I'm Back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So before you get all excited, I have a new website and trust I will give out the URL. It's not a blogspot or whoever.com, it's mine!

I want to thank all of you that continued to check back and see if I was still alive! Thank you so much!!!

Just to let you know, I've been having really great sex while establishing my site.

NO JUDGMENT ZONE!!!!!!!!!!!

Check out diaryofarionataylor.com

That's diary of ariona taylor.com

Silenced

Due  to  an  ongoing  investigating,  Ariona  Taylor  has  been  silenced.  But  don't  worry,  once  lifted,  I  will  be  back  harder  and  stronger.

Porn Star Mentality

Question:  Would you take the opportunity to expose your inner porn star?


  I  envy  those  porn  stars.  They  have  great  bodies  and  can  take  as  many  dicks  as  they  please.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  fact  that  society  looks  down  on  them,  and  their  vaginas  will  lose  its  lining,  I  would  do  the  same  thing.  Before  you  judge  me,  porn  stars  and  strippers  are  the  reason  "our"  men  creep  around.  So  maybe  we  can  reflect  on  their  naughty  attitude.  To  have  the  power  to  tease  men  and  have  them  melt  in  your  hands.


 No,  I  don't  have  security  issues.  I  am  perfectly  fine  with  my  current  version  of  beauty.  Except  for  the  cellulite  on  my  thighs  and  pouch  for  a  stomach.  Maybe  a  little  upset  about  the  small  breast  and  dimples  in  my  butt.  Other  than  that,  I'm  perfectly  fine.  Power  is  inevitable.  It  makes  you  feel  like  the  world  is  yours.  To  have  men  madly  in  love  with  you,  begging  for  your  hand  in  marriage.  Yeah,  it  would  be  nice.


  It  happened  to  me  awhile  ago.  Met  a  man  that  I  had  complete  control  over.  I  would  tell  you  the story,  but  I'm  still  being  investigated.  Once  they  release  me  as  a  witness,  I  will  explain  the  situation.


  Every  man  knows  that  women  have  some  whore  like  qualities.  So  for  that  boring  house  wife  or  plain  jane  girlfriend,  release  that  inner  slut  to  keep  him  happy.  Now  if  you're  in  it  for  the  money  like  all  vixens,  then  you  already  know  what  to  do.  For  those  that  think  I  have  a  whore,  porn  star  mentality,  well  maybe  you're  right.  Sex  is  wonderful.  I  love  sex  and  the  power  it  gives  me.  To  be  free  with  that  special  or  not  so  special  someone.


  Make  yourself  feel  good,  sleep  with  that  man  you've  always  wanted  to.  You're  not  a  whore  for  doing  it.  You  just  have  whore  like  qualities.  I'm  a  bad  influence  and  have  done  everything  I  claim  to  have  done.  I  won't  apologize  for  my  naughty  behavior.  And  neither  should  you!!!

Separating The Good From The Bad

 I became a slave to society as soon as I entered this hell. Strong willed, refusing to show weakness, I refused to cry. Then the doctor slapped me on my naked ass and the controversy began. Little did I know the repercussions would not stop there. All of my life I was reprimanded for my strong will. Tossed back and forth from the streets to home, I learned that they were the same place. Mama always had a hustle. She had also always had a selfish streak. I was just another hustle. Not knowing who my daddy was, Mama pawned me off to the highest bidder. Since I was light skinned, I stood a better chance in the divided world where the only dominant color was green. Since I had grown up, the most important lesson that I took with me, was to always love me no matter what anyone said.

Ten years had passed me by. I sat on the broken step of a crack house with no particular thought in mind. My hands trembled. My throat ached. The sun beat on me like a two dollar whore refusing a trick. This was where I had landed. Loving me, depending only on me. Disregarding the help of the good intentioned people along the way. Always thinking that someone was out to get me, when the truth was, everyone was trying to help me. Accusing my high school math tutor of soliciting sex from me, when he was just trying to teach me how to divide and figure out that damn algebra. I had lost myself within myself. Who was I to refuse the kindness of strangers and the familiar faces that had known my struggles all too well. My childhood was no secret. The entire neighborhood knew who I was. Most of them had witnessed the fights between Mama and me. They had also saw the many police raids.

I was no different than the rest of the abandoned children thrown to the streets. Society had labeled me as a misfit, junkie, whore, trash. But one man saw something in me that I didn't even see. Everyone called him “The Mechanic”. He was known to fix cars around the neighborhood. Skinny as a twig, clothes falling off of the malnourished bones I called a body. This man made a bed for me on his sofa. Worn like a pair of shoes, the holes in the cushion were as big as I was. Ever so grateful, I laid there quiet so that he could finish polishing his silverware. He said it was a gift from his great grandmother that got it from her great grandmother years ago. A white woman had given it to her as a peace offering for ruining her life. A platter of silverware made in the early eighteen hundreds worth about two thousand dollars nowadays, hardly enough to compensate for enslaving a human race. Once I knew the story, it angered me to see The Mechanic polishing that twenty piece dinner set. That's what his great great grandmother did all the time to please her massa.

My eighteenth birthday had rolled around. The Mechanic had gotten drunk. He offered me a beer, but I declined. After I seen the devil in him, I wanted nothing to do with that potion. My virginity was far from me. Not my choice though. Physically I was too weak to fight. Mama was suppose to be my strength, but her mind was weaker than mine. The Mechanic didn't overpower me at all. Once that demon left him, I was all his. I could smell traces of it on his breath, but his temperament was calm and comforting.

Now I sit with a legacy of my own in my belly baking for the summer time. Don't know who it is yet. Really don't care. A boy would lead a nation and a girl will birth a new one. Life meant something to me. The Mechanic's liver couldn't gain handle on that demon. They laid him in the ground this afternoon. I cried only because my hormones were out of wack. Emotions were limited in my life, having seen so much. The walls began whisper in that old house. I had to get out of there. As soon as my bare feet hit the pavement, my legacy was born! Great news everyone! I have a soldier for the army. Not the American army. I wouldn't dare do that to my blood. I'm talking about the army of life. A man that will lead this nation to victory with his knowledge and wisdom, not his fist or his gun.

Paying back my ancestors with getting off my ass and working, I became a woman. The Mechanic had left me a few coins in his will. The rest went to his wife and children on the other side of town. Shit happens!

I Got A Secret Shhhh!!!

    

    There  is  a  secret  that  has  been  on  my  mind  for  ten  years.  It  amazed  and  confused  me  at  the  same  time.  No  one  ever  knew  this  secret  but  me.  The  first  time  it  happened,  I  just  laid  there  in  excruciating  pain.  Tears  showered  my  face  every  time.  When  it  happened,  I  was  always  home  alone.  Why  me?  No  human  being  should  have  had  to  go  through  such  turmoil  and  hell.  It  was  an  embarrassing  predicament  to  be  in  at  such  a  young  age.  For  so  long,  I've  waited  to  tell  someone  about  the  heart  wrenching  secret  that  had  me  in  knots  every  night.  Agonizing  pain  terrorizing  my  mind  constantly.


  
     Mama  took  me  to  see  a  therapist  about  my  secret,  but  that  lady  was  not  prepared  for  the  frightening  truth.  I  couldn't  utter  the  blatant  disgusting  truth  to  that  nosy,  big  nosed,  pale,  grandma  panties  wearing  closet  freak.  Whew!  She'll  know  how  I  feel  about  her  now.  There  you  have  it  Mrs.  Smith.  Here  I  am  now  a  grown  woman  that's  been  through  so  many  things,  nothing  like  what  I  had  been  through  ten  years  ago  when  I  was  seventeen.  I  have  to  get  it  off  my  chest,  but  how  can  I  live  with  the  world  knowing  this  demonic  secret?  Forget  it!  It  doesn't  matter  what  anyone  thinks.  I'm  going  to  tell  this  secret  and  be  judged  to  the  fullest  extent.  Here  it  is  world!


  
    Ten  years  ago,  I  needed  a  job.  Mama  wouldn't  give  me  any  money  and  I  couldn't  get  any  assistance  from  social  services.  There  was  a  married  couple  that  lived  a  few  doors  down.  The  man  was  legally  blind  and  required  assistance  getting  around.  I  offered  to  help  the  man  if  the  woman  paid  me  one-hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  week.  She  agreed.  That  next  morning  I  went  to  work  for  the  couple.  As  we  sat  inside  of  the  three  bedroom  trailer,  Bob,  the  blind  man,  told  me  stories  about  how  he  used  to  sell  drugs  before  he  went  to  prison.  Sadly,  that  was  where  his  vision  had  degenerated.  Bob  admitted  to  having  over  ten  thousand  dollars  stashed  in  the  backyard  of  that  very  trailer.  At  first  I  didn't  believe  him,  but  when  I  helped  him  to  the  old  rusty  trunk  hidden  in  an  empty  dog  house  in  the  backyard,  my  opinion  changed.


  
    Bob  told  me  that  he  was  dying  of  pancreatic  cancer.  His  wife  would  be  well  off  with  his  insurance  money,  so  he  was  just  going  to  spend  his  savings.  All  I  could  do  was  laugh.  There  was  no  way  this  guy  was  serious.  When  I  left  that  evening,  I  went  to sleep  with  a  big  smile  on  my  face.  What  if  Bob  was  serious?  I  could  have  really  used  at  least  some  of  that  money.  The  next  morning,  I  walked  in  and  Bob  sat  on  the  back  porch  where  the  money  was.  Bob  appeared  shaken  to  the  core.  I  asked  him  what  was  wrong.  It  shocked  me  when  he  told  me  that  the  doctors  told  him  he  only  had  a  few  days  to  live.  My  heart  broke  for  him.  I  leaned  over  to  hug  Bob,  then  jumped  back  when  I  felt  a  finger  in  my  butt!  Never  having  been  that  close  to  an  old  person  before,  the  smell  of  mothballs  and  future  death,  made  me  nauseous.

  
  
      Bob  told  me  that his  wife  had  stop  sleeping  with  him  after  he  was  diagnosed.  Since  he  was  dying,  he  would  give  anything  to  have  one  last  orgasm.  My  stomach  turned  a  hundred  times  in  two  seconds.  The  back  of  my  throat  taste  of  vomit.  Shaking  my  head  in  complete  disregard,  I  stood  up  and  walked  away.  Bob  pleaded  with  me.  He  kept  reminding  me  that  he  would  die  before  the  week  was  over  with.  He  told  me  that  all  the  money  in  the  trunk  could  be  mine.  His  wife  knew  nothing  about  it.  Bob  said  he  was  saving  the money  for  his  first  born,  but  since  he  never  had  children,  he  would  leave  the  money  buried.


  
     Bob  held  my  hand,  gently  rubbing  his  wrinkles  against  my  sweaty  hands.  After  staring  at  the  money,  which  Bob  told  me  to  dig  up.  I  swallowed  my  pride  and  all  self  dignity.  Bob  wanted  to  go  into  the  den.  I  sat  him  on  the  couch.  He  couldn't  see  me  anyway,  so  I  didn't  have  to  undress.  Surprisingly,  Bob  wanted  to  suck  on  my  breast.  Ugh!!!!  As  soon  as  he  touched  me,  it  felt  just  like  it  looked.  A  toothless  man  sucking  and  slobbering  all  over  my  breast.  I  wanted  to  die!  I  jumped  off  of  Bob,  spit  ran  down  my  chest.  There  was  no  way  I  could  do  it,  but  Bob  began  crying.  Sitting  back  on  his  lap,  I  unbuttoned  his  trousers.  Interesting  enough,  Bob  had  a  hard  on.  Not  quite  a  full  hard.  It  felt  like  a  big  worm invaded  my  vagina.  Within  seconds  Bob  had  an  orgasm.  But  when  I  lifted  off  of  him,  urine  seeped  out  of  me.  Bob  looked  embarrassed.  Great,  he  urinated  inside  of  me.


  
    Taking  all  of  the  money  and  running  home  to  shower  four  times,  I  stashed  eight  thousand  dollars  under  the  floor  boards  of  my  room.  When  I  walked  out  of  the  house,  all  I  saw  were  Paramedics  and  police  swarmed  around  Bob's  house.  As  soon  as  Bob's  wife  saw  me,  she  marched  over  and  slapped  me  in  my  face.  I  had  taking  the  money  and  ran,  forgetting  that  Bob  was  still  blind.  He  had  tried  to  get  up  and  clean  himself  off,  when  he  tripped  over  his  unbuttoned  pants,  falling  head  first  into  the  fireplace.  Two  officers  walked  over  and  placed  me  in  handcuffs.


  
     Sitting  in  the  interrogation  room,  my  pathetic  life  flashed  before  my  eyes.  Crying  like  a  baby,  I  regretted  being  so  stupid.  Who  fucks  an  old  blind  man.  That  was  nasty!  The  homicide  detective  entered  the  room along  with  Bob's  wife.  He  sat  across  from  me  with  a  cup  of  coffee  sitting  on  the  table.  Immediately,  I  asked  if  I  was  going  to  jail.  The  detective  sipped  on  the  scolding  coffee.  He  asked  me  numerous  questions  about  what  happened  at  Bob's  house.  I  told  them  about  Bob's  cancer  and  how  he  was  about  to  die.  I  added  that  Bob  paid  me  five  thousand  dollars  from  money  he  had  stashed  in  the  backyard.  It  was  all  out  on  the  table  about  Bob  going  to  prison  for  selling  drugs  and  was  released  due  to  his  deteriorating  eyesight.


  
     The  detective  and  I  both  stared  clueless  at  Bob's  wife.  She  had  tilted  her  head  back,  laughing  like  no  tomorrow.  Hand  slapping  the  table,  screaming  and  hyperventilating  with  laughter.  In  between  shrills,  the  small  framed  woman  began  telling  the  story  of  Bob  Canton.  My  eyes  widened  as  I  learned  that  Bob  had  not  been  diagnosed  with  pancreatic  cancer.  His  right  eye  was  completely  without  sight  and  his  left  eye  was  slightly  blind.  But  nothing  could  have  prepared  me  for  the  bomb  of  them  all.  Bob  had  not  gone  to  prison  for  selling  drugs,  he  had  gone  for  illegally  printing  money!  Having  worked  in  the  U.S  Tresury  for  twelve  years,  Bob  was  arrested  and  charged  with  stealing  the  metal  plates  and  running  a  store  front  printing  shop.  The  Federal  Government  seized  every  penny  Bob  had,  except  ten  thousand  dollars!  She  had  known  about  the  money  the  entire  time.  Bob  always  bragged  that  the  Feds  would  never  get  all  of  his  money,  he  had  even  told  his  wife  that  she  would  never  get  it  either.  Then  again,  Bob  also  suffered  from  Alzheimer's  and  would  frequently  give  then  take  back  the  money  all  the  time.


  
    Tickled  pink  by  my  embarrassment,  Bob's  wife  refused  to  press  charges.  She  laughed  so  hard  that  the  old  bag  fell  over  on  the  table  dead  and  still  smiling.  The  detective  released  me  and  I  ran  home  and  vomited  for  the  rest  of  the  night.

School House Disturbance

 In  the  ninth  grade,  a  school  bully  kicked  me  so  hard  in  my  back,  that  I  was  rushed  to  the  emergency  room.  After  that,  the  teacher  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  move  me  to  another  class.  Sitting  in  the  back  of  the  special  education  class,  I  felt  belittled  and  worthless.  Even  the  mentally  challenged  students  were  laughing  at  my  frayed,  dirty  clothes.  With  no  support  from  anyone,  I  ran  away.


  Mama  only  help  to  find  me  because  she  was  getting  a  check  from  the  Department  of  Social  Services.  When  the  social  worker  and  police  found  me,  I  was  hiding  under  the  staircase  in  the  library.  When  I  told  the  social  worker  about  being  teased,  she  recommended  an  alternative  school.  NovaNet  was  basically  for  underprivileged  children  with  family  issues  such  as  mine.  Someone  from  the  administrative  office  had  donated  a  box  full  clothes  and  shoes  to  my  front  door  over  the  weekend.  Was  I  happy  to  wear  designer  clothing  to  school.


   That  Monday  morning.  Up  early,  in  the  shower,  dressed  to  impress,  I  strutted  down  the  street  to  school.  There  were  guys  blowing  their  car  horns  at  my  defined  curves.  All  the  attention  made  me  feel  great.  Once  I  entered  the  classroom,  I  noticed  a  slight  tingle  between  my  legs.  I  knew  it  was  because  all  of  the  hip  switching  I  was  doing.  My  fellow  classmates  were  studying  at  the  computers.  When  I  sat  down,  a  girl  that  never  spoke  to  me,  leaned  over  a  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder.

    "Hey!  You  fit  those  really  well."  She  was  very  popular,  so  her  comment  really  brighten  my  day.

     "I  hope  you  washed  them  good.  They  gave  me  the  worst  yeast  infection."  Instantly  my  crotch  began  to  itch.  I  ran  to  the  bathroom  and  took  the  jeans  off.  There  was  a  rash  on  the  inside  of  both  thighs.  Too  raw  for  touch,  I  couldn't  put  my  jeans  back  on.  I  had  to  walk  down  the  hall,  legs  opened  like  an  Ostrich,  in  my  underwear!  

Tattletale

 I  sat  in  the  kitchen  in  the  fetal  position  crying  my  eyes  out.  Mama  had  whipped  me  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  I  had  done  the  worst  thing  a  human  could  ever  do.  The  most  disgusting  act  too  heinous  to  even  mention  on  this  very  page!  Mama  had  enough  of  me  one  weekend.  It  started  with  one  of  my  twin  cousins,  Kyla.  She  was  very  popular  in  high  school  with  the  advantage  of  getting  away  with  murder  if  she  wanted  to.  Coreletta,  the  twins  mother,  had  married  the  Sheriff.  That  was  a  golden  opportunity  for  Mama  to  obtain  more  drugs.  Her  heroin  habit  had  reached  an  all  time  high, (no  pun  intended).  Kyla  would  steal  evidence  her  crooked  step-father  would  withhold  from  a  drug  bust.


Kyla,  the  oldest  twin  by  three  minutes,  had  a  dark  side.  To  be  sixteen,  she  knew  a  lot  of  guys  and  had  told  Mama  once  that  she  dated  a  few  of  the  men  her  step-dad  had  locked  up.  Kyla  was  currently  dating  Taser,  a  fresh  parolee.  He  had  shot  a  rival  gang  member.  Spending  ten  of  his  thirty  year  sentence  in  prison  for  the  cold  blooded  murder,  Taser,  who  was  twenty-nine,  had  no  problem  sliding  his  way  into  Kyla's  legs.  I  mean  heart!


 Since  her  parents  did  not  know  what  Kyla  was  up  to,  she  would  sneak  over  to  our  house.  Mama  treated  that  girl  better  than  me.  She  would  give  Kyla  beer  and  even  allowed  the  illegal  couple  to  have  sex  in  the  back  of  the  house.  Taser  began  to  set  up  shop  in  the  laundry  room  of  our  run  down  mobile  home.  Kyla  pranced  around  with  her  weed  and  beer  like  she  was  grown.  They  talked  like  best  friends,  Kyla  and  Mama.  I  hated  Kyla,  so  I  told  her  parents  about  her  sneaking  over  to  our  house  and  drinking.  Coreletta  had  sent  Kyla  away  to  live  with  her  paternal  grandmother.  Sneaking  away  from  there  also,  Kyla  was  back  within  days.


 Mama  hid  the  slutty  bitch  when  her  step-dad  came  looking  for  her.  Licking  her  tongue  at  me  as  they  tied  me  up,  duct  taping  my  mouth  shut.  The  last  straw  was  when  Mama  had  moved  me  out  of  my  room  and  gave  it  to  Kyla  because  she  was  "pregnant".  Mama  knew  damn  well  that  me  and  Nadia  shared  that  room.  I  only  held  on  to  it  for  that  reason.  Nadia  was  my  older  sister.  Mama's  heroin  addicted  boyfriend  had  turned  her  into  a  whore,  injected  her  with  that  poison  and  then  when  she  overdosed,  the  bastard  threw  her  into  the  back  of  a  pickup  truck  that  barricaded  our  bedroom  window.  Mama  knew  that  room  held  a  lot  of  memories  for  me.  When  I  came  home  from  school  that  next  afternoon,  all  of  my  things  were  packed  neatly  by  the  bathroom  door.


 The  next  day,  I  informed  the  school  of  my  home  life.  The  way  I  had  been  treated.  Within  minutes,  a  social  worker  and  two  deputies  were  knocking  on  my  front  door.  Sitting  across  the  street  at  the  park,  watching  the commotion  go  down  as  the  deputies  caught  Mama,  Kyla,  and  Taser  getting  high  from  the  large  batch  of  heroin  on  the  table.  They  were  to  high  to  fight  the  police.  Being  dragged  lifelessly  to  jail,  the  three  druggies  were  taken  downtown.  Days  later,  after  things  had  settled  down,  I  entered  the  trailer  resuming  life  like  before.  I  threw  out  Kyla's  belongings,  fixed  myself  a  sandwich,  then  settled  down  to  a  movie.  Maybe  being  a  tattletale  wasn't  so  bad  after  all.