Read aloud
A local police officer I knew told me this. A call came in from a village about two neighbors getting into a drunken brawl. When they arrived, they found a decapitated corpse. They went looking for his friend, found him, and brought him to the station. He calmly sat down at the table and, feeling justified, pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It turned out he and his neighbor had been drinking and had started talking about whether they could kill someone, and the future corpse said, «If you're so brave, take an axe and chop off my head.» The other daredevil agreed, but only on the condition that he sign a receipt stating he had no complaints. He did. The neighbor chopped off the head and went home to sleep.
I've been cheating on my husband for the last ten years. But I do it carefully, following a number of rules, the most important of which is to never bring lovers into the house or into my life. It's just sex on the side, emotions, and physical pleasure. Moreover, I'm absolutely certain that my husband is cheating on me too—he often goes on long business trips, and before those trips, I secretly slip condoms into his suitcase. Sometimes I notice he slips them into my purse, too. So it turns out that we're both unfaithful, and it remains an open secret, but we have a wonderful relationship, he adores me, and the feeling is mutual.
My boyfriend is an IT guy, and that says it all. For example, right now I'm lying naked on the couch, wanting sex, and what about him? He's making a website. Even text messages to him threatening with me watching porn and masturbating behind his back don't help. We've come to this point… But at 4 AM, when he's done, he wants sex. And I'm sleepy; I have to go to work early.
I love it when a girl sits on my face, makes me lick it, makes me submit to her. When she excites me but doesn't let me cum, she shoves her wet panties in my mouth, treats me like a thing, and shows me she's in charge. However, after the process is over, I feel like it shouldn't be like this; I feel disgusted, repulsed, and ashamed of myself.
I was dating a girl, and for my birthday, she gave me a very expensive laptop. I couldn't afford one, but she gave me one. It was incredibly awkward; a simple «thank you» wasn't enough, and I couldn't reciprocate her birthday gift with an equally expensive one. I decided to have a regular sex marathon with her so she'd always be satisfied. We broke up three months later. I couldn't even do it right.
When I take a crap, no matter how many times I wipe my ass, the toilet paper still gets dirty. I started pushing a little piece of toilet paper inside with my finger to make it cleaner. Then I saw a video by a proctologist about not doing that. And he said I'm not the only one who shoves toilet paper up my ass. Basically, it's easier to just wash it with water.
For two years now, I've been begging my husband to get a hair transplant. After turning 30, he started going bald, and a patch of hair has formed on the top of his head. He looks terrible. Doctors confirmed it's just a physical quirk, and otherwise he's perfectly healthy. I'm willing to pay for the procedure in full; it's not an exorbitant amount of money. But he absolutely refuses: he says I should love him no matter what. And when I tell him that I could weigh 250 pounds and he'd love me that way too, he says, «You don't understand, it's different...» I'm thinking about divorce.
At about 15 (45 years ago), I found a kind of mini-wallet made of faux leather with two compartments (meaning it had no value in itself). One compartment contained 5 dollars, the other a color picture of a naked girl. Some time later, I discovered who lost it: it was a friend of mine. Five dollars at the time (with the average salary being 120-150 dollars) was a decent amount of money, but a photo of a naked girl to jerk off to was much more valuable! It was precisely because I didn't want to part with that photo that I couldn't confess and return it.
A year later, the guy died. Of course, there were reasons for that, but that fact greatly increased the shame I felt before his memory… I'm still ashamed! So ashamed!
My friend got married for the fourth time, and the second time to her first husband. As they say, the first word is worth more than the second.
I took a day off just to masturbate all day. I'm 25, single, and after work I have no energy to masturbate.
I want to get into an accident. It's idiotic, but I really want to experience that desperate fear when you're on the brink of life and death.
My drunk husband was sleepwalking at night and, instead of using the toilet, peed on the sofa where my mom was sleeping at the time. Holy shit.
1996, second grade. And so, our backwater school had a New Year's masquerade. In our family, even normal clothes were rare. Mom immediately told me honestly that she didn't have the money for a costume, that I needed to understand and forgive. But my dad didn't hesitate: he found a stick shaped like a gun, painted it black with a marker, dressed me in a black turtleneck and pants, attached a mitten—a «holster»—and gave me his dark glasses. I was a mafioso. It was a complete sensation and delight. All those musketeers, batmen, and lions were crying with envy.
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