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Everybody has a Personal Story to tell, So and You.

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125 ) - Very Sad relationship

My best friend is such a great person but her boyfriend sux. She always thinks he will propose, but he never does. It's so hard to watch a deserving person wasting their life with a playboy.

Saturday, January 01, 2005 at 12:41

124 ) - My amazing weight loss!!

I've always been a little heavy. As a kid, my mom had to shop in the section for fat girls. By high school, I was sewing my own clothes just to not have to wear muumuus. In my 20s, I was 80 lbs overweight as a result of depression and not knowing how to cook properly.

I was desperate for love and got onto an internet chat room for singles. I met a guy "Jason" who I told I was overweight, but I lied by about 40 lbs. He said that he didn't mind that he'd actualy dated several women that were heavier and it was never a problem except sometimes in the bedroom.

After 6 months, Jason and I agreed to meet. I ordered some plus-sized lingerie and read as much as I could about sex online. Then we got together at a hotel in a city halfway between where we both lived. We had a wonderful dinner, but after hitting the sheets things went terribly wrong.

Jason had a decent sized cock (I'd never seen a real one except porn online, but it seemed decent maybe 5 1/2 inches), but my fat kept him from inserting more than the head. I ended up pleasuring him orally. Then he tried pleasuring me that same way, but I was too uptight from fat shame.

I thought it was the end, but Jason said that he wanted me to lose just enough weight that he could fully penetrate me. He said he'd pay for a gym, Jenny Craig, anything.

I went home with the goal of losing at least 40 lbs. By the time, we met the following month, I had lost only 5. But the next month, I'd lost 15. And Jason could get another inch of cock into me. My weight loss continued and I eventually lost 60 lbs and Jason could fully penetrate me.

How did I do it? Masturbation. Everytime I wanted a snack, I pleasured myself instead --even if it meant going into the bathroom at work to finger myself. I bought a vibrator with the money that I saved on chips, cookies, and sodas.

My wieght loss has continued and now I am hoping to lose another 50 lbs to fit into a wedding dress. That's right, Jason proposed!

Friday, December 31, 2004 at 09:28

123 ) - My dream birthday party

I turned 30 this year and looked forward to having a big birthday party. As a lawyer, I make enough money to do it up style so I spared no expense. Two weeks before the party, I sent inviations with precise instructions to 13 close friends. All RSVPed within a day. They were as eager as I was.

The party was held on my parents' ranch in Arizona. They're spending a month in Japan with my sister who just had a baby. The ranch gave me and my guests the needed privacy. Cars started arriving shortly after dark and I personally escorted my guests into the living room. We enjoyed caviar, champagne, and shrimp cocktail as well as high quality sushi. Then the dinner gong sounded and we went into the dining room. Once all 14 chairs were filled, the servers came out.

Each girl lay back on the table and allowed the guest to spoon the dish directly from her open quim. A stunning brunette held salmon mousse in her warm cunny. This is my favorite. I made sure to like her to orgasm before taking a generous helping. Delicious!

I sampled four more entrees before it was time for dessert. Each guest administered an enema to his or her own server and then we left the table while the servers voided their waste. Then the chef filled each girl's clean bowels with a assortment of puddings and dessert creams. When we returned to table, the servers stalked abound the table, squatting periodically over a guest's plate to excrete a serving of yummy dessert.

The night was a complete success. My only wish is that I could have figured out a way for the servers to pass champagne from their bladders. Maybe a cathater system?

Tuesday, December 28, 2004 at 13:58

122 ) - Mom dreams of more

I know this is a post that may or may not get a response. It may seem strange for someone to place a story like this, but it is my only source at this time. I am a single mother of two sons. Good children yes, but being a single parent is very hard. I wish so much to give them more but cannot......I am unable to go back to college because I have no vehicle, unable to get a job due to a panic disorder that always gets me fired for missing even just one day of work. I have always wanted to go to college and get my accounting degree so that I could work from home ( I rarely have any anxiety here). But now that I have lost my job yet again, I am more concerned with when I can find another one so I dont lose my electric or apartment, etc. Which seems to be a battle about every 6 monthes or so. My wish is to hope my boys to grow up with hope, even though they have seen so much disappointment in my life. Lost jobs, lost love, lost ambition, lost dreams, etc. Just once I would like someone to reach out and say, I can help. I am not on welfare nor do I receive disability, I simply save money when I can make it on my better monthes. Am I the only one that lives like this> If so, how do you make it stop being this way?

Tuesday, December 28, 2004 at 12:44

121 ) - My black wife

I'm a cop. It runs in my family back four generations, even since the first Kelley was born on American soil. I've seen a lot of stuff that'll make a man shake his head at the world. About five years ago, my partner and I were sent to the scene of a murder-robbery in the inner city. It was a rough neighborhood and was the first of the month, so some slug had mugged a woman coming home, thinking she had her welfare payment on her. She fought back and ended up dead. My parnter and I got assigned to notify the next of kin.

In the apartment, we found seven kids ranging from fifteen to three years old --now all orphaned. The oldest girl kinds slumped when we told her and then she tried to comfort the littler kids as they gathered their pitiful belongings together before the social worker arrived. I was haunted by her face for many nights afterwards.

A few years later, I had a call in the same neighborhood and it turned out to be the same family. Now 18, the girl had just won custody of her younger siblings and was trying to do right by them. Sadly, her next younger sister had learned bad habits in foster care and at age 14 was running out a night to prostitute herself in exchange for alcohol and weed. She called us because the sister was threatening her with a knife. After we arrested the sister and took her to juvi detention, I got the idea to visit the family. When I got off shift, I went to the grocery store, picked out $200 in canned goods, dry cereal, etc. and drove back over to the apartment. As a white man alone, I normally would have been afraid to enter the building which had atleast one crack den, but I kept my uniform on and the thugs thought I was on official business.

When I knocked on the door, the girl answered. I could see she hadn't slept a bit, but had an algebra book in her hand. This impressed me. It turned out, the girl--LaTreah was her name-- was not only raising her siblings, but was working a full time job and going to college at night. LaTreah appologized for her sister's behavior and the shabbiness of the apartment. I told her that there was nothing to be embarassed about. The apartment was clean and there is no shame in old furniture. And LaTreah was clearly doing right by the sister, getting her help before it was too late.

She smiled cautiously, wonderly why I was there. I explained that I thought that she could use some food. I don't know why I thought that, but a lot of times I fall back on stereotypes. Poor and black must mean hungry, right? To my surprise, LaTreah showed me full shelves and a full refrigerator. She worked in a supermarket and was allowed to bring home dented cans and stale baked goods. It wasn't fancy stuff, but filling and healthy foods. I was impressed again.

I couldn't convince LaTreah to accept the food, but she took me down the hall where a poorer Latino family was hungry. I saw the gentle manner she had with the kids in that sad household, speaking to them in fluent Spanish and introducing me as her friend. The kids were a little awed by my uniform and I figured they'd never seen a policeman as a friend before. I wnet home that night full of thoughts about what their lives were like when I wasn't there.

When LaTreah's sister had to appear in court, I had a chance to speak to her again. She was wearing a cheap jacket and skirt that was meant to make her look older, but just emphasized her youth. She looked like a little girl dressing up. The effect wasn't lost on the judge. LaTreah lost custody of the sister and was told that a social worker would be by to look into the other children's care.

It's crazy, but I knew then that I had to stop this family from being torn apart. I started coming around LaTreah's apartment every day when I got off shift. The younger kids were shy at first, then warmed up. I helped them with their home work and chores while LaTreah studied for her night class. When she got an A, I took the whole family out for dinner to celebrate.

Standing in the lobby of Bennigans with a young black woman and five waifs, I became aware of hateful stares we were getting from white patrons. I got a glimpse of the future, but it didn't scare me.

In the spring, I got up the nerve to actually ask LaTreah out. She sighed and muttered something. I asked her what was wrong. She said she'd been warned that a white man would only stick around if he wanted to get in her drawers. I flushed. I tried to explain that I didn't expect that from her, but it seemed as if I had ruined things.

Throughout the long hot summer, LaTreah was cool towards me. I arranged fot the kids to go to camp so they would be out of harm's way during the season when many kids are hit by cars or shot because apartments are too hot to stay inside. As for LaTreah, she was working full time at the supermarket and often did overtime. When I saw her, it was very formal, just to get updates on the younger kids time at camp.

Then in early August, I got a call from the hospital. They said a young woman was asking for me. I rushed there to find LaTreah with a split lip and black eye. She had been jumped by some young punk who tried to rape her in the stairwell. Her screams brought two elderly neighbors out who informed her attacker that her white boyfriend was a cop. He reconsidered and fled.

"Am I your boyfriend, LaTreah?" I asked. She nodded. "I guess Tom," she replied. Then she came home with me. I thought it was strange putting this black girl I hadn't even kissed yet, into my bed with the covers pulled up like she was 10 years old.

I left her there with a kiss on the forehead and went back to the precinct. It wasn't hard to find some guys willing to come back with me and take care of business. I took five black cops, three white ones and two Latinos. Seven guys rousted thugs from the building while the rest of us packed up LaTreah's apartment. It was pitful how little stuff they had, but we took it all. She was never coming back.

When LaTreah woke up, I told her that she was mine now and there was only one way that would work. She could wear a veil to cover her battered face if she wanted, but day after next she was coming down to city hall to marry me. I already had the license in my hand.

So that is how we met and married. The kids came back from camp to find that they now lived in an all white suburban neighborhood. If my neighbors don't like it, they're afraid to say as much to a cop.

Monday, December 27, 2004 at 11:09
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