image stolen from wikipedia
An unattractive woman I don’t like doesn’t want to see me again. I’m pissed. Because she has a perfect pussy.
All I need is one asset. Good face, nice body, nice pussy, nice intellect. Sense of humor, sense of adventure, an interest in Lake Tanganyika cichlids– PICK ONE. Well forget what you can take, my sponsor tells me. Focus on what you give. I got: OK face nice body nice intellect. Sense of humor sense of adventure interest in Lake Tanganyika cichlids. Well read. Minor internet fame, albeit among woman haters. I can play guitar. I can draw. My pecs have a zipper down the middle. My inguinal crease is so cut that when I take a shit a vein pops above my pubis. I can cook. I have a nice place next to a park. Down the street is another park with waterfowl and I can identify them. I know something of their lifestyles. Perhaps this will be of interest. My hair has perfect gray. I’m not short. Not bald. I don’t have big cock but it’s not… the situation isn’t quite clinical. I’m a good guy. Good to be around. People who know me love me. Still. This fat cunt with the one long nipple hair can’t sent me a god damn text back. And I’m too old to shoot up a school so I just have to take it.
I’m sorry but I have to leave early, she tells me. Client in Ventura.
The old man sends a car. When she gets there he prepares a bath with candles. She bathes alone. He busies himself. Sneaks peeks but mostly leaves her be. When she gets out he’ll massage her for a long time. Fleetwood Mac on his fancy stereo. Take her to dinner. Nicest place in town. A glass of wine at home and the car takes her back to L.A. Thousand dollars in her account.
They don’t fuck. Don’t even kiss. He’s just lonely.
She met him on OKCupid, too.
If you told me you want me as your boyfriend, I’d be happy. If I could tell you I want you as my girlfriend, I’d do it. But that would make you leave. Find other men. My holding back is the only way you want me. I have to have other girls to keep you.
Pussy is a corporation. I’m an employee. A corporation gives as little as it can until it’s forced to give more to keep you. How well you do your job doesn’t matter. It’s barely considered. What matters is how much others want to poach you. Whether you get kept and what you get paid depends only on leverage.
She had big tits and she was studying to be a mortician. Her OKCupid was all about death. Guatemalan I think. She wouldn’t fuck on the first date. I fingerfucked her in her car instead. A black Camry or something with a tan or gray interior. Pink panties.
I fucked her on the second date and then a couple more times until we drifted apart. Last I heard from her she was getting married to another tall skinny white man with a large broken nose. He’s into guns.
I still jerk off to her occasionally. The fantasy is that I run into her at the Cha Cha Lounge. Fuck her on top of the dumpster in back. Either she’s sitting on it facing me with legs spread open or she’s bent over it. More the former probably, because of the tits. She wants to get pregnant but it isn’t happening with the husband or she doesn’t want it to, and she tells me to cum in her, to give her a baby because I look like him and he won’t notice.
This is from 3 dates 4 years ago. You fuck 200 girls but get all your jerk mileage from the same five women. Why is she the one that sticks. Why are the others written in water. Which one am I to them.
image stolen from rachelcooksthai.com
We were at dinner. And how’s your dating life, she asked. Well if I like them they don’t like me. If they like me I don’t like them. If they’re pretty they won’t fuck me. If they’re ugly they will. I spend my hours trying to find the prettiest woman who’s just ugly enough to fuck me. I can tell my worth from where the needle lands. But let’s be honest: I’ll fuck anything that moves; I’m an animal; I’ll jerk it to porn where the women look like something they pulled out of the Mariana Trench so why not fuck them in real life. Four months since you left me. I’ve been trying to replace you the whole time. One girl came close; she was 22. Her face wasn’t like yours but she had big tits. She left me too. I was hurting from you and I tried to fix it and now I’m hurting from both of you and the evidence keeps piling up that I’m unlovable. Why won’t you love me. What is wrong with me. I mean, my face, but you always said I was hot– Asian women can’t tell when white men are ugly. And vice versa. One of the few blessings God gave us, in dating. Otherwise, whether we’re loved is dictated by the shape of our skull. Continue reading
Asian girl keeps smiling at me and then cracking up. She wants the dick. I could go over and talk to her. But in the 15 yard walk over I’d suddenly become unattractive. The act of speaking to her makes me beneath her. Women don’t want the kind of guy who comes up to them. They want the kind of guy they come up to and they never come up to anyone.
Oh well. What would I want from her anyway. I just want her to bend over and present so I could blast prematurely in her ovulating pussy. Then for her to disappear and raise my mutt bastard without ever contacting me again. What are the odds.
She has acne but she’s wearing florescent salmon dolphin shorts and the leg flops open and you can see her toothpaste colored panties. You can tell she has a fat pussy. Her eyes look like she’s thinking about something stupid. The eyes of a person who keeps track of the fight between Azalea Banks and Iggy Azalea. But no– don’t judge people. How do you know what she’s like. Maybe she’s your future wife. Go over there dude. Or maybe go home and shotgun your nuts off. Then you could think about something else.
She had a flappy pussy and her face was like a baby bird. Her teeth. The incisors pinched in. Modern people have too many teeth for the jaw. We’re meant to lose them. Get clocked by some other proto-hominid or drop one gnawing a hyena bone. The teeth get crowded; some of them fold in and go half sideways. With her it was the incisors. She let the cat in the bedroom when we fucked. She wasn’t that funny. She was on hormonal birth control and never felt anything. I love her I miss her. She is a cunt with no soul. Come back to me.
She was a yuppie whose job was her life; she was hired by an old perv to be a hot woman and her hotness was waning; she had good skin but you found out later it was because she sandblasted it; you caught her talking once with a coven of other girls about Retin-A, abrasives, lotions you have to get from overseas. She would come in in the morning and her face smelled like fruit. She was always putting something on her face, trying to hold it back.
She had a funny ass and she wore stupid pants and you were so unsure of yourself you could never relax around her. She was a cunt with no soul and come back to me come back to me. Come back to me. Continue reading