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AWKWARD WORK Part 2 September 22, 2014

So there I was. Living in England. Living as a whore in England Helping my newest client, Ben out of his shoes Ben is 22, originally from Compton, and disabled. If you're reading this wondering 'how the fuck did u end up in this situation' You should know my previous post is part 1 of this crazy & true story. Finally after the awkward greeting- Ben and I are behind closed doors. Ever since I started escorting my personal favorite part is getting to know someone. Meeting someone who at first glance, you assume, have nothing in common with. It makes the sexual tension better, sex better, connection better; everything-better. Ben was involved in a hit & run when he was 16, leaving him in a wheelchair. He can walk but needs to have something for support and cant stand for too long. He's a big sweetheart, All he wants is to have someone to cuddle and kiss. It sucks because when I tell him, "The right girl wont care what you look like. She's out there" Etc.. I know that girls can be judgemental, materialistic, and shallow. I can only imagine how hard it must be, I like to think im not like those girls. That I can look beyond.. and I can, However commiting to that is another story. My commitments only for the hour and I want to make sure he gets the best damn hour money can buy. My goal is to give him some great spank bank material. *Full girlfriend experience *Variety of positions It's important with every client to make sure you give them this experience. Even though im a whore I don't kiss & tell on my clients and what happened sexually is between us. Orgasm achieved, we layed there naked, Ben began to cry. I panicked..thinking his crying was somehow my fault. He started apologizing, I held his hand "dont ever apologize babe" This young man had been through so much, He deserved an amazing hour with a sexy young american girl. When I see someone like Ben, I feel like i've done a good service. Is that fucked up to say? Giving him that amazing sexy experience makes me happy.. But just cause you in a wheel chair don't mean you get to go over the hour.. And the hour was up. He insisted on crawling to the front door, instead of walking. His chair was still at the door and I tried to help him on, but he once again insisted he was fine. God it must be exhausting having people constantly trying to assist you. I wasn't even aware I do it, It happens so fast-like instinct. I see him struggling and how if I moved his foot here he'd be more comfortable..and before I know im doing it. Once he was in his chair he said a quick goodbye and rolled away so quickly I closed and locked the front door and finally exclaimed, "Holy shit did that just happen?" Reality set in. That happened