My husband loves the "just waxed" feel of my pussy. He refers to it as his "Adult Slip 'n Slide." However, while I do like that he takes pleasure in it, pleasing him (or anyone else) isn't why I do it.

I do it for purely selfish reasons. I do it for the same reason I continue to dye my roots every month. I'm 57yo, and don't want any gray hairs to remind me I'm getting old.

I use to shave it, but find waxing to be less effort. Maybe I'll move to laser. And don't even start with dying it. While I might put it on my head, it's never going near my cootch.

I dated a man for three years before finding out he was still married to his supposed to be ex-wife. They acted like they were divorced and she herself told me they were. As soon as I was pregnant though he left me and they were back together and oh they were apparently never actually divorced. I then found out through a friend of his that she couldn't get pregnant. My ex would demand I update him on my pregnancy and his wife tried to invite herself to my medical appointments.

I felt like they used me as a surrogate and they seemed so unhinged that I faked a miscarriage. My sister helped me by saying that a fight between me and ex's wife caused me to start bleeding and I lost the baby as a result. The truth was I was still pregnant.

I moved away not long after and had my baby and I have been a single mom since. Had my own personal circumstances been different I might have terminated to be truthful about there being no baby. But very early menopause runs in my family and I didn't want to lose out on being a mom because of that asshole.

He strung me along so well we had talked about getting married and we were actively looking for houses together. I was on birth control and we used condoms but the pregnancy still happened and when I look back he was far less shocked than expected. So I always wonder if he tampered with anything. Either way I think he spent our whole relationship hoping I would end up pregnant. And for all I know he had more than one of us on the go.

I know people say a child deserves to know both parents but there was no way I saw that being healthy for my child. And on the chance they would go completely crazy I did not want anything to happen to me at their hands so they could raise my child as theirs.

i wanted to put this in a tiktok comment section but didn't want it traced to his account lol.

basically, before i met my boyfriend, i was an extremely picky eater. i wouldn't try anything new, my plate was extremely beige. the only vegetables i tolerated were things like carrots, peppers, sweetcorn - the simple stuff. i also hated any sauces or anything remotely liquidated. i would've rather died before putting something like a mushroom anywhere near my mouth. it was to the point i considered getting tested for arfid.

when i met him, i knew he was a gym rat. he'd tell me about all these extravagant meals he'd made, filled with all kinds of vegetables and things i didn't even know existed. i just nodded along as if i knew what he was on about lol.

eventually the day came where i had to eat at his house. i'm celiac so eating out isn't something i really do, and since we couldn't settle on somewhere to eat, he suggested he cooked me something back at his place. i agreed happily, but was literally shitting myself inside.

i watched him cook. the meal was chicken covered in a lemon & cream sauce, with potatoes and green beans. as mentioned before, i don't do sauces, especially creamy ones. i had never eaten a green bean in my life. not even kidding, i was terrified. i was thinking of excuses to leave or if there was a way i could politely mention i did not want to eat what was being served to me. nothing came to mind so i just started mentally preparing myself. quite literally repeating the words "it's just food i can do this" as if im hyping myself up to compete in a world championship competition.
his parents were there too, and it was my first time meeting them. i couldn't stop dreading the moment i'd try this concoction, hate it, and embarass myself in front of a guy i really liked and his parents.

after staring at the meal in defeat for a moment, i just swallowed the fear and shoved it down my throat. the worst part is, i liked it. it was really fucking good. and suddenly i'm questioning my entire life of refusing to try anything other than your standard beige food. i ate every last bit of the entire meal. i genuinely could not believe myself.

since then, ive been to his house much more, and ate every meal cooked for me without hesitating. i'm eating things i never would've thought to even consider trying. after the first few times, i just decided id never tell him about how scared i was to eat a cream sauce and green beans. he does not know im picky. he probably thinks ive always eaten anything without issue. i even eat things he himself doesnt like now, and i definitely feel healthier now that i eat actual balanced meals.

thing is, im genuinely thankful for him. if you told me 7 months ago i was eating a bowl full of mushrooms, i would've called you insane. i'm glad that being too anxious to pipe up about being picky changed my life for the better.
maybe i'll tell him someday lol

​

I met this 43-year-old woman on a dating site, and honestly, I never expected things to turn out the way they did.

We started talking casually, but the chemistry grew quickly. She told me she hadn't been happy with her sex life with her husband for a long time and missed the passion, excitement, and feeling of being desired. The more we talked, the more comfortable we became with each other.

Eventually, we decided to meet, and that first meeting completely changed things.

She arrived wearing beautiful lingerie, looking incredibly confident and attractive. That image is still stuck in my mind. She had this combination of maturity, confidence, and playful energy that made her impossible to forget.

When we finally shared a bed, the chemistry was on another level. The way she moved, her confidence in different positions, and how attentive she was to what we both enjoyed made the entire experience feel effortless. Her oral skills were honestly unforgettable, too.

What surprised me most was her energy and enthusiasm. Even after an intense intimate moment, she knew how to bring the excitement back and make me feel wanted all over again. It wasn't just about the physical experience; it was the confidence, affection, and connection she brought to it.

Honestly, she made me feel like I was in my 20s again. I went into the meeting expecting a good time, but I left with memories that are still on my mind.

Afterward, we spent time talking and laughing, and I realized that what made the experience special wasn't only the intimacy. It was how comfortable we were together and how naturally everything happened.

We've continued talking since then, and I'm beginning to wonder whether this could become something more than a casual connection.

I never thought an encounter with a 43-year-old woman would leave such a lasting impression on me, but here I am.

My dad died from cancer when I was 6. He and my mom were married and actually like together at the time. I have to state this in case people wonder about separation and stuff. But they were together and because of that my mom expected to inherit everything he owned and that she could give me something later. But my dad actually took most of his money and set it up in a trust for me and left my grandparents in charge of it. My mom owned the house outright and got a small amount of money. In reality I was better off than she was when he died.

He did this because he knew mom would remarry eventually and he didn't want a stranger in charge of my inheritance or even to benefit more from his passing than me. He wanted to be here but he knew the money would matter a lot to me going forward. Since he was young and dying from cancer he knew it was possible that I could end up orphaned and that mom having a husband would leave him in charge. It was a risk he didn't want to take.

My mom was always so hurt over dad's choice. Especially when it came to him not leaving her in charge of the trust. She felt like he should have left her with way more than he did and that he should have trusted her to make good choices.

Secretly I'm really happy he didn't trust her though. She remarried when I was 10 and her husband wanted to set up his own business. She asked my grandparents if they could borrow money from my trust for it and she also complained endlessly that the money dad would have left could have been used to start the business. They did get the business started but then they had kids together and times were tough. She would have used the money to make up for it and as selfish as it sounds, my dad's money should not be going on her second husband and their kids. My dad is not their husband and father. He's my dad and he was her husband. There would be nothing left if my mom had her way. And I am glad that I have money for a house in the future and that I can live less stressed about money because my dad gave most of his to me and left it with my grandparents.#

I never told my mom this but we're really not that close anymore because I never asked for the money for her husband or for all of us when we were struggling. My grandparents helped me which pissed her off more. But again, her husband and the other kids are not their family or their problem.

a month or two ago i started doing cocaine with a 3 of my best friends, it was the one thing i always told myself i wouldnt touch but here i am at 5am doing line after line by myself, i hoped it wouldnt come to this but it is what it is, to anyone wondering what it feels like, it makes you feel how you wish you felt, i know its confusing but before i tried it i thought it was gonna feel like meth or something but genuinely i feel more confident and feel like myself which is why i think it gets addictive. To those who never tried it, DO NOT DO IT, it always starts as a socialising kinda thing then you start doing it alone in your room till 7am

I would never say this or they wouldn’t accept it. I’m in my mid 20s and got lucky with a good job early on. A lot of my friends are still in school or working in F&B. You might be thinking this is a selfless act, but it’s actually got a selfish motive.

I got tired of my friends not being able to do the things I wanted to do. They wouldn’t let me pay for them. I figured I can save them money elsewhere and free up some funds for weekend fun. It started with claiming my Instacart shopper brought too much or I accidentally ordered too much. I’d give them meats, pasta, rice, etc all claiming I accidentally got too much.

Then I found Costco. I live alone so I don’t need bulk items. But I do most of my shopping there. Now when they come over, I send them home with paper towels, toilet paper, medicine, literally anything.

Sometimes I’ll even pay all of their tabs and have the bartender tell them a random man paid it for them. I don’t have tons of money, but I’m a single person and pretty frugal so I have plenty to share. And now they come with me to concerts, fairs, markets, shows, everything! The plan worked :)

i’m 19f just got out of my first ever longer term/serious relationship where i was cheated on then broken up with.

i met this man in january and we had a huge instant connection. we had literally everything in common, all the same morals/values/sense of humor/hobbies/music taste/life goals. and fantastic romantic and sexual chemistry.

i know this is bad and please dont come for me, but at the time we met i was in an extremely dingy and unliveable apartment owned by a slumlord, and i stayed at his place more and more until i basically lived there, then fully broke my lease and moved in by june or july. and when i say unliveable, i mean the fact that it was in a basement of a small house in an awful neighborhood, had holes in the windowsills which led to FLOODING in my unit, mold, bugs, and upstairs neighbors who were in a domestic violence situation screaming and making concerning noises at all hours of day/night which also led to cops outside all the time and sometimes even knocking at MY door.

in august, my dad died. i already struggle with chronic, severe, persistent depression, and i was already in the middle of a severe depressive episode, and at that point i was barely hanging on. i wasnt able to work and was barely taking care of myself, s3lf harming a LOT. i had a serious suicide attempt in late july/early august just before my dad died. basically he got really sick of helping me with everything and we began fighting a lot, he’d say a lot of pretty bad things towards me, and my depression only got worse from that & feeling like i had absolutely nobody to talk to.

2 weeks ago, he broke up with me. god this is the biggest heartbreak of my life, i loved him so fucking much. nobody has ever done as much for me as he has in my entire life.

the day after he broke up with me, i did something really stupid and went through his phone while he slept.

so there’s this woman who used to be his coworker, and over a year ago when he first broke up w his ex he started flirting with this coworker and she rejected him. he took it well and they continued being friends. fast foward to our relationship, they’ve been friends ever since but only talk super occasionally, like once every couple weeks. when i went through his phone post breakup, i saw they had been sexually flirting for 4 days before he broke up with me. she even teased him about his beard and long hair and told him to shape up his beard for her. I WAS LITERALLY IN THE BATHROOM HELPING HIM SHAVE IT AND MAKE SURE IT WAS EVEN, NOT KNOWING HE WAS ONLY DOING IT BECAUSE SHE ASKED HIM TO.

mind you, she knew we were together. i genuinely cannot understand how, as a woman, you can flirt with a man and say sexual things to him or even SLEEP WITH HIM knowing he has a girlfriend. i once had been talking about seeing a man casually before he told me he had a girlfriend he was unhappy with, and i instantly told him i cannot and will not sleep with or date a man who is in a monogamous relationship. to me, that makes you complicit in hurting another woman and that’s fucking despicable. like it’s one thing to be betrayed by a man, but an entirely different thing to be betrayed by a fellow woman, imo. we’re supposed to protect eachother. obviously it’s fucked up on the guy’s part, i’m not saying it isn’t, or that the woman is more to blame. they’re equally evil positions to put yourself in. but i’m saying this from the perspective of women needing to look out for eachother more. it’s like girl code, better yet basic human decency, but especially girl code. seeing that hurt so fucking bad and i was absolutely disgusted. i instantly regretted even looking at his phone and havent done it since, for my own sanity. he doesn’t know i saw it, i haven’t brought it up at all.

i hate myself because i still want him back. i cant find it in me to be angry at him or hate him, though i desperately wish i could. i still have so much love for him. i miss his warmth and comfort. i miss hearing about his days at work and him telling me stupid jokes. i want to have a future with him still. all of that makes me feel small, pathetic, and stupid. ive been sick to my stomach for days and unable to sleep or eat.

he’s kicking me out within the next few weeks. my 20th birthday is in 10 days. my parents are both dead and i have virtually no friends. i only just got a shitty fast food job but haven’t started work. i’m preparing for living in my car, wintertime is right around the corner. life is incredibly bleak right now

I (22M) moved into a new apartment about three months ago. I don’t know many people in the city, so I’ve been trying to socialize and find things to do. One of my neighbors is a 27F who lives with her six-year-old son. We exchanged contact information when we first met but never really talked much.

Last weekend, she texted me asking for a favor because she’d lost her ID and wanted me to buy her some wine. I agreed, and she invited me over to drink with her. I wasn’t doing anything, so I went.

We spent the night drinking, talking, singing karaoke, and dancing. She told me she had a long-distance boyfriend and that he knew I was over drinking with her. As we got drunker, things got physical, and we ended up making out on her couch.

Eventually, she felt sick and threw up, so I helped her to bed and went back to my apartment. A couple of hours later, she texted me asking me to come back because she was feeling better. I knew I probably shouldn’t have gone back, but I did.

We started making out again, and she told me she wanted to have sex. I hesitated because she had a boyfriend, but I eventually gave in. We had sex, and afterward, I made sure she was okay before leaving. I’d also brought her some ibuprofen because she had a headache.

Now I’m sitting here wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. She’s my next-door neighbor, she has a boyfriend, and we’re inevitably going to see each other again. I also feel a little guilty about how drunk we both were that night.

I haven’t been back over since, but I know we need to have a conversation about what happened. I just don’t know how to approach it without making things even more awkward.

i didint know i had met a creep i met this dude on discord hes a buddy of one of my close freinds he made me show my body ect i want to cry so bad rn i feel horrible i dont know what to do please show some words of encouragement please if your reading this have a good night or day.

When I was 5, I was playing on a trampoline with a friend. I playfully pushed her while she was jumping, and she fell badly, injuring her neck.

I was terrified and immediately told her parents what happened. At that age, I didn’t understand how serious it was. A few days later, I learned that she had passed away.

I’m 21 now, and even though I was just a child, I still carry the guilt. Sometimes the memory comes back when I’m trying to sleep.

I’m grateful that therapy exists, because I’m trying to process what happened and learn how to live with these feelings.

I was parentified by my birth parents. They relied on me to raise my younger siblings from the time I was about 5 or 6 and at the time I had two siblings already. They had five of us before we were removed by CPS and put in foster care and I requested to live apart from my siblings when it finally happened. At first it was denied but I was honest that I was ready to outright hate my siblings and make their lives hell for clinging to me and relying on me for everything to the point where I felt like I could crawl out of my own skin. I couldn't ever sleep alone or go anywhere without them rushing me and clinging to me. They would hurt me whenever they felt like we were going to be apart. Even for stuff like school (and this was before we were removed) I would be walking around with bruises.

It was so bad. I really couldn't stand my siblings as bad as that sounds. There were days I really had to hold back yelling at them and telling them to leave me alone.

By the time we were separated my siblings were so reliant on me that they did not do well when I was placed separately from them. I only know because of contact with two of them who are now out of foster care. But they were bounced around and kept screaming to have me back with them and they refused to participate in any of the therapy given to them.

Meanwhile I ended up being adopted and I went on to do well in school for the first time ever and I was able to have a future I would not have been able to get with them. They have no idea I asked to be placed separately from them but they are angry I didn't get back in touch once I was 18. To be honest I don't even know if I would have ever reached out if they hadn't reached out to me first. And I don't see a relationship going anywhere either. Occasional calls will be the only contact I'm okay with given their feelings.

I smoked roughly a pack a day for nearly nine years, starting back when I was nineteen. Everyone in my life, my parents, my girlfriend, my buddies, constantly begged me to quit, but I was that stubborn idiot who claimed I only smoked because I loved the ritual. Then about fourteen months ago, I threw my cigarettes in the bin and never touched nicotine again. People treated me like some kind of monk who conquered his demons. My dad bragged to his friends about my mental toughness, my coworkers asked me for tips on breaking addictions, and I just smiled and nodded, letting them believe I woke up one morning and decided to master my mind through pure grit.

The actual truth is so embarrassing that I have never told a single human being. It was a freezing rainy night and I was driving home on the highway after a brutal shift. I lit a cigarette, took two huge drags, and out of nowhere my heart felt like it jumped into my throat and started racing at 180 bpm. My chest clamped up, my left arm went completely numb, and my peripheral vision went black. I genuinely believed with every ounce of my soul that I was having a massive fatal heart attack at 28. I jerked the steering wheel onto the gravel shoulder, threw open the door, and literally fell face-first into the wet ditch.

I laid in the cold mud sobbing, hyperventilating, and clutching my chest while begging the 911 operator not to let me die alone. When the ambulance arrived with sirens blaring, the paramedics hooked me up to an EKG, checked my blood pressure, and very calmly told me that my heart was fine and I was having an acute panic attack, likely spiked by too much caffeine, zero food, and heavy nicotine. The terror of that night broke something in me, to the point where the smell of tobacco smoke now makes my stomach turn. I didnt quit because of strength or discipline. I quit because I was terrified out of my mind crying in a roadside ditch, and I feel like an absolute fraud whenever people praise my willpower.

I’ve been going back and forth about posting this, but I think I just need to get it out somewhere because it’s been weighing on me for years.
I was never close to my dad growing up. He wasn’t really there for me, and I didn’t grow up living with him. He started coming around when I was older, and I met my sisters on his side of the family when I was around 14. Eventually, he wanted to introduce me to the rest of his family, including people I’d apparently met as a baby but obviously didn’t remember.
When I was 16, he invited me over to drink with him. I was excited because I was a teenager and thought it would be fun to spend time with my dad. Earlier that day, he took me to Ross because I needed pajamas. Looking back, I think part of me was just happy to have him around and to feel like I was finally getting some kind of relationship with him.
When we got to his house, we drank Mike’s Hard Lemonade and talked about life. Eventually, he let me sleep in his bed.
I was very drunk, but I remember what happened.
He laid down behind me and started caressing my crotch area. Then he tried pulling my tank top down so he could put his mouth on my chest.
I immediately got up and started freaking out, asking him why he was doing that. He rolled off the bed and acted like I was crazy, insisting that nothing had happened.
I went to the bathroom to get my phone because I wanted to call my brother, who I was living with at the time. My dad took my phone away from me, and I begged him to take me home.
During the drive, he kept passing the exit that would take us to my brother’s house. I remember getting scared because I didn’t know what he was going to do. When he finally dropped me off, he threatened me where it hurt the most: my family.
At the time, my mom was in prison, and my dad was helping financially with her lawyer and other expenses. He told me that if I told anyone what happened, he would stop helping my family.
I was 16. I didn’t know what to do with any of that, and I was scared of what would happen if I spoke up. I kept it to myself.
To this day, I’ve never really told anyone about what happened other than my cousin.
Sometimes I wonder how different things would have been if I had told someone back then. I wonder whether I should tell my family now. I wonder how I’m supposed to feel about a man who was barely present in my childhood and then did something like this when I finally started letting him into my life.
I don’t know what I’m looking for by posting this. Maybe I just need someone to hear me. Maybe I need to know that I’m not crazy for still thinking about it years later.
I was a child, and he was my dad. I trusted him, and I still don’t know what to do with what happened.
I just needed to finally say it somewhere

Hi, I’m going through a difficult situation, and I honestly don’t know how to handle it.

I recently found out that my mom is having affairs with two men, and both of them are my father’s friends. I caught her once, but she doesn’t seem willing to change. She keeps saying that she won’t do it again, but after a few days, there’s always another man involved.

Even when I was a child, there was a man she used to talk to on the phone for hours. More recently, I found out about her involvement with one of my dad’s friends. When I confronted her, we had a huge argument, and she promised not to do it again. However, I found evidence in her WhatsApp chats that suggested sexting, along with photos of her kissing and hugging another woman and pictures of her sleeping with someone at a lodge.

For a long time after that, nothing seemed to happen. But eventually, she started talking on the phone again. One day, my brother had an argument at home, and the man who was involved with my mom called her. She answered and loudly told him not to call her anymore.

Later, I found out from my brother that he also knows about my mom’s affair with one of my father’s friends. Apparently, she talks to him behind closed doors. I don’t understand why she needs to shut the door just to talk to someone.

Whenever she goes out, her phone starts showing as busy. Meanwhile, my dad seems to act as if everything is normal, as though nothing is happening. I don’t know whether he genuinely has no idea or whether he knows everything but is pretending not to notice.

My dad has worked incredibly hard to bring our family to where we are today. Looking at everything he has done for us makes this situation even more painful.

I keep thinking, what has my dad done to deserve being treated this way by his own wife?

I honestly don’t know what is going to happen next. What scares me the most is that the men involved might somehow create problems for our family or ruin our reputation. Sometimes, I worry that they might do something that brings shame or trouble to all of us.

Okay, this is something I’ve never admitted to my friends, and honestly, I feel a little embarrassed even writing it here.

I’m a 25-year-old woman, and I’m still a virgin. But almost all my friends believe I’ve already had sex, and the way this happened is a little complicated.

Most of my friends are around my age, and almost all of them have boyfriends, go clubbing, have night-outs, and sometimes talk about hookups and one-night stands. Sex and relationships are very normal topics in our group, and they often share their personal experiences with each other.

Whenever these conversations happen, someone eventually asks me about my own experience. They keep asking when I’m going to lose my virginity, whether I’ve ever been with a guy, and why I haven’t experienced these things yet.

At first, I didn't think much of it. But after hearing these questions repeatedly, I started feeling awkward and left out. It felt like being a virgin at 25 was something I had to explain or defend.

Eventually, I got tired of the questions and decided to make up a story.

I told my friends that I had recently lost my virginity to a guy I met at a family function. I made it sound like something that had happened naturally, and now they believe that I’ve finally had my first sexual experience.

The truth is that nothing happened. I made the whole thing up.

And honestly, the story didn't stop there. Since my friends often discuss sex openly, I've also pretended to know things from personal experience that I've actually learned about through the internet. I've even discussed different positions with them, making it seem like I know what I'm talking about.

I know it sounds ridiculous when I write it all down, but at that moment, lying seemed easier than dealing with their reactions and endless questions.

The thing is, I'm not against sex. I'm curious about it, and I don't think there's anything wrong with people having different kinds of experiences. My friends aren't necessarily bad people either. But when you're surrounded by people who seem so experienced, it's easy to start feeling like you're somehow behind in life.

I don't want to lose my virginity just to prove something to anyone. At the same time, I don't want every conversation about relationships to turn into an interrogation about my personal life.

So I made up this story to get some peace, and for now, it has worked. My friends think I've had my first experience, and I no longer have to listen to the same questions about when it's going to happen.

But there's still a part of me that feels guilty because they believe something that isn't true. What if they ask for more details someday? What if I get caught in my own lie? I honestly don't know what I'll do.

I'm sharing this because I wonder how many people feel pressured to pretend they're more experienced than they really are just to fit in socially.

Am I the only one who has lied about their sexual experience because of peer pressure? And do you think being a virgin at 25 is really such a big deal, or have we made it one by constantly comparing ourselves to others?

i have been in love with one of my best friends for quite some time.

but the words taste like bile and even though she's always close by

i would never let her be mine.

so instead i go for a boy that reminds me of her, a boy so hungry

he will let me spoon feed him pieces of her i stole from her soul,

little scraps of words she says and things she does,

and long hair always kept down, so when he turns his head away

and the sun catches his black locks, i might see, for a second,

a glimpse of her pink and green hair, and

when he presses his lips to mine i will tangle my

fingers through silky strands,

eyes closed but mind open like a wound.

though i hate to dream, i will imagine

it is her breath on my mouth,

her tongue on my teeth instead.

but i don't even need her kiss. i can settle for her touch when our

shoulders brush or when our arms wrap around each other in hello,

when we sit so comfortably close i can smell the aloe I'd lathered on the sunburnt skin

she couldn't reach, too late for stubbornness

too late for sunscreen now.

i don't even want his stare or his heavy metal shirt,

his summer tan, his winter olive,

but i will take his bushy eyebrows as long as they hide

his gaze and that open mouthed stare, so i never have to see that stupid look on his face

and remember that he will never be her.

Uno de mis amigos de más tiempo me hizo un oral.

Lo conozco desde que teníamos 12 años (ambos tenemos 29) y yo supe que el era gay como a los 20.

Yo me considero heterosexual, jamás experimente con un hombre y este fin, estuvimos varios amigos y mi novia juntos jugando juegos de mesa, fumando y bebiendo. Los demás se fueron y mi novia se puso muy caliente y me toqueteaba mucho, y cuando nos fuimos a dormir se le quitaron las ganas y yo me quedé caliente así que baje a por una ultima cerveza y mi amigo que suele quedarse en casa cuando bebe mucho, seguía tomando.

Me senté y me bebi esa cerveza y estuvimos platicando y riendo de cualquier cosa, de repente rose su pierna sin querer y yo, ya excitado, me calenté. El ofreció darme un oral si yo no tenia tema y pues accrdi.

Al dia siguiente continuamos como si nada, como si el tema fuese algo x.

Después de experimentar debo decir que no es lo mío pero no niego que fue un buen oral.

she's a single parent who works 50 hours a week and was quietly crying in the stairwell because her clinic wouldn't refill her kid's inhaler without a $340 copay.

i called the billing office anonymously and paid it off. she came to work the next day looking like ten years of weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

nobody knows it was me and i'm taking that to my grave. best money i ever spent.

My 24 year old cat.. I live in a very small town and no vets are available on weekends. On Friday night she started screaming, I’ve never heard anything like it. It would have been Monday morning before I could have gotten her to the vet…. so I asked my husband to crush some leftover pain medicinee from my back surgery and dissolve it in water. I had a syringe (needless) and used that. Within ten minutes she was asleep and within twenty she wass gone.

She was my best friend for 24 years and I killed her… will someone tell me it’s okay?

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is it weird that i want to be tied up spit on slapped and choked? and how do i even bring up kinks without scaring people off i feel like km not rlly ugly just get embarssed rlly easy