My main chick met my mistress

Truly a tragic day in the life of online celeb Gurskyman.  A tragic day is nothing new unfortunately.  Believe you me, I have stared trauma in the face before.  I've witnessed friends die at war for Christ's sake, probably.  However, nothing compares to what I was forced to undergo this afternoon - My main chick finally met my mistress. 

You read it correctly.  Elba, my lusty Latina lover, discovered some pretty awesome sexts from my side chick Lareesha.  Needless to say she wasn't entirely thrilled.  She started screaming demonic-sounding phrases in German, or whatever Latinas speak.  After the uncalled for shout-fest she demanded I provide her with Lareesha's address.  I assume her goal was to show up to that broad's doorstep and perform for Worldstar.  Luckily (or unluckily as I could have had some viral content), I have no idea where Lareesha lives.  All of our sexual encounters have occurred at or behind Arby's.  It's likely she may work there but how in the world should I know. 

Regardless, madness ensued.  Elba spit chew on the carpet before forcing me to give her my phone password.  I obliged.  She proceeded to "hit up" Lareesha on Facetime.  I was nervously biting my nails in addition to nervously peeing myself.  Lareesh picked up, greeting who she thought to be me with a friendly "Wassup bae?"  She was shocked to see I turned into a Latin American woman.  Of course she quickly figured out that it wasn't me.  The two exchanged words.  Most of these words were "whore" and "thot".  For the life of me I don't know what a thot is, but I assume it's a synonym for whore.  Before hanging up Elba demanded, "Come to Daddy Master Sex's house."  (that would be me obviously) Lareesha enthusiastically agreed to. 

Several hours passed by.  Lareesha never showed up, or at least not say hello.  I walked out front to see a few dead cats on my property.  I presume that is the last memory I will have of my thick side piece.  Elba came to the conclusion "that thot ain't comin", so she took out all of her final rage on me.  She hissed at me and hit me with a wiffle ball bat.  Oddly enough I don't even own one.  Maybe she carries it with her, though that's a very minor detail.  All in all, it didn't hurt that bad as she was hitting me with plastic sporting equipment.  It hurt enough to learn my lesson, though.  I'm a one woman man.  The only difficulty I face in future relationships is deciding whether I want an ebony lass or a home-cookin Latina.  Only the lord can tell.