I Hate Being Fondled
I am fed up with your saying that you don’t care about doing any housework when I’m out there having sex for money for you.
I can’t explain how it feels to be used for someone’s pleasure as an income source.
I may not be manually lifting many pounds a day but it’s extremely hard to repeat what customers want me to say to get them going. I hate being fondled. I hate being commented on how creamy I am inside when I’ve been trying to make these encounters in the least painful way possible by imagining that I’m with the love of my life.
I worked in retail and in restaurants before for you.
You take my money without acknowledging my effort.
You don’t sympathize with how many men I let have their way with me so I can get you better brand products.
I am disgusted by you.
I keep, keep, keep trying to improve our lives and you, as a so-called man, don’t initiate helping me.
My days are rough, sad and mostly change in a negative way.
Your life looks the same, parked in your seat in front of your computer screen, keeping yourself away from the world; though you think you are great and more intelligent than anyone out there, you’ve never gone out to assert the case that you are what you claim you are. You hide behind…
