Hondurs




I beat the shit out of both of my sons and daughter and it's all good!!! They
will be better people.

Nobody needs to tell me that my childhood was horrific. Both of my "parents"
were alcoholics, violent towards each other and towards me and my 4 siblings
and were the worst parents one could imagine. As a result, none of us kids
stayed there a second past our 17th birthday's. Some of us got married while
the other others joined the Marine's or Army. And I am proud to say all of us
now, are living good lives with our families.

I was born in Honduras and came to the United States when I was 2 years old.
Yes, I speak both English and Spanish. We grew up lower-middle class in a
decent home so it's not like I was poor or ever went without food. Fighting
was as big a part of my life as breathing was and by the time I got to middle
school I was a terror. My grades were always good for someone who never
studied but I was a handful in terms of behavior. By the way, I am not proud
of any of the chaos I created or was part of but it makes up who I am now. I
was never a big girl but I was and still am fearless and would fight anyone at
any time and for any reason or for no reason. We punched, kicked, sometimes
pulled hair, wrestled and always did as much damage as possible before or if
it got broke up. I fought girls up until I was about 18 and even though I
fought a bunch of guys too it was mostly other females I was fighting. Today I
am 5'7 and 140 pounds and like my siblings we are all very attractive with
bodies to match. Just telling you the facts.

I was sexually active, like everyone else I knew, at 14 and was married, the
first time, a week after my 17th birthday to a man who was 26. A nice enough
guy, also Hispanic, grew up like me in the same neighborhood but I really got
married to get out of my crazy house. We did OK, he was a mechanic, handsome
and like me, a really good fighter. We were not exactly upstanding citizens I
have to admit as we smoked a lot of pot and did some other things I am not
proud of, drank too much on occasion and beat the living shit out of a good
number of people along the way. He was never violent towards me, which is good
since he could have beaten me at will. This marriage lasted a total of 13
months and produced one beautiful child. Due to my reputation I suppose, my
body and all, I was never without a guy and was married again a year or so
after my divorce from Alex. Husband #2, was a white guy, had his own lawn
business, had some money too and was quite the underground fist fighter which
was a super turn on for me and where we met. Looking back it is amazing what
used to be a turn on for me. He taught me how to really throw a punch and by
this time the drugs were gone but I still drank and smoked while he did
neither of those things. We had a lot of fun and traveled a lot since his
business was good back then and he made a serious amount of money, all cash
too, from his fighting. In short order I started fist fighting too at these
underground places. It was really easy for me since the females I was beating
on were out of shape big mouthed toughies who really did not grow up like me.
I had a total of nine fistfights, won them all and knocked out 4 of them and
they all were bloody, crying and totally fucked up in no time. I rarely left
unscathed myself but back then those black eyes I wore proudly, again quite
amazing what I used to think was cool. When we both fought at the same place,
which we mostly did, and if we both won (he lost 3 fights of those times) the
sex was on a different level and that level lasted for weeks if not longer. We
were like animals screwing our brains out at that time and we did it every
place you can imagine and God help you if you tried to stop us or lecture us
about doing it in all of the public places we screwed around. Eventually, this
marriage ended too as we were both cheating on each other a lot. At least this
divorce I walked away with a house, car and a nice lump sum of money and
another child. Just three months after the delivery of baby #2 I was back to
fist fighting and did that for two reasons. Foremost, I loved fighting and
everything about it. For me it was an art form, it was a time for me to
dominate and totally destroy another human being who was trying to do the same
thing to me voluntarily, I knew I was very good at it and secondarily, the
money at this time was crazy. I was able to earn, sometimes, $10,000 in cash
which was great in one night. Always wished I was able to fight more but there
was a finite number of ladies back then who would fist fight and although I
did fight a few guys I did know that was a recipe for a lot of hurt.

As time went on as a single lady I was barely 22 years old with two kids. I
finally met, through a friend, a "normal" white guy. Normal? College educated,
a real job, great family, never has been in a fight or did drugs and was one
of the most handsome men I ever met. He was and is the nurturing type.
Initially I thought he would run for them hills once he learned about my
background. Between me playing a little hard to get and inching him into my
life slowly he married me and here we are 18 years later with 4 kids, 2 of
each as they say. He is responsible for me going to college and becoming a
teacher, a job I love and believe me NOBODY I have ever met would have thought
I would attend college and become a teacher. He is also responsible for
arranging some super private athletic training. For the first time in my life
I had a personal trainer to build muscle and strength and a boxing trainer.
The deal was that I was not allowed to ever fist fight again and I was not
allowed to compete in boxing either. I agreed. Life was great. So today my
body is better now than when I was 17 and thought I was the end all. Funny
stuff. I have legit muscles all over and have never been stronger and the envy
of all of our friends which is great. I can beat the devil out of a heavybag
and my trainer's mitts, lol, but I do not compete. Again, life is good and
hardly anyone knows the old me. My only vice is smoking which I rarely do but,
I do on occasion even though he hates it. Let's just say I make him happy in
other areas, more than he ever thought was possible he says, so he leaves me
alone. It is common knowledge I could beat the tar out him but that's an
absurd thought.

I noticed that my kids were becoming down right spoiled and obnoxious over
time as they grew up with endless vacations and everything else anyone could
dream of. Having that kind of attitude is something I was having a very hard
time with and I understood it is generational (snowflakes) and similar to
their other friends. My husband and I discussed this a lot but never had a
good solution until I convinced him to let me deal with it old school.
Reluctantly he agreed. Understand we tried everything that every psychologist,
school guidance counselor and book said to try with the same lousy results. It
was old school time!

First thing I did was to challenge the 20 year old's friends, my son, to arm
wrestling matches in our yard. Dressed in my best bikini, and they always
referred to me as the muscular mom by the way, I went to town. One day he had
6 of "his boys" over for some swimming and I came out with lunch for these
spoiled kids wearing the bikini and my muscles were pumped from the curling I
did just an hour before. I started with the "biggest one" and leaned over the
table so he could see my breasts and I flexed them and then stood straight up
and gave them a muscle show and sat down and put my hand up and asked, WHO
WANTS TO ARM WRESTLE ME? It's not nice to say but I am very proud of my body.
When I told my husband what I did he was hysterical. I took mister big boy and
slammed him down in 5 seconds and did the same to all of the others INCLUDING
my son. For my son I made sure I kept his arm up there until it was shaking
and he was sweating and as he was doing that I drank some lemonade from his
glass and then slammed him down to the table with a thud! You have never seen
such quiet boys with big erections in your life. The big one says, which was a
huge mistake, something about arm wrestling is bullshit and that he wanted to
kick my ass, which was music to my ears to be honest. I directed him away from
the pool and the concrete floor to the grassy area and took off my top.
Remember, old school ass kicking. People stare at my body all the time since I
am "well enowed" and have all of these feminie muscles and according to my
delicious hubby my Hispanic being exudes sensuality, lol. Without saying a
word I threw two jabs, one into each eye. I knew between my strength, the
boxing lessons and the fire that has always burned inside me, the boy was dead
meat. Over the next minute or so he became my personal punching bag as I threw
a lot of punches, mostly into his face but some into his, what he thought was
a hard belly. By the time I was done, he was curled up like a baby, crying and
asking me to stop. I faced the others, with some sweat dripping down my
breasts I should add and asked if they want some and I walked over to them
since they were stone quiet and demanded they answer me and they sure did
although meekly. I mentioned their nice erections to humiliate them some more.
I stood in front of my son and gave him a 5 minute lecture about acting like a
man and he sobbed I have to admit, as I did and I was fully aware I was
topless. I told them to take care of their "big ass" friend and turned back to
the house and called my husband and told him what happened. A similar scene,
but shorter was done with son #2 who was 18.

The girls I had to handle differently and in private and had to do so before
the boys got to them. Fortunately they both arrived home together about 30
minutes after the last set of boys left. I was putting things away in the
dishwasher, fully dressed now in shorts and top and engaged in some small
talk. I asked them both to come outside and I tried one more time to break
through their spoiled skulls and told them that their attitude sucks, their
entitled, obnoxious ways must change. Neither gave a shit and then I did
something I should have done years ago. First, I slapped the older one in the
face as she was sitting so hard it knocked her to the ground and then I back
handed the other with the same result. I have to admit I felt good doing it
knowing they will be better people someday. They were both crying and holding
their faces and dropped a lot of F bombs as they did. I picked up Nancy by her
hair and threw an uppercut into her tight belly (both girls have been dancing
since they were born and both are beautiful with very nice tight bodies ) and
she dropped like the females I used to beat the tar out of back in the day.
The younger one started to really scream for me not to hurt her. I calmed her
down and when she was 50% calm I punched her in her gut the same way with the
same result. The yard has not been that quiet in a long time! It took 15
minutes for them to get their shit together and sit in a chair and drink some
water as their hands were shaking. And it was lecture time as we sat there for
2 hours as I explained my real background, good bad and ugly, and why I had no
choice but to smack them around so they could see the real world and not that
snowflake crap.

It has been two years since all of this has gone down and the family has never
been better and tighter. All 4 of them are in various types of fighting
classes, 2 are boxing and 2 doing judo. Looking back at it all I know I did
the right thing.