Erotic Story: Female Desires

I have a nice female acquaintance, Lisa.
We don’t see each other a lot, but I’m always happy to see her again.
Her appearance is youthful, making her look younger than she is.
Her body is a real pleasure to look at.
She’s far from fat, but everything about her is round and feminine.
Even her face and her eyes, complete with super long eyelashes.
Oh, and her breasts…. They are so full and round.
I often catch myself staring at those beautiful curves.

One day, we decided to take a walk in the park , not far from my house.
And yes, I caught myself staring at her breasts, again…..
Oops! She noticed it!
I tried to disguise my inappropriate behavior.
“Well….you wear a nice blouse.”, I stammered.
My goodness, what a fake reaction……
She blushed, and it made her look even more beautiful.

She’s cute , she’s funny, she has a good heart….
But she’s very insecure about her body, not to mention shy when it comes to sex.
Fortunately, not too shy to tell me her experiences. She knows she can talk about these things, because ‘I have expertise’.
And I often notice she feels ashamed of herself. She never takes the initiative, even not when her boyfriend asks what she likes.
And these are foreign thoughts, to me, for I’m to opposite.
I absolutely feel no shame during sex, I feel free.

And just like other times, I tried to make clear to her that she didn’t have to feel embarrassed.
“You’re young, beautiful, and attractive. Don’t you see that men find you attractive?”
She blushed: “I never noticed that.”
“I think you’re attractive too, even as a woman.”
Silence….
Ooops, I said too much.
She blushed.
I confirmed my words again. “Really, I think you are attractive. I’d like to have sex with you, if I were a man.”
Lisa answered:”And, as being a women, would you want to have sex with me?”
I gulped. I never had sex with a woman!
“Hmm. Yes, maybe…..”
Lisa didn’t wait for my reaction; “I suppose that’ no?” . Her face cramped.
Her expression was hard to describe.
I said:”No, I didn’t mean that! But I don’t have any experience with women!”
She laughed: “Then you are not so experienced as you claim to be!”
And these were the last words we spoke, during our walk.

Then we arrived at my home.
I was supposed to make dinner, because it was almost dinner time.
And I didn’t feel like it…

The phone rang……
“Good evening, who is that speaking?….. Anthony!”

Yes, that was Anthony, The Anthony from my first story.
He had become a part of my life, since we met at the restaurant.

“Hi, Aphrodite, everything is fine? I want to see you. Can I come to you, now?”
“I’m really sorry, but Lisa is here. We still have to prepare dinner, and I have no idea what to cook.”
Anthony answered: “Well, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come over here, with Lisa?”
I beamed.
Lisa saw it , and asked: “Who is that?
“That’s Anthony, the handsome man I met two weeks ago. He asks if we want to come to his place.
Hopefully he will have made a nice dinner.”

Lisa: “Oh, sounds great. I wonder what he’s like.”
Yes, you certainly do, I thought.
Within an hour we arrived at his place.
“Oh, I’m honored to entertain two lovely women, this evening”, he said.
“You’re a such a flatterer, Anthony.” I said.
I winked at Lisa.

His cookery didn’t disappoint us. He made us a tasty lasagna.
And he poured three glasses of the same wine he poured at ‘our’ first meeting.
He introduced himself to Lisa. “I don’t think I introduced myself already,
I’m 40 years old, accountant, and above all, Aphrodite’s sexual possession.”
I protested: “Please Anthony, you’re not a saint. It’s not like I’m your only woman.
And besides, who says you’re my only man?……..” I loved to tease him.
Indeed, He was the only man who could offer me such a great sex.

After that very suggestive comment, the three of us chatted on laughed, and Anthony poured wine for the third time.
I protested: “Not too much wine please. I don’t know if my stomach can endure more wine.”
Lisa also declined the offer.
I looked at her. She was blushing, due to the wine, I think.
I felt that I had become unabashed.
And I started fondling her hair. Lisa giggled.
And then I looked at Anthony. He was enjoying the view.
I knew what he wanted, and that I wanted it too.

I kept caressing her hair and then I continued by touching her neck.
“Oh…?” She was surprised.
But she didn’t have to worry. Not in my presence or Anthony’s.
“I know this is exciting for you, Lisa. Do you want to feel my hands on your skin?”
Lisa hesitated.
“You don’t have to feel shy, Lisa.”
Then I kissed her lips, very softly.
I saw her glance had changed. She looked at me, yearning for more.
And she could get more, much more.
I pulled out her blouse.
“You have such a nice breasts.”, I said.
“Hmmmm………thank you.”
She let escape little moans, while I kissed her breasts.
I sucked on her nipples, and bit the soft skin, very gently.
“Ooh, this feels so good…”. Lisa moaned.

I looked at Anthony. He had loosened his pants.
He was busy satisfying himself, while he lustfully observed us.
I encouraged her:“ I want you to enjoy every sensation you’re going to feel this evening.
And I want you to not feel guilty about it, promise?”
“Yes…..I promise.” I let my hand slip into her nickers. She was soaking wet.
I pulled her against my body. Her naked back touched my breasts.
I felt her lower body moving. She curved her back and pushed her butt against my lab.
“I want to undress you too, Aphrodite.”
She turned around and released me from my skintight dress.
There we were, both dressed in only nickers.

“Well Anthony, you’re so far away. You’re allowed to come closer, so you can have a better view…..”
He didn’t hesitate of course. He walked straight to Lisa.
He gave me a wink.
I held her face up, so I could intensely kiss her.
I gave her a little warning: “Anthony is interested in you too. Do you allow him?”
“Yes….. I want to feel him too…”
While I was pleasing her breasts, he took off her nickers, and started massaging her buttocks.
Lisa sighed:“Oooh… keep going. You too Aphrodite.”
Her eyes turned watery, so horny she was.
Her lower body moved faster and faster. I felt her fluid dripping off my fingers.
But then I stopped. “I think you want to feel something else than my fingers, don’t you?”
Her eyes grew big.

Anthony led her to the table. Yes, that table where he and I fucked for the first time.
He let her lie on her back. I looked her in the eyes to put her at ease.
“Oooh….” Anthony’s penis entered her pussy.
Ooooh, this scene was so extremely erotic……

Her breasts were wobbling at the rhythm of Anthony’s poundings.
And I kept kissing her, her breasts, her neck, her belly, her feet…
Every bodypart of her was lovable. And she had tiny feet. I tickled them.
“OoOh, aaaahh”. She laughed. A vein in her neck was shown. Her orgasm was not far off.
Anthony sped up the rhythm.
“Aaah….Aaaah….. I’m going to come.” She closed her eyes.
“No stop,…not….yet….oooh!”
She came hard and intense.
And she was totally exhausted after that.
But Anthony didn’t came, yet.
I was surprised he could hold it up so long. He wasn’t satisfied yet.
“Hmmm, do you need a blowjob?”
I took him in my mouth. I heard him moaning.
“Oh, you’re so good…..your mouth is so hot…hmmm.”
I kept looking in his eyes, while I was licking his glans and shaft.
“You like it when I look at you, like that…so submissive…”
I grabbed his buttocks, to make him more horny.
“I want to come in you, while she’s watching…..”, he grumbled.
“Now turn around.”, he took me from behind.
My buttocks touched his crotch, with every pounding.
He penetrated me hard and fast.
“Oooh yes, come in me, please!”
He grabbed my hips and squirted his sperm in me.
He gave a loud cry of delight.
And the three of us rested, all naked, all horny, all wet….

Lisa smiled and her eyes beamed.
“How do you feel , now you’ve tried something new?”
She giggled: “Better than ever. I didn’t feel any hesitation. I never felt like that before.”
I answered: “And I never felt a body like that before”.

And then we both laughed.

 

My mother’s reaction

Dear readers,

Some people are maybe interested in my coming-out process, so I’ll tell you a bit.

These are common questions you find on the internet:
What if your mother find out you’re a sex worker?
What should I do; don’t tell her, and hope she won’t discover it, ever?
What would be her reaction? Crying, yelling, kicking me out, stop loving me?
In my case, those questions are answered already, fortunately

First of all, my mother knew before I wasn’t the saint I seemed to be to the outside world.
She caught me watching porn at 14, she knew of my affair with this first ‘boyfriend’ (who actually could be my dad, regarding his age) , she knew about my penchant for watching naked women, etc….
Although I never considered that as bad things.

Still these experiences must have had an effect on the reaction of my mother.
To say so, I can hide everything from almost everybody….But not from my mom.
She can detect all my worries and problems from a distance.
She can judge my mood by the way I walk, how my face looks and the clothes I wear….
It’s just an impossible task to hide things from her.
Plus, during the years, my unfortunate attempts to keep things secret diminished.
I didn’t want her to find this out of course, but I knew she was going to discover it, sooner, or later.

It went something like this:
So there was this day with my mother, at home, in the kitchen.
It was painfully silent, and we were both eating, without looking at eachother.
‘She knows,’ I thought.
And I was right.
After a tantalizing silence, she suddenly asked: ‘Sayuri, are you in prostitution?’
Me:”No……”
She: “Are you sure?”
Me: “……No…….”
She: “So that means you do actually prostitute yourself?”
me: “Hmmm…..Yes…?”
She: ….Pffft……..I could have known it.
All these beautiful clothes you bought lately.
And you were saying you had no money…”
Me, hesitant: “That’s why I’m in prostitution…(gulping)
She: “I absolutely don’t like this, Sayuri…. I’m disappointed.”
Me: “….silence…..”
Me: “Are you angry….(I expected a very loud ‘YESSS’)
She: “No, I’m not angry, it makes no sense, being angry at you, it simply doesn’t affect you (but it did, actually).
Me: “So, what are you going to do know?”
She:” I’ll try my best to talk you out of this…profession.”
Me: I thought you were going to throw me out…
She: “Why should I do that? I’ll throw you to the wolves, if I did that.”
Me: “Thanks…”
She: “No thanks. You know you can always come to me.” (sighed)
Me: “Thanks”

We didn’t talk about it anymore that day, but there are times my mom tries to gauge my activities and feelings.
Then she says: “Are you still in it? Do you take care for yourself?”
And my answer is mostly blurred. I do take care for myself, but I’m still in ‘it’, and I’m hesitant to answer an articulate ‘yes’.

Then I went to my sister, who accidentally discovered the news before.
She said: “I had thrown you out.”
I gasped.
I wasn’t shocked by the reaction per se, because I had expected this reaction. But why did SHE said that.
She isn’t a saint either. She had done some not-so-smart-things in the past. I was a bit disappointed in her.
Me: “Why. What would you accomplish with that?”
She: “You’re lucky our mom is so nice to you. If it were me, I had certainly thrown you out.”
Honestly, I was a bit confused. Not because of the reaction, but I found her a bit hypocritical.
If she were me, didn’t she hope for a ‘humane’ treatment?
And she did some very impulsive things in the past, so it’s not that she’s ‘better’ in a way.
Besides, I don’t think throwing your kids out because they did something morally wrong, is a good solution. Except in some cases, when children are abusive towards their parents. Then it’s better to separate.

Although (hopefully) she doesn’t read this, I’m very thankful for her being my mother.
From the very beginning she told me: “Whatever  stupid or crazy things you’ll do in the future, I’ll never give you up. My dad and I are still your home”.
Well, that’s a great example of an Unconditional Positive Regard*
NO ONE can blame my parents for bad parenting.
They’ve done everything they could to keep me from danger and socially unacceptable activities. And they didn’t succeed in that.
But that doesn’t mean they’re bad parents.
What does ‘bad parenting’ mean anyway. Every parent who genuinely loves his/her child has the potential to be a good parent.
I’ll never call them ‘failed’ parents.
They taught me universally humane values, like having respect for others, not abuse others, help people in need, always being kind, treat others as you want to be treated, don’t just reject people etc….
I can say… I’m proud at my parents, both of them!
In an ever-changing world full of divorces, they figure as an oasis of peace and love…..

*A term coming from Carl Rogers, a humanist psychologist.

My Desire

Unfulfilled desires
Fulfill these desires,
Take advantage of my lust,
I need you, Need you here and need you now,
My body, It Aches for you,
These lips upon my face they desire yours to rhythmically move against them,
I will beg on my knees if I must,
But I need you, Need you close to me, I need your body close warming mine,
The darkness lived in our hearts but once we’re reunited,
The light will shine through once more,
So please let my dreams, Let my desires, All become reality, Just Be, Be Mine.

-Victoria Blackmire-

Some of you might question…

Doesn’t she have greater goals in life, than just prostitution? Yes. I want to find, or at least pursue that one thing most of us are looking for, love. I think sometimes; If I had found someone I loved, would I have entered prostitution? No, I think that the lack of thereof somehow is another reason why I took the decision. Because there is no one I’m really ‘bound’ to. I simply don’t feel responsible to someone. I don’t feel I have to explain my behaviour to someone..

And still…. I long for this one man. This one man who is not available (typically me).
I know this man since two years. He’s sweet, adventurous, free-spirited and loves beautiful young women.
My character of Anthony is based on him. I didn’t have much time, and I wasn’t in the mood by the way, to write some more erotic stories.
But these stories are the outcome of a deep unfulfilled desire.
Unlike my short stories, my interest in him is not merely sexual.
I crave for him in an intimate way…And I never felt this  before.
I have the feeling he knows me in a way no one knows me.
During our third date, he asked me: ‘Are you afraid to love?’
I startled… How does he know? Why does he want to know that anyway?
Why didn’t I say he was a frank, ignorant person?
He’s so tender and also very strange…
He calls up emotions in me that I don’t even like to show to someone.

And there is another strange thing I noticed during our meetings.
I don’t think I can have sex with him…
My body screams for more, but my mind screams…No!
Strange as it is, I can have sex with everyone (so to speak), except with the man I long for. We had passionate moments together, but intercourse didn’t happen so far. These moments are so intense for me it almost hurts…. And I wonder if it’s a good idea. For him also. Something has happened in the past. I don’t have a sixth sense, but I see that. In his eyes…. there is something we share….and I don’t know what…
Will I ever find out? Will I ever find myself out?

Prostitution and depression – a causal relationship?

Dear readers,

It is my belief that ‘the happy hooker’ does not exist.
Even in my case, while I enjoy the job, I won’t say I’m a very happy person.
Sadness and powerlessness are feelings that are common for me.
Prostitution is associated and linked with negative emotions, and in the worst case, depression.
I agree, partly. Most prostitutes I (virtually) met, are familiar with negative with stress, negativity, and depression.
All sex workers, whether being street prostitutes or high-class courtesans,
whether having positive attitudes towards the profession or not,
are ‘united’ by these feelings, from time to time.

However, is prostitution a direct cause of depression, and negative feelings?
My personal answer: Yes, it could be.
And no, it doesn’t have to be a direct cause.
Prostitution is mostly seen by mainstream society as a direct cause of depression.
My personal question is; What if there were other variables that plays a role?
Why does society mostly see a causal relation, and not a correlational relation?
As if prostitution is the only factor…

Let’s say more about depression:
There are many different theories to approach depression.
I’ll give you a two definitions.
1. The diathesis-stress model: This model suggests that people who suffer from depression were already prone to depression, because of predispositions (and events that happened in the past, or are happening at the moment)
Plus, there has to be a stressful event that provokes depression.
2. The cognitive theory and the cognitive triad: this model suggests that the vulnerability to depression lies in cognitive schemes.
And these cognitive schemes can influence you in 3 different areas, the cognitive triad: Yourself, your view on the world, on your view on the future.

What does these theories have to do with prostitution, for god’s sake?
Well, a lot.
I’ll add another important factor related to depression, stress.
Stress is the subjective feeling, where a person feels overwhelmed by events he or she can’t control.
A factor that increases stress is emotion inhibition; suppressing one’s feelings.
Suppressing one’s feelings takes mental and physical toll, and can cause a general decrease in positive emotions and feelings.

possible causes of stress:
Major life events:
These events will cause you to make great adaptions in life.
Daily hassles: a chronic and primary source of stress.

A very effective solutions for stress is disclosure:
People who have stress at work, will want to cry out their daily troubles.
If one succeed in doing this in a polite and non-agressive way, he or she will notice a decrease in stress level.
And humor: If you had a bad day at work, someone will to cheer you up by making jokes, mostly about your job.
And problem-focused coping: Someone can behave and think about how to find solutions for problems, sometimes deap-seated, sometimes trivial.

A possible relation between stress an depression can be:
Stress can result in a person having lots of negative feelings, such as tiredness, helplessness, and feeling constantly overwhelmed by situatios he/she can’t have controll over.
All this negativity makes a person vulnerable, and few bad things have to happen to drag a person into depression (reference to Diathesis-stress model).
What’s more? Negative feelings influence the way you perceive things, such as yourself, the world and the future (reference to the cognitive theory).
Your self-esteem will decrease, and your view on the world and the future will be utterly pessimistic.

Now, coming to my point.

The link with prostitution.
I’ll first look at the sources of stress:

Major life events: by making the decision of entering prostitution (or in the worst case, to be forced in prostituion) , you are forced to introduce great adaption.    F.ex. Think of having a hidden agenda, you suddenly having to be careful of what you say.
And maybe the worst effect. You will not be able to have stable relationships anymore, (except if you have the chance to find someone acceptive, and still then it will be difficult)
Daily hassles: Arranging appointments, worrying about condoms and appearance, always moving to other places, worrying about std’s,  to make sure you’re not getting caught, to always do things in a sneaky way, to always be confronted with the mainstream image of sex work…. etc…
One must be VERY immune to stres…

Stress is the outcome of situations you can’t handle and can’t control.
You can’t always trust your clients, plus if he attacks you, you are defenceless, as a woman.
Now, let’s have a broader look.
Sex workers can’t control the situation they’re in, because there are lots of other external factors (besides the client).
-The stigma: prostitutes can’t erase the whole stigma surrounding prostitution.
Prostitutes who do speak out in behalf of themself and other sex workers are often ridiculed and not taken seriously, and even criminalized (for supporting prostitution), except if she says the things everyone wants to hear her say:
I’m trafficked, I’m a victim of abuse, I’m forced to prostitute myself.
But then she won’t be taken seriously either.
She will always be… a prostitute.
– Criminalization: prostitutes can’t better the situation, because most people are unwilling to help them. One, because they feel contempt, or two, because they are afraid to be criminalized themselves.
Plus, the state governments and the police, who are actually supposed to care for ALL its people, criminalize and arrest prostitutes and clients.
And not because they do care…..
Don’t make me (or us) laugh. If they did, they would have been willing to listen to individual concerns. Taking condoms from prostitutes and then arrest them is not a sign of helpful behaviour. (Happens mostly in states were prostitution is completely ‘banned’).

Now, talking about depression.
Due to stress, the person is heavenly influenced by negative feelings.
If something bad happens, (I client ripping of the condom, being arrested, being excluded), it can actually tear down someone, emotionally and physically.

Depression is the outcome of how you apply cognitive schemes on daily events, on how you see yourself, and how you see the world, and how you see the future.
Now, mind how these schemes are already influenced by lots of negativity.
I noticed from many blogging sex workers, that the negative self-image is not a direct cause of prostitution per se.
No, it’s a cause of how society sees sex workers.
‘Sex workers are poor, sex workers are addicted, sex workers have low or no self-esteem.’ Imagine if someone’s telling you every day that you’re degrading yourself, and that you have low self-esteem, and that you’re probably addicted to all kinds of substances. You’re going to believe this, at the end.
How you see the world: Hmm, as cruel, excluding, and not caring for the marginalize populations, only caring about the ones who fulfill the norm?
Because that’s what happens to most sex workers.
They’re not see as acceptable citizens, as people who actually CAN contribute and do good for society.
The future: not very positive either.
Due to stigma, sex workers are forced to stagnate in the job. I do believe many sex workers are able to develop oneself, inside the profession, IF they had the chance.
Prostitution is not a profession that can be performed by everyone, in my opinion.
But the ones who are suitable, are not given any fair chance to develop, for they are discouraged by mainstream society, the explicit and implicit criminalization and discrimination, under the guise of morality, and ‘saving’ prostitutes.

Depression is a long-term outcome of stress.
So, to see it very simple…..
If sex workers had the chance to diminish the stress, by disclosure, and by humor, and by problem-focused solving, they would be less prone to fall in depression.
But none of these solutions is plausible, and most of the time, not possible, if one is a sex worker (except if you have a VERY acceptive environment and people around you.).
Imagine your disclosure: ‘Pfft, I had a very annoying client today. He was trying to bargain the price! But I finally succeeded to send him away!’
The reaction isn’t likely to be positive.
Most people won’t say: ‘Wow, that’s well done, you’re a very assertive person!’
No, they will rather say: ‘Well, that happens when you’re a prostitute’
Yes, it’s the sex workers’ fault.
Plus, humor? You can think of funny things, f.ex. how awkward and shy a client was, but you will NOT be able to share it, and laugh with it both.
(except if your talking partner is a fellow prostitute, maybe).
Problem-focus coping: Of course we want to solve our problems! But the means for solving our problems are often out of reach. We want to seek help if someone (a client, or any other person) ill-treated us. But we’re not taken seriously, or we get arrested even.
We want to go to the doctor and have regular checks, without having constant feelings of shame and fear this doctor will look at you as a completely self-degraded person.

Hmm, I think this is it, by now.
Based on the data I found, and stated above, it’s not always prostitution that causes depression and stress, it’s society’ view and stigma on sex work.
And by blaming sex workers for engaging in prostitution, to see them as helpless and marginalized peopled will make it worse.
Don’t mentioning putting restrictions on sex workers’ freedom, and criminalizing them.

And another conclusion I made before, and now coming to mind is:
Prostitutes don’t dehumanize themselves, it’s society that’s dehumanizes these people.

A third conclusion I make:
While reading other stories, I noticed that there is simply NO regulation that benefits sex workers.
So, the most logical (but by the mainstream audience, not acceptable) solution is:
Stay out of a business you don’t want to know! Stay out of a business you weren’t in before!
None of your ‘help’ will actually improve our well-being!
If you want to help by any means, listen to the prostitute, instead of listening to the societal and cultural norms. Listen to many prostitutes, instead of one!

Well readers, that’s my article for today, I hope you enjoy it.
I put my efforts in it, so I hope you like it and that you’ll share your opinions.

An exhausting relationship.

Dear readers,

The choice of becoming a prostitute is the result of certain feelings we have, certain experience we’ve gone through, and certain people we’ve met.
That doesn’t always imply negativity.
In my case, there have been negative and positive events in my life, that influenced me in taking my decision.
And one, not so positive event, is the relationship with a former ‘boyfriend’.
Yes, I’m talking about a ‘boyfriend’, because I’ve never experienced real love for a man. I only fell in love with the sex.
And that’s where the story begins.
I was a cute, horny 16-years old teenage girl. And I started to notice everyone had a boyfriend, and everyone was having sex (a false assumption of course).
And I started to feel desperate.
So I went looking for someone in place you should NEVER look for a boyfriend, or a lover, the Internet.
Eventually, someone was interested in me.
Mind that he was Indian, was raised Indian, and that he was born in the same city where they have found me (I don’t even know if I’m really born there).
So I was immediately interested.
Plus, he was a fair-skinned Indian man who liked dark-skinned Indian women ( he genuinely did, because his former wife were dark too.) I was happily surprised, because I thought Indian men were only attracted to fair-skinned women.
(I didn’t know about the fair-skin craze, until I started watching Bollywood movies)
Imagine, I felt quite ‘chosen’.
Finally we met. We met a few times in public places, such as restaurants……
And then we had sex. It was my first time, and it was very painful!.
He didn’t even mind giving me a foreplay…. 😦
I felt sore after the sex, and the next day, I felt my intimate parts burning!
I tought: ‘I never going to have sex again!
But then we met a second time.
And the sex was heavenly. I screamed and groaned from pleasure.
I started longing for more….sex.
Yes, purely sex, not his intimacy.
One, because he wasn’t that intimate, and two…. I eventually didn’t like him.
His negative characteristics outweighed the positive.
Negative, because he had no knowledge about women, was narcissistic and self-centered. And he was always bragging about his money.
Positive, because he was a caring and loving father to his young son.
Oh yes, and there was another problem.
He was way older than me, so we didn’t have a lot of chance to see eachother.
I always had to sneak out, and lie to my parents, to be with him.
And he never understood why it made me upset, all the lying.
He thought it was self-evident, that I suited myself to his wishes.
I realized way too late I didn’t love him, and that I only loved to have sex, and to feel some caressing.
And that makes one vulnerable, if one can’t get pleasure from other sources (except from porn).
So it happened we kept seeing eachother, and things became worse.
Unfortunately, he didn’t want to use a condom ( he only used it during the first time sex), because ‘he loved me and I could trust him’.
But at the same time he bragged about all these women he slept with…without protection.
I worried about my health and his, so I asked if he wasn’t worried getting a disease.
He replied: ‘I did an Aids-test once (probably years ago), and I only fuck fresh girls.’
yeah right.
I worried about my health, and I started to feel contempt. He disgusted me.
And still… I kept seeing him, because of the sex.
And after a while, I didn’t find it satisfactory, anymore.
But what kept me from leaving him?
My need to feel desired, my conviction that he possibly loved me, his caring behaviour towards his son?
Anyway, I was stupid and foolish.
Besides, he started accusing me of being cruel and cold, and that I slept with other boys. He was extremely paranoid and jealous.
We often had these fights through online chatting, because we didn’t see eachother a lot.
And being angry + chatting= very bad outcome.
Through mail you can say things that are utterly cruel and offensive, because you don’t have to look in the eyes. And I wasn’t the most well-behaved person, either.
I was good in fighting with words. The problem is, you hurt eachother more than you want to.
And yet… we kept seeing each other.
And we had sex…. again. There was no eroticism left, just sex.
I didn’t enjoy it.
During our last meeting, I cried, out of misery.
Because I hurt my parents so much (I totally lost their trust), and the man laying next to me didn’t understand me at all.
But…. I didn’t think he was a bad person per se.
He loved his son, and he must have loved his former wife too, for he spoke about her with respect.
On the other hand,
He didn’t have knowledge about women and women’s sexuality, even though he was twice as old as me. He didn’t understand why I didn’t subject to his will.
He didn’t understand what was wrong with his way of living.
So, during our last meeting I cried big. My whole body was shaking.
He asked me why, but I didn’t want to answer. I just wanted to cry.
He said: ‘You don’t love me anymore, isn’t it?’
And that was true, actually I never really loved him.
But I didn’t answer, I just cried. I wanted to go home….
Two days later, I decided to break all contact, through mail.
I know, this isn’t the best way. But that was the only way possible.
He lived far from me, so I couldn’t just go there, and tell him it’s all over.
So, I decided to send a very honest and decent e-mail, explaining all my feelings, and why I want to break up…
His reactions were abominable.
While I tried hard to explain my feelings and expressing my honesty,
he didn’t try to understand me.
On the contrary, he started ‘yelling’ through mail.
He accused my of being cruel, being a liar, being cold… And being a filthy whore.
And I replied, expecting he wouldn’t believe me anyway, how hard I tried to make him believe differently: ‘Yes, I am. And I’ rather want to be every man’s whore, than your girlfriend.’
Relationship was finished, after two years.
This whole story may sound abusive to, but it isn’t per definition.
-This man was socially awkward towards women.
-He was paranoid and jealous, because of his low self-esteem ( I’m sure he had)
-I didn’t love him, but he was convinced I did. I ‘used’ him for sex, to be frank.
-I should have been more honest with him. Like that, things wouldn’t have turned out so badly between us.
-The ‘abuse’ came from two directions; yes, I had my share too.
Whether this relationship concluded love or not, it eventually effected me.
I lost my image of a romantic relationship.
I don’t believe it when someone comes close to me (in the figurative way), and tells me he loves me.
And after this event, I became unwilling to form an intimate bond with a man, even though he had good intentions.
I started to have casual sex, with trivial men.
It was sex, nothing more. (and I always used protection)
Some even became my sex friends.
We didn’t expect more than sex.
No emotional baggage, not obligations, just raw, animalistic sex.
And the sex was good, most of the time.
And somehow, these ‘trivial’ men treated me better in bed, than my first ‘boyfriend’.
I learned to enjoy sex, really enjoying sex with a trustful person.
I didn’t love him, but there was great reciprocal trust.
And then, a thought entered my mind.
I’m not unattractive, I like sex, and have to earn money….
Why don’t I let them pay for it?
And that’s how I ‘ended up’ in prostitution. (although other factors played a role too)