Sunday, March 28, 2010


There was a man standing in the corner yelling “Save the Boombox”.

.. ..

Another man kept counting to himself while rocking
back and forth “2+2=4, 4+4=8, 8+8=16” and he went on…..

.. ..

The coolest guy in the room was randomly quoting fun
facts. He didn’t communicate except to say another fact and the occasional
outburst. His two favorites were “In
1976, the 10 billionth gallon of "Coca-Cola" syrup was produced. “and “It is illegal to say "Oh, Boy" in Jonesboro, Georgia.” This
would be followed by a few minutes of hollering “Oh, boy” up and down the

.. ..

My personal favorite fact was the one that made
Brit the Bulimic cry. “Every time you lick a stamp you are consuming 1/10 of a
calorie.” I don’t expect a Christmas card from her this year.

.. ..

You would think I would be scared to be locked up
with these people when in reality I love them more than I have ever loved anyone.
They are flawed and some damaged beyond repair but they don’t judge me for what
I have done, they don’t question how a seemingly normal girl ended up in a
place like this. They all know that there is no such thing as normal.

.. ..

To the outside world it probably seems that I gave
up on life when I came here, to Shady Lane Mental Health Facility, otherwise
known as Shady Lane Nuthouse. I’m not completely insane like the people around
me. I don’t hear voices or try to hurt anyone around me. My problem has been
labeled many things but certifiable has not been one of them. Even my
psychiatrist doesn’t think I need to be here.

.. ..

However, I do.

.. ..

It all started one night when the kids would not be
quiet, running and screaming, using my furniture as trampolines and diving
boards. Toys were scattered from one end of the house to the other. The dog
needed to be walked or fed, something was making her hound my heels to the
point that I stepped on her paw. The husband and the proclaimed King of the
House was on his video game and yelling at me to keep the kids quiet because he had important business to attend to in his virtual playground. I couldn’t
breathe. I couldn’t think. I just wanted peace and quiet. A moment of silence
would have been nice. The room began to spin and I fainted.

.. ..

I woke up in the hospital two days later. The
doctors couldn’t find a medical reason for my fainting and sent me on home.
When I got there the kids needed baths and homework done. They had projects for school and they were due yesterday. The man had a big competition coming up on his video game and told me I shouldn’t be tired. I had, after all, just slept
for two days. In just moments I was bombarded with 15 different things and I
couldn’t cope. My hands shook as I ran back out the door, ripping my coat on
the rusty nail that held the screen door closed because my husband was too busy
to fix anything.

.. ..

I drove 400 miles that night and when I could finally see the ocean, I felt like I could breathe. I had thrown my cell phone out the window many miles back and for just a few moments I felt free. Then I turned around and drove home.

.. ..

We tried to work it out, the hubby and I. Well, I
tried and my psychiatrist tried, mostly the man just showed up and heard what
he wanted to hear. When I point blank told him he was making me crazy he heard
that I wanted to see other men. If I had possessed a weapon in that moment I
would have killed him.

.. ..

Months went by and nothing changed.

.. ..

Then one day I drove by ....Shady
Lane..... The lawns were beautiful and the people
seemed so calm and sedate. Even the crazy people who thought I was their
daughter or sister and were irate when I contradicted them calmed down soon
after the nurse gave them their medicine.

.. ..

So I went home, packed a bag and check myself out
of life. Maybe one day I will be able to
go back but I don’t even want to think of it now. I get so much writing done
while I am here and the kids seem to be doing remarkably well since their Daddy
is too tired at night to yell and play video games.

.. ..

I would have to say; overall, checking in to the loony
bin is the best thing that ever happened to my family.


We’re sitting together watching the news which is not something we would normally be doing but we’re both too scared to take the next step, we sit close together but not touching watching talking heads tell us how awful the world is. It’s not romantic in the
least but we are both engrossed, avoiding the inevitability of why we are sitting in a run down motel on the side of the interstate. Months of foreplay and ..midnight.. confessions led us here so surely something will come of our sneaking around now that we are finally alone.

There is suddenly breaking news and my ears perk up, dragging me out of my own head momentarily
and out of the fantasy of what I thought this night would be like, our first time and all.

The President is making a statement. Before I hear his words I think of how the public is going to rip him a new one for going on TV in a T-shirt and khakis. His words tell me though that the public will never have a chance to judge him perhaps that is
why he went on in a T-shirt, one last fuck you to the world.

"My fellow... citizens of Earth... I'm afraid I have...
catastrophic news. I'll make this quick. Covert international peace negotiations took an ugly turn today. Thousands of nuclear missiles around the globe have been launched. We have no way to stop them.

"In one hour... we are all going to be instantly vaporized in nuclear Armageddon. All life on Earth will cease to exist. There is no escape for anyone, anywhere.”

You turn to look at me as this news sinks in, your blue eyes meeting mine in the dim glow of the
TV. I don’t know what to say so for once in my life I say nothing. All of the time that we have wasted seems poetic now. That what I have yearned and longed for will be the last thing I ever do seems just somehow. There will be no time for guilt or regrets; I decide to just go for it. The worst thing that could
ever happen already has.

Standing I strip. I kick off my jeans and wiggle out of my bra, leaving on my panties as I quickly
discard my shirt. The purple panties hug my mound and your mouth hangs open as you watch me run my fingers across my dampening crotch.

I straddle you and kiss your full lips, nipping at them, demanding a response from you. Your
silken tongue slides inside and the taste of you makes me moan. I grind myself onto the swell in your jeans as you slip your hands inside my velvet panties to grip my ass. Your mouth finds its way to my neck and you nibble there in that spot, biting harder as I press my throat into your mouth. No need to worry about leaving marks makes you bold as your mouth travels to me hard, pink
nipples. I tug at your hair as you nip them hard. The pain is welcome and wanted; I need you to hurt me a little.

.. ..

Taking your hand I press it between us, your fingers find my swollen nub through the velvet and I
groan as you make me tremble. My lips are full and slick, barely contained in the fabric. Sliding down to my knees in front of you I pull your pants down and off, tossing them aside carelessly as your throbbing cock beckons to me. You are swollen and vulnerable, your head already slick before I wrap my fingers firmly around you. I lick the sweet drops of cum away and lick your from bottom to top.

Stretching my mouth wide I take you inside of me, licking as I suck deep and fast. You use the
pigtails you requested to guide me, slower at first and then harder. Soon you are fucking my face while I lick and nibble where I can, my lips trying to grip you as you thrust up and into my hot mouth. One last thrust pushes you into my throat; I gag a little as hot cum shoots inside my mouth. I pull back from you sucking as I go, not wanting to miss a drop of your juices.

Our eyes meet and you smile, white teeth flashing in the dark. I grin our silly smile right back at you as I walk over to the bed and lie down, my legs spread as I beckon you to me. Kneeling on the bed you playfully hold me down while pressing your
crotch into mine. There’s nothing quite like Armageddon to make a man ignore his natural need to rest between hard ons.

We kiss, nibble and lick each other, your chest, my stomach; we don’t miss an inch of each other.
You slide down my body until your head is lying on my thighs; your warm breath tickles me and makes me wiggle. A firm hand on my mound holds me in place though and I moan as one fingers slips inside the panties I still wear. Your finger rubs the small strip of material that hides me from your lustful gaze. It feels dirty to still have on clothing when you are completely naked.

Your fingers work themselves inside and touch me, using my own wetness as lube. You make me yelp
as you tug at one lip and then the other; I spread myself wide and urge you on, nearly begging you to be inside of me. You take your time though and leave me gasping, thrashing on the bed with just your simple touch.

Finally I can take no more and I beg you, plead with you to fuck me. You strip my panties down and
bend my legs back until they are near my ears. The first thrust is magic, hitting all the right spots to make me scream your name and cum all at once. I
spray my juices all around you and the look you give me is pure passion, raw and unfiltered. I think to myself that you were happier with my orgasm than you were your own.

.. ..

You start a rough pounding rhythm that I struggle to meet, long, hard strokes making me moan incoherently as one orgasm turns into 20. My juices drip down my thighs and my cunt makes a wet smacking sound every time you slide into me. I put one hand on your chest to stop you. If the world is ending there is one thing I know you want to try and this seems to be our only chance.

I roll over and get on all fours, poking my pale ass into the air. My ass is already slick and you need little encouragement as I pull you to me, positioning your cock outside my tight, pink ring. I spread myself open for you as you slide inside of me, stretching me like no one else ever has. You go slowly at first, the tightness surprises you, it’s almost painful but you like it. Pain is pleasure for you as well.

One hand grabs my hair and pulls me upright as the other snakes its way around my body. Your fingers rub my clit as you start to pound into me, hammering away at me. I feel an orgasm building, bigger than the ones before. I move with you, meeting your thrusts with my own. Your teeth sink into my neck as we come together, waves of pleasure washing over us.

We lay there in the dark and wait for the end to come, knowing that if we die in this moment we will
both go happily.

One hour passes….

Then another.

Turning on the news we see there is rioting in the streets, people looting like never before. On every channel there is more violence. Finally I stop on a channel that is showing the president, this time in a proper suit and tie. The last two hours have made him haggard and aged him 20 years. He’s apologizing profusely for the mix up….there is no Armageddon; we’re safe except for ourselves.

I look at you and we laugh until it hurts. When we finally catch our breath we hug goodbye. I have a husband and two kids to get home too and you have to work this afternoon. I’m still laughing as I drive away. You’re the only guy I know that it would take pending disaster to get you to fuck me.

.. ..

I wonder briefly what to tell the husband….then I decide the truth will have to do. After facing down total annihilation a little adultery has to seem petty.


Daniel and Nicole:

The First Time

It had been 10 years since I had seen him and I couldn't help but think that maybe I should turn around go back to Boston. Maybe ten years wasn't enough time to put the hurt and past behind us. I gripped the steering wheel tight and pulled over to the shoulder. I had agonized over going back home for weeks and still hadn't decided what to tell him about where I had been for the past decade.

The truth is he probably didn't care where I had been but more why I was there and not married to him like I should be; where I said I would be. How can he know I kicked myself everyday for walking away from him? All the regret in the world wouldn't make up for lost time and I didn't know what kind of reception I would be getting in my hometown.

I remember the look on his face when I told him I was leaving. The hurt and the anger, tears streaming down his face as I walked away quickly, trying not to turn around and take it all back. All the hurt and the lies of the last few months had accumulated to this; breaking my engagement on Graduation night. That look haunts my nightmares, the ones where I run and run but I can never get away from his pain and him crying "Nicole, come back".

When I think back beyond that night, which is quite often, I remember all the good times we had as kids. We had lived next door to each other since third grade and we were inseparable from the start. No matter what it was we were doing from building forts to playing house we only had fun when we were together. Even our parent's thought it was a little much but there wasn't much they could do to stop us. By high school we were in love and determined to be together all the time, consequences be damned.

I smile as I remember the last time our parents tried to keep us apart. We had missed curfew and I failed a test so I was forbidden to see him for three days. It seemed like such a long time. I cried for hours. When my parents went to bed I snuck out, stealing my older sister's keys. I had a license but no car yet, although I was hoping I would get one on my eighteenth birthday coming up in 6 months.

I drove down to the garage where Daniel worked part time after school. When I walked through the door and Daniel saw me, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He held me like we hadn't seen each other in a week.

He kissed me on the lips and we clung to each other for a minute. I heard Terry, one of the other mechanics, laughing and my face turned beet red. Pushing Daniel away, I stared at the floor but laughed when I heard Daniel tell the other guy that he was just jealous.

I went to wait in the office for Daniel to clean up so we could take my sister's car back. If someone woke up and saw it wasn't in the driveway then I would get caught far sooner than I wanted. This wasn't the first time I had snuck out but somehow tonight felt different.

Maybe it was just the chill in the cold, winter air but I felt lighter and freer than normal. For once I wasn't scared of what might happen on one of our stolen nights. It always felt so naughty going for a drive knowing no one had a clue as to where I was. Anything could happen and no one would ever know. Nothing had happened up until then, mostly staring at the stars and some under the clothes petting. I was a good girl and scared my parents would find out; they would be so disappointed in me. Sex was forbidden while under their roof.

Normally the forbidden scared me, tonight it made me feel adventurous and daring. I didn't know what the night might bring but I was willing to find out.

We chattered on about our day and how unfair our parents were all the way to the top of the mountain. Daniel parked in the field we had found on the side of our favorite back road.

We got out and sat in the bed of the truck and held each other looking at the moon. It was so big it looked like I could touch it and there were millions of stars, looking like diamonds scattered across the black velvet sky. I didn't want to move. Daniel holding me felt perfect but the truck bed was metal and cold. When my teeth started chattering Daniel told me to get back in the truck and he would turn on the heat.

Daniel rubbed my hands to warm me up and then pulled me into his lap wrapping his coat around me. We sat like that for a while letting the truck warm us. Daniel leaned his head in and kissed me on the lips, softly and slowly. I leaned into the kiss and nipped at his lips, more aggressive than I normally would.

His hands wandered under my shirt as we continued to kiss. My nipples were tight little buds as his work roughened hands slid into my bra to rub across them. My breath quickened with each stroke of his thumb and I pushed my chest into his hands, encouraging him.

Daniel leaned his head down to my neck and sucked right under my ear, nipping me lightly. I pushed his head down making him bite me hard. His hands grew rougher on my breasts, tweaking my nipples until I was squirming against his growing erection.

Pulling back he looked at me, his blue eyes questioning. In answer I straddled him and took off my shirt and kicked off my shoes. I took his face in my hands and kissed him long and hard while I ground my pelvis into his crotch. I saw the surprise in his eyes but felt his excitement. His hard cock was pressing into my jeans and I could feel my panties getting damp.

Kissing down to my chest, he took off my bra and took my nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking until I was bucking against him, moaning. When I could take no more I climbed off of him long enough to shed my jeans, leaving my panties on. Daniel pushed me down onto the seat and spread my legs. This was closer than we had ever been before and I knew there was no looking back when he moaned my name as his finger grazed the outside of my pink silk panties.

"Nicole, are you sure?" he asked as he dipped his head down to kiss along my hip. I couldn't answer so I nodded and moved to take off my underwear. He stopped my hands and looked at me until I whispered "yes".

He pulled my panties off and tossed them in the floorboard with the rest of my clothes. Running his fingers through my soft, red curls he had a look of pure wonder on his face. I felt myself getting wet just from the way he was looking at me, like I was a rare bird or precious stone.

He ran his fingers along the outside of my lips tenderly until I groaned and spread my legs wider, encouraging him to enter where no one else had ever been before. He parted my lips and rubbed at the hard nub at the top, gently but harder and faster the more I squirmed and moaned. I could feel a pressure building inside like I had never felt before. His fingers were getting slick from me and he slid one into me, testing and teasing at the same time.

When I didn't stop him, he pushed into me farther and withdrew slowly again and again until I grabbed his hand and made him go faster. I could feel my juices dripping down onto the seat and the pressure was so intense I felt tears in my eyes. Daniel slid another finger in and I screamed, making him stop.

"No, please, don't stop," I moaned, my body aching for the release I was so close to. He continued fingering me, faster and hard until I was writhing on the seat, crying from the waves of pleasure wracking my body.

I lay there for a minute after and I heard Daniel fumbling for a condom. He tried to open it with his teeth and couldn't do it so he got out his knife and got it open tearing a hole in the latex. The disappointment on his face made me want to cry and I knew I couldn't tell him no, condom or not.

"Come here," I said motioning him to lie on top of me. Again he asked me if I was sure and in the moment I was. I was ready to give myself to him and would worry about the consequences tomorrow, tonight was for us.

"Daniel, please, let's just do it," I whispered huskily. He lay there on top of me for a minute, his eager, young cock pressed into my soft, wet lips. Grinding myself up into him I saw him lose the war he was having with himself.

Pushing himself up, he positioned his head between my lips and pushed into me an inch at a time. It hurt but not as bad as thought it would. I lay still and tried to breathe as he stretched my pussy to fit him. Daniel was panting and dripping sweat but still only half way in when I felt him reach a barrier he would have to break. I could see the indecision on his face and took matters into my own hands, grabbing his hips and thrust myself up to him.

Crying out from the pain and the pleasure I rocked my hips into his, setting the pace for him to continue. He took over quickly, grinding himself into me, only pulling out a little before pushing back into me.

Seeing he was too scared to hurt me to really fuck me like I had seen on the internet I told him to sit up so I could straddle him. I impaled myself on him and rode him fast and hard. There were little twinges of pain but the pleasure was so intense I barely noticed. I could feel the pressure building again and I pounded myself on him as roughly as I could stand, digging my nails into his blond hair and feeding him my breasts.

His cock started twitching inside of me as I felt hot juices running down my leg as Daniel cried out. He grabbed my hips and slammed me into him, bringing on my own orgasm. We were both groaning and covered in sweat but I didn't want to let him go.

When we finally let each other go, we rolled down all the windows and moved apart to cool off. We couldn't stop staring at each other and smiling. Daniel's smile lit up my world and in the moment I would have given my anything to keep him smiling forever.

* * * *

Shaking myself back to reality I stared at the dark road in front of me. With Daniel's smile in my mind I got back on the road towards the home and boy I had left. Some way I would find a way to face him.


I hated moving more than anything on Earth. Having something vital amputated would have been preferable to packing all my stuff and lugging it to the truck and then having to unload it all again somewhere new. It had to be done though and here I was, two days away from moving across the country for the second time in my life and I couldn’t even finish packing my clothes. They were strewn haphazardly across my bedroom, spilling into the hallway where my son’s boxes were packed nice and neat. How I could have produced a child so tidy and organized I have no idea but he was all mine, from his blue eyes to his two left feet.

I gave up on the clothes and moved onto my jewelry, which should have been easy since most of it resided in a shoe box anyway. There were things in there I hadn’t looked at in years, my procrastination made me want to sort each piece right this minute though so I cleared a place on the bed and sat down. The first 100 or so things I came to in my sorting weren’t important, cheap earrings and broken necklaces that I swore I would fix some day. There were rings with stones missing and bracelets without clasps. Staring at the broken mess I decided that most of this could go in the trash, the good stuff was already packed away in my small safe. There is where you would find my grandmother’s ring and my mom’s wedding jewelry, nice stuff that I didn’t trust myself to wear.

I picked up the already full trash bag and dumped the jewelry on top. As I was closing it though something red caught my eye. It was another earring but this one I knew was pure white gold with a ruby stone dangling from it; one pure ruby, high quality and red as blood. My heart caught in my throat as I looked down at it just lying there. Everything inside of me told me to just let it be, to leave it in the trash and not dredge up old demons. I hadn’t seen that earring in ten years, had intentionally misplaced it in an attempt to escape the past.

I remembered the day he gave it to me like it was yesterday, sitting on park bench, my son playing in the sand box a few feet away. His name was Nathaniel and he was the best friend I had ever known. When my marriage fell apart he was there and when I fell apart he put me back together. I had cried on his shoulder and slept in his arms but never taken it to the next level. The day he handed me that pretty blue box with the sexy ruby earrings I knew I had a choice to make, to give him up forever or accept his offer for more. A good person wouldn’t have let this man with a heart of gold get dragged into the mess I had made of my life.

I never said I was a good person.

He helped me put the earrings on and from that day on we were together in every way a man and woman could be. I loved him without caution, for the first time in my life fully trusting someone with my heart. Nathaniel did everything he could to make me and my son Levi happy; he filled in as a father and was better to us than my ex could conceive of being. For once in my life I had found someone who could be my everything.

We lived happily for almost a year, Nathaniel moved into my two bedroom apartment with me and Levi and we stayed at his house in the country on the weekends, everything was perfect, better than I had ever dreamed it could be.

Nathaniel asked me to marry him on Halloween dressed as Prince Charming. Only the Wicked Witch could say no to Prince Charming and that was exactly who I was that night. I cried as I crushed him, telling him I could love him forever but that marriage was out of the question. Marriage ruins everything I wailed as I drove myself back to the city. My heart broke into a million pieces when I saw what I had done to Nathaniel, when I realized I had rejected the only person who had ever truly loved me without question or motive.

I called him a thousand times that night and into the next morning. Finally I could take no more, I didn’t even bother to dress, driving two hours in my pajamas. Nothing could stop me, I need to say I was sorry, wanted to tell him I was wrong. Most of all I just wanted to say yes.

I knew something was wrong as soon as I turned into the driveway. His mom’s car was there; she lived hours away and never visited unexpectedly. When I walked into the house I could hear her sobbing from the living room. The sound was gut wrenching and suddenly I knew. My legs shook as I walked into the room where his mother lay on the couch, tears forming pools in her weathered skin. She looked up as I neared her and uttered the words I had feared, the ones I knew were coming.

“He’s gone, Miranda. There was nothing they could do,” she started to wail and I only caught a few more words as the room spun around me. Drunk driver and wet road was the last thing I heard as the floor rushed up at me.

I awoke two hours later in a hospital bed, hooked up to beeping machines. My son Levi and his dad were beside the bed and when I woke up, Levi squealed and ran to hold my hand. The next few days were a blur of consoling faces and tears. I walked blindly through it all, in a fog of regret and grief.

Nathaniel looked so peaceful in his casket; all I wanted to do was crawl in there with him. I cursed God and fate for taking him from me, all the while a part of me blamed myself. He wouldn’t have been on that road at that time if I hadn’t panicked and ran away from him. My heart broke into a million pieces, the shards piercing me inside. For a moment I considered it, just letting go of this life and going to be with Nathaniel. The little boy crying beside me stopped me though, without me Levi would only have his father and that simply was not good enough for my child.

I had worn Nathaniel’s earrings to the funeral, I took one of them off and placed it beside him and with one last look I turned away.

Levi and I moved to Texas and then onto California within the next two years. I was running from the memories of Nathaniel, running from the guilt that tried to consume me. Day by day it got easier to breathe without him and one day I woke up realizing I hadn’t dreamed of him for the first time in five years.

So now here I am, crying on the bed for someone that would have loved me forever. The old guilt is gone now but in its place is a deep hole that no one will ever be able to fill. With that knowledge I finally put Nathaniel to rest. Taking that one lone earring I put it with my photo albums and decide that I am finally ready to let the past go. Nathaniel would have wanted me to move on.



From first grade through sixth I was a believer in Just Say No and D.A.R.E., two of the keep kids off drugs projects that the government had going in the schools at the time. I made banners for Red Ribbon week, I marched in the parade with my class, I even wrote a poem about how drugs were bad in fifth grade. I truly believed that drugs and drinking were horrid things that I would never do. I grew up in a household that taught me all the bad aspects of the drug culture.

Then I turned 12 and a lot of bad shit happened to me that I won’t rehash here. Let’s just say I started 7th grade with some major issues, memory loss being the least of them. I got drunk for the first time that summer and awful things happened which only reinforced my belief that drinking was bad which should have kept me from doing it….except it didn’t.

I started drinking heavily (for a 13 year old anyway) and huffing pretty much everything I could get my hands on in 7th grade and by that summer I was on a downward spiral that nearly ended in death. I just wanted to go to sleep forever and after taking every pill in my house I almost succeeded in making that a reality. For weeks after that I was numb. I just wanted to drink or huff myself into a stupor and be left the fuck alone by everyone, which was kind of hard to do since I needed people around who could get me drunk or keep me from hurting myself after huffing.

Then one day Susan came over and brought marijuana. I was hesitant at first, although looking back I have no idea why weed would scare me when I had huffed acetone and paint. Somehow actually lighting something and smoking it seemed worse to me but I was a kid and peer pressure won out. It was one of the best moments of my entire life.

Suddenly I was high and everything in my life was okay. The soul sucking depression went away; the need to hurt myself in every way possible went away. I was free from my inner demons and for the first time in months I laughed, truly laughed the way a teenager should. The past didn’t matter when I was high, my emotions didn’t overwhelm me and I just wanted to think about now instead of all the bad things that had happened before. I lived in the moment when I was stoned and that was the most awesome feeling in the world for me.

I stopped drinking so much after that and started stealing my dad’s weed, walking to the park to smoke with whomever was there and alone if I had to. I would swing and play on the slides like I should have been doing all along. For the first time in my life I felt like a kid with no worries or responsibilities.

A lot of people think that marijuana is some horrible thing that will lead you to doing things that you wouldn’t ordinarily do. They’re right but not in the way they think they are. Weed let me be a kid and lifted the weight of the world off my shoulders in a time that I desperately needed it. Mary Jane was my friend when I needed her and has been ever since.

I know this is my second marijuana blog in a relatively short period of time but Julie Says... made this our topic for A*New*Day. this week and after reading her blog Mary Jane, She Changed My Life. (with pics) - A*N*D 11 I couldn't resist telling the story of my first time.

What's your story? Did you and MaryJane have a first time or have you managed to resist her charms up until now?

How would you react to a 13 year old you know smoking weed?

Has anything I have said about marijuna on either of my blogs changed your mind or opinion of people who smoke weed?

LANE xxx adults only

He was perfect in his imperfections. Lane was first man to make me smile in a long time. I had tried to break away from him but something kept drawing me back.

True love?

Pure lust?

Either way I would find out if I could break the spell tonight. If a night of complete debauchery with him didn’t get him out of my head I just might have to kill him.

I had met Lane at work and ever since that first time he smiled at me I wanted him. He lit up my life in way I was completely unprepared for. Divorced twice and a single mom of two, I had my hands full just handling my day to day life, with him on my mind all the time I was starting to fall apart a little. I never really asked him how he felt although even after 6 months of talking, flirting and laughing with each other I still wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted anything more than friendship and a benefit or two.

I shook off all the doubts and thoughts of potential complications, one thing I knew for sure was that I was going to enjoy tonight. I had dressed just for Lane, pig tails and a tiny school girl outfit that barely covered my white cotton panties. The white shirt was unbuttoned nearly to my navel and my breasts pressed against the material straining to be free.

Lane opened the door of the hotel and his eyes nearly feel out of his head. He pulled me in the room and kissed me hard, rougher than the few gentle kisses we had shared in the past. My lips ached as he plundered my mouth with his tongue. His hands roamed my body, tweaking my nipples before sliding down and under my skirt to cup my ass. I moaned and threw back my head as he nibbled and bit his way down my throat.

His mouth found my nipples through my shirt and I pulled my shirt back to give him better access. His teeth sank into one nipple and then the other, suckling me and making me squeal. Lane raised his head, his blue eyes meeting mine as he pushed me against the door before dropping to his knees in front of me.

He lifted the tiny plaid skirt and pressed his face to my damp panties, inhaling like he had discovered the most wonderful scent in the world. He nipped at my lips through my panties and I spread my legs to give him better access. Lane worked his fingers inside my panties to stroke at my silky lips, I gasped, quivering at his touch.

Lane stripped the thin cotton off me and spread my lips wide, exposing my throbbing nub to his probing tongue. After a few flicks my clit was swollen and my pussy twitched, eager to be filled. Lane slid one finger and then the other deep inside of me, rubbing my Gspot while never letting go of my clit.

The first wave of orgasm hit me and I held Lane’s shoulders, fingernails digging in to keep my legs from failing me. My hot juices ran down my thighs and all over Lane’s face and I felt him shudder and groan, his face still pressed to my hot cunt.

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes for a moment. I needed to catch my breath, my heart felt like it was going pound out of my chest. I felt Lane stand and when I opened my eyes he was completely naked, his thick cock throbbing in front of me. He was slowly stroking himself, even his large hands unable to completely cover it.

Dropping to my knees I opened my mouth and let Lane guide himself in. I sucked every inch he fed me until I had his entire cock in my mouth. He slowly fucked my mouth, building a rhythm that I could meet, careful to learn my limits. I ran my tongue along the bottom of his cock with every thrust, swirling around the tip when he pulled almost all the way out.

He swelled in mouth as he started to go faster, holding my pigtails to keep my head in place. I tasted a few drops of cum before I pulled away from him. He looked down at me and when I pointed to the bed he let go and helped me stand.

Even after all that we just stood at the foot of the bed, our breathing ragged but neither of us wanting to be the first one in.

I turned him to face me and pushed him down, straddling him as soon as he was on the bed. Lane just looked up at me as I slid my wet pussy up and down his cock, letting the tip slide in before pulling away. Reaching between us I pressed him against me as I made his cock rub my clit. He started squirming underneath me trying to slip inside my warm box and I smiled down at him.

“Tell me what you want.” I said, letting him inside me one inch.

He looked puzzled as he thrust his hips trying to push his trembling cock inside of me.

“What. Do. You. Want?” I punctuated each word with a flutter of my damp walls. I clenched my pussy around him as I waited for him to answer. It only took him a few seconds to answer once he realized that answering was the key to a magnificent finish.

“I want you, it’s always been you.”

With this I slid all the way onto his dick and rode him hard. I held onto his chest as I impaled myself onto him again and again. His cock filled me completely as I ground my hips into his, my twat gripping him tight as a wave of pleasure hit me. I threw my head back and came, screaming his name as Lane thrust up into me hard and fast.

I held on to his arms as he grabbed my hips and pounded my pussy. I groaned as the feel of his hot cum deep inside me sent me into another orgasm. My body went limp and I fell against Lane’s chest.

I awoke a few hours later, my face still pressed to the soft curls covering Lane’s chest but this time I was curled against him under the covers. He held me as he slept a small smile on his face I had never seen before.

Aww, hell, it could be love, I think. I groan a little but the smile on my face tells the real story. I drift back into sleep cuddled against him.


Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.---William Congreve

I am angry.

I have planned where I will bury the body.

What’s worse is I have told him about it.

As I sit here waiting for him to come in the door I can’t help but wonder if maybe this will be the one night he doesn’t come home. I can’t figure out if him missing one last night with me would upset me or relieve me.

Him just moving away and leaving me alone would probably cure this incessant, all consuming need for his death. There would definitely be less chance of jail time if he took me seriously when I called him at work to tell him he was going to die tonight.

But if he just went away he would get the chance to be happy. A cackle escaped me as I thought about this. No, he couldn’t be happy, I thought, being happy would be too good for scum like him.

Tires in the driveway made me jump. An evil smile tugged at my lips as I prepared to meet my darling hubby at the door like a good little wifey. It didn’t matter that I had been awake with the children since 5 a.m. or that I hadn’t sat down once since getting home from work at 6 after working all day. Dinner was cooked and ready, clothes folded and put away and none of that mattered one bit to him. If I wasn’t standing at the door to greet him it was the end of the fucking world.

For once I didn’t mind waiting at the door like a good little bitch. I wouldn’t mind at all when he breezed through the door 3 hours late and reeking of stripper fumes.

Chad came in and gave me a hug and per usual his tie was askew and his eyes glassy. He wobbled a little when he tried to step away from the iron grip I had around his neck. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

Chad could be perceptive when he wanted to be.

“Did you think I was joking when I said I was going to kill you?” I asked him as I pressed the taser I had in my hand against his thigh. I let go just in time for him to hit the floor, quivering and screaming like he had been shot. When he finally stopped twitching I leaned down and hit him again this time aiming for his balls.

His back arched as he bucked around on the floor, his mouth opening in a silent scream. I hold the taser against him until he passes out, finally.

He wakes a little while later, duct taped to one of the Victorian kitchen chairs I had spent months refinishing to match his grandmother’s table. He never even noticed what I was doing, even when my hands would bleed from the sanding. Just one more reason he deserves what he is about to get.

“Chad…..Chad, wake up.” Standing in front of him I give his face a little slap to bring him fully conscience. His big brown eyes look up at me and for a moment he is confused, then the realization hits him, the memories of me greeting at the door swim to the surface and I see him shudder. He tries to speak but the ball gag he bought me for Valentine’s Day prevents that.

“Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time to wake up and play,” I singsong this to him while standing over him. The look of pure horror on his face is priceless. I wish I could take pictures but that cannot happen.

His face contorts around the shiny red ball, the leather straps bite into his face. He is trying to speak but after 10 years I think he has said enough. It is my time to talk.

“Do you want me to let you go?” I ask. He nods vigorously but I ignore him. Giving him false hope that this can lead to anything other than his demise is cruel.

I like it.

I pull out a piece of paper from my jeans. This is just one of my many lists. I have grocery lists, PTA lists, soccer game lists and phone trees. Most of them are things I wish I could just throw in the trash and never see again. This one is special though, a list of wrong doing and transgression starting over a decade ago.

“You, Chad Green have been bad, very bad. This piece of paper lists all of your misdeeds. I’ll read them and you nod your head if they are accurate. Maybe if you play well you will walk out of here. If you don’t well…..” I let my voice trail off as I straddle the chair that faces him.

“#1. You ignore your wife and kids.”

He nods quickly.

“#2. You don’t appreciate your wife and all she does for you”

Again a quick nod, the sweat beading on his forehead.

We went on like this for a few minutes, no terrible things on the list made him agree all the more quickly, Chad’s shoulders had relaxed and he was starting to look comfortable.

“You are sadistic. Only a man who was a sadist would make his wife have anal sex almost exclusively even when she doesn’t want to.”

This one did not get a nod. Chad looked constipated, his face scrunched up as he tried to speak, to argue. I let this one go though. One minor disagreement in a marriage isn’t that big of a deal.

“You are a chauvinistic pig who thinks that having sex is all about you. You are a sick freak who enjoys doing things to your wife that you know she hates. You bought your conservative wife a ball gag as a gift. ”

Chad just stared in almost the same way I had when he handed me what I thought at the time to be a dog’s chew toy.

“You have lied to your wife for years about how much money you have just so she will keep driving a broke down piece of crap car with no A/C, while you ride around in a Lexus saying that your company paid for it.”

He tried to deny this, whipping his head from side to side. A vicious slap across his face is all he gets before I continue on. We are nearing the end and I don’t want to give in to my need for revenge until we are done.

“You spend thousands of dollars on skanky whores who do nothing for you except grind their fish flavored crotch against your miniscule penis.”

Again he wants to argue, to spew his lies and eventually as he always does, somehow make this my fault. A hard kick to his knee with the steel toed boots I bought just for this occasion makes tears roll down his face.

“Shut up, you sniveling ingrate. I know where you have been, I have seen you there myself so don’t try to lie to me cocksucker.” Another kick to the knee and I move on.

“Last but not least, you planned to leave your wife and children, penniless and homeless while you run off to the Caribbean to live with the slut you have been not-so-secretly fucking behind your wife’s back. You think it is okay to just go wherever your dick leads you, you think it is alright to throw away a decade of devotion and subservience on the first hot twat to look your way. You think because she enjoys drinking and fucking til the sun comes up that she is perfect for you. You don’t even realize she is closer to your daughter’s age than yours you self serving bastard. You did not give a thought to your wife when you cleaned out the bank account and booked your flight. You didn’t care about the kids when you stopped paying the mortgage 8 months ago. All you cared about was getting your dick sucked by a big titted blonde on the beach.”

That’s it, the end of my list. I feel a sense of relief that I got to say all of that without interruption. Chad is thrashing around, grunting, doing everything he can to get my attention. I just ignore him and go about my business.

Taking a box from the closet I turn towards him. The box buzzes, sounds of a hive coming to life. I slit a whole in the top and walk away, nature will finish him off. Grabbing my suitcase from the hall closet I give a little wave as his body is covered in furry yellow and black bodies. His face is already swelling as I close the door behind me. I always thought he was just being a pussy when he said he was allergic to bees, now it’s time for truth and tell.

A few hours later I am back to finish what I started. The blonde bitch has been taken care of, it will look like a robbery gone wrong. As I open the door I see that Chad managed to flip over the chair he was sitting on. He isn’t breathing and I smile thinking he was telling the truth. I cut through the tape quickly and roll him up in the sheet that I had laid across the shining hardwood. His bloated body is awkward but I manage to drag him to the car and into the trunk without anyone seeing me.

After dumping him the woods, in the shallow grave I made for him I return home. I take a shower and go to sleep, drifting off with a smile on my face. The exterminator will be here early to get rid of the bees.

When my husband doesn’t come home from his business trip I call the police. They take pity on me, a frumpy housewife with a philandering husband. They are gentle with me as they tell me of his infidelity and how his trip to the Caribbean didn’t have anything to do with business. Everything went perfectly, the only thing that deviated from my plan was the robbery gone wrong. I couldn’t have ever imagined they would think Chad was responsible for the whore’s death. They never found the man I hired to take a trip to the tropics for me and the case went cold for lack of evidence.

A few years later and 50 pounds lighter I watch my daughter walk across the stage at school. The kids never really missed their dad or question that one night when they spent the night with their friends on a school night. In some way I think they too are relieved by their father’s disappearance. If they suspect my part in it they have never said a word.

Whenever I have my doubts about what I have done, I take down the ball gag from the top of the closet and look at his teeth marks in it. It always makes me smile.


I’m not sure where I fall in the generational letters, somewhere between X and Y I would think although I can’t find anywhere on the net that defines it to a conclusive year. I was born in 83 and most of my early childhood was filled with MTV and the internet in its infancy. For the sake of argument I will define myself as Generation XY.

There are a lot of people out there with opinions about the people of my generation and most of them don’t even know us. They see us in the news and it’s usually something bad. They see the statistics that show we used drugs, got pregnant and drank before we were ever out of high school and they write us off as the lost generation…. maybe they aren’t so wrong.

Most of my friends and I never had a lot of teaching about morals and values growing up. We were spoiled and ignored to the point that we didn’t have any respect for our parents. We knew we could get what we wanted if we just whined a little more. Our parents had been raised by tough people in the 60’s and 70’s and had sworn that there kids would have it better than they did and so they gave us what we wanted rather than what we needed. My parents were poor and I still had more than kids from 20 years before and way more than my parents would have ever thought to ask for in their teens.

So we grew up, getting what we wanted, suffering few consequences and convinced we knew everything. Being classy and civil was for old people who never got any attention. We were proud, very loud and a force to reckoned with, anyone who stood in our way was bound to get knocked down and walked over. Some of our parents were essentially big children themselves and tried to be our friends, more than our guardians and protectors.

Some of us grew up too fast, drugs, sex and alcohol killing our innocence way too soon We saw our friends die from pure childish recklessness and still thought we were invincible. Then we turned 18 and were thrust into reality with little ceremony and no idea how to function in the real world. Everything we had learned so far had only taught us that someone would be there to catch us when we fell and that we didn’t have to really try at anything, we simply had to cry about it long enough and someone would give us what we wanted.

I see people my age all the time who are still living at home, some with children of their own, who have no idea what they want to be when they grow up even though we are on the downward slope to 30 and middle age. If their parents won’t take care of them they find someone or something that will. Welfare and the government pick up the slack when actual people won’t step in and help continue to raise these overgrown children.

We have been set up for defeat, either exposed to reality too soon or sheltered from it to the point of it being a handicap. We are crass, tactless and bold with little respect for anyone, even ourselves. Fuck buddies and hook ups are the only way we know how to interact with the opposite sex. The concept of dating is so foreign to us that we scoff at the idea. Love is something we all want but we haven’t learned to love ourselves and therefore find it hard to have a relationship. Failure is unacceptable so we don’t even try.

How do we get beyond the decay of our generation? How do we get away from the sense of entitlement we were raised in? With our country falling apart at the seams will my generation ever buck up and meet the challenges? Will we dissolve what it took 200 years to build due to lack of motivation?

I don’t have any answers and that is most of the problem with the people who have come of age in the last decade. We were taught to question everything but never taught how to find the answers for ourselves. Only time will tell whether we ever will.

MEN-ogamy's more like MEN-ogamy.

.. ..

*these are just my opinions. I looked for answers to back up my opinion but everyone differs on this*

Monogamy is bullshit made up by men to keep women in line and under control. I really believe that this is how it started. Before we as a people formed societies one day a cave man saw his cave woman talking to another better looking cave man and got jealous. He came up with the idea that if he told her it was bad to do that and 2000 years later we have monogamy.

That may not be what happened exactly but it’s a theory and that’s all anyone seems to have. Apparently some scientists believe since males are large and hairy and women have boobs to attract the opposite sex that we were meant to use these assets to attract as many different mates as possible. They may be onto something there but every opinion I read is different.

.. ..

The most common thread in the non-monogamy group of people seems to be that we are just animals and since most animals don’t mate for life we probably don’t naturally either. I don’t know much about all that. I’m sure someone could come up with a theory to prove that wrong and then another to prove them wrong and so on and so forth.


Here’s why I think the way I do.

.. ..

Women of today are different than they were 2000 years ago when we were subservient to men because we needed the men to bring home the bacon, both literally and figuratively. Few women rose to power and were allowed to make laws. For the most part women were viewed as property and just like land or cattle; men did not want other men on their property. Here comes monogamy.

.. ..

The Church (controlled by men) tells everyone that lust is evil, having sex with more than one man is bad and if they don’t do exactly as they’re told they will burn in eternal hellfire. The church completely ignores the fact that the men are going out raping and pillaging. They’re men and they can do what they want to because they are more powerful of mind and can handle their lusts. Women are simple creatures who need to be told what to do.

Fast forward a couple hundred years and we have the Puritans ready to outcast a woman for showing her ankles. Their society (controlled by men) labels any woman who is not chaste and pure as evil and damaged goods. Men of course still do what they do; they’re just quieter about it at that time.

.. ..

Pre-civil war and women are still property being married off to the highest bidder and there had better be blood on the sheets on the wedding night. No one says a word to the men who go to the whorehouses or have a darkie bed warmer but women are expected to be genteel with no interest in sex except for reproduction. Women are expected to ignore the fact that we have quite a few light skinned children running around the slave quarters.

Not a lot changed between 1860 and 1960, other than getting to vote….for men. Sure some women managed to be sexual without being complete social outcasts but for the most part women were still expected to maintain an air of purity. When an unmarried girl got pregnant though it was still seen as she got “herself” in trouble, the guy who got her that way either didn’t own up to it or married her just because that was what he was supposed to do.

The sexual revolution in the 60’s changed a lot of the way the younger generation thought. Women burned their bras and went to college to get degrees instead of husbands. We marched and protested and proved we were just as good as the boys. We *gasp* wore pants and didn’t need a man to take care of us any longer.We married for love and no longer held our virginity hostage, a prize to be won or bartered for. Love was what would sustain us and see us through and sometimes that love was fleeting and we took what we could from it. Sex was no longer taboo and our vaginas no longer sacred.

Forty years later and here we are. Women are free to express themselves sexually and the one’s who can’t or won’t are considered frigid. Women on average have 4 sexual partners over the course of a lifetime and men are down to only 7. Personally I don’t know of many women who have slept with less than 10. Most people I know had reached the "average" by the end of high school. I know I had.

Now that we have conquered our sexual fears and everyone is doing it so to speak, cheating is still considered bad. Monogamy is still seen as the social “norm” even though almost no one can say that they have been monogamous in every relationship. The people who have been faithful admit to flirtations and temptations, for the most part. Everyone knows someone who has cheated at some point.

.. ..

Men used to be seen as the one’s who cheat but when 30% of paternity tests prove that the “father” is not actually the one who fertilized the egg it leads me to believe that women have just as hard of a time staying monogamous as men. It also makes me think that all these years of having to play the pure, chaste and virginal little woman is finally coming back and bitch slapping men.

What do you think? Do you think that monogamy is outdated? Do you think men created it just to make sure the children they were raising were theirs? Or do you (like me) think men labeled sex as bad and monogamy as good because they knew when we found out what fun it was we wouldn’t be as subservient as we once were?


I was a child bride. I didn’t always think of it that way. I thought of it, at first, like I was a woman embarking on my life as an adult and then later as a stupid mistake. Now I know that it wasn’t just MY moronic decision. Some of the blame has to be placed on my mother who was an idiot and signed the remaining years of my childhood away like they were nothing.

.. ..

It was my choice so I don’t get a lot of sympathy from it. 16 is still a child in every way that matters and I was married months before I was 17. I had no driver’s license, no education. I had never lived anywhere except with my parents or my husband. My husband had lived with my parents and me for over a year, since I was barely 15. When my dad said that ....Chad.... had to go I went with him and initially everything was fine. The summer I was 16 I had an apartment, a job and anything I wanted to do, I did….then the threats started.

.. ..

My mother would call or come by on a daily basis, always threatening to make me come home. I would have done anything to keep from moving in with her again. She had made my life thus far pure hell. She threatened me with the police, she said she would charge ....Chad.... with statutory rape and I was scared. I didn’t know at the time that the police could not make me come home, not in my state. The things I didn’t know would have made an encyclopedia look like light reading. So I asked my mom to let me get married and despite all her protests about us living together she readily signed the papers, without even consulting my dad.

.. ..

That’s how I ended up married before I could legally purchase cigarettes or do virtually anything an adult could do. My husband now had to sign my permission slips at school. In all honesty, if I could go back 10 years I would slap some sense into 16 year old me. I would have listened if anyone would have tried. I was a smart kid who felt trapped, had anyone offered me another way I would have taken it gratefully.

.. ..

I don’t think about that marriage often. I have enough drama with the current one to keep me occupied with current events rather than the past that is dead and buried. Last night though I watched a show called the Secret Lives of Women: Child Brides and it made me think long and hard about that two year debacle I call my first marriage.

.. ..

On the show you see what people think of as the typical child bride. Girls sold into marriage by their parents, yes, this still happens even in ....America..... There were girls who were having their first child at 13, who had met the love of their life when they weren’t even in junior high. Most of them were poor and rural, chained to the backwoods of ....America.... by poverty and lack of options. All of them who had gotten married in the last two decades needed their parent’s permission and without fail they all signed away these young girls’s childhood, thinking for some reason that it was the right thing to do.

.. ..

I can tell you from experience it is never the right thing to do. If your daughter gets pregnant at 12 years old she needs counseling and the support of her parents, not a veil and wedding ring. If your child runs away to be with her much older lover you call the police, not the notary public. Anyone who signs for their child to be married or, even worse, encourages it, should be charged with neglect and abuse. There is no reason for someone under 18 to be married. Personally I think the minimum age should be 21, 25 if the lawmakers could get away with it. If it is true, everlasting love then it will wait on you to be able to sign the marriage certificate.

.. ..

Laws should be passed and enforced to keep this from happening. Young girls should be taught that marriage is not to be entered into lightly and that any man who tries to marry them before they are out of high school WANTS to marry a child and anyone who wants to do that should be in jail, not at the altar. My situation turned out better than a lot of child brides, better than most on the show. I didn’t have three or four kids by the times I was 18 and by then I had wised up and kicked the lying bum I married to the curb. The damage however was done and my childhood was gone. In trying to recapture it I did get pregnant and not by my husband. 7 years later I have a son and a daughter and my plans and dreams went out the window.

.. ..

I wouldn’t be where I am today if my mom hadn’t signed those papers. I would have finished school. I would have gone to college. I would have been something before I was a wife and mother. Or maybe I wouldn’t have but at least I wouldn’t have my mother to blame and she would be so very grateful for that. For anyone who has a daughter, trust me when I say she will blame you when it fails and failure is just a matter of time for children who get married and expect to be able to play house happily ever after.


I met her late one night while trolling the internet. She was on a blog telling someone he was nothing more than a half wit and should really consider late term abortion...for himself. I read all of her blogs, all 305 of them and learned so much about her. So much it was scary to me because if I felt like I was reading my life but without all the horrid things that accompanied my tragic existence.

Her name was Amaryllis and she was born to a child-like, alcoholic father with anger management issues and a co-dependent, naive mother. She endured their fights with an on-looker’s attachment and a clinical fascination once she was old enough to understand that the fighting was the only thing keeping them together. She rebelled by being perfect, being an ideal student and taking people pleasing to an extreme.

By the time Amaryllis turned 12 she felt and appeared to be a woman. She met a much older man that spoke to her like she was an adult and she wanted him to like her. He fascinated her with his carefree lifestyle. Amaryllis, with her submissive nature and quiet personality, had never met anyone who simply did not care about what he was supposed to do. She dressed sexy to make him pay attention because she was well read enough to know that she could fascinate men with her perky, gravity defining chest and softly rounded curves. He of course saw what she was doing and told her no. In spite of his free nature he knew better than to take advantage of a child.

Instead of taking what she offered freely he told her to save herself for someone she cared about. He told her she was beautiful and some guy would be lucky to have her but he was too old for her and no matter how much he wanted to touch her, to have her, he could not do that to her. Amaryllis credits him with changing her views on men.

Amaryllis was mad about the rejection but she knew that she couldn’t show it. It would make her look childish and petty so she just stopped going around that family and broke up with the boy who lived there that she was dating. When school started back that year Amaryllis went to a whole new school. A smaller school allowed her hidden rebel to emerge and she became a hit with the students there. Schoolwork came naturally to her, leaving plenty of time for socializing. Her parents did not mind Amaryllis being gone all the time since it left them to pursue their love of drinking and fighting without a 12 year old telling them they were acting like children.

Her new life involved softball games and dancing with older boys until midnight. Her parents hardly knew where she was at since they let her rely on her friend’s parents to take and supervise her. They didn’t notice that sometimes other people, mostly men and boys old enough to drive brought her home. They didn’t notice the nights that she didn’t come home until much later than normal. Amaryllis wasn’t doing anything wrong those nights though. Unlike a lot of girls Amaryllis didn’t throw herself at boys. She would let them kiss her but nothing further. The rejection from the first man she had attempted to seduce she was very shy when it came to sex, fearing further rejection. She knew that the boys wanted to do more but she always said no, preferring conversation in an attempt to understand the purportedly stronger sex.

In high school Amaryllis was on the debate team, in the drama club and making straight A’s. She was even in the chorus, lip synching her way through most songs since her singing voice left lots to be desired. She was a perfect student, never causing trouble but always vocal when it came to debates in class. Her friend’s loved her but thought she needed to lighten up. They loved the wild side of Amaryllis that came out when she drunk or high. She so rarely partook in what they considered typical teenage behavior that some people wouldn’t believe she had ever done anything at all though. Sometimes they wondered if she wasn’t secretly religious or something but she was so nice to everyone and took such care of them when they imbibed too much that they never held her straight laced behavior against her. She was definitely the mother of her group of friends.

By the time college was over Amaryllis was completely independent of her parents and had no debt due to a full scholarship. She had never seriously dated anyone and never really taken up drinking as a past time. Instead of being a typical co-ed she volunteered her time with children and the homeless and she had a lover who was in his early 30’s, a businessman who had pursued her for months before she gave in. She loved the sex, the freedom it gave her to submit completely to a man she trusted implicitly; still she had no desire to commit to him legally or permanently.

She went into social work while writing in her spare time. Amaryllis advocated for abused and neglected children with a passion that her co-workers had lost within their first months on the job. In spite of her love for children and her adamant defense of them she knew she wanted none of her own. Her 26th birthday present to herself was a tubal ligation and a trip to Europe, not at the same time of course. By October of the same year she published her first book, an apocalyptic drama set in 2099.

I cried when I finished reading about her. She was me, had I not made the choices I did; had I not had the people who took advantage of me and used me in my life. Instantly I knew we could never be friends. Even if we both loved rock music and think politicians are the root of all evil I could never tell her my life story. I couldn’t tell her what could have happened had she changed just a few decisions, if she had just made a mistake here or there that her life would be mine. It would mortify me to let her see herself in me and be grateful for the choices she made.

I closed the browser without book marking the page and tried to forget her face. I swore I would not search for her. Sometimes though, late at night, when the kids are in bed and the day has been particularly rough I go and find her and see what I could have been doing lately.


She stares at the destruction around her. Tables flipped over and a lamp broken on the floor. The kids ask her what is wrong and she chokes out “nothing” through gut wrenching sobs. She’s dead inside, soul bleeding, heartbroken and no longer able to deny the truth. She is that woman, the abused one, the unloved one. She has no fight left in her so she answers the phone and when he says he’s sorry, she tells him it’s okay. Even as she wishes she was dead, she reassures him that it’s okay.

She has things to do so she uncurls herself from the cocoon she has made. Her arms ache from holding herself and the tears don’t stop; still she pushes on. Picking up the pieces of their shattered life, gluing together what she can, throwing out the things broken beyond repair. Her heart hurts almost as much as her head and she lights a cigarette to calm her nerves.

One kid on the bus and the other is watching TV. Both of them know that this is just the way life is. Daddy likes things a certain way and it is best not to get in his way of having those things done. They don’t understand why Mommy’s crying, why she can barely hold her head up from the pain inside. Asking why Daddy is mean just makes Mommy cry harder.

Friends don’t see the abuse, as sporadic as it is. They see a happy couple with a few problems, nothing that couldn’t be solved. They can’t see the rage in his eyes when he screams and tells her she is nothing because she does nothing….for him. She is useless and worthless because his house is not perfect; his kids actually speak to him when she should keep the occupied and away. He sees her sleeping and it enrages him, the fact that she didn’t leave work until well after midnight does not even begin to matter to him. It’s 5 a.m. so he screams and belittles her until she crawls out of bed, tears falling before she’s fully awake.

She tries to fix her face, her eyes swollen from the crying, nose red and raw from the tears that ran down it. She promises her reflection that it won’t happen again. That she won’t stand for her children having to watch their mother beat down by their father, the fight taken out of her.

Her promises mean nothing though, because she will stay and things will be better. For a day, a week and maybe a month, things will be good. He’ll be sorry so he’ll try to do better, he’ll promise the world to her and she will smile and act like she believes him. In her heart she knows there will always be a “next time” and her head tells her to leave, that it’s abuse. Society wants bruises and black eyes, maybe even a broken arm or two to be able to label it that way though and those don’t happen anymore. He only hurts her inside so he doesn’t have to face the scars he leaves, doesn’t have to admit what a monster he can be.

She dies inside as she see her life pass before her eyes, she sees the bitter woman she will become. The fun loving happy side of her will die slowly, fighting to the end. But flowers don’t grow without sun and the soul cannot flourish in a state of fear and conflict.

Staring at the girl in the mirror, she swears one day, some day….but knows in her heart that day will never come. She accepts a fate that no one should ever have to face.


. ..

I walked into his house without knocking. If he hadn't wanted me there he would have locked the front door. Tonight was three years in the making and he wanted this just as bad as me.

His name was Kyle, six foot two with a big green eyes and a little boy grin. I melted the first time I saw him and when I saw him last week nothing had changed. No matter how long we stay apart it all comes back and we both know we have unfinished business. When I heard his voice behind me saying "hey sexy" my heart fell to my knees and I turned 6 shades of red.

All week there was a flurry of text messages, hidden notes and ..midnight.. phone calls. We couldn't stop flirting even to drive, which may have resulted in a minor fender bender but I was so caught up in Kyle I didn't care. He gave me a break from the monotony that is my life and for that alone I was falling for him fast. He didn't have much else to offer other than killer looks and the promise of great sex but he made me giggle like a school girl and that was enough.

When he told me that he would be at home and alone tonight I knew exactly what he wanted and I was more than willing to give it to him. I left work early to prepare and I primped for a while knowing tonight might be the only night we would have. Dressing in my sexiest panties, a corset and garters I felt more alive than I had in a while. I loved the way the smooth silk felt against my freshly shaven pussy and my nipples were perfectly constricted making them tighten into hard buds aching to be touched. My panties were damp before I pulled out of my driveway.

Now that I was actually walking through his house I began to wonder is this was such a good idea. There on his dining room wall was a life-sized portrait of his wife with a big white tiger lying at her feet. I knew about his wife, of course, but I had never actually seen her before. She was gorgeous, long black hair and a curvy, beautiful body. Before I could finish thinking about whether I should turn around and walk away Kyle opened the bedroom door and pulled me in.

He kissed me hard on the mouth as he pushed me onto the bed. His lips were painfully hard on mine and I moaned against them as he bit at my lips. He nibbled along my jaw line and then bit hard into my neck making me scratch at his shirt needing to feel his skin with my hands. I ripped at the buttons making some pop off and hit the floor. Kyle was not being anymore delicate with my dress, he ripped both spaghetti straps down and then pulled my breasts out from my corset licking and sucking on my nipples hungrily.

I was moaning and holding his head to me, my hands buried in his silken hair. My legs wrapped around his hips as he ground his pelvis into mine sending shivers down my spine and making me cry out his name. My dress was pushed around my hips and I could feel his hard cock pressed tightly to my dripping slit. I arched into him wanting to feel his warm skin pressing into me.

"Kyle, please fuck me," I pleaded. He bit my nipple then and I screamed loud. I could feel my orgasm building inside me and I wanted him in me when I came.

I squeezed my hand between our bodies to feel his rock hard erection. Tugging at the zipper I freed him from the confines of his jeans and wrapped my hand around him, squeezing tightly. Kyle gasped and tried to pull away but I held him tightly between my thighs as I slid my hand around him, pulsing my fingers around his quivering shaft.

Kyle tried pulling my panties off but gave up quickly and ripped them instead, shoving them to the side as he pulled back enough to kneel between my legs. Grabbing both my legs he leaned me back until he could rest me on his thighs. With one hand holding my legs in the air he slid his cock into my warm, drenched pussy in one long stroke. He buried himself there and held me in place for a moment. His green eyes stared down into my brown ones and I couldn't look away. He draped my legs over his shoulder and started pounding into me slowly. I tried use my hands to urge him on faster but he pinned my hands to the bed and continued his long, deep thrusts staring down at me the whole time, watching my face as I writhed under him.

His breaths started coming in short pants and I could see sweat beading on his forehead. With a loud moan he pounded into me, deeper than before, making me buck up into him. He still held my hands down as he fucked me harder, making every move count as waves of pleasure rolled through my body. My pussy tightened around him until I could feel every ridge of his cock. It felt like he got bigger with every thrust and as my next orgasm hit me I arched my back and screamed, pushing him into me until he hit my cervix.

Kyle stopped moving and let me ride him, using my hips to fuck him as hard and fast as I could. His cock was still rock hard and I could feel him trembling inside me, holding back from cumming. He took back control and pulled back enough to slam into me one last time, making me scream as I squirted around him, soaking both our thighs.

He pulled out of me but his eyes never left mine as I lay there trembling, the aftershocks rippling through my body making me moan. I heard a noise behind me but didn't look up. I was in pure bliss and nothing could have made me budge. I closed my eyes and drifted off, half asleep.

When I opened my eyes later I saw that I was completely naked and tied to the bed. Someone had moved me so that I was tied to headboard with thick rope. I looked around for Kyle but didn't see anyone.

"Good you're awake. Now I can have my fun," a female voice said from behind the bed making me jump and pull at the ropes uselessly, struggling to see who was talking to me.

.. ..

Kyle's wife came to the side of the bed. She was dressed all in red leather and more beautiful than her portrait. She looked evil and stunning all at the same time. I opened my mouth to speak but she shushed me and I closed my mouth, staring wide eyed at her.

"You didn't think you were going to get away with fucking my husband, did you?" she asked prowling around the bed. "You were just a snack for him. Why would he want chopped steak when he can have filet mignon?"

She was giving this speech as she hiked up her skirt to climb on the bed, straddling my waist. "I encourage him to find stupid little sluts like you that we can both enjoy. Unfortunately we weren't able to get you here before now or this could have all happened years ago."

A flash of silver caught my eye and I followed it as she brought it down to my wrists. For a brief moment I thought she was going to cut the ropes, then I felt the knife cit into my flesh and for the first time I screamed in terror. She worked quickly, slitting both my wrists expertly in seconds and making tiny cuts on my breast and stomach. The coppery scent of blood filled the air and I heard a moan from behind me as the woman smeared my blood into her skin, coating every inch of her bare skin with it.

"Kyle, you had better hurry. I don't think this one is going to last long." I could still hear her but it seemed like she was very far away. Everything was going fuzzy around the edges and I couldn't concentrate. When Kyle came into view I managed to look at him and started to plead with him. A sharp slap to my face stopped my words though.

I could feel my life pouring out of me and I found myself floating above my body, watching as Kyle's wife lay on her back propped up between my legs. Completely naked Kyle climbed on top of her, lapping at her blood soaked skin. I was screaming and thrashing but my body wasn't responding even though I could feel as he thrust inside of her while running his hands over me, pushing more blood to the surface. This seemed to excite him and he fucked his wife hard, shaking my lifeless body as I watched helplessly, unable to do anything as the last of my life's blood drained out onto the silken sheets. The last thing I saw before I lost all consciousness was Kyle pulling out and shooting cum across my body. Kyle's wife rolled over and licked up every drop of his cum, smearing her face into my blood.


I was cold hearted at 21 years old. So many horrid things had been done to me in just over two decades that I didn’t want or need anyone. Needing people was a sign of weakness and I would be damned if I would show that. Never again would I open myself up to be hurt, not at anytime and not for anyone.

The walls I built around myself were high and solid and although a few tried, no one could get close to scaling them. My walls were not only on the outside though, I saved a little of the hatred I felt for humanity for myself. Even I could not get beyond the darkness in my head and I tried to fill the void left by that emptiness with fun and laughter but never love, not for myself and certainly not for the bastard world that had hurt me so horribly.

I surrounded myself with disposable people, people I could care for but who were shallow and self centered enough to not notice that I was not a whole person, who wouldn’t know that there was something missing in me. These people wouldn’t prod into my life too much and none of them had what it took to get close enough to me to make it hard for me to let them go. They were easy to use but I never did it maliciously. I did care for them but never enough to where any of them would have the power to hurt me.

Then I met her. She was beautiful, charismatic and she sucked me into her like a black whole. A black whole has no ill intent; it just is what it is. What she was I still don’t know. Sociopath, bi-polar, demon spawn from hell...names don’t really matter but I called her Mia. Like a thief sneaking up in the dark and leaving destruction behind, she hit me hard, took what little I had and left me cold, colder than I had ever been before.

I didn’t mean to fall for her; I enjoyed my life in spite of the shallowness I kept around me. There were a few people whom I loved to fuck and have fun with and I had my acquaintances to share the gory details of my partying with, I did not need a complication like Mia.

The first time I saw her she was leaning against a pool table, waiting her turn. Her short, spiky brown hair and piercing green eyes met mine from across the bar and for a moment I could feel her in my head. It scared me, the way she looked at me, as if she could see inside of me to a place even I was barred from. The darkness inside of me parted for her and she could see straight through to my bleeding heart that had never healed from the last cruel person to use me up and throw me away.

I left the bar and didn’t return. For weeks I sat home alone, the worst thing for a person who was running from themselves, but I would rather do that than face her and the fact that maybe someone could get inside. The thought of letting someone inside scared me beyond words.

Finally I drew up my pride, reinforced my walls and gave myself a giant helping of Dutch courage and went back. She stood by the doorway as if she were waiting on me even though I knew that couldn’t be true. I walked right past her and could feel her Irish eyes bore holes in my back. I think now, looking back, that ignoring her was the worst thing I could possibly have done. A person like her can smell fear and intimidation a mile away and will use it in whatever way they can.

She cornered me a few hours and several rounds later. I was barely standing by that point, my defenses were down and I was bullet proof so I had no fear. She walked up to me and whispered in my ear.

“I’m Mia. Who are you and why do I want you so bad?” Her words tickled my ear and I couldn’t stop myself from gasping. I have had entire rounds of sex that didn’t make my knees as weak as her breath on my neck.

“I’m Michelle and I don’t know,” I manage to say through a lust filled haze.

She took my hand and led me out of the bar, put me in her car and took me home. We didn’t have sex like I thought we would. We talked. We talked until I was sober. We talked until I had to go to work. We texted and called until I thought my boss was going to fire me, then she picked me up from work and we talked some more.

After a week she knew my life story. She knew about the molestations, the rapes, the drug abuse and any other bit of information I could recall. I loved her because she listened when I told stories, horrid things that most people turn away from. Soon I was hooked on her, if she had been a drug I would have happily overdosed, if she were a train I wouldn’t have bothered to dodge her. Mia broke me down and made herself my world. It was fairly easy to do once she got beyond my walls, I didn’t have much of me to hold onto.

Months went by and I did what I was told. We never had sex but anytime I appeared to be drifting away she dangled herself in front of me, touching me, kissing me until I willingly returned to the fold. I would have done anything for a little affection; she had my heart, my body and even my soul. If she had only asked I would have laid my life down for her.

I gave her every penny she asked for, bought her food, clothes and a car. We moved in together and slept in the same bed even though she denied me the one thing I truly craved, to be completely loved by her. I told her I would die without her and for some reason this made her sad.

When she first started disappearing I thought I had done something wrong, that there was something I could do to bring her back. I called, I begged and I even followed her around like a little lost puppy. Soon it became clear to me though that I had lost her. When she finally confronted me and told me to leave her alone I wailed, pleading with her to just tell me why. My world ended when she finally answered, her eyes the color and strength of emeralds.

“I wanted you and I got you. I own you now.” She looked down at me and looked sad for just a moment. “You no longer interest me; you gave me everything you had to give.”

A part of me died that night, lost in an ocean of pain that was love turned cold. My heart bled and my soul cried out to the Gods for mercy and forgiveness. I had broken my only rule; I had gambled and lost with the last piece of my heart.


I find people interesting. They are fun to watch and observe. Like a scientists with his lab rats I watch, I listen, I learn and occasionally I laugh. People almost unanimously think they are special and important and they are the only ones who have ever experienced that joy, the angst and the apathy that is the human experience. For the most part people are no smarter than the lab rats chasing the cheese because that is what they are programmed to do.

Most people do not examine their lives and never take a good long look inside themselves to see what makes them tick. The things that are obvious to an outside observer are lost on them simply because they never stop and think about what they are doing, they are stuck on auto pilot and no one is at the control to stop them from crashing. They live from day to day and minute to minute without a clue as to why they feel and act they way they do.

The minute one of them tries to break from the pack they are ostracized and torn down by the other rats. They don’t know why they hate and loathe this person who chooses to be different, who chooses to be other than them they just do. They never stop to think that it is fear that kicks their mob mentality into high gear or that maybe the oddball may have it right. They just can’t fathom why anyone would want to be strange or have an opinion that doesn’t jive with the think of the majority.

What I don’t understand is how the mob mentality can reside inside of these people who think they are special? How can one person simultaneously think that they are the only person on earth who has ever loved that hard or hurt that badly when everyone around them thinks in exactly the same way? I don’t get it at all.

I have always been the odd one out. The person who would rather be alone if the only alternative is to be surrounded by braying sheep who don’t have a single unique thought in their fluff filled heads. Somehow I lost sight of that and tried to conform and it didn’t work out so well for me. I used to write just for me because it made me happy. Then I started to worry that what I said would offend someone or make someone powerful angry with me. Now I find that I simply do not care anymore. I am going to start writing and living to please myself. I am the only one who can judge me and that is the way it should be.

I encourage anyone who finds themselves losing themselves to satisfy the idiot masses to take a step back and look at what you are doing. Figure who you are and what makes you happy and if someone doesn’t like it then that is their problem, not yours. You can’t please all the people all the time and I think it is time that we all stopped trying.

Be yourself. You may not be special, you may just be one speck in a crowd of a million but if even one speck would stand up and be heard then maybe, just maybe, we could start a revolution.

You'll either get this or you won't. The people who need to hear it, who want to hear it, will and that is okay with me.


The first time I heard the song “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” it spoke to me, being unbelievably drunk and high at the time probably caused it. Even now when I hear it though the music takes me back, back to those few short months when I was completely free. I miss that time in my life a lot these days.

I was 18 years old, wild and reckless. I would have preferred to be labeled trouble or slut before being called innocent. Life had given me a raw deal and I had sworn off even trying anymore. My life was one long party, months going by that I can’t quite remember through the whiskey soaked haze that I wandered through. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t partake of some recreational drugs. I loved that chaos that was my life, never knowing where or when I might sleep…or who it might be beside.

Lisa and I were inseparable back then and had been for years. If someone saw one of us without the other, people would look at us weird as if we had suddenly lost an appendage. We were best friends through everything and I though we would never be apart. Any life plans we dreamed about included each other. That is something that I can never get back and one of the few regrets that I have in this life.

We didn’t have a whole lot of options when it came to entertainment; being from a small Southern town does have its drawbacks. Go and get drunk, high or laid were our 3 main activities with some shopping on payday. We met boys everywhere, from the gas station to cruising in front of the mall and it wasn’t weird for us to meet someone and sleep over at their house all in the same night. It should have been weird, awful things could have happened but thankfully most of the experiences we had were good.

Back to the song though. It came out when I was 5 and somehow I missed it for 13 years. Probably because it came out when I was 5 so it was off the Top 40 stations by the time I was a music junkie. Back before the internet we actually listened to the local FM station to find new music, if you can imagine that.

I don’t remember exactly how we met Gary. He was older than the crowd we normally ran with, in his early 20’s and he had a job, house and his own car. The car was the best part though, at first. The car, a purple Camaro with a booming system, purple neon lights underneath and black leather seats went so fast we felt like we were flying. . I know it is a stereotypical Southern thing but I love Camaro’s and one that looked like that would never escape my attention. After admiring the car Lisa and I followed Gary back to his place and for the next few weeks it was our home away from home.

Lisa was in love and for the first time in a long time, I actually approved. He really was a great guy and even more important that that, he had a lot of guy friends. I was not in the market for a relationship, having just gotten out of a four year one that had taken over my teenage years. I met a few boys and some men that I felt things for, cared about and would have liked to spend more than a night or two with, but I ran from those guys like they were the devil. Love scared me more than anything else and in some ways I suppose that hasn’t changed much in the least 8 years.

The night I heard Every Rose Has It’s Thorn for the first time we were at Gary’s adopted Dad’s house and we were partying hard. I remember there were a lot of people there, most of their names and faces escape me now although the camaraderie I felt with them burns through me still. Lisa and I had made out for money just to give the boys a thrill. They were young and had never seen two girls kiss like that, and we were beyond broke. It was all harmless fun. As the night wore on and we all wound down, I ended up cuddled up to a cute boy named Steven. He had the prettiest blue eyes and his bad boy grin made me blush. I knew the look he was giving and what it meant. I never even gave a thought to saying no.

We all sat around sipping the last of the whiskey, Steven draining the last few drops from his Goldschlager as we listened to the music, Lisa and I singing along to the songs we knew. . When the first few notes of Every Rose Has It’s Thorn came on everyone stopped what they were doing and paid attention. All of the guys sang along with Bret Micheals and Stephen sang directly to me. Even though the lyrics were about a lost love and Stephen and I were mostly strangers in that moment I loved him with all my heart, we had a connection and bond that felt real, something rare and not to be forgotten.

As we drove to Gary’s house that night, we listened to that song on repeat and held hands like we had something special between us. Later when we were lying in bed together we learned each other’s last names and in the light of dawn the spell woven by song was broken. I saw Stephen a few times after that but we never recaptured the magic that we had the first night. Probably because a few days after that night I found out I was going to be a mother and my whole world changed. There was no longer a place in my life for bad boys and whiskey binges.

I miss my freedom from back then, I miss being able to do whatever I wanted selfishly taking whatever I needed just because it felt good in the moment. Mostly I miss the girl I was, carefree and independent and I wish I had appreciated her more. Knowing it would have all came to an end eventually doesn’t change the nostalgia I feel when I look back. Knowing and feeling are two separate things and sometimes the heart overrides the brain.

William Blake said it well in his poem Auguries Of Innocence:

“To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.”

We should appreciate what we have when we have it, instead of looking longingly into the past. Maybe I would be happier if I remember that more.