escort diary® of Ari Latina: The oldest job in the world. xxx
I never thought I’d end up doing the oldest job in the world. From the very beginning, I didn’t see it as shameful on the contrary, I admired it. To me, it always looked glamorous, exotic, deeply erotic. I imagined small, wet G-strings clinging to my skin, nipples hard beneath barely-there fabric, perfume mixing with sweat. I pictured men’s eyes traveling over every curve, their desire thick in the air. The world called it scandal, but to me, it was irresistible.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the weight of judgment. Not mine, but society’s. I wondered how hard it must be for a woman to play this game—to bare her body and soul while people whispered. Yet even in those whispers, I sensed hunger. A stranger’s glance would linger on me, lips parting with anticipation. The shame people projected was nothing but their own craving, their own aching need to feel the heat I carried between my thighs.
When I finally stepped into it, I learned it wasn’t only about lust. It was about company. About connection. About giving someone the sweetness of being touched, kissed, fucked like they were the only person in the world. But it was more than that too. It was the desire to talk, to share our deepest thoughts, to reveal secrets we wouldn’t tell anyone else. Because after touching every inch of each other’s bodies, exploring every corner, tracing every curve with our hands and tongues, after doing so many filthy, intense things together, we knew each other completely. And that’s why we could trust each other—not just with our bodies, but with our words, with our hearts.
I felt their bodies tremble under my fingertips, their breath quicken as my tongue traced their skin, their nipples glistening with desire, begging for more. Behind every fantasy, there was always a person wanting to feel alive both physically and emotionally as I rode them, moaning and breathing close to their ear, my body becoming their escape.
And the more I gave, the more I discovered in myself: desire, tenderness, power. My wetness was no longer mine alone it was a weapon, a gift, a mirror. Their moans became my symphony, their orgasms my secret triumph. What they call the oldest job isn’t only about pleasure yet it’s profoundly human.
It’s born from hunger for connection.
And that’s why it’s the oldest job in the world. Because people have always needed to connect, with their bodies, with their lips, with the wet heat of desire that makes us all human
Sinfully and holy
Ari x
