Yeah, I know that when people hear “whore,” they look at you with disgust.
They judge you, they despise you, they think you’re pathetic, that you have no other option, that you’re poor in spirit.
But I don’t care.
I’ve never been freer than since I started getting fucked for money.
Some say it’s humiliating.
No, what’s humiliating is sitting at a desk with your boss nagging you for eight hours and not even touching you.
Here, at least they do it wholeheartedly and everyone leaves with a smile on their face.
Me too. Sometimes even more so.
I love it when shy clients come in and after five minutes their legs are shaking.
I fuck them with my mind before I fuck them with my pussy.
I tell them exactly what they want to hear, what their wives haven’t told them in ten years.
I love it when I slowly undress and see their faces change.
How they forget everything.
Work, children, worries, everything.
It’s just them and me. And their cock. And my pussy.
Simple.
There are days when I have 5, 6, 7 clients, and instead of being exhausted, I feel more alive than ever.
It’s like my batteries are recharging.
Every fuck is different.
Some want me to be gentle, others want me to be nasty.
Some want me to caress them, others want me to spit on them.
And I do everything. And I do it with a smile on my face.
Because I like it. Because I can. Because I’m good at it.
I didn’t finish school. I don’t have a driver’s license. I don’t have a diploma.
But I have my pussy and I have guts.
And with those two things, I make more money than half the city.
Sometimes I wonder: if I had been born differently, would I have wanted a normal life?
And the answer is clear: NO.
I am made for this.
For the street, for the window, for fucking, for sweat and moans and crumpled banknotes.
This is my theater.
This is my job.
This is my life.
And yes, I like it.\
And you know what?
Maybe I’ll die young, maybe I won’t.
Maybe my knees will give out, maybe my breasts will sag, but at least I’ll know that I lived the way I wanted to.
Without shame, without excuses.
With my legs spread and my heart closed.
Just the way I like it.
Eu sunt curva si imi place, ai inteles?
Ba, eu stiu ca lumea cand aude „curva” se uita urat.
Te judeca, te dispretuiesc, cred ca esti vai de pula ta, ca n-ai alta optiune, ca esti saraca cu duhul.
Dar mie nu-mi pasa.
Nu am fost niciodata mai libera decat de cand m-am lasat fututa pe bani.
Unii zic ca e umilitor.
Ba, umilitor e sa stai la un birou cu sefu’ care te freaca la cap opt ore si nici macar nu te atinge.
Aici, macar o fac din toata inima si pleaca toti cu zambetul pe buze.
Si eu la fel. Uneori chiar mai tare.
Imi place cand vin clienti timizi si dupa 5 minute le tremura picioarele.
Ii fut cu mintea inainte sa-i fut cu pizda.
Le spun exact ce vor sa auda, ce n-a avut nevasta sa le zica in 10 ani.
Imi place cand ma dezbrac incet si vad cum li se schimba fata.
Cum uita tot.
Munca, copii, griji, tot.
Raman doar ei si eu. Si pula lor. Si pizda mea.
Simplu.
Sunt zile cand am 5, 6, 7 clienti si in loc sa fiu moarta de oboseala, sunt mai vie ca niciodata.
Parca mi se incarca bateriile.
Fiecare futere e altfel.
Unii ma vor blanda, altii vor sa fiu ticaloasa.
Unii vor sa-i mangai, altii vor sa-i scuip.
Si eu fac tot. Si le fac cu zambetul pe buze.
Ca imi place. Ca pot. Ca sunt buna la asta.
N-am terminat nicio scoala. N-am carnet. N-am diploma.
Dar am pizda si am tupeu.
Si cu astea doua fac mai multi bani decat jumatate din oras.
Ma intreb uneori: daca m-as fi nascut altfel, as fi vrut o viata normala?
Si raspunsul e clar: NU.
Eu sunt facuta pentru asta.
Pentru strada, pentru vitrina, pentru futut, pentru transpiratie si gemete si bancnote mototolite.
Asta e teatrul meu.
Asta e jobul meu.
Asta e viata mea.
Si da, imi place.
Si stii ce?
Poate o sa mor tanara, poate nu.
Poate o sa ma lase genunchii, poate o sa-mi cada tatele, dar macar o sa stiu ca am trait cum am vrut.
Fara rusine, fara scuze.
Cu picioarele deschise si inima inchisa.
Asa cum imi place mie.