Way back a dozen years ago or slightly more.
Does anyone remember Wendy, Wilkens, who used to flash her big nipples at you when she first jumped in your monger rig. Or Sandy, the hard luck sort, blonde spinner, who insisted she worked for the Parks and Rec, and had a City Paper interview. Wendy would try to rip you off and when confronted would try to make it up to you. Sandy was game. Then there was a Cindy, Bat Shit Crazy, blonde, I used to take her for over-nights in the County. And you think the SW's now are different? Too funny.
Cindy was incredibly submissive and sweet, a great loss at an early age
[QUOTE=Piddybo;2640542]Since we are reminiscing, another one was Cindy. Dirty blonde with a thin spinner body. Worked at the Pussycat Club for awhile. A very submissive one who was great fun. Always said yes to anything and never any drama. Too much candy caused a huge abscess in her leg which leg to many medical problems which eventually led to her demise.
R. I. P. Cindy.[/QUOTE]Poor slender sweet little submissive Cindy. Last name was colorless, if you catch my drift. She was 100% accommodating of all requests, and her body inspired a broad variety of desires. But beyond her youth and prettiness, the destruction of both being, in parallel, a function of street life and a preamble to this observation, what could tear out any decent person's heart was sitting across from her over a meal and listening to the litany of real life abuses she had suffered. There wasn't an ounce of untruth to what she had to say -- she was given to neither hyperbole nor dishonesty, because she was as ingenuous as they come. Not a stupid girl, just a simple one. I've known scores (well, hundreds, really) of these girls, known them well, and Cindy's story was one of the saddest, even as she was one of the sweetest of girls. She deserved a proper life, and, absent the drugs, would have made a fine wife and mother.
Guys, you should always keep in mind that even the most hardscrabble of these women are human beings; I know that most of us function within this framework, and understand that the transaction isn't about some simple fungible good, but about a commodity that comes to us cobbled with a soul and very human needs, weaknesses, and virtues. It pains me, for example, when this or that poster characterizes "Kandii" as slow or retarded or witless, when many of us, certainly the ones who are privy to her real name, know quite well that she is bright, albeit unburdened by a conventional education, and that her spirit is lithe and light, so resilient that even to this moment she harbors aspirations which she will be troubled in attaining because her past will stalk her over all the rest of her years. Which, I hope, are many. For Cindy, there was no future. There were no more years, just a pitiful and painful handful. And more's the pity.