- My age:
- I am 33
- Eye tint:
- Huge gray-green eyes
- I'm female
- Body type:
- My figure features is slim
Sex trafficking in all forms has existed over the course of numerous centuries in history. The United Kingdom has recently revealed many child sex trafficking cases, with young Vietnamese immigrant girls being especially targeted. While it is difficult to discern the exact of victims, for most of the time the reported is ificantly lower than the actual due to underreporting.
It was one of those hot Saigonese evenings.
The story of a vietnamese prostitute
I was sitting in one of those depraved pubs of Bui Vien Street, having some beers with two Japanese fellow travelers, while watching the motley crowd rambling up and down the road. It was then when, all of a sudden, that cheery, young local girl darted out of the throng, and by the very next instant, had taken the liberty to occupy the vacant fourth chair around our table. What mainly impressed me about her person was her grit, frankness, and eagerness to speak openly about her situation.
So, finding that situation of hers intriguing, I urged her to narrate a great deal of her peculiar life story, which I here cite….
Like all other kids, I went to school every day and played games in the afternoons. I was boozing every single day throughout my teens. I became a proper alcoholic. Then I also lost my virginity, and I right away became equally addicted to sex as to alcohol.
I may have slept with half the male population of my hometown. I was finding them tormentingly dull, speaking only about stupid Korean movies and boy bands and stuff. I began hanging out with old gay guys. I looked up to them as sages. I was fascinated by their sense of freedom and their guts to disregard public opinion. That place was too narrow for me, too restricting for what I dreamed for my life. Furthermore, during the last few months of my stay there, my position Vietnamese sex stories incredibly unpleasant due to a problematic relationship I was in.
I loved him, but I could not do otherwise, as he was away most of the time.
He worked as a male prostitute, gay-for-trade, and had to go to the cities to find clients. I was waiting for my chance to leave him.
He introduced me to that girl he knew in Saigon, a few years older than me she was, and he asked her to host me in her apartment and help me start a new life. I moved to Saigon and stayed with her and her boyfriend for the first month. But the situation there was very intense for me.
He was a drug dealer, that dude. They were smoking meth the whole time, screaming and fighting like animals. It was very wild. I could not stand it anymore. So I ran away and endeavored to make a living on my own.
In my hometown, I had mostly known them from American movies. And then, in Saigon, I was suddenly surrounded by all those handsome tourists everywhere. But then, I found out that a great many of them were willing to pay me for sex instead. Those were the happiest days of my life. It felt like living in a dream. It was fun.
Big penises for vietnamese wife
My primary objective for sleeping with someone was my pleasure. The money was just what came along with it, a convenient side-effect, so to say. And unlike what girls here normally do, I was never asking for money before the act.
Nor was I asking afterwards, actually. But I was more than a mere prostitute. Look, the clients I usually picked were guys who, despite being handsome, had some serious confidence issues. Besides sex, they needed someone to talk to. We spent some quality chatting time together, and they appreciated that. I had my steady clients, who would come to the bars looking specifically for me. I could easily clear dollars a day, far more than the average girl earns. I stopped when I met my ex-boyfriend.
He was a year-old Englishman, a man of great intelligence and strong character. He taught me English. He taught me everything I know. He made me all I am. But I slept with him several times, anyway, because I liked him. But I never was with him for the money. Vietnamese sex stories loved him with all my heart. But that was just for my pocket money.
He was paying for everything, and we had lots of fun: drinking, dancing, traveling… He also bought me gifts all the time. We split up after I met my current husband… I fell in love with him at first sight when I saw him in a bar.
That same night, we slept together, and I right away knew where my heart belongs. My ex-boyfriend, I understood then, I did not love him; I admired and revered him, but I did not love him. The very next morning, I let him know of the situation and broke up with him.
We traveled around Vietnam and Southeast Asia for some months, and we got married. Now he is back home in Sweden. I hate Europe! I love Vietnam! I prefer a thousand times to stay here! But I sacrifice myself for the sake of love!
Well… of course, as a man, he pays for everything. Plus that I have a job of my own, anyway.
I aspire to chase after my dream in Europe eventually. But for the moment, my husband discourages me.
He is overprotective, sometimes, my sweetheart. I make some good money, doing nothing but what I like: dancing. The clients pay 5 dollars per minute.
I earn one, and the site gets the rest. I have my regular clientele. The story you've just read is a part of my "Real Stories of Real People" collection, wherein I narrate my encounters with various remarkable characters I've run into while traveling around the world. The entire collection is published on my blog and may be read here.
But if you'd like to get them with you to the beach in your ebook reader or as a physical book, and very appreciatedly support my creative activity, go ahead and grab your copy from Amazon for the cost of a cup of coffee. I am Dimi and this blog is my creativity's outlet. I here post a wide variety of content such as stories and photographs from my trips around the world, my thoughtsmy musicand more.
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