escorts outcall (callgirls) in rionegro in english

August 16, 2023

Escorts, Prepagos, Putas, Dama de Compañia

What makes me angry about...men who visit <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> And this is precisely what a woman like her cannot bear from the male gender. To whom the glove falls...   For an individual, a man, to go to the <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a>, for me it is not a moral inconvenience: there are more indecent lands than a worn-out seat. The problem, in my case, is different. It is the desire. Guys who constantly exchange money for sex don't shake my ass. They are, to begin with, unoriginal. Going to find a whore's body is almost like going to Disney; place where everyone was; it is a false paradise that you already know how they are, even if you have never been there. At Disney everything is artificial, fake and plastic, just like in the <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a>' bed, where there is a string of horny imitations ("mmm", "ahhh", "mmmjuuu") and the smell of room deodorant. But my annoyance, let it be clear, is not them: theirs is a function, a job and enough sentimentality: for most of these women and some men, it is a dog's work. The drawback is in the men who ask them. I am not judging, I do not issue moral judgments, I insist. It's just that they don't move me one bit. There is not even one condition of a whoring male that is attractive to me: or they are very ugly. Or they are very old. Or they are simply lost. Or they got annoyed with his wife. Or his wife got tired of them. Or they had a bad day and want to bend someone's knee. Or they simply need to lighten up, a more spurious variant of the toilet. In any case, they are usually types without curiosity about anything. And without wanting to conceive anything. Men who are looking for <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> do not want to spend more, nor do they want to spend more money than necessary. You don't have to buy <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> food, the theater, the return vehicle. And, above all things, you shouldn't listen to them immediately after sex: they wash up, get dressed and leave. They don't do interrogations. They don't say "we need to talk" or hug anyone's chest while they murmur "Imagine what a child of ours would be like...?". <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">Whores</a>, and that makes them so memorable, struggle to make men enjoy effortless sex. Good for them, then. But the opportune bother me. Not to discuss, of course, the money factor. An old friend, who is already engaged, and in his youth he had talks like this:   -How much?   —Ten, includes oral and vaginal.   —No, ten for everything, also anal.   —Anal, thirteen.   —Well, thirteen, but you suck me without a condom.   —For you without a condom, I'll leave it at fifteen.   It's good: let's not leave anything to chance. My husband tells me not to make confusing contracts, although I hope he wasn't thinking about spending it with <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> when he told me to. I can't stop thinking about which of any of the lines of that dialogue invites the sexual appetite, the desire. Because it's one thing to persuade your lady that she's more of a bitch. But another is to pay a young woman because she is a whore or—worse—enter into haggling.   <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">Whores</a> existed before and whoremongers as well. The Greeks, for example, established a model of a beautiful, enlightened and exotic whore. They were called hetairas (which in Greek means "consorts"). They had a neat education and some had status: two assets that, in the East, were also grazed by geishas, ladies tied to arts such as dance, painting or the tea ceremonial. These <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> posed an eroticism of separate powers: it was by no means clear who, the woman or the man, was the stronger. And that was the beauty of the matter. But now most of the girls open their legs when they have no other choice. Nothing of free choice: the satisfied whore is an invention of porn and what remains, in context, on each of the subjected mattresses, is a thread of semen and an impression of dissimilar dignities. Guys no longer go with <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> to enjoy themselves and have tea: they spend to expose how strong they are, and there is no weaker man than the one who needs to expose the opposite. That's why, I mean, she said, whoremongers don't turn me on. Also, of course, the most irreparable issue: the man who goes with <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> is giving me, for clarification, the place of martyr. And I, who every once in a while dream of being a whore but I'm a journalist, I can't make it. Don't repeat <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a> It usually happens at school buddy reunions. With their breath up, someone plans to go to the <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a>. Someone else always comes out saying that they are aware of an amazing site, expensive, but staffed by 'pure models'. They take a taxi. They try not to be ignorant, but the taxi driver for knowing where they are going, the fare is double. At the gate, there is a concierge, who looks at you with a scrutinizing look and collects the cover and says "from the start because there is a 'little lesbian show', and today, because it is you, thanks to the generosity of the owner," he reminds them — the entrance is at 50%”. The dance of the millions was beginning.   Without consent and before sitting on a sofa in the shape of a "U", applause is heard, the kind that only pimps know how to give, 'the girls' arrive. They are the ones who choose the clients, it is not, on the contrary. They all use 'artistic' pseudonyms in English like Marylyn, Briggite, Britany. You sit with—say—Jennifer. She is studying day nursing at a well-known institute in the city, so she is not bothered by anything, she says, that she is used to dealing with difficult situations. It's a relief to know. One states that she is a very important guy. On some impulse, the gathering continually takes a shift toward the offspring, a bad idea. It would have been better not to know that Jénnifer is a single mother and head of the household and that she has a son in Ibagué, for example… and that he is starting primary school and is cared for by his grandmother. She is requesting a fee for the purchase of the list of supplies: 15,000 pesos is usually a standard rate. This is not what he came for, but how to shut down the band with a child. Without managing to murmur, 'the girls' request that it is time to order the drink. In the absence of a good whiskey like a Gordon & MacPhail Scotch or a Highland Park, the Chivas will be too expensive. They don't drink brandy. Not that they were <a href="https://lacelestina.co/en">whores</a>.   The 300,000 pesos that a half bottle of whiskey costs does not compare with its enigmatically cloying flavor of syrup for my granny's flu. Anyone asks the waiter to examine the drink, it doesn't taste normal and the boys, making jokes, begin to raffle off a labrador retriever for the blind with the lid. She takes the bottle, surely adds more Jarabito and returns with the drink: she pours a few whiskey sparks into a glass saturated with ice that has a napkin that hides something horrible like a rancher's towel in a sauna. Jennifer, on the contrary, offers a drink to the 'girls' outside our table; I think that in fact, she is taking it in her bag to caress her mommy who has lumbago, or so she says: who is going to be the insensitive monster that dares to deny her.   And it is not missing that in her talk, Jair emerges from her, her boyfriend-husband suspicious of her, but he takes her to the workplace, who was kicked out of her job for being corrupt: "My God, did they kick him out for being corrupt?" —Yes, it's that he is repeatedly guachecito, my love…. Sometimes he lifted me up. And I once stabbed him with a knife; I assure you that the fucking demon pushed my hand... The doctor told me that I screwed up to hit his artery by millimeters.   Jair, a guy with a chevete, places gas pipes without removing the gas, an individual who spends vacations on the border with Venezuela. Jennifer, pushing a razor aided by the devil. The nascent excitement that one carried has not only died; the unfortunate organ, brought to this purpose at the point of offers and promises, is stunned and camouflaged. At that moment, Jénnifer, who now claims to be familiar, reveals that her real name is Leonilde and that her varicose veins are killing her.   —Oh, daddy, a friend of mine managed to pull them out by the foot… so impressive, like those disgusting worms that get into people in Africa…. Perhaps the condition will become permanent disability. Just when they begin to reflect with dignity on the possibilities of wasting the money from the drink and going home, (Jenifer) Leonilde starts asking them to walk to the room. With her expressions it is said “to make a little reserve”. There is no way to let go, her nails are stuck in the muscle of the arm. The first use of the ejection seats of the F16 fighter planes, was on the ground for matters like these; an ejection button, it is not interesting to destroy a leg, that the bones are compressed by the pressure.   But no, there is no way out. The thing was our own fault, for providing sensitive things. One is not a consumer of their services like all the others; one came to establish a 'human' relationship. He wants to take her to bed out of love, affection... and of course, the one she seduces doesn't pay. But she is a whore, an expert in twisting pious purposes until turning them into 15,000 pesos. In the "little reserve" her only sexual contact consists of rubbing Leonilde's varicose veins, with what could be close to 200,000 pesos in syrup from Grandma Robitussin.   Late at dawn, there is nothing left but to return to a house flooded with household sounds that season the guilt: the pressure cooker, the telephone, spent thinking about Leonilde and syrup... but honest and chaste. The wife releases that look of vilification. It would have been less insulting to bring Leonilde and for her to cook him some breakfast, perhaps a rib broth, but how can I explain to her that what I've been doing is a charity, like attending the Dinner of the Million, and giving the father a fee for a poor man's social interest house? With the insurmountable discrepancy that the main dish was a nosy hog stew: one.