I made a review on Gum Machine Near to help you in your decision

Gum Machine Near is exactly what they say it is. You will never regret it; Gum Machine Near is really amazing.

Possible introduction for a story?
I wrote this a while ago as an introduction for a story I had in mind. I now forgot the plot I was going to have for it so if you have any ideas, do tell. A potpourri of men’s faces tends to fade into one in a prostitute’s mind. I want those words on my tomb stone. I’m not ashamed that I sell my body for money. It’s a job. Nothing more. Perform a service get paid, that’s all there is to it. I’ve come a long way. I really don’t like dwelling on my past so I will try to make this quick.Age five, my dad leaves me and my mom. I don’t really remember him so it never bothered me all that much. My mother never talked about him to me. It was like he never existed.Age nine, I attended a strict catholic school. I had the uniform and everything. My still unmarried mothers used to French braid my hair every morning. That’s when she actually cared. I walked five blocks to get to my school, “It’s Good exercise, Holly.” My mother used to say. So one day when my class was supposed to go on a field trip to the zoo, I left my permission slip at home. Even then I was forgetful. “Stay with Father Henry.” My nun said. At first, everything was fine Father Henry stayed in the classroom with me and we just Gum Machine Near talked. He brought up that his sister is having a baby, and then asked me if I knew how babies were made. I answered no and asked him how they were made. He said that he couldn’t really tell me, no, he had to show me. Innocent and young I just let him lead me into his office and lock the door. He molested me and when he was done he told me that if I didn’t tell anyone he would give me a quarter for the gum ball machine. He took my virginity and in return gave me twenty five cents.Age thirteen, my mother marries a man named Donald. I don’t know much about him, other than he liked to drink…a lot. Donald was a nasty drunk. He never took it out on my mother though; no he liked to take his anger out on me. Cigarette burns, black eyes, deep cuts. It’s not like I could fight back. A rail thin teenage girl vs. a built, hundred and eighty pound fourty year old man wo’s 5′9…theres no competition. I usually covered the marks he left on me with concealer. After a while he got bored of just beating me up. Now he was more into raping me. It happened at least three times a week. One night was more memorable then the others. My mother happened to walk in on him doing this to me. I screamed out to her for help. Donald smacked me against the face and i started crying. My mother simply ignored this and closed the door, like nothing had happened. The next day I asked her if she was going to leave Donald. She said that she was ashamed of me and never to ask her that again.Age fifteen, I get pregnant. Donald never used condoms, big surprise there. My mother said that if I got an abortion I might as well move out. I wasn’t going to have a baby that Donald could abuse. That would be like me indirectly abusing my own child. No, that was not happening. I got the abortion and moved out.Age seventeen, I blow guys for thirty dollars a pop. It wasn’t much but it was enough to get me food and shelter. This evolved into blow jobs, hand jobs, rim jobs. I started raising my prices and I dyed my naturally mousy brown hair platinum blonde. Turned my small A cups to double D’s. Then got some rhinoplasty. I saw Donald again when I was at a grocery store near my old house. He took one look at me and said I was an ugly whore and I looked disgusting. This brings us to now. I am an eighteen year old prostitute. I’m fucked up. Emotionally, physically, mentally. Whatever. You can’t change what’s already happened. All of the faces just fade into one.
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