Eugenie's Story

by Jedd Clampett

Copyright© 2017 by Jedd Clampett

Romantic Sex Story: Sequel to "The Dentist".

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   Cuckold   Petting   .

An introduction and fair warning.

It would be a good idea to read ‘The Dentist’ first, as there’s no overt rehash of that story here. Second, this is told as a series of entries in a diary so it is not constrained by linear thought. And last, remember this is Eugenie’s story. If Chase can forgive and still love her, maybe you could show a little compassion too.

It starts and ends with Chase as he opens, reads, and then comments on his wife’s diary.


Her Sequel to The Dentist.

Hello, my name is Chase McClendon. You may have heard or read about Eugenie the mother of my three daughters, and the woman I married and will love till the day I die. I got a surprise this morning; it seems Eugenie’s been keeping a diary. Well if anyone knows anything about Eugenie and me it certainly won’t surprise them if I decide to do a little eavesdropping. Let’s open this up and drop in on her...

Dear Diary:

This is entry number one: my first day.

OK, this is how I’m going to begin. For a few minutes I’m going to pretend I’m Edwin Booth; brother to John Wilkes Booth the man who murdered Abraham Lincoln.

Remember both brothers were famous stage performers. Right after Lincoln’s murder Edwin left the stage, and he stayed out of the public eye for quite a while. Later he went back to work; the house on opening night was packed. People wanted to see the brother of the man who murdered the president. Many wanted to lynch him. And what did Edwin do; he took a chair, and before the play was set to begin he went out on stage alone. All alone he sat down and let the audience yell at him, call him names, and throw things at him. He sat there all by himself and said nothing. Finally the people in the audience grew quiet; they began to realize Edwin was even more ashamed and more despondent about what his brother had done than they were.

The audience did finally quiet down. Booth went backstage and prepared for his performance. He played the role of Hamlet; a role that over the years he made especially famous.

That’s not all diary; a few years later while Edwin was starring in a play there was a tragic accident in the playhouse. Lincoln’s son was there, and his life was in peril. Well Diary; just guess who saved the boy? That’s right Edwin Booth saved Lincoln’s son’s life; the murderer’s brother saved the life of the murdered man’s son.


Entry two: it’s still the first day.


Sorry Diary I had to go and have a good cry. I’ve been crying a lot these past few months, but I’m getting better. Oh the guilt and shame is still vividly there, but I’m doing better. I’ve had help. I’ve had a lot of help. I’ve had Chase.

I know everyone hates me. I know what they think of me. They all think I’m the round heeled, two-faced, home wrecking, unfaithful, self-centered bitch who tore up everything Chase and I built. Yes, I destroyed my family. I was the cause of the loss of all our property. I’m the reason my three girls, my precious girls, have nothing; they don’t even have a bed of their own. I ruined my husband’s happiness. I destroyed everything. That’s why people hate me. I don’t blame them. I hate me too.

Well Diary, you’re my secret friend and hidden witness so I’m here to say that the Eugenie who did all those awful things is dead. Like John Wilkes Booth died in a barn in southern Maryland, the old Eugenie died while wrapped in her sweet, still loving, and unbelievably forgiving husband’s arms.

Like John and Edwin I’m here to say, even as John was the murderer and the destroyer, and Edwin was the rescuer; I, one time Eugenie McClendon nee Bonheur now Eugenie the ‘Worthless Nobody’ make these solemn promises. First I vow Eugenie the destroyer is henceforth now and forever dead, or she will be soon. Second I vow a new Eugenie will emerge from the ashes of the terrible heartbreak and destruction she created. I vow the new Eugenie will earn back the respect, love, and trust of her ex-husband and her three girls. And last I solemnly vow and swear the new Eugenie will find a way to restore her family to a position of good emotional and economic health. By Almighty God I promise I will do these things. I swear by Jesus and Mary his mother I will save my family. I promise I will restore what I destroyed.

Good night for now Diary. I’ll be back real soon.


Entry three: several days later.


I’m sorry I’ve been away almost a week, but I’ve been doing some serious thinking. I’ve begun to go to work too, not at a job though, I’ve started on something a lot more important.

I’ve been thinking about the ‘Old Eugenie’, what kind of person she was, and how I can confess my guilt and still retain the small fragments of ‘Old Eugenie’ that weren’t totally bad.

Well here goes; I’ve had to go back and give myself an honest appraisal, I’ve had to assess what I’ve been like, and why I’ve been that way. It’s like I’m Dorian Grey, and I’m looking at the awful portrait that shows my real self. I tell you I don’t like what I see.

I’m not going to try to blame anybody else for my guilt, but It’s my story, you’re my diary, and I can say what I want as long as it’s the truth.

OK, let’s get to the basics. First I’m not pretty. I have dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and a very plain complexion. I guess I should be thankful I never had acne and I don’t have any of those awful hairy moles, but pretty I’m definitely not. Oh there are women with my general appearance; there’s Rachel Leigh Cook and Courtney Cox, they’re pretty, but me I’m just plain.

I remember when I first started to develop. Oh I got my period early enough, but that turned out to be a joke. All my girlfriends had moms who made a big deal out of it. They went out and bought the napkins and tampons. Their moms all had the long mother and daughter talk about boys and sex. My mom, no way; when I showed her my first blood spots she just shrugged. She gave me some money and told me what to buy. She told me to look up menstruation in a book, and about a week later she took me to the doctors, he checked me over, and handed my mom a prescription for birth control pills. For me, the doctor’s office was the big mother-daughter bonding moment. I’m not blaming my mom for what I became, but a little help and nurturing early on wouldn’t have been bad, more about my mom later.

I was late getting my boobs. Most of my friends were starting to shape up by the eighth grade. Not me; nothing showed up for me till the middle of the eleventh grade. It made sense I guess. I was in all the top classes in school; all the other girls in my classes were flat chested too.

So there I was, halfway through the eleventh grade, no boobs, no waist, no ass, short nondescript brown hair. I was so near sighted contact lenses wouldn’t work, and my parents were frugal so they didn’t think the more stylish wire frames were worth the cost. I ended up with thick plastic tortoise shell frames and thick coke bottle lenses. I was so self-conscious it hurt.

That spring was the junior prom. I so wanted to go to the prom. All my girlfriends had dates. I was desperate. There was one boy. He wasn’t a jock or anything, but he was a nice boy. He never made fun of me or called me names. Yeah I got called names. Believe me no girl wants to be called ‘Flatty Patty’ or ‘Patty Pancakes’. Heck my name wasn’t even Patty!

I started being extra nice to this boy. I went out of my way to sit near him in the cafeteria. He had a car, and I wangled a way to get him to take me home from school a couple of times. He was kind of shy, but about two weeks before the prom he asked me to go with him. Of course I said yes.

Against her better judgment my mom agreed to take me out to get a prom dress. She took me to one of the cheapest dress shops in the area; at least it wasn’t Walmart. I was so pleased; a real date in a car with a boy I sort of liked.

A couple days later I noticed the boy had started avoiding me. I knew what was coming but I asked him what was wrong anyway. He told me he’d changed his mind; he’d asked another girl to the prom instead of me. I thought well at least he was honest. When I went home and told my mom all she did was take the dress back. Was I heartbroken; well who wouldn’t be? I mean I cried some.

After that I climbed back in my shell. I never even tried to make friends with any boys. I went through the last of my junior year and all my senior as a complete recluse.

I’ve got to sign off for now. It’s close to 4:00 and the girls will be home soon. Chase gets home at 5:00, but he goes back out at 7:00 for his night job. He teaches night school. I want to clean myself up a little, fix my hair and put on some makeup. I’m not working right now. I stay home and take care of Chase’s mom. She’s pretty bad with Alzheimer’s these days. I want to be my best for my ex-husband. God Diary I love him so much!


Entry Four: 4:00 a.m. the next morning.


Good morning Diary. I guess by now you know I get up way ahead of everybody else. Chase’s mom will be awake pretty soon, so this will be I’m afraid the only time I’ll get to talk to you for a couple days. I wanted to say something about last night.

We had spaghetti for dinner. I made a special cake for dessert. I’m getting pretty good at cooking. I really like making pastries. I’ll probably get fat. We had dinner, and I got Chase off to his night job. I helped my girls with their homework, and tried to get them in bed before their dad came home. Chase’s mom was pretty easy last night. Sometimes she goes off, but last night she was OK.

That’s not what I wanted to tell you about. Chase got home around 10:30. He was really bushed. He took a shower and came in our bedroom all ready for sleep. I wasn’t into that last night. I know Chase loves me; he took me back didn’t he? But I know how he feels about all the bad things I’ve done. Now I just want to make him happy.

I had on my pale pink two piece nightie. I wore it because I know how much he likes it. I’d showered and freshened up before he got home. Once he got in bed I went to work. I thought I’d be extra nice.

He climbed in bed and sighed.

I got in beside him and reached down for his thing. Chase isn’t a big man; he’s barely six foot, but he’s got a nice thing. I’ve been with my share of men before Chase, and then there was the dentist. Comparatively speaking believe me Chase has the size, but it’s not just the size that counts. Honestly, Chase is the only man who’s been able to get all the way up inside me. That’s not completely true; Ken the Kenyan got all the way a couple times, but never like Chase. More important Chase has staying power. When he gets hard he stays hard. Even more important when he’s inside me he puts his hands all over me, he kisses on my face and around my neck, and he whispers sweet things in my ear. Now I’m back in his bed where I belong. I wonder all the time what I was thinking; to have left him for the dentist, that was unreal.

I remember when he first let me back in bed with him. I was so cold down in the living room. He took pity on me. Those first couple of nights I don’t think he was able to get it up; that’s how badly I’d hurt him. I remember those first few nights and how careful I was. I just let him hold me. I’d hold him too. I’d lie in his arms and cuddle up as tightly as I could. I kept kissing his chest. I kept whispering about how much I loved him. I kept promising him how I’d make things better. I never tried to touch his thing, but after a few nights I felt him begin to stir.

Last night I could tell he was desperately tired, but I sensed he still had a need for some affection. That’s what’s been funny about the whole thing with us. Even when we first got married and the deal was just a business relationship I could sort of sense when he was off his oats. It was never anything he said or did; there was just something about him. I can’t explain it. It’s been like E.S.P. or something.

Back to last night. I knew he needed me. I climbed in and started to softly touch his thing. It turned out so great. Let me tell you some of it.

I was lying there lightly touching the tip of his flaccid penis when he said, “Not tonight honey, I’m tired and have a headache.”

He’d started calling me names like honey again. I like that. I kept touching his thing. I whispered, “I’m going to help you relax.”

He sighed and laid there on his back. I scooted my head under the covers and crawled down to his thing. I started to kiss of his thingy’s tip. Chase was circumcised when he was a baby. I’m glad because I don’t like that hood stuff.

While I was fiddling with his penie, I used the fingertips of my right hand to softly rub his neck. He turned his head into my fingers and murmured, “Cut it out that tickles.”

I moved my hand down to his left arm and got him to lift it so his left hand was on my head. He started to gently pet the top of my head. It felt really good.

I kept kissing his thingy. I started to lick up and down on his shaft always making sure I ended each lick on the tip. He started to get hard.

It only took a few more seconds and my Chase was almost all the way erect. He pulled me back up and crawled on top of me. He was so warm; his body felt like a furnace when he got on top of me. Then he slid inside me. Of course I was already wet. I’d been thinking about doing this with him all day.

He was tired so he moved in and out slowly. I wrapped my arms around his head and started whispering, “I love you. I love you so much.”

That was all the incentive he needed. He started driving in a little harder. He went all the way up inside me. He didn’t last long. I didn’t expect him to, but he flooded my insides with his stuff. His manhood went way up deep inside me. I felt so good, I felt so complete.

Once he finished he rolled off, but I wasn’t finished. I crawled back under the covers and proceeded to lick him clean. Sperm smells bad and sometimes it tastes bad too, but this was my Chase’s sperm. I didn’t care.

He was really tired and he’d gone flaccid pretty quick. I didn’t care. I got most of him inside my mouth and just lay there, him inside my mouth and my tongue kind of trying to swish and swirl all around him. Stuff kept dribbling out in my mouth.

I knew he was really tried; he worked two jobs already, but he slowly started to get hard again. Now I know my Chase, if he gets hard he expects that he should get back inside me. He’d always felt that just me doing him was kind of him being selfish. Back before, back when we’d been married I’d let him think that, that had been me being selfish.

He knew he was getting hard again and I felt him move like he was going to take over. I pushed him down and crawled down so that I was under the covers kneeling between his legs. I took the next several minutes slow and easy while I sucked him off. All the while I used my hands to rub his abdomen. Every now and then I let him slip out of my mouth so I could kiss his tummy. It would kind of bounce. Then I’d put him back in my mouth. When he ejaculated I drank it all in. That last thing, swallowing all his semen was something I’d refused to do when we were married. I do it now though. I’d do anything for him.

When he and I were finished he pulled me up and whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”

I kissed his neck and cheek and whispered back, “I wished I’d done it more often back before.”

At first he stiffened a little, but then he sighed and hugged me closer. That’s how we went to sleep.

Well I’ve got sign off for now, but you see what I’m doing. I want Chase to see that he’s at the center now, not me. I’m becoming a better person.


Entry Five: It’s been three days.


Well diary it’s 2:30 in the afternoon. All the laundry and ironing is done. I do all the clothes. I take all kinds of extra time with the girls’ dresses, blouses, and skirts. I make extra certain every pleat, every sleeve, every collar is perfect, and no wrinkles anywhere. They might not have the most expensive clothes, but they certainly have the freshest and cleanest. Chase likes a starched look so I wash his shirts and when I iron them I dip the button fronts, his cuffs, and his collars in starch. We can’t afford to send them out, but by the time I’m finished they look even better. I’m extra careful with his pants too. When I iron them I use a damp cloth to make certain his crease is perfect. I know the women teachers at his school notice him. I want them to notice him. I may be bad, but I want them to be jealous. That’s still some of the old Eugenie I guess. I don’t care I still want them to notice and want him.

I have something special in the oven too; it’s a triple decker marble cake. I’ve got my own special frosting for it.

I was thinking about my mom and dad. My dad was a truck driver. He drove mostly the ‘big rigs’, but he drove box trucks too. Usually his work took him away two or three days at a time. He was a quiet man. I know he loved me, I think he did, but to him, like nearly all men, he showed his love by how big his paycheck was and how hard he worked. I know all that now; I wished I knew that before...

My mom was a cold woman. My dad was French and Catholic. My mom had been born in West Germany right around the time of the war. She’d been raised a Lutheran, but converted to Catholicism for my dad. I bet that was the only selfless thing she ever did for him. She must have loved him once I guess.

I don’t know whether my mom was cold or just indifferent; indifferent to me and my dad. I can’t say exactly when, but sometime in my early adolescence I realized my mom never much liked kids, and I don’t think she ever really wanted to have me.

There was a time at church when there was this mother-daughter dinner. I went to an all-girls Catholic school so the mother-daughter things were kind of important. When I was little there was always a reason why we had to skip them, but long about the time I was to be confirmed this special dinner came up. All the girls were expected to be there; moms were optional but were still kind of expected. My mom begged off; she said she had to work late. I went alone, but got bored and left early. I mean who’d want to stay when they were the only child at that kind of dinner? No one even said anything when I put my coat on and left; not even any of the priests or the sisters.

I didn’t call for a ride I just walked home. The church was only about a mile from our house anyway. We lived in a neighborhood where the houses were all close together, and at the end of our street there was a tavern. It was called ‘The Lounge’, and my mom went there once in a while. My dad was out on a run, but I had a key to the house. I was twelve after all. When I walked past the ‘Lounge’ I saw my mom’s car. She said she’d had to work, yeah, right. I went on home.

Mom got home shortly after 11:00 and asked why I wasn’t in bed. Like the child that I was I told her the truth. I told her I saw her car at the tavern. I asked her why she lied to me about work, and why she didn’t want to come to the dinner with me. She didn’t get mad; she just shrugged and told me to go to bed. She never explained anything. I guess that was when I finally understood all the signs I’d seen over the years. My mom just didn’t care much about me one way or the other.

So that was my family; a dad who was gone all the time, and a mom who just didn’t give a good shit. Now I’m not blaming my parents for my bad behavior, but I think sometimes I could’ve used some help. Maybe if my mom and dad had been more like Chase’s parents I might have turned out a little better. I’ll tell you about his parents another time.

I’ve got to go for now.


This is entry six.


Wow it’s Friday night. Chase got his sister to babysit his mom, and he took all us girls out to dinner. He said we needed to celebrate.

Chase as you know diary is a math teacher who got promoted to assistant principal. After that he sort of got stymied by affirmative action. We can thank Nixon for that.

Well guess what? He got another promotion, and this one is even bigger than being a principal. Chase as it turns out, thanks to his own diligence, foresight, and hard work became what they sometimes call a Ph.D. slash A.B.D. It’s a school teacher joke really. In the public schools salaries are based on seniority and on college credit. The highest college credit rating is a Ph. D., but in our state the pay increase is handed out after the teacher reaches a certain credit hour plateau and not if they actually get the official degree. It’s only like $500.00-$600.00 a year anyway; that’s not a mistake diary that’s the hundreds of dollars

Here’s the tricky part; getting a Ph.D. can mean having to write some kind of thesis, actually that means writing a book and that can be pretty expensive because of all the advisers costs. Since most of Chase’s advanced graduate work was in education and not just math he’d need to write a thesis paper. An A.B.D. is someone who has all the credentials except the dissertation, that’s Chase, a Ph.D. with ‘All But Dissertation’. Well that plus his outstanding service as both teacher and administrator made him the best qualified for the supervisory position.

So here’s how it happened. The head of the whole math program in our county is set to retire, and he and two other older math specialists plus two county commissioners who’ve known Chase all their lives just looked at the record and handed Chase the job. Chase said it really pissed off the ‘professional unions’ and some other people and some social organizations he refused to mention, but the job’s his. It’s a big increase in pay. I mean a big increase in pay!

Later after our dinner Chase told me he expected several people would file grievances, but he said it wouldn’t matter. He said the commissioners ran the county. Anyone who threw up too big a stink would either be reassigned to something really shitty or they’d be given some other job to keep them quiet. In short, the job was his, and that was that!

That night after we got the girls in bed and his mom settled down I knew he’d need a really extra special treat. All through our married life there’d been one thing I’d absolutely refused to give Chase or anybody. It was something I knew he’d sampled before we’d gotten married, and it was something I knew he liked.

That night we before went to bed I took an extra-long shower. I washed all over. I washed my vagina and trimmed it up again real nice. I brushed my teeth and gargled real good, and I scrubbed my rear end till it was almost raw. I was so scared. Not once in my whole life had I ever let a man anywhere even close my butt. There were a few times when Chase had tried to put a finger inside me down there, but I’d yanked his hand away and made a big stink about it. Big stink, ha! Once I remembered I’d gone into full bitch mode and left the bedroom until he came downstairs and apologized. That was when we lived at our old house. I miss that house. I don’t know how he’s been able to forgive me for all the bad things I did.

Tonight I was going to let him have me down there. I was a virgin in that place; the only thing that had happened there had been a few big poops. Nothing like Chase’s penis had ever even come close, and don’t forget he’s big, real big. But diary this is the new Eugenie remember?

We went to bed. Chase was really happy; maybe the happiest he’d been in a long time. I climbed in, but instead of lying face to face I pushed my rear end up in his face. He immediately knew what I was offering. First he laughed; then he pulled me up so I was right beside him. He gave me this warm loving look accompanied by the sweetest, no the handsomest smile, and then he softly crooned, “No Eugenie I want you up here close to me.”

I replied, “I’ve never offered this before. Please Chase, take me now. I might be too scared another time.”

He snuggled my neck, “No I want you where you are. Maybe some other time I’ll do your rear.”

I wrapped my arms around him. I knew why he didn’t do my rear. He knew I hated the thought of it. He knew I’d always thought it was degrading. Right then I loved him more than I ever had before. I knew there was nothing he could do to me that could ever be degrading. I told him, “Please Chase, this is my gift to you. I want to show you how much I love you.”

He gave me a condescending smile, “Oh well,” he turned me around and pushed my legs up so my rear end was high in the air, but he didn’t mount me. He knelt behind me and started to lick and kiss my rear cheeks and my rear hole. He never did take me in the rear that night. He just kissed me and held me and snuggled me. Then he moved up, he mounted me and took me in my vagina doggy style. It was one of the most physically and emotionally exhilarating few minutes of my life.

Then he rolled me back over and said, “I love you girl. You offered me a precious thing. I know what it took to make the offer. Maybe someday I’ll take my present, but tonight let’s enjoy each other without fear and without pain.”

God how I love him. I’m going to stop for now. Want to know I’m stopping? I’m rubbing my clit. Yeah, I’m getting myself off.


Entry Seven: OK, it’s been few days.


I’ve been so happy. I haven’t felt this complete in years. I think I’m starting to feel better about myself. I’ve even begun to face some of the things I’ve done in my past. I mean things I did before I met and fell in love with Chase. Diary I want to go back and tell you about some of the awful things I did when I was in college.

To start let me remind you this is the story of the old Eugenie. That Eugenie is gone; it’s like everything I remember happened to another person.

I enrolled in a large university in the Midwest. Thanks to my flat chested introverted days in high school I had a full scholarship. Dad was really excited for me. Mom was happy too; I think she was happy I was going to be out of the house.

I signed up for a general studies program, but by the end of the first semester I realized what I already knew. I had a special facility for foreign languages. I decided to target the Russian language and Russian literature. That was stupid. I don’t know why I stuck with it.

The dorm where I lived was coed. Pretty soon I realized that if I didn’t take some kind of direct action my college life would be as barren as high school. Gee, I still wasn’t much in the boob department. My ass was better, but not by much, and I was still near sighted as hell. None of the boys seemed interested. I knew if I was ever going to lose my cherry and ever find a man I’d have to do something.

I managed to finagle my way into a Fraternity mixer. It was supposed to be a party where new coeds like me would get to know and mingle with other kids with similar academic interests. There was only one interest I had, and pretty soon I got my wish.

That Frat house had several bedrooms that had been either vacant or cleared out. By 9:00 that night I found myself alone in one of them with an older boy. Man he was clever; I mean smooth. First I knew they’d slipped something in my beer. Too bad, if they’d known what I wanted they wouldn’t have bothered.

By 9:30 he had me completely undressed and handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. He went first. I couldn’t say how big he was. All I knew was that it hurt like hell. I mean first I was small, and there was no foreplay or anything. I was dry, dry as a bone. Before I knew it he was up and gone, and another boy was on top of me. When he finished he was replaced by another, and then another. I squirmed and cried, but they kept pouring more alcohol in me, thank God it was mostly beer.

I don’t know how long I was in there. Eventually they left me alone. Someone unlocked the cuffs, and that’s where I spent the night. I woke up the following morning with a hell of a headache and one incredibly sore pussy. Around 9:00 a.m. one of the boys came in and said I had to leave. I couldn’t find my clothes so another boy gave me a Tee shirt and a pair of boxers. They did manage to find my purse with all my personal stuff intact. All my money was gone though.

I managed to find my way back to my dorm. Even though several of the kids from my dorm had been there nobody acted like anything happened.

After that escapade I never had any trouble finding a boy. My phone number must have been published on the Internet or who knows, maybe a bathroom wall someplace? Anyway after that my ‘dance card’ was always full. The only problem was no one offered to take me on a real date. I got lots of calls and lots of offers to go out, but they were all only trips to the park or visits to somebody’s Frat house or dorm. By Christmas I’d become everybody’s fuck buddy, and by February I was out on my ear. Yeah, I spent so much time getting laid I clean forgot about why I was in college. My grades went down the toilet, and with my grades so went my scholarship.

I learned a lot that first semester. I learned that nobody really cared a damn about the little brown haired skank named Eugenie. I spent all that following spring working, and saving, and finding another college. I made myself a promise. At my next school I’d concentrate on grades first, but I’d find a way to use my body to make a little money on the side. Why not; if I was going to be treated like a whore, shouldn’t I at least get paid?

OK, time to stop. The girls will be home soon, and Mrs. McClendon needs help. I’ll write some more later tonight.


Entry Eight.


OK it’s later. It’s 2:00 a.m. All the kids are in bed, and I got Chase off before the eleven o’clock news. God I love that man. I think he’s got a fetish for my behind now. We got in bed. I expected I’d be doing him tonight, but instead he rolled me over and licked and kissed on my fanny and butt hole for a half an hour.

Gee, it feels really funny to have his tongue lick up and inside my butt hole. It’s silly but I’ve got hickies all over my behind. I keep it like totally clean nowadays; sometimes when I’m in the kitchen and no one’s around he sneaks up and puts a finger inside me. I get such a rush. Someday I know he’s going to do me anally. I don’t know. I’m not sure. I might even like it.

Well he climbed up behind me and we did it doggy style again. I love it when he does me doggy; he gets really way up inside, and his ministrations to my butt cheeks and my little round butt opening always gets me sopping wet. He climbs up on me and just slides in. Oh it’s so invigorating! He hits my G-spot! I didn’t know they really existed, but I know they do now. I think I’m learning to squirt!

Now Diary back to my college days.

I found a good ‘in state’ university; one where the tuition wouldn’t cost and arm and a leg. My dad helped me with the money. This school was local; a commuter’s college so I had to drive back and forth from home. My mom didn’t like that so much. I found out why pretty quick.

I found out when I got back home after my first stint at college my mom had started bringing her boyfriends in the house. To play it safe she’d been using my room. Now with me back she had to modify her program. All through high school she’d pretty much managed to hide what she was doing from me. Now I just didn’t care. I told her to make sure dad never found out. I wasn’t sure, but I think he kind of knew. Anyway our relationship, what little there been between my mom and me just about dried up.

I remember I started telling myself, “My mom’s whore so I’m a whore too.”

That’s where I went with it. I was more clever at my second school. I used my body like a carpenter uses the tools in his tool kit. I had my hands, my mouth, and I had my pussy. Mostly I got paid with stuff like free lunches or easy entry into the better fraternity houses where I could score with the boys who had the real money.

I mean I never asked to get paid. I wasn’t that blatant, but they all knew there was always some kind of quid pro quo. Maybe it was access to fraternity test files for certain classes. Maybe it involved an invite to some professor’s house. That was always a good deal. Get inside a professor’s head by giving a little head. Ha, talk about grade inflation!

At my second school I never pulled anymore trains. There weren’t any gang bangs; at least none I remember, but I was almost as promiscuous. I just squeaked by academically, at least until I was a senior. It was in my senior year I realized I’d have to do something after I graduated, that was if I did graduate.

I’ve got go now. I’ll get back with you in a day or so.


This is entry nine: OK, Time Out! It’s about my girls!


I’m worried sick. I mean I’m just sick. My girls, all three of my girls have just pulled the rug out from under me. I knew there was a lot of resentment and anger there, but I never knew just how bad it was. I’m going to give you the short version; the long version is just too painful.

We were at the dinner table and Mrs. McClendon was acting particularly obstreperous. She was interrupting everything anybody said, and she kept fidgeting and whining and just mewling and whimpering and acting like a baby. This was part of the Alzheimer’s and we all knew it. I started to get up to help her upstairs where I could calm her down, but she got all resistant and said she wanted Maris to take her upstairs. She looked at Chase when she said Maris so we all knew she was completely out of it. Maris had been her deceased husband’s name.

Chase got up and said, “OK, come on mom. I’ll take you upstairs,” she was into some wholesale weeping by then. Chase took her up to her room.

No sooner had Chase left the table than Lea started in, “This is all your fault mom.”

I’d been dreading the day this would come. I tried to smile and said, “I know I have a lot to answer for.”

Then Sophie hit me, “Dad hates you. You know that.”

I replied, “I know he’s been very disappointed in me, but I’m trying to regain his respect.”

We went back and forth for a while, Lea, Sophie, and me. Mai stayed out of it. I never tried to make excuses. I couldn’t. I had none. I thought I was doing all right up until...

Mai lit into me, she said, “You had to ruin everything. We had a nice house. I had a future. Lea and Sophie had plans. Dad was happy. You cheated. You broke dad’s heart. You made us live with that crazy man. Mom, you just couldn’t handle it. You really fucked us up.”

I’d never heard Mai curse, not once, not ever. Now she dropped the ‘F’ bomb. I couldn’t handle it. I burst into tears. I wanted to run away. If I had a gun I would have shot myself. That’s when Chase walked in.

Chase has to be just about the most wonderful man alive. He’s my hero. How I was ever able to miss that I’ll never know. I love him so much. Diary you have no idea just how superbly wonderful he is.

Chase must have heard a lot of what the girls had been saying. He came in and sat back down at his seat. He reached his hand out and put it on the center of the table and said, “I want all of you to put your hands on mine.”

All the girls reached out and did as he said. I was afraid. I held back. Chase smiled at me, “You too Eugenie.”

Put my hand on top of Mai’s, her hand was on top of her sisters.

Chase started to talk. He spoke in a low carefully metered conversational tone; I realized I was watching and listening to Chase the teacher. I’d seen this before. He’s terrific when he gets like that.

He started, “Girls this person you’re yelling at is your mother. She gave each of you your lives. I watched her all three times as she carried you inside her; that was nine months for each of you. I was there when she delivered you. Your mom is small; she’s small down there,” he pointed to his crotch, “each of you was a long and painful delivery. I could never do it.”

Lea tried to interrupt, “But daddy...”

He held up his hand, “I know what you’re going to say. We had a house, we had stuff, and then things happened and we lost all our stuff,” he paused, he got up and got a glass of water, then he sat back down and went on, “You know all that stuff we had was just so much worthless shit,” he looked around at the girls. They’d never heard him cuss like that unless he was angry. Oh Chase could cuss. He could cuss like a sailor, and the girls had heard him, but this curse was slow, deliberate, and as icy as tempered steel.

He went on, “Mai you got leukemia. You got it and it took two procedures to drive it away. Me I had the marrow. I could do something. Your mom; what could she do? Well she could wring her hands, she could pray, she could cry, she could worry, and she could try to comfort you two,” with that he stared at Lea and Sophie, “your mom was completely helpless. All she could do was stand by and be afraid,” he stood up walked around and placed his hands on my shoulders, “Tell me girls what’s the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent,” he didn’t wait for an answer, “I’ll tell you; it’s losing a child.”

I couldn’t help it I started to cry. Chase looked down at me, he said, “Stop that,” He’s so forceful. I stopped.

He looked back at our oldest, “Your mom not once, but twice almost lost you. Neither you nor I nor anyone can possibly appreciate the torment she must have gone through. I saw it the first time, but don’t forget the second time I was sick myself, and you all three remember while I was sick I wasn’t the easiest person in the world to live with.”

Sophie started to say something, “Mommy I’m...”

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