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...and so I got fucked anonymously
...and so I got fucked anonymously So I do that. I go to clubs where the fucking is anonymous - I can get lucky there if I am confident and vamp it up, but generally, they want a blow job beforehand before they will consider fucking you. But on Sunday night, there was a group of latino boys in the spa and I guess being young, they had no difficulty getting it up again. So I got fucked on the side on the cold marble of the spa. They fuck me athletically, they don't care who I am, what I look like or anything. They never go down on me, they never carress me or tell me I am beautiful, but I get fucked. Then I move around and sure enough, there is some blonde skinny bird there with her partner, but she is nice and I try to and forget about the skinny blonde babes like her who the guys really wanna fuck and who fall over themselves and wank themselves with the frustration of wanting to fuck them, but still I offer up myself for fucking. But it is too late when I get there and most are fucked out. I watch her while the guys fuck her from behind. I watch her and women like her at other times, watch their skinny arses being pumped. But that night, I looked at myself in the mirror and rate myself on a scale of 1 to 10 as to how fuckable I am. I wonder how many fucking years I have left. I wonder whether I have to make up for years of not being fucked, of not understanding what it is to be fucked, of not having the feeling of wanting to be fucked,but knowing that all these years, all these years I have seen the hot chicks, all the those years, my best fucking years have passed. So, I could have been a hot chick too, like all these woman have been fucked. They have been fucked hundreds of times, probably thousands of times, maybe. I conclude that I am not that fuckable. I am maybe a 4 out of 10. The body is what makes you fuckable. The slim body and the blonde hair and the confidence. My once beautiful face, but now which feels so weary and which I feel sags with the ravages of fighting illness and despair, my thick hair with its greying strands, my large but slightly saggy breasts, my thick thighs, don't count jack in this place. Now, this particular couple always want me to go down on the girl, which I do, but it doesn't happen to me. I move to another "room" and talk and touch a soft cock who is too scared to fuck, he just wants to watch. I look at the cocks who are their with partners and who are happy to let others watch them fuck but who only fuck who they know and who would probably be bad fucks anyway. I do this occasionally. I leave and I go home and I never want to see any of these men again, let alone take their . But I get fucked. I get a good fucking which makes me feel like I am at least a fucking woman. And then I go home to my husband and pretend I was someone where and he is in bed, having waited up for me, but now tired and desperate for a cuddle and so he says he misses me and I kiss him and tell him how much I have missed him too and how much I love him. And so I put the guilt out of my mind, because at least the fucking was anonymous and there were no emotions. But yesterday I log on to the site where Mr Darcy is and I chat to a UK guy and he calls me at home and we have phone sex and I dream about what it is like to be made love to. I have been fucked you see, but no-one has ever made love to me, not in the way I have always envisaged or Romanticised about it. But I just wanted to call him back and cry. Because I imagine no-one will ever make love to me and then the following day, I hear of another announcement of someone who is pregnant. Or, I walk past another pregnant belly on the footpath and I wonder what they are fucking doing right in their relationship, why is their relationship so strong that they can get themselves fucked and pregnant and think they have the capacity to bring a into this world and raise it and I don't - I don't have that capacity, any more than I do to understand advanced mathematics or physics or contemplate other things I will never understand. And I think, what the fuck did I do to be mentally unwell as to not be fucked. What did I do that means that when people say I could not cope with a , because I cannot even care for myself, they are absolutely fucking right. But I cry, I cry for the mother who I will never be. That is all I wanted to do afterwards, just cry. Cry like a fucking girl. So this morning I cried about what I will never have in my marriage and I concluded I can never leave him and I have to cope with not having , just like others do with their disabilities. So fucking what. But another day is not going to be wasted thinking about sex, love, fucking, or any combination thereof. Because I can cope with what this fucking life dishes out. In the end, we all do. But I am not going to get emotionally involved. I cannot dispense emotions anymore and care for people when I am unwell and maybe have someone look after me. At the least, someone should be looking out for my arse. Why do I do this demeaning fucking? I do it because the fucking makes me feel better, it makes me feel like I don't give a shit about anything and also because very soon, I know I will be disappointed and I want to see whether I can get a better fuck and so I feel like getting fucked again. So I wait until I next time I get horny and like a beggar pleading for a buck, I wonder where my next fuck is going to come from. |
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3/27/2007 2:58 pm |
Hi you I read your thoughts after a long, long time. You've taken the words clear out of my mind. I don't want to say things like let me be your friend. You are clearly looking for yourself, not a friend. I wish you all the will and wiles to find yourself Ella. You are so human, you make me feel like one too. love, Woofff
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Woofff is right ella. It sounds to me is if you are a wonderful woman, but the emotions and fears you are stuggling with are what prevent both you and others from seeing the real loving you. (Except I am assuming your husband loves you, even if it is not in the way you want him to...? ) Leaving aside the effect of mental illness, which I don't know enough about, can you find a way to start loving yourself? I mean love yourself like a mother loves her child, even if the child behaves badly. Actually I disagree about the skinny blonde body being what gets you fucked. Well, maybe by shallow men and as a series of one-offs. But it's a woman's mind that many men find really sexy. A presentable body and face to go with it helps, but it seems to me that you have a mind capable of being sexy and lovable, and if you can stop agonising about yourself and be relaxed about who you are and how you want to behave, lots of people will want to make love to you.
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