to be..or NOT to be (Should prostitution be legalised?)

Member Name: susansnow

Product:	Should prostitution be legalised?
Date:	18/09/02 (67 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: sexual desires met, money

Disadvantages: spread of disease, treated like a piece of meat

I have known hookers both the well paid ladies with sugar daddies and the street hookers that took any john they could to make a few bucks. The old " my wife doesn't suck me off" or "she always has a headache" could be due to the man's techniques at making love vs. just his desire to get it off roughly/quickly or indeed kinky! The woman may just be glad he's getting his jollies somewhere else. She may be puritanical and really not understand what the need for sexual gratification is. Legalise it and see if things change! There will always be mistresses( which is not a bad way to go) and there will always be a woman/man to give a quick hand job/ blow job / quickie before you have to go home! Sex has been here since the beginning of time..you can't change it...it would be nice to have the girl's go to clean rooms and seek free medical advice if necessary. here is a true experience:
an exerpt from Shoestring Walking on a thin White Line:
Brothers and sisters of the underground crew going to the nightclubs that hired the beauties for out of town guests, promises of comforts and any one could be bought for the right price. “No shit! I had to fuck this guy only when the ceiling fan went around twice! He’d bang on every other rotation…hey its money…” a high price dancer explained after one of her shows. I watched her routine in the smoke filled palace of fun.

The silver flask touched her lips as reverently as the Christian chalice of gold.
The Holy followers drinking blessed wine and swallowing sacred bread whispering, “Body of Christ; blood of Christ.” “Body of Christ; blood of Christ”
“Christ!” …her pulse is racing like a lover’s first touch on forbidden treasures.
Her shaking hand pops in the yellow pill, or is it blue to relax… relax...chill. “ha! Take a pill to chill!” light headed laughter flitters acr
oss her mind like a snake on the highway. The M.C. hushes the crowd as a mother might sooth her screaming child. The drum roll, the music starts to the rhythmic beat of bump and grinding blues.
One foot in front of the other she walks as if on a tightrope 20 stories high
her entrance is made toward the strobe lights of center stage.
She is the priestess in her pulpit. Kisses blown to the enchanted crowd and long fingers pulling them in. Undulating hips and pelvic thrusts are imitating smoky wanton desire just under the surface, ready to explode.
Faces in the crowd are blurred by endless nights of routine and work. Lace straps fall like the judges gavel in a court of law pulling order to the array of jurors. A moan in the front produces another twenty- dollar bill and her hands become his, roaming freely across what he can’t possess. Skiing along her mountains, reaching the peak of his desire, beads of sweat drip along the exposed perfection of her swinging flesh.
A hand thrusts one hundred dollars into the black net of perpetual motion and is obliged with a peek into the valley of woman.
War and money controlled by this mysterious world since time began.
Sanctimonious decisions crucifying the temple of womanhood that man had no desire to leave and is forever trying to get back into. With the determination of salmon killing themselves to swim to their breeding ground from which they came… to spawn…like man.
Burned as witches and stoned as whores woman has suffered for this contention. High prices paid for just a glimpse…just a touch…to become one again with this womb of mystique.
Decorated generals and street sweepers alike have tried to master this act. Music rang in her ears as she smiled and took control of the night. Gyrating wildly with the dance born to her ancestors of long ago. The priestesses, wenches, goddesses, wives, mistresses and sultry damsels working imagery bred in them.
Applause
and money are gathered in delight, like a child gathers flowers along the roadside to bring home to mommy, as she stretches her legs that are long and lean, against the brass stamen.
A broad smile dances across her golden face as young men drool “this…is a vagina,” she whispers to crimson ears as she unfolds beautifully. Ceremoniously she stretches like a ballerina pirouetting across the stage to applauds and calls that would befit a Broadway play, turning graciously she whispers “peace in your valley; erections at dawn.”

Summary: