Day one, I played with her blood, Day two I called it making love, Day three her blood played with me
Rule number 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
He sat across from me and the pipe lay diagonnaly in his palm.
"You the first person I've ever heard say the word with empowerment." and he manipulated the baggie with his fingers.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Like I think of these skanky fucked up chicks that are whoring themselves out, you say it like it's something to be proud of."
"Maybe it is."
"You don't seem sure."
"If I'm not sure, then I'm a fucked up skank. I'd rather be a proud whore than nothing at all."
"Perhaps."
I'm down on the gold coast with speedway74. Weekend is going alright, I've been to my first rockl/ska/goth/hard metal whatever the fuck you call it gigs.
I miss my music. I miss the groomed women and seductive beats. I miss the clubs and the hovering cloak of sexuality. So I left him (sorry Matt) and venture out on my own,
So I'm fucking hurting. I miss my ex like hell. Fuck it, technically at this point in time (this is all written in retrospect) we are together again. I am in no mood for poetic stupid ass shit. Yeah I'm hurting. I'm fucked up and I haven't cried this hard for years.
So I met this dolphin trainer with some theme park down on the coat. He's chiseled, wearing a wetsuit for a costume party, a nice thick uncut cock. I've been having trouble fucking, let alone touching anyone for the last week. My sex drive has gone since I met Mick, not my sex drive altogether, just my drive to fuck anyone and anything that walks in my path. I feel like vomiting when I fantasise about what I used to. I used to masturbate to geting gang raped and beaten and enslaved. Now everything that felt right (which was wrong in the eyes of many) is wrong again.
Maybe It's self worth. Maybe it's just love.
Tonight I go home with chiselled dolphin boy. We fuck, it's boring and I feel like I'm hookinh. Detached, not wet. I',m dry and I sound like a hooker. Not to you, but to me. My moans are different and it's like playing a cd, a litany of porn star moans, groans and phrases. "Oh fuck me harder baby," and all that shit.
Either way, not until later do I realise we are fucking in this guy's friends apartment. So his friend arrives home. With his sister or some wierd ass fucking connection. Basically I had stopped because I couldn't be fucked even touching this guy let alone making him come. I wanted my boy. Our shit sex was fucking insane compared to the multiudes. I'd forgotten. Grass is always greener.
So they start.
"Did you fuck in the bathroom or the bedroom."
"Uh both." Okay I'm fucked, maybe just a little, maybe a lot.
"Your a fucking whore. Get the fuck out of my fucking house. Here's your fucking shit you dirty fucking slut. Who the fuck screws someone after just meeting them whats your fucking problem. Your just a dirty fucking stupid whore." Now the girl joins in with similar original phrases.
I leave, since my shit it on the front lawn.
So I cry. Admission, I cry whenever someone calls me a whore. Every, single time.
Rule no. 1: Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
Mick called me a whore. He threw a perfume bottle into the bath/shower, shattered it and told me the smell would never cover the stench of all the men that had touched me.
So I punched him. I'm passive. I'm quiet. I'm generous. I'm forgiving. I'm anti-conflict.
But don't ever call me a fucking whore.
So I attempted (I'm not that strong) to smash a bottle over his fucking head and then punched him in the jaw. But he stopped. All he knows is violence. sitting there being quiet doesn't do shit. Sp he gave me a left hook to the jaw and dragged me to the floor. I've never been more turned on in my life. I wish he'd hit me harder, but then again, I'm a little fucked up.
Back to the story.
Honestly, when you call me a whore. I want to kill you. See I've never wanted to kill anyone, but saying that word with dispresect changes my mind. See, you of all ignorant fucking judgemental piece of fucking shit, how dare you take my fucking pride and self respect from me.
I will never ever take anyones pride or self respect from them. I don't give a fuck if they work at macdonalds or shift garbage for a living. How dare you fucking dare tell someone that what they are doinbg is worthless, useless and inconsequential./ How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you take someones self respect.
I didn't, I ended up shoeless, phoneless (I'd lost my phone) trampsing bawling my eyes out along unfamiliar streets.
But, But I turned around three times. Every single time to go back to that place, smash the windows until they were broken, grab a knife (nice knives by the way) walk into the room, pull apart that fucking slut from her asshole of a boyfriend, smash her in the mouth, cut his fucking dick from his body and shove it into his fucking mouth. Then I'd love to grab her fucking hair and smear her face into his bloody crotch until she chokes and suffocates. Yeah I'm a tad violent, when I'm provoked.
Rule no 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
I feel better now. Even though I'm still slightly murderous, this little rant has eased it a little. I'm going back home to my boy, who I love. And for the first time, I know that I actually really love him. And sorry beautiful.
Rule no 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
Or I'll kill you.
I've never wanted to hurt anyone before.
But this, is a nice feeling.
Rule number 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
He sat across from me and the pipe lay diagonnaly in his palm.
"You the first person I've ever heard say the word with empowerment." and he manipulated the baggie with his fingers.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Like I think of these skanky fucked up chicks that are whoring themselves out, you say it like it's something to be proud of."
"Maybe it is."
"You don't seem sure."
"If I'm not sure, then I'm a fucked up skank. I'd rather be a proud whore than nothing at all."
"Perhaps."
I'm down on the gold coast with speedway74. Weekend is going alright, I've been to my first rockl/ska/goth/hard metal whatever the fuck you call it gigs.
I miss my music. I miss the groomed women and seductive beats. I miss the clubs and the hovering cloak of sexuality. So I left him (sorry Matt) and venture out on my own,
So I'm fucking hurting. I miss my ex like hell. Fuck it, technically at this point in time (this is all written in retrospect) we are together again. I am in no mood for poetic stupid ass shit. Yeah I'm hurting. I'm fucked up and I haven't cried this hard for years.
So I met this dolphin trainer with some theme park down on the coat. He's chiseled, wearing a wetsuit for a costume party, a nice thick uncut cock. I've been having trouble fucking, let alone touching anyone for the last week. My sex drive has gone since I met Mick, not my sex drive altogether, just my drive to fuck anyone and anything that walks in my path. I feel like vomiting when I fantasise about what I used to. I used to masturbate to geting gang raped and beaten and enslaved. Now everything that felt right (which was wrong in the eyes of many) is wrong again.
Maybe It's self worth. Maybe it's just love.
Tonight I go home with chiselled dolphin boy. We fuck, it's boring and I feel like I'm hookinh. Detached, not wet. I',m dry and I sound like a hooker. Not to you, but to me. My moans are different and it's like playing a cd, a litany of porn star moans, groans and phrases. "Oh fuck me harder baby," and all that shit.
Either way, not until later do I realise we are fucking in this guy's friends apartment. So his friend arrives home. With his sister or some wierd ass fucking connection. Basically I had stopped because I couldn't be fucked even touching this guy let alone making him come. I wanted my boy. Our shit sex was fucking insane compared to the multiudes. I'd forgotten. Grass is always greener.
So they start.
"Did you fuck in the bathroom or the bedroom."
"Uh both." Okay I'm fucked, maybe just a little, maybe a lot.
"Your a fucking whore. Get the fuck out of my fucking house. Here's your fucking shit you dirty fucking slut. Who the fuck screws someone after just meeting them whats your fucking problem. Your just a dirty fucking stupid whore." Now the girl joins in with similar original phrases.
I leave, since my shit it on the front lawn.
So I cry. Admission, I cry whenever someone calls me a whore. Every, single time.
Rule no. 1: Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
Mick called me a whore. He threw a perfume bottle into the bath/shower, shattered it and told me the smell would never cover the stench of all the men that had touched me.
So I punched him. I'm passive. I'm quiet. I'm generous. I'm forgiving. I'm anti-conflict.
But don't ever call me a fucking whore.
So I attempted (I'm not that strong) to smash a bottle over his fucking head and then punched him in the jaw. But he stopped. All he knows is violence. sitting there being quiet doesn't do shit. Sp he gave me a left hook to the jaw and dragged me to the floor. I've never been more turned on in my life. I wish he'd hit me harder, but then again, I'm a little fucked up.
Back to the story.
Honestly, when you call me a whore. I want to kill you. See I've never wanted to kill anyone, but saying that word with dispresect changes my mind. See, you of all ignorant fucking judgemental piece of fucking shit, how dare you take my fucking pride and self respect from me.
I will never ever take anyones pride or self respect from them. I don't give a fuck if they work at macdonalds or shift garbage for a living. How dare you fucking dare tell someone that what they are doinbg is worthless, useless and inconsequential./ How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you take someones self respect.
I didn't, I ended up shoeless, phoneless (I'd lost my phone) trampsing bawling my eyes out along unfamiliar streets.
But, But I turned around three times. Every single time to go back to that place, smash the windows until they were broken, grab a knife (nice knives by the way) walk into the room, pull apart that fucking slut from her asshole of a boyfriend, smash her in the mouth, cut his fucking dick from his body and shove it into his fucking mouth. Then I'd love to grab her fucking hair and smear her face into his bloody crotch until she chokes and suffocates. Yeah I'm a tad violent, when I'm provoked.
Rule no 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
I feel better now. Even though I'm still slightly murderous, this little rant has eased it a little. I'm going back home to my boy, who I love. And for the first time, I know that I actually really love him. And sorry beautiful.
Rule no 1. Don't ever call me a fucking whore.
Or I'll kill you.
I've never wanted to hurt anyone before.
But this, is a nice feeling.
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