This is what I thought about
ALL DAY!!

My latest fantasy...

I want to be a naughty little tart.
I want a longer version
Of a one night stand.
A want a naughty weekend.

I want to be in pig tails,
When he meets me at the bar.
I want to be seventeen.
I want him to like me.
I want him to buy me drinks,
And when I am good and drunk,
I want him to take me home with him.
I want him to have his way with me.
I want to be a teenage whore.
A naughty little girl, rebelling against daddy.
Taken captive, by an older man.
Who will make her cum,
Over and over, in every way imaginable.
Doing the naughtiest of things.
With a stranger,
For an entire weekend.
I want him to fuck me.
Morning noon and night.
I want him to fuck me,
With my own dildo,
As I cook his breakfast at the stove.
I want to be told to suck his cock as he eats.
I want to be told what a good little girl I am,
When I paralyze him with pleasure.
I want to be rewarded with orgasms.
I want to be a seventeen year old whore,
For an entire weekend.
With a sexy stranger,
Who wants only one thing...

The pleasure that dwells within my core.

My nipples were swollen, red, and sore.
Your lips were so warm and wet.
Shivers ran through me,
As you slowly suckled on my swollen bud.
A moan escaped my lips.
My body hugged close to yours,
As you feasted on the sensitive nub.
Every sensation traveled right to my core.
And my pussy wept with lustful cream.

WARNING...Personal stuff ahead.

Nothing even remotely related to sex.

Actually it is kinda religious.

If your still reading...well, you've been warned.

Tonight I sit and ponder life, and all that it is.
Tonight I sit and wonder, of this being you call God.
After twelve years of religious teachings.
I do not go to church.
I have my own definition of god.
If I am to worship him,
Why should I get to my knees and recite memorized words?
Am I to think, I will go to hell if I do not recite them daily?
And you call him a loving and forgiving god?
If the god you describe to me is so loving and forgiving,
And in need of such worship.
I think he would appreciate that I sit on my porch daily,
And worship his creations.
I sit in awe, watching the colors of the sunset every evening.
Every night, I sit and wonder at the beauty of the stars,
For hours before I go to bed.
How is this less worship then getting to my knees with tired words?
I know that I am a good person.
I do not follow a written set of laws.
I let my feelings guide me.
I enjoy making others happy,
Just to see them smile.
I stop at the same red light every morning,
And marvel at the difference in the colors of the sky from day to day.
I take time to appreciate what is around me.
I appreciate that I have the privilege of giving sick people,
Some of their very last smiles.
I appreciate that I have the privilege of being a mother.
I put my child's need above and beyond everything else.
More importantly, I know who he is.
I know everything about him.
He tells me about his girlfriends.
Even the ones that kiss bad.
We talk openly about sex, alcohol, and drugs.
He is on the honor roll.
He is a good kid.
But I do not take him to church.
I have not taught him the tired words.
Yet every morning when we leave the house,
I see him look up at the sky.
Sometimes, I even hear him softly say, "Wow."
That, to me, is worship.
I felt more of a need,
To instill in his mind
An appreciation for what and who is around him,
Then to insist he memorize and recite.

And if I go to hell for that,
I spit on your "loving" god.