I need a dick so bad, it hurts. I remember when two cops came to my doorstep. I have panic attack disorder and I had a verbal fight with my aunt, so our

4 years

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I need a d*** so bad, it hurts. I remember when two cops came to my doorstep. I have panic attack disorder and I had a verbal fight with my aunt, so our neighbors reported the noise. It was OK – they didn’t arrest me, nor did they take me to the police station. I wish I was alone. I wish the bigger cop threw me on the floor and fucked me hard. If she wasn’t there, I could have asked him to j******* his c*** or s*** it. I could feel his cockhead fill my mouth, his d*** stretching and filling my p**** as he’s pounding me, and I would scream like a cow. I’d swallow his load. All my life I’ve been a good, conservatively brought up girl. (Here in the Balkans we say “patriarchally”, and it’s not a derogatory term.) But I can’t take it anymore. I’ll probably leave my family, because they don’t deserve to have a w**** daughter. They had to wait for long time until I was born. I don’t want to put shame on them, but I can’t renounce my s***** urges. Maybe they renounce me. As I stated in the earlier post, I’m an adult and it’s time for me to go my own way. Today I’m putting another set of volume eyelash extensions. I want men to know I’m available. So I started wearing tight clothing, high heels and T-shirts with cleavage. My face is like that of a teen girl, but my breasts are big. Well, not as big as my mom’s but still rather heavy. The psychiatrist told my parents that what they have is a girl with a soul of a child, in a body of an adult woman. I’m about to cry. I guess it feels good to let it out this way.

24F

New Confession

I wrote a few days ago about never being comforted by the people who I love and who claim to love me. like most confessions I make here, I often start to reevaluate after I hit submit and will eventually begin to feel more level headed about whatever dramatic confession of emotion I decided to spew. this is not one of those times. I had a procedure today- invasive and painful. i knew it wasn’t going to be comfortable, but then afterwards I got bad news from the results. yeah, as I suspected for a long time, I’ve got cancer in me. pre-cancer, anyway. but the doctor let me know today that considering how young I am and other aspects of my history, I shouldn’t have these huge pre-cancerous growths in me. and I mean huge. how often do you have a doctor look at you and go “wow, that was the largest polyp I’ve ever seen in a 24 year old.” anyway… after this, my boyfriend of 6 years drove me to our house, almost completely all in silence. go inside, no real words spoken. nothing to say about it. any of it. just flops onto the couch and tells me he has a headache. makes me make him food and tuck him into our bed because he ALWAYS flops onto the couch when we get home, and then proceeds to complain about how uncomfortable it is to sleep on it and how sore he is. he at least tells me he loves me, I suppose, but nothing else. I say “I love you more”, like I frequently do, which is supposed to prompt a “No you don’t”, and a short reason as to why HE loves ME more. this time, he just says nothing nothing. nothing nothing nothing. now I get to go upstairs, cook myself a meal after being asked not to eat for 3 days, and then sit alone in my living room with only my thoughts. these f****** thoughts. why do I never get to be the baby. why do I never get to be the one tucked. why do I never get to be the one who gets their back scratched and their hair played with until they sleep. why do I never get asked if I’m okay. it’s like I was open with a disease that makes it so that whenever I’m upset, or hurting, or crying, I give off a noxious gas that makes everybody sick. I hate it here.

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