Professional W****
The bastard stench of milky thighs, spread for twenty dollars A rancid smell of cigarettes lingers from the men you've fondled A greasy film is left upon a golden pole that you've molested There's no shame in doing all the dirty things that he's requested You sit down on his fattened thighs and grind your infected hips, He offers you just fifty more to slip his fingers in your lips (You make me sick you sorry bitch, I have a kid to feed But getting cash by riding on a wrinkled cock is something else indeed You stumble in the door at four, high and drunk, but with no money When your kid wakes up in hopes for food, you say "I'm so sorry honey" You're laughing at the thought that you've become the most desired But as soon as you refuse to fuck your boss, your ass is fired! Fulfilling all his fantasies, like a dirty bitch in heat His wallets big, so if he asks, you'd drop down on your knees. Blowing coke by the $thousands up your nose to make some more ($$) But this is just another day in the life of a professional whoreIt's different..... do you love it? wink wink =op Written November 10th, 2001 © on Nov 10 2001 02:52 PM PST adult
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"The bastard stench of milky thighs, spread for twenty dollars..."