Anonymous

I never imagined myself being anyone’s wife so I grieved for my single life when I got married. I began to secretly long for the life I’d left behind.

I spent seventeen years in an abusive relationship. Not only do I the physical scars to prove it, I carefully tote a heavy heap of emotional scars. Humiliation, fear, and shame were poured into my heart for years, by a person that claimed to love me - my mother.

How is it possible to be an accidental fluffer on a porn set? The first time I realized I was a fluffer by default was during a gig at Adventure Studios.

"The biggest boy assured me they would be. But the ball play got even more intense. Were they aiming the ball at my kids or was it just my imagination?"

I don't recall meeting my first love. It seems he was always with me.

That’s part of the problem, I think. I keep waiting for my sexual partners to figure out how to bring me to orgasm.

If you go, I’ll have to pick up all the dog poop. I will have to take out the trash. I will have to sleep alone.

I love the concept of the divine yoni: of the beautiful and powerful nature of femininity, of being a creator and life-giver, and of vaginas being

I had grown to learn that fighting=love. I was dead wrong.

What's more dangerous — meeting people on the Internet or meeting people in real life?