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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?

I’m embarassed to tell this story

18 Jun

I got an email from a man this morning I hadn’t seen or spoken to in three years. It made me think of this story.

I was sitting at the breakfast table one Saturday morning with my ex-fiance (the doctor) as we waited for the live-in housekeeper (who I later found out he was fucking) to prepare us breakfast. Instead of giggling as I usually did, I sat in silence. I had caught him cheating the day before, and at this time I knew of only one woman, not the other six.

I was sad, hurt and speechless. My mind was wandering and he knew I was upset. He was looking at the paper and I stared out at the beautiful lake that didn’t seem so beautiful this morning.

I was premediating how to cut off his dick when he put his newspaper down and said:

“How about we buy you a new car today? What kind of car would you want,” he asked?

A car that would drown your bank account, I thought.

He knew I liked Mercedes but he was pushing towards the car he drives which is a BMW. I still wasn’t thrilled or excited but went along for the ride anyways.

When we arrived at the BMW dealership it was a disaster. Every car he liked I hated. Perhaps I wasn’t in a very good mood and certainly didn’t feel like car shopping. The car salesman was doing everything to please me but I wasn’t the nicest person in return.

My ex-finance’s opening line to the car salesman was “I want to buy my loving and beautiful fiance a brand new car. Show us what you have.”

HAHA….BULLSHIT….”LOVING” MY ASS!!!!

For an hour I test drove a few different cars but nothing that got my pussy wet.

Then the car salesman said to me and my ex-finance:

“Your not very excited about getting a new car.”

Everybody went silent. There was only one thought that came to mind. For four years, I always kept my mouth shut. I never crossed my ex, even if I disagreed. Not sure why, maybe because of the power I thought he had but really lacked, but this day I said what I thought, and even after I said it shocked me. I said:

“It’s only a piece offering because I caught him fucking another woman last night,” I said pointing to my ex.

Ohhhhhhh, this did not go over well with my ex. But I didn’t fucking care, it was true.

My ex apologized to the salesman and we left.

“Why did you embarrass me like that,” he asked?

“Because it’s true,” I replied as my eyes are now starting to tear up.

He pulled into a restaurant and we had lunch. We ate in silence. Not sure if he was waiting on me or if I was waiting on him to say something. Then my phone rings, it’s my mother. I excuse myself and when I returned to the table he asked, “Who was that?”

My mother, I replied.

He took a deep breath, looked at his food and asked, “Did you tell her?”

“No.” (And I didn’t.)

A few moments of silence went by and I said: “She told me to tell you hi and she loves you,” I said looking down at my plate, picking at my food.

He put his fork down and asked if I was done. Yes I replied. I had no appetite.

We got in the car and he pulled into the Mercedes dealership when I thought we were going home.

When we pulled in, my pussy got wet, I was in love, I HAD to have that car. It was a brand new silver CLK. More importantly I was hoping it would be the most expensive car on the lot. Not the most expensive, but one of them.

A male and female car salesman approach us. My ex expressed we were interested in the car but I immediately interrupted them and requested, Tim, the car salesman who showed me some cars when I visited a few weeks prior.

They were kind to my request and said they would go get him. A few minutes later a tall, thin, well groomed African American gentleman started walking towards us. He was a kind, sincere man who didn’t try to feed me BS as most car salesmen do. Instead he was like a friend who came along for the ride to give me advice to make sure I wasn’t screwed over. Tim immediately remembered me and my name without having to reintroduce myself. He began to talk about the vehicle we were standing in front of when my ex interrupted him and said:

“Tim, is it?

Tim nods his head yes.

My ex continued to say, “Sorry for the inconvenience but we would prefer if the other two sales people would help us.”

Tim had a dumbfounded look on his face followed by sadness.

I was now fucking pissed and livid. My ex did not want to deal with Tim because he was fucking black. I watched Tim leave and the other two sales people walk towards us.

We bought the car, and I drove off in this stupid fucking Mercedes.

While driving home I really wanted to make a detour and run away. Driving back home instead of bolting was one of the stupidest mistakes I had ever made.

That night I didn’t sleep. While my ex was laying next to me snoring his ass off I didn’t think about leaving him due to his infidelity but rather how embarrassed I was at the dealership for the way he treated Tim.

The next morning I called the dealership, spoke to Tim and asked if he wanted to do lunch. Thankfully, he happily accepted.

A few hours later I met him at the restaurant of his choice. I smiled when I saw him, and he in return he grinned.

We talked, we laughed and then he started to get personal in a non-romantic way. I learned his wife had cheated on him and was confused about leaving her because of the kids. (I could completely relate, but I hadn’t shared my story.)

I asked him: “What will make you happy?”

His eyes lit up and he smiled. He began talking about this non-organization he wanted to start for abused kids.It was a brilliant idea and for the next 30 minutes he didn’t stop glowing as he went into detail about his idea.

“I just need to save enough money and trying to find investors. Hopefully it will be up and running in two years,” he said.

When lunch was over we went back next door to the dealership. He went inside to get my car plates and I went to my car, reached in the glove compartment for the card and check that was enclosed. It was the least I could do for my ex’s stupidity and him not getting the full commission on this fucking car. I opened the card, tore the check and wrote another. I had increased the figure.

Yeah, if my ex finds out I will deal with him later I thought. Besides, the second figure I wrote on the check still wasn’t enough in my mind.

Tim changed my car plates, I gave him the card followed by a hug and a thank you.

I called the dealership a few weeks later and they said he no longer worked there. I never saw or spoken to him again. Then today I get the following email from Tim:

Hi Priscilla,

I hope you’re doing well. I tried calling you two years ago but your number was disconnected. I was cleaning out my email when I came across an email you had sent me.

I am doing great, I am now divorced and have custody of the kids. My dream we discussed came true and it has really taken off.

Had it not been for you, it would not of come true. Thanks for your kindness and hopefully you’re not with that, well, I will stop here, but you know what I want to say.

Tim

Needless to say, my ex may have judged Tim based on his color, but really Tim is a real MAN!!!

Can you top this story?

12 Jun

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!!!!

11 Jun

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…..

8 Jun

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……

3 Jun

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!!!

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