I am a trailer trash whore. I no longer live in a trailer park, but you can take the whore out of the trailer park, you just can never remove the trailer park from the whore. I will always think like a trailer park whore. Once upon a time, I lived in an old camper in the back of my parents’ trailer in rural West Virginia. Most of my life was spent tied to a dirty mattress like a caged animal. No love. I was their cash cow. They pimped me out and eventually sold me to my husband. The joke is on them though because now I am thriving. I am the trashy milf madam of a home brothel, but my girls see a higher class of men than I did. They are treated far better than I was too. They get most of their hard-earned money. They have nice rooms in the house. They attend school. They have friends and all the modern gadgets. They have lives as whores. I had no life but the whore life. My life began when my husband bought me. He had to wait a couple years to marry me legally, but I started birthing him sweet angels. We have made a pretty penny using my parents’ model for prostitution but classing it up a lot. The clientele at truck stops in West Virginia is much different than the clientele in Los Angeles my husband works with. My sons and daughter have a great life. Now, I do too thanks to my husband.
We had a special Thanksgiving dinner last night. A huge spread for our top clients. They got to eat a family style meal with their rent a brats. And my young, sexy prostitutes got to spoil their rent a daddies. There is no charge for this. It is just us paying it forward and letting our top spenders know how much we appreciate their business. My girls, and even my youngest son got their holes stuffed a little early with man gravy. My parents could have made enough money to move out of the trailer park if they had been wiser in their prostitution ring. I am not the kind of woman who lets bad experiences define her. I took what I learned from being a whore and made the best and most profitable home brothel around.
