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How It’s Done: Last Words To An Ex

2 Aug

One
Dear “You”,

Now that you and I are no longer together and have been apart, we can now see things differently and clearer. Well, at least I can. So the purpose of this letter is to hopefully give you a through explanation and response to a text you recently messaged me.

It didn’t bother me when I had to call an ambulance because my boyfriend didn’t believe me, or take me to the hospital when I told him I was very sick and needed immediate attention. Instead, my only excuse for you is it’s very inhumane for someone to do such a thing. After all, most people would answer a cry of help from their worst enemy.
It also didn’t bother me that you told your mother lies about me, which she then inappropriately tried to bash me in the presence of a friend who arrived promptly for an appointment to get some of my things. (Thankfully my friend respectfully, and with class put your mother in the place she deserved) Instead, I excused your behavior as childish.

Nor did it bother me that you allowed me only 30 minutes to collect my things from the apartment the last time we saw one another so you could meet your rugby friends out for a few drinks. Instead, I excused it as inconsiderate.

It also didn’t bother me that you flew across the world to meet women from the internet, aside from texting a picture of your dick to six women and then penetrating it into nine other women, (that I know about) and then lying about it. Instead, I looked at that as immature.

Therefore, the above is only icing on the cake as to why I am unhappy about not being able to properly pack and remove my things from our apartment. Instead, your behavior is excused as irresponsible.

But what’s really inappropriate, inexcusable and very assholish of someone is when a person does the following:

• Does not properly pack one’s belongings which causes items to break.
• Packs things, and then stores it in a room that is not climate controlled so the candles that are in boxes can melt and ruin everything else inside.
• A person does not return everything another person owns. Instead of receiving a text or email that one did not return everything such as a lamp, table, chair, fan, kitchen items etc, the owner must recognize items are missing, contact that person, wait at their convenience and drive two hours to pick up their belongings. So, your last text which consisted of apologizing that “a few items” were missed is not excusable, especially since they were BIG items.

To the above, my only excuse for such behavior is downright disrespectful!

The biggest problem now is it has been three months and I STILL have not yet received all my things. For a week I wasn’t even given a courtesy reply until I re-contacted you. Instead, you pranced around in a green dress and drank with your rugby friends while hustling something that is hard for you to get now days. You were very capable of having the time to gather my things and return them but opted not too. This alone…..is NOT excusable.

Everything listed above is not, nor will this ever be deserving of a person, no matter what that person thinks they did while in the relationship. Instead, this behavior displays the utmost disrespect for someone and says “Fuck You”.

As a result, I am honored to have now disassociated myself with such a person who in the eye’s of society, strives NOT to mock such animal-like behavior. In the meantime, I will see you in a courtroom so get a lawyer. And I highly suggest a damn good one.

I Have Become The Woman I Said I Would NEVER Be!!

30 Mar

depressed
I promised myself I would never be “that” woman.

And today I am her.

Yesterday was a bad day. I was in a car accident, thankfully nobody was hurt. I guess my nerves got the best of me. I should have been paying attention to the road but instead I was thinking about the “other” women. The woman I found out about a month ago came to mind, followed by woman #2 and woman #3 who I discovered in the past three days.
When I returned home I was already distraught. My boyfriend was packing for a mini trip he told me about the night before, but little did he know what I knew.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport,” I asked?
“No, meeting my mother for lunch,” he replied.
“Want me to get you my carryon bag,” I said as he was picking out clothes from the closet?
“Yes, that would be great,” he responded.
I went to the laundry room, grabbed my carryon bag and handed it to him.
“Thanks sweetie,” he said as he was folding his clothes about to put it in the suitcase.

I started to walk away when I stopped. It disgusted me that he was wearing the button down shirt I hated the most. The shirt I had ironed the day he cheated on me with woman #1. I sighed in exhaustion, turned around and said:
“Oh baby, when you get to Washington D.C. tell Susan that’s my suitcase.”

I walked out the door with the shocked look on his face still in mind.

Then four hours later my nerves got the best of me yet again. This time I was walking and paid no attention to the car coming at towards me. Sorry but I couldn’t help but think he was with “her” at that moment. That’s when I was hit by the car, but thankfully not seriously injured.

You see, I’m not ENTIRELY stupid.
Friends and family told me to leave him after the first woman, but I didn’t. Instead I gave him a second chance. It was hard and more problems evolved. Then when I found out about women 2 and 3 I started to plan my escape.
It wasn’t until yesterday morning when I woke up, wide awake when I had a brilliant idea.

My boyfriend was still asleep when I grabbed his phone from the night table. Despite everything, I NEVER went through his phone. Shortly after I became lightheaded and dizzy.
I shouldn’t of been shocked but I was. There were even MORE women, not including the woman he had been talking to from the internet and was flying to meet yesterday for the first time. I couldn’t help but ask myself:

“How many more women are there?”

I am hurt, shaking, confused, disgusted and angry. BUT I still have my pride and dignity. That’s two things he didn’t take away from me.

Now going forward, when “that” woman enters my life, the woman I ridiculed for staying with the cheater, the woman I gave a dumbfounded look at when she said she wasn’t leaving the cheater, I will now smile, take her hand into mine and love her. That’s when I will tell my story and make a new friend.

Unexpected Betrayal

18 Mar

couple-arguing
I just woke up. Three hours sleep in the past two days is actually really good given what I discovered and the emotional roller-coaster I rode and still continue to ride.
I rubbed my head, it was pounding. My eyes hurt, they were puffy from crying. I cleared my throat, it was scratched and hoarse from all the yelling. More importantly, my heart….my heart….well….I don’t think I no longer have one as it’s now shattered.
I glanced around the apartment. There was glass everywhere and sentimental objects of mine were now broken, but I didn’t care. On the surface one might think the apartment which my boyfriend and I shared was ransacked and robbed. I only wish that was the reason for the disorder.
I glanced at my phone. I had received many texts from friends asking:
“Priscilla, I am worried. Are you okay?”
I appreciated their concern but it was now a topic I no longer wanted to discuss or think about. I now pleaded the heartbreaking flashbacks from the past two days would only disappear. I shook my head still in disbelief and shock despite the proof that proved otherwise. I laid my head back on my pillow, repositioned my back on the uncomfortable couch that I recently made my new bed and draped the blanket around my shivering body for comfort pretending it was a friend holding me to reassure everything would be okay.
My mind was still clouded by all the questions and emotions that I still pondered. I could ask myself again and again the questions I wanted answers to such as:
How?
Or
Why?
But instead of trying to make reasoning of everything, I had to face the truth…. and the facts.
I had to ask myself, “Priscilla what are you going to do?”
I didn’t yet have an answer. I still wasn’t thinking clearly. I pulled the blanket over my face, closed my eyes when the first tear fell, then another and another.
Now I know how it feels. So….. this is what it feels like when the one you love betrays you.
************
My boyfriend and I just finished hanging a heavy mirror in the entryway I brought two months ago when I moved in to “his” but now “our” residence. When I saw it hung steadily on the wall, I sighed and finally felt at home. We were both exhausted and hungry so we began to prepare dinner.
We were in the kitchen preparing fresh vegetables when my phone lit up, it was a text from my cousin. I responded when my boyfriend said “Stop texting your other boyfriends,” a phrase he used at least once a day. I laughed as usual and shook my head as we proceeded to cook.
He was frying meat and I was chopping lettuce for our taco dinner with our Maltese , Abby, (the new addition to “our” family) who was lurking at our feet searching for scraps when my boyfriend said:
“I meant to tell you the other day, my friend Kristen is best friends with your friend Tucker. What a small world,” he said with a chuckle.
“Who’s Kristen? Do I know her,” I asked casually?
“Don’t think so. It’s a chic I met on the dating site we met on. We went out once but NEVER slept together,” he said in addition to mentioning they were Facebook friends.
I was curious if I knew her since we had a mutual friend who I hadn’t talked to in six months. I pulled up my boyfriend’s friend list on Facebook and asked:
“Which one is she,” as there were four Kristen’s in his friend list?
He pointed to a specific woman with a profile picture of a landscape.
According to the picture and limited information on her page I couldn’t confirm if I knew her so I clicked the “add friend” button. I disregarded my phone on the counter and returned to my boyfriend to help cook dinner. A few minutes later my phone lit up and at a glance I noticed it was a notification she had accepted my friend request.
I skipped looking at her pictures and immediately started to message her when the messenger window revealed she was already typing to send me a message. I continued to type when I received her first message:
“You need to talk to your man, not me!”
I was a little taken back by this comment but didn’t read anything into it. Instead I replied:
“I did, Chris told me you guys met from the site and your best friends with my friend Tucker. I was wondering if I knew you,” giving a smiley face symbol at the end.
I put my phone back on the counter to finish chopping lettuce when she replied:
“Why did you send me a friend request?”
I felt slightly attacked and was unsure why. My boyfriend was beside me stirring meat with his ears plugged with ear phones listening to music when I wiped my hands, picked up my phone and said:
“If you’re a friend of Chris and Tucker then you’re a friend of mine.”
Seconds later she sent the following message:
“Again, why did you send me a friend request?”
I was still slightly confused. Why did I feel like I’m being interrogated?
I repeated my previous message to her question but this time I added:
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. If you don’t want me as your Facebook friend then unfriend me. Sorry for the bother.”
I laid my phone yet again on the counter about to walk to the refrigerator when she wrote back:
“Want to do lunch?”
What, I thought?
Now I started to have serious doubts about this woman. I scrolled up to reread the series of texts wondering if this woman was bipolar when I replied:
“I guess but I’m a little hesitant now lol.”
She quickly replied:
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Call me, Chris has my number.”
Instantly I knew I wasn’t going to ask Chris for her number as he would ask a lot of questions, questions that I didn’t know so instead I replied:
“He’s dozing off and not going to wake him,” I said lying. I ended the message with supplying her with my number.
Moments later she messaged:
“Chris just texted me.”
She gave her number and insisted I call. I announced I would after dinner.
For the next twenty minutes I was antsy and curious as I wondered if something had happened to our friend Tucker. I excused myself from my boyfriend and went to our sunroom to smoke when I pressed the send button on my phone to call the woman I had not yet met.
When she answered I couldn’t help but notice her tone of voice wasn’t as perky as mine and it sounded as if she had something serious to say, so I remained quiet and listened. There were several pauses in her voice before she proceeded to say:
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” It was then I learned when someone starts a conversation with this sentence it’s never good.
My eyes started to burn, the only thing that came to mind was Tucker had passed being the last time we spoke was when he learned he had cancer. I listened to her stumbling again when she told me what I had LEAST expected to hear. The more I heard the less I could see, followed by loss of hearing and an overwhelming numbness throughout my body. Finally she concluded with specific details, followed by sending me picture texts and a recording that supported her accusations.
I heard enough. I saw enough. I then entered a state of shock. She was still talking when I interrupted her and said:
“Let me leave and I will call you back.”
I pressed the end button on my phone before I waited for her to reply. I walked back into the apartment where my boyfriend was sitting on the couch watching TV. I went into the bedroom and grabbed my purse with one arm and scooped our dog in the other. Thankfully my car keys were visible on the dining room table instead of me searching for them as usual. I had no plan other than to quietly leave and not say a word. I knew if I opened my mouth I wouldn’t be able to control what I might say and thereafter. I was three-fourths from the front door when my boyfriend asked:
“Where are you going?”
Calmly, I turned around, looked my boyfriend in the eye trying to fight back tears when I said:
“Kristen told me everything. Don’t deny it, she showed me all the proof.”
I had no expectations as to how he would or should react, but this was the moment my heart shattered.
You see, he underestimated how well I knew and understood him including the meaning of all his facial expressions, laughs and awkward silence. It was at that moment, he didn’t have much to say, and in fact he was speechless. He didn’t have to explain, his face said it all. He was guilty. It was a look I will never forget and still haunts me to this day. I started to feel faintish when I excused myself from his presence and continued to walk towards the front door as I originally planned.
I knew I exited the gates of hell when the door slammed behind me broadcasting a loud echo throughout the hall but I didn’t take another step. I turned around, reentered the apartment, laid my purse on the foyer table, carefully placed my dog on the kitchen floor and charged towards my boyfriend who was still sitting on the couch.
This was when I blacked out.
I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure I said something like:
“You fucking cheating asshole. You bastard, I hate you and hope you go to hell.”
I don’t remember if he responded or the following order of events. It was then when I remembered grabbing my first object, the granite stone statue my father gave me when I was five-years old. It shattered when it flew across the room hitting our apartment window leaving a large crack. Next was the picture of my grandmother and me, taken just before she died. The window now had another but larger crack. I continued to throw candle holders, vases, bottles of wine, anything that was breakable and would break that fucking window.
I was on a mission.
Finally the academic award I received in college went flying. It hit the window, glass shattered and it bounced back two feet from where I was standing. I paused when a gust of wind and showered the apartment not noticing my right hand was covered in blood. (It’s not good when you live on the 31 floor on the corner of a skyscraper and your walls are all windows from ceiling to floor)
I took a deep breathe when I realized I was the big bad wolf who huffed and puffed and almost blew the apartment down and would have had I not taken a moment to breathe. I was shocked by my reaction and I’m sure my boyfriend was just as shocked from what he too just witnessed.
I continued to scream at him before charging again to the front door slamming it shut to call the “woman” he obviously wanted to be with. To avoid waking up neighbors and preventing my boyfriend from easderopping, I escaped to the stairway. I sat at the top of the stairs and called the woman who should be my enemy but was now my friend. We talked for the next hour, the more questions I asked and answers I received, the more things started to make sense. My phone began to beep that the battery was low so I ended the conversation with a promise to call the following morning.
I decided to retire from the stairway and turned the knob when I realized it was locked. I had never entered the stairway so I was unaware I needed my key fob to exit. I started to call my boyfriend to rescue me but no answer. For the next ten minutes I walked down 13 flights of stairs when I saw a door that was slightly open which was my sigh of relief for an exit. I approached the elevator, the doors opened, I entered and the doors closed behind me. I pressed the button to the 31st floor when I realized I didn’t have my fob to travel back up to my apartment. (We live in a very tight security building which contains three different keys for different access and I didn’t have any of them) I pressed the button pointing in opposite directions to open the elevator doors….. but they didn’t open.
It was 2:30AM Wednesday morning and the chances of a neighbor entering the elevator to leave or return home was very unlikely. Needless to say my only option was to press the red “Help” button on the elevator.
“Are you in trouble,” the operator asked?
“Yes the elevator won’t open,” I proclaimed.
For the next fifteen minutes I followed the operator’s instructions in hopes for the doors to open but no work.
“I am sending the police and fire department your way.”
I sighed heavily. I plopped on the elevator floor and rested my back against the doors. I grabbed my phone from my pocket which revealed three percent of battery.
I hesitated before I re-examined the evidence. It was hard but I persevered. I wanted to make sure my eyes were NOT playing tricks on me, but they weren’t as I hoped they were. The first picture text revealed itself.

IMG_5511

I sighed.
I scrolled to the second.

IMG_4787

My eyes began to water. I scrolled to the third.

IMG_1303

I closed my eyes when the first tear fell yet again.

I closed my eyes and shifted my thoughts back to earlier that day.
“I have a headache,” my boyfriend proclaimed to the sexual advances I was initiating, not including his distant behavior which shortly followed. I was aware he had a meeting with distributor at noon which was not unusual. However, I found it odd he got ready an hour before his so-called “meeting” when he usually waits till the last minute to dress. I now know his “distributor” was her. I couldn’t get her words out of my mind.
“We met for lunch today, that’s when he confessed he had a girlfriend.
“Damn Priscilla, what a fool you are. You couldn’t see the signs,” I asked myself?
Truth is now looking back, I still don’t think I would have…..he mastered the art of manipulation.
I glanced back at my phone to listen to the recording from their date earlier that day when my phone begun to power off. However, I remember the conversation percisely. Phrases such as:
“I don’t like her.”
and
“It will not last.”
and
“I don’t love her.”
It kept replaying in my mind as a broken tape recorder. What excuse does he have I thought?
It was then I really needed a tissue but my shirt was a substitute.
At the time I had nothing more to do but cry and think before I would be rescued. As a result I had plenty of time to ponder on what I would do next, but I was still confused despite the evidence that was very clear.
Then my thought process started to shift. What would I tell my best friend who would me the same story seeking advice?
Well….that was easy. I would give her a dumbfounded look if she even made an excuse to stay with such an asshole. And there I was….that woman who would be an idiot to those around her if she even considered staying.
I didn’t, nor do I want to be that woman.
The elevator doors opened. Police and fire personnel were standing before me. For a moment I thought about asking if they could rescue me from a broken heart. I was escorted to the floor of my apartment when I personally thanked the firefighter for his help when the elevator doors closed. I cautiously walked back to my apartment.
I briefly hesitated before turning the knob to my front door.
‘Priscilla, you have a huge decision to make,” I told myself.
I entered my apartment and the front door slammed behind me leaving another echo throughout the hallway.
The question is…..am I going to be “that” woman who accepts forgiveness OR will I be brave and persevere for a greater and brighter future?

Don’t Want Love? Ha….Neither Did I!!!

12 Feb
That Damn Thing Called Love

That Damn Thing Called Love

Initially this blog was about I, “DatingBitch” and my fucked up world in the dating scene. After dates with psycho police officers, flower stalkers, men comparing chicken with pussy, without hesitation I said “NO MORE!!!! I can’t take it!!!!”

I’m not saying it was the fault of the “opposite sex”, not at all. In fact, I was privileged to obtain an unwanted “dick gallery” of over 300 pictures that were sent voluntarily, NOT upon request so I can’t complain, but maybe, just maybe, on those dates I didn’t say or act like a potential future bride, or I didn’t carefully screen my candidates prior to us meeting. Whatever the reasoning might have been, it was an adventure in the dating scene that screamed the beginning of a new reality show on prime T.V.

Now I‘m not a relationship expert, nor do I have a degree in psychology, but if you desperately desire a relationship…then listen closely because I guarantee no matter the color of your hair, (including ginger’s) how many times you’ve been married or kids you have, if you have a job or collecting from the government, if you are disabled or less than intelligent, no matter what your flaws or disabilities maybe,”I”, the “DatingBitch” have the secret, the cure, the manual of love, whatever you may call it “I” can bring you the man or woman of your dreams with my new dating book that I have not yet written but titled “How to Find Your Soul Mate Whether You Want Them Or Not.”

If you DO NOT follow my rules carefully and thoroughly….your love life could take an unexpected turn.

So if you DO NOT AND truly want to have fun without any commitment which concludes a curfew, followed by jealousy, overwhelming demands, the old ball and chain then the non-existent sex the day after the honeymoon, or maybe you made a vow to yourself to stay away from the gender that fancies your romantic desires as I did, then I want to preserve your happiness and perhaps save your life by my two rules for unwanted love:

Rule 1. Whatever you do protect your identity by providing a false name and purchasing a prepaid phone so you cannot be found.
And/Or
Rule 2. Follow the advice of relationship expert Jenna Marbles who says, and I paraphrase:
If a man/woman approaches you with as much as a wink, flirts and makes an excuse to touch you, asks you on a date or whatever the reason may be, this is your cue to draw your hidden sword and attack revenge against the enemy by giving them the following look….

Exhibit A

Exhibit A

From what I hear, Tthe Look” has an extremely high success rate, but I wouldn’t know because I didn’t apply this cardinal rule. Again if you do NOT want a relationship, whatever you do, DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT make the following face as Jenna Marbles outlines:

DO NOT SMILE!!!

DO NOT SMILE!!!

If you do smile, as I did, the consequences could be severe!!!

Now if you are seeking your soul mate as I clearly WASN”T and want to fall in love as I clearly DIDN’T, do what I did:

Rule 1. Date as many people as you can. The objective is to become jaded as much as possible!
Rule 2. You must, without a doubt in your mind BELIEVE, “I DO NOT want to date!!! I DO NOT want to fall in love!!! I DO NOT want to get married!!! I just want to be ALONE!!!!!” Repetition is important. Tell yourself this throughout the day. Practice when getting ready in mornings, say out loud during traffic, the key is to feel, imagine and believe you do NOT want love or a relationship because unexpectedly…..

imagesCA14CWOF

Congradulations…..you are now in love and you may have found your soul mate. See, if you don’t apply “the look” by Jenna Marbles as shown in Exhibit A, as I clearly DID NOT, then expect the following:

A second date, sex on the fifth date, two weeks later saying “I Love You” and combining ONE residence two months later.

Then when you’re head over heels in love, you will turn to your new love and ask:

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Don’t be shocked if you get the following answer:

“The day we met!!”

So please take caution for what you wish for when it comes to love because if you don’t give “The Look” you may get the opposite as I desired…..LOVE!

And you just may have a new Valentine!!

I Love You Chris!!!!

I Love You Chris!!!!

Always remember, You’re Just Part of the Pussy Collective

30 Jul
GUEST BLOGGER
 
I got involved with a player against my better judgment. I first observed him drunkenly stagger out of a bar with some girl he had just met. He took her home, and one-night standed her—then never called. He did that sort of thing routinely.
He chased me until I went out with him.  He was educated, funny and had a great job. Like most players, he was charming, and we had a blast together singing Elvis songs. From our first date, we were inseparable. We went everywhere together. I completely forgot about his being a player until….
We had been seeing each other for three months. We had pet nicknames, and had both said, “I love you.” We seemed to have a genuine connection—or so I thought. It was time to take our relationship to the next level.
We’re asleep in his bed, after a hot night of passionate first-time sex. I’m a light sleeper, so I instantly wake up when he slips out of bed. He doesn’t go to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. No. He gets up to call another woman.
While I’m laying in his bed in the pitch dark, I hear him say in a baby-talk voice, “I love you. I miss you, sweetheart. I wish I could be with you right now.”
I lay there, in his bed, stunned. I thought we had something special. I thought we loved each other. I had also asked him pointedly a few weeks prior if there was anyone else he was still interested him. He denied it. “No, baby, there’s no one but you.Why would you ask such a question?”
I didn’t confront him that night. I waited a couple weeks until his phone bill came in the mail. It was hard to pretend everything was okay during that time when all I wanted to do was scream at him. I used the bill to find the phone number, and searched through his address book until I matched it with her name.
I also discovered something else shocking from looking over his phone bill. He had several women he called regularly. In fact, the same exact minuteI left his house he would be on the phone to some other woman. He literally couldn’t wait 45 seconds for me to be out the door before he had to speak to another woman.
I wanted to see how much of a liar he was, so I set him up. Armed with my new information, I asked him again if there was anyone else. I hid how angry I was. I gently urged him to go ahead and tell me, that I would understand.
He lied his ass off, categorically denying it. It didn’t even register in his head that I might have overheard him talking to her. So, he was a liar and a dumbass.
Finally, I couldn’t take his lies anymore. I snarled, “I heard you call Ashley and tell her you loved her!! What was that about?!”
The Liar weakly sighed. Once he knew the gig was up, he freely spilled the truth. He showed me Ashley’s photo, and commented on what a “nice girl” she was. He’d met her over the summer on vacation, and they had a two week fling. It was winter when he made his infamous midnight call, and he hadn’t seen her since. He kept repeating how “nice” she was, as if I was somehow didn’t measure up. I dumped him right there.
Later on, I found out from mutual friends that The Liar had sex with a woman in a hot tub when he was on the phone to me. (I didn’t know this at the time he called, because he pretended he was alone and missing me.) Turns out she was a hooker his friends had bought him as a practical joke. I was lucky I didn’t get AIDS.
This is what you get when you become involved with a player—there’s always other women. You’re never going to be The Only One. Like the Borg from Star Trek, you’re just one of many. You’re part of The Pussy Collective. You’re nothing special. Your designation is Number 234 of 567 of The Unipussy Matrix 01.
I’m not sure how many readers would get the Borg reference. The final blog will have images to go along with the story, cause I love to do that.

Make me CUM….AGAIN

20 Jun

Today I was in a meeting behind closed doors. We were discussing future financial and budget predictions when I became quite antsy. I shifted my weight and crossed my legs from one side to the other.

It was getting hot, I took off my suit jacket.

I heard voices but it echoed. My body was over powered by a euphoric sensation, a feeling I didn’t want to stop and desperately tried to control.

I wanted it, I needed it, I loved it.

Beads of sweat are now on my forehead, my face was getting red, my toes started to tingle, my body shivered.

YES, YES, I wanted to scream!!!

I blacked out.

“Priscilla”

I said nothing.

“Priscilla,”

I come to and open my eyes.

“Are you okay? You look flushed.”

I very well couldn’t tell three investors while discussing a 30 million dollar construction project I had a fucking orgasm.

“Where’s the restroom,,” I asked?

I walked fastly down the narrow hall as I listened to my heels clank and echo past the glass office doors.

Did my pussy forget I masturbated three times this morning? Four orgasms wasn’t enough, my pussy yearned for more.

I enter the bathroom and close the stall behind me.

I slid my pantyhose down each leg, lifted my pencil skirt up (Didn’t have to worry about panties because I don’t own any) and started rubbing myself. I laid back, closed my eyes and envisioned the following:

I opened the door,

you grab my throat,

throw me against the table,

shove your cock in me,

yank my hair,

grind me,

fuck me,

harder,

make me bleed,

I plea,

you ignore,

I beg,

you call me a whore,

you shiver,

you cum,

deep inside of me,

pull out,

breathing heavily you ask,

What is your name?

 

Another powerful orgasm. I’m done for at least another few hours.

Lesson Learned: Why I don’t give strangers a ride

19 Jun

I woke up at 6AM in my new apartment. I had just moved the previous day and I was exhausted!! I needed a cup of coffee but my coffee maker was hidden in a box I couldn’t find.

I grabbed my keys to go to the nearest McDonalds…..still in my pajamas but I didn’t care, I planned on going in the drive-thru. I was almost at my car when my new neighbor introduced herself. She was short, petite with blonde hair and big boobs. Similar to my appearance but a good foot shorter.

“Hi, I’m Reagan.”

“Priscilla,” I replied.

She welcomed me to the community and pointed out the nosy neighbors to avoid. When she saw that I was leaving she asked:

“Do you mind driving me up to CVS so I can get my prescription?”

I knew exactly where CVS was, it was a block away, next to the McDonalds. It was only a block away, she could have walked, and she should have but instead I said:

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

I dropped her off at CVS, went to Mc Donald’s and when I was about to head back home I wondered if she needed a ride. I looked around but didn’t see her walking. I made a loop into the CVS parking lot and parked by the front door. I waited for ten minutes but still no sign of her. Maybe she was doing some additional shopping I thought.

I turned my ignition off and went inside. As soon as the electronic double doors open I see her in a fist fight with the manager. Why I didn’t walk out and leave I don’t know. My instant reaction was to pull her off this woman.

I heard the manager say:

“I smell alcohol on you.”

Followed by:

“I’ve called the police.”

Again, I don’t know why I didn’t leave, but instead I grabbed my neighbor, we got in the car and I asked:

“What the hell was that about?”

“They wouldn’t let me pay for my prescription with my father’s credit card,” she replied.

It made no sense to me but whatever.

I started the ignition and while backing out of the parking spot I could see the manager through the glass doors and on the phone.

You could see our apartments from the store and as I was getting on the main road five police cars passed us in the opposite direction.

There they go I thought.

Before I could blink one was behind me with red and blue lights flashing.

FUCK!!!!

What did this woman do, I thought? Does she have drugs on her? Did she steal something? What is she not telling me?

When the officer approached my window he immediately asked me to get out of the car.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?????

“Officer what is going on,” I asked?

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he said?

I told him the story, he told me to sit down on the curb and I watched him join the other officers who were now talking with her.

The officer approaches me again and asks me to stand up. I did.

“She has a completely different story. She says the two of you are good friends,” the officer said.

“WHAT????? That’s bullshit, I just met her.”

The officer gets closer to me and asks:

“Have you been drinking?”

Drinking as in alcohol, I thought? It’s not even 7AM, I have coffee in my cup holder not a fucking beer.

“No officer of course not,” I replied.

“Step over here please,” he said.

Great, I thought. I had been through this eight years prior and he was about to have me perform a field sobriety test. Why the fuck does he think I’ve been drinking, I thought?

I wasn’t drunk, didn’t stumble or wobble. I was sober ,but he didn’t think so.

I was handcuffed and placed in the back seat of the squad car.

In the meantime, these jackass cops believed my neighbor’s story, gave HER the keys to MY car along with my cell phone. Gave my valuable possessions to a woman I didn’t fucking know!!!

Once at the police station they take me to a room, turn on the video camera, asked me to do a sobriety test all over again followed by questions.

Once again they asked how I knew that woman. My story didn’t change, I told the truth.

They didn’t believe me, one of the officers said:

“Do you not understand why we don’t believe you? It’s hard to believe in this day and age someone who give someone they don’t know a ride.”

I’m sure I had a pissed, dumbfounded look on my face after that comment.

“Give me the breathyler so I can go home,” I yelled.

The officers looked at one another and replied:

“We are not giving you that option, we want a blood test instead.”

“Blood test, why,” I asked?

“We think you’re under the influence of something.”

Okay, first of all I watched my cousin die of AIDS because of a an improper sanitized needle. I have no problem with needles or blood but trusting the needle is sanitized is a different story.

I have a problem when the hospital sticks a needle in me and I’m certainly not going to let the county jail stick a needle in my arm.

I refused and I went to jail.

When I got out, my car was safely parked at the apartments but I never retrieved my phone. I went to the CVS and spoke with the manager. I asked what had happened and she said the woman went ballistic because the card she tried to use came up as “stolen.” I informed the woman “I” was the one arrested and she was shocked.

“You were the peace-maker. I gave them the description of the other woman, not you,” she said.

The next day I visited with a lawyer.

“I want to take this to trial,” I said.

“Well, let’s just hold off on making this decision right now. Let’s look at your video tape first.”

I leaned towards him and said:

“NO, I am going to fight this because I am innocent.”

The next time I visited my lawyer’s office was to talk about my video tape. First of all, there were two tapes, one at the scene and one at the jail. The video tape at the scene was never found but after six months, the video tape at the jail finally appeared.

“So what did you think,” I asked?

My lawyer leans back in his chair, with his hands folded and said:

“It was one of the best tapes I have ever seen.”

I smiled.

“However, there is only one problem.”

“What’s that,” I asked?

“You look too happy having been arrested for a DWI.”

And it was true. I wasn’t angry or hostile in the video but rather calm and cooperative.

I said to my attorney:

“What good would it have done if I got angry, yelled and called them names? They had already arrested me, they were not letting me go. I had a smile on my face because I knew I was innocent.”

The case drug out for another year and now it was the morning of the trial.

I was nervous but not really. I had faith justice would be served.

Then my attorney approaches me and says:

“The prosecutor has decided to drop the case because the main officer was recently fired for falsifying a police report.”

THANK GOD!!!!

It cost me $15,000 to be a good Samaritan, but partly it was my fault.

Then a year later the unexpected happened. I went into a convenient store and was standing in line when I noticed the officer standing in front of me was the same officer that had arrested me. In fact he was the dumbass who made the comment about people not giving strangers a ride in this day and age. I had remembered the name on his badge that day, Officer Barrett.

So I said:

“Good to see you again Officer Barrett, do you remember me?”

He turned around and said:

“No sorry I don’t.” (Perhaps he didn’t recognize me because that day I had no makeup on, hadn’t combed my hair and was still in my pajamas.

“It’s okay, I figured you wouldn’t,” I said. Then I continued:

“You arrested me about a year and a half ago at 7AM for a DWI. The case was dismissed because your fellow officer was fired for falsifying a police report.”

He said nothing. He just stared at me….shocked was a good word.

“So officer tell me…..how could I have been drunk when I recognize your face and remember your name?”