xoxoxoxo

I was asleep, nude, on the couch, when Brian first got there I guess. Because I woke up and they were sitting in the chairs opposite me, just talking. I felt that normal thrill and surge of wetness when I realized they’d been able to stare at me for however long. They had a pipe, but whatever they’d been smoking was cashed. I sat up and smiled at them both. How did you sleep? Chris asked. His voice was softer than usual. Okay, I said. I waited for him to command me to suck his cock, or Brian’s cock, or both. But he didn’t say anything. Not that there wasn’t some message in his eyes, there was, but I wasn’t sure what. Are we going somewhere? I asked. Should I get dressed? No, he said. I bit my lip. Do you want to fuck me? I asked. I never usually had to ask. No, he said. I tried to look like I was pouting. Fuck yourself, he said. Oh? I said. Touch yourself, he told me. I did as I was told, drawing them out a little by playing with my tits and spit & arranging myself in different ways on the couch. Then I started rubbing my clit which quickly overwhelmed me. I had two fingers inside myself while my other hand worked my clit & I realized I wasn’t putting on a very good show. So I came, very quietly, & kept touching.

Chris is already hard when I walk in the door, he puts a pill in my mouth and I swallow and he tells me I’m a good girl. Then he shoves me on the ground, I’m vaguely aware there’s another person in the room, he has my jeans and panties down around my ankles in a flash, my pubic hair connects with the carpet. It’s soft, it feels nice. I’m wet, I was wet the whole way over, so it doesn’t hurt much when he shoves his cock in me, but I know he wants it to so I gasp. He slaps my ass and fucks me a hard for a while. I realize after a while that there’s another cock tentatively pushing against my head, so I put my chin on my arms and open my mouth. Other than that I can’t move much, but this other person happily starts fucking my mouth. Whatever he gave me is numbing me out, I’m trying to stay awake because he doesn’t like when I pass out anymore. He used to though, he said it was hot. My neck is a little sore, lying on my stomach like this, so I try to roll over when the cock in my mouth takes a break. Surprisingly, he lets me, & I feel his thumb against my clit as he lifts my leg and puts it on his shoulder. I can’t really see anything, but then I feel the cum on my face, the friend didn’t last long. But it sets me off, I moan & twist & tighten & he fucks me harder, we both cum, I feel him filling my pussy. And then I don’t feel anything.

I remember getting angry at you, once, you were doing heroin again, I said “What, do you want to get killed?”

And you said, “Yes, Ashley. Yes.”

I still don’t get that.

But I do understand wanting to be hurt.

Wanting to feel like shit in the morning.

Sometimes I stay on the couch until after my mom gets home from work.

She says “What did YOU do last night?”

She likes that I am like this. She likes that I’m like her.

I understand why my father always humored me through all my fuckups.

I understand why he is mad at me now: if I’d been able to have the baby, if I hadn’t miscarriaged, if I’d had the baby and then run away from it, he’d have taken me back. If I’d gotten an abortion right away, he’d have had no problem.

But I chose to have the baby and to settle down with a man. I chose to be a mother.

That didn’t happen, but it doesn’t matter. I still told my father what I wanted to do.

I’m not his crazy wife’s daughter anymore. I’m HIS daughter. And he doesn’t like that.

If he knew I smoked crystal last night and let my boyfriend fuck my tits until I passed out, maybe he’d like me better.

Hi, it’s Ashley.

Alice told me to write something. So. I assume you’re all well.

Where I’ve been:

I got pregnant. I got pregnant and I decided that I didn’t want to be with Alice anymore. I went about it in a very bad way. I tried to hurt her as much as I could, drive her away. I thought I was protecting both of us.

She isn’t blameless. Alice was physically abusive. She was convinced that I was mentally unstable and that I needed to be broken to get better. Alice doesn’t have a monopoly on being broken, but she thinks she does.

I moved away, I ran away really, from everything. From my job. My old assistant—she did coke off of my stomach one time—she has my job now. My father wanted to know more about what was happening. I couldn’t find the words. 

I moved in with the baby’s father, in Boston. He was ready to provide for us, and I thought I was ready to be the wife. I stayed home almost every day. I kept the apartment clean. I made dinner. I fucked him every night. I loved feeling him cum inside me. When he was around I felt happy. When I was alone, I started to feel suicidal for the first time in my life.

I couldn’t reach out to anyone. I went deeper inside myself. Sometimes he had to travel. I went days without speaking.

He asked me to marry him. I said yes. We decided to do it quickly.

I had a miscarriage. One morning. Home alone.

I was unprepared for how upset I was. I’d barely even known I’d wanted the baby. But I did. I wanted it. Or maybe I just thought it would fix me.

Joe and I resolved to try again as soon as I could have sex. My libido went into overdrive. Sometimes Joe would remind me, after we fucked, that I couldn’t get pregnant if I kept making him cum on my face, if I kept ordering him to fuck my ass.

And then one day, out of nowhere really, Alice got her wish. I didn’t quite snap, but something gave way. Something I still can’t explain. Joe went to work and I started packing without knowing where I was going.

I wrote a few emails and retrieved a piece of information I’d been afraid of knowing for years. My mother’s address.

I stopped home to visit my father. He looked at me like he wasn’t sure he knew me. Joe had been calling him. I asked him not to say anything.

At the airport, of all fucking people, I ran into Alice. I was on the way in, she was on the way out. She was glowing with excitement, she’d reconnected with her brother, she was happy to see me. She started asking questions. I told her she looked fat. She didn’t look fat, Alice is always perfect. She told me to fuck off.

My mother picked me up. I knew it was her, even though I shouldn’t have recognized her. She looks like me. She told me I could stay with her as long as I wanted.

That’s where I am now. I am living with my mother. I sleep on the couch. Things are awkward between us, but not as bad as they could have been. She’s afraid of me. She ignored me for two decades, after all. What kind of monster have I become in her absence?

I have a half sister. She is 17. Her father was Puerto Rican. He’s gone, or, my mom is. But she took the kid this time. My sister is boycrazy and she loathed me at first. I took her shopping. A lot. I bought her love. We get along now. She’s the blowjob queen at her school. We exchanged tips.

A few days a week, I spent the night at a guy’s house. I hesitate to call him my boyfriend. Our relationship is not that healthy. He sells drugs, and I fuck him so I don’t have to pay for drugs. Sometimes I fuck his friends. But not for drugs. I do that because it turns him on. I’m reaching new levels of degradation. And I love it. When he woke me up by cumming on my face, I knew I’d found the right guy for me, at this stage in my life.

Last weekend I had a threesome with him and one of his friends. They tied me up and fucked me. His friend couldn’t get hard when he tried to put it in my ass, so he just jerked off and came on my back.

The last time I was at his house he fucked me in the ass & choked me. Then we smoked crystal.

People, like Alice, ask me what’s next. I don’t even understand that question.

If you have questions I’m sure Alice will send them to me.

It’s not a foot fetish thing it’s a sock fetish thing. And really it’s mild. Like the way you are with panties, sometimes. I just wear these long tube socks when I go over there. They go up to like, my knees. When we fuck it’s normal sex, he doesn’t rub his cock against them or anything. I bought like a big pack of them from Target because before that I was borrowing from my sister. 

I’m attaching a picture of her to freak you out. We look very similar. Like meeting a clone.

Anyway I go lay in his bed with just the socks on and he does blow off my ass and then fucks my brains out.

Tell me more about Beth! Shit, do I have to read your fucking Tumblr to get the juicy details? Also I will be around this evening for sure if you want to call. If you’re not busy.

frogmoor asked: Please, let us know more about what is going on.

Hi, this is Alice. I posted the emails that Ashley sent me. A few days ago, I finally replied to her & told her to get the fuck out of my life. I haven’t heard back from her.

I’m a monster, I know that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Some of it is too hard to admit to myself, even now.

At the airport I fucked someone. Some guy, married, in his 40s. I needed to distract myself. I turned it on. It’s so easy. We talked at the bar, I followed him casually into the bathroom. There was one guy in there, he gave us a sideways look, I pressed my finger to my lips and winked at him.

I pulled my jeans and panties down and bent over and let him shove his long, thick cock in me. I was surprised by how big and hard it was, it hurt. I moaned while he squeezed my tits over my bra. I came, easily, after a few seconds, and told him to cum inside me. He did. The whole tryst lasted four or five minutes. I pulled my panties up, thanked him, and left.

I sat in the chair waiting for the flight and feeling the cum drip out of me. I realized I probably had time to fuck someone else. Instead I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and then thought about you and then cried so much that some old woman opened the stall door to check on me. She told me to splash some cold water on my face and then to fix my makeup.

You used to say I didn’t cry enough. But you cry all the time, over everything. So when you cried over me, I didn’t feel it. I didn’t give a fuck. 

You’re publishing this? Fine. Passive-aggression didn’t used to be your thing. Bitch.

I cried over you for days.

I fantasized about a clean break. Like when I was 22. But even then I dragged Michelle along with me. Someone always knows too much.

I still keep hoping every time I hit send it will be the last email I write you.