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.

Where Is Da Luv

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)

Foreign Digital Pussy

I hold a strong dislike for the majority of females in my country. I find them to be highly unpleasant and uneducated, with a sizeable ego and zero manners. Their aesthetic amount to feces. Nothing good.

In other words, they’re shallow fucking cunts who look like tanned balls. Most of them.

The “men” are even worse, don’t worry.

That’s why I always had a penchant to fantasize, fuck and sext exotic pussy from other continents. As broken as they might be, it’s better than home.

So much more reliable, submissive and pretty than the locals. The masculinity crisis of the west has made it easier for big trap cigar smoking studs to engage in LDR and secure foreign fuck toys for the future (present, if vacationing).

I love the fact that a chick with big tits on the other side of the world is playing with herself to my pictures and dreaming about fucking me. She might get to do it for real if I like her.

Literally had them call me a god.. small G. No blasphemy here. And I ain’t talking third world. I’m talking Canada and America and England.. which is foreign to me. Sigh.

Now there are decent dimes in the local economy, but it pales in comparison to the dollar. Ya dig?

Maybe if we had more artistic blue hair goths or BDSM loving Aryan blondes. A spicy brunette here and there.

It’s by no means me advocating to never touch a local, but if I do it makes me feel dead inside.

I’ll keep hustling though, ain’t no quitta bitch.

Lana Del Rey

The ultimate role model for your run-of-the-mill hoe masquerading as an intelligent bad bitch while living a double life as an ice cream demolishing SSRI abusing semen powered machine.

When Lana said her pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola ® it was a true paradigm shift. She hit a massive spike DDT on our collective generation.

The sheer bravery of this groundbreaking statement, good God.

With her sultry voice and imaginary daddy that sells her coke, nothing was the same. She is responsible for girls giving top notch head worldwide although she probably slurps penile tissue mildly nowadays because she’s already famous and doesn’t need to seduce agents.

I actually like LDR songs because I’m a melancholy man-whore (in theory).

Although in 2021, she needs to go on Keto.. fuck it, I’d still hit.

Why is it that pretty art whores use Lana as a roaring symbol of female excellence while their tight punani is getting invaded on the lowkey by bearded RW bodybuilders?

In the current landscape of sexual dynamics, there is nothing more relatable than a sad used up pretty girl with dead eyes and unfulfilled potential who allegedly lives her best life but yearns for more. Fame can’t replace all the dick that broke your heart and your shitty dad. That’s my perspective which is the only true way to look at it. Shut up and post a seductive selfie that will make me aroused and ruin my day.

She’s an infinitely more rich version of depressed 19 year old white bitches from the Burbs.

God bless Lana Del Rey. Even though she worships Satan and whatever.

Kitten Ballad

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

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.

Yes, Daddy

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.

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.

Sex Is A Drug, Drugs Are My Sex

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.

What Might Have Been

I been playing the good ol’ “What If?™” game in my head recently. Yes, that game where you beat yourself up for past mistakes and wasted opportunities.

I am not one for regrets, but I sometimes can’t help but wonder if I missed out on something life changing. If you guessed earlier that this is gonna be about women.. you are correct, jerk.

What If?™ that beautiful woman you never properly had the sack to hit it off with was gonna lead you to the best next six months of your life?

What If?™ you were gonna finally find your wholesome monogamy worthy lady and you never scared her off by posting videos of yourself doing drugs and fucking hoes on your Instagram?

What If?™ the woman you sent your sausage pics to was actually really into you and you blew it because now she thinks you’re a perverted fuck?

What If?™ I could stop and enjoy life for a moment and not piss off every person I meet?

What If?™ I was just another boring normative kid? One that has zero personality, a mediocre girlfriend that doesn’t love him and friends who pretend to like him? Just another idiot living in the Matrix, plugged in and too delusional to realize how fucked up his life is?

What If?™

It’s 1:37 AM, probably not gonna be able to sleep and dream of perky blondes. As usual.

Fuck.