I have been in one the greatest writer’s block of my life.

This has been the longest time I have been without writing. I finally got back into it this year, actually last month. I want to let you know that I have revised and continuing the story of Eve Romano (Blog post: BLAKE)

I at least want to get to chapter 3 in order for me to post on this website so that you guys can have a fluidity of reading material.

I am excited.


Hello Everyone,

I have been sick with strep-throat which took all my energy and desire to write. Also, now that I am coming out of it, work has been crazy busy. I want to apologize to you dear reader for lacking.

I intend to squeeze a post here sometime this week.

B L A K E page 3

Page 3

Chapter 1


I help at the little coffee station after the service— many Sundays I don’t like to, but my family is well known, and I must “be the example”. I am carrying a long sleeve of cups across the squared courtyard where I can see everything and everyone. There in the courtyard, they all gather like cockroaches— I should say “like ants”, but I am a bit dramatic. There are so many people walking, talking, laughing, hugging, that I am almost invisible; I like that.

In a split of a second Blake’s presence fills the open courtyard and I begin to watch him with my peripheral vision. I do not understand myself sometimes, just a little bit ago I hated Blake. He makes me cringe, but I want his attention. He makes feel insecure, but I want him to want me. From the sea of voices, I can hear his laughter echo, my heart immediately races, and my palms are sweaty.

           I have always been, what people call, un niña buena, to my family, to those around me, especially to everyone at church. Something I do not want leaked out, is the fact that I like sex a lot; I never told anyone the first time I had sex and, yet my mother claims “que El Espiritu Santo” told her. Well, I begged my parents not to tell a soul, but I know that they themselves did not want anyone to know. I know my parents want to maintain their status of “perfect Christian parents” with their “sinless Christian children”, if only they knew how many blow jobs I’ve given.

            Blake knows how to ignore me, he knows how to be so close by, I can smell his very expensive cologne yet emotionally apart that it seems like we are strangers. I see Dino, a church friend that I actually enjoy talking to, he is into fashion and a little feminine for my taste, he is witty and funny, very funny. As we began to talk, I feel all my senses rise and I purposely laugh louder and harder so that Blake can hear me, I even exaggerate my hand movements as I continue the conversation. I feel stupid for doing so, but in this moment my body finds it necessary— I need to show Blake that I am not focused on him, when in fact I actually am.

           The courtyard starts to clear out, people must be heading toward the second service and I lost track of Blake, damn he is probably apart of that worship team as well; dammit, now I am getting a little melancholy.

           From behind me Blake’s voice makes clitoris throb, “Why haven’t you ‘text’ me back?”

            “I didn’t know you actually wanted me to answer,” I sneered without my control.

I grab a rag and clean up the pretend crumbs and coffee stains— I do not look up; I don’t want to seem eager.

           “So, I’ll see you tonight after the 7 o’clock service, same place, don’t be late or else you are not getting this holy meat.”

When I realize he left, I come down to earth and wonder if anyone saw him talking to me; I look around and I don’t see anyone whose opinion matters to me. Hmm, my panties are wet, very wet; it makes me smile. I know I am a descarada, but right now I do not care.

This week has been a bit busy for me, so I do apologize for this late post. I have to tell you that I cannot stop thinking about Eve Romano, isn’t she crazy? I love her. I hope you are enjoying this material as much as I am enjoying writing it. Thank you for being a fan of my work. If you must critique, please critique me kindly.



B L A K E page 2

Page 2



I have always been lascivious even after I recognized Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Like if believing in God was going to stop these violent hormones, like if the creator of all Earth and Universe did not purposely make me with this sexual appetite— at least I think He did, right? I sometimes ponder and hope it’s hereditary, but I don’t even want to have a glimpse into my parents’ sex life- gross just gross, even as an adult, gross.

I beg myself not to spit out Blake’s heavy fluid, I cannot ruin my record, and I most definitely cannot let him see me be weak. I hide behind my sweaty hair and I painfully swallow— oh gawd, I winced, I almost peed a little. As I am raking my long hair back, he directs me with a nod to move to my left. I climb the stiff cushion of the back seat to sit as he struggles with his skinny jeans; why does everyone in the worship team wear those damn jeans— the whole congregation can see your package— is it mandatory? I am looking out the window of my now fogged up car, and as I am about to draw little hearts to clear the window, his voice startles me.

 “Hey, we gotta stop doing this.”

 I squeezed my eyes, “Yeah we should.”

I feel the midnight breeze rapidly fill my car— Blake swiftly leaves and slams the door. I’m sitting here and I want to laugh, laugh at myself for being so stupid, I let him use me again.

     On my way home I drown my thoughts with music, I put it as loud as my ears can take just so I don’t have to speak with God. I want to be forgiven for my sins, of course, but I do not want to ask for forgiveness just yet— because I know I am not done being a church hoe. I ugly cry myself to a deep sleep, I hear and I feel nothing, not even a dream.

————— Sat, June 22 ——————

“I can tell u lost weight didn’t u” 1:22 AM
“Baby I want to poke u wit my chile pepper😊” 2:01 AM
“Had a good time. 
U made me cum faster this time see you in the morning” 2:45 AM

Well, what a juxtaposition of texts I wake up to. It doesn’t make it better to see Blake standing up on the alter posing with his filthy hands lifted to my Lord and Savior.

It’s Sunday.

Look at him, he is totally acting all holy and handsome right now— how can he do this— he makes me sick. I wish the congregation knew that his praises mean shit. I wish that all the doe-eyed girls admiring Blake’s form of worship, secretly praying to marry him one day, would see how he forces my head onto his “head”. I wish they can all see that he only texts when he wants me. I wish they can all see that Blake is one of those guys that cares if you are a little chubby, he does not appreciate the beauty of love-handles.

If you have not guessed it, I am not fat, but I am definitely not an Instagram Flat Tummy Tea Model. I am fleshy, I have a good chunk of meat on my bones— I am Mexican, I love my tacos and my mom’s home-made tortillas de harina.

Why am I judging Blake when I am in the same damn boat I am letting him seduce me, I let him open my legs, I let him use my mouth. Hmm, I can see the outline of his long penis.


Sorry Lord, where were we?

Ah, yes worship.


I want to thank you for becoming my greatest supporter. You are what makes me keep going. I cannot stop thanking you my dear reader for taking a moment of your time to read and enjoy my creativity. You are very kind.

Come back next week for another page of Eve’s story. If I do write another page before this week is over then I will post it as soon as possible. Thank you for stopping by, thank you for reading my words. Again, if you must critique, critique me kindly 🙂




Page 1



How did I get myself into this mess? I do not understand how I am currently on my knees using all my strength trying not to choke and vomit on his throbbing dick. I had enjoyed this a couple of weeks ago when I deceived myself in thinking he liked me, and he was the man I was praying for. His name is Blake Rios and we met at church. I am cringing just thinking about it right now. Ugh, why isn’t he cumming already, dammit hurry up please I cannot keep going I can feel my jaw lock.

Anyway, Blake is incredibly handsome that it hurts, incredibly good looking that it’s cloying, makes my teeth itch. His physic is your All-American Dream boy, tall, dark haired, strong, soft in the eyes and that square chin that held his perfect kissable lips. Blake Rios is a sublime mixture of his Latino dad and his Irish-decent mom. He caught my attention that day we had our church community outreach and he asked me for my phone number. Something about him made me feel very uncomfortable, uneasy and definitely insecure, but I was intrigued, I was all in. When Blake asked for my number, freely and voluntary I recited it to him. I think I know what you are thinking, ‘she met him a couple of weeks ago and now she is sucking his dick?’ I know, I know, I seriously know how it sounds which is why I am wondering how the hell did I get into this situation? It must have been his enticing text messages and those abs that peeked through his Hanes Comfort Soft Crewneck T-shirts. My God I hate myself right now.

Ok, now he is spilling out, oh lawrd it tastes very bitter today, it tastes like warm hatred, I promise he use to taste like sweet nothingness.

Hello I am Eve, Eve Romano. What a name for the kind of person I am, huh? Biblical. My parents decided to name all their children bible names and of course me being the oldest of four they named me Eve; Life. Oh, and my last name well, chisme has it that my Mexican-American dad’s great great great puta grandmother slept with an Italian that had the most Italian last name ever, “Romano” and bada bing bada boom she stole the last name for her male twins out of wedlock. I don’t know how much of that snippet is true, but I’d like to think that part of her being a puta is true just to find some sense of why I am such a slut, it ran in the family. I almost want to write LOL.


Thank you for stopping by, thank you for reading my words. Come back next week for another page of this story. I am writing this as I go along, so I do ask for your patience, and if you must critique, critique me kindly 🙂




You see mostly everyone on their social media post only the beauty but not the ugly?

Yeah me too.

But today I cried ugly. My husband asked why I was crying and I couldn’t give him an answer. I didn’t know why I was crying- still don’t.

Ok I don’t have a point to this story.

I just wanted to share with you a little bit of ugly.

Why Halloween?

The reason why I love Halloween season has nothing to do with dressing up nor with seeking the thrill of being scared.

When I was six years old my father left my mother with three young girls. Being the oldest of the three I felt a heavy responsibility, Halloween was the day that I could distract my mind. Halloween was the first “holiday” of the holidays that ended the year.

At the time my mom’s younger sisters were teenagers and they made Halloween an event we would never forget and haven’t forgotten. We were their little dolls, our aunts would dress us up in all kinds of costumes. They would hype Halloween so much I can still remember the scent around the house, I can still remember the energy and the emotion that filled the halls of the house. That one day, October 31st was usually the day I would be free from missing my father, I didn’t have any worry other than worrying if I was going to have plenty of room in my bag for candy.

Year after year Halloween became a delightful chocolate truffle I enjoyed.

Today as an adult I am chasing after that Halloween high. I seek the same scent, the energy and the emotion I  had when I was little.