Since being kicked out of the Playboy Mansion or whatever the fuck happened to Kendra Wilkinson now that Hef’s other girlfriends/live-in prostitutes who are a little more enterprising than the prostitutes I get with or have gotten with, not that I’m the kind of guy who would pay for sex, well actually I am, but have no money and that’s got nothing to do with this post what I am trying to say is that this Kendra Wilkison bitch doesn’t need Hef’s payroll to make her a whore, she’s doing an great job of it since she’s broken free from that polygamous sex cult that is the Playboy Mansion and here she is in Vegas enjoyin the single life from this past weekend with some other whore named Bridget who I’ve never heard of.

I hate fucking golf. It reminds me of Junior executives trying to be big shots and white people. It also reminds me of work because for a summer I used to be the groundskeeper on some stuffy waspy golf course where assholes would ask me to get them towels or complain to my boss about how the green wasn’t maintained and shit like that. It made me have a serious hatred for people with money who lack any flavor. They all dressed like the same clowns, they all said the same boring racist and sex jokes and they all bored me even from a fuckin’ distance and that’s when I decided that I will never have a real job in an office, I will never take up the sport and even when you throw some tacky Playboy bitch and her panties into the mix, I still think Golf fucking sucks.

Here’s some Kendra Wilkinson drunk with a pair of Lakers Underwear on her head, because when you are a slut and you love a team and support a team, you keep their logo next to your used up weathered pussy because it’s the only way to show your affection to that team other than offering the team a chance to get whatever diseases you’re packing but they turn you down because you aren’t hot and there are better groupies to be had, I guess it’s just not like it was in highschool for her.

Either way, I have had a few drunken experiences with panties that range from sniffing them, to taking them off passed out girls, to having sex with them when they were sitting in a laundry pile, to wearing them but for some reason no one gave a shit enough about me to take pictures and document the moment like they did for this whore.

Recap: Old client WR flew me to LA for his 50th to nail me for cash. WR puts me up in a hotel, which is weird since I slept over in my hooker days. He hurriedly shows me his Brentwood estate, avoiding the bedroom. I ask for a glass of water. Maybe we can do a quick slam over the breakfast table? My gift to him: I’m generous like that. I hop up on the kitchen counter, flashing some panty. WR keeps his distance. I notice a pad by the phone with a number and a restaurant scribbled in frilly female writing (?).

I’m not invited to the birthday bash, but he’ll pick me up later… It’s 3:30 am and he’s finally fucking me bent over the rail of his boat in Marina del Rey. I’m staring into the dark water while he pinches my nipples. Realization: I am a kept woman. I am not in control. I cut him off, grab his balls and confront… Cunt is dating a gold-digger bent on killing my plan of him dying childless/ alone from his cholesterol issue. I don’t want to marry the douche, I just want to be the hot piece he remembers while writing his will in between strokes.

I squeeze his balls harder, angry: the contact we kept over the years was a waste. He’s not the lonely twat I knew. He’s about to nest. I’m the lonely one now, making out in bars with guys who buy me drinks. I hate him… So I push him to the deck and savagely bone him in ways his new princess never will… I come hard and he pinches a nerve in his back… In the car, he tells me I can have the weekend off, but to be on call Monday night. So I went to San Diego and did the only thing a kept woman at the end of the line can do: spend the weekend slut’n it up in a bar.

Here is Kendra Wilkinson slut’n it up in a bar in Chicago Friday night because she is a kept woman playing second fiddle to Hef’s obvious favorite girlfriend, Holly Madison. Like mine, her days are numbered. I feel her pain. Not really. She is busted in the face and dumber than dirt.

Obediently yours,
Sugar Nell (ex-hooker, friend of Jesus)

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