We live in a small town where five-story apartment blocks and private houses stand side-by-side on the same street. There are sturdy, well-kept homes, but right next door stand old shacks—mostly inhabited by either the elderly or alcoholics. This summer, one of those shacks burned down; it went up in flames instantly, and the firefighters ended up dousing logs that were already almost completely charred. They found a charred corpse under the rubble. Some police officers I know guarded the body at the fire site all night long, using sticks to shoo away the stray dogs that had gathered around the remains of the shack. One of the cops told me, while standing guard, his mouth practically watered from the smell of roasted meat wafting off the burnt body—he’d been called out on an emergency alert and hadn't managed to eat anything all day except for breakfast.

I’ve always been small and petite. Back in fourth grade, we were playing «Dodgeball»; I threw the ball at a boy, and—somehow, to this day I don't know how—I broke his arm. He vowed to get revenge. Later, after his cast came off, we were playing tag about two weeks later. We were running side-by-side; I gave him a shove, he fell, and he broke his leg. We never spoke again after that. I still feel ashamed about it.

I grew up in the 90s, and we lived in extreme poverty. I remember one time, some relatives or acquaintances gave us a three-liter jug ​​of honey! It was my absolute favorite treat. I used to go out to the balcony where it was kept in a cupboard, dip my finger in to scoop some out, and eat it right there—I must have been about five years old at the time. Then, one day, I reached my finger in… and felt something soft. It turned out I hadn't closed the lid all the way; a mouse had climbed into the jug and drowned right there in the honey. I told my mom; we fished the mouse out… and then we simply went right on eating the rest of the honey. And I hadn't even remembered that a mouse had been swimming in there...

Recently, I watched a couple with a stroller standing at a bus stop, smoking. A bus pulled up; the dad simply tossed his cigarette aside, but the mom stubbed hers out on the pavement, tucked the butt into a pocket on the stroller, and then they headed toward the bus. There was a trash can right next to the stop! Of course, it’s great when people don’t want to litter. But putting a cigarette butt *in the stroller*—that’s something else entirely!

I’m a student, so a 6 a.m. pass for our local pool is dirt cheap. But—unlike in my dorm—the showers there actually have hot water. And at 6 a.m., there’s hardly anyone around—another thing that sets it apart from dorm life. I go there to swim, have a quiet wank, and get washed up. I’m a total night owl, but this is a genuine incentive to drag myself out of bed at such an ungodly hour.

I work at a spa complex that features traditional Russian bathhouses. One day, a drunk guy comes in, and as I’m escorting him to the baths, he says—in the manner of a stereotypical «New Russian» gangster—«Hey there, sweetie, why don't you hook me up with some girls and some vodka?» I reply that ours is a family-friendly establishment and that we don't offer alcohol or «girls.» He pauses for a second to think, then—with a lewd grin, practically slapping me on the butt—he shoots back: «Well, in that case, how about you and I play 'family' for an hour or two?»

My girlfriend is the purest, most innocent creature untouched by the harshness of life. She never uses profanity, never makes dirty jokes. But today, I accidentally overheard a phone conversation she was having with a friend, and I was absolutely fucking floored. It wasn't anything major—just a few words: «fuck,» «shit,» and «bitch.» That’s all… Now, whenever I see her smiling sweetly and looking at me, I’m reminded of that conversation. It feels as though she’s been faking everything. Maybe I’m being an asshole, but I’m honestly having a hard time coming to terms with this. Could it be that my sweet girl has been pulling a fast one on me all along?

For New Year's, my CEO gave me an expensive watch—as he put it himself—as a token of appreciation for my contributions to the company. I really *had* worked hard and deserved some kind of reward, but I was counting on a cash bonus; I have a perfectly average salary, a mortgage, two kids—I’m your classic middle-class guy, basically. So what am I supposed to do with a watch worth fifteen thousand dollars? Wear it with a suit that cost fifty times less? Selling a gift feels wrong somehow; and even if I *were* to sell it, where on earth would I even list something like that? It’s highly unlikely I’d find any buyers for an item like that on a site like Craigslist or eBay. So there it sits, gathering dust in the back corner of my linen drawer.

My wife is, as they say, a «pedant-fictionist.» She always needs everything to be in its proper place. Whenever she finally pushes me over the edge—or starts getting on the kids' nerves—I’ll casually move things around: I might hide her bra inside a pair of boots, or «accidentally» stash her nail polish in the toy bin. She immediately switches gears to cleaning—grumbling all the while—but she can't actually call me out on it; after all, we had an agreement right from the start: keeping the house clean is strictly *her* fucking problem.

I caught my younger brother pulling my bra out of the laundry hamper. It turned out he wasn't a pervert. He’s just getting serious with his very first girlfriend and was studying how the clasp works so he wouldn't embarrass himself when the moment finally arrives.

I visited San Francisco recently. I was walking down one of the main streets toward a shopping mall—looking all beautiful, fully made-up, and dressed to the nines. Suddenly, a local homeless man approached me: «Hi, my name is John. You look so sad. Don't be down; everything’s going to be okay. Let's have a hug.» And he reached out to embrace me. Naturally, I was shocked. But then I started wondering: do I really look that bad? Or are Americans just that obsessed with smiling? I think about it constantly. And about all the diseases you could catch from hugging a homeless person.

I was turning eight at the time. My mother and stepfather had drunk way too much. After the «celebration,» my stepfather called me over to get my present. The «present» turned out to be a ride on his beat-up old moped. He forced me to sit down, then climbed on behind me. I tried to break free, but he was terribly drunk. Two minutes later, we were speeding down the highway—followed by a loud crash and excruciating pain. I woke up in the ICU; I had survived by a miracle, but my stepfather was dead. The only thing my mother said to me was: «Why him, and not you?» I never saw her again… I hate her more than life itself.

I was out walking my dog ​​when I saw a person lying on a patch of grass. He was lying face-down, and he didn't look like a homeless person… I can't just walk past in situations like that—you never know what might be going on; anything can happen in life. I walked over and asked: «Are you alive? Are you okay?» The man lifts his head slightly and, staring at the ground, declares: «Please, everyone—just fuck off! I feel really GOOD right now!» Nodding vaguely into the void, I headed home, while the fellow—having returned to his original position—remained right there on the lawn.

I once had a colleague—a thirty-two-year-old woman: married, with two children. A tough cookie, too, I might add. But then she found out her husband was cheating; she tracked down his mistress—and that’s when the hell broke loose: insults, ambushes outside the apartment building (resulting in a cracked skull), and threats. And not just from her, but from every member of her family. They absolutely hounded the guy: «How could you? You have children, you piece of scum!» The mistress couldn't endure this living hell and eventually bowed out of the picture. But the husband, it seemed, had fallen hard: he started drinking heavily, lashing out at his wife, and beating her. She finally had to let him go when, one night, he tried to strangle their children—who, in his twisted mind, were supposedly the root cause of his misery...

We once went to visit some relatives of ours; they had a three-year-old son—the kind people describe as having «ants in his pants»—absolutely ceaseless in his energy. While all the adults sat in the kitchen chatting over drinks, the boy was left unsupervised. He ran around wildly, making a racket. When we finally went to check on him—wondering why we couldn't hear him anymore—we were absolutely horrified: the child was lying face-down on the floor in a pool of blood, with the tip of a blue pencil sticking out of the back of his neck. Apparently, he’d been running around with the pencil in his hand, fell, and impaled his own throat. The paramedics barely managed to save him.

If you feel like a moron, then remember my friend. He fucked a girl for three months, walked with her in taverns, and so on, well, they are still some kind of esoteric-schizoteric subculture, they get stoned forever… and so my friend all this time did not know that his chick was deaf and dumb, he thought that she is stupid or extinguished forever)) I talked to her, she did not answer or mumbled or showed gestures))

We had sex with a guy, he threw used condoms under the bed. After a hot night, I didn’t find them there, everywhere was searched, but the condoms disappeared… The next day, everything fell into place when his dad shouted from the corridor: “Danya, damn it, your dog is shitting with condoms!”

I absolutely do not want to buy a used car, because I am haunted by the thought that the previous owner farted mercilessly in the driver's seat.

My sister bought herself a bitch fur coat for 100-something thousand, while her little brother needs an operation on his eye so as not to go blind.

Mom says it's her money after all, let her do what she wants.

And I already gave the fucking fur coat back to the store, and now she wants to sue me.

Broken family relationships.

She hinted to the young man that I would very much like to wake up one fine morning from oral sex. In the morning I woke up because he was poking my dick in my mouth.

It just so happened that I have a superpower: since childhood I have not smelled any. Even if the stinkiest spitting bum will fart with me, I will be pissed off. Yes, I don’t smell my mother’s cutlets, the girl’s perfume, but that’s okay, and there are still more bad smells in the world than good ones, at least in our crap town everything is like that. And so, when I get bored, I gorge myself on protein bars and go to the cinema or ride in transport, and I get a hard puff from them. And just imagine, you are sitting in the cinema, farting and watching how a whole row is vacated)) and now you are already at home, lounging on chairs, farting and watching a movie for your pleasure)

Have you ever wondered if you can fry sperm?

In fact, this is the same protein as in the egg.

This question haunted me, and what is said — done.

Accumulated semen for 10 days. Then he jerked off into a glass and fried it with a sausage cut into rounds. In general, you can’t tell the difference from scrambled eggs.

Guys, this is complete fucked up… Just a few hours ago, a relative called me and told me what trick my second cousin had done the other day ...

This small representative of the human race was presented with a fancy smartphone for his birthday (the boy turned 6 years old). Small immediately pumped up various games for himself, and among them was the game «Myausim», I think many have heard about it. So, 2 months have passed, and this small reptile came up with the idea to teach a domestic cat to go to the toilet, just like cats do in the game. No sooner said than done. While the parents were busy with their own affairs, the little slut pushed the poor cat backwards right into the hole in the toilet bowl… I will not go into details, I will only say that after that the poor animal ended up in a veterinary clinic with a fracture of its hind legs, where it died a few hours later from a broken heart. But what killed me the most was that the parents just laughed at this case, saying «children are such children» ...

We had a fucking subject a year ago, it was called LOGIC. The teacher loaded us with some kind of crap, we taught all sorts of shit and he shouted that his subject was the most important, because without logic you can’t live in this wide world. As a result, we came to the exam jerked off, shaking, we didn’t know what and how it would be there. They sat down, he gave us candies and the point was that whoever had the chocolate filling — that five was automatic, who had milk — for retake immediately.

One person yelled:

What the hell is logic? Fucked up… — and threw the notebook on the floor.

The teacher said to him in response: — Quickly came here.

Dude came up and the teacher gave him a four in the test book.

People are in awe, we ask «why the four?»

The teacher «lowered the score for the mat.»

I saw a huge spider on the wall. I didn’t think of anything better than to seal it crosswise with masking tape (I’m in awe, how did I do it). I'm afraid so bad. So the spider has been hanging for the second day under a blanket of scotch tape ...

I was walking down the street, and a guy with a very sour face was walking towards the meeting. I decided to smile at him, cheer up like) He looked at me and how he vomits! I hope he had something with his stomach, and I didn’t act on him like that.

My boyfriend is a body odor fetishist. He can bury himself in my chest, hair, neck, somewhere lower and inhale for a long time, talking about how pleasant I smell. Why a fetishist? Because in the process he gets up) Yes, and he ends at such moments faster and stronger, I indulge in this every time, I check) What can I say, it’s nice for me)

Other Trash Stories

2011. I witnessed a young woman get struck by a car right before my eyes. The driver sped off, flooring the gas pedal. I rushed over to her—her body was completely mangled, and her pelvis was twisted around backward. She was conscious at that moment; spitting up blood, she rasped: «Son! Go pick up my little boy from kindergarten!»—and that was it… Those were her last words.

The fucked-up part is that every few months—or about twice a year—I have a dream about this woman, and she asks me if I’ve picked up her son from kindergarten yet.

I have nightmares often, and even though I’ve mentally prepared myself to run from maniacs and fight for survival, the actual sensation of fear is still far from pleasant. Recently, though, I found a cure for it: using vaginal pleasure balls right before bed. The content of the dream is still basically a horror movie, but the scary sensations are gone—especially when the «maniac» turns out to be a sexy guy, and instead of running for your life, you just have some really good sex.

In the high-rise building across the street lives a woman with her elderly mother. For as long as I’ve lived here, I’ve been absolutely flabbergasted by them. A few years ago, the mother started losing her mind, and she’s been acting like a total lunatic ever since. She’s already brought so much shame and trouble upon her daughter. One day she’ll turn on every faucet in the house, then just lie there on the floor in the rising water. The next, she’ll turn on the gas and go off to bed. She was constantly whispering to herself and often cackled for no reason. More than once, she’s put both her own life and the lives of her neighbors in jeopardy. But the absolute pinnacle of her batshit insanity went down like this: one winter day, she climbed onto the windowsill—stark naked—and stood there in the open window, loudly hurling obscenities at passersby until their ears practically bled. Then she started ripping handfuls of hair out of her head and her crotch, screaming in pain, while simultaneously cackling hysterically—laughing so hard she nearly tumbled right out the window and onto the asphalt below. The neighbors called for an ambulance, but the daughter flat-out refused to let them take her mother to a psychiatric ward. Her excuse? «They’ll just pump her full of drugs there and turn her into a vegetable.» Never mind the fact that she leaves her alone all day long while she’s out… She abandons her sick mother to fend for herself, and she couldn't care less. I’m sick to death of both of them.

I did my clinical rotation in the ICU during my first year of med school. As luck would have it, the very last day of my rotation fell on Friday the 13th. We arrived at the ward that morning to find an elderly woman, wrapped in a blanket, sitting in the hallway right outside the nurses' station. We asked the nurses what had happened. It turned out she had woken up from surgery sometime during the night—early Friday morning—ripped off all her monitors and sensors, and started walking down the corridor stark naked. It was three in the morning; the door to the nurses' station swung open, and there, standing in the doorway completely nude, was the old lady, asking, «Girls… what exactly is going on here?»

They could hear the screaming in the neighboring wards.

I’m a doctor. I recently ran into an old acquaintance—we hadn't seen each other in ages. The moment she saw me, she hit me with a question: «So, I’ve got mastopathy and some yellowish-green discharge coming from my nipples. I tasted it, and it’s bitter and salty. What does that mean?»

I mean, how do you even recover from a conversation like that?

I watched an elderly gentleman—probably around eighty—step off a bus and decide not to bother with the crosswalk; instead, he walked straight across the street. It was a four-lane road—two lanes in each direction—and traffic was heavy: rush hour, right in the city center.

Naturally, everyone came to a halt. Meanwhile, he just ambled along unhurriedly, leaning on his cane. Suddenly, two young guys—one from each of the lead cars—leapt out in perfect sync, took the old man by the arms, and didn't just walk him across—they practically *carried* him over to the sidewalk!

They did it silently and matter-of-factly. Then they hopped back into their cars, and everyone drove off. Good people.

We reached that stage in our relationship where I would pop the pimples on his butt, and he would stand guard while I squatted to pee in the bushes. We reached that stage… and then we broke up. And now, for some reason, I feel like I’ll never be able to trust anyone that deeply ever again.

One time, after having sex with a guy, I noticed dirt under my fingernails (I have long nails, and I’d been scratching his back)—it looked as if he hadn't washed himself in a year. I felt so disgusted and offended! I grabbed his toothbrush and used it to scrub the gunk out from under my nails. I never saw him again.

I used to feel pretty neutral about squirting, mainly because I’d never actually experienced it myself. Then I split up with my husband, and my ex and I started seeing each other again—this time as lovers. Now? I can't just have a regular orgasm—I end up absolutely drenching everything around me. Here I sit, wondering: either my ex-husband has really «honed his skills» in the bedroom, or it’s thanks to the diuretics my cardiologist prescribed. Common sense tells me it’s the medication, but my sentimental, womanly nature keeps insisting that I should go back to that jerk—the one who dumped me, yet fucks me until I’m dehydrated.

My fiancé is a wonderful man. A businessman. In addition to running his own business, he holds down a second job. He is constantly busy with work, even at night. In his spare moments, he studies articles and watches training videos. He stays in shape. He’s the life of any party, with a fantastic sense of humor. He takes good care of me. He’s building a house. Our sex is absolutely incredible—the best I’ve ever had—and after two years, it’s only growing more vibrant and exciting.

And yet… he also attends swinger parties—events where up to 40 couples might be present at once. He exchanges messages with «tops» and «bottoms,» and offers advice to women on the best ways to spank or tie up their husbands. He might drive to another city just to blow a woman, finish on her panties, and have her then throw them in her husband’s face—something the husband absolutely gets off on. Or he might screw someone else’s wife right in front of her husband. Women give him blowjobs in his car while he sips his coffee. People send him photos featuring dildos in their asses and vibrators inside their vaginas.

And I live with all of this.

If I could become a guy for just one day, the very first thing I’d do is jump up and down. I want to experience that sensation—the feeling of your cock bouncing around and slapping against your stomach.

Other Trash Stories

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.

Other Trash Stories

A guy I know from the area found an extreme lover. He also boasted. The two drove to one of the crumbling houses in an area of ​​the city where houses were awaiting demolition. In one of the rooms, she handcuffed him to the bed, and they began to fuck… They were found a couple of weeks later by workers who came to demolish the house and saw the following picture: a girl was lying face down on the bed, instead of a head there was meat, brains, blood, and a leaking eye. Below her is a man with a half-gray head, his mouth covered in blood, his hands and feet handcuffed and fastened to the bed. The girl's neck and shoulder were gnawed off. It turned out that someone crushed the girl’s skull with a blunt object and left. The man turned grey, couldn’t get out, lay there and ate the girl from hunger, and died.

There was a party, and I, being drunk, when my wife fell asleep, gave cunnilingus to her friend… Without leaving the table. Disgusting, of course… It was bad, but I couldn’t resist, and I was pleased. And I love my wife!

I hate a special caste of morons in stores. The same ones who stand and watch their purchases go through. When everything is punched, the fuss begins: look for the store card, then the money, the card, the package, damn… And you stand there like a fool while your purchases are already punched, and this misunderstanding is standing in front of you and checking the receipt for fraud for 50 cents. I dream of separate stores for these idiots.

I usually don't count other people's money, but this is a special case. My sister is a single mother, she has a good job and a normal salary, but then she suddenly began to lack money. Either for my nephew’s shoes, or for textbooks, or for something else. I don't feel sorry, but I'm tense. I asked: “Perhaps there are some problems?” But the answer was: “Everything has just become more expensive.” And then it turned out that she fell in love with a fictional character from the game and spends all the money on donations to a blogger-cosplayer who communicates on behalf of this character. She's a complete fool.

When I lived in a dorm, I had no luck with my roommates. One brought first jaundice, and then scabies. The second one fucked every day with different men and talked about it in detail. The third one ate absolutely all my food. The fourth not only devoured my food, but also snored like a man. The fifth worked as a prostitute in her free time. The sixth one told everyone on every corner about the delights of oral sex and could smear cream on her pubic area in front of everyone. Well, I was a virgin.

No-strings-attached sex with your childhood friend's older sister. Everything is cool, everything suits us, but meanwhile it’s very strange to realize that she once drove us and picked us up from kindergarten, and even babysat us. I'm sure she thinks about it sometimes too

Wife left my friend, and naturally went to his neighbor. Now, in short, the joke is that this neighbor fucks her behind the wall and she screams like a victim… well, my friend thought for a long time, thought about what to do, as a result, now he constantly orders prostitutes, just after his ex-wife done fucking behind the wall, he begins his own and asks them to scream and yell as loud as possible.
This is how fucked up Infinity War is!

I saw a notification on my phone, a friend sent me a photo. Well, I think I’ll take a look, he’ll probably send some funny picture as usual. I open it, and there is her bare chest and the message: “We’ve had enough of being friends, let’s fuck!” This is what I understand nicely) And then I woke up...

I am an exemplary family man: married for 18 years, three children. Sometimes we would argue, and my wife would even move in with her mother for a month, but I never even thought about cheating or leaving for another woman. But then only a girl who had graduated from a university got a job in our department — a short blonde, with a laugh, with a wasp waist and bottomless emerald eyes, she and I quickly found a common language. Due to duty, I have to communicate with her a lot, and every time my penis gets hard, the craziest lustful thoughts arise in my head. Damn it, she’s almost old enough to be my daughter, my balls are already grey, but she’s still a devil in the ribs. For several months I was not myself. The opportunity arose to move to another branch, and starting in the new year I will be leaving there for a management position. No matter how great the temptation, family is most important.

I created a Facebook page on behalf of my classmate’s ex, began writing to her, remembering the past, and began begging for intimate photos. I thought it would block me or she will figure it out right away, but no. I took a closer look — the photos are real, not a neural network, because I remember well the features of her skin and body, I saw her in a swimsuit more than once. I saved it for myself, deleted the page and now periodically admire it. I understand that the act is disgusting, but inside there is a feeling of success that was not there even when I defended my Ph.D. dissertation.

Other Trash Stories

I kicked out my eldest son at 17. I tell everyone, «He's lazy, he didn't want to study, let life show him.» But the real reason is that he started to look like his cruel father, the one who abandoned us. I couldn't stand seeing that face every day.

I've had many partners, including some from other countries, but the one I remember most is a Finnish woman. She had dreadlocks there. When it came to foreplay and I took off her panties, I was stunned. She explained that she'd been growing her hair there for a long time and was very happy with the result. Oh well, I'm not going to dump the girl. I finished what I started. But I still remember the feeling, like I was entering a tarantula, and its legs were spread out like that around the perimeter.

I was vacationing in France and decided to go clubbing with a friend. I met a muscular African guy there. We danced, and he invited me over. I decided no one would know, so I went. It was the best night of my life: delicious wine, wonderful kisses, long sex, a mind-blowing orgasm. We tried every position we knew. In the morning, he said I was the wildest, most unbridled girl. And now I'm back from vacation, modest and respectable. And I'm going back to work soon teaching children.

I've always wanted to learn to endure pain. Well, what if soldiers fight with the wounded? Am I any worse? And so I found a way, a tiny, simple one. I sit in the bathroom, douse myself with a hot shower, and imagine myself being tortured. It's hot, but without water, it's also cold and painful. I quietly scream when it's really bad, and… I jerk off. And you know, I've never experienced such pleasure.

I was riding on a very crowded commuter train. I was standing in the vestibule. There was a guy behind me. I only noticed him when I felt someone's hand reach under my skirt, groping my butt, and then moving further. I was so shocked that I didn't even do anything when he was under my panties… The guy looked so calm; the only thing that moved in his body was his hand, or rather, his fingers… It was the best fingering I've ever had. It relieved all the stress.

A friend wrote after a trip to a sex shop: «The gag doesn't fit in my mouth, and the handcuffs are too big for me—my hands keep slipping. I'm too short for rough sex.» She's 25, by the way.

My boyfriend and I are lying in bed, and he's stroking my hand as I caress his penis. I look, and he's wearing a soldered bracelet. I say, «Wow, just like Dad's!» His eyes got wide, so at first I didn't even understand what was wrong. Then I realized. Through my laughter, I somehow managed to explain that I was talking about the damn bracelet. God, when will I stop getting into such stupid situations?

My girlfriend gets incredibly turned on when I'm fixing something, assembling furniture, or tinkering with something. She pounces on me like a hungry cat. Yes, I love sex, but eventually the mood gets lost, and a lot of things remain unfinished, and then she grumbles. I have to wait until she goes somewhere and sit and do everything in peace.

My mother-in-law is visiting. I came home from work yesterday and someone had pissed on our bed. The cats (there are two of them) had never done that before. It turns out my mother-in-law was irritated by the meowing and decided to lock the kittens in the room. In her defense, she said, «Well, I can hold it when I need to go to the bathroom, why can't your cats?!»

I hate my upstairs neighbors. They have small children, and they run around all day, riding bikes, banging things, jumping on a ball. On weekdays, I get up for work at 5 a.m., so I have to go to bed no later than 10 p.m. But the kids run around until midnight, then their parents start yelling at them because they're awake, and they start crying. Then the neighbors fuck until 2 a.m. On weekends, it's the same thing, and they get up early too. It turns out I can never wake up and go to bed when I want to. I've already gone to them, called the police, and written to child protection services, but they don't care. I can't stand not getting enough sleep every day anymore; I get headaches every day. I can still hear them perfectly well through earplugs; even my bed and the walls shake from their jumping around. It's becoming impossible to spend a quiet day or evening because of these fucking horses upstairs. I'm about to put a curse on them because I hate them.

At work, I told them I don't pay for online movie theater subscriptions because my account is added to my ex-husband's family group, and I continue to use his subscription, even though we've been separated for two years. And I don't know if he's forgotten about it or just doesn't care, but either way, I like everything.

The guys were absolutely furious at this consumerism. They were foaming at the mouth, trying to convince me that I should get rid of it right now and reimburse all expenses for the past two years. That it was dishonest, disgusting, criminal, and much more.

This topic has been raging among the male colleagues for three days now. It seems like the female plate-holders aren't enough for the guys to get their asses lit up – it's time to introduce a category of female subscribers!

I can't stand simple, simplistic people who chatter about everything—there are no taboo topics for them. A new 35-year-old employee started work. On the second day, she told me how much her car, which she bought on credit, cost. A week later, we learned about her gynecological problems, digestive issues, how the underwear she bought had chafed in an unexpected place, and how she despises women who «shave there.» Now she's quiet after her boss's remark. We don't know how long she'll last—perhaps she won't pass her probationary period.

I'm waiting for the courier outside the office when I suddenly hear a sharp voice: «Open the door!» Not «please» or «open»—«open.» I see a girl striding toward the building, proudly carrying a huge bouquet. And the door is old, you could even say antique—you know: those heavy ones, three meters high, with a super-tight spring mechanism. It's hard to hold onto someone like that even with my hands free, let alone with a bouquet. Okay, I thought, screw it. Just because Mom and Dad didn't teach someone manners doesn't mean I have to be the same boor. I opened the door silently and stood there like a model doorman. The Queen didn't even quicken her pace for half a second out of politeness; she just walked on pompously, not even looking at me. Finally, she walked past… and then—I swear, it was completely unintentional!—my handle slipped, the door hit her in the back with all its force, giving her such a boost that she tumbled two meters with her bouquet to the reception desk! Holy shit!

Later, the receptionist told me that this girl works in the next department and really likes to brag about her rich husband to her colleagues, who live paycheck to paycheck. That's why she brings bouquets and gifts into the office. On the one hand, I'm incredibly embarrassed, but on the other, I can't stop laughing: well, the goal has been achieved—this bouquet has definitely been noticed and discussed!

I get aroused by fear. I have no idea why this happens; I felt this way back in my teens. My family was wonderful, and I'm quite the womanizer. But adrenaline is the only arousal, nothing more. I understand that dating guys who look cruel and dangerous is foolish and unwise. I don't want to get into trouble, I don't want to hurt my loved ones, but life without orgasms is sad. I tried dating a nice, kind guy who wouldn't hurt a fly, but we ended up using lube because it was so dry.

I like it when people spy on me. And not stare at me directly, but peek through a crack. It all started a couple of years ago when I didn't close the lock tightly in the fitting room. Then I caught someone staring at me, but I didn't feel the urge to close it up; instead, I wanted to leave that tiny gap. Since then, I never close myself completely in the fitting room, leaving a small crack and catching glances.

I told my husband about some family friends, over 65, getting divorced because they found out they were cheating on each other. He caught her jumping on a neighbor in a car near their house, and she found photos of an orgy at a fishing trip. My husband was stunned for a long time, wondering how anyone could have sex at that age! I said, «Haven't you ever heard your parents have sex?» Then I remembered my mother-in-law saying that my father-in-law became impotent after turning 35. I'm sad for them, scared for my future… I'm hoping for sex in old age!

Other Trash Stories

My mother says, «Oh, you've grown up, son, hickeys on your neck, that means you've got a girlfriend.» And I nod, like, yeah, Mom, life's moving on… But I'm burning with shame. Because there's no girlfriend at all. That's not a hickey – it's a bruise. And the story is this: I decided to try to steal money from a gypsy in a wheelchair. Well, I thought, he won't catch me. But that bastard jumped up like Usain Bolt on adrenaline, caught up with me in two jumps and started strangling me as if I had offended his whole family. So yes, the bruise on my neck is not from love, but from gypsy rage...

A doctor colleague told me this story. They brought in a deranged man who, in a fit of rage, cut off his penis. There was a sea of ​​blood, but the doctors performed a miracle and sewed everything back on, better than it was before. So imagine the doctors' surprise when this guy was brought in again soon after, but… This time he cut off and chopped his penis into small pieces, starting from the tip. To make sure they couldn't sew it back on.

My boyfriend likes to put my hair ties on his penis and masturbate with them. He calls it a dedication. Now all my hair ties are «dedicated.» It's funny giving them to my friends when I know where they've been.

I have very few friends. So I hire a prostitute and we have very nice conversations, watch movies… Lately, she's stopped taking payment and we're kind of like friends now.

I put my shoes up for sale. A buyer was found. I thought that the man was probably choosing a gift for his wife. I was happy, rubbing my hands together. But he writes that he won't buy them, but he'll pay me to let him smell them.

I'm sitting here and I don't know how to react to this.

My husband and I went on our honeymoon, spent a fortune on the trip, so we expected the sea, the beach, and some cultural enrichment. In three weeks, we only left the hotel four times. All we got was a lot of sex. We were angry with ourselves, because we could have had sex at home, but we couldn't help ourselves. We promised each other that we wouldn't make the same mistake next time.

Six years ago, when I was studying medicine, several people from my group were sent to America for a few days for practical training. When we left, we thought we'd have a blast after work. From the airport, we were assigned to hospitals in pairs and locked in white basements that looked like a morgue. Every day they brought us 15-20 corpses, and we had to remove epithelial tissue. We slept with them in the room. There wasn't much space, and they were lying under our couches, on top of each other, standing against the wall. At night we would wake up because air was escaping from the bodies, the stench was terrible. We only saw the city through a grate in the wall of the toilet. When we got home, some of us couldn't stop drinking for a month. What a great trip that was.

I sadly remember how a threesome fell through when I was younger. I was staying at my girlfriend's place, she invited her friend over, we had wine, fun music, dancing, and then we were kissing in bed. My head was spinning with excitement and alcohol, I was going to be the hero of a MFF threesome. We were already undressed, warmth on the right – breasts sliding against my shoulder, warmth on the left, two more large ones pressing down on me. I was squeezing them, enjoying myself. And then my girlfriend suddenly snapped and yelled obscenities: «Get away from my man!» – the other girl got offended and left. I was lying there in shock with an erection. Now I have a family, two children. Ah, nostalgia.

Yesterday, my boyfriend and I were having sex, everything was going fine. Moans and groans, then he decided to turn me over, and in the «I'm on my knees» position, he started performing oral sex on me. A minute passed, I felt the amplitude of his movements change, and then he just ran away. It turned out he felt nauseous and ran to the toilet… What a fucked-up situation. First time in my life something like this has happened. I had showered before sex.

I like to masturbate while driving. I get in the car, take off my pants and underwear, step on the gas, and off I go. An incredible adrenaline rush! I feel like Superman!

I've been dating my boyfriend for over a year, and the relationship is losing its spark. To spice things up, we've been practicing anal sex. He took a long time to get inside me, but he finally did. It even felt good afterwards. When he finished and pulled out, I accidentally defecated on him, very liquidy. He immediately ran to the shower, and I went to bed, burning with shame. When he came back into the room, his words killed me even more: «Now that's what I call adding some spice to the relationship!» He promised not to mention it again, but I'm still ASHAMED.

I believe that money should be treated with respect. I collect all the coins I find lying around, I don't even disdain pennies. I believe there's a law of money circulation. Many of my acquaintances don't consider small change as real money, they leave it lying around the house or, if they accidentally drop it, they don't pick it up. And I've noticed one thing: those who have coins scattered all over their apartment because they don't need them, usually experience a lack of money, and vice versa. And my husband and I are quite well-off.

One night, we (me, my friend, and our boyfriends) went to a party at a friend's place. His neighbor, a huge guy, lived in the next room. We all drank together that night, and early in the morning, our friend had to leave. He said, «Sleep well, have breakfast, and then you can go home.» We got up (the neighbor was still asleep), washed all the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, bought food for everyone, and were sitting around cooking while drinking beer. And then, when the chicken in the oven started to brown, this huge jerk came out of his room and told us to get out of the apartment immediately. To our timid objections about the food and beer we had bought, he responded with threats of physical violence. In short, when the guy went to the toilet, we quickly removed the baking sheet with undercooked chicken legs from the oven, took the huge pot of half-cooked rice off the stove, and dumped all the contents into a large bag. Naturally, we also grabbed the beer from the refrigerator, after which we successfully retreated with a hearty laugh.

Happy hangover to you, asshole!))

I haven't had sex in a long time. My husband is far away. I started having erotic dreams. Yesterday I thought I'd come home from work, finish all my chores, and masturbate before bed while watching porn. I remember coming home from work. I remember doing the chores. I even put the vibrator under my pillow before going to bed. And then I lay down, and that was it. I only opened my eyes in the morning. I didn't even have the strength to masturbate. That's awful!

I was walking home when a sports BMW sped past me, driven by a girl. She splashed me from head to toe with mud, and I was already soaking wet. As she was turning out of the courtyard, she slowed down, and I quickly managed to mold a lump of mud and snow and throw it at her driver's door, right at the window. The window was closed. She stopped completely and started getting out of the car, apparently to beat me up, showering me with the worst insults. While she was getting out, I wanted to run away, but since her leg came out first, I managed to notice that she was wearing a fur coat and huge heels. Feeling superior in my comfortable clothes and flat boots, I decided that I would beat her up, and calmly let her get out of the car. She flew at me, and I grabbed her by both shoulders, shoved her into the mess she had spilled on me, and quickly ran into the building entrance, shouting that she was a bitch and a fucking loser! In the end, I was as dirty as a pig, but I was the hero of the day and victorious.

Other Trash Stories

I love jumping off roofs. In our city, there's this activity where you jump off roofs with safety ropes. The people who organize it give you a piece of paper before the jump stating that they are not responsible for injuries and all that. Well, a year ago I went there again, and besides me, there was a couple in love; they wanted to jump together. I was standing behind them in line. They were properly harnessed, and given the command that they could jump. They held hands and jumped on the count of three. The girl's rope broke, she fell, and her boyfriend was left hanging. She didn't die immediately; she lay there with a crushed head, looking up at her boyfriend for almost a minute, and he was screaming. I don't jump off roofs anymore. P.S. Nobody else from our group jumps off roofs anymore either.

My friend told me that she periodically cheats on her husband, and I listened without much interest, well, it happens. And yesterday she called me and described in detail how her lover had sex with her in every possible way… I'm shocked, why would I need to know that? And after the conversation, she sends me a picture of his penis… I don't even know why I need so many details? Maybe it's an advertisement?...

We've been together for a year and a half. We live in love, we've gone through a lot of crap together, our sex life is incredibly varied, in terms of positions, anal sex, etc., there are almost no taboos. He's seen me terribly sick, with diarrhea, vomiting, drunk… I know everything about him, we do everything that comes to mind. But he's embarrassed to shave his testicles in front of me and locks himself in the bathroom every time. What kind of secret ritual is this?!

I work in emergency medical services, and it's hard to surprise me. But this spring we examined a corpse in a wooded area, a girl, apparently a suicide or mentally ill. She left home at the end of February, and in April she thawed out in the forest, dressed in a light dress, sneakers and a Panama hat, with a drawing album, several pencils and pens. The album contained two or three pages of drawings — snowdrifts, bare trees, a snow-covered field with a chain of footprints and a sunset. She went into the forest in winter almost without clothes and drew the snow until she froze to death.

It was a long time ago. I became interested in palmistry. And it came easily to me. Reading people's fate from their hands, their past, present and future. Not seeing everything as it is in reality, but let's say, the vector of direction and the possible date of an event with an accuracy of up to a year. So I decided to learn to find signs of death in addition to simple signs. I succeeded, but I didn't attach much importance to it until I looked at my friends' hands one day. Two of them (a guy and a girl) were supposed to die in a car accident, and one was supposed to drown. And all in the near future. I warned them and told them to be more careful. A month later, the couple died in a head-on collision with a truck on the highway. And the guy drowned while drunk that same summer. After that, I quit, and I'm still shaking when I think about it.

Yesterday my mom said she had never watched porn in her life… so she suggested we watch some in the evening, since I'm a grown-up daughter now… I thought my mom had just had too much to drink, but no, she's asking for the same thing again today. What should I do, show her porn?! And what kind?

I was friends with a semen enthusiast. She was so obsessed with its taste that she didn't miss a single, let's say, available drop. She not only gave her boyfriend oral sex, but also squeezed semen out of condoms and ate it. She wasn't a «semen priestess,» meaning she didn't cheat on her boyfriend. However, at every opportunity, at parties and in clubs, she would ask acquaintances for their used condoms with semen. And they often gave them to her, some even for money. I asked her why she needed it, and the answer was: «Semen tastes good, that's all.» Well… to each their own.

When my brother was breaking up with his girlfriend in a big fight, and she was moving out of his apartment, he ejaculated into her shampoo, and she put pubic hair in his loose-leaf tea. It's not surprising that they got back together after a while – you'd have to search far and wide to find two such idiots.

For our 3rd anniversary, I was given socks, SOCKS! The most ordinary, cheap socks! When I opened the «gift» with a suspicious look on my face, something fell out of one of them and rolled under the sofa. Suppressing my righteous anger, I crawled after it, and there, covered in dust, lay a beautiful engagement ring! I crawled out, looked, and this miracle was kneeling with a blissful smile and saying: «Dobby wants to have a master!» It was both funny and sad.

I live with real pigs! My mother has let herself go so much that the hair on her legs is 2 centimeters long! She only showers when she needs to leave the house, which is very rarely. And the most disgusting thing is that she has farted up her bedroom so badly that it's practically impossible to go in there.

My stepfather washes himself once every three weeks. When he walks by, he leaves a trail of sweaty stench. And yet, they complain about why I shower every day, saying it's too often.

My friend is incredibly jealous, constantly checking her husband's phone, calling him from other people's numbers and offering to meet up, always searching his things «hoping» to find condoms or something else. Her latest test was spraying his jacket with my perfume and confronting her husband, wanting to see his reaction and how he would justify himself. But what happened was something she definitely didn't expect – he confessed to cheating. She checked too much...

Other Trash Stories

I bought an alarm clock that rolls away on wheels when it goes off. The idea is that you wake up immediately when you try to catch it. This morning it rang, and while I was chasing it, I hit my head on the nightstand and fell asleep again.

We have a guy nicknamed «Terminal.» Why «Terminal»? Because he got drunk at a party, and someone, as a joke, inserted a credit card into his anus, and it WENT inside, and then the doctors had to remove it...

I work in a sex shop. There's a veterinary pharmacy next door, and because of its huge sign, animal lovers sometimes come into our store. Today, an 85-year-old woman with a dog came in. She stopped, mumbled something, and bought a rubber penis. Then she gave it to the dog to hold in its mouth and left.

My mother gives me hickeys while I'm sleeping so that my girlfriend will get jealous and break up with me.

This has probably happened to many people, and now it's happened to me. My loved one, with whom I've been together for five years, cheated on me. When I found out, I didn't make a scene, play the drama queen, or anything like that. I pretended everything was fine, and then, in revenge, I slept with his father. I'm not ashamed.

My father told me about a friend of his who went to jail for nothing. Yes, that happens. He slept with a girl, and she gave him an ultimatum: «Either marry me, or I'll have you arrested.» The girl's father was a big shot and had many connections. The guy chose the second option out of principle and served 6 years. He was released, breathed the free air for 3 days, and then went back to jail. Of course, it's cliché, but he killed that girl, hacked her to death with an axe, although I don't know the details of exactly how and where. Soon the murdered girl's mother died of a heart attack, and her father, a «big shot,» became an alcoholic and lay around outside the store, reeking of urine.

That's the story.

The end.

The most amazing sex I ever had was when my boyfriend undressed me, positioned me with my butt in the air, and shoved a bouquet of flowers up my ass, branch by branch. He slapped my butt and ordered me to stay like that while he was busy with his own things. I've never been so wet before or since.

I cheated on my husband. I told him myself and suggested a divorce. He refused. And that he actually liked all of this and wanted more details and to be present. My lover and I are shocked, we don't know what to do. Because we had planned it exclusively «for health reasons,» not to live in a threesome with a cuckold. I filed for divorce and broke up with my lover. I don't need this kind of drama.

My wife, if she hasn't had sex for even a day, suddenly turns into a real demon, incinerating everything and everyone, but if she has had sex, she's a sweet little angel. That's how things started between us, when she answered the question, «Why are you so angry?» with, «Because I'm not getting laid!»

Tonight I woke up from an orgasm. A few minutes later, from another one. I wasn't dreaming anything erotic at the time, and I hadn't watched or read anything like that since the evening. I decided that my body decided to pamper me this way: after all, this isn't the best period in my life without work and sex… Well, thank you! It's nice, damn it.

Hey everyone, so my girlfriend and I have a cat, and he's been driving me crazy. So, to get my girlfriend to get rid of him, I decided to poop in her backpack and say it was the cat. But she realized that this huge pile of… well, wasn't from a cat. We're not together anymore.

A colleague came out of the bathroom and asked me to take the key to the office from his pocket, since his hands were wet. And besides the key, I also felt his thick penis. Awkward silence and he’s like: “This is not the key...” It seems like I need to forget, but I can’t get it out of my head. Lack of sex takes its toll :(

I had such a good time at the wedding that the next morning I woke up in another city in bed with a witness. How did I get there and why with him, I don’t know… And the most important thing is that I’m a bride..

I was looking at a photo of a colleague on my phone. In the photo she is lying barefoot with her legs raised on a haystack, her heels, feet, and soles of her feet are visible. I’m a foot fetishist, I’m obsessed with photos like this, plus i like her. I got hard. My wife comes in, sees my boner, and asks: “Do you like it?” Well, there’s nowhere to go, I say: “Yes.” And she puts her hand into my underwear, takes out my erect penis and starts jerking me off. I continue to look at my colleague's feet and heels in the photo. I have never come so violently in my life.

My man is very sexy, older than me and more experienced, he taught me to enjoy stimulation in the shower, I myself have not even tried this in my 27 years. The first time we went into the shower together, he made the right pressure, directed it where needed, and he put his foot on the bathtub and began to jerk off. From all this action I came within 30 seconds...

Large hypermarkets are approximately 50 km away along country roads with almost no cars. Missing sex, my wife offered a blowjob while I was driving. The feeling is very cool, despite the fact that all the concentration is on the road. It doesn’t affect the possibility of an accident, I don’t take my eyes off the road and just drive even more carefully. It’s especially cool that now this has become a rule when traveling to those distant stores.

Other Trash Stories

My sweetheart and I have been together for five years now. When she said a few years ago that she was ready for the first time in an intimate way, she asked me to do it while she was out, because she was very afraid of pain. I didn't want to at first, but she said she was very afraid, so I agreed. Situation: she's fast asleep after sleeping pills, and then the key turns in the lock, and suddenly her parents come in, see me naked and their daughter unconscious. The first acquaintance took place, damn it!

My boyfriend can sometimes drink from my glass if he gets another one, and that annoys me. And one day I told him, they say, it's unhygienic, suddenly he'll think about it and won't take any more. And he said, «Honey, I stuck my finger up your ass yesterday and then licked it. What can we talk about at all?» He finished my water with a straight face.

5 years ago, when I was preparing for an external test after 11th grade, my alcoholic neighbors were always noisy. Phrases like «give me my schmalz!!!» were often heard from behind the wall. And «what are you doing? You should have been afraid when we were demolishing the huts!!!» This fucking started at 11 a.m. and ended around five in the morning. Naturally, I couldn't sleep all this time. As a result of a week's lack of sleep, I wrote tests worse than I expected. There was a huge grudge against the neighbors. Before my admission to the military university, I lay and listened to a neighbor fucking a neighbor just behind my wall. Feeling no pity for these degenerates, I lay and listened to her screams and the sounds of banging on the walls. It turned out he was killing her.

Her underground, him in jail. Serves them right.

I graduated this year and my position has a good salary. Now I'm lying here thinking, can I buy out this empty apartment, tear down the wall and live in a 4-room apartment?

My husband had problems with alcohol, and after a long struggle with this problem, he decided to code. Now he doesn't drink. I wish I could live and enjoy it, BUT now we don't have sex. He doesn't have the slightest desire, either mentally or physically; he even lost his morning erection. We live like brother and sister. I am very sad.

My wife doesn't want me and expresses it very harshly.: «I'm not going to suck a dick for 20 minutes so that you poke me with it for 30 seconds.» I've been having problems with potency for the last few years, but what am I going to do? Finger caresses are not interesting to her, cunnilingus always causes some kind of inflammation (in her words), and with toys my participation in the process is very mediocre, and she copes better. She suggests taking pills, but I have concerns that nothing will work out without them later. What the fuck is necessary? We've been together for almost 10 years, at the beginning of our relationship we didn't get out of bed, and now: «No boner, no sex.»

When I was young, I often fapped. I was watching a movie on TV late one night, and my mom went to bed. I thought she was asleep, and I let my hands run wild. Then my mom calls me and asks who is moaning there (and I did it all silently, probably). I said I was laughing like that. And then, to confirm her words, I began to laugh, moaning. I have never seen such a reproach in the eyes of a cat.

My boyfriend is unrealistically dragged when I caress my own breasts with my mouth (fortunately, the size allows). I like it myself, of course, but sometimes that's what our whole foreplay consists of. I do, he looks and faps, and then sex. Somehow the effect is not very good, I'll tell you. I hinted and said bluntly that I didn't mind, but I would like him to participate in the process himself. But that's exactly what he wants, he gets pleasure from it, you see. :(

I'm married for the second time, and the second time I'm fucking wrong in my choice (( well, how come fucking people fuck you wherever they can at the beginning of a relationship, and a year later it turns out he can't do more than 5 minutes, you see, he doesn't need sex at all, but what the fuck should a woman do in such a situation???? If you got her used to it first, and then it turns out you just wanted to make an impression. I never cheated, but now I just dream of finding a good lover, the universe is sending you a request))))!

I went into the hospital bathroom and saw a woman washing her ass in the sink. You can't disentangle what you've seen.

I graduated from the university last year. There was a guy in our group who studied well, mostly closed for 5, but unfortunately did not make it to the red diploma. At the banquet on the occasion of our graduation (where some parents were present, by the way), he drank well and took the microphone to say a farewell speech. At that time, his mother was letting a tear of emotion run down her cheek, which is nothing shameful… So, when he saw her tears, he interrupted his speech with the words: «Mom, stop crying already because of this diploma. Well, blue and blue, fuck it...»

We bought an apartment at auction, which no one had lived in for many years. I had to spend all my savings for this, and also get into debt, but it was a very good option. Sorting through the trash, we found sugar bags in the far corner of the mezzanine, which contained whole bundles of banknotes in denominations of 5, 10 and 20 dollars issued in the 1990s. Only 14,750 dollars. How they were not found before is a mystery. But now there is something to pay off the creditors.

Brother's wife is preparing to run away from the family. I am 100% sure of it. For more than a year, her motto has been: «All life should fit in a suitcase.» She fanatically clutters up, but only in her own things. Tons of toys and children's clothes, brother's trash doesn't touch at all! She has already told her parents and brother many times about her suspicions, they just laugh — she looks like a «successful mother of four angels.» It's clear that this is a mask, and she got fed up with everyday life, groundhog day and wiping bugs. And my brother became openly fat and boring. Who wouldn't howl? It got to the point where she bragged to me that she had finally packed all her things in a suitcase. Apparently, escape is coming soon.

My wife is cheating on me. I'm 100% sure of it, and she doesn't hide it much. Why don't I file for divorce? It's about her father: he's a rich and influential man with connections who once helped me a lot to move forward in my career. I have a great relationship with him, but even before the wedding, he told me: «If you offend my daughter, you will be left penniless, I will contribute to this.» And I don't want to change my lifestyle and social status. I'm ashamed and disgusted with myself, but I know for sure that in the event of a divorce, my father-in-law will do everything to multiply my life by zero, and I can't do anything against it yet.

There are 3 good girlfriends, all mimetic to the limit. They say about such people: «They take a dick in their mouth with a fork.» So, over time, I fucked each of them with special cruelty. And each one said «in secret» that the other 2 couldn't stand me and wouldn't let me touch them. Hypocrisy is such hypocrisy…

When visiting, I can always determine the family atmosphere by the order in the apartment. People are in conflict with each other and with themselves with a kind of old shit: dried food, dust in the corners, some boxes with old shoes, things falling out of an open closet. Neurotics with OCD have perfect cleanliness: not a speck, not a speck of dust, not a hair. The children and the spouse walk along the line, afraid to violate this hospital sterility, because otherwise there will be a lecture or a tantrum. And how easy it is to breathe in a house where healthy people live with normal, adequate relationships. There's no shit, but there's no slickness either. Somewhere there is a mug of unfinished tea, somewhere there are children's shorts, wool in the cat's cot. And people smile at each other.

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