Long post as requested in another thread: NSFW

Coach · Wed Aug 19, 2009 5:00 am

Disclaimer: This story is NOT SAFE FOR WORK as it contains cursing and other things that may not be suitable for douchebag pussies at your work.

This is the story that some of you asked for in a different thread. This is a "brief" of my life and how I came about to where I am now. Let the story begin: Oh, and I'll try to keep this entertaining so I don't get a bunch of TLDRs. (Though I know the majority of you will say, F*CK this, too long, (F*CK!)

Ok children, gather around. This is a community, this is also my story, from as young as I can remember to now, so pay attention.

I was born in Dallas, Texas. As far as I know, it was a normal pregnancy/birth. No abnormalities on my part. I was born in 1970, so, I have a chance that I was born of parents that were ingesting drugs left and right from the early 70's carried on from the late 60's. I have no clue, I never felt it. I was a baby. Or, better yet, I wasn't even born when they were ingesting all these drugs.

From what I remember as a kid, I remember living in a small town in Kermit, Texas. (Look it up on the map, you'll be able to see it's small.) When I was 5, my dad got killed there in a motorcycle accident. Oooo, father dies, big drama moment!

I didn't know the dude, really, what I do remember of him are small snippets of when he was alive to the point when he was dead. My brothers told me, at the time, that I didn't love him because I didn't cry or miss him. F*CK! I was 5! How am I suppose to remember someone I haven't even been able to make a bond with? F*CK!

Anyways, this dead dude was my real dad. I never really knew him because he died before I could remember anything substantial about him. All I knew was, he was my dad, and he died in 1976 and was born in 1944. Yeah, he died young. I have some pictures of him, it's a spitting image of me and my brother. My brother doesn't talk about him much. He remembers a little more than I did, he's older, but he never really talks about those times.

Another thing I know, my real dad got a divorce from my real mother sometime in 1972. My brother and I were awarded to my dad because, well, my real mom was a piece of dogshit and didn't deserve us. Can you imagine that? In the 70's, a man being awareded kids, through the court, over their mom? My mother must have been some piece of work in order to lose us to a dude, I swear to GOD! Because that kind of shit just didn't happen unless it was needed! F*CK!

During this time, I also inhereted two step-brothers. I'll go more into this later, but they were my step-brothers, not my real brothers. I hated them, both of them, from day one.

Ok, so my dad had custody when he died. It'd take a little bit of common sense to see where my brother and I would go after that. To our mother. Guess what? No, didn't happen. We both got awarded to our Step-Mother! Holy F*CK! Are you serious? To the Step-Mom? Yeah, that happened. Our biological mother was so unfit as a parent that we went to some strange woman that we had just recently met. Crazy? Yeah, it's crazy, I never got the full story...but I'll elaborate later.

My earliest memories of childhood are of me in Kermit, Texas. I'm pretty sure that my dad had died, and I was out in the backyard playing with some mother F*CKING matches. I was striking them, throwing them to the ground, then, nothing. Repeating the same action, nothing. So I went behing the fence, WHOA NELLY! A bunch of F*CKING weeds! YEAH! Strike, throw to ground, FIRE! F*CK YEAH! I had me a fire...then I ran, scared the shit outta me.

I ran to our babysitters house and sat there. I heard the firetrucks come, but didn't go back until later that evening. I didn't want to get into trouble, you see. Yeah, the fire was put out, didn't burn our house down, and they had blamed it on a little neighbor boy down the street. Why? Because I was with Betty, my babysitter! I got away with that one, F*CK yeah and F*CK you!

That was my earliest memory. I have a lot more, but they're kind of boring and redundant. Anywho, later, we moved out of there to go to Paradise, Texas. I'm not sure why, but we were living with my Step-Grandmother. We called her Mammaw. Mammaw had a good piece of land outside of Decatur, Texas that stretched for miles and miles. We use to hike out there, us boys, and pretend we were on a mother F*CKING adventure. My real brother and I use to be able to go out and have a fun time on the property, exploring the river, checking out dead trees and just things that little kids were suppose to do.

But...Oh, another drama part! The Step-Brothers had other things in mind. Oh yeah, this is where the shit hits the fan! Oh GOD! Instead of being able to enjoy our lives as little kids, we had to endure, not only daily ass beatings from our Step-Mother. No, I had to endure weekly dick sessions from my Step-Brothers.

Yeah, so there, at one time, I had a gay moment, (unwilling as it was) but wait, there's more! My older brother (my real brother) stood up for himself and told them to stop. I didn't, why? I didn't know the shit was wrong or fucked up at the time. I was only 6 or 7 years old! F*CK! I thought this was how things were suppose to work! OH GOD! NO!

Yeppers, needless to say, this continued to happen until I was 15 years old, before I got wise, had friends and finally found out: "Wait, I don't like penis! I like the vagina I got back when I was 12! WTF! You stop that Mister Step-Brother(s)!

Anyways, I got off on a tangent there, I'll get back to that in a bit, just keep reading. We lived in Paradise for a while then my Step-Mother got married. She got married to some dude named Digger, as I remember it. We then moved to Bridgeport, Texas. As I recall, I was in the second grade there. I really didn't fit in at all because I had come from two small towns that don't make up even 1/50th of the population of Bridgeport. (Bridgeport is just NE of Forth Worth, look it up on the map.) We lived in this 2 story house there, it was a cool house, I remember it vividly.

It was an upstairs/downstairs 3BR/2&1/2BR house. The living area was on the bottom with the 1/2 BR being downstairs. Upstairs had the 3 rooms and 2 full bathrooms. Now, why, would you ask, could I remember so vividly something from then? I'll tell you why: My mother had a F*CKING cleaning fetish. I remember scubbing the rings out of toilets upstairs and downstairs alike. I scrubbed and scrubbed like no other. I swear I've smelled more Comet than most of you have smelled pu$$y or even your own shit. I use to clean like a bitch in heat for her. That was her obsession. When I wasn't being fucked by my Step-Brothers, reading a book or going to school, I was cleaning!

So, mentioning those Step-Brothers, I shared a room with one, it was a 3 bedroom house. So, someone had to share with another brother. They split us up: Oldest and youngest in one room, my real brother shared a room with the other guy that was nearly the same age. I got the dude that was the worst of the two. Even though this dude had a little dick, I've had more pain in my ass than anyone should ever be exposed to, a real life pillow biter.

Kinda reminds me of that old Clint Eastwood movie, Heartbreak Ridge, except I've taken more dick, sucked more C*CK and taken more loads in my face than any of you will. <--Period. Sum it up? Yeah, I hope so. Maybe Angry Kitten will understand why I didn't hesitate to grab his dick that night at Adam's party now. Maybe...

Whoa! Off on a tangent again! F*CK! Anyways, we lived there for a while before my Step-Mom got divorced from that dude. Seems he didn't like dogs or something and poisoned our dog and they ended up divorcing over it. I really don't know, I'd have to ask my brother, but I don't wanna. Oh! By the way, that was when I saw Star Wars for the first time! F*CKIN' loved that movie! YEAH!~

Next up, just a few, short, months later came Richard. Richard was her new husband, yeah, she got married again. F*CK! Turned out this dude was a Johnny Cash/Merle Haggard loving prick who thought it was okay to beat on women. They were divorce really, really quick. Yet another father-like figure gone from my life, F*CK!

Up to this time, my Step-Mother had been married 8 times. I later came to find out that my real dad was #6. So, off to #9! We moved to Wink, Texas when I hit the 3rd grade, woo hoo! Just now to the 3rd mother F*CKIN' grade! YEAH! You wanted this story, didn't you?

We moved there because I had some rich uncles/aunts on MY side of the family who offered to help my Step-Mother out. This is something else that I didn't find out until later, but those AFRICAN AMERICANS are dead now and didn't leave me shit, so, F*CK em. Dead F*CKERS should have left me a little something, F*CK!

Plus! My Step-Mother met another dude, husband #9, and got married. He was actually a good dude. To this day, I can't say one thing bad about him except for the fact that he was blind to my Step-Mothers abuse and the idiocy of her real sons. He never fucked with me though, he was really good to my brother and I.

We got a house in Wink that use to be a nursing home. It had like 30 rooms and 6 bathrooms. It was insanely large. They walled off half of it and we lived in one half while the other half was used as storage. I only find this part of the story important because i use to climb over the tiles in the ceiling and explore the other half of the house. It was mainly bullshit files, but it was cool, at the time, checking all that stuff out.

Now, even though I had a room of my own, I still got nightly visits from my Step-Brothers. They'd do this and that and dilly this and that and blah, blah, blah. Things most people could only imagine in their heads. But, I still perservered, kinda. I was in the 3rd grade, in a new school and new enviroment. (AGAIN! F*CK!) In the 3rd grade is when I really started wondering, WTF?! I actually started to do poorly in school. I was failing subjects outright.

Now, I wasn't failing because I was dumb or stupid. I was failing from lack of sleep. My daily routine was this: Wake up at 6AM, set the table for breakfast. Eat breakfast. Help clear the table and wash dishes. Take a shower, get dressed and walk to school. Come home, clean the living room, dining room and kitchen. (From the lunch people had there) Set the table for dinner. (For all 6 of us) Eat dinner. Weed the flowerbeds and use hand clippers to clip the grass around the house. (Look em up on Google, they exist, damned cursed things!) At this point, around 8 or so, I was expected to do my homework then go to bed at 9.

Oh, really? No, homework didn't get done, hardly ever. I was usually too worried about what was going to happen to me that I never did my homework, then I didn't go to sleep until around 1 or 2 AM. THEN, when I did wake up in the morning, I'd try to rush to do my homework and if I didn't get it done in between tasks, I'd stop at this little abandoned house and try to finish it up there before I got to school! F*CK! Needless to say, I got a shit ton of F grades that year. I may have deserved a few of them, but mostly, I really didn't. I "COULD" do the work, if given the chance.

So, guess what? I had to repeat the 3rd F*CKING grade. THE THIRD GRADE!! What? You gotta be F*CKING shittin me! The third grade?>????>>??>> F*CK! Yep, did that. This cycle of bullshit and abuse continued until the oldest Step-Brother left the house when he was 18. I think that was in 1982, I was 11. The other Step-Brother did continue his abuse, but not as much as his older brother had, it was a relief to have at least one of them gone.

When that dude moves out, rebellion kicks in. I started sneaking out of the house and F*CKING around with girls all over Wink. I was getting pu$$y left and right. If you were a girl between the ages of 13-17 when I was 15, I was gonna F*CK you one way or the other. Also, I was a good looking kid and out to prove to myself that I loved pu$$y. Oh, but I'm a dumb F*CK. I can't just get the chicks without cars who DON'T drive by in the middle of the night and honk their mother F*CKING horns so the whole world can hear! NO! I have to actually find those C*CK loving bitches then sneak out with them!

Saying, "Ok, come by at 11am and I'll be waiting" isn't good enough, they have to honk and shit, F*CK! Needless to say, I'm designated as the "problem child" by the community of, not only my parents, but the deputy sheriff too. GOD! F*CK! I JUST WANTED TO GET LAID! F*CK!

Once I'm designated as the problem kid, oh, it's on! What do we do with this F*CKER? Hmm? Well, here's what they do: They have a place in Lubbock, Texas called Charter Plains. Ever heard of em? Yeah, that's where I went. Charter Plains. Now, the average stay at Charter Plains is about 3 months, or, if you're an addict, 120 days. They deal with the addicts and the head cases. It seems "I was a head case" at the time. Can anyone guess, just off the top of their heads how long I stayed there? Anyone? Well, while you sit there guessing, I'll tell you how that place was.

At first, it was a bit scary. I didn't know what to think. I was in an enviroment that was an institution. Wake up, do this, do this, do this, do this....Wait, then, I discovered, it wasn't so unlike living at home. Tasks were performed at certain times shit got done at certain times. You were either rewarded or punished, by points, on how well or how bad you did.

For example, if you woke up and made your bed, you got 2 points. Then, if you took your shower, brushed your teeth and put on clean clothes, you got 5 points. When you ate all of your breakfast, you got 2 more points. The day went on like that. Completing tasks earned your points. When you had enough points, you could spend them on things like the game room or TV time or pool time. However, when you were bad, you got points taken away. They punished you harder than they rewarded you.

Second example, and I can only explain the first infractions, of many, that I got while I was there. I was watching TV when some dude got up and said he wanted to change the channel. Everyone objected except me. We were room mates, so I was cool with going over and patting him on the shoulder and telling him, (something to the effect of) "Dude, just come sit down, they want to watch that, let's play some chess." Now, even though I had read the rule book of the facility, I didn't realize that, at no time, could you touch another person in the facility. They called it Physical Agression, I think. But it was bullshit, I got all the points I had earned during the entire day taken away, 60 mother F*CKING points. I was PISSED, F*CK! They had other rules about cursing and staff manipulation and other stuff, but the main rule that I broke was "Attention Seeking" imagine that?

Anyways, so I spent time there. I asked you earlier to guess how long I spent there. What did you guess? The answer is: 14 months. That's right, 1 year 2 months. I held the record for the longest time spent at Charter Plains. Why? Not because I "needed the help" or because I "was severely depressed" or any other bullshit reason. I spent that much time for one reason, and one reason only: My Step-Father had good insurance through Getty Oil Company. The insurance paid almost 100% of the cost for me to be there. The only thing they had to pay for was my clothing, which I really didn't get, I got hand me downs from my older brothers. So, in basically, Charter Plains was a babysitter that watched me 24/7 during that time. The staff actually wanted to keep me there, despite my behavioral drawbacks. When the insurance ran out, so did the desire to keep me in the facility, so I was discharged in February when I was 16 years old. For any of you trying to keeping track, that was in 1985.

Sixteen! Woo! F*CK yeah! I get to drive and ALL my brothers, real and step, are out of the house! YEAH!....No...wait. Remember, my Step-Mother is a workaholic? Yeah, guess who every mother F*CKING chore fell on when I got back to the house? Me. Yep, me. Now, you may say, awwww, poor you, you had to do chores, crai more pu$$y. Well, you may not say that if you knew all the F*CKING piece of shit chores I had to do every day 7 days a week, without fail and without excuse. In fact, the list is so F*CKING long, that I'd have to make another post, like this one, to explain all the chores I had to do from day to day.

Needless to say, I did them. I endured. I worked through all of it to become who I am today. Because of everything I endured when I was really young, I didn't listen to my Step-Parents/Brothers or my real brother. I got to the point that I really didn't give a F*CK about anyone or anything. One thing that Charter Plains taught me was this: Cope. I learned how to cope with any situation given to me. I could seriously say this: You could kill my wife or daughter, right in front of me, and I wouldn't rage. I'd shrug it off and chalk it off as another day spent in my life. I'm one of the most cold hearted people I know. The shit I've seen and done in my life have made up who I am today.

When I turned 17 years and 363 days old, I left my Step-Mother. I've seen that bitch twice since. The only time I plan on seeing her again is when she's dead, in the coffin. I haven't spoken to this dude: http://sex-offender.vsp.virginia.gov/so ... egId=14705 Since I was 16. I don't plan on it again. It's kind of a bittersweet justice that he got what he deserved and ended up in prison. I feel better about that now. I also haven't talked to my other step-brother since I was 17, on the track, in Wink. He went off to the Navy (A good place for that HOMOSEXUAL) and made his life from there. I do talk to my real brother still, he's a decent dude. He has his life and I have mine.

We rarely talk about what happened to us as kids, mainly because he knows it happened mostly to me. I don't have any regrets about it, he has a shit ton. That's the way it should be, I guess. The few times I've talked to him about it, he's expressed concern about his inability to do something about it. Nowadays, it'd be easy, like tell a teacher or preacher or coach. Back then, it would have been shrugged off mostly. So, I can't hold him responsible...

Alright, so I've gone this far and you've read this far, go get an apple and a drink as I give you the rest of what happens...Go on, take a break, F*CK!

I left a few days before my 18th birthday, as I said previously. I went to Virginia to follow a chick that I had met in Wink. Why? Well, at the time, she was my only escape, and I was glad I could leave the small town to move to the big city area of Washington DC. (The place I move to was about a 15 minute drive from Washington DC, depending on traffic, but still in Virginia)

At the time, I was living with my girlfriend and her parents. They were good people, they never judged me or put me down, they actually encouraged me. I continued high school there, making all 90% and above in my classes, as opposed to making (maybe) 70-80% in Wink. This was something I felt good about, but I soon realized that I was a day late and a dollar short on completing my high school education. Though I was doing well in my classes and got along well with my instructors, my advisor told me that I wouldn't be able to continue to be at school past 19. Since I'd be 20 by the time I graduated, I decided, F*CK it, drop out. F*CK you and you and you and all you mother F*CKERS that did this to me.

You see, not only did my Step-Mother hold me back in the third grade, she also held me back in the seventh grade, this put me two years behind everyone else. I don't know if I mentioned the 7th grade thing, but, in a nutshell, I made a 70 in Health, she held me back. Why? Because she figured if I stayed with her, she'd get the Social Security check of $665.00 each month till I was 20. I stole that dream from her, like a mother F*CKER, I stole that dream. I ended up getting those checks, me, not her. They ended up where they belonged. On a side note, she also held my real brother back in the 10th grade, and he graduated a year late as well...Think about it.

Anyways, I had a job at a gas station, working for $350.00 a week! F*CK YEAH! That was GOLD back then! I made that cash and the $665 a month from Social Security, I was rollin in the cash back in the day! That lasted until I fucked up and got married to that girlfriend that I followed up there. Yeah, shouldn't have done that, but I did. She wasn't pregnant, she didn't pressure me, I think we actually did it just to rebel against her parents wishes. If only I'd have known then what I know now, F*CK!

She, my ex-wife, was a good girl. We really got along well, we clicked, blah blah blah. One thing though: She was an Air Force brat. Her dad was a colonel in the Air Force and she had lived all across the world. I was a small time country boy and hadn't. She was, literally, a brat. She expected everything to be just so and everything should go a certain way. Didn't happen. Short of the long, we stayed married for 2 years, her parents bribed her with a car to divorce me, we had a kid during that time, I couldn't afford the child support and gave up the rights to her, she left me, with the kid to go live her life with her parents. Last I heard, she was married and making a good life for herself in Brownwood, Texas. My daughter, by her, is 18 now, haven't seen her since she was 2...Like I said, that's the short story of a 2 year marriage with her.

Eventually, I moved back to Kermit, Texas. Now, remember that babysitter I mentioned before? Betty? Well, she was still there, in Kermit. Her son actually took me in and helped me get work on a Drilling Rig. I needed that job! God! After losing the Social Security from getting married and leaving school, I needed an income of some sort. Well, guess what? Coach doesn't like hard mother F*CKING dick breaking ass licking work. Hard to imagine that? Eh? After a month of that I told them to F*CK OFF! It didn't take too many other (well paying) oilfield jobs for me to tell to F*CK off before I got blacklisted as a big, no wanting to work, dick. So, I couldn't find work, F*CK! The money was good, sometimes up to $27 an hour, but the shit they put you through is only fit for some people: Turns out, I'm not one of them.

Soooo, no work = no paycheck = no more living with the son of my childhood babysitter. I was only about a month from my 21st birthday, what happened next? Guess...GUESS AFRICAN AMERICAN! GUESS! No, really, I resulted to thievery. Yep, I turned into a F*CKING shoplifter! GOD! What'd I do? I'd steal smokes then sell em to the liquor store. I'd get 10 bucks a carton, and he'd take as many as I could deliver because he'd sell em tax free. However, every thief gets caught if they do it long enough, and I did. I got out of jail for thievery when I was just a few days shy of my 21st birthday. No money, no car, no girlfriend...well, no friends at all. I was fucked. Wondering, what should I do? Where the F*CK do I go? F*CK! F*CK F*CK!

I actually got my last paycheck on December 23rd from the previous drilling job I had, that was the day AFTER I got out of jail for that shit. It was a small check, it only had like 16 hours on it, but it was a fortune at the time. I spent 2 days in Kermit wandering around, dwindling down that cash I had until I only had about 15 bucks. Motel rooms are expensive, ya know. On my 21st Birthday, I had 15 bucks and no F*CKING place to go or see. It was December 26th, 1991. I remember it because I'd spent the entire day trying to leech a bed off of my "so called" friends only to find they didn't even have floor space for me. Desolate and in despair, I took my last 15 bucks and went to the local convenience store and bought a 12 pack of beer and some smokes. I spent the night that night in a F*CKING room that held a water heater for a motel in Kermit, Texas. Even though I couldn't reach my legs across the F*CKING room or even lay straight in there, it was warm and the outside air kept that 12 pack cold.

Oh, so you think it's over? No, it's not over, I'm 38, I've only told you up to the time I was 21. If you've read all this, get a life, F*CK. If you want to hear more of the story, I'll indulge, lemme know, but my life didn't even begin until I was 25 or so. I haven't even gotten to the point where I finally got to meet my mother, my real mother...but that's an entire different story all unto itself...

Forum rules

Long post as requested in another thread: NSFW

Who is online