They mean those down the middle girls, those black Lulu Lemon pants girls, bone structure like one of those computer averages of a hundred college girl faces, white ipod earphones, white iphone, small dog but not quite at the level of small dog carried in a bag, talking about yoga, talking about if I get this pilot, if I get that pilot; they never get the pilot. They did a 3 episode arc playing the older sister on a Nick for Teens show maybe; they showed every member of the nationwide staff of Ponderosa Steakhouse how to sanitize the ranch dressing bin at the salad bar in an “industrial;” they may believe in astrology, they may actually be religious, they were the prettiest girl in Council Bluffs Iowa. Or they are the daughter of a model who famously advertised orange flavor Tic Tacs in the 80′s and the leathery head of television talent at William Morris whose face is like a Nazi propaganda poster but somehow she won the coin toss and is beautiful; her sister was not so lucky. The down the middle girl you think you can meet in yoga class but you can’t, you think you can meet in acting class but you can’t, you think you can meet her at a bar in the club at the dog park but it so thoroughly pointless to pursue her that you should think of her as bait for an ambush. She has a boyfriend, and she never does not have a boyfriend, and up to a certain age it’s gonna be the bartender at La Poubelle and after that it’s gonna be the aspiring head of television talent at William Morris who gets her a 7 out of 10 on The CW, or another actor, or some comedian who will break out at about the same level as maybe Adam Scott in 2 or 3 years; for now she has seen his Funny or Die video with the hundred thousand views or his quirky auto insurance commercial and that’s enough. If you’re the guy who can get these girls you know it already. If you don’t, you have no shot and never will. Tend bar or get famous.
Edit: I should acknowledge this video‘s existence because they also mention Lulu Lemon pants. I found it stupid but your mileage may vary.
Look at that. Fat floppy Mexican teenage ass in yoga pants. Some men would be appalled by this, but I want to know what that ass looks like naked.
My buddy who travels around the world fucking whores says at some point you get sick of fucking. You’re not horny and you don’t want to cum but you keep buying three dollar malnourished Cambodians anyway because you just want to see what your dick looks like going in a new one. You’re just curious.
That’s the deeper difference between women and men, I think. Not how horny one or the other is but that chimplike curiosity, or the lack of it. Women never see your ass and think what kind of panties is he wearing. They never summon Jedi concentration to envisage a black strip of thong fabric rubbing against a little puckered pink butthole. Does she have a hairy pussy, a waxed pussy, a shaved pussy, an innie, an outie; is it pink, is it dark– hard to guess; she has dark hair green eyes. Continue reading
Image stolen from CBS News, where I assume it was also used in a story on squirting.
Some time in the last five years every woman started bragging that she could squirt. If you hit my G spot with your fingers while I’m in a seated position and Venus is in the Third House of Capricorn… I will squirt all over the place. Look what a libertine I am, she says. And I know when I hear it exactly what to avoid. I hate doing laundry.
It’s bragging on their part, but also an invitation to do something you can brag about. Dude, she squirted all over the place, you will say, heralding your status as a sex god.
I used to care about being “good in bed.” About whether a woman was satisfied. About engaging in hours of elaborate foreplay and mood lighting and appropriate drugs and music. Back in college. Girls talk to each other about that stuff, men would say. They’re gonna hear that you’re a sex god and come get some of that too. Continue reading
The girl in this story looks somewhat like adult film performer Christine Young.
I can’t stop fucking looking at this woman and I can’t stop being aware of what a fucking dork I must look like, resting my face awkwardly in my fingers. It is extremely uncomfortable but I can’t stop doing it. Because she’ll know I stopped doing it because I was afraid she would think I’m a dork. I can’t make eye contact but I can’t look away so instead I give her this squinty side-eye. And she knows, she knows, that I am supremely unworthy to ejaculate into her fertile young womb.
If I had a huge wang it wouldn’t be like this. I would just shoot her a glance that implied “hey, I have a huge wang.” I know I’m a jittery weirdo in a coffee shop at noon on a weekday but my member is unusually thick and lengthy. Therefore, nothing else matters. She could smell it on me. The smell of my wang. Her mind would try to resist but her loins would be inflamed by some pheromone and she would have to give me doe eyes. She would be forced to gesture that I follow her into the bathroom where she would “present” to me, bending over against the cardboard ass gasket dispenser upon which somebody has sharpied “Free Cowboy Hats.” Her cooch would pucker wetly in anticipation and I would slowly drive my impossibly thick fleshy snake into her hot meat tunnel and fill her with thick spurts of my manly seed. She would convulse, satisfied that I had given her a son who would also have a huge wang. We would shake hands, businesslike, and part company. Instead I look for something in my tea.
Nikol’s right. I am an asshole for emailing (REDACTED)’s naked pictures to a scummy dude in exchange for naked pictures of a Chinese prostitute.
But– how are you going to have naked pictures of a girl and not show them to other guys? Someone tell me, because I have never once heard of it happening. A guy having naked pictures of his girlfriend and discreetly keeping them in his private possession and never showing them to anybody. Just wistfully jacking off to them once in a while after they break up. Maybe if the girl was fiendishly ugly. Continue reading
A woman is flying from back East to visit me. A fan. She is fucking crazy, but I’m having her come out anyway. I need it that bad. Plus, Bukowski did it. Had girls fly out to fuck him for a couple days. He also killed a guy with a typewriter and slept on garbage cans– should I do that shit too? But if you write a couple hundred thousand words about fucking fat chicks and jerking off you start to get emails. Girls asking after your impotent, prematurely ejaculating micropenis. It can’t be that small, can it? They don’t want the image to interfere with some fantasy they have. Girls read about your emotional and sometimes physical abuse of other women and think: do me next! Continue reading
Damn, this girl is really pretty. Which means she’s dating some guy in a band. Some guy with a job. Some guy with a smaller nose and a bigger dick. Some guy who is more confident. Some guy who would go talk to her at a party. Or perhaps this selfsame coffee shop. She sits there reading wishing a not bad looking guy would talk to her and one day one of them did and now he’s dating her. Listening to her discuss her boring schoolbooks, yes, but also fucking her. White skin black hair. Like she ought to be in a Frazetta painting wrapped around some barbarian’s thighs as he lofts a claymore over a dragon’s corpse, its eyes still glowing. Her fingers digging into the meat of your back. She notices the mass you have added to your rear deltoids. A tough muscle to isolate but you took care to hit it hard and now she notices. Her sweaty pussy on a hot day. She’s maybe 24. Young enough to have that glow, but an adult. Someone has her. Not you. You should have bought an amp and got in a band. Whatever. Her shoes are stupid.
She opened the door; it was one of those courtyard Days Inn type hotels where they have a walkway outside and all the rooms face the parking lot. She was naked. Muttering to herself. My buddy, Greg, asked me if I wanted to go first or second. I said second. I like to watch people fuck. Plus I was drunk as shit and had beat off three times that afternoon; I would need the extra steam to get a boner.
She was a tiny girl, looked Italian or something. Really young face, that was her thing. Must get a lot of guys who want to fuck little girls. Except her tits were pancaked out from giving suck. She kept talking, chattering, murmuring uh huh uh huh uh huh over and over back in her palate, like she was trying to cough a hair out of her throat. Continue reading
I’d been jerking it to big asses. Specifically, white women, pale skinned white women, with large round asses, bent over in panties shaking them into the camera. Because of one video I saw months ago and could never find again. A white girl in blue underwear bent over doing a cute dance. For some reason it gave me that urgent reflex boner you get right before you die. That praying mantis boner that makes a hanged man ejaculate.
I’d been searching and searching for the clip but it was something I’d jerked it to at work; I couldn’t remember the search terms that brought me to it by accident or even the site. So I’d spent hours on various porn sites entering every word that seemed slightly germane in every combination, like a guy trying to crack a safe by spinning the dial to random numbers. Big butt chubby butt big ass tease panties blue panties ginger white girl bent over… onion booty chubby booty PAWG panties tease… there was similar stuff, but not the one. That perfect shard of the Jerk Crystal. The porn so hot you can jerk off to the memory of jerking off to it. That ass. Continue reading
A GIRL I’VE BEEN CORRESPONDING WITH ON THE INTERNET WHO WANTS TO VISIT ME FROM OUT OF TOWN writes:
can you write a thing of all the things you’ve fantasized about doing to/with/on/in/etc me?
or am i not allowed to see that yet
because that’d be entertaining
I mean: I want to fuck you. That’s pretty much it. You know what fucking is like. The dick goes in the hole. Maybe I’ll put your wrists behind your head but I’m not gonna choke you or any of that shit on the first date. My cat will probably come in the sliding door I’ve left open, walk in the room, and meow. We’ll have a little chuckle. The mood will be ruined. I will continue shuffling my flagging erection into you in a workmanlike manner but I won’t be able to cum. I’ll jokingly apologize and get up and get more booze. Give the cat a can of food. Then you’ll stand behind me as I read shit on reddit. We’ll laugh but you’ll be thinking: what the fuck? This guy could have my wet young pussy and he wants to watch Russian dash cam videos? I’ll be thinking: who cares. I fucked her. Check. Now I can not think about it for a while. Also, unlike these World Star Hip Hop fights, the fucking Russians know how to break it up with a left occasionally. Black guys it’s just right right right right right. Continue reading