OK, so it's been about three months... 4. It's been 4 months since I posted a blog here. I'm not sure why it's been so long. I stopped visiting the site for a while. It figures. I pay for a whole year, and then stop coming around. It's like a gym membership. But never again. I shall be faithful evermore. And while I think of something witty to say, here's a blog that I posted on the vile MySpace that some found amusing (note that I know no one on this site could be accused of being prudish, but I didn't want to edit this. I find the first draft is funny enough):
For those of you who are offended by discussions of sex, masturbation, breasts, male or female sex organs, ischial protuberances (that means butts), or any combination thereof, I strongly suggest you go to the blog of the next person on your friends list. They are probably discussing something a little more important to the safety of the Universe, like what color they decided to die their hair this week or who is the hottest boy on the OC or something to that effect.
No seriously, run along. I don't want you here if your heart palpitates at reading the word penis and it's not because you like them a little too much. So go away. You'll be much happier reading Sally's blog about why you shouldn't tell your new boyfriend you love him until after the third date, anyway.
Go now!
I'm waiting...
Alright, now that the prudes are gone we can get down to business. While rubbing one out the other day I started thinking about past relationships, as men are prone to do while in the process of auto-erotic manipulation, and it occurred to me that there has been something missing from all of my previous girlfriends: fake tits.
I'm not trying to say that a woman has to undergo gross artificial augmentation of her mamarial appendages to be attractive. I just saying she has to surgically alter her milk sacks before I will be willing to spend the rest of my life with her. Because lets face it, a woman without flesh pillows bigger than my head is like a Mustang without a spoiler: I may get what I want out of her, but she ain't much to look at. Plus, do you know how difficult it is to boob-fuck a B-cup or even a C-cup if they're too far apart?
Oh, fuck off. I told you not to read this if you couldn't handle a discussion about mommy bags and fellatic members, didn't I. Now get the fuck out of here. If you think this is bad, how are you going to react when I start discussing anal sex?
Speaking of which, I don't like butt fucking. I feel like nobody really wins in that particular scenario. Filling out someone's rectum like a job application may seem like a lot of fun on paper. The reality of it is that you get crap on your wang. That ain't right. Some women have claimed to achieve the big O through the art of penile colonoscopy, but they're just trying to make their men feel good about themselves. No. For me it is meat curtains and meat curtains only. I don't need to use my wedding tackle to check a woman for gingivitis through her pooper.
I do however like overlarge gluteus maximi, and about this I am quite incapable of perjuring myself (see what I did there... well maybe you'll get it later). When I'm power washing my meat stick in a female's squish mitten in the canine style, I like to have something to both gaze upon and grab hold of. Sometimes I even like to give it a good thrashing, as though the woman had committed some indescression against me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you are distaff, have a large rump and hooties so fake they're simply gorgeous, and don't mind letting a fatass play with your clit, then send me a message and I'll get right back to you.
Well, back to punishing my porpoise with a purpose. Good night moon.
For those of you who are offended by discussions of sex, masturbation, breasts, male or female sex organs, ischial protuberances (that means butts), or any combination thereof, I strongly suggest you go to the blog of the next person on your friends list. They are probably discussing something a little more important to the safety of the Universe, like what color they decided to die their hair this week or who is the hottest boy on the OC or something to that effect.
No seriously, run along. I don't want you here if your heart palpitates at reading the word penis and it's not because you like them a little too much. So go away. You'll be much happier reading Sally's blog about why you shouldn't tell your new boyfriend you love him until after the third date, anyway.
Go now!
I'm waiting...
Alright, now that the prudes are gone we can get down to business. While rubbing one out the other day I started thinking about past relationships, as men are prone to do while in the process of auto-erotic manipulation, and it occurred to me that there has been something missing from all of my previous girlfriends: fake tits.
I'm not trying to say that a woman has to undergo gross artificial augmentation of her mamarial appendages to be attractive. I just saying she has to surgically alter her milk sacks before I will be willing to spend the rest of my life with her. Because lets face it, a woman without flesh pillows bigger than my head is like a Mustang without a spoiler: I may get what I want out of her, but she ain't much to look at. Plus, do you know how difficult it is to boob-fuck a B-cup or even a C-cup if they're too far apart?
Oh, fuck off. I told you not to read this if you couldn't handle a discussion about mommy bags and fellatic members, didn't I. Now get the fuck out of here. If you think this is bad, how are you going to react when I start discussing anal sex?
Speaking of which, I don't like butt fucking. I feel like nobody really wins in that particular scenario. Filling out someone's rectum like a job application may seem like a lot of fun on paper. The reality of it is that you get crap on your wang. That ain't right. Some women have claimed to achieve the big O through the art of penile colonoscopy, but they're just trying to make their men feel good about themselves. No. For me it is meat curtains and meat curtains only. I don't need to use my wedding tackle to check a woman for gingivitis through her pooper.
I do however like overlarge gluteus maximi, and about this I am quite incapable of perjuring myself (see what I did there... well maybe you'll get it later). When I'm power washing my meat stick in a female's squish mitten in the canine style, I like to have something to both gaze upon and grab hold of. Sometimes I even like to give it a good thrashing, as though the woman had committed some indescression against me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you are distaff, have a large rump and hooties so fake they're simply gorgeous, and don't mind letting a fatass play with your clit, then send me a message and I'll get right back to you.
Well, back to punishing my porpoise with a purpose. Good night moon.