Slut
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I’m noticing prostitution references everywhere, the way you notice the type of car you just bought wherever you go—in articles, in conversation. The concept of whore is endlessly fascinating.
As Anton LaVey points out in The Satanic Witch, a campy book on seduction and manipulation: “Some of the best witches are prostitutes. It’s their job to attract men! They not only learn the little quirks that other women never see in men, but they must be able to dress, act, and think outside their natural role.”
I keep having fitful dreams in which I get arrested, get in trouble, get beat up. I fret over my first experience. I feel like I’m about to visit a new country and I don’t speak the language or know the customs or what to expect.
I think it’s so stupid that prostitution is illegal. What’s the difference between taking a woman out to eat at a fancy restaurant or on a trip, spending money on her that way, as opposed to just handing her cash? Why is it that if I have a guy over and we fuck, that’s perfectly legal, but if he leaves money on the dresser, that’s breaking the law? I feel guilty over doing anything illegal, like parking in the wrong spot or driving with empty beer cans in my trunk to recycle. And anyway, it would be so much safer for everyone, men and women, if prostitution were regulated.
I want to focus on safer situations, older men, geeks, fetishists. I have creepy old man fantasies, of being ravaged by someone beastly. I’m fascinated by how men get ruled by their cock sometimes, how they’re driven to spread their seed, and how once they ejaculate, their interest in the whole endeavor drops from their head to their feet. I like the idea of minimizing my time with them, leaving at the end of an hour instead of hanging around.
I saw a Desperate Housewives episode where one housewife on the block would entertain the local men in her lovely home, stepping on them with her high heels and satisfying their urges, and then they would return home to their cold wives.
I want to add spice to the lives of all the men who live around me, help fill a void. Now when I go out and run my errands, I size up all the older men, all the chubby non-descript guys, all the men in suits, and think, that could be a future client. I’ll be intimately involved with a guy just like that. I’ll rub my feet on him or let him stick his fingers in my pussy.
I’m noticing prostitution references everywhere, the way you notice the type of car you just bought wherever you go—in articles, in conversation. The concept of whore is endlessly fascinating.
As Anton LaVey points out in The Satanic Witch, a campy book on seduction and manipulation: “Some of the best witches are prostitutes. It’s their job to attract men! They not only learn the little quirks that other women never see in men, but they must be able to dress, act, and think outside their natural role.”
I keep having fitful dreams in which I get arrested, get in trouble, get beat up. I fret over my first experience. I feel like I’m about to visit a new country and I don’t speak the language or know the customs or what to expect.
I think it’s so stupid that prostitution is illegal. What’s the difference between taking a woman out to eat at a fancy restaurant or on a trip, spending money on her that way, as opposed to just handing her cash? Why is it that if I have a guy over and we fuck, that’s perfectly legal, but if he leaves money on the dresser, that’s breaking the law? I feel guilty over doing anything illegal, like parking in the wrong spot or driving with empty beer cans in my trunk to recycle. And anyway, it would be so much safer for everyone, men and women, if prostitution were regulated.
I want to focus on safer situations, older men, geeks, fetishists. I have creepy old man fantasies, of being ravaged by someone beastly. I’m fascinated by how men get ruled by their cock sometimes, how they’re driven to spread their seed, and how once they ejaculate, their interest in the whole endeavor drops from their head to their feet. I like the idea of minimizing my time with them, leaving at the end of an hour instead of hanging around.
I saw a Desperate Housewives episode where one housewife on the block would entertain the local men in her lovely home, stepping on them with her high heels and satisfying their urges, and then they would return home to their cold wives.
I want to add spice to the lives of all the men who live around me, help fill a void. Now when I go out and run my errands, I size up all the older men, all the chubby non-descript guys, all the men in suits, and think, that could be a future client. I’ll be intimately involved with a guy just like that. I’ll rub my feet on him or let him stick his fingers in my pussy.
I'd agree with you on the prostitution thing if prostitution were regulated and children weren't forced into it. But until then-and face it, it'll be almost impossible to make that work....Until then I can't agree.