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Working At A Brothel Story

woman in fishnet stockings, holding cash, brothel story 
Brothel Sex Story Submitted By Bob

When Angela Pollousi and her husband Rossi left Connecticut for Bigfoot, Montana, they expected to find work, and they were not disappointed. Rossi, an operating engineer, was skilled, and his craft was in demand in the nearby coal fields. Not only was the work steady, but the pay was nearly three times what it was in Connecticut.

They lived well and in anticipation of more future good times spent their money as fast as he earned it. Angie, a naturally beautiful woman of Italian descent, dressed expensively and fashionably.

Rossi traded in their older Ford sedan for a new BMW convertible. Life was good. The house they rented was really too large for them but ideal for the parties they threw. Rossi and Angie loved each other dearly, and they remained dedicated to each other as they lived high on the good life.

However, it was not to last as Rossi, on his way home from work, had driven his car off the road and, as a result of the crash, was killed. There was no insurance. Funeral expenses were expensive, and money was still owed on several credit cards. Angie was devastated. Her life was ruined and in her mind over.

Quickly realizing her situation, she moved into a single room and consolidated her few resources so that she might pay off her debts. She sought work, but nothing was available for a woman without experience and solid job skills. There was no money to return to her family in Connecticut, even if they'd accepted her, which they did not.

In bed, at night, she cried - partly from the grief over her lost love but also because her mind was occupied with urgent financial problems. A few weeks later, she finally found work as a drink server at the local bar and grill. Frequented by the workmen from the nearby mines, the bar was rather rough and tumbled, and women to serve the drinks were hard to find, especially the good looking ones like Angie.

She reported for work that first night full of high hopes for a new start, but it was soon apparent that she was destined to be a target for would-be gropers and sexually flirtatious men. Most openly propositioned her for sex and laughed at her refusal. To resist meant fewer tips and a reduction in her meager income.

Again, when she returned to her room, just past midnight, she cried. Life was hopeless. She considered her alternatives. She could always bed one of those clowns from the bar and make a few bucks, but the very idea made her ill to think about. She could also simply thumb a ride with a passing trucker to another town and a new start, but a new start might be less attractive than what she had. Then, she thought of suicide to end it all. The thought of no more pain and suffering was attractive. Of course, she thought, she'd never do it because her spirit was still strong, and she decided she would simply have to fight until her natural end.

It was as she took to the streets of the small village that Angie saw an attractive woman driving a new car to the parking lot behind the old Union Hotel. She recalled that the Union Hotel was a brothel, a whore house, and realized that the woman was working there. Later, as she prepared for work, she thought of the call girl that she'd seen earlier and thought how she had seemed so comfortable with no worries. All she had to do was fuck a man a few times a day on her terms, and she'd be well paid. Still, she thought that it might be degrading work and dismissed the through from her mind.

She went to work as usual and found that she could withstand the taunts and indignation of those men she served drinks to for now; after all, it was a living. However, as the weeks passed, Angie continued to struggle with financial problems. Life was shit, and her thoughts turned to alternatives with no easy answers.

When the fight started in the bar, nobody seemed to know quite how it started, but several seemed to report that it started over Angie. The bar furniture was devastated. The place was a mess, and after her shift, the owner came to her and told her that she was just too much of an incentive to those fight prone men to start things, and he'd have to discharge her. She was fired.

That night she went home and cried again. She was trying. She was putting forth her best effort, but she was in dire straits. There seemed to be no hope but, she reminded herself, she was a survivor.

The next morning, Angie was up, had breakfast, and set out to seek some sort of money-making endeavor. She went into each store or enterprise on the main street and queried the owners about a job with no luck. It was near noon as she saw another of the women from the Union Hotel drive by and noticed how comfortable she seemed. That woman's life was good in her eyes while hers was so shitty.

With no plan and acting on her first instinct alone, she turned and went to the back door of the old hotel and entered. Once inside, she found herself in a long hallway, which led to the front, and she followed it. Then, near the front, she entered the parlor were several women sat in their enticing garb awaiting customers. An elderly madam near the front door spotted her and asked, "Can I help you, honey?"

Angie went to her and quietly explained that she was seeking work. Miss Ella heard her explanation and asked, "Do you know what we do here?"

"Of course, I'm just tired of being hassled by a bunch of barroom asses, and I was wondering if this would be any better."

"Do you give head, take anal, or are you just into fucking? We do it all here."

"Never tried anal, but if it's part of the job, I'll learn," Angie said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

The older lady thought for a few minutes. "Could you come by Wednesday night at about nine for a tryout, and we'll see if you are suitable for this sort of thing."

So it was that she arrived Wednesday night and was embarrassed by the fact that she had no enticing clothing. A few minutes later, she sat in the parlor in a nice short nighty with matching bra and panty. She was nervous. What if she couldn't measure up? What if she could and found steady work?

A few minutes later, a large, masculine, well-dressed man came into the parlor and eyed the girls. He eyed each one before his eyes rested on Angie. He went to her and asked, "How much?"

Angie replied, "Depends on what you want." Again she sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

"Well, how about you suck my cock for a bit, and then we fuck."

"For that, I charge $250. I'm worth it."

The man retreated slightly and said, "Hell, these other gals will do it for $200. Why should I pay you $250?"

"I'm not one of those girls, and I'm worth it," Angie said and realized that she'd probably blown her tryout if the man walked away.

To her surprise, the man smiled and said, "You've got a deal." And they headed down the hall to room 112.

Once inside the room, Angie recalled the order of the operations. First, money. She got the $250 and went to the deposit box in the rest area. Then on returning to the room, she found the man standing as she'd left him. She went to him, embraced him, and brushed her lips against his cheek in a simulated kiss. "Get undressed," she said.

As the man removed his clothing, Angie went to the bathroom and got a basin of warm water and a washcloth. Into the basin of water, she places a few drops of sanitizing soap solution. On her return to her John, she found him nude and went to him again. She grasped his cock and examined it carefully for evidence of sores or open lesions that might indicate infection. Then, she washed his entire groin area with the water from the basin and dried him accordingly.

As she worked, she realized that she'd never really observed a rapidly expanding cock before and she felt a strange sensation. "Nice cock you've got there, she said. "Let's see what it can do." Again, she sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

As they moved to the bed, Angie rubbed a glob of lubricant into her pussy in anticipation of her work ahead. Then, on the bed, she moved over the man, between his widely skewed legs, grasped his cock, installed the condom, and planted her lips on it. Being inexperienced at giving head, she sought his advice on how to do it properly. Advice he gave gladly, and soon, he seemed quite happy as she sucked him.

She moved her hands along his rigid shaft up and down along with her mouth, sometimes pausing to suck his testicles into her mouth and move her fingertips over the head of his cock. The feel of her soft pink lips and tongue sliding over his steel rod was driving him insanely close to orgasm.

Suddenly, the man sat up and grabbed her roughly to turn her and throw her on her back. There, he moved over her and rammed his cock into her pussy. It was a quick entry and somewhat painful, but Angie gave no sign of pain, she smiled weakly and thrust herself further on to him.

Thrusting and counter-thrusting, the coitus began quickly. The man seemed determined to drive her into the bed. In less than a minute, she felt the man going through the actions of ejaculation. As he reveled in his ejaculation, Angie held him to her. She wanted to let him feel the effects of the afterglow. She allowed her lips to caress his cheeks. They lay for perhaps two or three minutes when she reported, "Sorry, your time is up." Then, without delay, she retrieved a basin of warm water and washed all evidence of their tryst from his groin.

As he dressed, she assisted him in making pleasant conversation with him the whole time. Having dressed, the man was escorted to the room door and kissed lightly on the cheek as he left.

She went back, cleaned up the room, and returned to the parlor. There, seated in the parlor, Miss Ella came to her and suggested they go to her office and talk. Once there, the old woman became antagonistic as she asked, "What the hell did you do to that guy? He paid you fifty over and left a fifty tip."

"I just followed the rules."

"You must have done something to impress him; she said, her antagonism gone. He has never spent money like that before."

"I guess he likes me."

"OK, Room 112 is yours. You'll live there full-time until you no longer work here. You'll take your meals in our dining room, and the laundry will be done by our maid. Otherwise, cleaning the room is your responsibility."

So with that, Angie became a professional whore. After a week, she had regained her confidence and was paying off her bills. Then, after a month, she was debt-free. She became very proficient in her work, and the men sought her. Months passed this way with her making a great deal of money and feeling like her life was better.

It'd been a busy time lately at the old hotel, and Angie was serving upwards of 12 clients a day - she seldom had time for anything else. As Angie stepped out of the old hotel to do some shopping was when it happened. It was a busy evening, and she'd run out of lubricant and sought the local pharmacy to purchase more. It was there that she heard about the raid, the Union Hotel was being raided, and the whores hauled off to jail.

She moved quickly to her car and drove away, fortunate that her purse with credit cards, checkbook and driver's license, etc., was still with her.

Confident now, she sped away. She was a survivor.

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