B L A K E page 4

Page 4

Chapter 1


Dear Diary,

I cried all the way home.

Blake is a bastard.

I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate him right now. I don’t even know how I am writing this. My eyes are swollen I can barely see.

After the evening service Blake and I had sex in my car. In the usual place, in the Taco Bell parking lot next door to church. Today after he dicked me down Blake wanted to talk, which he never really wants to because as I wrote before he feels “guilty” after he fucks me then he wants is to leave and pray it out. Right. Like if God isn’t tired of Blake’s shit. After Blake “repents” he treats me like he is “holier than thou” until his dick wants me again.

But today was different… he wanted to talk.

So, after he whipped the condom out the window he asked me if I knew a girl name Maryanne Roberts. Of course, I know her! Who the fuck doesn’t? She’s like so perfect, “virgin Mary” has the perfect everything, her body, her hair and those fucken green eyes; the last I heard her family is extremely wealthy.

In the pit of my stomach I already knew where Blake was going with this.

Then he told me that he feels like she’s “THE ONE”! Are you fucken serious?! Then what the fuck am I?

Without thinking I asked him about us and you know what he had LOS PINCHES HUEVOS to tell me, that the only reason why he started to talk to me was because he needed to take care of his “fleshly” desires and masturbating was not going to cut it.

He said, “You seemed like good pussy and I wasn’t wrong, but I need my wife to be a woman of God, a virgin and younger a lot younger than you — oh and of course not fat, but this was fun babe”.

Those words cut me DEEP, but just to show him that I am a boss bitch, I told him that this was getting a little tiresome and I was glad he chose another victim.

I am tired of myself. It’s fun and games when I am horny and I end up sleeping with a guy, but I hate that I fall for them so quickly. I thought this could be something. Why am I so stupid? Why did I have hope for him? Why did I beg God? I begged that Blake would be my future husband. And now at this very moment all I hope is that he rots in hell, fucken asshole.

I leave my diary open to dry. As you can imagine, I cried on it.

Desperately, I yank at the zipper from my Sunday dress, I can’t wait to take it off. My soaked panties are on the floor, I couldn’t bare to sit in them a minute longer. Looking at myself in the mirror makes me cry harder- I look pretty when I cry. Once I am in the shower I let the hot water fall on my face, I wish it was scorching just so that I can feel a little more pain.

Hello my dear reader, thank you for stopping by. Thank you for being supportive and patient.




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 🙂



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.

It’s Time

We don’t know anything about time.

When people say, “oh it’s perfect timing“-they mean …

that whatever happened at the time it happened, happened at a time that was convenient for them not even aware of God’s timing.

God’s time seems not so perfect to us as humans, but it is PERFECT and it is the GREATEST time of all.

I now look at my life and see that everything fell into place at God’s perfect time. I did throw some tantrums here and there because I thought God didn’t know what He was doing.

All though this is not the end I cannot help but rejoice that I haven’t taken time into my own hands.
At a perfect time I traveled, I have found the man of my dreams and after a couple of careers I finally found the career I enjoy.


Between you and I, being a step mom is wonderful BUT I am relying on God’s perfect timing to have a child of my own.