Pause 4 Porno

The following is open for interpretation:

Babygirl and I having a good time together in my penthouse.

Drinking wine under the moonlight. I’m thinking about sodomizing her while I pretend to be a gentleman.

You spill your darkest secrets to me and we share many laughs together. Aren’t we perfect, girl? We barely know each other, girl!

You’re intoxicated and in desperate need to feel something, anything..

I’m an anti-social angry man that is looking to use you like a piece of meat for my own glorification.

I go to get you another drink and I see you bending over in dem tight pants. Mmm. Second thought..

I come to you from behind and press my hard cock against your ass and pull your hair and turn you towards me.. eyes full of excitement. You haven’t been fed huh?

I aggressively stick a hand into your pants and feel wetness in your pink panties.

“Bullseye..”

I immediately take off your pants and turn you towards the porch of the balcony..

You tell me it’s too early for all that but the pussy says otherwise.. you bullshitting big time. You been waiting for this. Physical manifestation of your daddy issues. YES.

I rip your bottoms off and enter the pussy viciously..

You feel a shock at the back of your spine because my cock slid up there so swiftly and powerfully.. and now it’s throbbing inside your guts. Oh me so nasty.

You feel tremors with each stroke and you kindly ask me to stop with the forceful stuff.

I refuse and fuck you so much harder you start to stutter and shout. Music that rivals Mozart. Bliss.

The neighbors are starting to hear you on the verge of double orgasms and I do not care I.. just. have to. tear. you. up..

I whisper dirty things in your ear and you can not even respond.

Fuck you so wet.

I take my monstrous cock out of the pussy and bring you down to your knees
“Are you ready for an award?”

You smile and say yes Daddy
SPUNK splatters all over her slutty make up and she swallows it all up.

Depraved little whore. Disgusting. I love it. My ego is pleased. She is fulfilled for a week or so before she finds another stranger to do that to her.

Somewhere her parents cry.

Vicious cycle of life continues.

What U Up To?

Satan pulled up on yo boi and stared him in the eye

I thought I would die but he simply said..

What you up to?

Ignoring the girls that maybe like you?

Spending too much money, that’s not like you

While you think about the girl with blue hair, yeah that’s what I do

Trolling around with blondie thots on Snapchat? Man..
fuck you

You gotta get an education that’s what you should do

Before big government comes around and drops you

Don’t buy the Rollie, you a fool

Money and investments are a tool, but you never learned that at school so

It’s almost 2 am, go to sleep dawg it’s over

Oh I forgot, it’s Mr. Insomnia forever

Oh he thinks he clever

Whatever..

Lucifer vanished after dropping some bars

I went back to “bed” to “sleep”

Rinse, lather, repeat

And the beat goes on

The Tudy Chronicles

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster”

-Henry Hill

Who doesn’t want to be a gangster? Think about it for a minute.

You got steady access to top notch cigars, your friends are all ball breaking tough guys, you rob and cheat people out of their money and you get fly bitches despite being fat.

Fugget about it!

In this day and age when the governments cheat and whack us all daily.. who doesn’t want to give it a shot themselves? They can’t have all the fun!

Imagine yourself as a 6’0 wiseguy in floral shirts or a snappy blazer. You walk down Mulberry street with your head held high on your way to shake down innocent ethnics. You lay a few beatings and pay off some witnesses with a few bucks. So much fun.

You’re feared and beloved by misguided youths. They carry your moms bags out of respect. Lovely.

You run a harem of goomars while you have a wife and son at home. Beautiful.

Sure, you have to whack some good people along the way. Some friends you love. Lot of blood on those hands.. Oof madone, but you made an oath. Family first. And it pays. You’re a good soldier. Capo soon, God willing.

I mean, yeah.. Eventually you get pinched. Do time upstate. Lose it all. Probably because some ratfuck sang about you. The same man you invited over to dinner weekly. He hugged your kids.. No big deal.

You get out. Earn again. Rebuild. Wife gone. Kids messed up on the junk.

But there’s always a promotion around the corner. Hoes still sucking you. You’re a legendary hitman. No worries. Life is tight.

If you’re lucky, you reach 55. You’re an old fuck now. That promotion to underboss never came. You’re in a rot. Feds still gunning for your ass. It’s a new world. RICO is a motherfucker.

You become an old timer and an afterthought. No earning for the family, a burden. Hookers and skifooza floozies are your hobby and only skill.

You die of cancer and on your deathbed realize you had it all. The woman you loved is gone and you were better off going legit. Your kids will suffer from your mistakes.

Being a gangster is good.

Was it worth it?

The action, violence, pussy, the cash, the clout, the fear? Being the fucking man?

Would you do it over again?

Hell fucking yeah.

Online Gaming

It’s Sunday night.. the weather is cool, the steak you had was moderately tasty and you didn’t have a violent vomit attack tonight. Yay.

You spent most of the day drinking tea and taking vitamins, bullying your little brothers along the way in small doses.

Your friends are scumbags and they never wanna go out and when they do they always make you pay for their shit because they are broke and make bad business decisions.

There’s unanswered messages in your IG DMs because there’s girls you are ignoring. They’re being ignored because someone else ignored you so it’s time for your ego to feel good again.

You log into MGO 3 because everything is fucking boring. You play a few matches against some pimple faced Mexican cocksuckers and Italian finooks who rage quit every minute thus making you lose stats you progressed in.

You set up a new server but the fucking WiFi keeps dying so the game once again crashes and you lose even more stats.

You rage and yell and throw shit around because your estrogen is high from TRT.

It’s midnight and you just wanna grab someone, hang him on a tree, violate his girlfriend and flee the authorities on a boat.

You don’t. It’s midnight. Everything is boring.

You contemplate sending a DM to an ex-hoe so she can drain your mammoth balls. Don’t. Not worth it.

Boring. Boring. Boring.

I want a civil war and a sloppy tear filled blowjob. Now.

Regrets

Regrets suck. I try my best to never live with any of them but I’d be lying if I said it’s truly the case.

We all have some regrets. Some people will regret eating that pizza that caused them to vomit all over their anime body pillow, some regret blowing the one shot they had with their crush, some regret never telling their family how much they love them while they’re still around to hear.

Like I said, we all have regrets. I think most people try to hard too ignore them. They bury their regrets deep and thus they never truly cope with it.

How do you deal with it?

You don’t, they will always be buried in your subconscious unless you start smoking copious amounts of DMT..

You just gotta suck it up, live your life to the best of your ability and keep moving.

Embrace the fact you fucked up and you suck and keep improving until you make up for that one failure that haunts you.

That’s Life © and you can’t deny it.

Sinple really! But not really.

There’s no other way.

Alright, peace out.

HAPPY MOTHERFUCKING NEW YEAR.. ugh. ❤

Groupie Love

Ah, groupies..

A staple part of the iconic rock n’ roll mythos.

What is it that compels young nubile women to leave it all and run off with degenerate guitar playing junkies who sound good on vinyl?

It’s interesting really. They say goodbye to school and hit the road with some larger than life jerkoff that’s drowning in a sea of meaningless pussy just to be another pretty face in the harem.

They spend all day giving fellatio to the gang and rambling about their hopes and dreams to a man who pretends he gives a fuck who just wants ass.

She is in love, the rocker is her entire world. And he.. well, his ego is in love. He likes her very much, but his ego.. his ego is infatuated.

He feels so good. This girl wants his babies, obeys his every word and is a grade A lay. She will cut her wrist if he says so, goddamn.

So much power over her. He loves her. Sort of. Does he though? He writes songs about her, she fuels his creativity, he loves life when she’s around.. but what happens when she nags.. or her insecurity becomes too toxic?

He cares for her, but how much longer can the show go on? I am not a rockstar. I can sure as hell relate though.

Just a little bit. A bit too much.

Pretend You Can’t See Her

It’s another night of unrest. Another night of playing this inter-gender game of chess called romance. You flip and turn restlessly thinking about whether or not you made the right play.

You tell yourself that it’s no big deal if you lose her because there will be always be more women. It’s true. But it’s not her.. you wanna eat every fruit in the bowl and that one slipped from your grip.

The missed potential is burned in the back of your mind and phantom pain creeps in every once in a while to send shockwaves through your testicles.

In a perfect world, there would be no games. You tell her you want to spend your lives together. Or maybe you tell her she’s beautiful and charming but you can’t commit and just want to keep things casual. And she would accept it for what it is. No ego. No being left on read or loss of attraction to worry about. Just taking things at face value.

You could tell her in detail about how you wish to cuddle with her during those cold winter nights with a hand between her thighs and her face resting on your broad chest.

Her smiling satisfied face covered in your semen and your itchy beard drenched in her lady juice. You’re both in love. For the rest of your lives. For the night. Whatever.

But it ain’t a perfect world. Instead we fuck around.. we time our DM responses so we don’t seem needy. We tease, mock and refuse to answer anything honestly because we are afraid of being hurt. No one wants to admit how badly they want each other.

I still think about that canceled wine date with….

I still think about that alternative chick I could have vibed to Nirvana with after I blow her back out….

I still think about the crazy girl that sent me nudes that I never got to meet up because I pissed her off….

I still think about that girl I message here and there but can’t find the nutsack to be upfront with….

So I just pretend I don’t see her. Pretend I don’t miss her.

Current Year Blues

I was born in the wrong decade. About 40 years too late to my estimation.

Now I know every edgy neglected teenager likes to claim he missed the golden years because everything now sucks sweaty ass cheeks, but honestly.. I really did miss it.
Born too late for World War 2 and missed my chance to have bullets pierce my pale skin in the bloody trenches.
Born too late to witness the genesis of the sexual revolution where loose women would have dropped acid with me and gave me tooth-filled blowjobs before vomiting from an overdose..
Born too late for 1980s New York City where the mob ruled the state with an iron fist and you couldn’t enter Copacabana without brushing shoulders with a capo and his goomah..
You get the point I’m trying to make, right?
Yes you do, folks.
[CURRENT YEAR] sucks uncircumcised cock. I am stuck in the generation of faggy selfies, sex bots and OnlyFans.

Bitching about it is pointless but I can’t sleep so fuck off.

We now live in a time where genuine connection between humans keeps alluding us and is replaced by texting.
A time where the family unit is being raped before our very eyes.
A time where honor and masculinity is just another buzzword used for virtue signaling and gaining favor with people you plan to scam.
A time where my fucking olive oil is being replaced with canola.

What the fuck is going on in planet earth?
How did we lose it all so quickly?
Shit, maybe dictatorship wasn’t such a bad idea.

We really can’t be trusted with our freedom.
I cry out for the days where we hunted bears and hung out with chimps before going to our wholesome little cave of a house to fuck the shit out of our thick skulled cavewoman.
Yeah, I know it’s highly likely I would have been stomped to death by a T-Rex.. who cares? At least I wouldn’t be able to lose my job and digital bank account for calling a hermaphrodite a grade A cunt.

I am not in favor of being blackpilled whatsoever, but damn it.. I really sympathize with those who are knees deep in the river of shit called modernity.

The only things keeping me sane in this horrid time period is being able to lift weights, being able to flirt with big buzzom women and see their tits, being able to experiment with illegal chemicals and the option of potentially stabbing someone in an alley should he piss me off.

Life isn’t all that bad though, as long as you spiritually stay strong and avoid Satan’s traps as much as you can..
If you can still bench press, life is still good.
If you still got the money to buy a private island and tanks, life is still good.
If you got at least ONE decent friend, life is still good.
If you read this blog and think I am half-way interesting or wise, life is still good.

Life is still good, right?
You know we’re allowed to vent, bitch and moan here and there because I fucking said we can.
Life ain’t all roses and pink pussy. Shit’s rough.
But we get through.
We all make it.
That’s life.

I Could Have Fucked Cher

After an hiatus from “writing” and too much free time which resulted in excessive nut tugging, let’s tell the freshly squeezed tale of how my desire to climb up Cher’s skirt was foiled by two oddballs.

It was a warm-ish summer night when my friend and I decided to hit up the local pub armed with cigars and Zippo lighters for some good vibes and the potential of having our face washed with waxed cooch.

We sat down and lit up that Dominicano tobacco, looking extremely sexy and possibly menacing if you are a skinny twink passing by.

Suddenly, our waitress (?) arrived to provide service smelling the potential for tips and the masculine pheromones.

Instantly, I could tell I wanted to paint the walls of my house with her vaginal fluids. She was a fairly tall, mildly alternative looking chick with a cute face that desperately needed my wad over it.

I made random convo to break ice and bust balls (ovaries?), asked her name and introduced myself.

Her name was Cher. Like the singer but less cringey and probably better looking with a collar on.

I won’t bore with lame details of what was said, this isn’t a game site. I will say she seemed legit interested and not just tip whoring.

I sent her off to fetch me wine and then trouble came..

A mildly inebriated lad sitting near inquired about our cigars and tried to make convo. Seeing as I ain’t a cunt with ego, I indulged him and we chatted a bit.

He seemed harmless at first. Spoke Italian, former bartender. Odd looking but friendly. He drank about two liters of beer. He was with his Russian friend. A funny fat lad who screams instead of talking. Alright, they were entertaining. We let em join the table.

WHAT. A. FUCKING. MISTAKE.

What started as innocent cigar and travel talk turned into them yelling about politics and scaring off every women in sight. Including Cher. I went from baller mafioso to unwanted personality because I let myself be seen with those fuckers.

The Russian dude started ranting about blacks in front of the African workers and if it wasn’t for me he might have gotten stabbed.

Goddamnit. There I was talking to a beautiful goth-lite chick who produces techno that was probably up to swallow my kids in the bathroom and these fuckers scared her off.

They were so thrilled to be near us, I felt like a hassled celebrity. They even followed us to our car.

Was this how Sinatra had to deal with fans?

Anyway, I didn’t fuck Cher. I could have. Might go back there sometime soon and eat her asshole if possible. Hope this was good content.

Fuck off.

What Would Ric Flair Do?

Whenever I face a major dilemma I ask myself one thing..

What. Would. Ric. Flair. Do?

For example, a woman wants you to settle down and commit, forcing you to leave the rock n’ roll lifestyle behind.

What would Ric Flair do?

He would tell her to hit the road and then visit the nearest bar, drink ten martinis and have some groupie ride Space Mountain.

Wooo!

What if I need to go out and take care of some business and need new clothes for the occasion? Should I buy safe, cheap, trendy outfits?

No. Ric Flair would be buying a bitchin’ custom made suit that costs more than your house.

Wooo!

What if someone tells me I need to give up on my dreams and live the normal life like everyone else?

Did Ric Flair give up on his dream wrestling career when doctors told him he could never wrestle again after breaking his fucking back in a plane crash?

NO. He kept on wrestling for the next 30+ years!

WOOOOOOO!

Be like Ric Flair.

No explanation needed.