I'm a nineteen year old girl whose fondest wish is to be turned into a fuckpig slave. Have my holes wrecked, my womb filled with cum, my free will taken away.
I'm such a wannabe whore, I can't stop looking for attention online and having disgusting, nasty conversations and sharing pictures that I should never have taken.
I love being used so much.
i cry every night i see this girl. we had sex once but that doesn't mean shit to her, I guess because she is a whore or something.. i really feel like i'm in love with her, i can talk to her most of the time, but when push comes to shove she puts up a big front and always starts talking about her ex boyfriends or her "wannabe" boyfriends that treat her like shit.
i know she likes me ... i doubt she loves me .. but yea, everytime I see her in person.. she rejects me..and I go home and literally cry :(
I'm a FTM guy (female-to-male transgender) - meaning I identify and live as male, only I have an extra hole to fuck.
I am also a slut and a wannabe slave. I'm very kinky both IRL and online, always seeking a Master/Mistress to use me.
Right now I could use a reminder of what a worthless whore and freak I am. Post here, PM me, or IM me (y-hoo wildeboy87) and tell me what you'd do to me or what you think should happen to me.
I also like to cam, so if you're kinky enough, maybe you can take me on as your online slave...I'd love to suffer for you.
wannabe whore
I'm in a cop bar on a Friday arvo, downing a few cold ones with a few work buddies. I'd just completed a beat of the CBD, and had busted two crack whores and their pimp for hustling and beat up two gangstas for showing too much lip to me when I was on the beat. Good day.
Anyway, this nigga come up with an attitude. He's dressed in all that fly-boy gangsta crap, but he's clearly not legit - the clothes are too fresh, the bling is too fake, and you can smell the fear in him. He's a wannabe. He's on some dare from his gang, maybe an initiation. So he starts razzing us, saying he's fucking all our wives with his mega-long dick, and how he's going to pop one at us.
We don't pay him mind. See, the cop bar is closely watched. When he's on the street, we'll radio a patrol to pick him up and take him back to the station where we'll introduce ourselves to him at our leisure.
But then his bitch walks in. She's a hot-looking tottie, with a short skirt and high heels and makeup like a ho. She's eighteen or nineteen at most. And so a couple of my buddies wink at me, and we know what to do.
We stitch the guy out proper, drag him to the restrooms where we proceed to wail on his ass. His girl's screaming at us to stop, but we don't pay her no mind, either. What's a young black girl gonna do to us, hey?
She's pleading for us to stop. And then my buddy, the one with the sadistic wink, whispers in her ear. You can see her eyes widen as she hears what he says, and her lips start trembling. But she's a good girl and she loves that no-good loser boyfriend of hers. So she walks out to the back alley with my friend. My friends all takes turns going out to the alley, and finally, it's my turn.
She's still pretty. The tears are all dried and she smells like sweet, rotten roses. Her clothes are torn, and there are bruises on her arms where the guys have squeezed too much. I look her up and down, but her eyes are glazed over and I can tell she's gone, left the building, out in a better place.
I put a fifty in her hand, throw her worthless boyfriend out the door, and tell her that if we ever catch that little shit hanging around our bar again, she'll end up as black and blue as her comatose boyfriend.
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