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Read the best #bus confession stories
After a long and exhausting day at college, I drove home by bus. After 10 minutes or so, an elderly woman with a cane entered the bus and immediately stormed towards me. She started screaming and shouting at me why I didn't leave my seat for her. This harsh tone and this arrogant implicitness without a trace of politness got me furious. I told her that I had a knee joint and that I wasn't able to stand during the bus drive.
She kept shouting at me and said something like we youngsters are too soft and whiny.
I despise such people. It's a shame that we have such people in our society.
#hate #bus #college #whiny #knee #lie #woman #cane #confession
Sometimes I want to beat my girlfriend. It only happens when she cries or when she talks back. I don't feel bad for it though, she just makes me so angry I want to retaliate with violence.
#anger #abuse #girlfriend
I'm best friends with my ex boyfriend but my current boyfriend doesn't know about it and he shouldn't find out because he hates M. so much for hiting me while we were together. I can't like without M., so I will meet with him in secret and I won't tell anyone.
I was grown up in a very bad neighborhood where girls were seen as sex objects. When I was 13 I touched a girl wrongly in my school. I touched my best friend's sister wrongly. I touched a girl in my neighborhood wrongly. All during my teenage. I even said sorry to my friend's sister that "I am ashamed of what I tried to do and please forgive me" she forgave me but I still feel that I did something really bad. Please people I understand today what it means and I am ashamed of what I did, but it was all because of my innocence. I knew I was doing something wrong but I didn't knew it's so wrong.
My father use to be a pastor, and then he killed someone.
He was always really violent when he got angry, and it was hard to control him after that. He wasn't entirely abusive, but when he was mad, boy, was he a monster.
It didn't come to me as a surprise when I came home one day from school and the house was surrounded with people and police.
Dad apparently killed someone who accused him of lying about something. I was only 8, so I never really understood what exactly happened, and I never tried to even as I grew up.
My mom acted like it never happened, maybe it was her way of protecting me and my little brother.
She remarried 3 years later, but I hated her new husband and his daughter like crazy. They just drove me insane. I was really jealous because they seemed like the perfect family, and truth be told, his daughter was a total bitch.
I just started googling what I could do to get rid of them. There was divorce, lie about him raping me, and murder. No way in hell was I going to jail, though.
Luckily for me, they both loved to eat apples.
Everyday I would dig the trash out for the cores they threw out and collected the seeds.
I'd mash them up and flavour the mix, then sprinkle it on whatever they had to eat for the day.
When my stepfather died, the autopsy said they died of intoxication via apple seeds.
Everyone assumed it was because they ate too much apples, little did they know..
I kind of regret it now, but I eventualy found out my stepdad was cheating on my mother and was a bit abusive to her emotionally.
I guess I did a good job.
I have never in my life, wanted to kill myself more than right now. I know it sounds crazy but I cannot take my parents anymore. I cry every single time in the shower and I try to put on a strong face at school. But no one knows what really is inside of me. Maybe the problem is me. Maybe it’s them. But sometimes you just can’t stand it anymore. I have tried to do everything to please myself and them. After years of getting hit, getting pushed around, verbally abuse, and so many more emotional scars on me, I have now turned… suicidal. It seems like a better place than this hell hole. If I sound selfish and unappreciative, well, I’m sorry. But… if I have to keep living like this, I rather choose a place where I am not living anymore. There may be no physical evidence of what my parents did to me, but inside, it is years of ripped, raw emotions that have been finally triggered. I know that one day, possibly this year, my mom and I will have an argument that we will say something that we could NEVER go back from. If that day comes, I would like to keep this doc as me already predicting this. I just wish the best for them if I do leave this Earth like this. I have an ocean of bottled up emotions that has been building and building for the last few years. I can’t say anything and so instead, my eyes show the signs. I looked at my razor yesterday and wondered what it would be like to cut myself. My rational side yelled and pleaded with me to not do it, but my heart said to do it…. And I just couldn’t. People say that cutting yourself may help you find control of the one thing you have. Yourself. But I just couldn’t. I figured later, right now, that I would rather just stick a freaking knife into my chest and be done for. That sounds much quicker than bleeding out. I’ve read too many romance stories and been around too much success stories. I want to become a female version of a powerful CEO, but also an Oscar-winning producer at the same time. But life never goes my way. You have to try and achieve it. I had it all planned out. I was going to go to Harvard and graduate, marry my high school sweetheart and have a boy and a girl. But life is also unfair. It never told me how I would get screamed at for one bad test grade, but an A overall. It never told me that I would get hit for saying something out of context. Maybe that is how life works. But when it gets too much, you want it to be over. And so, I hope that when this comes out, I want all parents that have hit their children for a bad grade, a remark, a bad habit, to rethink your choices. You have no idea what you are putting us through. Years and years and YEARS of abuse, and it is not just physical. What goes underneath hurts more than 100 physical scars and some may never heal.
So this confession isn't exactly a confession. But I want to write anonymously about how I've been hurt and how I've had nightmares over this for almost 7 years. And the minor PTSD I have learned to live with. Some may relate or you might think this isn't so bad and some have had it worst. But here it goes. I was 15 years old. I was still just a girl and at JHS where there was this boy who had just become a man. Someone who had changed my entire aspect of life and I wouldn't even realize it yet. This guy, we will call him Mason, was the first guy I tried to be serious with. Now at 15, and as a girl, you think that relationships are supposed to be like fairy tales and rainbows, but this was far from it. The beginning was magical. I was only allowed to go outside my house once a month, because my parents said that is only how many times girls should be allowed out. With Mason, I decided to sneak out and go out more than once a month. I sneaked out quite often at the time, actually. When I thought everything was going great, Mason gave me a cool looking ring. This Gothic-rustic looking ring that he told me his great-great grandmother once worn and it was sweet. And I wore it, of course. It wasn't till a month after sweet-nothings, late road trips around the town, and holding hand-in-hand together that something was the worst thing. He cheated on me with my best friend.
Now I say this was the worst thing, but being 15 and having nothing harm you or hurt you, being completely over protected from the world, this did seem like the worst thing. But what you are about to read isn't something I recommend for you to read. If you want to stay cheery and read all of the funny confessions, then just scroll on. Just don't read the rest. It's okay to not read on. After all, no one cared to hear me out for 7 years.
I screamed at him. I was furious. I had never felt such a feeling before. I was angry, I wanted to strangle him, I wanted to cry, and I wanted to run. I even yelled at her, my own friend. How could someone betray someone so terribly? But later on I found out that this had been going on for a few weeks and it wasn't just her; there were 4 other girls at this high school he had been cheating on and I wasn't even the original girlfriend.
He said that if I had sex with him, he would break it off with her and all of his other girlfriends. I was a virgin, I was emotional, I thought "If this will make the pain away, then sure." And so I agreed. In the backyard of my parent's house while my family was gone. It was painful and raw. It burned from the friction and there was no enjoyment out of it. I hated myself in the middle of this and I hated myself for too long after this.
Out of no where, I heard my mom's car pull into the drive way. I freaked out and told Mason that he has to leave. But with the garage right next to the exit of the back yard, there was no way to make a quiet escape. So we tried to stay quiet and hide against the wall, but then my mother caught us red handed. She wasn't yelling, though, she was surprisingly calm about it and seemed to not really care. But she said she was going to call my father, and that was probably why. She told Mason to get out asap and so he did.
It wasn't till I saw my father that I knew what true fear could be.
Let me stop for a second. This might have seem like a story where the boyfriend cheating on me would have also been the guy who physically or mentally abused me. But Mason looks like a super hero for what happened later was much more terrifying.
He was in the dark. Just standing there silent with his chest puffed like he was ready to strangle someone. He asked what had happened in such a dark voice that the hairs on the back of my neck immediately stood. I explained that I had sex with Mason. And I don't remember much what happened after that night. It's still very blurry. I remember screaming and running from my dad. I remember him pushing me and grabbing his belt to be used more than for spankings. I remember my mom..
My mom. I remember that she saved me from that one incident. She said "It's just sex, what's the big deal? You lost your virginity at 12." And I hadn't even realized that it was over my losing my virginity.
Somehow she managed to calm him down, but they took my phone away and said I was grounded for 3 months or until further notice (meaning it could last longer).
The groundings I had were awful. They weren't little kid groundings or spoiled kid groundings where they kept their games and computers. Nah, I wasn't allowed to talk to friends, my computer was taken, my television was taken, my books were taken. I was just given a bed and if my parents were in a good mood, I would be allowed to join them for food. Otherwise, I would eat alone. I was allowed to only read the Bible, (and let's be honest, that's not the most entertaining book to read) and I did my homework. Most of the time I just read math books or science books just to switch it up. My brother got amazing groundings.. He kept his TV, his phone, his XBox... His groundings were just him in his room...
I digress.. Anyways. So I stopped talking to Mason since he didn't keep his promise (go figure) and tried to move on. I showed up to school without my school ID, and at JHS, that's immediate detention. So I had to have detention right after school ended. I didn't want my parents to worry about picking me up since my mom was out of state for work and my father was at work, so I asked some friends for a ride (I also had no way of contacting my parents since I didn't have a phone still). Everyone I knew said that their parent's weren't picking them up until 6 pm and it was 3:30 pm, so it looked like I was walking home. I didn't live too far. Just a couple of miles, it would take me like an hour or two worth of walking, so it would have been fine. I start heading out and out of no where, my father pulled up to me and screaming at me. He said that I was trying to catch a ride with Mason to take me home. I was sort of stunned, because I hadn't even talked to Mason in about a week, and I was trying to figure out how this assumption was just made.
He whipped out my phone and showed me a text directly from Mason saying "Hey, I heard you needed a ride home. If you want, I can give you a ride."
I didn't have my phone on me so it wasn't as if I could have known about this text and Mason wasn't anywhere near me where my father found me, so there was no need to freak out. But he screamed at me to get in the car, and as a good little daughter, I did.
And I sure wish I didn't... Maybe I wouldn't have so many nightmares and paranoid thoughts...
He was driving so fast. It was only 65 MPH on the highways but it felt much faster. Maybe it was all the screaming and questions he was asking me.
Father said, "Why did you ask Mason for a ride?!"
"I didn't! I asked some other friends, I didn't even see Mason there!" I exclaimed.
"LIAR!" He yelled. Slamming his fist on the steering wheel, "Why lie?! I already caught you! Just admit it! JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH!"
But I had. I didn't know how else to get him to believe me. I just kept telling him the truth over and over and over again but it wasn't the right answer.
We got home. I was even more scared now the car ride ended. He got out of the car, ran over to my door before I could even get out, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car.
This wasn't my father. This wasn't the same guy that helped me scratch off "owies" or the same guy that taught me to ride a bike. I had no idea who this guy was. His eyes.. They were so cold and dead. They were so evil.
My arm. It hurt so bad. I got a bruise from how hard he grabbed me. He shoved me into the house and started yelling "TELL ME THE TRUTH! TELL ME THE TRUTH!" over and over again. I told him the full story and it wasn't enough. He somehow couldn't believe it. I was somehow lying and that my honesty was not real.
He got quiet. He looked over and saw a full load of laundry in the laundry basket all neatly folded and slightly over-spilling. And I was so curious as of why he was eyeballing it so often.. He grabbed the full loaded basket and threw it at me like pitching a baseball.
Now you may think "oh, just a laundry basket?" But this laundry basket weighed a good 10 pounds (easily more). And if something being thrown at you going at such a speed, it can feel harder than what it actually is.
For example, a baseball on average weighs about 5.25 oz, and the average potato weighs 5.3 oz and a large potato can weigh 8 oz. My father took a large potato and threw it at my mother's shoulder like a baseball... It dislocated her shoulder from how close he was to her and how fast he threw it.. She was left with a huge bruise for so weeks.
With someone that can throw that hard, I don't feel too embarrassed by saying that I got a big bruise from a full loaded laundry basket.
I fell. I tried to gather myself up, but he knocked me back on the ground anyways. He stood over my legs so I knew not to try to get back up and I watched him take his belt off. He doesn't just use his belt for spankings...
He started yelling at me again to tell him the truth, and I gave him the same answer, 'cause I couldn't think of a lie on the spot, and it wasn't the right answer.
Why could it not be the right answer? It was the truth! He wanted the truth! I gave it to him! I told him! I yelled it to him! I screamed and yelled the truth! And it was NEVER the right answer!
It gave me a flashback from when I was a little girl, only 4 years old, and my parents said that "as long as you tell us the truth, you will never be in trouble." And it was that exact flash back that made me feel.. It made me give up.
I screamed. I cried. He hit my leg! MY LEG! My left leg was more blue than my actual skin color. I hadn't seen such a big bruise in my life.
"WHY? WHY ARE YOU HITTING MY LEG?" I screamed. He just kept hitting me.
I screamed more and more and he said "Because you lied!"
"But I didn't!" I started sobbing and screaming "I didn't!" and he was about to hit me again and I yelled "I WANT MOM!"
And he stopped. For just a second I could breathe. I was allowed to breathe for just.. a second... I was thinking 'maybe I can call mom! She'll save me! She won't let him kill me!'
It was quiet for too long. One second too long.
And he finally spoke "Oh, Sara.. Your mother isn't here to save you this time! I am so tired of you getting away with so much bull sh** and when I try to punish you it's always your mom that saves you! Oh but not this time, Sara dear! You're finally getting what you deserve!"
My hope was shattered..
And he went at it again.. It continued for way too long.. I still have nightmares about this night. I remember exactly what he was wearing... How his hair looked. Which direction I was thrown. I can point out the exact location from the high school where he picked me up.
He was wearing dark brown shoes. The same ones he wore to work everyday cause they look nice with every outfit he wore. His shirt was a polo striped shirt. Brown and tan stripes.. And Khakis... And that belt.
I worked at night shifts Wal-Mart one summer to stalk the shelves and I couldn't stalk the men's department. Specifically the belts. When I touched one, I cried. I didn't even realize I was crying. It was just the touch of it..
The dark brown belt. It was so smooth. It had a nice brass buckle on it that looked nice but didn't feel nice when it hit you, too.
My brother arrived from school.. I screamed to him "CALL THE POLICE! CALL THE POLICE! DAD IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"
But my brother was just as scared of him as I was. My brother just went into his room and hid. He was only 12, but I hated him for it for a long time..
My father had convinced him to stay out of it and when my father decided to catch his breath, I decided to try to make my escape. I wasn't sure where yet, but I had to at least get out of his reach. The door to the outside was too close, that he would easily stop me. I ran to the bathroom, to try to lock the door. It was far enough that maybe he wouldn't reach me in time for me to lock the door.
He turned his back. That was my chance! I got up and ran right into the bathroom before he did!
My hands were so shaky and my legs were so beaten on that I could hardly run as fast as I normally could.
I didn't close the door fast enough. I tried to just use my body as a weight to keeping the door closed but he was three times my size and weight. It didn't matter. He got inside the bathroom and told me to go to my room.
I ran inside my room and tried to close the door but he came in anyways.. And it happened again. He took his belt and hit my arms, my legs, my side. He hit my face. He was physically on top of me so I couldn't run away this time.
When fight or flight comes to play, and you aren't allowed to flight, you have no other option but to instinctively fight back. I never wanted to hurt my father. I used to cry when a cute butterfly died or if I accidentally hurt a frog. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But I didn't have control of myself at this point. I was just screaming and crying and I used what I had - my nails.
I clawed at my dad so often that I drew blood on him. I scratched his face, his arms, anywhere I could in hopes that it would get him off me so I could run away.
And after so many hours of being hit.. It finally happened. He got off of me and stopped hitting me. I waited to hear a sink running and I ran out the front door. I still had my shoes on and I didn't have a phone but I ran anyways.
The neighborhood was pretty open, there weren't many places to hide, but as long as I was in a public place, he wouldn't touch me. He would put on his "I am the fun sporty coach of a dad!" act. He found me not so long of me running. I was so exhausted from being hit in the legs, my legs were already throbbing without me needing to try to run on them. He asked me where I was going and I told him my friend's house.
Instead, I went to the closest restaurant and asked for their phone. I called Mason (I know, it wasn't a good idea, but he was the only one with a car that I knew) and asked him to take me to the police station, cause my father had seriously bruised me everywhere.
When I got there, I filed a report. I called my mom and told her everything and my first thought was "Finally! My mom! She can save me! She'll listen to me and we can make dad go away forever!"
She called my aunt and uncle to have them pick me up and then my father showed up at the police station to write out his side of the story.
He had quite the advantage. The odds that adults are going to listen to a 15 year old *girl*. I didn't realize it then, but the odds were stacked quite against me.
He lied to police. He told them that I was just a delusional 15 year old girl with teenage girl hormones that made me over exaggerate what was happening. The police and every adult ever bought his story. I showed the police my bruises and they asked him to explain it.. He said that "Well she was just disobeying and I had to discipline her, but she wouldn't stay still." And all my chances of being free from this wicked man were gone... He was a snake.. He had everyone around his finger. He called my mom and told her the same lie, so my mom stopped believing anything I said. He even added "Since she is so delusional, maybe we should take her to Laureate." Laureate is the psych ward in town. He had managed to take everything I said that was true about him and twist it into what made him look like the good guy and made me sound like an over dramatic teenager.
For years my mother looked at me like I was "not all there" and my brother decided to add onto my father's lie, because he was so scared of him, himself.
Two years after the incident, my parents got a divorce. My mom caught my father cheating on her.
My whole family still looking at me funny and still not talking to me.
For 4 years my mother didn't believe a single small thing I would even say, even after the divorce and her catching all of his lies. No one believed my warnings for four years.
Until it happened again.
My brother... I would never wish that kind of abuse on anyone.
After four long years of being silenced, of being treated like I was insane, of being treated like I was less than a person. For FOUR YEARS of not talking to anyone because my father told my friends at school and the school principle and anyone I ever knew.
For four years.. I can't even count how many times I got close to suicide over this. But I was too scared to actually do it myself. I tried to put myself in dangerous situations so maybe someone else would have done it for me. Maybe someone would be drunk and drive into me. Maybe I would fall asleep at the wheel. Nothing worked though. I stopped trying when I got to college.. I was safe there.. I think that's all I wanted..
For four years... My brother still was too scared to tell anyone what happened to me...
Four years after the incident, it happened again.. Almost the same exact word-for-word story I told my mom...
I got a phone call while I was in my dorm watching some tv and my mom told me the most great and horrendous news. "Sara, I.. I am so sorry. I should have listened to you all those years ago." I immediately sat up, wondering if she meant... "You were right. What happened to you, I should have listened. I am so sorry. I had no idea that your father actually did that to you, and I am so sorry that I didn't listen to you."
I immediately cried. I couldn't help it. Having your own mother think you are insane or like there is something wrong with you hurts so much... And it was like a weight was lifted off that I started sobbing. My next thought was, 'wait... why is she believing me now out of all these years?' so I asked "Wait, what happened? Why do you believe me now?"
I was hoping for more of a "Your father confessed" kind of thing, but I suppose that was hopeful.
"Sara.. I am so sorry. But your brother.. he was just beaten by your father and what he told me is almost exactly what had happened to you..."
I sank. I cried even more. My brother?! I had refused to see my father after the divorce, and still refuse, but maybe if I had gone to see him. Maybe if I kept him in my life it wouldn't have been my brother. I would much rather it be me.
My father stalked me, tested me, hit me, and did everything to keep me always on my toes.. I still get nightmares till this day and when I am having a normal day, I swear I can see him watching me. It's like I see his actual physical self right there, but when I look again he isn't there. I hate that my brother had those nightmares to share and he feels paranoid still that father is around somewhere..
I feel like I see him so often. On a bus.. In the car in front of me, in the truck behind me.
When I see his name, I immediately think back to the incident..
I can hardly live like this... I am about to graduate from college with a BSCS and I am still scared.. He facebook messaged me asking to go to my graduation, but I can't. I can't do it. People think I am being some selfish child that won't see her father, but I can't. I can't do it, and for my own mental health, I refuse..
#physical #mental #abuse #stalk #stalking #scared #ptsd #emotional
I take the bus to work. And almost each day I see this mother with her older daugher, who is sitting in a wheelchair. The girl is completey spaced out and you immediately notice that this girl cannot do anything on her own. But I do not pity her or her mother. Secretly, I am almost repelled by them. The unpleasant smell of the kid is unbearable and even worse in such a convined space as the bus. She doesn't smell like shit, or urine or something.. more like a person who was bedridden for a long time and not able to wash themselves. Like she hasn't showered in a week or two, always greasy hair and stained clothes.
I get nauseous only thinking about it.
I know, daily life with a child who needs to be cared for 24/7 is not easy. But that just can't be it, can it?! Especially as the girl cannot take care of herself, shouldn't it be obvious to at least maintain a good body hygiene? I don't think that the girl would approve of that either...
I am really sorry that I also resent the child, even though I know she can't to anything about it... But that is just how I feel.
#disabled #wheelchair #bus #family #resentment #disgust #hygiene #smell #unwashed
I'm 21 years old now. I live in India.
When I was 11 years old, my neighbor (a gay - 19 years old then) made me suck his cock & he sucked mine. I started avoiding him from that day. I saw him again after 3 days. I gave him an angry stare. He left me alone after that owing to the fact that my dad is a powerful guy & if he knew the abusers life will be over.
I read in many articles that people abused as kids will hate sex/gays etc. But I don't hate them, I support LGBT & I am straight. The incident never affected me. (Except I learnt karate & silambam - a South Indian martial arts using sticks. I learnt them when I was 13 like crazy until I was sure I could take on atleast 6 guys alone, so I could destroy him when time comes. But I gave up the idea as years passed.)
He is married now (an arranged marriage - poor woman).
I am a engineer by profession & a researcher in my free time. My inner conscience forgave him. I hope he never cross my life again. If he does, that will be the biggest mistake of his life.
I am going out of my mind trying to find anyone interested in keeping me in a strong, rubber-lined bag, for long periods of time. Age, gender, appearance, unimportant - they need only to be dominant, sadistic, cruel, merciless, and preferably very horny! There is a small zippered opening at my mouth, for fellatio, and another one lower down where my goodies can be pulled outside and snugged round the roots. Willing and able to give virtually unlimited fellatio, and open to cbt, milking, orgasm denial or delay, rape, you name it! Group, couple, single, TV, Cross-dresser, whatever. The longest I have been confined so far is a 3-day weekend, but I think my limits are probably higher than that, with the right person(s) You would think SOMEONE would realize the possibilities/opportunities in a situation like this, but so far no takers! Help!!
So.. where to start. I went through internet abusive relationship for almost two years. The content is serious. And I'm still struggling i need someone to talk about it and get it off my chest.
#anger #abuse #confession
I was sexually abused as a child, ages 4-7 by my babysitter and her teenage son. I'm not mad about it at all, but it definitely gave me some slightly naughty and dirty kinks and fetishes.
I would never do what they did to someone else though
#sex #child #confession
I love my boyfriend... he's very hot and fit with a shit tonne of money from his family. But he's got a tiny pathetic cock and he's so weak! I used to think I could deal with it but I can't... I also have a dirty little secret... I love seeing him humiliated and bullied! He's sooo submissive which makes him very easy to bully to get my way. It turns me into a huge slut! :S
Does anyone want to blackmail him for me on Skype? jack.hope39 is his account. The meaner, the better? You can probably force him to let me fuck you or get a couple of grand off him or just make hi your bitch and force him to do whatever you want... At the very least he's got pictures of all his friends and family because I've seen them which is disgusting!. Remember he's all about appearances.
For the record, I'm 5ft4, blonde, blue eyes, 34DD and cute.
Save your conversations with him so I can read them! email is cookiecrumble at hot mail dot com
Claire
I am going to forget I ever met you! I mean that. I am just going to forget that part of my life when I thought you were around, because if you were or not around, you really weren't with me or for me, or about me. nor did you care about me. you came to cause trouble and you did. that is all to be said. I owe you nothing and I hate you. I just pretend now I never met you. you can always "well it looked them but maybe it wasn't" weird world. that protects my ass. but for the wiccian abusing me nothing will save their ass !!!!
I've been in deep depression for...well, it's been so long I forget. My family has now began to put it aside and I'm starting to be the neglected forgotten child in the house. My sister's kid has started to take my place. My father and I rarely talk anymore. Just the other day he refused to look at me once. The desire to just kill myself gets stronger every day. The pain of self harm starts to feel calming now. The pray that when I fall sleep, I never wake up. I keep a tab open of fastest ways to kill myself. I hate the fact I have to deal with this reality. I just want it to end....so bad. I've hurt myself to many times and no one has cared anymore. I've written so many suicide notes. I'm broken.
I've been sleeping with my new girlfriend for about a month now. Unbeknownst to me, she had never cum from having sex. She came from my eating her out, but not fucking. She admitted this to me and at the same time admitted a fetish she had that was the only way she could cum from fucking. She loves her tits abused. They are D cups with areolae that are about 2" wide and pencil eraser nipples that grow to about 1/2 inch long and get a little fatter when aroused. I have pulled her nipples while pinching them so hard I thought I would hurt her but she won't let me stop. I've pulled her tits by her nipples up to her face, then twisted the hell out of her nips. Her favorite which she ask for right before I fuck her is to have her standing, then I take one tit by the nipple, pinching very hard, and pull it up as far out and up as I can, then take my free hand and slap it out of my grasp.
I do this about 10 times to each tit and she is begging to get fucked. Her tits are so bruised but she loves it. I don't know how I'll ever go back to being gentle to some other girls tits.
My bf has been hitting me and "punishing" me in a non-sexual way... but I like it
I hate my father and my sister my father would tell both of us he would spank us if we got out if bed my sister did this several times and git nithing I did this once and got a belt he was also very abusive as a result I am a very hatful and angry person I am told I have issues j don't know what to do the smallest things make me lash out and scream once I even got my brother with a socket wrench
I fantasize about my mother-in-law busting my balls. She is so kind and sweet yet I think she would really enjoy grabbing and squeezing my balls until I was begging for mercy. I feel like there is a dominant side to her that she hasn't brought out before and I would like to help her express it.
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