I am married for the third time now. Most who know me know of my second marriage. The relationship lasted from March of 2011 until May of 2015 when my sweet husband choked me in the middle of the night, with our son in the bed, after breaking into our own home… all fueled by the booze. It took me from December 2015 when I filed my first attempt at a divorce until the judge signed the marital disillusion agreement in April 2018. One day I can get into the three possible ways I discovered one could file for divorce along with how it felt living under a rock, while your obsessed, substance abusing, narcissistic, federal agent soon to be ex husband had you followed and under a microscope.
Wait… typing that out really brings to light the similarities in the attempt to leave my ex husband and the attempt to break things off with The Doctor. Hm…
There are only a few people who know of the first time I was married. Outside of the shock value and the make for a great story, the marriage wasn’t really a marriage at all.
I was 21 at the time. I was working in the adult film industry at the time, which made for any adult work to be easily accessible for me. I was connected with an agency that so many porn women used. It was an agency that essentially made arrangements for you. Similar to arrangements I educated you all in from the site SeekingArrangement.com, but a lot less bull shit talk in between. This agency arranged for willing participants, usually only adult film stars and wealthy men to come together… or should I say cum together? I had two successful friends I made through this agency. One was a wealthy financial investor who would fly me to New York, San Francisco, Miami or anywhere else he may have been for that trip. He preferred pigtails and watching my porn in the television while I took loads of his cum up my ass. The other was an interesting man. Now you can’t make up the details that follow, but I promise you’re these are all true. First, be amazed…he owned an octopus. Not as exciting as you were hoping for? Really? He had a pet octopus you guys! That’s fucking amazing. The other fact about him was that his career was as a relationship coach. Yep. Here he was paying thousands and thousands of dollars for “GFE” with me (that’s Girlfriend Experience in case you wondered. Not sure why the acronym has a capital F considering girlfriend is one word, but I am not English major so what do I know at all). This man had actually appeared on Dr. Phil with his techniques and advice on how socially awkward men could find love, or at least get laid. He never once mentioned “pay for it” in the episode he appeared in. Just saying.
Okay, okay. I am getting off the topic.
I had flown into a tiny airport outside of the heart of Los Angeles. It was in the luggage retrieval area of this airport that I met the man that would become my husband. I was there on business; I was there to company with the relationship expert for the night. While I waited for my bag to circle around the belt, two men in their late 20’s or maybe early 30’s found themselves standing next to me. I can’t remember exactly what their attempt at small talk was, but I knew what they were doing. In a matter of the few moments this was all unfolding, and me watching for my luggage, my future husband had purchased me 12 roses from the vending machine there in the waiting area. He made lightly of them and I remember giggling as he handed them to me. I was first amazed they sold roses in a vending machine and second was surprised at how utterly cheesy it was that he has gotten these for me, in front of me and from a vending machine. Lol.
I giggle now going back to that day.
I exchanged my number with the two of them, in particular with the man who became my husband. His name was Jason. I let him know I was staying at a hotel near by, The Hollywood Roosevelt.
We parted ways, Jason’s number in my phone and my number in his. We “planned” to hang out while I was in town, but really I never imagined anything coming of it.
The chauffeur was waiting for me outside of baggage claim. It was about a 45 minute drive to The Roosevelt. It was an amazing hotel, filled with character and history. It was extremely upscale and the decor made me feel as if I was in a different era. I checked in, received my key and made it to my room. When I opened the door I could smell the scent of flowers. There, in my room were two dozen long stem roses! When I say long stem, I mean 2′ or more in height. They were beautiful. Unlike any flowers I had ever seen, let alone received. I read the note and it was signed from both Jason from the airport, but the friend he was with too.
I met my “friend” that flew me there in the first place that night; we went to bars he thought were impressive, he over paid for sushi, and I listened to all his accomplishments in life. I fucked him and got fucked until I was sore in the same room as his pet octopus.
The next day I took a taxi to deep LA to work. It was my one weekend that I worked and shot for barbcummings.com
Those trips always went quickly. I fucked at least six black men that weekend. I spoke to Jason from the luggage area of the airport the entire weekend. He proposed instead of flying home that Sunday, I extend my flight and stay to have some fun with him. Him and his friend.
I did just that.
They took me in their brand new Porsche to a boutique off of Sunset Blvd and bought me dresses that cost more then I would ever consider acceptable.
We stayed at the Standard hotel in Hollywood. It was the first and only time that room service delivered McDonald’s. I wanted a double cheeseburger one morning for a sick hang over and that’s what I got. Over the next five days I lived at this hotel, wore expensive boutique clothing, and fucked both Jason and his friend at their request. I fucked them together. I let them take turns, as if tagging one another in to fuck each hole I had. We had sex in the shower, on the balcony, in the bathrooms at clubs, in the back seats of limousines and anywhere else. Each one was allowed, at any time to ask me to do anything… bend over and spread my cunt to take their load, drop to my knees and gag on their dicks until all my mascara ran off; whatever they desired.
It was the only time I have ever had someone piss inside me. As I rode the dick of Jason on the balcony he said he needed to take a break to piss. I refused to move. I refused to get off of him. I begged him to piss inside me. He fulfilled my request. I continued to pound my pussy against his pelvis as I felt his hot piss fill me and then drain out of me from either side.
We were in love.
The last day, we ended up back Jason’s friends home (I still don’t remember this mans name). It was a house as big as the mansions used to shoot porn in. Of course this man lived there alone. It was there we had a sick party, with way too much alcohol and even more drugs present. I was rotated like a bench press at the gym. Some of the men there wanted to fuck me in private, would take me in a room and have me to themselves. Others enjoyed the power they must have felt whipping their dick out in front of his bros, for me to obey and suck him off right there at the side of the pool. I had trains ran on me; I bent over an office desk in one of the many rooms and one by one the guys would come in, use my ass or pussy, and then leave. It was at least 12 men total but maybe more during that incident.
It was last minute again, Jason asked me to postpone my flight. I did that. On all kinds of substances he did the most romantic thing most women long for, he proposed. He proposed we take a red eye to Vegas and get married.
It was close to 11pm when we obtained our marriage license in Clark county Nevada. It was about midnight that I said “I do” in the back seat of a town car, in a drive through. The man marrying us through the window was dressed as Elvis. The car driver was our witness. I was fucking married. To a stranger.
I was fucked senseless one more night before returning home to Knoxville Tennessee.
I came home alone of course. There was an attempt the following week for Jason and his friend to make a visit to me in my home town. It was a mess. They didn’t fit in, they did way too much dope and in no way wanted to live a life outside of what we had done for a week in Hollywood.
And please don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect any less. I eventually got a divorce by default and was never able to make contact with Jason Roy Nurse again, from Oakland, CA.
I have to add, I married for a second time after that and expected it to be more fulfilling. If anything it was just more traumatic, just in different ways.
I am married now to the man of my dreams. A man who loves me for every slutty detail about me.
We live and learn. Here’s just one of my stories, I can’t wait to share so many more.