A Holiday Fare

I had gone to Iceland on holiday and met up with some friends I hadn’t seen in ages. They suggested a club called the ScandiClub, a hub of Norse creation and experience. Of course I was up for anything, though soon got tangled away from my friends. I ended up quite drunk from far too many horns of mead so decided to call a cab back to my hotel.

 

I made my call, a place suggested by the barkeep, and then made my way outside. The cool night air clung to my body. I pulled my arms around me, cursing myself that I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. My skirt hung low on my hips, split up the sides in true Viking fashion while my top was barely covered by material with jeweled accents. My hair was done up in braids of a shield maiden, that came around my face perfect accented with the makeup choice I had made for the night. As I waited on the taxi the air reminded me of my clothing choice, and I could not wait to get back into my hotel room to strip out of the little clothing I had on.  I started to wobble, my breasts jiggling in the top just as the taxi pulled up to greet me.

 

“You call for a taxi love?” The driver smiled out at me. I nodded and as quickly as possible when one is drunk got into the car shivering from head to toe. “A bit cold out for that choice in look” he smiled at me through the mirror.

“Yes, I didn’t exactly think that one through did I?” I laughed a bit more lightly than normal. “Fair-wick Hotel please.”

“Ah yes, no problem,” he nodded a bit, I think perhaps to himself and off we went.

 

I leaned back closing my eyes and lost track of time, too many drinks and not enough energy left me feeling quite drained, though before I knew it the taxi had stopped and there was a hand on my knee. I jerked awake looking at the cabbie. “Sorry love I didn’t mean to startle” he smiled again “we’re here though, it’ll be 12,270 Krona.”

Even in my drunken state I realized this taxi was costing me a little over 100 dollars and I spat at him “are you fucking kidding me? 12,270 fucking krona? You’ve lost your fucking mind!” I started to reach for the door and heard the locks.

“It’s that or I call the police.” The look in his eyes told me he was dead serious and I started to worry. On holiday, no idea who I could call or how to get out of the situation I started to panic. I couldn’t rightly end up in a police station in a country that wasn’t my own. “I only have 12000 krona” I lied, but he wouldn’t budge on the fare. “Unless….” His eyes narrowed and he turned in the seat. “Unless, you’d like to make a deal love?” He left the question hanging in the air.

“A deal, what kind of a deal would that be?” I glared at him a bit between the mead and the frustration of the whole situation I was more than annoyed and not at all in the mood for games or bullshit.

“A simple blow job Love. You suck me off, and I’ll let you out of the car and you’ll keep your 12000 krona. What do you say?”

I sighed knowing I couldn’t call anyone, and really thinking the fare was bullshit. Just another person trying to take advantage of a tourist, though for some reason or another I agreed. “Just a blow job.”

 

He jumped into the back and grinned pulling out his cock, it was one of the bigger I’d seen, probably 10 inches or so. I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, but then he flexed and I noticed the girth of his monster. Thankfully I was drunk so it wouldn’t be too horrible.

I wrapped my fingers around his cock and licked the head as I stroked his length, he sneered at me but a deal was a deal and I knew better than to get out of it by only licking and stroking him. I opened my mouth and slowly started to slip him into my mouth. I stretched my jaw to its max and started to suck him as he fished my tits from my top and I felt it go slack around my waist. One of his hands went to my nipples while the other tangled up in my hair pulling me onto his cock more. His cock inched further into my mouth, teasing at the back of my throat before he started to fuck my face. My jaw already ached and I think he sensed this as he grinned “fuck love that’s good, but how about a break for your mouth?” I arched my brow looking at him “let me have some pussy…” he pushed me back and pulled my skirt up, his mouth attaching to my cunt. My back arched pushing my cunt into his mouth, it felt so fucking good and he knew what he was doing as he teased my asshole with his fingers. Before I knew it he was rimming my asshole, his fingers buried in my snatch. I moaned feeling my juices slick his fingers while his tongue worked my ass, there was no holding back at the pleasure I was feeling. I felt his mouth and fingers leave me and my bottom lip came out making him grin, “Don’t worry love, I have something better for you”. He moved up my body, his Viking beard tickling my skin, his mouth latched onto my left nipple, sucking it in hard and nibbling on it as his cock plunged into my cunt full force. I cried out, my pussy clamping down on him in a mini orgasm, which he delighted in giving a grunt of approval around my nipple.

He pumped into my cunt, slowly at first then picking up pace. I was thrusting back against him as his cock assaulted my cunt and his mouth assaulted my tits. His fingers dug into my sides causing both pain and pleasure, making my body shake under his while I pleaded with him not to stop. I pulled at his hair, my nails dug into his back; I’m sure leaving marks to remind him of the fare. I started to cum, my cunt walls milking his cock “oh fuck yes, don’t fucking stop!” I growled into the space of the car, fueling him on in his ministrations. He fucked me harder then pulled out, pulling me where he wanted me. I ended up on my hands and knees and felt him teasing at my cunt again, my honey dripping down onto the head of his cock “don’t tease me you fucking prick” I grinned back at him, though I was in for a surprise.

I felt his cock move and push into my ass. Instinctively I pulled away, or at least tried, but his hands hooked at my hips and pulled me back onto him, impaling me on his hard fat cock. I cried out, whimpering, begging him to stop, but he was not having that. “Shh don’t worry Love, you’ll love it… I’ll be gentle at first.” He started to pull out of my asshole, his fingers finding my clit under me. He sawed into my ass, his fingers pinching pulling and circling on my clit. I started to mew softly as it started to feel so much better. Before I knew it I was pushing back against him begging him to fill my asshole. He fucked my ass for what seemed like forever, and then pushed me down into the seat. He brutally assaulted my asshole, growling into my ear. I felt his cock swell and his teeth come down on my shoulder. He bit into my flesh, the pain busting behind my eyes sending out a flash of white, my body tightening up as I came harder than I had the entire experience. His balls raced cum into my asshole, filling me to my max “oh fuck yes! Fill my asshole you fucking bastard” I screamed out making small circles up against his hips trying to push him deeper into my ass. He chuckled around my bunched up flesh in his mouth and released his bite. The air stung against the marks I knew he must have left as I felt something very cool against my skin he licked at it and I figured it was either blood or saliva. “You like that don’t you Love? Just a fucking slut for a nice big cock” he grinned with his words. “Get yourself straightened up “, he pulled out of my asshole and I moaned again feeling both full and empty, his cum leaking out of my now gaping asshole. I felt my asshole start to go back to normal and sat up fixing my top and adjusting my tits.

 

“Do you do that often?” I smiled at him.

“Only when someone can’t pay and she’s a hot piece like you. Now out with you Love.”

I smiled back at him as the locks to the doors made a click. I reached for the door and got out as quickly as I could, the night air a welcomed feeling as I’d grown quite hot from my rides back to my temporary home. I smoothed my air and went into the Fair-wick and up to my room. I never will forget that ride home and I can’t wait for my next holiday.

Done Masquerading

So you know it’s bad when I listen to Lordi. It’s my go to pissed off music, and while I’ve been pissed in the past, I haven’t listened to Lordi in a few years. Meaning? It means I haven’t been so pissed off I’m ready to rip someone’s heart out and crush it in front of them in a long time. But here we are aren’t we?

It takes a whole hell of a lot to piss me off to the point I’m done, for those of you that don’t know. It takes a lot for me to just be completely over it, done, and basically delete you from every inch of my life and my mind. Though there have been a few that have made the list for various reasons. I end up being in this really dark space when I get to this point, and I can become someone completely different…. which is basically what is happening now.

When you break my trust, and you cross the line I am completely done with you. You can’t tell me what to do, and you won’t change it. I do NOT share, and the fact that SOME PEOPLE think that they have the right to do the shit they have done is fucking bullshit. You are NOTHING to me. I don’t give a shit what you want, or what you think. I am done. There will not be a cool off and talk to you. There isn’t going to be a oh well I’ll message you. You’ll be waiting for a day that I start to believe in hell actually existing.

 

“It Snows In Hell” – Lordi

You did the trick
I didn’t see it coming
I did not hear a sound

Though you were quick
I will not be forgiving

You won’t be waiting for my return
I promise baby – You’ll burn

Now it snows in hell
This is the day foretold till death do us apart
Now it snows in hell
I’ve gone away but I’ve got you in my heart
All frozen and scarred

Your life goes on
And it’s infuriating
How did you not get caught

Your deed will spawn
A fate beyond your making

You won’t be waiting for my return
I promise baby – You’ll burn

Now it snows in hell – We’re done masquerading
This is the day foretold till death do us apart
Now it snows in hell – No you won’t be waiting
I’ve gone away but I’ve got you in my heart
All frozen and scarred

You shouldn’t visit me at my grave
My hands will grab you through the dirt
I giveth – I taketh away
Witness my rebirth from the devils churn

Hell – We’re done masquerading
This is the day foretold till death do us apart
Now it snows in hell – No you won’t be waiting
I’ve gone away but I’ve got you in my heart
All frozen and scarred

Hell – We’re done masquerading
This is the day foretold till death do us apart
Now it snows in hell – No you won’t be waiting
I’ve gone away but I’ve got you in my heart
All frozen and scarred

The 92 Year Old and the Horse

so I’m at the health care center talking to my grandma and a family friend that just turned 92. Here’s the conversation that followed…

Friend: Got that leg
Grandmother: Who’s legs are you playing with?
F: The horse’s!
G: Can’t you find anything better than a horse?!?
F: I tell you what I FINALLY GOT THAT DAMN SUCKER IN!

Of course my pervy mind goes straight to naughty beastality stuff and I about DIED LAUGHING. 92 year old frail woman talking about a horse and finally getting it in! I can’t make this shit up…. I seriously about lost my shit with that conversation

Thoughts on My Past

I sit here looking at the world and humanity and I’m not sure if I cry happy or sad tears. Humanity has always been filled with hate, and it seems that fact will not change any time soon. It saddens me to admit that. It makes my heart very heavy and sad, and makes me wonder if it will ever truly get better. I have never been a fan of labels and labeling ourselves to better fit into a box. However, I wear so many labels it seems, at least to the outside world, that I wonder if I could ever get away from them. My LABEL is Snow. I AM Snow. Nothing more, and nothing less; I am Snow.

 

I happen to be a part of the LGBTQ Community. I am a pansexual woman. What does that mean; to be pansexual? Pansexual: not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity. I am attracted to a person, to a human, to the connection and THAT is what turns me on. Have I always been pansexual? I guess probably so, though I did not always realize it. When I first “came out” I said I was bisexual. I liked both men and women, but there are so many other humans that do not always fall into that category or just male or female.

 

I remember coming out almost too clearly. I was terrified I would lose every single person close to me. I was afraid I would lose my mother, my grandmother, and aunts, uncles, cousins, and anyone else. Do you know what happened? Some of those people I DID lose, but those that TRULY LOVE ME stayed by my side, and are still by my side supporting me. I remember telling my mother that if it bothered her I was attracted to females as well as males, and any other gender “type” that she was not WORTH my love. I think I truly shocked her with that statement. My mother said something to me that I will never forget. She told me that when I was born she held me in her arms and promised to always love, protect, respect, and guide me. That she would NEVER leave my side, and always be there. True to form, she always has been. My mother doesn’t care if I’m with a man, with a woman, with an asexual or a transgender or if I’m with a damn alien. She cares that I AM HAPPY and well-loved and well taken care of. THAT is what matters to my mother. That HER DAUGHTER is cared for, loved, and adored in the relationship that she is in. I have other family that feels that exact same way. I also have family members that think I’m disgusting, that I’m an abomination, and that I will be in hell if I don’t “save my soul”. Does it hurt me or bother me? Yes, it really does… but it doesn’t for the reasons you might think. When someone that shares the same blood with me, that “love” that we are supposed to have looks at me and tells me I’ll go to hell, that I’m a sick person for not being straight I hurt and I’m very bothered. It bothers me because they are so close minded that they are missing out on life. It hurts that they think everyone should fit into this neat little box and be a carbon copy of every single other person in the world. THAT is what hurts; that they are so closed up they can’t just allow someone else to have joy and happiness. Hell maybe they aren’t even really happy, so that’s why others shouldn’t be happy.

 

Even after coming out I spent so many moments terrified, though it wasn’t at first. No at first I lived my life and I didn’t care one way or another if anyone knew because I was OUT and I would NEVER be pushed back into that box, into that closet, where I would have to hide my true self. Then someone I thought was a friend thought he could “cure” me. He thought he could “fix” me, and make me straight. We were hanging out and having fun, of course we made out a little. Then he tried to push it further. I said no. He didn’t accept that, he forced me down against the couch, and while trying to fight him off of me we fell onto the cold tiles of the floor. He ripped my clothes to get at the things he wanted. He violated me in every single way he could. I remember he kept saying you know you like it, you like men too, you love this cock, I’ll fix you and then you’ll only want men. You won’t have to be perverted and disgusting and fuck girls too. I kept fighting him, kept trying to get away, and cried the entire time. He eventually left me there, curled up on the tile floor, clutching at any part of my ripped clothing I could get. I don’t know how long I was there until another friend found me. I remember thinking if sexuality worked that way, I’d never touch another male in my life, but I knew even then, deep down, that it doesn’t work that way. Yes one man raped me, but that didn’t make all men bad.

 

I continued on with my life. Still refusing to hide who I am, what I am, and while I have amazing memories I have some that are dark. Like being raped, and hurt, left broken and alone. I remember going out with a group of friends, friends that didn’t exactly question or know my sexuality. I remember all of us having this amazing day out hiking and taking in all the beauty around us. While in a cavern, a girl I had met up with while there had advanced. We started to make out and things got hot and heavy. We were young, and the passion overtook us. Of course we didn’t go too far being in public, but one of my ‘friends’ saw me making out with her before she left to go on her own way. I remember being cornered in that cavern, those people around me I thought were friends, spitting on me, telling me I was trash, and beating the hell out of me. I remember later picking leaves and dirt out of my hair, I remember taking little pieces of rock and dirt out of my skin.

 

I still continued on with my life. Though each and every time I was hurt, that violence was projected toward me, I grew a little more terrified. I thought so many times that perhaps I was safer in the box, to go back into the closet, say I’d been cured and start to hide who I was all over again. But… I am Snow. I am too pigheaded for my own good, and too blunt to be stopped. I could have run and hidden in the box again, away from society and the world, but life is too short. Too short to hide, too short to not take full advantage of enjoying each moment I am given in this world.

 

Then there are major attacks on the LGBTQ community, major attacks of hate and violence, and those attacks make me shiver in terror again. Will I hide again? NO. I will never again hide who I am, but I have grown cautious about every single thing around me. I am aware of where I am, who I am with, and I put every single thing in prospective to keep myself safe. That isn’t always enough though, and I understand that. Hate is all around us unfortunately, but it is up to us to stand against it; to be pigheaded and say NO MORE.  Hate is through every single thing not just sexuality. It is against religion, sexuality, the color of our skin, the color of our hair, our lifestyles, our eating habits, the cars we drive or don’t drive. People HATE what they don’t understand and that is where it needs to just stop. So WHAT if you don’t understand, just move the hell along. It doesn’t hurt you; it has nothing to DO WITH YOU. Just… just let it go.

 

The saddest part of it all though is that I personally didn’t come out only once. I had to again and again when it came to my sexuality, my religion, and my lifestyle choices. Each time weeding out those I thought cared, to make room for those that truly deserve to be in my life.

Watching Your Step

So recently I got some new high heels. Now, I haven’t worn heels since forever as I’m almost six foot tall. However, I broke down and got some “girly” shoes, and where I thought I had ordered a two or three inch heel, I ended up getting a five inch heel. Now, again I am almost six foot tall when I’m barefoot so sure we’ll add 5 inches on that too. Oh I knew this was going to be fun… but they are actually really cute, and I’ve gotten super used to wearing them, walking around in them, learning to drive in them, and things as simple as sitting and then getting back up in them. That and driving has proven to be the task that’s not so easy. Where am I going with all this? Read on…

 

A friend of mine has a fetish for heels. He doesn’t like feet, just appreciates a great pair of heels. So he came over to see about fixing something on my car and I of course wore them to tease the ever loving hell out of him. He was a great sport about it, and before too long we ended up in my bed, naked save for the heels and my stockings. I have never had sex in heels before, and OH MY GOD! I am always pretty sure of where my body parts are when I’m sexing it up, as I feel everyone should be conscious about their surroundings and where they are in them. I also have the habit of using my foot against the wall at times…. can you see where this is going?

 

So we are going at it like fucking crazy, and I use my foot for leverage as we’re fucking…. great, until I realize that I’ve just put a deep ass huge scratch in the wall. Paint and plaster are now missing. I don’t miss a beat though and we keep going. Ok, great… but then when we’re moving around and switching it up I’m SUPER paranoid and worried I’m going to like bash his nose in with these fucking huge ass heels!

 

Later I actually thought about how you put booties on dogs and they’re like super fucked up and don’t know what to do. Yeah it’s a bit like that… so lesson in all this? Watch your step when you’re wearing heels and fucking…. specially huge ass fucking heels, cus you don’t want to hit the person you’re fucking in the face with a heel… unless that’s your thing!

An Open Letter to Society

Lately I’ve been on a body hating trip. I haven’t felt pretty or good about myself and I’m kinda sick and tired of it. The truth of the matter is that society has abused me, it’s done unspeakable things to me, and it continues to do this. Society has damaged me in a way that I’m unsure if the damage can be undone. I am honestly so very tired of hating myself, my body, and putting value on myself based on my looks. My VALUE IS NOT MY SIZE. This is completely stupid, yet everyone, in some way, has been effected this way. We associate value with our size and our looks. Long hair, a pretty face, a thin body, and so many more things equate “pretty”. When is enough well, enough?

Until recently “fat” is bad. Now we, a society, are saying NO fat is okay, IF. We’re saying NO fat is okay, BUT. Enough of that shit. I’ve heard enough buts and I’m so SICK of the buts and the ifs and the excuses. I AM BEAUTIFUL. Not because of my size, or my looks, or my hair, or the way I dress. I am beautiful because of what is INSIDE OF ME. I am a mother. I am a friend. I am a daughter. I have compassion and I try to help anyone and everyone that I possibly can. I love with my WHOLE BEING and I do anything and everything that I possibly can, and THEN some for the people I love. I have spent nights alone, sleeping in a car, going without food just so that I can provide the things my daughter needs. I have pushed myself for hours and days and MONTHS to get through the things that I have been through. I have been on death’s door more than once, and I’ve looked Death in the eye and said FUCK YOU. I am a strong woman, though at times I feel weak and invisible.

Yes, I’m fat. You know what though? That’s OKAY. Not because I’m trying to lose weight, not because it would be better if it were in my butt or my boobs, not because I try and I try and nothing seems to work. It is okay because it’s just a fucking shell that I happen to live in. I’m not more or less valuable than ANY OTHER PERSON because of what I LOOK LIKE. Humanity’s value is in our actions, it’s in our minds, and it’s in our hearts and souls. It’s NO WHERE on the outside. I’ve had a LOT of issues with this in the past… and I mean a LOT of issues. I haven’t understood that for SO many years. Why haven’t I? Why haven’t I been able to see it? Why haven’t I been able to believe it? Why am I sitting here, tears streaming down my face, still questioning it all because I’m fat? The answer to all four of those questions is because society and humanity, for the most part, have told me I’m pretty for a fat girl. Or but you should worry about your health. They tell me things like you’re a great person, but your size is really an issue. I’m sorry that you society think that. I’m sorry that you feel like you’re helping me, when really you’re just fat shaming me and making me want to take ANY option out of this body. I’m sorry that you feel like you’re going to make me see a light and change my ways, however in reality you’re making me want to do nothing more than die. You’re breaking me, you’re hurting me, and the fucked up part? If it were a spouse hurting me, you’d be there guns blazing to “protect” me, to help me get away from the situation, to build me up and make me feel like I’m safe. If a man hits a woman you PROTECT THAT WOMAN by all possible means…. but well, we’re just fat and you’re skinny and it’s okay because we should be like you.

Hey society. I’m looking you dead in the eye and I’ll tell you exactly what I’ve told many people on many occasions. FUCK YOU. I’m Snow, and I’m fat, and I’m fucking fabulous!

My Secret…

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have written and rewritten this quite a few times in the last few days. Fair warning, before I start getting into all the details, this is very personal to the point that some of you may not want to read it at all. I don’t want any drama over it, I don’t want people filling my inbox with criticism and crap. I’m only writing this to get it out, and it isn’t for anyone else’s benefit other than my own. I figure if I write this, then maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to sigh a bit of relief and move on. I also want to say this has been tremendously hard to write, even if it is typed on a computer. I have spent hours crying just while writing this, so please respect my wishes, at least with this writing.

I am very aware that a lot of people think I’m a bitch, and a cunt. That many people don’t really give half a shit about me, and that’s well and fine. I will be the first to admit I am a bitch, but I have very good reasons to be so. As I have said before only a handful of people really know ME, and until you know me, don’t judge me. However, this will give you some insight to who I am, what I have been dealing with, and why I’m a bitch in my own right.

So the real question is where to begin? As a writer, I know that the story always starts at the beginning, but the real question is when DID it begin? Was it the pains? The getting sick? Or was it when I started hiding something very huge from those I care so deeply about? Hiding things from those I love and cherish in my life? Okay…. I guess I’ll just pick a point then eh?

I’ve been hiding something from most everyone that knows me for a year and a half. While there are a very select few of you that know, those that I can count on one hand, the rest of you have been in the dark. For that, I am truly sorry. I have never meant to hurt anyone, or been in the position that I wanted to hold something from anyone I love and care about. Some family members don’t even know the things I am currently writing about, so know that if you didn’t know, you aren’t alone by any means, and that I truly apologize for keeping you in the dark.

In August of 2014 I started to notice some changes with my body and the way I was feeling. Being me, as most of you know, I was stubborn and refused to admit these things and have them looked at. In September and October, as I was starting a new relationship I started to get very sick. I couldn’t hold food, drinks, or even water at times. I would start to puke, and puke for at least half an hour at a time. I would continue to vomit until these pains would start. Pains that I’ve felt quite often over the years, they are unlike any form of pain I have experienced before. It feels as if someone has cut open my guts, thrust their fist inside, grabbed a fist full of my insides and started to clench and twist them around. These pains would, and still do, cause me to not be able to move, to cry out in pain, anger and suffering, and eventually black out as they last half an hour plus in length. The new relationship took me to the emergency room on one such occasion.

Once there I was thrown into a series of tests and exams, and I was there for 4 hours. They had found a huge mass in my reproductive organs, though they couldn’t tell where it was actually attached to, nor what it could be. I was told then to go the very next morning to have an MRI done, where they could see better what was going on. I was discharged, and quickly made my way from one end of town to the other where my daughter had a parent teacher conference I had to be at. While in the conference I started to get very sick again, the pains returned worse than before, and this time while I was getting sick there was blood. It may not be as much blood as I think now there was, but at the time it seemed to be everywhere. On the floor in a tiny grade school stall I sat puking, unable to stop, only seeing red. I was helped out of the restroom and taken straight back to the hospital where my mother and daughter met me.

The doctor I had just seen in the emergency room the first time was still on duty. I literally had been gone not even an hour at the point of being rushed into the emergency room for a second time that day. Instead of reassessing my case, I was told I would be going to the “big hospital”, straight to Riverside in Columbus. There were no ifs, ands, or buts, and there was no way I could refuse. My mother was going to keep my kiddo, as it was a school day, so she wouldn’t miss school, my other half at the time would follow the ambulance that was taking me, and I would know more in about an hour and a half. The only thing I can remember aside from the pain and the puking was looking out of the back of the ambulance and watching the truck that followed us there. I may have blacked out from pain a couple of times, because the ride literally seemed to only take 15 minutes tops.

Once in Columbus I was taken straight to a room in their emergency room. My chart was handed over, along with the chart from the first ER visit that day. I remember at some point my Aunt came in, who resides in Columbus, and there was a lot of talk. From the ER I was taken and put through another cat scan, more xrays, a ton of blood work, a urine test, and I can’t even tell you what all. It was deemed to admit me, put me in a room and have an MRI first thing in the morning. Well the next morning turned into being in the hospital the entire weekend and having an MRI first thing Monday morning. I found out then from an OBGYN and Oncologist that the “mass” was attached to my ovary, though could also be attached to other parts as well. Even with the MRI they couldn’t tell exactly and wouldn’t be able to know until I had surgery. That started a series of more tests, and treatments, and eventually a surgery when there weren’t other options. I was told I have ovarian cancer.

I started with hormone treatments until I could be cleared for surgery which would take a month and a half. It was the ideal theory that the mass could be taken care of with the hormones and medications, and I wouldn’t even need to have a surgery. They thought it was early enough that I could be fixed that way, and I wouldn’t have to worry about being a cancer patient. That dream was short lived. In a month and a half I spent more time in the hospital than I had in years, even all my years as a child and teen combined. The news came back surgery was the only option. I scheduled my surgery, the other half took time off of work to be by my side, and arrangements were made for my kiddo. I didn’t want her missing school just because I had cancer. I wouldn’t allow her to sacrifice time for her education for time by her mother’s bedside.

I went to the hospital the morning of my surgery. My other half, my mother, my daughter, my aunt, and my grandmother by my side. I remember hugging my daughter like it was the last time I’d hug her, and being so scared that I’d never get to see her grow up. A fear that I’d never really thought I would have to deal with in my life, especially not before I was even 30 years old. I was 28, I was in my prime, and even though I’d been through hell before, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to be looking at losing my LIFE before even having a chance to live it! To be 28 years old and lose the ability for my daughter to have a brother or sister, to not have the things that a WOMAN HAS. I was checked into the hospital again, this time to save my life so that I could watch her grow up, and be there the way that my mother had been there for me. I was taken back to be put through everything I needed to do for surgery, and because of the restrictions that were in place when on the surgical floor, my daughter was not permitted to be with me. She was left to wait in the waiting room with the rest of my family. I remember cleaning off with the antibacterial wipes, and shaking from being cold and literally so afraid I couldn’t stop shivering and shaking.

One of the nurses let my daughter up to see me right before they came to get me for surgery. I told her I loved her, and I would be back as quickly as I possibly could be. I told her that I loved her unlike I’ve ever loved another human being, and that she was and is the best thing to EVER happen in this meager thing I call a life. That she alone is the sun that shines and warms my skin each and every day, and the reason I breathe. She kissed my forehead, I said my goodbyes, and was taken into the operating room tears streaming down my face.

Up until this point I had fought to keep the right to have a child. No that’s wrong, it isn’t a right. It is a privilege, an honor, a gift to have a child. I had fought to keep living my life on MY TERMS. I wasn’t going to lay down and submit to the bullshit that is cancer, I wasn’t going to then, and I still am not going to now. My doctors knew that the only things to be taken from me were what I had consented to, and I DID want to have more children in the future. I don’t remember how long surgery took, I don’t remember the doctors or nurses trying to calm me down as I was slipping away. I remember my Great Grandfather, the reason I wanted to die so many years ago telling me it was okay, and that I was loved and needed in the world. I remember the Gods blessing me and giving me the chance to talk to him, and while it seems crazy it wasn’t my mind just making it up as I was under and they were cutting away at me.

I was brought back to the world of the living, and told surgery was a success. The tumor mass that weighted about 10 pounds was taken off my left ovary, though they couldn’t save the ovary or my Fallopian tube. Thankfully it was not attached to the cervix or uterus and while it might be harder to conceive a child, I could still completely do so. The cells in the tumor were also found in my appendix so it was also removed, so I wouldn’t have a cancer spread. However, there was a small issue with the surgery, or what was found in the surgery. When they tested the cells of the tumor there was cancer found, but there were also fetal cells. They think that the tumor started as a twin to what would have been my daughter’s twin. I went through a wide range of emotions thanks to that bit of knowledge.

After surgery I kept up with medications and treatments. It seemed like I would feel fine and my numbers would be up and then without warning they would be all thrown off again, and I would have to go back on treatments. This has been my life just with the normal life added factors. There’s work and a relationship gone, there’s my daughter and her health issues. I’ve been through treatment and hell, but I’m still here. Now after all this fighting I’m looking at the point of having to go through all of this all over again. To lose every bit of femininity I have left and to lose the ability to bring life into the world. Granted, I’m not in a position to do that currently, but I like having the option. I like knowing that if I would meet someone I want to have a family with, there is the option of doing that.

So yes, I’m a bitch. I’m a cunt, and I am cruel and mean and so many things that some of you think about me. I am human. I am a fighter, and if you were dealing with cancer you might be all of those things too, and then some other things. So why did I hide all of this? I don’t want you to feel bad for calling me out when I’m a bitch. I don’t want you to feel bad or take pitty on me that you don’t like me. I don’t want you to pretend that you’re my friend because “oh God she has cancer”. I don’t want to be that girl with cancer, I don’t want to be that friend you pitty and check up on because you might feel bad you didn’t take the time to get to know ME and I died on you. Yes, I have cancer but having cancer has made me see some things about the world… things that I love and things I loathe. It’s not on me that you don’t want to get to know me, or you think that because you’ve heard something that it’s true. If you want to believe that then that’s great! Go for it!! I’m not the one missing out, but you just might be. Because I’ve kicked cancer’s ass once, and I’ll do it again, and keep the ability and gift of being able to bring life into the world.

I guess that’s all. It’s been hell, and it’s going to probably keep being hell. Writing this has shown me that there are still tears and emotions that I have to work through. That it is STILL hell, even after the time that has passed. I’ll deal with it and move on with my life. But next time I say I don’t want to talk, or it feels like I’m hiding something. It could very much be something to do with this. I’ll get around to letting you in, to telling you, and the point that will happen is when I’ve processed, digested, and when I am ready to. Thanks for listening, and sorry it was so long.

I’m Not Real??

So lately I’ve been talking to this “dom”. I say it that way for various reasons, and they will become clear as I write this. So just bear with me. Now we have only talked because he lives out of state, but he does travel quite a bit, which also brings him to Ohio through the year. So I decided ok, give it a chance and see what might happen.

Red Flag One: He’s married, and his wife doesn’t know. I was called out on the fact I felt uneasy with this because I had told him before I’d slept with married men. One of my play partners IS a married man, however he is poly and I’m pretty sure his wife AND girlfriend know he’s doing whatever and that he comes over.

Red Flag Two: When I started talking to him it was under the premise that he would be submissive and I Domme roles. To which he’s very quickly reversed around since he found out more about my different sides.

Red Flag Three: Today I get an email demanding a task from me, and asked about anal and fisting. Now I have NEVER done fisting, as I like to stay pretty tight. I take pride in that. Sorry, just not going to happen. I also haven’t done anal since I had to go through my cancer surgery. Mostly because when I do I tense up and get these horrid pains that cause me to black out. So I tell him no fisting, and I don’t do anal anymore for health/safety reasons.

So he replies that perhaps I’m not kinky enough for him. To which I calmly replied that being kinky enough isn’t the issue. The issue is I will not EVER risk my health and safety for anyone. My limits are mine, and mine alone. If that’s an issue perhaps we shouldn’t bother to meet up when he’ll be in town this coming week. I get ANOTHER email back from him after this, saying that real subs have no limits. I promptly told him to just fuck right the hell off.

I seriously thought we were over the era of creepy dom and all the bullshit that he has to offer, though it seems I have been mistaken. Then I had another thought…. what about the submissives, male and female, that don’t know how to deal with creepy dom or his counterpart creepy domme? It makes me really sad honestly.

Then there’s another part to all of this. I know damn well WHO and WHAT I am. I am Luci Snow, and I AM a switch. I have countless amounts of fun as both a Domme, and a submissive. I also happen to be a little girl and a middle. These things I would not trade for the world! I am deserving of amazing things, and no way in hell is something amazing going to ask me to drop my limits or compromise my health, safety, or my well being. I am better than that.

Why I’m going Viking – and why you should too

I really enjoyed this article, and I think you all might just like it too!!

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Source: Why I’m going Viking – and why you should too

A Fantasy of a Dream

This morning I woke up, desperately trying to get back to sleep. The dream I had been having came to an end all too soon, and it was so vivid I woke up feeling the sensations of each and every aspect.


He sent a text with an address, telling me to meet him there and I smiled typing it into my GPS. I knew the area of town, but not the actual place I was going. I pulled into the parking lot and checked my makeup, another text came in “when you  come in tell them you’re with Team Darren”. I tilted my head, his name was Mike, why go with Team Darren? I shrugged and went into the building.

Inside it was almost dark, I had to let my eyes adjust. My heels clicked against the cobbled stones in the entrance hall, my fingers dragging against the harsh brick of the wall. I was almost floating with excitement towards the dim lights. I stopped and smiled telling the host who I was there for, and then followed as I was lead to my date. He looked amazing in a casual business type of outfit. His shirt was a soft blue, his pants  black, and every detail completely perfect. I smiled again, blushing even as the smell of the jazz club started to float into my senses. The dim light had a warm glow about it that almost kissed my skin, adding to the excitement, the smells of lavender, jasmine, and liquor came to me in a mix of desire, passion, and lust. There was a band on a stage in the corner, the sounds of the sax slowly making its  way up my spine and tickling my ears softly, seeping into my body, making my hips slowly sway as I walk.

He smiles, standing to kiss me, and offering me a seat at our table. The chairs are raised up and swivel around, this makes the little in me giggle with ideas of dangling toes and childish games, but there is no little, at least not for now. Tonight is all about the bigs, and the things we will do together. Mike orders me a drink and the host rushes off leaving us alone. He asks if I found the place alright, and I nod still looking around trying to take it all in. This is NOT what I expected to say the least. As we make small talk and sip our drinks I notice that the walls are a wooden beige color with wooden accent pieces stained a cherry oak, the contrast making a flair of statement along  with the added golden metal pieces that adorned the walls. The over all feel and look of the space adding a classy feel to the soulful club. Looking up I realize the ceiling is a rafter ceiling, also the stained cherry oak, with sheer golden fabric hanging down, the glow of light catching it in all the right places. He went all out for me tonight, and I purr turning my attention back to him.

We talk, and decide to unplug completely from the outside world after a photo together. I spin my chair a bit closer to him, our faces only inches from touching, I can smell him. He smells divine and it’s intoxicating; for a moment I feel his lips almost brush against mine, but no, not yet. He pulls me closer, my legs drape over his. He rests his hand on my knee and strokes slowly, my body feels like it’s on fire. A fire spreading from his fingertips over every single part of me. It branches out from his touch, and his touch alone can put that fire to rest. The seduction he’s planned out tonight, has ripped over every inch of me, and we snap the photo. With the photo goes away any contact from the outside world, and we start to explore the adventure of one another, the people in the club slowly fading away until it is just he and I. We become high on each other, the music pushing and pulling us closer together, our bodies entwining, no fusing together.

A song starts to play, and he smiles kissing me. His lips, oh his lips taste like cherries and Gran Patron, completely erasing any doubt in my  mind  about him. His arm wrapped around my waist and he led me to the dance floor then took me against him. He held me in ways I didn’t know were possible, his finger tips lightly kissing my skin as he led me around the floor.


And then I woke up. It was so real, like we were there…. and I sighed wishing it wasn’t a dream, and I could go back and live in that moment forever.

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