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Supply closet (00000108)
2.9/5 (195 Votes)
When I was in the 5th grade, I got picked to help out in the office at lunch every other week. I sorted papers and gave ice to kids with injuries and all that helpful stuff that only a 12-year-old can do. In the office there was this huge supply closet. Now when I say huge, I mean that in every sense of the word. Everything you could ever need was in that closet. Everything. Sadly, and complying with all the rules of things one really wants, I wasn't allowed to have any of this stuff. All those wonderful fine-tipped markers, sticky tack, tape, erasers and so on.

I would never be allowed to take it for myself. One night as I was lying in my bed and fuming at the unfairness of all the stuff I would never be able to use, I had a wonderful idea. The next day when I went to school, I wore a large, baggie hoodie with a really big front pocket. When there was a brief lull in activity, I went in the supply closet, claiming I was cold. This was a valid reason to go in there and close the door because for some reason it was always sweltering in the room regardless of the temperature in the office. Once inside, I put as much stuff in my pocket as I could without it being noticeable. From there, I would just take it home with me.

I repeated this every day until I had at least one of everything, even the things I didn't need. When my friends found out, I ended up getting a menagerie of things for them, too. This continued for pretty much the entire year. No one ever found out about it, but the secretary did mention once that she had no idea where all the tape went. She thinks I was laughing at the funny little mystery that had presented itself. That couldn't have been farther than the truth. I love getting away with things.

Posted on 09.07.2011, 01:43:45 CET
Place: Roseville, MI
Murder he wrote (00000391)
2.8/5 (77 Votes)
Well, I was driving down the highway, when I got this voice mail from my girlfriend. I checked it, and it seemed as if she had accidentally dialed it. I heard her cheating on me with another man, and it filled me with rage to the point of no return. I couldn't help it. I went all the way from my business meeting in Louisville, Kentucky then all the way back to Little Rock, Arkansas, and I went berzerk. I flipped out on her, and I was yelling at her, cussing from the top of my lungs for her to die. She yelled at me saying I didn't love her as much or that I "Wasn't the same" anymore. I lost my mind. I looked her in the eyes and I said if I couldn't have her, nobody could. That night I drove back to her apartment and I broke in through the window. I climbed in as stealthily as I could, trying not to make a single sound, a sharpened knife in one hand, a gag in the other. I went and snuck into her room ever so slightly, and I held my hand over her mouth. She couldn't scream, and all I kept saying was, "I told you nobody else could have you." She whimpered as I held her so close to me. I put the gag in her mouth to make sure she shut up. Then I had the knife in my back pocket, making sure she couldn't reach it. I then pulled every piece of clothing off of her body and I then touched her in every way possible. I raped her, and I was feeling great about it. I hurt her and it pleased me. I then finished after 4 hours, bruises were creeping up her body, she was crying, and I licked the tears off of her face because I loved the taste of her fear. I enjoyed it. I then finally pulled out my knife and twiddled it between my index finger and my thumb, humming the tune that we danced to on our first date. She was still weeping so softly. I loved every succulent moment of it. I had such an adrenaline rush! I then wiped it very gently across her neck, and then I said, "Remember, I'm only doing this because I loved you when the feeling wasn't mutual." I then dug the knife deep into her skin, watching the blood drip down her body, loving every minute of it. I then dug deeper, hearing her gasps for breath, hearing the blood spurting out of her trachea, loving how she still could not scream, even if she wanted to. After about four or five minutes, she was dead. Her pulse had gone, and so had our love. But that was gone sooner. I then went back into her kitchen, and pulled out a big plastic trash bag. I put her body in it, and I dragged it down the stairs back to my car, making sure no one had seen what I had done. I then put her in my trunk, and I got in the car and drove away, speeding a little. I felt it. The rush. The power. I realized what I had done, and I could not take it back. I went and I got some bricks and some rope and tied it to the trash bag, then wrapped it with a heavier cloth bag, and I took her out onto a lake. I threw her into the lake, watching the air bubbles seeping through the seams of the bags, watching her float further and further down until the bag was a faded memory just like she was. I then drove back to my place, I didn't even care that there was blood in the back of my brand new Lincoln. I then pulled into my driveway, and I went back into my house and sat there. And sat there. And sat there. That was 12 years ago, and now she's gone. My sweet Susie is gone. All because of one mistake she made. All because of the main mistake I had made. I am glad I am forgiven for this, because it gives me hope that people will accept me, even knowing how much of a monster I was. Thank you all for this. I will never do that again...

Posted on 27.04.2013, 16:30:07 CET
Life is full of choices (00000421)
2.9/5 (50 Votes)
As a fetish, what I actually do several times in a week is, I like to dress in women's clothing, masturbate, and play with anal toys. I often fantasize about sex with black men when I do this. I become submissive, and usually get an orgasm whenever I get the chance which I apparently find hot, and sexy.

Posted on 07.05.2013, 05:23:00 CET
Pins and needles (00000251)
2.9/5 (38 Votes)
My cousin and I with our boyfriends had set up a party at home. When she and her boyfriend got drunk beyond comprehension, that they were getting ready to have some fun, her boyfriend went to the restroom leaving his phone, and wallet on the coffee table, she went to the bedroom, presumably to get "ready" she too had left her phone on the table. I proceeded to search through each. His phone was empty, and a condom in his wallet. Texts between my cousin and her best friends talking about how I'm a whore and such. My boyfriend had leg by that time, so there was no one to stop me from what was about to happen. I took the safety pin that held the cover to the couch on and made several, fairly large holes in the condom. My cousin is now currently pregnant.

Posted on 31.01.2013, 03:06:28 CET

Dazed and Confused (00000388)
2.5/5 (84 Votes)
About a year ago I threw a party at my house. Unfortunately, because I unexpectedly had to cover for a colleague the next morning, I didn't drink much, whereas some people had clearly decided that the house plants should be watered with the contents of their stomach. I could never stand the above mentioned guest. He was so drunk that he staggered towards be and almost shouted at me, asking if I had some grass somewhere, because he needed some, he would pay me for it too. Since I have never taken drugs I didn't have any. However an idea quickly came to me. I went into the kitchen and grabbed some leftovers from yesterday evening (broccoli), and cut a piece into very small bits. I then took some of it and put it in a zip-lock bag. Now I am 25 Euros richer, and since then I have to laugh whenever I see him. What happened to the package, I sadly don't know. However I never told him. Only a few friends are in on the know and they also always laugh whenever they see him or whenever we talk about it.

Posted on 25.04.2013, 01:59:58 CET

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