Chronic Ruination

so why even bother trying to use it?!!!

Why have I had  this conversation, it seems like,  over and over again since Summer came?!!   It’s like these little dick boys think that the hot weather will make it seem bigger or something.

I  was hanging out with some girls by the pool that I’m ok with yesterday afternoon.  I wouldn’t call them friends because I’d have to be gone on all kinds of stuff to be seen with them out in public.  You know the type, ghetto Asians and Indians(real ones, not the Chris Columbus appointed ones like me).

The types that fuck a black guy, start thinking they’re Nicole Scherzinger or something, then decide to activate their ghetto card.  The types that have been sheltered all their lives then finally come to college and fuck EVERYTHING in sight just because a guy  gave them conversation.  Most of them are what my new dick on demand guy, J.B calls seasonal.  They only hookup with athletes and only when that particular athlete’s sport is in season.

We were all talking about the new guy who works at the bar that’s a few blocks down.  Two of them have hooked up with him….or attempted to.   Sex only counts if you actually feel something right?!!  Keep reading and you’ll find out why these girls aren’t counting him on the list of guys they’ve done.

Let’s call him Nick.  Nick is 28, your typical guido type.  He works the door and then bartends if it gets busy and they’re short staffed.  If he’s working the door, he  doesn’t card if you’re cute.    He just started working there this summer and he’s pretty much almost famous… in a bad way

I’d gotten fair warning from Lex the last time she was here.  She knew about him before anyone else did.  He got 2 fake numbers from me, then gave up.  Guys like him are a waste of an outfit.  He’s cute but short and I’m not even looking at guys under 6′0 anymore.  Oh and he tries to hook up with EVERYONE.

No surprise there, that’s what guys who work at bars do. My question is why try to hook up with every girl in sight when more than half of the  under 130 lb set knows that you’re a 4 incher?!!!  He just wants girls to know how useless he is.  It’s so bad that when I was down there the other night, he walks by kisses this girl on the cheek then goes off to the back.   As soon as he walks away, the girl looked at her friend, held up her pinky and laughed. So did a few other girls who weren’t with them; they knew too!!

Like I said, it’s like they think that just because it’s summer, the heat and humidity combo might make it seem just a little bigger.  Tiny dick boys are funny.  Speaking of…

Over the weekend when I wasn’t dealing with rosie’s slight oversight, I got a hilarious call on my cheating girlfriend EXperience line.  We’re going to call him micromachine mike. All of mike’s problems stem from the fact that his stem is a little slow to develop.  Well, maybe slow to develop isn’t such  an accurate description…

At 41, I think mike’s little friend is probably only going to get smaller. The sad thing is that he’s a doctor!!!  You’d think he could find a cure or something for his little disability!  I think I’m still expecting too much.  He could snort extendz and have a penis prosperity prayer session with the Pope, Billy Graham, the Dali Lama and whoever those Muslim guys look up to.  The little guy still isn’t going to hover too many nanometers over that 4 inch mark.

Guys like that have to take what they can get.  He should have settled down with some plain little chemistry major from undergrad, but nooooo.  He had to build up a very nice life only to meet some woman 11 years younger than he is with a kid 29 years younger than he is who is basically treating him according to his worth in inches. Now you guys do all of the math.

he’s getting married to her soon, she has a boyfriend that is a regular overnight guest in their home.  mike even fluffs and cleans for them.  Oh, and he does their laundry too!!  It goes without saying that she keeps him in chastity, but the best part is that he’s neutered too!!  The wife-to-be made him get the snip, I wonder if she made him wear an Elizabethan collar too.  Well it couldn’t be any worse than the other things she makes him wear, not that they aren’t pretty things of course :).

Now, I was feeling a little diplomatic while he was pouring out his heart to me so I asked him how all of that makes him feel.  He had this glazed over tone to his voice tinged with pure bliss when he told me,

I’ve never really been able to please a woman anyway, so this takes a lot of pressure off of me.

I think he’s onto something, if you don’t have the equipment, why use it  at all?  It’s like swiping your card when you know it’s maxed out.  Speaking of which, she maxes out his cards on a regular basis and what does he do?  Pays them off like a good little neutered boy.

So if any of you “real men” are reading this and wondering what the hell is wrong with this guy.  My answer is absolutely nothing!  He’s smart.  When the odds aren’t in your favor, and you reach for the topshelf item, you’d better be prepared to have everything around it to come falling down!!  mike’s been prepared.  Now the question is, if you’re under 6 inches but want a topshelf girl, what are you going to do to be prepared?  Let’s talk about your options…

Click the cheating girlfriend EXperience button on the sidebar.  You might get 3 free femdom phone sex minutes if you’re new to Niteflirt.

I graduated high school with a 4.0, 2140 on the SAT, 32 on the ACT.  I’m 96 hours into one of my degrees and 57 into the other with a 3.8 and 4.0 in each respectively.  Thanks to genetics and a hypervigiliant team consisting of my grandmother and aunts, I’m more than a little intelligent.

Other experiences and “achievements” have made  me smart. There’s a gulf of a difference between being intelligent and being smart.  I’ve got my Mom to thank indirectly for making sure that I’m smart.

I’m here to talk about things that I just don’t get.

I just don’t understand the inability of some people to compartmentalize. How can a person not keep their emotions seperate from their needs and basic drives?

For example,  let’s talk about rosie.  I’ve mentioned rosie previously in my wordpress.com blog that got TOS’d and briefly in this one.   rosie is a holdover from a few months in my life that could have basically ruined the rest of it.

I got involved with a guy who considered himself a male dom.  I know I know…that’s like saying I did yoga on Wii Fit with Santa Claus and afterward we talked about Paris Hilton being a valued member of society while eating turkish delight.  Some things just cannot happen in this reality as we know it.

I’m going out on a limb here but I’m sure more than 5 handfuls of people will agree with me when I say that, for the most part,  there’s absolutely NO SUCH THING AS  A MALE DOM!!!!!

I will shout that from the rooftops, until there’s nothing left of my vocal cords.  I really don’t believe in absolute truths, but that is one of mine and it’s rosie’s too.

I hate to kill the fantasy a few of you may be forming in your heads of a smartass, bitchy hottie living on the reservation and enjoying the best of life on the backs of weak, desire-driven males, but that’s not how things are.  I grew up EVERYWHERE.

I spent some key years in the South, but I’ve lived in every region of the country.  Most of my family is upper Middle-Class by pre-George W. Bush economic standards, at least the part I know.   My father died during my Tickle Me Elmo obsession days.  I remember more about Tickle Me Elmo than I do him.

No big deal, his mom, sisters and aunts made sure that I knew where I could go in life and encouraged me to be nothing but the absolute best I could be.  They felt they  had to work in spite of my mom whose idea of a great life for me was pushing me into pageants and every single modeling or bit acting gig she came across.

The money I’d made modeling as a kid exceeded the  “college fund” purpose that my mom used as her battle shield whenever anyone else in my family told her that it probably wasn’t the best idea for me.

It really wasn’t the Oprah topic they were making it out to be.

I had ALOT of fun as a kid.  We moved around a lot so I could be close to whatever agent/agency was getting me the most work. Contrary to popular belief, that’s not a bad thing for every kid.  I learned a lot about people; social skills that you can’t get spending grades pre-K through 12 in the same town, in the same school with the same people.  Whenever I had to move, friends weren’t the problem.

I always had the best clothes(mostly freebies and discounted stuff I’d get as partial compensation or bonuses for some jobs) and the cool mom. She never had a stable career because she was busy trying to give me one.  She worked odd jobs doing event planning, or being a PA.  She always did grunt work but still managed to be fabulous in every way imaginable.  She even managed to have a now Z-list former kid actor come hang out with my “friends” for my 10th-birthday for like 15 minutes. Making friends wasn’t ever a problem;  overly concerned teachers and other parents were.

At  school, I’d want to do things on my own in my own time.  I hated and still hate being taught.  I love learning/discovering things on my own.  That’s not valued in any school system in America so I butted heads with a lot of the teachers, administrators, and  nosy, xanax-driven moms who made cupcakes for the class.

I answered all their questions about my life and my mom the same way they asked them…rudely. My behavior at school caused a lot of problems between my cool Mom and I.   All of a sudden she wasn’t cool anymore to me because she didn’t have hair like that chick from Friends and  she bought her cupcakes from pastry shops.  It’s not like she didn’t try in her own little way.

Her thing on Friday nights,  if I didn’t have to be up too early the next morning, was to try and make up for all of the things I’d accused her during the week of not trying hard enough to do.  She’d get these huge cupcakes and we’d split one followed by a biotin to boost our metabolisms to handle all the fat and the sugar with fat ambition.Then  we’d stay up  to watch Style with Elsa Klensch on CNN .

She didn’t want me to be like the Ambers, Haleys, and Chloes who weren’t told that the carbs you eat today will be the ones that say hi to you from their new home around your hips tomorrow.  I hated her for that, but I loved her because the Ambers, Haleys and Chloes all told me how lucky I was to have such an awesome mom.

Long story short, work for me dried up around the same time my crush on John Galliano fizzled out when I learned what gay meant.   We moved to Mississippi because her side of the family lives on the coast and she sold it to me by telling we’d live by a beach.  Beach….whatever..it’s the dirtiest part of the Gulf of Mexico.   I hated it. I hated the people, hated the stifiling heat and the stifling overall way of life.  So did mom.  We took it out on each other for about 3 years then I legally emancipated myself from her.  Kiddie divorce.  I went to go hang out with an older cousin that summer in N.O..big mistake :).

Family intervened and I went to live with one of my grandmother’s sisters in Tennessee.  I’ll call her Aunt L.

Aunt L is very Catholic and  very no nonsense.  She’s  very in your face and up your ass all at the same time. She’s the type of person that can walk into a room and instantly make it seem as if 75% of the oxygen is all hers and you’d better have a good reason why you need a portion of the remaining 25%. Aunt L is a straight shooter and, to her, diplomacy is a waste of time.  My mom hated her and the feeling was mutual.  So any sort of relationship that my mother and I could have possibly had that wasn’t severed by the courts was blown to hell the second I went to live with Aunt L.

Within the first week, I was enrolled in Catholic school and the rest of my summer was dedicated to Kaplan practice tests and volunteering at the child care center of a battered women’s shelter.   I had zero time to myself, zero privacy.

Things just became worse when school started. She’s very active at the Church she made me attend with her and made sure that all of the people at the school I attended knew who she was and knew who I was.  We were at the mall a Sunday afternoon a few weeks into September of that year when she just got this huge stroke of genius that I looked athletic and should find some sort of sport to do.  She bought me a bunch of soffe shorts, some running flats, a pair of cross trainers and that following week I was on the cross-country team.   It was like she knew about the clove habit I’d picked up at 14 and she was trying to beat it out of me in her own way.  The following spring, I was on on the track team too.

So there I was, finally a “regular” kid.   Aunt L was patting herself on the back to anyone would listen.  I was grateful, but miserable.  Quiet, different kids in school caught absolute hell from my “friends” and I.  I needed an outlet and they  were it.  Until….

My senior year, I started hanging out with Aunt L’s daughter…she was 22 at the time.  She’d just finished up her degree and moved back to be closer to home.  She had her own place and hanging with her was the only opportunity I had to stay out past 10pm.

My cousin, I’ll call her Kate,  is everything her mom had raised her to be on the outside.  As soon as she’d pick me up from her mom’s house for a weekend, totally different story!!  She’d get me into bars, clubs, whatever I wanted to do.  She had a lot of friends that were kind of decent indie musicians/bands in the area so that was always cool.  I went to live with her in March of my senior year.  No real argument from Aunt L, she knew Kate was a “good” girl.

Yep, good girl…

Instead of my senior prom, I went with her to Coachella.  It sucked, but I rolled for the first time while I was out there and that sort of made up for it.  The rest of my time with with her is like a big blur.

I’d graduated and was just having a blast before I started college in the fall.  Life was good.  We had a late night after we got back in from doing the bar thing one night.  The house was full of people, all ages, races, whatever. She was gone and couldn’t drive so while I drove us back home, she got on her cell and called just about everyone in her phone.   The night was crazy.   Kate was crazy.  We got into huge fight because I started telling a bunch of people they had to leave because her neighbor came over to complain about the noise twice and was going to call the police.  I was 17, and there was a lot of green, pills, and a lot of other factors that would have sent a lot of people, including Kate to jail that night.

One of the guys there  calmed her down enough and helped get the situation at the house under control.   Most of the people had gone, Kate was officially passed out and I’m sitting on the couch, hoping that the guy who thinks he saved the day would take his cue and ride off into the sunset so I could go to bed.  He was really tall, 6′5″,  with that weird,  pale olive skin that only looks right after 5 or more hours in the sun.   He didn’t leave.  He didn’t say anything, he just sat there.  I didnt want to just go to sleep with this guy sitting there so I asked him his name.  He told me and then just starts talking non-stop afterwards.  I’m going to call him Chris.  We talked about everything from politics, to sex to cartoons.  He told me he was 28 and that he was going to college in the fall, just like I was…same school and everything.   I asked him what he was studying, he  just said he was getting a liberal arts degree.  Nice and ambiguous.

The gray in his hair and in most of his answers to my questions should have let me know that he wasn’t exactly a boy scout.

Longer story short…he turns out to be the weird kind of cool that works for me.  I think it was mostly because Kate and I were getting on each other nerves more and more everyday and she was tired of “babysitting”.  Chris let me come live with him.

As soon as he moved me in, things went downhill pretty fast.  It turns out he was actually in his 40s. It turns out he was  a male who had done some obscure Euro porn and was basically what amounts to an escort who styles himself as a “professional” male dom.   He was a burnout,  man-whore mama’s boy with horrible anxiety and OCD.  The dom act helped him cope I guess. Oh, and he wasn’t a student studying “liberal arts”.  I got sucked into his bullshit.  A lot of people got sucked into his bullshit, including rosie.

rosie was just a not so innocent 40-something.  A lobbyist with a VERY recognizable, sucessful firm and family man. A church-going,  good ol’ boy on the ouside; inside he’s a godless person in search of God via sex workers,  sex toys and expensive lingerie shipped to random P.O. boxes and kept safely  in storage 50 miles away from the wife and kid.

rosie found her way into our mess, because the dommes/girls weren’t making the HIM still left inside feel ashamed and disgusting enough for the things that the she inside  had done and stll  wanted to do.  rosie  sought out a guy like Chris in an attempt to finally get rid of the HIM and allow the her to live more freely.

I was  part of the not so safe stuff that rosie ended up doing.  rosie was part of me being stuck.  I was too seduced by being finally free from either not being free enough or entirely too free to see that I wasn’t any kind of free.  I was just stuck in every way anyone could imagine.  rosie was too.  Chris had a lot of stuff to hold over both of our heads.  As much of a blackmail slut rosie is, it wasn’t the “fun” kind.  So we helped each other out of a bad situation.   That’s why we’re still stuck with one another in some way.

rosie helped me to transfer into one of the BEST colleges.  I finally have a life that’s what I want for the most part.  I have most of everything I could possibly want.  Why do I still want more and have to have more though?   Why does rosie still want and expect more from me?

Why can’t rosie understand that when I ask for a Macbook Air, that doesn’t translate to just sending me some regular Toshiba piece of garbage that’s on sale and that will probably die in a month?

Why can’t rosie understand why I uploaded a bunch of pics to the  piece of shit laptop.  Nothing major, just commemorations of her favorite things. Wearing MAC Lady Danger lipstick, her face covered in jizz , and the offending monster cock still in her hand  inches away from that gaping, grinning overused fuck hole in her face.

Why can’t rosie understand why I’m going to  dispose of/lose that piece of garbage in the middle of a very highly trafficked Barnes and Noble later on this evening?

Now that presents 2 sets of problems:

Number 1: I’m not going to have a laptop for a huge assignment I have to do for my internship on Tuesday, playing with random pervs, to blog, or to compulsively check facebook unless rosie comes through in the right way.

Number 2:  Someone is going to be a good samaritan, find that laptop, and see that all the software registration information has been switched to rosie’s real info.  I don’t even have to go into the deal with pictures.

This is all because rosie can’t compartmentalize her emotions from her drives.  I think she’s a little hurt because she’s been getting what she begged me for a year ago.  She thought she was giving me some sort of twisted,passive-aggressive, father-figure style tough love by not getting me the MacBook I wanted because I didn’t plan anything for our anniversary today.  Sorry babes, my love is tougher.  She forgot that no matter what, beneath everything she’s just a cocksucker who’s not man enough to be a fag all by herself.    She’s just a faggot, cum slurping whore who will ALWAYS come groveling back to give me what I want anyway in all respects, Now she’s going to have to suffer for thinking her wants and needs matter more than mine.  So sad.

Luv ya rosie, happy anniversary!!!

MUAH!

FORCED BI ME, CRAVE COCK

SWALLOW, GAG, SPIT, REPEAT

RISK DIVORCE, CRAIG’D!!!

I hate haiku…gayness!!!   Senryü is more my thing.   It’s 17 syllables or less about a situation or an incident. It usually offers some insight into the human condition; lame assed reference to nature not included.  This one is for my favorite fag,  rosie.

For all of you GLAAD members out there wringing your hands and gnashing your teeth in ACLU-approved mental anguish, fag is a term of endearment for my 40-something “girlfriend”.  I “helped”  rosie suck  78 other guys off since last summer.    You would think that someone as helpful as I am deserves to have her best girlfriend come over and do some much needed cleaning right?   Apparently rosie thinks it’s more important to spend “a quiet day with  M______”.  Now she did offer to pay her cleaning lady to come over and do it, but I don’t want some stranger.  I want someone who  I KNOW will do a good job.

rosie’s 1 year anniversary with me is coming up on July 27.  Coincidentally, rosie’s wedding anniversary is on July 28th…wow!   Just think about that time frame people.  Some people might think that maybe I planned it that way so that rosie wouldn’t have any problems remembering her most important date.  Those same  people might think that a responsible-by-day “girl” like rosie is being a little too careless with the schedule I gave her.

Consider the sentryü part of your pre-anniversary present,  rosie  ;).  You’ll make it up to me.   I’m not accepting any calls, emails or texts from you.  This is the last warning. I’ve emailed a suggestion to u that will make everything better, for both of us.  Make everything right and I won’t play fill in the blank with wife #2’s name or any of the other little things that I plan on doing mentioned in the email.  Wife #3 may not be so easy to come by with a ruined reputation, alimony and a Princess to pay for.  Just a thought :)  MUAHZ!!

Good news!  Spring semester 2008 is officially two weeks behind me!!!  As most of my little domination phone sex bitches know, that means I’m available without having to necessarily arrange a call.   Check out the about me section of my page to see the days and times I’m around  each week.

Bad news…

My best friend with benefits/sometimes roommate left this morning to go back home for the summer.  I love my “Lex”; she such a hot little bitch.  Seriously,  it’s like fucking the 5′8″,  blonde,green-eyed version of myself. I’m not above admiting that I  like certain people and want them around me simply because they serve  as a reference point for some of the things I love about myself.

Yes, I’m a girl-prick for saying something like that.  No, I sleep at night just fine and somehow manage to drop a dollar or two in the Salvation Army kettles around the holidays too. She’s the best friend I’ve probably ever had but I do have a few issues with her.

She swears we’re the same size, when she’s really about a Banana Republic size 4.  Vanity sizing victimization is so real and so sad! She’s stretched so many of my things beyond recoginition. She, her dad, or the main guy she usually hooks up with always pay for what she ruins so it’s not entirely a huge deal.  I don’t know what she gets out of having a closet full of my pre-worn size 0 and 2’s that’s she’s mangled and stretched to fit her. Oh well, it’s not for me to understand I guess. I just hope she doesn’t eventually turn into this. Sometimes all you can do is hope…

She’s also HUGE on proximity play and is such an attention whore. If we’re out shopping, eating, clubbing, whatever and she sees a guy or group of guys…she’s ALL over me.  It doesn’t matter if the guys is actually fuckable or fugly, she’s a little too happy to display her girl on girl-friendliness!

Ok,  it’s fun…sometimes…most of the time.  We were in Phipps a few months ago waiting in line at the sushi place.  We were giggling at this old couple in front  of us: 40-ish,  your classic example of a marriage with strong stockholm syndrome overtones.

The wife was loudly going on and on about stuff that wouldn’t matter to anyone not named Jesus.  I still think that the Word made Flesh and any of his hispanic namesakes might have a hard time being around this woman for longer than 5 minutes.  The second the hostage would try to add something to the conversation, the wife would pretty much ignore him and keep her little monologue going.  It was pretty annoying.  Eventually, she told him to wait there while she found a restroom, and told him to hold her bag. I could see the sides of his face crinkle into  up into a pretty decent grin.  I’m not sure why he started smiling after being forced to hold something that couldn’t even pass for one of those gay little manbags.  Maybe he was glad for just a few moments of peace or he may have been genuinely happy to hold his warden’s bag.  I only had one thought on my mind, “why would anyone go to a restroom and not take her bag with her?!!!” Especially since it was one of these !!

Lex and I were talking about how amazing it was, when the hostage turned around told us that it was the ugliest thing he’d ever spent half a mortgage payment on. My first thought was, “Oh wow, it speaks?!!!”  Then I started thinking about how sad it is to see a man whose life is half over with, still trying to impress two girls he’d never met with something that belonged to his wife!!  To get all poetic, it’s like he had fallen on both sides of the front of the obvious civil war going on within himself.  He tried to sound so smug as he casually tried to, no in any way at all subtle, let us know just how much financial girth he was working with. On the other hand, the poor guy obviously had fallen into a foxhole he probably never imagined himself in twenty or thirty years ago.  Middle-Aged and trying to act like the guy with it all, while holding the most feminine(it’s got fairies on it!!) of fetish objects.

We talked to him for a little bit more, just slightly less inane stuff than his wife was spewing. He asked us if we’d like to go ahead of him since there were only a  few people left before it was his turn to order and he wanted to wait until his wife came back.  Guess he knew better than to order for her :D.

As soon as we stepped in front of him, Lex reached around my waist and rested her hand on my hip.  She looked back in his direction and told him she hoped his wife wasn’t going to keep him waiting too much longer.  At the same time, she snaked her finger along the waistband of my skirt.  She  took her time finding my g-string and tugged gently at it until part of the thin, silk material was more than clearly visible over the top of the waistband. I let a few of her eager fingers dip as far down the front as possible.  See?!! Such an attention whore!! When I felt her fingers start to appreciate the awesome job the esthetician did on my wax, I was inspired by  the same sort of charitable spirit, as when I toss a few dollars into the previously mentioned Salvation Army kettle. I turned to the side to give our new, middle-aged friend a little peek.

I enjoyed  the tease and denial game Lex started and I’m guessing the hostage did too because he held his wife’s bag right in front of the hint of a bulge that he didn’t cover up quickly enough before we both saw.  I asked him which color he likes better, magenta or fuchsia. Of course he didn’t know the difference.   I explained to him that my panties were magenta. Then I cupped Lex’s ass with my hand, and slowly mimicked the same method she used to show him mine.  I didn’t get the chance to give him a peek at what fuchsia looks like, because the warden came back!!  The look on his face when I told him that maybe he’d like to have his place in line back because his wife/warden had come back?  Well let’s just say that it was worth a million Prada fairy bags!!  Oh well, guess he’ll have to learn his colors some other time.  I’m sure he became pretty familiar with one in particular that day…

Speaking of…

Here’s a bit philosophy for the chronically aroused and unrelieved dick stroking sluts. If your balls go unreleased, does your sexual frustration ever make a “sound”?   I’m sure our plaything at Phipps that day will forever equate the sound of his wife’s heels  with the ruin of what would have probably been the most interesting day he’d ever had in his life.  Another few minutes and  he probably thought we would have exchanged numbers and had lots of interesting days.  Not even close, but I like to give guys like that hope.  Sometimes, a little charity and hope is all any of us has to hold onto.

Be the best or sit down, shut up and beg to watch someone who is….

Mfs.(Princess) Kara

Between TOS violations and messing it up myself, this is my 10th blog in less than a year!!  So I’m back…again!!!  Anyway, onto more interesting stuff. 

First things first…

It’s my b-day on the 23rd!!!  I want 2 of whatever you got your wife, mom, girlfriend or that tranny that you pay 200 “kisses” to every month ;). Kidding. Sort of. Not really.

I’m starting to realize how hard it is to be a cocksucker.  I’ve never seen Brokeback Mountain and I’m watching it right now.  The part where Ennis says, “I’m not queer” not too many scenes after he roasts Jack’s rump just made giggle a little!!!  Reminds me of a certain senator, ex-senator whatever.  I’m as much aware of his job status as he’s aware of his…..

Well, I’m going to leave that alone…for now. 

If you’ve read any of my previous blogs before they got deleted, you’ll know that I’m always bitching about lame little fuckers always on the lookout for free wank material.  I mean, I’m not stupid…there’s some of you jerking right now reading this blog just because it’s Sunday, you’re bored, and you’re addicted to how your dick feels sliding in and out of your own hand.  No real arousal necessary!!  It’s like thumbsucking or a security blanket almost…LOL!  Fucked up but true. 

But it’s cool….guys like that make me smile a little.  Guys like Larry Craig make me smile a little too..then laugh, then give pointers just to see how far they’ll REALLY go!!  I’m sure some of you have thought about what it’s like to hook up with another man.  But you’re not “queer”…of course not. I’m going to give out both a free assignment and, possibly, some free wank material.  If you’re just idly jerking and you get an extra tingle after reading the article linked below,I want to know!!!  If you’re not fucking your fist and you read this and you get a tingle.  I want to know!!

I came across this article about the “alleged” patron saint of closets, knee pads and back doors, Mr. Craig. Please make sure you catch the line about how he “allegedly” told one of the guys that he could buy and sell him 1000 times over and stuffed a $20 bill in the guys pocket.  LOVE , LOVE, LOVE that; if the “allegations are true at least :).  $20 worth of legal, tender afternoon fun and being able to buy and sell that legal, tender ass 1000 times over! Allegedly.  

It’s HARD being a cocksucker!  It’s must be even HARDER being a cocksucker AND dodging  those advances from public servants in public bathrooms.  Don’t worry, I’m here to help!!  Out yourself here…register…leave a comment!! I’ll have a button up in a bit so you can give me a call or arrange one and we can see if you’re queer or not.  It’s not  hard…at least not once it’s over ;).