"Memories of a whore" (part 01)

Brief Prologue: This narrative was inspired by a bundle of yellow pages that were found by me among forgotten family heirlooms that are the autobiography of a prostitute who lived at the beginning of the twentieth century in the vicinity of the hill of kerosene, in São Gonçalo, in Rio de Janeiro. As I did not have access to the full text, some parts were fictionalized and still considering that this woman, whom I will call Nina, started in prostitution still very young, I will omit age data remaining timeless and narrating in the first person. Throughout the narrative, you readers will understand the reasons for my fascination with the story. 01 <unk> Joys and misadventures My name is Nina, and I am a whore! In fact, from an early age I found myself a whore! It was not a choice, but the only option of life to survive in the midst of so much misery; I was born in a poor family who lived in a cottage located in the vicinity of the Morro do Querosene, in São Gonçalo; my mother, of European descent on account of her grandparents, was a slender blonde woman and mistreated by life and by her choices; already my father was a descendant of blacks with Portuguese influence and worked as a butcher when there was a job ..., and when he was not serving as a flying workforce in a nearby slaughterhouse, spending the little he earned on women and drinks. I have a brother named Carlos who also learned from an early age to live from coffee making and who after a while fell into the world and was never seen again; as I said, we lived in a cottage occupying a small space that served as a bedroom, kitchen and living room with a bathroom that served only to shit and urinate when the smell allowed. But, all this is soft talk ..., let's get to the point! I discovered sex very early; at an early age I already loved to spy on the tough cocks of the schoolboys and enjoyed watching them measure their sticks in a curious competition; until then, I had never ventured beyond opportunistic snooping, not even with my brother, who I later found out was the owner of a respectable benga. My first experience with looting happened more or less by chance. I had a little boy named William, a little older than me, whose parents were financially well off, which is why he always brought the best snack and had new toys; one day he came to school with a notebook displaying extreme skill in handling it; I was curious and eager to have an equal; William was a chubby, snotty kid always with an air of cowardice that, to me at the time, didn't mean much; he noticed my interest and during recess he approached me, showing off his equipment. "Did you like my toy?" he asked with a naughty chuckle. Can I play with him? I asked without hiding my anxiety. I would do anything to play a little! - It depends <unk> he replied with tricks <unk> I'll give it to you if you do one thing for me... I asked even more curiously. -Do you know where the tank is ..., in the back, near the wall? <unk> he returned questioning me <unk> asks to go to the bathroom and meets me there ..., with the lessons no one will understand ..., and I tell you what I want ..., tops? Without thinking I nodded my head and smiled; we returned to class and after a while, I raised my hand asking to go to the bathroom; the teacher, a middle-aged woman always in a bad mood, allowed me after a few moans. I ran to the agreed place without thinking about anything else; the warehouse was a poorly made construction made of recycled wood that served as a place for storing tools and other items used in the maintenance of the school by Zelão (I will tell you about it later). When I arrived, Guilherme was already there waiting for me. As soon as I entered, he smiled with an air of naiveté and wasted no time in opening the sleeve of his trousers and putting his pin out; I looked pretending to be surprised, since it was not the first I had seen in my life, but it was the first that was so close; it was a thin and long cock with its head covered by a skin and which was already presenting itself in readiness. "If you play with my cock and make me squirt, I'll give you the toy", he proposed with an anxious expression. - Okay, I'm joking <unk> I answered quickly and scared <unk> But, you need to show me how to do it, which I don't know. He asked me to come over and hold his dick; I thought it was funny that he was hard and swollen with the top of his head sticking out of the skin; William showed me how he did it, pulling and pushing in a way that made it harder and he moaned softly. It didn't take long for me to learn how to do it and soon I was punching that brazen tease. After a while he began to pant and sweat, bending his body and trembling ..., suddenly he grunted hoarse and contracted while the pinto pulsed in my hand, soon exploding as if he was peeing; but instead of urine what came out was a whitish goo that projected into the air. Immediately, I let go of the fucking thing and jumped backwards for fear that that fancy dough would get me dirty; Guillermo finished the job himself and then took a handkerchief out of the back pocket of his pants and cleaned himself. When I asked for payment for what I had done, he was rude and pushed me; I fell to the ground on top of a puddle of mud. - You're a little whore! I'm not going to give you anything! - he shouted as he walked to the warehouse door - My father warned me that Ifigenia's daughter was a whore! And I found out that it's true! I stood there alone, dirty with mud and wanting to cry; but I refused to act that way. I got up and cleaned myself as I could, going back to the classroom; and then the sadness turned to revolt. Who was that mole to call me a whore and also to my mother? It could not be like that! I needed to take revenge. And the instrument of my revenge was before my eyes ..., at the time of departure I saw Carlos, my brother. He was outside, leaning against the walls lighting a cigarette. Carlos was older than me and not the best of the brothers, but he was my blood and always protected me; I approached him and held his arm before he lit the cigarette, telling what had happened. When I told him that William had called me and our mother a whore, his eyes became infected with hatred. At the same time, William was leaving school accompanied by some friends of his age. "Go home, sister!" ordered Carlos to me, putting the cigarette back in the pack. I tried to argue with him, wanting to know what he would do. "Go home! Now!" he shouted in an angry tone. Since I knew my brother well, I did not answer, marching back home. On the way, I thought that William deserved a punishment not because he called me a whore, or even cursed my mother, but because he called me a bitch. In fact, at that time I did not really know what it meant to be a whore; I only knew that it was something very offensive and that I could not be taxed that way since the bully did not know me. -Hey, girl! How dirty you are! <unk> cried Anastasia when she saw me <unk> Come here I'll take care of it! If your mother sees you like this you'll get one of those! Anastasia was a fat, breasted black woman who lived next door to us; she was a seamstress and a good person, but everyone commented that she had other sources of income; on the other hand, she loved my mother very much and always helped with some change and supplies. I looked at her and was ashamed of my condition; Anastasia gave a loose laugh and opened her arms to me. She embraced me and kissed my cheeks; we went into her room and kitchen and she told me to take off my clothes; I was a little puzzled, but Anastasia was like family and I took off my dress, leaving only my underwear. "Good girl! Look, you already have boobs! What beautiful little things!" commented the black woman, touching the small apples with pink beaks. A shiver ran through my skin when I felt Anastasia's fat, warm hand caressing my boobs, but I controlled myself so as not to report how excited that gesture had made me (by the way, excitement was also unknown to me at that moment in life). Anastasia put the dress to wash and then gave me another one. "If your mother asks, say it was a gift from me; then I'll give you this one, okay? Now go away, little angel with boobs!" she said as she felt my little breasts once more. I resumed my journey but was soon overtaken by Carlos, who was carrying the notebook. I was so excited to see the toy, but when I reached out to grab it, Carlos threw it on the floor, grabbed my arm tightly, and slapped me in the face. "Look here, puppy! I don't ever want you to be a fucking asshole again, do you understand? If that happens again, I'll put my hand on you! Do you understand? Now, take the toy and get out of my way!" shouted Carlos before releasing me and going his way. Although I wanted to cry, I leaned down, grabbed the toy, and told myself that my brother wasn't in charge of me. From that day on, I discovered a way to gain an advantage; it was enough to offer myself to a handmaid and the boys would do whatever I wanted. And so it happened. Every time I went to the playground, I approached one of them asking for a proposal and asking for something in return. The first to come was Manoael the son of Jeremiah the mechanic. He gave me two twenties saying that it was all he had; I looked at that money and I was hallucinating! We ran to the bottom of an old depository and Manoel lowered his pants showing his penis; my eyes rolled when I saw the boy holding that thick, hard cock. <unk>So what? Are you going to punch me or not? We don't have all day, bitch!<unk>, he grumbled in an impatient tone. I came out of the trance and got down on my knees in front of him, manipulating that thick pin. The bastard took a long time to spit and my hand was already hurting when he reached the end; I pointed the stick to the ground and waited for the whole load to be poured. At the end, he straightened up, gave a smile and said: "That was very good! It was worth all my money! When I have more I want it again!" After him, others came and the fashion of offering me money became the most common practice. It was not much, but enough to buy sweets, bullets and even a new pair of shoes. My only requirement was that Carlos, my brother, didn't know what I was doing behind the tank. "You're crazy, girl! If he finds out, he'll beat me to death!" commented Ezekiel, who was in the same class as my brother. It was he who paid for something else. He said he wanted to suck my nipples! Ezekiel was a handsome, nice, no-frills black guy and had a huge dick that almost caused me a dislocation for all the effort in manipulating it. While I was punching him, I opened my dress and proudly displayed my little nipples with the hard beaks; he licked and sucked so willingly that I felt something dripping inside my groin and a burning burning inside ..., I just know it was very good! After a while, Ezekiel began to tremble like a green stick and moaned. I realized that it was the cue to put myself in a strategic position ..., well I did it, because the subject's splash was voluminous. Everything was going very well for me; I was known at school as the punching whore and even though I didn't know yet what it meant to be a whore, I was proud of the title. However, what is good in life ends soon ..., and it ended even when I was caught by Zelão, who was a kind of do-it-all at school from repairs to surveillance of the girl. He was a tall, muscular black man with a grotesque look that put fear in everyone ..., and it was no different with me! He caught me in a manner, as soon as the boy I punched disappeared from sight. P.S. If anyone has any news about the book that inspired this tale, know that I'd like to purchase it.