love

Lana Del Rey Part 2

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He was a troubled rebellious lad with a bad reputation and a way with words who is probably good at tying ropes, she was a run down borderline suicidal slice of potential heaven with the perfect lips for the playing on the skin flute. She was spoiled. He spoils. They fuck. She’s happy for the five minutes they got together. He’s a liar who means well. They will eventually explode into madness together. Match made in heaven.

That is the basic synopsis for almost every Lana Del Rey Mysterio song minus cocaine and without mentioning the daddy kink or Old Hollywood fetish. Kind of.

Which makes me raise the following question like Lana’s voice raises my weiner.. why are we (men) attracted to the things we know are ultimately bad for us?

I talk to girls that always bitch about their love for the toxic that ends up hurting them yet they keep going at it over and over.

But what about the guys that indulge these bitches and get their heart ruined from excessive fucking and bad breakups?

I hope those girls don’t read this.. (I hope they do because they can’t do shit about me using them as an idea xoxo)

Anyway, men have a lust for the wicked just like the chicas do. We like thinking we can take the crazy broad and change her and bring order into her world and be the big sexy hero of her life. Fucking superhero fantasy.

It’s like all those guys Lana dated before she started eating at Burger King. All allegedly cool and tough and dangerous until she realized deep down they were sweet and the illusion was killed. Doot doot dooot.

Almost as if she realized they were trying to do her good and that inner whore devil decision making side said cut it out you fuck. Can’t get that redemption arc yet.

That’s how you get a song like In My Feelings where Lana cries while masturbating and calls her ex lover a loser.

Is the poor boy really a loser? Maybe a retard, sure. Did he really think he can taste the nectar of the Pepsi Pussy and leave unharmed by drama?

Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like Lana because she knows better but can’t do better. Fucked over by her own nature. Sad, sad, sad.

Deep down she loves the drama. And we love drama. No men is complete without being in love with a crazy cunt. It’s what makes us REAL MEN. A badge of honor. And a girl can’t live without the drama. You know this. Excitement beats boredom. And a Lana type chick is the perfect partner for a tango in a Hell of this making.

The Lanas of the world are like the mythical sirens. So beautiful yet deadly. You wanna listen, touch, kiss at the expense of your life and sanity.

Is it worth it?

Probably.

If I make “her” cry, I wanna use her tears as lube and hold her close. And then lie and be a fake and act Macho after falling in love so she never realizes that power she has over me. Then order sushi and read poetry or shoot rifles. And then fuck each other silly again. Me in my black suit. Her with the necklace and heels. Mm.

Hey man, God bless Lana Del Rey. Making good music, bringing weird girls into my life.

The Priestess of the Sad Girls. Queen of Coney Island. Motivator of Dirty Old Men.

Such grace. Such cinematic quality to each track. Art that will inspire even a monk to stimulation.

It takes a smart man to recognize her genius. She embodies the feminine spectrum to perfection.

I love her and God knows how much I like her fans.

By like her fans I mean I wanna impregnate those ladies after every conversation we end up having.

Is there a point to this?

This isn’t really about Lana Del Rey but it sure fits right?

Few© understand.

Thirst Diaries

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It was another gloomy fucking morning where I accidentally (seriously, I promise) found your old voice recordings. With that innocent sexy voice of yours that would cause a celibate and chaste monk to spunk instantly.

And I listened and I laughed and maybe even began redirecting blood flow to my nether region unintentionally.

And I smiled.

Thinking about how we could have been such an absolutely fucking dynamite couple.

We could have had a lovely garden together..

Some cute dogs!

A shared metal playlist.

And daily no holds barred fuckfests that involve me giving you multiple edged orgasms and putting you in a choker customized to my liking.

Babygirl you really missed out..

If I could bottle up my lust for you I’d sell it as a high end aphrodisiac on premium market auctions like the Wu-Tang did.

You annoying twat, shame.

Stop showing your delicious tits on IG too.

Don’t stop actually.

I fucking miss you so bad.

…
..
.

SIKEEEEE!

Bitch, tomorrow is a new day.

I don’t love these hoes, no matter how cute!

Skrrt!

DOOT DOOOOT DOOT!

Pause 4 Porno

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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.

Where Is Da Luv

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Why do we place guidelines and rules on love?

Whatever happened to just going with the flow?

Baby, fuck your friends and what the group text say

Fuck society and television cuz it’s just you and me and I’m not buying you a fancy watch or a vacation ticket

I just want to break your back on the sofa, whisper lies into your ear and love you hard without ever saying I love you

Don’t play games, just do your stupid hysteria and ask me if I’m cheating every two weeks so I can make jokes and DM girls on the side but fuck it.. you love me anyway right? Bring that fucking ass over here and let me play with your hair

You don’t know how much I like our shit

We’re so fucking toxic, let’s burn the continent

It’s fun till it ain’t

We both leave

You fuck some nerds and I keep on being a scumbag and then I die by the hands of government or drugs

Miss ya (never)

(sometimes)

Kitten Ballad

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As heavy smoking wrecks havoc on my lungs, I reminisce on the potential lovers I pissed off and pissed on before I gave them the chance to wrap their pretty pink lips around my somewhat thick drum stick.

For I am God’s gift to women, the man who can do no wrong while spiraling out of control in a whirlwind of chaos and tits.

While I legitimately enjoy the prospect of no holds barred sex with the whores of Instagram, my biggest turn on is a nice and wholesome brunette who cooks me breakfast and loves me. Shocking isn’t it? I am aware.

I’m so bloody young and I’m already yearning for love. Fucking disgraceful. Where did it go wrong? Too much TV.

My biological imperative guides me to ejaculate and evacuate but even if I do that, why can’t I have both worlds?

When will the Lord give me a sexually depraved jezabel with a hint of elegance who will die for me and is mentally ill but also a good partner lacking toxic traits? Yeah, I know. Stupid.

A man can dream. Even if he does not sleep. Ever.

Groupie Love

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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

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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.

Yes, Daddy

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What is it about the latest societal trend of barley fertile women calling bearded men daddy?

I asked myself this question quite often lately. I’d be a liar if I said I don’t get a mammoth sized erection when I hear her utter those words though. But still, I just can’t quite grasp it.

You can make the argument that it’s a good representation of how all those rainbow haired ladies lacked a strong father figure and are compensating, you can chalk it up to submission play and kink. Honestly? I think most women just follow the linguistic degenerate trends in order to help better service our naughty parts.

But what does a “daddy” even do?

Well, what does a father do?

-Sets boundaries

-Educates and gives life lessons

-Punishes you when you mess up so you do better

-Protects you even when you’re a little shit

Ah shit, add aggressively fucks and bruises your esophagus and that’s a daddy.

In my experience anyway? Others will concur.

I guess in this decaying age of postmodern “men and women”, a daddy is necessary.

It’s hard work, but when she’s on her knees and begging to swallow your genetic load with a genuine smile and a glitter in her slutty eyes.. it’s worth it.

Fuck it all if that ain’t goddamn romantic to you.

Governments fall, people die, plants rot.. but memories of her spunk soaked face after you skullfucked her to tears? That’s eternal.

I need a shower. Make love, not oil wars.

Always wrap the willy.

Sex Is A Drug, Drugs Are My Sex

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Some people get high off pharmaceutical chemicals, some people get a high off purchasing large amounts of Gucci bags and Calvin Klein underwear.. Me? I get high off of getting pussy.

My drug of choice is the vagina, I’m addicted to the labia.

Popping off inside the warm confines of the vagine is my opioid, my heroin. It helps me forget about all my pain and woes.

When the sugar walls clamp on my moderately thick male member it’s as if I just took a big hit of some bomb ass kush. It makes me feel alive. When she rides me with conviction, I feel divine. When I see her raven black hair, her mischievous smile, I find peace. When I take a whiff and the smell of her lust reches my lungs, I don’t wanna die. Goddamn, I don’t want the high to ever stop. Fuck.

But the problem with all drugs is eventually you get hooked. Like a narcotic Wall St. broker looking to get his next fix of the booger sugar, all I can think about is when will I get my next dose and how.

To quote King Push:
“24/7, 365, pussy stays on my mind”

You’re my drug. Pale or tanned. Blonde or brunette. Busty or flat. I just wanna mate. Let me get you drunk and let’s get lost in a sea full of pubis. Make me come alive (innuendo intended).

And if I can’t get it then cannabis and benzos are pretty tight too. If only intercourse helped me sleep or digest food better though.

Love = Facefucks

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It’s the weekend. Early morning, a young hetero couple is watching GoT on Netflix. They share a glass of wine and start to get heated. Shirts are removed. Soaking panties are thrown aside. The woman is heavily aroused after an hour of watching ultra violence, dragons and prostitutes getting brutally railed by masculine barbarians.

So what does her man do in this scenario? You would think he is gonna rough the ever living fuck out of her gushing holes, but alas it isn’t the case.

The poor woman instead gets treated to 10 minutes of poorly executed missionary and a failed attempt at cunnilingus.

Way to go, loser. Your woman wanted you to give her the aggressive boinking of a lifetime and you fuck it up. Over and over. Why? Because you don’t wanna demean her.. it’s disrespectful to rawdog your significant other like a Santa Monica callgirl. At least, that’s what some guys keep telling themselves. 

We have a generation of men that lack the testicular fortitude needed to properly give dick to their poor ladies. THAT IS WHY THEY FUCK THE POOL GUY AND TYRONE.

YOU ARE NOT PUSHING HER SHIT IN, BUDDY.

Newsflash! Most women want to be fucked and they want to be fucked hard. She wants you to take charge and inseminate her like a porn star that’s hopped up on erection pills.

I honestly believe that a healthy weekly dose of humiliating, no holds barred sex is the key to a successful relationship. Of course, you still gotta have game and not be a cuck but that’s a different post for a different audience.

Would it kill you to pull her hair, smack her firm ass and whisper dirty things in her ear once in a while? It doesn’t mean you don’t love her, silly. It shows you care!

Buy a set of handcuffs, a whip and make her gag on your magic Johnson! Man the fuck up, tofu eater.

Remember, kids! Break her cervix.. not her heart.