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

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

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.

I sighed.
I scrolled to the second.

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

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?

Sad

We are silent,

You are hurting, I am hurting,

Saying goodbye is approaching,

At each stop light you cradle my hand,

You are breathing heavily,

So am I,

I can hear your heart pounding,

So is mine,

I hear you swallow hard,

I do too,

I can feel your hurt,

I’m sure you can feel mine,

I’m fighting the tears,

We are at our destination,

It came so quickly,

If only I could have another five minutes of you holding my hand,

You park the car and walk me to mine,

You lean in for a loving hug,

But it’s so hard, just go I thought,

I get in my car and sigh,

One tear drops, then another.

Goodbye my love,

I’m sad,

I’m hurting,

I miss you,

I love you

Make me CUM….AGAIN

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.

My Vision: I Saved a Little Girl’s Life

This morning I got in my car and began driving. I turned the music up and ten minutes later I turned it down.

My vision was blurry, could hardly breathe and felt dizzy. I had to pull over. I merged into the right lane when I had a blackout…..and a vision.

I was sitting in the backseat of a silver truck, next to a little girl. I knew it was a silver truck because of the side mirrors.

“Can we go to the zoo daddy, can we, can we,” the little girl yelled.

“Maybe next weekend sweetie,” said the father.

“But I want to go now,” she said.

“Your mom will worry, I’ve got to take you back to your mother.”

I looked at the little girl, she laid back in her seat and was sad.

Not exactly sure how the accident happened but the truck took a sharp swerve, tumbled a few times, stood back on four wheels….and then I came to.

Good thing the highway was silent because I blacked out for a good minute.

I still couldn’t breathe and now I had a headache. I slightly closed my eyes and said a prayer for the family. My only concern now was to get home, so I could get out of this fucking car before I had another vision.

For the next few miles I drove 80 if not 90mph on the abandoned highway when I noticed an object in the middle of the road.

It was a silver truck parked sideways in the center lane of the highway. I got nearer and the top of the truck was caved in, like it had tumbled a few times as in my vision. I am now breathing heavily. It is the same truck in my vision.

I park my car in the middle of the highway, jumped out and approached the truck trying to open all doors but they were locked. I have to help these people I thought.

I stepped back and kicked in the window of the driver side door . I didn’t notice my leg was now covered in blood.

I saw the father with his body laying across the steering wheel, but did not see the little girl. I reached into he truck to unlock the door and opened the back door. The little girl was on the floor board, lifeless.

I carry the little girl from the floorboard to the highway concrete pavement. She is not breathing. I perform CPR and after a few minutes she coughs, chokes, throws up and opens her eyes.

I plop on the concrete, and can now breathe. Relieved is the best word.

The little girl started to close her eyes.

“No, stay with me sweetie,” I said.

She opened her eyes again.

“Where’s my daddy,” she asked?

“He’s fine sweetie,” I said. The fact was I didn’t know if he was okay. In the meantime someone else had approached the accident and got the father out of the car.

“What’s your favorite color, I asked?

“Purple,” she said in a weak tone.

“So is mine,” I said with a smile.

Then I heard from a distance:

“He’s not breathing.”

“Switch,” I yelled.

When I approached the father he had the look I had once seen once before. He was dead. I attempted CPR but nothing.

“Did you call for an ambulance,” I yelled?

“Yes,” he replied.

“Then where the fuck are they,” I screamed?

Minutes later I heard sirens. I abandoned the father and rejoined the little girl. The man had the little girl laughing, and I smiled.

“What’s your name,” I asked?

“Brianna,” she said with a slight giggle.

“What’s yours”?

“Priscilla,” I replied.

“Vanilla,” she said?

I smiled again. I heard the sirens getting nearer.

“Is my daddy okay,” she asked?

“Help is on it’s way sweetie.”

When paramedics arrived, they pronounced the father dead at the scene. When they attended to the little girl I started to walk back to my car when I heard:

“Vanilla, will you come to the hospital with me?”

I turned around and said, “Of course Brianna, I will meet you there.”

During the 15 minute drive to the hospital I was sad, even cried a little. Who is going to tell this little girl she no longer has a father?

When I arrived at the hospital they would not let me see Brianna, I was not family. A paramedic overheard me and mentioned to the nurse I had saved the little girl’s life.

They let me back and when I got to her room she had a glowing smile on her face.

“Have you seen my father,” she asked?

“No, not yet,” I said with a broken heart.

Shortly after a nurse came in the room and said:

“Sweetie, your mother is here.”

I kissed Brianna on the forehead, walked out of the room and back to the lobby of the emergency room.

There was a woman at the nurses station crying uncontrollably and said:

“He can’t be dead.”

The nurse looked my way, noticed I was leaving and said:

“That woman saved your daughter’s life.”

I stop and turn. The woman and I look at each other. She approaches me. She’s still crying and with smeared mascara on her face she said:

“Do you smoke?”

“Yes I do,” I replied.

We walked out of the emergency room and into the parking garage to light up a cigarette.

We didn’t say much. We both didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you for saving my daughter’s life,” she said with while her fingers shook before taking another drag of her cigarette.

I said nothing. Your welcome did not seem appropriate.

We sat in silence again, then she said:

“And I was going to tell him tomorrow I wanted to stop the divorce.”

Happy Father’s Day

My Visions, My Curse

When I was nine years old, mother and I left the movie theater after seeing When Harry met Sally.

Mom unlocked the car door and instead of opening the passenger door as I always did, I reached for the handle of the driver back seat.

“Priscilla, what are you doing,” mother asked as she noticed my odd behavior.

“I don’t know, I just feel like sitting in the back,” I said.

Actually it was the first time I had ever rode in the back seat since I could remember. But on this particular day something told me not to sit up front with my mother.

During the short drive home mother continued to harp on why I chose to sit in the back seat. Maybe her feeling were hurt or thought I was mad at her. I was about to be mad if she didn’t let it go.

“Priscilla, are you okay,” she said glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Yes mother, I ju……

BAM…….the car spins……we hit a telephone pole and a few cars before we come to a halt. By the grace of GOD, mother and I walked away from this accident without a scratch or bruise on us. However, had I been sitting in the passenger front seat that would have been the last day my mother had a daughter. Just to give you an idea, the passenger door was completely caved in and a few more inches the smashed in door would have punctured my mother’s arm.

It was shortly after this accident when I started having visions, visions that only occur when I’m in a motorized vehicle and which ALWAYS involves an automobile accident.

My first vision was a few months later when mother was driving me to dance practice. I saw a green car getting hit by an 18 wheeler. We drove a green car. One might think I was paranoid after the accident, but I wasn’t, it was REAL.

“Pull over, pull over,” I screamed to mother. She did and I started crying. I was freaking out, it was so intense.

I told mother about what I saw and she assured me we would not be in another accident because she’s now more of a cautious driver.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” mother said with her beautiful smile.

I half-heartedly smiled back, my heart still racing. Her reassurance didn’t exactly ease my worries.

Mother gets back onto the road and we notice congestion at the intersection ahead, two blocks from the dance studio.

There it was……an 18 wheeler and a green car. We looked at each other. I told you mother.

During my teens, the visions became more frequent, powerful and intense. I hated these visions because I couldn’t help these people. I couldn’t see the exact location of the accident and sometimes I would have a vision seconds before it happened. The worst part was before each vision I would get a werid feeling, almost like an anxiety attack, it was awful.

I hadn’t had a vision or an attack in over 2 years…..until this morning.

I woke up a few hour ago with sweaty palms, shaking fingers, could barely swallow and breathe. Not another attack I thought. I know things have been stressful lately but they have gotten better.

I drink some water hoping the attack will go away but it only gets worse. I get in my car and drive towards the neighborhood pharmacy in hopes there is an over-the-counter medicine to ease my rattled nerves.

Within the next few minutes my attack gets even worse, I am now feeling naucious……and then it happened……I had a vision.

I saw a woman wearing a yellow shirt crossing the street and hit by a black F150 truck to be exact.

I begin to cry. No…..this can not be happening again I thought as I made a U-turn to go back home.  I was about to turn my blinker on to turn onto my street when I saw something in the road. It was dark, the lights on the pole were too dim to see what it was. I get closer………

There it was, a woman wearing a yellow shirt laying on top of the windshield of the black truck.

Please LORD take these visions away from me, or give me the gift to be able to help these people.

Can you top this story?

When I lived in Florida the best part of my day was when I left for work, and HATED pulling into my driveway every evening as I entered back into the gates of HELL!!! My live-in boyfriend at the time DISGUSTED me and I don’t throw that word around lightly.

He didn’t work, couldn’t because he had just been released from prison, a small detail he lacked to tell me when we met. He was a slob, thief, lazy, lazy and lazy as he played video games all day while I was worked to put food on the table.

So how did he manipulate me into believing he was everything I desired but was really the EXACT OPPOSITE? It was a combination of my own stupidity and a powerful emotion we call “Love at First Sight.”

I was 1200 miles away from family and friends in Texas and I felt trapped!!! If I did leave he would have no means to survive, not to mention all my furniture was in Florida. I very well could not pack all my shit and furniture into a Uhaul and disappear before he woke up. Nor would I feel comfortable driving that far of a distance in what I would consider to be an 18 wheeler. One day I was about to say FUCK IT when he helped make my escape a WHOLE lot easier.

I came home from work one day to our dog jumping, happy to see me and a boyfriend who was high as a kite playing video games in the recliner.

“How was your day honey,” he said in passing still focused on his video game.

It was great until I got here I thought, but didn’t say.

My usual routine was to make dinner (yeah he was too lazy to do that too), take a shower and go to sleep until the most beautiful noise sounded which was my alarm clock, so I could yet again exit the gates of hell.

Except this particular evening things played out a little differently…..

“Come here,” he said as he put his controller down, moved to the couch and patted the cushion next to him.

Ehhhhh…..do I have to I thought?

I did as he wished but approached him in a less enthusiastic motion.

Then he attempted what I was afraid he would do……a kiss.

Ehhhhh…..and of course I played along.

He abruptly stopped the kiss and asked why I wasn’t into him anymore.

Ehhhhh……do you really have to ask I thought.

Then he said……

“I want to make love to you.”

Ehhhhh…..I knew this day was coming soon. It had been two months since we were intimate and I cherished every moment his dick was NOT inside of me.

Please,

Please,

Please,

Please,

He begged.

“Fine,” I said just to shut him the fuck up!! Except I was not going to fuck him, I would give him a blowjob instead because he came much quicker this way.

I swallow the chunks now arriving in my throat as I stick this disgusting person’s cock in my mouth.

I didn’t suck slow at first as I usually did, instead my mouth had become the energizer bunny to make sure this dick came as quickly as possible.

CUM MOTHER FUCKER CUM!!!!

“Wait, wait,” he said.

WTF I thought? Now I have to get back in my “sucking a disgusting dick mode” all over again.

“I’ll be right back.”

I watched him jog to the bedroom then quickly reappear.

He kneels down in between the couch and coffee table, takes my hand into his, slides a gold band with a diamond around my finger and says:

“As you were giving me a blowjob I noticed something was missing on this finger. Will you marry me?”

I dashed to the bathroom.

Needless to say I didn’t finish the blowjob, I never wore the ring and I left him two days later.

He still wonders why I left him.

My Best Fuck EVER!!!!

I arrived at the parking garage of the hospital near the emergency room entrance about to visit my parents. I was anxious to visit them if only I could get out of the FUCKING car, something I’ve done thousands of times but NOT in this condition.

I swung my feet on the concrete pavement, lifting myself with my legs that were numb and arms that were about to fall off. The last time I couldn’t get out of the car was when I ended the night as my first day as a stripper wearing those six-inch stripper heels. Three minutes later I’m now standing up. I can somewhat breathe.

I cautiously walk towards the light exiting the garage. I am going to kill my Pilates instructor! I believe she hasn’t been hard enough on me. I follow the light, the sun beaming outside the garage if only I can get there.

Oh Shit!!! I dropped my keys.

Nice and easy, nice and easy I thought. My abs felt like rocks, my arms are swinging and my thighs are about to give out any second if only my nails would loop around my key ring that helplessly laid on the pavement.

I believe in GOD. There is a GOD, right? If so, please help me!!!! I don’t ask for much.

I slowly stand up and my back pops, ohhhh….I will deal with that pain later.

Now I am in the sunlight and out of the parking garage. The light gives me the “walk” signal and of course I walk. After about three steps into it the “walk” sign changes to “stop.” Yes, I know I’m a little slow but if I can survive last night than I think I can live another day if only I can make it across the street.

Horns are honking.

Shut your pie hole I yell!!

A line at the intersection is now forming waiting for me to cross the fucking street. Geez…you Texans really are horn happy, be considerate for someone who is hurt and making their way to the emergency room.

Yeah, I saw that asshole….there really is no need to flip me the bird!!!

Okay, I’m across the street. I made it. I’m alive…..still.

Now I have to walk across the side of the emergency room to the main entrance of the hospital. Alright….give me a second, I’m getting there.

Geez, grandma….do you workout, I thought as she strolled past me on her walker? Perhaps I should ask who her Pilates instructor is.

Ohhh noooo!!! Ohhhh nooo…. there are kids running towards me…..noooooo….noooo……don’t hit me!!!!! Please!!!! If you knock me down I won’t be able to get up!

Whew….close call but I’m still standing.

Now I am at the entrance of the building.

Awww…thank you sir for holding the door open for a weak and hurt young woman. I know your about 50 years older than I but one of these days I promise to repay the favor as I always do.

Ohhhhh nooooo!!!! Hold the elevator, hold the elevator!!!

Oh, your such a nice, kind young man I said to the five-year old boy. You are so sweet to your elders.

I think I need to write a thank you letter to the person who invented elevators!!

Five please, I told the young man.

Ohhh….okay so a few pit stops. People off, on, off, on….okay…I’m leaning against the elevator rail now not sure if I can make it to the fifth floor just standing still. Then….the light for the fifth floor lights up. FINALLY, I thought NOOOOOOOO…..hold the elevator doors please! Moving a little slow but I will make it.

I enter the floor and the doctor and nurses are looking at me. Hey guys, I brought you 50 pizzas yesterday, the least you can do is DON”T ASK!!!.

They smile and look away.

Only twenty more feet and I’m in my mother’s room.

Now five, four, three, two, one….. and I plop into the chair next to my mother’s bed. Yes, if one didn’t know better I had just ran a 10k marathon. I huff and puff, relieved to finally be sitting down.

My mother turns her head towards me and says:

“Priscilla, what happened to you?”

Huh, I asked?

The bruises on your right arm she said nodding with her head in a weak voice.

I look down and well……OH FUCK ME!!!!

So what did happen last night?

Well….a few weeks ago I reblogged a post from the MLF Diary titled “Pin Me.”

Oh was it ever smoking HOT and made my pussy wet!!!

The night before, I told Mr. WordPress Blogger:

“Remember that post I sent you?”

He replied, “Yes!”

“Well…I desperately need and want that done to me.”

He was a little hesitant at first and said:

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

I cried out…… NOOOO…..PLEASE….PLEASE….hurt me……I BEG OF YOU!!!!

So here’s what happened……

Pin me down, (Oh you did and hard.)

throw my legs over your shoulders, (Is that the reason why my thighs are numb?)

choke me out, (I yelled more, more, more…..okay I died and you brought me back to life when you teased me with your cock.)

call me your whore, (Well….you said that amongst other words I had never heard.)

slap my ass, (Yeah, your hand left marks.)

grab my wrists, (Is that why my wrists are red?)

shove your cock in me, (Well I feel like you shoved it, grinded it, swirled it and other descriptive words that aren’t yet in the dictionary.)

fuck me hard. (Oh….is that why I feel like I gave birth to an unborn child?)

bruise me, (One, two, three, four, five…..and still counting.)

beat me, (The bruises are proof you did that.)

hurt me, (I think you all know I’m in enough pain to believe that happened.)

make me not walk. (What should have been a 7 minute walk from the parking garage to my mother’s hospital room was actually 45 minutes.)

fuck me till you cum, (Oh you did and it dripped out of me STILL two days later.)

pull out and shove it in my mouth, (Yup…you were shivering and about to stick it in my mouth.)

cum in my mouth, (My mouth, face, chin and hair.)

in the back of my throat. (And….my best part…..yes, it was the best fucking desert I ever had.)

I was interrupted….

“So what happened mother asked?”

“I’m sorry mom. I was a bit distracted,” I said.

Oh, that I said nodding to the bruises on my arm. That’s nothing. I just slightly fell down the stairs,” I said without thinking.

Mother’s head slightly jerked upward.

“You fell down the stairs,” mother yelled out?

Oh shit, now she’s worried.

It was either that or tell her the night before I had the BEST FUCKING SEX EVER!!!!

Mr. WordPress Blogger: I love you dearly 🙂

My Dumbest Moment Ever…..

I’ve done a lot of stupid ass shit in my life but haven’t we all? Live and learn, right?

But there is one incident I did that makes me the dumbest fucking idiot of all and should have been broadcasted on the T.V. show “Cops.”

(NOTE: Please don’t drink and drive it kills, AND makes you look like a fucking idiot.)

Two months before my 21st birthday a friend bought me a six-pack of Budweiser beer. Half a beer made me tipsy so you can imagine what a WHOLE beer did to me. (Yeah those were the days.)

The list of my stupidity…..

1. I was STUPID for drinking and driving at 4:30AM

2. I was STUPID for traveling at 65mph in a 35mph zone

3. I was STUPID for jumping the curb and not paying better attention to the road

Now I have red and blue flashing lights behind me. Great, I thought as I pulled over. And of course my stupidity continues…..

4. I was STUPID for not hiding the six-pack of beer that firmly sat next to me in the passenger seat since I was under age

5. I was STUPID for not disregarding the beer bottle I was still drinking that sat in my lap

But what makes me the BIGGEST FUCKING IDIOT EVER was when…..

The officer approached my window, requested my driver’s license and insurance card and INSTEAD of reaching into my purse to give the officer this information I……..

Grabbed one of the beers sitting next to me, popped off the top, handed it to the officer with my dashing smile and said:

“Relax, have one on me,” as I cheered the bottle he was now holding with mine and chugged the rest of my beer.

Yeah, there was only one plea for me……FUCKING GUILTY!!!!

***Again, please do not drink and drive****

My Tits are a Legend in High School……

The auditorium was packed, the band was playing and I stood amongst my fellow high school cheerleaders during a pep rally. I was performing a cheer when I saw one of my classmates imitating me by stuffing tissue paper down his shirt. That was it, I had enough!! Some women may think I am blessed to have a small frame and LARGE natural breasts but I have always thought I was cursed with natural 36DD and it goes back to elementary school.

The curse of my large breasts began on my mother’s side whom have all had breast reductions. Yes, they may look great to you men but really they are a pain in my ASS!!! It’s hard to find a dress that accommodates both your waist AND breast size, a bathing suit with an underwire and you can never wear the cute strapless tops because you ALWAYS HAVE TO WEAR A FUCKING BRA!!!!

I was in the 6th grade when my male home room teacher approached me after pulling me aside beside from the rest of the class and said:

“Priscilla, you need to wear a bra.”

I was wearing a white turtle neck that day so perhaps my early development revealed too much. Then in middle school a rumor started that I stuffed my bra, also due to my cursed tits. One of my junior high teachers again pulled me aside after class and suggested I not wear a padded bra.

“I’m not,” I said lifting my shirt to show her.

There was a lot of heartache, pain and tears about these rumors in middle school and as a result, my mother transferred me to a different school in the middle of the year. In high school I tried out for the cheerleading squad, don’t know why, but I did, and made it. Some of my former classmates remembered the rumor in junior high and continued to carry out the legend. It was not a very good time for me in my life, it’s not like I could prove I DID NOT stuff my bra I thought.

Then that day, during the pep rally was when I had my breaking point. There is only so much I could take, and when I saw him in the stands stuffing tissue paper in his shirt I threw my pom-poms down, backed up to where the band was standing in front of the entire school and……….

Yes, I lifted the top of my cheerleading uniform and flashed the ENTIRE school.

Yeeeaaahhhh…..I was kinda expelled but at least I proved my point!!!