I went to Day Treatment once
I needed help coping with all the chaos in my life
I was doing drugs, drinking, showing porn to friends in class
I was on another level
Meaning, I was manic at the time
I let a group of my guy friends pierce my nipple
I gave blowjobs for fun
I don't think there is anything wrong with blowjobs
I was abused when I was younger, and I actually like giving them
I hate when guys try to perform oral sex on me though
It makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable
In my Day Treatment I had a therapist named Dan
He was the only person in the world that I never lied to
I got myself into a shit ton of trouble by being honest
I even threw some of my dearest friends and loved ones under the bus
But I felt free and accepted, and it felt good not to lie
Dan always said I reminded him of another patient but she never got better
I swore that wouldn't be me, but I was wrong
I got worse than ever
I slept around with strangers
Bought hair growth products, weight loss products, skin lightening products, calcium pyruvate, rosea, horny goat weed (wild yam root), sex toys, and anything else that could miraculously make me beautiful and appealing.
They didn't work
About $2,000 dollars wasted on utter bullshit
I hate being Bipolar
I'm afraid to tell people because I don't want to be rejected
The hardest part about having a mental illness is that people forget that you actually have a personality.
Everything you do ends up being "Did you take your meds?" "Should we change your meds?" "Your meds make you cranky." "These meds make you too happy." "You're being a bitch, go take your meds."
I have a negative bank account and I hate college
I want to be a flight attendant and a massage therapist
I want to work on cruise lines so that I can travel the oceans
I've never been to an ocean
I'm born and raised in Utah my whole life
I've got to get out of here.
I want more than anything to travel the world and find my one true love
I've never been in love
I paid on my first date.
Sad, I know
I've been called racist names and I've been in physical fights
I love fighting
Its not that I love to hit people, but I love when people hit me.
I love pain
I love the adrenaline of getting stuck in the rib cage and having to fight through it
I don't know, I'm a strange soul.
I think often
The tip of my nipple tickling his skin-thin upper gum.
In my imagination
It is many minutes of calm
I cup his head
Which fits into a palm and a half
My body is full
With his quiet innocence.
I imagine trying to imagine
How much he doesn’t know
All the dirty things
This action may mean one day
How he doesn’t know
What a kitchen is
Or a mortgage or an income
His fears are not boring.
Mine are of finances and guilt
His involve teethed creatures and deaf silences.
He does not know what it means
For the time to be 3:15
Nor can he comprehend
The recentness of his existence.
I and the cat are nocturnal
He lives in intervals.
We associate babies
With a soft pink
Looking into his eyes
Two wrinkly slits
Wondering how to
A Tale of Two
Today was my free day and I longed for some soothing nature time. I had my picnic basket with some food and wine. I wanted to enjoy my afternoon alone. I was just standing there, waiting for the cars to pass me so I could cross the street to the park. He walked by me and the wind blew his scent right to me. He smelled like heaven on earth.
I am very familiar with many scents and this one was new to me. I watched him walk past me. He was hansom with dark hair are mysterious eyes. His hair blowing in the breeze just as mine was. I love that feeling, being caressed by the wind. Before I knew it he was out of sight. I did not see where he had gone, for I had been day dreaming of what he would be like to kiss.
I continued on my way to the park and found a nice quiet place to read my book. I laid out my blanket and flung off my shoes. I wanted to lay there under the fading sun and enjoy the wind flirting with my dress while I read. It’s a warm windy day and its perfect. I had been reading for 30 minutes before I was warmly surprised by the smell that came to me. It was the smell of the man who had passed me. I looked up and saw him; he was standing over me with a poetry book in his hand. I smiled and invited him to sit down.
He smiled and introduced himself as a fellow nature lover. He didn’t tell me his name and at this point I was so surprised by his presence that it didn’t matter. I sat up and I asked him if he would join me in a glass of wine. He comically answered that he is sorry but we both cannot fit in that glass! I laughed and poured two classes of BlackStone red. He accepted with a smile. I lay back down on my stomach with my book half-open. My heart was beating so fast, he was right here with me and I could smell him, it was wonderful. We were strangers and I had no idea how he found me or why.
"What brings you to the park today?" I asked. He didn’t answer me, he just looked into my eyes for the longest time and then slowly bent down and kissed me. I thought my heart was going to be heard for miles. Surely he could hear it! It was a very long sweet kiss, perfect in every way, as if we had been kissing each other for years. I broke my lips free reluctantly and asked him once again, "who are you?" He opened his mouth and he said, "I came to the park today because you are here" I was speechless, I didn’t know what to say.
I turned over and lay on my back ready to question him again. He was right next to me, a man out of a dream, just appearing from no where. My mouth opened to ask once again who he was and as soon as I did his lips fell to mine in a long wet kiss. He was pure heaven to touch tongues with. I was enjoying myself too much to ask him anything. I dropped my book and heard the pages flapping in the wind while we kissed. My hands made their way to his dark hair and I could not help myself, I pulled him closer to me. There was no one around; we were in no danger of being seen. He moved closer to me and held me tight. I could not brake away from his kiss, nor did I want to.
He left my lips on his own, kissing my neck. He whispered in my ear "I have been watching you for a while now". I suddenly felt a little frightened. I do not know this man at all and yet he is kissing me. He reached past me and into my picnic basket. He pulled out the strawberries and nibbled on one while staring at me. I couldn’t speak, I was staring right back and it was like he had my mind engulfed with thoughts.
He then fed me a strawberry very slowly; juice ran down the side of my mouth. He reached down and licked it off with his tongue. I whimpered, I wanted him so bad. He picked up another berry and took a big bite, the juice feel on my chest between my breasts. I looked him in the eyes, smiled and closed my eyes and waited for him to lick it off me. And he did, very slowly lick it off and trailed his tongue down the length of the opening of my blouse.
He began unbuttoning me, my hand went to stop him, and he reached out and held my hand. He kissed my fingers and said, "abandon all fears". I let my hand fall to the grass and let him unbutton me. I was wearing nothing under my shirt, no bra. I felt his breath touch me on my nipple, and I felt it rise to a stiff peak. He took a bite of a strawberry and left half of it on the stem. He kissed me once again, and at the same time I felt the chill of the cold half strawberry touching my nipple.
This was heaven, my god I felt a trickle of my own juice run from my pussy. I was whimpering while he was kissing me. He touched me so slowly and with such care. The cold berry circling my nipple and the kiss at the same time was driving me wild. He moved and began sucking the strawberry mess of my nipple. I held his head to my nipple for a moment, it felt so good. I felt his hand reach for my thigh, soft and warm hand just caressing me. He found my wetness and was surprised by it.
I smiled and giggled, what could I say. He looked right in my eyes and told me I was about to get a licking I would never forget. He was very right! He knew what he was doing, and he made me cum so fast I couldn’t believe it. I was in heaven. Still quivering and whimpering I rolled over on top of him. I kissed him like he was my long lost love. I quickly unbuttoned his pants while a stared at him with glazed satisfied eyes. I moved lower and found his throbbing cock staring at me. I took him into my mouth while I stared into his eyes. I saw the thrill he was having as the moistness from my mouth mixed with the wind as I moved up and down. He tasted and felt wonderful and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting all of it for myself.
I heard the noise of pleasure comes from him and suddenly he stopped me and laid me down in the grass next to the blanket. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. He joined me and made love to me in the grass. The breeze blowing over our bodies, the currents within exploding. He stayed on top of me and started kissing me again.
I broke the kiss and I whispered to him, "Who are you?" He simply reached for the wine and smiled. He filled my glass and placed the cup in my hand while he buttoned my blouse and smiled. I sat up and looked into his eyes, why do I feel is if I know him! He bit my thigh and I jumped spilling the wine on my skirt. I ran to the water fountain to rinse it off and when I looked back he was gone. There was no way he could have left without passing me! I was stunned. I went back to my blanket and collected my things. My book was gone, he taken it. And he had also replaced it with the book of poetry he had brought with him. There was no name written in it, no sign of who he was. Just a book of poetry and a note slipped into a fitting page of love for a moment and it read ‘Meet me in the moon light tomorrow night, I will be waiting" and it was signed no longer a secret admirer.
I saw her again yesterday. This time when I went past, she seemed to notice me. Like so many days recently, she took my breath away. I remember the first time I saw her; she was wearing a sexy black dressed that crossed at the front. Today, she was carrying a picnic basket.
I ducked behind a corner and watched. Who was this woman? And more important, whom is she going to have a picnic with? I followed at a safe distance and watched her unpack & prepare a picnic for one. She started reading a book and I knew she would be there for a while. I don’t know why, but I decided to backtrack and bought collection of Emily Dickinson poems before making my way back to the park. When I got back, my heart pumped hard in my chest. I could feel a throbbing in my head as the blood coursed through my brain.
Suddenly, I was only aware of our immediate surroundings. The sun caressing my face, the wind lapping at my hair. And her. She looked radiant in the dappled light of the afternoon, her hair flowing over her shoulders. Her sensuous mouth twitched every now and again as she read. Something caught her attention and she looked up at me. I was a mess. All I could come up with was that I was a fellow nature lover. I just stood there until she invited me to sit down.
Worse still, when she asked me to join her in a glass of wine, I blurted "I’m sorry, but we both cannot fit in that glass". At least she laughed and when she handed me the wine she asked why I was there. Having made a fool of myself already, I decided that actions would speak louder than words and surprised both of us by leaning forward and kissing her.
Her mouth was beautiful- soft, full lips. I could taste the wine on her lips and as my tongue gently parted them. Her mouth opened to greet mine and I took her lower lip between my lips.
She was reluctant at first but warmed to me and I felt her hand on the back of my head pulling me to her. I was no longer aware of anything but her. Nothing else mattered.
At one point she asked me again why I was there. I couldn’t believe it when I heard myself say that I had been watching her. "Great", I thought. "Don’t worry about looking foolish because now you look like a psychopath". Deciding for the second time that silence was golden, I kissed her again. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths.
I could feel her warm breath on my face and I pressed my body firmly against hers. My leg found its way between her legs as I used it to press on her pussy. Reaching for some of her strawberries, I took one in my mouth and fed her the rest. I put a strawberry half in my mouth and lent forward to give her the rest. She bit into it and our lips caressed as she swallowed it. When some juice escaped her mouth and ran down her cheek, I licked it off, running my tongue in a trail from the base of her neck up to her mouth.
She was now irresistible; I had to have her. I undid her dress button by button. I licked berry juice from her nipple as I felt it harden under my tongue. I ran my tongue around and around her nipple, then from the base of it to the tip. I felt her back arch towards me as my hand wandered down her body. The leg, which had been pressing against her pussy, was damp. Her panties were completely soaked and I was astonished to find her completely shaven as my fingers slipped under the waistband.
She opened her legs as my fingers slipped inside her. As I let my fingers caress her clit, I kissed and nibbled my way down her body. The further I moved down, the stronger her scent became. It was intoxicating and I knew that I must have her juices flowing over my tongue. My fingers slipped under her panties and I gently pulled them down, very slowly. She lifted herself off the ground, inviting me to take them off completely. It felt like I was 6 years old and opening a Christmas present. When they slipped off her ankles, I brought her panties to my face and inhaled deeply.
The scent hit my nostrils and went straight to primitive parts of my brain. I dropped them and immediately ran my tongue up her inner thigh towards her pussy. I stopped before my tongue reached there and let her feel my breath. I enjoyed the smell while I could as I plunged my tongue between her lips and straight into her pussy, the sharp tang of her juice stimulating my taste buds.
She tasted as good as she smelled. I made my tongue rigid and slid the tip of it along her labia up to her clit. My tongue broadened as I delicately licked her clit like it was a melting ice cream. My wet fingers found her nipple and I caressed it to the same rhythm as my tongue on her clit. I felt her orgasm build up and a gush of her cum soaked my chin and my chest.
I was aroused to the point of unconsciousness when she suddenly pushed me on my back and straddled me. She was quick to free my cock and took it in her mouth and looked up at me. Our eyes met in a moment that I will never forget. We both knew what was to come. Releasing my cock, she straddled me and lowered herself onto my cock. We both gasped as she opened up and slipped over my head and down the shaft, her clit grinding against my pubic bone. We kissed deeply as our bodies united and we tasted each other’s juices. When I first saw her, I thought how much I would love to fuck this angel. But we were not fucking, we were making love.
At last, our bodies climaxed as we thrust hard at each other, my cock slamming hard, my balls slapping against her arsehole.
We lay on the soft grass in orgasmic bliss and she asked me again "Who are you?". I avoided the question by biting her thigh, which made her spill her wine. I took my opportunity and left, but not before swapping books with her. I left a note for her asking her to meet me tonight. Such unimaginable beauty and sensuality can only be enhanced by the moons pale light.
I have a third nipple.
That doesn't mean I'm cripple.
It's on the left side.
Some people think its weird like Jekyll and Hyde.
But there really actually wrong.
Because my nipple just makes me a lot more strong.
People either love it or they hate it.
Either way they wish they had one and usually throw a fit.
Where, oh Heart, is the answer?
In man’s olive iris that pines
capsule of soulish vines stretching
by the water in that memory…
First pink touch: the long name,
Which you say is so
easy on the eye
In catching dim fair soft lights
blown in gloom’s silver odds
between two old pages or
News soaked in a gray ink drop bath:
The blending of war broken out on earth’s cheek
With the gossiping red margins and
Something eerie on the last page…
I step on it, walking straight.
In still mindfully begging
Oval windows on the church ramparts:
Is it in the epoch
In the sore nipple, in the sore slits
Dribbling pollen of wounds of
Nickings, gyps, slights, losses
Is it in a stasis
Forested with chocolate and sisters
Purpled bedtime music boxes
Dreaming or in the moment I
Stir my bland corners with song
Not in victories banners cheering
Hunched labor in running
Something we get when winning
Is it in a process
That wrinkles like skin, then spots
Or hangs over the path
A great moss and changing
the wintery company of foliage and twig to
fire and blossom,
in the birth of death and growing?
is it in kissing or eating before praying
like guilt yellow as bruised pear hips
that melt to brown in your fingers
Should I see or hear or feel it
in the man himself, meat of his fine muscles,
his heart's voice, the buried hunger pang,
or in his prayer's slow sadness,
black as the tomb's passage and
can you answer?
I can feel my slimy beet colored heart pulsing
beating at its height through my perfect left nipple
My left your right as we are chest against chest
Nothing tastes as good as the leftover heartbreak on my lips
Or as bitter as the bad decisions left upon your own
No one can predict the bottomless mess of human emotions
But we are ever too fluid to care
More like fire than fluid
Mindless flames burn everyone equally without pity; ever-changing and depthless
Beautifully tragic, unpredictable at best and has a violent fluidity all it's own
The beat travels up my shoulder and down my spine unto the very center of my womanhood
I feel a craving for you and it is border-lining madness
I am teetering on a edge of hysteria that I thought I could ne'er again succumb to
I am being driven wild with an unasked-for passion
Alas - it all must remain internal for there are proper politics to be remembered
That of a taken man and secret so deadly that it entitles me to feel a certain power of having a precious life in my hands
I may be a forebearer of evilness - but at least I am the only one BEING HONEST
I like boobs, I like tits,
before you touch, you must get permits.
Nothing like a nice pair of assets,
oh how puppies make nice pets.
Bazongas are boobs that are large,
strippers and hookers, will always charge.
Nothing like the perfect bosom,
but only on the perfect woman.
Breasts are yummy dark or white,
but first you must wait for an invite.
Some girls even have a third nipple,
do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple.
I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, titty committee,
on a carpenters dream, I show no pity.
They could be called a bust, some call them cans,
a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans.
Chesticles is a term I have never heard,
but everyday, I learn a new word.
I like cones, I like jugs,
girls with big ones, I give hugs.
Al Bundy loved calling them hooters,
at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters.
A girl with a nice set of knockers,
might find herself with unwanted stalkers.
Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps,
a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps.
Boobs always come in a pair,
why do bra's, they have to wear.
Even men who smoke lots of crack,
still can appreciate a good sized rack.
I don't care if there fake or real.
in a crowded room, I always cop a feel.
Girls love showing off some cleavage,
I wish I lived in a booby village.
Babies need breast milk to make them stronger,
if the mom is hot, they may do it longer.
In conclusion, I love boobs,
with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.
Marsha Lenihan once wrote, "People with BPD are like people with third degree burns all over their body, lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement."
I used to cry when I said goodbye to my father after our weekly Tuesday night dinners
I'd play out games of Go fish and Rummy like there was no winner, but I was victorious next
to my daddy.
His eyes still crinkle in the corners and his smell will always be long car rides with blankets, books on tape, and a wide range of conversations even though he was always late
But I'd weep like he actually just dropped dead every Tuesday night because I was petrified
My small but portly frame would crumple and I would mumble the worries I was too scared to say
I was afraid I'd see my daddy for the last time that day
I thought I had asthma because I was always fat and sometimes choked on the air in my lungs as if it was strangling me but I had my first panic attack in grade three
I was sitting in Mrs. Arlotta's classroom ladida
just like any other story about a schoolday when I was punched in the stomach
with a fist of "I miss my fucking dad"
there was this bully beating the shit out of me with no prologues warning
Just to remind me Despair
is not some abandoned pit people place their pity into
Despair, can be like an earwig, you use hope like tissues to squash out intrusion
but earwigs are smart, experts at delusion
earwigs know where to hide until you go to sleep
Every other weekend I used to sleep at my dads house with his british girlfriend
and his lovely cats and soothing hot tub
and his british girlfriend
and the fireplaces and the tribal music
and the british girlfriend
and the beautiful homemade pond and the greenhouse
and the british girlfriend
I liked roasting marshamallows until their crisp outer layer began to bubble but not for too long for if they fell in the fire there was trouble
Bort are you seriously letting the girl eat sweets tonight, god knows she doesn't need them
I liked riding my bike through Elizabeth park their flower garden was absolutley breathtaking
"you know Haley if you got off your ass more often moving your legs wouldn't be such a chore"
And I loved dinners with freshly picked herbs and seasonal tablecloths tucked in the curbs
"go ahead, have another helping, you're just like your mother, disgusting"
Well Karen I hope I'm like her and I hope she's disgusting
I hope she tasted disgusting on the leftover edges of my fathers lips
when you two were thrusting, could you also taste the hasty goodbyes he tossed like
rubber ducks to a family
waiting in line for him to come home
and waiting and waiting for him to never fucking come home
I loved my dad.
yes despair was everywhere but seeing my dad was like finding religion
if a child could comprehend the task of going to church
Christine Ann Lawson once wrote, " The borderling queen expreiances what therapists call oral greediness. the desperate hunger of the borderline queen is a kin to the behavior of an infant who had gone too long between feedings. Starved, frustrated, and beyond the ability to calm or sooth herself, she grabs, flails, wails until the last nipple is planted securely and perhaps too deeply in her mouth. She coughs, gags, chokes, spits eyeing the elusive breast like a wolf guarding her food. Similarily, the queen holds onto what is hers taking more than she could use, in case it might be taken away prematurely."
Did my eyes taste sour when you few times you kissed my lids goodnight maybe that's why there wasn't one fucking hour without a glass of wine, another beet, hide your shots of tequila behind the birthday cards I made you.
There was an ache of despair that you wouldn't always be there that when you decided you wanted to participate it was way past the expiration date
I said goodbye to my dad after dinner last night without a second look back, I forgot he could be dead when I was blowing lines to stay alive
Experts say a key symptom of borderling is chronic emptiness
Maybe if things had been different dad, I wouldn't be such a fucking mess
and you would have to pay Connecticutcare less.
Skin to skin we dance like shadows.
Bathed in the candle light,
Our bodies intertwine.
Your mouth is hot on my body.
Finding a nipple in your mouth you nibble.
My cries of tortured ecstasy spur you on.
My hands in your hair,
Your beard on my breasts.
I say words that rest incomprehensible,
But, of course, you understand.
Your wandering mouth takes its time and finally rests,
Happily between my thighs.
Your tongue is destructive.
Tearing down my every wall and blockade.
I scream your name in sweet turmoil.
My words remain my only defense against your onslaught.
Short syllables of you escape my throat as my body shudders,
Closer and closer you bring me to an apocalyptic climax,
My whole world shatters,
And nothing but you matters.
A Story by quinfinn
" ever get a late night call from a stranger? "
This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.
i got a strange phone call at two o'clock this morning. i answered my cell and a soft, sexy, sultry, female voice said "guess what i'm wearing"
i said "i would imagine a nightgown or pajamas"
"wrong" she said "i'm totally naked. guess what i'm doing right now"
"having a hard time sleeping, i suppose" said i
"yes" she replied "so i thought i'd get you to talk dirty to me so i can get off
and go to sleep. say something dirty!"
i answered "okay, how about this... MUD, GRIT, GRIME, FILTH, DUST!"
"oh, come on!" she spat back "i'm playing with my nipples now, say something to turn me on"
"okay" i said "tell me, which nipple controls the volume and which one changes the channels"
"WHAT?! "she shouted
"well" i said "how can i turn you on if i don't know which buttons to push?"
she ignored that comment and said "do you want me to play with my pussy now?"
"sure!" i said "why not? i'm a cat lover too. do you have a ball of yarn?"
undaunted, she replied "oh, please! my pussy needs some attention!"
"well" i replied "give it some catnip and clean out its litter box"
she then got angry "i am not amused! you're no fun!"
"honey" i said "it's two in the morning and i was sound asleep and ,quite frankly,
phone sex doesn't do it for me"
"i was doing this for me, damnit!" she barked at me
'okay" i said "it's a big world out there with lots of phone numbers to call. keep trying and you'll get lucky"
"but" she answered "you have such a sexy voice"
"so do you" i replied "but i like things up close and personal, perhaps you'd like to meet and try the real world"
"no...that's okay" she said
"that's what i thought" said i "good luck and good night"
then she whispered "night, night...sexy"
oh well...maybe next time
i slept like the dead all night after that
does that make me a mean person?
© 2012 quinfinn