Ever since I was about 17, when I got bored, I wrote slutty, trashy stuff. Stuff that would make your grandmother roll in her grave. Stuff that would make me even blush.
Being cooped up in the house, has me bored stiff. Hot, trashy stories have been pouring out of me left and right.
Sometimes I think I was meant to write trashy love stories for everyone to read. But I didn’t because I was told “nice girls don’t do that.”
Nice girls, my ass!
No matter who you are, you fantasize about the perfect hot night with your partner or someone. Hot, steamy sex that drives you over the edge is what we all desire deep down.
I am not saying that loving, tender sex isn’t good, because it is. Every woman loves be kissed with loving tenderness. We loved being cradled in the arms of the man we love. There is nothing better than going to sleep with our head on his chest listening to his heartbeat.
But there are moments when you just want to be bad. Hence the trash stories. It gets my mind off of all this crap. Keeps my thoughts away from the fact that all of us with breast cancer have compromised immune systems. Blocking my mind from the worry of my Mom or husband getting this virus, is a good thing for me.
But know, I will not post the trashy stories here…I would hate for y’all to think badly of me.
I will write something relevant to breast cancer later this week. Sorry for neglecting all of you, my readers.