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)

EMAIL ME HERE

A couple months ago I was crashing on my friend’s couch along with her at her mom’s apartment. Every morning we would take the dogs out to the park to pee and hump each other (the dogs, not us). One morning we noticed a homeless dude passed out in the bushes. One of the dogs ran off, and when it came back, it was covered in hot, wet homeless shit. We freak out. The other dog starts going nuts and fucking this human shit-covered dog. We call her mom and she says to take them to Petco (I was thinking bullets were a better idea).

We leash the bitches up (they are lesbian dogs) and start the 12 block treck to Petco. It’s morning rush hour, the sidewalks are packed, and our two human-diarrhea dogs are rubbing up against people on their way to work. We get to Petco, and the groomer was like, “Holy fuck.”

Two hours later the dogs came back with ribbons and smelling like roses. You know what probably doesn’t smell like roses? Former playmate Kathy Lloyd’s pussy now. These are some old naked picks of her from, Hell, i dunno, the ’80s? ’90s? She probably has peices of Heffner all stuck and rotting up in her vagina. But she was naked then, so I present her to you now. Go masterbate.

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

EMAIL ME HERE