IsabellaRose

space cowboy

clear liquid

pixelated image

reference table

comic strip

Marry for cuddles and orgasms

an old episode of Penn & Teller's Bullshit

drag race

predatory animals

mass marketing

police lights

northern exposure

unquenchable lust

Will you setup tents?

Are you starting an "Occupy Tunnel" movement?

tempting nymph

If I had to guess based on previous answers, I'd eventually get fucked.

Not guilty? I don't play many games anymore. The next person has downloaded erotica audiobooks and listened to them at work.

Can we move beyond the tunnel?

forest rangers

island resort

get some snacks to eat while we game

Shouldn't passage be free to all?

15 May 2024 I kissed a girl. Fuck. I kissed a girl. Mom and Dad, wedding's off. I'm a lesbian. fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK What am I going to do? The wedding is in three days THREE FUCKING DAYS and I kissed a girl I've known my whole life and it felt better than anything I've ever done with Liam. EVER. Just her lips... god. I am so fucked. It's just a thing. It's new, infatuation or something. It's me being nervous. cold feet. last minute jitters. How did this even happen? We were just talking, like always. Just talking and then kissing. I guess I should write it down so when Mom or Dad or Liam kills us both at least someone will know what happened. She was looking at me, and I don't know why I did it but I leaned across and just kissed her. No, back up. We were talking. The wedding. Plans, flowers. That's what it was. Mom had called with the five millionth thing I got wrong. Something about flowers and the centerpieces... fuck I don't even remember. It's so fucking unimportant. The whole damned wedding is just a show. His family expects this big production and Mom can't ever look like she's not in control of every goddam facet of my life. I was mad. I remember being angry with Mom. Shit, when am I ever NOT angry with Mom. She just... ugh. You'd think she was getting married, or being judged by my wedding. Well, with her friends, she probably is. Bunch of fake fucking bitches stabbing each other in the back as soon as one's not there. Those women are terrible. Yes, if I'm dead and you're reading this, that means you Camila. You lie and steal and I know you fucked Bob while Charlotte was out of town. EVERYONE KNOWS YOU AND BOB ARE FUCKING. Charlotte probably knows but you're all so fucking fake and full of shit that she won't admit to it because she's fucking that kid who mows her lawn. Jesus. He's nineteen, Charlotte, you fucking cradle robber. The whole lot of them are just a fucking reality show waiting to happen. Fuck them. And that's probably half of it, isn't it? I'm going to end up just like them, building a perfect little life from the big circus sideshow wedding to the fucking day they bury me beside my Wall Street husband in our matching caskets and headstones that don't say shit abut how miserable our lives really were. None of them are faithful, or even happy. They're all just a bunch of vindictive, petty monsters trying to outdo each other. Their daughters and daughters-in-law are the same. Fake smiling at each other while they secretly hate each other. And I'm going to be one of them. I'm going to join the ranks of the rich, never have to work, fake bitches with no real friends. That's going to be my life. Fucking horrible. But Elizabeth... she's not like them. She never has been. Her dad didn't start out like the rest of us, he earned his money. Started a business, made it big, moved into the rich neighborhood and started moving in our social circles. It must have been hell on them, all these bullshitters. But it never affected Elizabeth. She was always herself, always spoke her mind and her own opinions. She didn't just go along like everyone else. I think that's what made me want to hang out with her. She wasn't just another cookie cutter jello mold clone. She was herself. She was different. She challenged everything I knew. We hit it off. She was funny, made me laugh so much. We were best friends til college. Then we went our separate ways. I hadn't seen her for a couple years when I got engaged. But she came to be by my side. My maid of honor. She was there through all of it. And that night she just sat there looking perfect, no judgment, just honesty and friendship, and I kissed her. Wait, remember it all. This is important. Mom had called. Flowers. I got mad. Elizabeth said... what did she say, again? I had Mom on speaker, just answered quick and she started in with flowers are wrong and the centerpieces... what, some candle thing she wanted in the center of the flowers...? I don't even remember. I do remember the last thing she said. "I'll just do it myself then, darling, like I always do. You tried, but someone has to get things right. It's a wonder Liam ever proposed." And then hung up. No goodbye. No nothing. Just gone. I said to the phone, "I wish he hadn't." Elizabeth just looked at me. That look. She couldn't believe what I'd said. Neither could I, if I'm honest. I love Liam. I do. I mean. He's a great guy. Handsome. Smart. Charming. He's everything you could want in a husband. Stable. Rich. He's a good guy. He really is. A catch. but... Elizabeth said, "Well Mom's still a bitch." We both laughed. Then she got serious. "You know, if you don't want to get married, you don't have to." As if it were that easy. I was three days away from the culmination of a year-long engagement. You don't walk away from something like that. I was committed. "It's not that I don't want to..." How could I explain duty, commitment, familial obligation, to someone who'd never bowed down to those traditions in her entire life? "It sounds like you don't want to." She was so amazingly independent. I could never be like her. "I love Liam." "You can love him and not marry him." Matter of fact. She was always that blunt. "It's not that easy..." My tone told her she was right even if my words denied it. "It's exactly that easy. Call it off. If you doubt for a minute that this is the man for you, then call it off. Will people get mad? Sure. But they'll get over it." "You don't know my family." "I do. Your mother will be a bitch about it and make you feel like you ruined her life. Your father will... do what he always does. Go golfing, drink scotch, smoke those cigars." "I can't just..." Elizabeth had stared at me then. One finger under my chin to lift my face to hers. Her gaze was one of authoritative compassion. She was in charge, but she was empathetic, kind. When she spoke... "You will never make your mother happy. No matter what you do, no matter how much you try to change yourself, she will always tear you down. She always has. She is a narcissist. She has to tear you down, and she can't let you be happy, because the happier and stronger you are, the less hold she has over you, and the less she is able to shame you." Jesus. She was so right. "I... she..." "She's your mother. She's supposed to be there for you. But she's only there for herself, for how you reflect on her." I just nodded. I couldn't look in her eyes, and pulled away, looked down. She hugged me, the strong, supportive hug of a friend, exactly what I needed. "Yeah, she's pretty terrible. But you don't understand. I can't just..." "Walk away?" Elizabeth pulled back from the hug. "You absolutely can. Come stay with me. Downstairs is practically a separate apartment. You don't even have to see me unless you want to. Just take some time, reflect, find yourself. Don't jump into this if you don't want it one hundred percent. "Listen, your friends here are all making the same mistakes. They're rushing into their cookie cutter lives because they think they have to. Is that what you want? Playing house and fucking the pool boy while your husband goes golfing and bangs his secretary? Jesus, I thought you were different from the rest of them. I thought you might have actually found something real, because the girl I grew up with would never sell herself out and settle for the same shit we used to make fun of the adults for. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy. I want you to do what you want to do for you. Not for your mom. Not for Liam. Not for looks. Do what you want. What makes YOU happy. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself." And that was the moment. We were sitting at the table. She had just dropped more reality in my lap than anyone had in, probably my whole life. I looked at her, just sitting there looking perfect, no judgment, just honesty and friendship, and I don't know why I did it but I leaned across and just kissed her. ...and it was perfect. That moment. That kiss. Her lips were soft, she seemed surprised, but then she reacted, let it happen, gave herself to the moment. It lasted forever. It was a lifetime in that one kiss. But it was only a moment, time frozen, a heartbeat that encompassed eternity. When it was over we both just stared at each other. "I'm sorry," I said too quickly. "Don't be," she said, seeming surprised, but not offended. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally she broken the silence. "I'm not," she started, then stopped. "I mean, I never." It was the only time I'd ever seen her uncertain. "I never kissed another woman before," was what she settled on. "Me either," I said. "I'm sorry." She smiled, that same reassuring smile that always made me feel better. "No, don't be sorry. I... I have to process this. But if it's what you felt, what you feel, I'm glad you did it." "I don't want it to change... I need you, as a friend." "I'll always be your friend," she said and hugged me again. "And this is new. I'm not scared of it, but... all things considered, I think it's safest for both of us if we take a step back, make sure we're not reacting to a moment. If it's real, it will still be real when the excitement of the moment is gone." I nodded. Then I looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, I asked for something I wanted just for me. "That makes sense, but..." I leaned back from the hug, arms still around her, and asked my question. "Can we do it one more time?" We did. It was even more amazing. Mom, Dad. I'm leaving this here for you. You'll never understand, but at least you'll know why. I'm going to California to stay with Elizabeth. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't even know if we're going to try dating. I just know that I can't pretend anymore. I can't pretend to be something I'm not just to make you happy. I deserve to be happy, too. And honestly, the peace I feel making this decision, the inner peace I finally feel, is worth being the villain in your story.

Will my tunnel accommodate more than one of you at a time?