pay the bills, my wife lived a secret, sexual life. With me oblivious to the sexual wants and needs of women, innocent in that way, my wife whored herself right under my nose. Never suspecting my beloved wife to be a whore, it took me years to discover my wife's whoredom. Unbeknownst to me, Mary had sex with all of my friends. Hard for me to believe that my friends would sacrifice our friendship for the sake of having sex with my wife, Mary sucked and fucked them all, not once, but many times.

A church going woman, she had me deceived. With her always on her knees praying, I used to call her Mother Mary because I thought she was so religious. If only I knew, I had no idea that she was always on her knees sucking more than she was praying. In the way that I was sexually innocent to the way of the world in regards to women, I thought she was sexually innocent, too. With me a virgin when I married my wife, little did I know that my wife was an experienced, cocksucking whore.

She had sex with all of the husbands and boyfriends of her friends. Surprised that she didn't give me a sexually transmitted disease, she had sex with strangers that she met at the mall and at the supermarket. When she wasn't stroking and sucking cock in their trucks, she fucked them in the backseats of their cars. In the way that Brianna is always working, my wife was always working, too. Only, instead of making piles of money like her daughter, Mary had lots of sex.

Only, unlike our daughter, with her not having any business sense, my wife gave it away for free. Not a prostitute but a whore, she didn't charge anything or anyone for sex. In the way that she looked and knew her way around a cock, she could have earned a lot of money selling herself for sex.

Never needing much sex in my life, not having much of a sex drive, blaming myself as much as I blamed my wife, I guess I'm naïve. I understand now that my wife needed to have more sex than me, ergo her need to have sex with other men, a lot of other men. Something that we never discussed, if only I knew then what I know now, I either would have divorced her, or given her more sex.

If only I knew that she was a whore, something that I never thought of doing but maybe I should have done, I should have been her pimp. I could have pimped her out to men with money. We could have made a lot of money with the talent that she possessed with her hands, her mouth, her pussy, and her ass. Yet, a different time then, Mary was no corner whore. She had more class than that.

She wasn't a hooker. Plain and simple, she was a good person, albeit she was a whore. With her ability to pull it off, she enjoyed playing the part of her two favorite whores, Marilyn Monroe, and Jayne Mansfield. Whenever she went to the supermarket, she played the part of Marilyn Monroe pushing a shopping cart. When she went to the mall, she played the part of Jayne Mansfield shopping for shoes and trying on clothes without closing the dressing room curtains all the way.

Imagine horny men seeing a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe at the supermarket? Imagine seeing a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like wearing a low-cut blouse and flashing her long line of sexy cleavage while leaning over the vegetable counter and squeezing cucumbers. Imagine lonely men seeing a Jayne Mansfield look-a-like trying on shoes at a shoe store. The time of the miniskirt in the 70's, giving them a show, she enjoyed flashing shoe salesmen her panties. Imagined husbands and boyfriends waiting outside of a dressing room for their wives and girlfriends while watching my wife trying on clothes without closing the curtain all the way.

F F F

Brianna never elaborated on what she did for a living because my eyes glazed over. As soon as she mentioned computers, with me not having any interest in computers, I stopped listening. Her business had something to do with computers. Her personal wealth was all about and dependent on computers, a vast number of computers nationwide and worldwide.

She told me that she earned her money with an Internet startup, whatever that is, called Lexi's Place. Only, as I discovered later, Lexi's Place is some sort of a pay for view site where she earned her vast fortune by employing thousands of webcam whores all over the country and all over the world. As if her business was the modern day, computerized peepshow, men paid these women to talk to them, sexually tease them, undress for them, and masturbate themselves in front of them for tokens that they purchased with cash.

With them all literally naïve and deceived, the customers believed that these websites belonged to the women on the site, but they didn't. Little did they know that their websites were part of the vast empire of Lexi's Place. Basically, a new age of the oldest profession in the world, virtual, video prostitution, my daughter is an Internet madam. My daughter Brianna is the whore in charge of the whole operation, she's Madam Lexi.

Shocking to me, unbelievably, my daughter is the head whore in charge of all of her other whores. No doubt, understanding her daughter's business model, her mother would have been proud that her daughter was a modern-day whore, too. Like mother, like daughter, a whore like her mother, with me not understanding so many men's need for sex, I'm as shocked as I'm confused.

Hidden beneath layers of shell companies, offshore companies, along with other, legal subsidiary businesses, nationwide associations, and international organizations, looking at her businesses without the trained eyes of a certified public accountant, everything appeared satisfactory. Yet, in the way that Jeffrey Epstein's real business was a consulting firm that managed the money of billionaires, he sexually abused young, innocent women in his private life while inviting all of his business associates to the party. In that regard, different from Jeffrey Epstein, Lexi's Place was Brianna's only businesses and her only focus.

Even though my daughter wasn't a child molester and/or an abuser of women, neck deep in sexual debauchery, and prostitution, her businesses raised more than a few eyebrows. Her businesses set off red flags and alarms all over the country and all over the world. Yet, her businesses employed thousands of women, women who would never ordinarily earn the income that they earned as webcam models. When working full time, especially if she was as sexy as she was pretty, it wasn't unusual for webcam models to earn a six-figure income.

Imagine women earning more than their husbands and/or boyfriends for just posing in sexy clothes, nightgowns, bras, and panties, and/or topless on camera. Imagined men taking them private and paying women to watch them undress. Imagine thousands of websites with thousands of webcam models, and with men masturbating themselves while watching women masturbate themselves on their computer screens.

With me not computer literate, quite the modern-day enigma, I don't own a laptop, a desktop, or a tablet. I've never owned a computer. I've never even used a computer. I can't even type. I have no interest in computers. Ergo, I've never been on one of my daughter's websites.

Something shocking but true, paying cash for everything that I buy, I don't own a credit card. I don't own a debit card. All I own is a Social Security card and driver's license. Brianna forced me to get a passport in case she wanted me to travel with her somewhere, sometime, but not wanting to go to a foreign country, I've never been on a plane.

From automobiles, to supermarkets, to gas stations, to cash registers, and cameras at the mall, and even my television set at home, everything is computerized today. Now, with everyone saving everything to the Cloud, whatever that is, we never get away from it. George Orwell's 1984 is already here.

Big Brother is watching. Big brother, our own NSA, National Security Agency, in charge of signal intelligence and the protection of U. S communications networks and information systems, is always watching. Now with Alexa, Big Brother is listening, too.

I hate computers. They scare me. One day, with computers taking over the world and deciding that they don't need humans anymore, artificial intelligence is already here. With all of us deemed unnecessary, we're all doomed to be eliminated sooner than later.

F F F

While everyone stared at their Smartphones all day and played computer games, old fashioned, I still played checkers, gin rummy, whist, and poker. I've never played a video game, nor do I want to play a computerized video game. I'd rather watch a movie or have conversations with strangers while sitting on a bench in the sunshine at a park and feeding squirrels and pigeons.

I don't own a Smartphone, nor have I ever used a Smartphone. I suspect Smartphones are smarter than me which is why they're called Smartphones. I barely finished high school. Never going to college or wanting to go to college, a glorified handyman, I worked in a factory sweeping, tidying up things, and fixing whatever was broken.

Yet even though I'm now rich because of all of the money that my daughter has given me over the years, I'd never pay Apple nearly a thousand dollars for a phone. The only phone that I have is a Motorola flip phone that cost me fifty dollars, 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 second floor.

Shocking me and unable to wrap my head around anyone spending that amount of money for a condo, she confessed that she paid ninety-million-dollars for her full floor condo and that it is now worth one-hundred-twenty-million-dollars. Her monthly condo fees are multiple times more than my yearly mortgage. She doesn't even have any land.

A list of famous names of very wealthy movie and recording stars, live in her building but on lower floors. She has a five-bedroom, six-bathroom, two kitchen, penthouse suite. Her views overlooking Central Park are amazing. Never having to leave the building for anything, I'm able to have whatever I need delivered. I could sit there for hours and people watch with my binoculars or telescope while sipping my coffee or having a drink. Her condo is so big that I could ride my bike around it for exercise.

Only, she's seldom home to enjoy the view. When she's not on someone's private plane, aboard someone's yacht, or traveling to London, Rome, Paris, Monaco, or Dubai, she's in meetings. Hard to track her down, as if she's a supermodel living a luxurious lifestyle or, as if she's Taylor Swift traveling the world, I'm told that she's world famous. Only, because I'm not on social media, thinking of her as my daughter, Brianna, I don't know her as Lexi.

Yet, people have told me, much like Cher, Madonna, Adelle, Iman, Sting, Elvis, Prince, Bono, Pink, or Charo, I only have to mention that I'm Lexi's dad for doors that otherwise remained closed to me to now open wide. I can get a table at any restaurant and/or tickets to any Broadway show at a moment's notice by having her personal butler call the front desk. Last minute tickets to the Super Bowl on the fifty-yard line, and flying there and back on her private plane, while being transported to and from the airport by limousine each way is no problem.

"Yes, that's right. Lexi is my daughter. A picture? Sure, you can take a photo of me," I said suddenly feeling as if I was a celebrity when my daughter was the one who had all of the fame and fortune.

Feeling as if I had to explain who I am so as not to take on airs, I told them who and what I was.

"I was just a handyman, a janitor, and retired from working at a factory. I'm her dad," I said with a modest smile.

F F F

Wealthier than Madonna, Donald Trump, Taylor Swift, Rihanna, and Oprah combined, Forbes billionaire list rated her as having 12 billion dollars last year but she's worth much more than that this year. With her having more than 2,000, female employees in the United States alone, she has several overseas operations, too. Expanding into new markets, she started new websites in Japan and China with Japanese and Chinese webcam models.

She employed an entire accounting firm to do her taxes. Her yearly tax filings are the size of the biggest dictionary or the height of the United States budget binder. Yet, taking advantage of every tax loophole, especially with her doing much of her business overseas, people would be surprised how little she pays in taxes compared to how much she earns in income.

Obeying all of the tax laws for her not to be audited, all of her employees are listed as independent contractors. They all receive 1099's at year end. Despite how little in taxes she paid compared to how much money she made, she still paid more in taxes than most corporations earn in a year. She paid more in taxes than some countries have incomes.

Almost not recognizing her, looking even more beautiful, Brianna had breast implants. Like her mother, with her born with C cup breasts, she now had surgically enhanced, and perfectly shaped, D, cup breasts. She's had a facelift, a nose job, and has dyed her beautiful, brown hair blonde. She's had tummy tuck surgery, and more plastic surgery that shaped her ass in the way of Coco Austin's round backside. Her mother was stunning, and Brianna is even more beautiful than Mary.

Yet, unbeknownst to me, in the way that I was sexually clueless about my wife, my daughter started her business on her back. Skilled with her hands, her pussy, her mouth, and her ass, she earned the reputation as a whore, the best whore that money can buy. Not having to take on investors, with her trading sex for money, her wealthy clients gave her plenty of cash to start her own online, prostitution business behind the scenes.

One day, when she was finally home, relaxed, and not on the computer, we both had been drinking a little too much. Finally, I asked my daughter a question. With her having the best booze that money can buy, her Macallan single malt, 40-year-old scotch cost $40,000 a bottle. The smoothest scotch that I have ever had, yet, one sip of that scotch went right to my head.

"Humor my ignorance," I said. "Can you tell me what it is that you do to earn so much money? With me not having a computer and having never been on the Internet, I'm sorry but I don't understand what it is that you do. I don't understand how you earn so much money."