I Can’t Tonight But How about Tuesday, She Says

8 Feb

Well no. I’m talking to you because you seem like you fuck fast. I fucked my ex. She only hurts me. I thought it would make it better to have another girl taste her cunt juice on me. The air next to me feels howlingly empty without her body in it. So I do not want to go out with you Tuesday. There is no Tuesday. There is no tomorrow. No later. There is now. You can fuck me now or never see me, and if I were you, 38 years old, I would take what you can get.

Let me know your number if you’re down.

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Protected: One Year of Sobriety

7 Feb

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The Jerk at the End of a 7 Day Nofap

6 Feb

Many suitors, but I chose “Surprise for Sleeping Sister.” A woman lays on her stomach. You mostly see her ass in multicolored panties. A man strokes his angry red penis for 90 seconds. Squeezes a halfhearted load in her ass crack. She does not wake. You can hear a Family Guy episode in the background. Mr. Spock wins the lottery and tells the rest of the Enterprise to go fuck themselves. McFarlane doesn’t try to sound like Spock. The niggardly load coughed up onto the sister’s plump ass cheeks barely registers. It will be harmlessly absorbed into fabric and unnoticed. There will be no surprise. Continue reading →

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Protected: Coffee Shop Diary: First World Problems

5 Feb

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Protected: Slayer

4 Feb

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Protected: Philippines Diary: Shadow of a Tear

3 Feb

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Protected: Park Diary: Normal Human Interaction

2 Feb

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Diary: Bright Shiny Morning

1 Feb

(Note: the title of this piece is stolen from one of James Frey’s fake memoirs)

All right, good morning. My boss had a migraine today. This means she’s leaving the company. My job will go away. Bills will pile up and up. I will never have money, never have a wife, children. I’ll die alone. I will trip on a crack in the sidewalk and break my jaw and walk around with a cracked mandible half hanging off my skull and swelling like plastic grocery bags full of lard. My penis will shrink and my balls will grow and I’ll be raped and cut to pieces in the street but I won’t die. I’ll live and live while the pigeons peck at my eyes. I will never feel better. A clown will be there and he will laugh at me.

My anal abscess will come back. I will be broke. I will not get unemployment. I will not get another job. Who would hire a man with an infected ass. I will never travel, never fall in love, never again have a girl stroke my back with her hot palm, kiss my ear. No more Isla in her little panties. I’ll never write anything good. The cat will die. My ass. Did I mention my ass. The bills and tickets and taxes will stack up and the city of Los Angeles will send a mounted death squad to my home to take my cock as payment. I will shrink, turn ugly, I will be a retarded Stephen Hawking; I’ll live in a mechanized wheelchair and shit in a bag that’s attached to me by a plastic hose and my penis will break out in boils and everyone will see it and know. The Xbox will break. The car will break, fuck man– my ass really… it doesn’t quite hurt yet, it just feels like there’s a tooth in it. A molar. I did eat hot sauce and Brussels sprouts last night. Maybe that’s the issue.

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Maria

31 Jan

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.

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Protected: Coffee Shop Diary: An Armpit

31 Jan

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