Jane Gulpton

2354 Mill Street

Cando, N.D

My dearest sister Jane:

Since my last letter, things have not gone well. I have been unable to find employment and my bank account is dwindling. Opportunities are not good here in Everheart and I think that what got me fired at the Dollar Store may have leaked out despite my manager’s promise that he would never speak of it. My cable bill is due in three days. I owe the guy who runs the trailer park convenience store twenty dollars, and I don’t have any money.

I regret to say that I am forced to do what women have always done in desperate times. I am going to sell my body. 

It is true. To get money, I will need to bring strange men into my home, then take my clothes off and let them use my body to satisfy their sexual desires. Instead of getting dressed and going off to the Dollar Store, I will spend my days naked on my bed, my legs spread, with my most intimate womanly parts exposed to the leering stares of men.

The thoughts of what I will have to do disgust me, but I am determined.

These men — farmers, ranchers, barbers, insurance salesmen, fry cooks — will pay me to dance, strip naked for them, and masturbate while they watch. I will take their penises in my hand and jerk them until they cum. Some will want to rub their dicks between my breasts and ejaculate on my face. For money, I will let them fuck me — one after another — missionary, doggie, reverse cowboy — until their seed is spent and their erections go limp. They will use my mouth like they use my vagina. I’ll lick their testicles and tongue their anuses. I will gulp down hot semen as it gushes from their engorged cocks. 

As you read this letter, I very well may have some local farmer—his overalls around his knees—sweating and panting on top of my naked body, pounding me with his cock, his hairy balls banging against my ass, and his hot beery breath in my face. Because that must be my life now.

To protect me from violence, I will acquire a pimp, a muscular black man named Antoine, who will protect me and call me his beautiful baby. He will comfort me after a night servicing men in the back room of the Everheart Lions Club. When not working, I will smoke marijuana with his other whores and we will engage in lesbianism to relieve the boredom of our off-work hours.

I will buy my clothes from the slut store in Bismarck: garter belts, corsets, crotchless panties, and bras with holes cut to expose my nipples. You will find me at dusk standing in front of the grange in a leather mini-skirt asking the passing farm hands if they want to have a good time. You will see me on my knees in the parking lot behind the VFW building tending to obese veterans who will rest their giant bellies on my head as I suck their cocks, and afterward, they will thank me for my service.

There will be orgies. My girlfriends and I will be rented out for parties in the mansion outside of town owned by that soybean baron. The men will wear masks like the one the Lone Ranger wore, and we ladies of the night will have to entertain them by doing unspeakable things to each other on a raised stage in the center of a beautiful ballroom.

There will be a special room in the mansion with a carousel, like at the county fair, but instead of carved horses the animals will be gargoyles and demons, and instead of regular saddles, the sculpted animals will have phalluses we put inside us when we climb on. The phalluses go up and down with the music, and, while the men in masks dance to the music of the calliope, the ribbed dildos penetrate us again and again. As we writhe and squirm, helpless against the pulsating demon dildoes, our naked breasts will bounce and swing beneath the carnival lights. After a few revolutions of the carousel, the calliope music will be drowned out by the moans and cries of women in orgasmic ecstasy. 

After we ladies of the night have been turned to jelly by the evil and lascivious merry-go-round, the masked men tear us away from the carved animals and replace those artificial penises with real ones. I become lost in a vortex of writhing, pulsating flesh, my body violated over and over again, my cries of pain and pleasure lost amidst the howls of the ongoing orgy around me. My old Dollar Tree self disappears and my world becomes a hallucinatory procession of breasts, buttocks, cocks, and vaginas.   

The next thing I will remember is that everything is quiet and I am back at home. My body is spent, but recovering. I am completely relaxed and the penis in my hand is Antoine’s. He is caressing me softly and says to me I am the only woman he has ever truly loved, and he will never leave me. I snuggle up in his powerful arms, and he asks me if I want to take the day off. I thank him for the offer, but say no. I am strong. I am woman, and that cable bill will not pay itself.

You probably think this idea of selling my body is just another pipe dream like last month when I wrote to you about joining a harem, or the time before that when I was going to run off to be a groupie for that country western band. But this time I am serious as a nun. A nun who wears slutty clothes and has sex. This time, I am really going to do it. I really am.

By the way. This is just between you and me. 

Don’t tell Mom.

Your sister always

Lisa Gulpton