Coral Hull: Prose: Work The Sex: So you want to see me as a victim of the world and of ...

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: WORK THE SEX
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So you want to see me as a victim of the world and of this industry? You have an inkling that I'm trying to fool myself into liking the work, perhaps because I have no other choice? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you bit by bit, but it's not working out like that. I'm fitter than I've ever been and my sensual confidence has increased. When Sharlena's first husband said, 'You're sitting on a gold mine down there and you don't know it,' he was right. When the tarts with the big hearts end up in tiny pieces in someone's car boot, it's not because they're victims or that they deserve to die, it's because they are whores. They are powerful and mysterious women who frighten men. They are mainly confident women at ease with their own sexuality. This can only be good for a world that is lonely. I do find that since starting this work, I've become frightened of revealing too much about myself. I think Jackie has the same problem. None of us know her real name, in the same way that you don't know ours. Nikita said, 'So you lead a double life.' 'No,' said Jackie, 'it's better than that. There is no me.'

I don't want to be soft but I guess I am. I really enjoy the job. I get lonely if I don't get any work. It is the money, but I also really love what I do. I enjoy the touch, the guys, the boys, the men, and I worry sometimes. But I'm probably worried about nothing. They say, 'What's a gorgeous woman like you want with a bloke like me?' We both know it's because they are paying. But they like the lies, so that's what I do. At the same time, I don't see any men as ugly, even the big, flabby, old, scrawny, disabled, hairy ones. Now don't get me wrong, I do require hygiene and a good temperament. Jackie reckons they should have flea rinse in the showers and distemper shots in the reception area. I don't go for any kinds of rashes, sores, skin conditions, flus and viruses, warts, bad breath etcetera. They can fix all that up before they come to see me, 'cause if they don't, the session ends before it begins, know what I'm sayin'?

Aside from that, I can basically fuck anything. I'm anybody's in twenty minutes, or as long as it takes to shower and put my make-up on. Well, I don't fuck the ones with the bad attitudes. I'm not going there. In a way I've had good practice before this. All my partners were ugly, so I don't judge men in that way. I never even knew how ugly they actually were, until everyone kept pointing it out to me. But I still couldn't see it most of the time. It was a real problem. The trouble was that they were ugly on the inside as well. They were so stingy or 'careful' that they saw me starve and tried to get money out of me when they could. These guys are different. Think about it. They touch me, they pay me as well, and they adore me. I prefer one hour or all-night bookings to half-hours. At least you get to know them a bit not to mention the extra cash. I like to touch a man all over his body and get close to him. No kissing though, 'cause they always try to put their tongue in and you can get Hep B, as the doctor at the sexual clinic told me. But I like the intimate thing, although I must say that I no longer like giving it away.

Goldie said that she has the best fuck with her lover, on the day that she's paid her weekly allowance. It really turns her on to get paid. The rest of the week the sex isn't so good. He only gets off when he's fucking her in his scuba diving suit or wearing goggles. That's how the old codger gets his rocks off. She's a little princess, a real lady from the castle and a great mum too. He's got these deep grey eyes and I can see how she likes him. That's her weakness, her attachment to him. He knows this. None of us are immune. Goldie is tough, but the other night she got hurt when he jumped up out of bed and went out into the backyard 'cause he couldn't sleep. He complained about her coughing all night. She had a tropical flu and was coughing it up. You'd think he could have got her some medicine or something, instead of just complaining about it. 'He's an operation's manager, Roxy,' she said, 'remember that word, an operation's manager.' As it turns out, he couldn't 'operate' on his own two feet, and nor could he 'manage' his personal life. To return his kindness she fed him rissoles with Pal dog food in them for dinner the next night.

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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