Saga 238 ~ I’ll B Writing, Virgil~

I’m a writer. That’s starting to become a lie. Now “I’m a Slave 4 U.” It’s not like Britney wrote that. And it takes much worse to turn me on. And why do I need that? I should be writing since Virgil got in trouble last night. I’ll Be Writing, Virgil

Friday, February 24, 2023

Saga 238 ~ I’ll B Writing, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but not for writing. Not today. But as they say, brevity is the soul of wit.

I’ve gotten more mileage from the words “Braxton is dead” than anything else. To exploit my boy like that? Never. And I’m not trying to start something. I’m not Sophia. Only if you’re wondering where I’ve been. I wish I could say it was all cute dogs and such. Hell! I need them considering my day often starts off in tears. But reasons may vary. Dog memes, voiceovers, and I wish I could say books. I am rather enjoying “NSFW: A Novel.” Of course, you know why that is… Virgil is making that easier. Punishment. Today or rather last night, is the first time I had to place him in time-out. Peed on the floor. Anyway, I was able to read in peace. Not really.

And that’s because I’ll always miss Braxton. But as the book implies. NSFW, Lady Sophia. I still get off on horror stories concerning women. Why did I join Court’s Patreon? Yesterday I read about how the boss got that girl to take all her clothes off in a “trust exercise.” And the narrator was fingered by that guy Julian. Digital Penetration? I mean the way some things get described. And again, there’s courtwithconfidence. I swear, she told her true story, and all I wanted was to see her naked. How much was that, hmm? Oh, and what? I want to spend money on Johnny Sins videos. Him talking about sleeping with a former teacher of his. Wow! So few words, and I’m here banging away.

On the keyboard and not the bed. The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident of January 11, 2022. The Cherry Collision on February 16, 2023? I thought about going to the doctor. Please. I woke up too late, which means… well, not a damn thing. But I don’t want to go. I have way too much writing to do anyway. The question remains, what gets done today. I have to text my old man about what the termite guy said. After my humiliating showing at my granddaddy’s funeral. I’m thirty-eight, Lady Sophia. Sad writing it again. There’s working on the cash—three groups of three hundred, then a hundred for me. A grocery list, promises I won’t keep, you, the other girls, Braxton. I’ll Be Writing, Virgil

754 Days Without B III, Day 195 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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