» What's the hardest you've tried to get dumped?

The story of broken legs man
Again, not particularly proud of this and wouldn't do it again, but I wouldn't allow myself to be treated like that again, so it's a moot point.

Broken legs man and I first met when I was an impressionable 14 year old at YMCA day camps. He was tall, handsome and a whole year older than me. Very charming and outgoing, he went to the local posh school, whereas mine was a highly sought after comprehensive 2km away. He was going out with the camp bike and I was left to the role of best girl mate.

We met up again each summer, sometimes seeing each other during school time if our paths crossed, him looking very smart and cool while I was reduced to blushing and gibbering like a freak until I was 17, but then his mother died and with all the best intentions we lost touch for a while until I went to uni.

He spotted me in a pub back home where I had a new found confidence in myself, lots of friends, four years training in kickboxing, a decent haircut can do wonders as well as good skin which had been the bane of my life until then.

We hooked up and all was good for a few months until for reasons unknown he decided to systematically destroy my life. Not by major things that would be noticed by others, but little things like saying I looked fat in some clothes I liked - I was a size 12 at this point, but lost two stone at his behest, pointing out my weaknesses like intolerance for stupid people, how I should be nicer to his friends - not sure why as they were never nice to me and how all of my friends were shit and didn't like me.

Over the course of two years he basically broke down all my defences and made me feel like crap. He then slept with one of his hideously ugly friends and gave me an STI - not one of the horrible permanent ones thankfully, but enough to be pissed off about. I had no idea at this point that was how I'd got it as he made me think that I had it and passed it onto him. So we split up for the summer and missed each other inbetween burning doses of pain administered by nurses. He got back in touch with me and I jumped at the chance of getting back together as although I'd had plenty of other offers, I was infatuated with the little fucker.

Turned out he didn't have any treatment for his dose of nasties and within a week I was showing symptoms again and wondered why. One of his (nicer) friends took me aside and told me broken legs man had slept with another of their friends and then bragged about how stupid I was as I didn't realise. He then went on to tell me that my initial suspicions of him taking smack on a regular basis were in fact correct and the way he mashed up his chin a few weeks before was not in a car accident, but his dealer seeking to teach him a lesson for not paying up on time and sleeping with one of his bitches.

Armed with this information, plus some other stuff that I'm not going to discuss here I went to see him and when confronted, he laughed in my face. A swift roundhouse brought him down, a couple of punches broke three ribs and a few well times stamps broke his legs. One below the knee and one above the knee. The rising smell of fecal matter necessitated my exit, but not before hocking up a greenie and depositing it on his face.

Aside from everything else, if you're going to cheat on me, make it with someone better looking, not a chavvy minger with shit for brains as that's just insulting.

Apologies for spitting as it's just not ladylike.
(Fri 6th Jun 2008, 14:17, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Letter from a puppy to its owners
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
(Thu 4th Mar 2010, 17:21, More)

» Accidental innuendo

Not me but
When I was working at my last place a guy came in to pick up his newly castrated dog and uttered the immortal line..."I'm here to get lucky".
(Thu 12th Jun 2008, 12:19, More)

» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me

Wednesday
Some of you remember me posting an NHS rant in customers from hell QOTW a few weeks ago about the treatment my father received in hospital. Others of you will have seen the announcement I put on OT on Thursday to mark his passing. Life in general has been a bit upside down and odd for the last few weeks as he's deteriorated slowly but surely.

Several things spring to mind when I read this week's QOTW about him. The fact that he and my mum welcomed me, plus two cats, two guinea pigs and two rabbits, back into the family home after I screwed up a few years ago. No pressure to do anything I wasn't ready to do or move out and make a life for myself meant that I was back on my feet again and starting a new career in a few months. I think they knew that if they bugged me about finding something too soon I'd dig my heels in and stay in the old crappy job I had even longer.

The thing with my dad was he was very old school, stiff upper lip and all that, so he never really said he was proud of me and my brothers to us. Sure he'd say it to other people when they asked and would brag about our achievements to friends, but never seemed able to tell us that we'd done something well. So I knew that he'd realised he didn't have long left when he was ending phone conversations with I love you's and a couple of days before he died, made a special effort to call me after I left the hospital and tell me that he was proud of me and he didn't need to worry about me anymore, that he knew I was going to be alright. Frankly the fact that he did, whether he was bugged by my mum to do so or not, means the world to me and I'm really going to miss him.

Wednesday's going to be a fucker.
(Sun 5th Oct 2008, 11:27, More)

» Pet Peeves

When you THINK you're going to get some
I tie you up with scarves so you cant move and begin to massage your body with oil to relax you. I smooth your skin firmly and you let out a moan of happiness.

You still feel a little tense, so I swap my hands for my mouth and begin licking and sucking your neck and chest, paying special attention to your erect nipples. I trace your happy trail down from your belly button to your now rockhard cock and slowly lick up and down your pulsating shaft.

I then move away from your cock and you look angry as you're now desperate for me to suck it, instead I begin kissing your inner thighs and stroking your balls with my fingers very very gently. I take one in my mouth and slowly rotate it, letting my piercing stimulate it. You stiffen and almost cum as it feels so good, so I gently tug on your balls and hold off the inevitable.

I move back up your body, licking and kissing you all over until you're trembling in anticipation. I decide to give you a break and hover over your now monstrous size cock, then slowly lower my mouth over your head, licking and sucking softly at first, then applying more pressure. I move my head up and down and your body starts to buckle with the added pressure, so again I tug on your balls.

Keeping one hand on your balls and the other at the base of your cock, I take your whole shaft in my mouth and begin sucking properly, moving up and down and twirling my tongue around your head, you cannot stop groaning in pleasure and start arching your back, trying to get even further inside my mouth. I push you straight back down, as I'm in control, not you.

I move my hand down from your cock and start rubbing your asshole, then slowly slip one finger inside. You shudder and say no at first, but I add some more lube and slowly slip it inside again and you squirm in delight. I move it inside a little further, feeling for your G spot while still sucking and kissing your cock, then all of a sudden you let out a cry and I know I've found your G and you cum torrents of spunk in my mouth.

And then what do you do? You fucking fall asleep. Pussy
(Fri 2nd May 2008, 10:35, More)