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The modern day adventures of angry women.


Better to be a slut, even a whore, it doesn’t pay to be a good girl and moral woman.

Donna is a 21-year-old, third year college student studying psychology at Boston University. She wants to continue her education, earn her master’s degree, and perhaps even a doctorate to become a psychologist. The complete package, she’s a good girl, a moral woman, and someone that any man would love to have as a girlfriend and ultimately have as a wife, a mother to his children, and a partner in life.

More than just her good looks and her shapely body, she’s kind, honest, sincere, and loving. She’s a woman that any mother would love to accept her in her home and to have as a daughter-in-law. She’s a woman that any man’s sister would be proud to call her sister-in-law.

Only, saving herself for the right one, her one and only, abstaining from sex, she’s a virgin. What used to be prized hundreds of years ago when the king was looking for his queen, is now met with disdain and a jaundice eye, as if there’s something wrong with the woman to still be a virgin once past the age of 18-years-old. The problem with Donna putting off sex until she finds the right one and is ready to marry is that most men don’t want good girls and/or moral women.

Most men want bad girls. Most men want immoral women. Most men want to have fun while sowing their wild oats before settling down. Most men want to play the field. Most men want to see what’s out there before an anchor is tied around their neck, handcuffs are locked on their wrists, and agree to wear shackles on their ankles in the form of a wedding ring for the rest of their miserable, doom lives.

* * * * *

Instead of longing for the right one and the only one in the way that women do, most men want women who are sluts in clubs. All men want women who are whores in bed. The last thing any man wants, unless he’s standing at the altar with her, is a frigging virgin.

“Pardon? You’re a what? A virgin? No way! Seriously?” The man looked at the woman as if she had a disease that was contagious. “How in the Hell did that happen?”

“I’m waiting for my one and only. I’m waiting for the right one,” said the woman while giving him a look that made him realize that he wasn’t the right one and wouldn’t be getting any sex from her. “I’m waiting for my knight in shining armor. I’m waiting for my handsome prince to sweep me off my feet.”

Yet, instead of walking away and finding another woman who was a slut, a whore, and/or a slut and a whore, he persevered.

“Surely, even if you haven’t had sexual intercourse, you must have given someone a hand job and watched them cum,” he said unzipping himself. “You must have sucked someone’s cock, given them a blowjob, allowed them to cum in your mouth, and swallowed?” He pulled out his cock to expose himself to her but the woman refused to take him in her hand or in her mouth.

“No,” she said. “Sorry. Abstaining from sex, I haven’t given a hand job or a blowjob and haven’t even seen a men’s penis until now that you exposed yourself to me.”

“Seriously? If my prick is the first cock you’ve ever seen, then I don’t see this relationship working. I was hoping you’d be a slut, even a whore but not a virgin,” he said putting his cock back in his pants, zipping himself, and walking away. “Goodbye.”

* * * * *

I dare say that unless they’re marrying them, most men want nothing to do with virgins. One would think that any terrorist who declares war on America and is willing to blow himself up and all those around him with a bomb vest would want to do that for the sake of going to Heaven to be with a thousand whores. I don’t understand why a terrorist would commit suicide to be with a thousand virgins. Seriously, it makes no sense to want to be with a thousand virgins.

“Hey, Achmed, be honest and tell me the truth. Swear on your camel,” said Abdul, “When you died to be with one thousand virgins, did you think that Heaven would be anything like this?”

“No, Abdul,” said Achmed. “I swear on my camel that I thought Heaven would be better. With all of these women saving themselves for Muhammad, none of these women want to have sex. If I knew that Heaven would be like this with a thousand virgins saving themselves for the right one, I would have held out to be with a thousand whores.”

* * * * *

On the other hand, when a man is with who he perceives as being a slut, a whore, and maybe even a slut and a whore, he doesn’t waste his time watching reruns of Sex and the City with a virgin. Instead, already in sexual Heaven without having to kill any infidels, he wants to see how far he can go sexually with his non-virginal girlfriend who possibly may be a slut, a whore, or even a slut and a whore.

“What do you say we make our own sex tape Baby? What do you say we make a sex tape that’s better than the sex tape that Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and Kim Kardashian illegal bahis made?”

Looking at him as if he was possessed by the Devil, his girlfriend stared at him speechless.

“I want to film you sucking my cock. I want to film me giving you a cum bath. I want to film me cumming all over your face, your hair, and your naked tits,” said a typical man who wants a whore for a girlfriend but not as a wife. “I want to film us having sex in public. I want to show your naked body to the world.”

If she had the forethought to have made a voodoo doll of him, she would have stuck pins in his eyes. She would have cut off his tongue and his hands before cutting off his cock.

“I have an idea,” said the man to his girlfriend who he thought was willing to do anything to sexually please him. “You and your girlfriend get naked and then get in the sixty-nine position. I want to film you eating one another’s pussies. You know, being that this will be your first time with a woman, if you like having sex with women as much as you like having sex with men, maybe we should try the swinging lifestyle. I’d love to watch you suck and fuck a multitude of men,” he suggested.

It was then that the woman decided to end this relationship that was going nowhere and throw him out of her bed and out of her house.

“You want to film me having sex with you? You want to make a sex tape that supersedes the sex tapes of Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and Kim Kardashian? You want to film me getting a cum bath from you while you cum all over my face, my hair, that I just had done, and my tits? You want to show my naked body to the world? You want me to get in a sixty-nine position with my best friend and eat one another’s pussies? You want me to participate in the swinging lifestyle and suck and fuck a multitude of men?”

As if she was a terrorist plotting his death and he was an infidel, she gave him a hard look.

“Do you think of me a slut? Do I look like a whore to you?” If looks could kill he would have been dead already. “Get out of my house! Get out! Go! Leave! Screw! Scram! Get Lost! Just get the fuck out you dirty bastard!”

Once most men are done with the women sucking them, they want to watch their women having sex with other men. Once most men are done fucking their women, they want to watch their women having sex with other women. Once most men think of their woman as a slut and/or as a whore, they no longer respect their women. Done with them, they’ve gotten as much as they could get out of them and now are on to the next woman.

* * * * *

Only, Donna is not that type of women. She’s not a slut or a whore. She’d never willingly agree to make a sex tape. Unless she was drunk or drugged, she’d never allow anyone to take a picture of her without her clothes. Gross. She’d never allow any man to disrespect her by giving her a cum bath. Being that she’s a virgin, she’d never agree to have sex with any man unless he was her one and only and had already made his vows by saying, “I do.”

She’s a pretty girl. Her shoulder length, chestnut, brown hair matches the color of her mahogany eyes. At 5’8″ tall and 130 pounds, she resembles Anne Hathaway in looks and in body structure, only without the big nose and with bigger breasts. Actually, she’s much better looking than Anne Hathaway. Yet, even more than her outward appearance, her outgoing personality, quick wit, fun sense of humor, intelligence, and her kind nature are her best features.

Unfortunately, ruining her life’s plan of saving herself for her special someone, she lost her virginity at a frat party. Normally busy with her studies, when not in church praying for those less fortunate, she works part-time at the Boston animal shelter on Chandler Street and pitches in at the mission to feed the homeless at the Pine Street Inn in Boston. The one time she relented and went with her friends to a frat party was the biggest mistake of her life. With her drunk, drugged, disoriented, and unconscious, she was stripped naked and raped by three members of the Boston University football team.

* * * * *


Tall, blonde, beautiful, and busty with blue eyes, she must be a whore.

Samantha was a real looker. Tall, blonde, beautiful, and busty with big, blue eyes, she was very good looking. She looked like a younger version of Heidi Klum. Every man and even some women who saw her wanted her. Every man and even some women who saw her made a pass at her. Only, in the sexy way she looked, men, as well as women, just wanted her for one thing. Not seeing beyond the outside package, they all wanted to use her for sex.

Sex, sex, sex, everything is all about sex. With few men thinking that they could get someone who looked like her alone long enough to love them, most men figured that they could get someone who looked like her naked for an hour after some late, night, heavy drinking. Perhaps the reason why so very many beautiful women end up with ordinary looking men, such as Billy Joel with supermodel Christie Brinkley, Mick Jagger with supermodel illegal bahis siteleri Jerry Hall, and Ric Ocasek with supermodel Paulina Porkizkova, is because most men fear beautiful women. Most men fear being rejected and shot down. With their egos deflated, most men fear going home alone to an empty bed.

If only a man would take a chance on love instead of just settling for empty sex, he may be surprised. Only most men would rather not make a commitment. Most men aren’t ready to profess their love. Most men would rather have something meaningless for an hour than to have something meaningful for a lifetime.

Being that she was a blonde and pretty with big tits, most men don’t respect her. Most men don’t see past her pretty face and her big breasts to see the quality and the goodness of the woman inside. Sadly but truthfully, not listening to her when her mouth wasn’t full with their tongue or their cock, most men don’t care what she had to say. While staring at her pretty face and/or her big breasts, they pretend to listen to her talking about herself. They pretend to be interested in what she had to say. Only, if given a pop quiz and asked to repeat what she just said, few would remember one complete sentence of anything she said.

With Samantha, Sam, or Sammy, what her friends called her, not a slut or a whore, but a one man women, with her long blonde, lush hair and big, D cup boobs, men just assumed that she was a slut and a whore. Just because a woman is big breasted, most men think of them as wenches from the 16th century when the pirates roamed the high seas in search of Spanish ships to steal their gold.

When most men look at her, rather than seeing the woman she is inside, they just imagine her topless. They imagine her naked. They imagine her on her knees and sucking their cocks or bent forward while fucking them doggie style. Whenever most men think about her, they imagine her naked and in their bed with them while giving them hot sex.

Only with her having so very many other qualities than physical and sexual, she’s not just about sex. She’s about love. She’s about kindness, goodness, and wanting to be a good person. She’s about finding Mr. Right, getting married, and having children. She’s about committing her body and her soul to the one man she loves and wants to spend the rest of her life with while making a good life.

Not an easy job but an honest way to earn a living, she worked as a cocktail waitress across from Boston’s Public Gardens at the prestigious Four Seasons Hotel on Boylston Street in Boston. She couldn’t count how many men asked her out for a drink after work. With her a cocktail waitress, the last thing she wanted to do was to have a drink after work.

She couldn’t count how many men left their room key as part of her tip. An upscale bar, where people gathered after work to socialize, one would think that the customers would be upscale too. Some male customers were classy and well-mannered but most of her business customers weren’t. Not giving her the respect that she gave them and that she deserved in return, they were rude and they were grabby.

Sometimes between the drunken stockbrokers groping her, the arrogant lawyers not taking no for an answer, and the accountants propositioning her, she wished she kept a stun gun in her pocket. No matter how much money, education, or stature men have, give any man a couple of drinks, especially when in close proximity of an attractive cocktail waitress and he’ll try and grope her in the way that a drunk would grope a barmaid in an Irish pub in South Boston. In the way that all men want their women they marry to be classy, few men exhibit the same characteristics when first meeting a woman.

* * * * *

“Hey Baby, wouldn’t you like to come home with me,” said a fresh man grabbing Samantha’s shapely ass. “I’ll even let you be on top.”

She looked at him as if he was nuts. She looked at him as if he was drunk. She looked at him as if he was nuts and drunk.

“I’d have be drunker than you to go home with the likes of you,” she said slapping him across his face. “Besides,” she said with a vindictive smile of victory, “what would your wife say?”

He looked at her stunned that someone like her, a lowly cocktail waitress, would reject someone like him, a rich stockbroker.

“What would my wife say? If I was married, I’d hope she’d say, let’s get naked. Let’s have a threesome,” he said with a dirty laugh. “Let me show you what I can do with this beautiful blonde while you watch.”

* * * * *


“She can’t be a partner. She’s a woman.”

Patricia worked as a successful lawyer. She was a career woman. Whenever men who sat across from her or faced her in court, they referred to her as a bitch, a barracuda, or a witch. If she was a man, they’d refer to her as competent in her job, successful in her career, and a damn good lawyer.

Putting aside plans of marriage and having children, even having a boyfriend, until it was too late for her to give birth to a child of her own, she put her canlı bahis siteleri job first before finding Mr. Right. Dedicated and driven, her studies and education took a backseat to romance. Then, once she passed the bar on her first try, her law career came first before anything. Putting her career before her sleep and jeopardizing her health, she’s spent sleepless nights at the office when working on a case.

Tall and thin, masking her femininity to fit in a man’s world without calling undue attention to herself, even with her hair up and wearing little makeup, she was still strikingly beautiful. Imagine Robin Wright, Naomi Watts, Uma Thurman, or Charlize Theron dressed as a man and that’s Patricia. She could never hide the fact that she’s a woman, a beautiful woman.

As if wearing a uniform, she always wore blue, grey, or brown business suits with a matching white, linen blouse and blue, grey, or brown high heels that matched her outfit. She looked like a lawyer. She looked like a company CEO, only there aren’t very many CEO’s of companies that are women.

Unless she was going to trial and lugging her boxes filled with briefs, law books, and research, she carried the same briefcase, a black leather one that she slipped over her shoulder in the way that a woman wears a handbag. Speaking of handbags, she didn’t use a handbag. With her briefcase having so very many pockets, she had no need for a handbag. Too conspicuous, handbags made her feel like every other empty headed woman who was more concerned over powdering her nose than she was over her education. From her smartphone, to her day/date scheduler, to her laptop, and to her handgun, everything she needed was in her briefcase.

Tailor made and loosely fit to iron away her curves, her business suits made her appear wider and heavier than she was. Instead of complementing her sexy, shapely figure, whatever she wore downplayed her womanly curves of her sexy body. If she could make herself look any more like a man without looking like a Butch, a Dyke, or a lesbian, she would.

In the way that all judges, whether male or female, wear long, black robes, if she could get away with wearing a long, black robe to court, she would. Only, mocking and masquerading as a judge, she’d be in contempt of court. Nonetheless, with there no room for her as a woman in court, she tried to eliminate her femininity from her job as a lawyer by dressing more like a man.

Wearing minimal makeup, she wore her hair severely pulled back in a tight bun. Her hair was pulled so tightly back that her face, with nary a wrinkle, looked like she’s had Botox treatments or a facelift. One would think that wearing her hair pulled so tightly back would give her a headache. One would think that wearing her hair pulled so tightly back would ruin her good looks. Only, she was the type of woman who could shave her head and still look beautiful.

Having earned her undergraduate degree from Harvard Business School, she earned her law degree from Yale Law School. With most firms having an unspoken code of no room at the top for women, nonetheless with her Ivy League school education, she was hoping to make her way in a Boston law firm. She specialized in contract law. She specialized in suing big companies that had deep pockets for the smallest civil rights infractions. She specialized where the bulk of the compensation is awarded in class action lawsuits.

Alas, a double edged sword, even though she made a lot of money for her law firm, she made a lot of enemies from those CEO’s who she beat, belittled, and humiliated in court. In the way that the parquet floor was to a basketball player, the football field to a football player, the diamond to a baseball player, and the ice rink to a hockey player, the courtroom was her battlefield and where she felt most comfortable. Putting her game face on, with her being a real warrior, a gladiator in an arena alone and pitted against giants, even those lawyers on her side feared her.

Hiding in the background while waiting to get back at her, those influentially, powerful men made career waves for her to make sure that she never made partner. Calling in all of their favors to make her life as miserable as she made their lives, they were all out to get her and to get even with her. The only men who remotely liked her are the men who wanted to fuck her, dominate her, and control her. Only, a modern day version of Cleopatra, Florence Nightingale, Queen Elizabeth I, Coco Chanel, and Elizabeth Taylor, all rolled into one strong woman, no man could control a woman like her.

Except for the male partners in her own law firm, it was always the men drinking and having their cigars at the country club who hated her the most. It was always those men going golfing and/or who frequented strip clubs who talked about her and plotted against her behind her back. With her not invited to the inner circle of leather, boardroom chairs and mahogany tables, even though she was very successful at winning, being that she was a woman, after all, she was of no consequence. She was of no consequence until she faced them in court. Then she was an in their face hurricane force who blew back the piles of paperwork they used to cloak, confuse, and confound their dirty deeds and secret deals they used their shell companies to hide behind.



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