64 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
64 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
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POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!
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POD! POD!
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POD! THE PERVERTS OF DOOM! present: POD!
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POD! POD!
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POD! POD!
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POD! The Perverts Library #2 POD!
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POD! ----------------------- POD!
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POD! "Whore Story" POD!
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POD! POD!
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POD! by FUNKY FISH VAGINA POD!
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POD! 7/5/89 POD!
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POD! POD#002 POD!
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POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!POD!
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I'm a whore. Not a call girl, or a sex surrogate, or a massage therapist;
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you have to take out an ad to even pretned to be those things, and I'm usually
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too busy on my back to visit the swing papers. I'm a street hooker, I wake up
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at about noon, stand on my favorite street corner on Santa Monica Boulevard,
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and wait for the ttricks to pull up. They always do; it's not hard to figure
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out that a big-breasted young girl in hot pants and a tube top (38-24-36) isn't
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just waiting for the bus. At midnight, or when Vice comes out, I'll go back to
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my apartment and rub some baby oil on my pussy. My cunt is usually pretty red
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and sore by then, for good reason; I usually fuck about ten tricks a day.
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Why do I do it? I'm blonde, nineteen years old, and sexy enough to make the
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other girls on Santa Monica jealous enough to spit. Some of my tricks drive
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Mercedes and Ferraris; every night I get offers from men who want to take me
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away from "the life," to put up me up as a concubine in some swank Malibu cliff
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house. I always turn them down.
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The reason I'm a street hooker, you see, is that I love to ruck. I've been
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busted more times than I can count, and I know my probation officer has me
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listed as an SD12, which is the penal code number for sexual deviant. I know
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I'm a nymphomaniac, and I don't care. I could never shack up with just one
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man, no matter how rich he was. I'd spend the whole day playing with my pussy
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and thinking about getting fucked.
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My parents are nice, regular people with a tract house in the San Fernando
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Valley. My dad finally kicked me out a year ago, and I can't blame him. The
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last straw was when I invited the local football team home to take me, two at a
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time. That was before I realized I could get paid for doing what I was giving
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up for free!
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I've always been this horny. I can remember rushing home to look at my pussy
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in the mirror and spend the whole day playing with it, even when I was letting
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guys bang me every week. Most vice cops agree that some girls are just born to
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be whores. Well, that's me.
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As a hooker, I get all the fucking I need. Not all the guys who pull up to
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my curb are old and ugly; some of my tricks are handsome young guys, who just
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want to squirt a nice load of cum before they go back to their girlfriends.
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That's fine with me. I spread my legs for Latins, Anglos, Blacks, Orientals,
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everybody. Soem of the working girls don't like fucking the local Marines,
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because the young guys want too much for their fifty bucks. That's why the
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Marines are my favorites! The only thing I don't like about my job is how much
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dick-sucking I have to do. My pussy is what gets wet and swollen, not my
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mouth! I also love fucking so much, sometimes I almost forget it's how I make
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my living and forget to take the money! I'm writing this letter after a full
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day on Santa Minica. I had eight tricks today, and my cunt's pretty sore. The
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thing is, I know I'm going to be hornier than ever tomorrow. I like being a
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hooker and I don't want to be cured!
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EOF 7/5/89
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