sharon g. (part 2)

be sure to check out journal entry
sharon g. (part 1)

dear ej,

I'm a big basket of emotions right now! As a matter of fact, you can add fear and embarrassment to the mix. I know I'm not getting any sleep tonight. Not after what happened.

Ok, so picking up where I left off last time, he rings the doorbell. I'm all nervous, but trying to be sexy at the same time. I go to the door, but I realise I'm about to open it wearing a black lace teddy and high heels. I think to myself, "Hold on girl, this ain't the fuckin' Bunny Ranch." I'm not trying make him think he's gonna just walk into some pussy, you know? So, I run start running to my bedroom to get my bathrobe out of the closet.

Bad move. The heel breaks on my left shoe, and I lose my balance. As I'm falling, I push one of the end tables out of my way so that I don't fall into it, but I'll fall into the couch instead. Bad move. One of the vases my mother gave to me crashes to the floor. She is going to whoop my ass.

Anyway, I get my robe, put it on, and throw my heels into the closet. I'm thinking it might be better to just wear no shoes since I gotta hurry up and run to the door. Bad move. Remember the vase that broke? I slip on a big piece of it as get into the living room. Good thing it was ceramic, or else it might've cut me. But I did hurt my wrist breaking my fall.

So, at this point, I'm thinking maybe I should stop running through this place. I take a deep breath and I open the door. I'm trying to smile, even though I'm thinking, 'I know he just heard all that damn noise.' Sean has this smirk on his face like what the hell was going on in there! But he doesn't say anything stupid. Instead, he gives me a big hug and whispers in my ear, "You need me to help you clean up whatever you broke in there?"

I accepted his offer and let him in after I was done enjoying his warm embrace. He made me laugh to try and lighten the moment as we cleaned up the broken vase, found the heel of my shoe, and put the end table back where it belonged. Before you know it we were having a great time talking and drinking the champagne as we sat together on the couch. Ok, we didn't just sit on the couch. We were kind of all over each other on the couch.

Pretty soon we ended up in my bedroom. I guess you could say everything was going well. At least for him it was. I mean, I can't say I was putting up very much resistance. Ok, maybe no resistance. Sean is scorching hot, after all. When he took his shirt off, I kind of, melted like this morning's breakfast butter. That must've been part of his game plan, because every time my eyes found his chest and his sculped abs, they'd just roll up in my head again. But then he decided he wanted to flip me over and hit it from the back. Bad move.

As soon as I got on my hands and knees, my wrist burst into flames. Well, not literally. But this was the same wrist I hurt earlier when I broke my fall while slipping on the broken vase. I guess putting pressure on it reaggravated the injury. So instead of telling Sean I was in excruciating pain, I let him go ahead and get in me like Keith Murray. Bad move. Maybe I thought the pleasure of good sex would drown out the pain. It didn't. And after a few moments of pumping me like a piston, Sean discovered that the chassis had run out of lube.

Yeah. It was like metal grinding on metal in there. I was so embarrassed I couldn't lift my head to face him. He pulls out and tries to comfort me. He's all rubbing my back and asking "What's wrong?" and "Are you ok?" And there I am, still on all fours with my ass in the air and my face burried in my pillow ready to cry. Finally, he lays me on my side and spoons with me until I fall asleep. When I woke up this morning he was gone.

And I thought I was uncertain and nervous before! Now I'm going crazy wondering when or even if he's gonna call me today. Maybe I should call him and tell him what happened to me. Is he going to think I'm silly for not saying anything last night? Maybe he's going to think I'm an emotional wreck and decide I'm not worth the trouble. Maybe I... Oh shit... The phone's ringing.

-- sharon g.

i'm sick of all the bullshit (the preclude)

precludes "you're sick of
the bullshit?" by romey.in.va

Guestblog from
Curlycurvynervy
author of: "summa this & summa that"

I'm sick of all the bullshit,
I'm tired of all the games,
I'm tired of pointing fingers,
I'm tired of calling names,
My head just keeps on spinning,
I cannot make it stop.
I cannot keep on going,
I think I may just drop.
I can't deceive myself
I need to heed the truth.
I want to believe in us,
but I'm afraid there is no proof.
No sign of your faith,
No way for me to know,
what's real or just a game...
I'm full of hate, of rage and jealousy..
Of envy and despair
I want to run, to scream...to free this part of me.
To inhale fresher air..
I need to exorcise, rid myself of these feelings
detoxify, cleanse, flush out all the demons.
I gave you only love,
You gave me only lemons
I tried to make it sweeter
to make it wonderful...
You poisoned every drop,
and killed most of my hope, my faith, my sincerity...
I only feel sadness, and empty all inside..
I have nothing left to give,
no more gas to fuel the ride.
This is my moment of silence,
my time to marinate,
My chance to sit and ponder,
Just what road I will take

natalie c. (part 2 of david e.)

be sure to check out journal entry
david e. (part 1)

dear ej,

Classes are done. Finals have been taken. Second semester is over. My dorm room is all packed up. I have my plane ticket home. Now comes the hard part. Somehow I have to find the nerve to face David. Gosh, there's so much he doesn't know.

He probably hates me. Not that I would blame him. I guess I probably seemed pretty selfish. I really didn't explain myself much at the time. All that b.s. about meeting new people, seeing what else is out there, experiencing different things. I can't believe I actually pushed that through my lips. I lied right to his face. But it was easier than telling him the truth. It was easier than telling him about the baby.

It was easier than telling him that I had hidden a pregnancy. A pregnancy that was conceived on our prom night. A night that was so perfect and so beautiful. But it was a night that produced something that I was not ready for. I know I was irresponsible for not using protection. But I couldn't have that baby. Not now. Not with all the pressure I have on me to succeed.

From the time I was a kid. Learning to read at age 3. My uncle always calling my parents from jail. Putting me on the phone so that he could hear me read something to him. A magazine, a TV Guide. Anything. My grandmother has scrapbooked my every report card since middle school. My father paid $800 to broadcast my high school graduation on local cable tv when he found out that I would be Valedictorian.

I had every relative calling me all the time asking which school I had decided on. Everybody was reminding me that I'd be the first of Papa Charles' great-grandchildren to make it. I was going to restart the tradition since none of his grandchildren and only one of his children went to college. I was the smart one. I was the good girl.

Maybe that's why I was irresponsible that night. Maybe that's why it felt so good. One moment of sweet rebellion. It's weird. You want to do something. But then people expect you to do something. It starts out as something for you. But then it becomes something for them. Soon, you don't want to do something as much as you did before. But if you don't do it you'll be a disappointment. You'll be a statistic. You'll be a lost cause. You'll be a wasted effort. You'll be a failure. I couldn't have that baby. Not now.

But after that procedure, the guilt set in. First about the baby. Then about not telling David. Then about not telling my family. Then I remembered all the pressure that was on me. I just wanted to get away. As far away as I could. Far away from the pressure. Far away from the guilt. But inevitably, there is no escape.

I have to begin to deal with this. I love him too much to let this continue. Now comes the hard part. How do I get him to talk to me?

-- natalie c.

you're sick of the bullshit? (the reply)

romey.in.va's reply to
"i'm sick of all the bullshit"
by Curlycurvynervy
author of:
"summa this and summa that"

why must it be me who gets blamed?
when you met me, you knew I was untamed
that's what attracted you after all
that's why you answered when I called
you chose the challenge, admit it baby
thought you'd be the one to drive me crazy
but instead it was you who lost control
so many nites I gave you pleasures untold
now you're telling me your sick of the bullshit?
because you're upset that I won't commit?
don't get me wrong, pain is not what I want to cause you
but I won't shed a tear if I've lost you
the remedy is to remain patiently
if you really want my love wait for me

-- romey.in.va

stacy j.

dear ej,

I went over there because i had to know if I was over him. I had to know if I had him out of my system. Of course I had to make it look innocent, as if I had a legitimate agenda. So I told him about a new web-based business that I'm starting and that I wanted to present him an offer to invest. I knew he would try something. The question would be could I resist him when he did.

I was doing very well at first. I shrugged off his extremely long and deep opening hug. I ignored the very clever ways he found to touch me. First on my hand, then my wrist, then my shoulders; even around my waist. He was always slick as hell and he knew just how to push my buttons.

Then something happened. After I switched the subject back to my presentation for the tenth time, his cell phone rang. He excused himself over to the other side of the room so that I could only hear his conversation if I realy wanted to. Which I didn't, at first. Not until I noticed that he had lowered his voice into that trademark sexy baritone, and started showing his devlish grin. Admittedly, I started to get a little jealous, now that it seemed his seduction efforts were being applied to someone else.

I cleared my throat and waved his attention back over to me and he finally ended his phone call. when he came back over and sat on the sofa next to me, he was strangely on his best behavior. He left almost a full seat cushion between us. No more touching, no innuendo, no funny business. I was blown.

I could hardly consentrate from that point on. Curiosity got the best of me. Who the hell was that on the phone? Was she so hot that a call from her could take his mind off of me and I'm right here in his face? My mission went from playin hard to get, to seek and destroy. We had history. He knew what spots to hit when it came to me, but I knew how to turn him on just as well.

I started slowly at first, sliding over closer to him as I spoke, holding documents over to him so that I could bring my face over to his as we read. You could feel the heat rise between us. But he was still holding out. Then I would turn my back to him and bend over to get papers out of my briefcase. He was a sucker for my juicy ass. Then I pulled out the final carrot. I bent over toward him so that he could see straight down into the cleavage of my low-cut blouse as I read some points of my business plan. He is a breast man most of all, and my 'd' cups were the first thing he noticed on me when we met.

Next thing I know I felt his wet tounge slowly trace my ear. It sent a shockwave down my spine and I froze. He did it again and I lost control. Everything after that is a blur.

I remember just bits and pieces. I remember jamming my tounge down his throat, then jamming his dick down mine. I remember my skirt falling off somehow and me climbin up onto the sofa and sitting my crotch onto his face. I remember cumming after a few minutes of the best "head" I've had in 6 months. I remember dropping it down and riding him like a fugitiv e cowgirl trying to escape from the sherriff. I remember cumming again. I remember him liftin g me up and reversing the cowgirl and me cumming again. I remember bending over holding onto the coffee table and him "styling" me from behind. I remember cumming... again. I remember wondering if his cum still tasted sweet. I remember confirming that it still does.

I went over there because I wanted to know if I had him out of my system. I left there glad that I don't.

-- stacy j.

david e. (part 1)

dear ej,

Not long ago I thought my life was pretty much over. When Natalie left, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. It was all so sudden. She had decided to go away to college and not take our relationship with her. This was her chance to meet new people, experience different things, and see what else is out there. Sounds like sumthing a guy would typically say to a girl.

When she broke it off I was shocked and devistated. I used to do everything I could to make her happy. I'd take her shopping, and I kept her hair and nails done. I bought her cell phones and payed the bill. I even taught her how to drive so she could borrow the car my parents bought for me. We were damn near inseparable. Then she dropped that bomb on me. Afterward, I wouldn't go out. I wouldn't talk to my friends. I cried like a fucking baby for the first week. I felt like all I had was gone. I was empty inside. I was incomplete without her.

But after a while it hit me that life has to go on despite how much pain you're in. College wasn't in my plans. My grades were not good enough to get me a scholarship. I couldn't gather much grant money. And I decided not to borrow thousands in student loans that would put my family in more debt. I thought it best to stay home and continue to dj.

Time went on and I tried to forget about her by working my ass off doing parties, putting out mix tapes and networking. Soon I landed an internship at a radio station. Now I'm doing promotions. It's cool. I'm not rich and famous, but I get to pass out free t-shirts, cds and event tickets. I get to drive one of the stations hummer H2's. I get my voice heard on the radio a couple times a week. I even get groupies.

It's been about six months since Natalie went away. It still hurts when I think about her. She doesn't call. Probably because I cussed her out and told her not to. But even still, she should've known i said that out of anger. If she did call, though, I don't know what I'd say or do. But for now I'm ok. I'm doing well. And as long as she's not on my mind, I'm pretty close to being happy.

-- david e.

sharon g. (part 1)

dear ej,

I'm wearing lingerie, the smell of my perfume fills the room and I have a bottle of sparkling wine chilling. It's late at night. Too late to be planning on just talking; and I'm still not sure if I'm really gonna do this. I don't want to lead him on, but there are some unsettled issues rolling through my head.

Is tonight the night that I let him inside? I'm driving myself crazy wondering what's going to happen. Will we chill for a while? Or is he going to go straight for it?

He has a way of making me feel sexy and I like that. He knows what to say. He knows how to hold me, caress me, touch me. He has always been nice, so far.

But does he realy like and respect me? Or has this just been part of some plan to get the "drawls?" And if he does hit it, will he broadcast it to all his boys? Will he drop all the intimate details? Will he talk about how good the "head" was? Should I give him "head" at all?

Will he take his time? Will he search for the right buttons to hit and try to turn me on? Does he want to make love to me or fuck me? Will he bring protection or leave it up to me to have it? Is he going to "bust" in the condom or try to take it off and cum on me? On my ass? On my tits? In my mouth? On my face?

Is he going to try to make me cum or is he just thinking about himself?

Will he leave right afterward or stick around at least for a little while? And if he does leave will he call when he gets home? Or at least sometime tomorrow?

Maybe this is happening to fast. Maybe I should call him and tell him not to come over. Maybe I should make him take me to get something to eat first. Maybe I...

Oh shit... there's the doorbell...

-- sharon g.