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I Need to Fuck Someone, I Need to Post Something

16 Apr

sayla hut

I didn’t write this weekend. Instead I fucked an aborigine. The backs of her hands were burned. Giant nipples. Weird stuttered demarcation between regular and areola skin. A calico mole or meta-nipple coming off the top of one regular nipple. So much going on. Full untrimmed pussy but not too hairy. Not too tight either. IUD scratching my tip. Blasting in her with her on her stomach. As soon as I turned her over, felt her all squishy at that angle, I wanted to cum instantly. I did. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: Your Pussy Your Problem

11 Dec

txt-3

I was up at 6AM Saturday. Two missed calls and a text time stamped midnight. I have Astrid’s phone. She said to call you. It’s kind of an emergency.

I can’t get afraid girls are dead anymore. All I thought was: if you send a text like this you better explain, faggot. Some day I’ll wake up to a text that she’s dead. I accept this. But it better say: Astrid is dead. Not can you call me it’s kind of urgent. Don’t be a chick about it.

Also: your pussy your problem. If you’re high with her you’re fucking her. You broke it you bought it. Roll her on her stomach. I’ve done this 100 times. When she starts OD’ing she fights any attempt to save her life. She’ll bite you. Don’t be afraid to pop her one. It feels good, like you’re a detective in an old movie. If you really think it’s bad call 911. She’ll wake up suddenly. She wants you to think she’s dying but she doesn’t want bills. She wants you to hit her and rape her while she’s unconscious. Trust me. I met her on OKCupid too. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: Pussy is the Only Thing

10 Jul

girl cropped pussy

As I was washing shit off my dick with the citrus almond hand soap I tried to feel bad. I couldn’t. I tried to be afraid of HIV; scrutinized my shiny white shaft under the surgical bathroom light for blood. Raw anal sex with runaway meth hookers: frowned upon by the CDC. But I was intact. What’s more, the transmission rate for the– what’s the opposite of the “receptive partner”– the guy who puts his dick in never gets it. I tried to think about hanging myself like I have at least ten times a day for a month. Couldn’t. I tried to picture my dead dad, my dead friend, my dead cat looking down on me from heaven. Shaking their heads at the boy they loved doing self destructive shit. Their ghosts were gone. I was just there in the downstairs shower getting hard again, thinking about eight minutes ago. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: Toxic Masculinity

7 Oct

shame face

She’s still in the shower. I just learned Hepatitis C is not transmitted sexually. Per the Hepatitis C Association, which I may now have to join:

  1. Couples with one HCV positive partner had a 2.5 per cent transmission rate over 20 years of unprotected sex
  2. HCV is not found in semen or vaginal fluid
  3. Sexual transmission may be a factor among MSM (Men who have Sex with Men)

So you get Hep C if you fuck men. Your dick gets cut by his dry ass. His ass gets cut by your dry dick. But I fuck women. Therefore: call me sushi, I’m goin in raw. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: One More for the Road

30 May
photo(13)

Ardea alba

She was a thick black chick and her cunt smelled like celery. Thicker than her pictures but I’m so thirsty I’d fuck a possum carcass. We met by the duck pond. She was leaving town that night. Whatever showed up, I was fucking it.

Now my bed smells like celery. There are pustules on my crotch. Not near my dick. Way off to the left by my inguinal crease. If I get some infection, fine. As long as it’s something condoms wouldn’t have prevented. Because then it’s like: what are you gonna do. I promised myself I’d never wear a condom again. After the Philippines. I put my bare dick in whores, in a country where the average net worth is a chicken. Came back, paid extra for the full bore VD panel. Nothing. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: Will You Still Love Me

14 Sep

stacie 3

On Saturday we handed out MISSING flyers for Nikol’s son who ran away. Hundred and six degrees in the valley; heat-angry people think you’re trying to sell them something when you walk up and say excuse me. I’m a bad person. An old woman stiffarmed me and said “sorry.” I yelled after her: you’ll die alone, you leathery old cunt. Not interested, said a fat bald man. Like no one will ever be interested in you, you fat disgusting bald sack of shit. I’m in the right here, I reasoned. I’m trying to find a lost child for Christ’s sake. No one will take a swing at me because I’m tall and I lift weights a lot. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: The Heart Touching Magic of Cocaine Hydrochloride

1 Feb
image stolen from quantumleap-alsplace.com

image stolen from quantumleap-alsplace.com

I woke up and I was taking her from behind like a savage. She was black, dark black. Tattoos. I popped into consciousness out of blackness and my dick was pushing into her tight pussy and she was moaning. Eat your heart out, Quantum Leap.

She had flaked on our date. I showed up at the bar on time. Ten minutes later got the text that she forgot. Before that another girl “had her car towed” 20 minutes before our date. Before that a Manic Pixie Dream Girl emailed me 15 minutes before our date: her friends were throwing her a surprise party. But she forgot to put the “o” in “.com” so I showed up and sat there forever like a jerkoff. Manic Pixie Dream Cunt. Continue reading