UFO Chronicler Clipping | Excerpt from Triangulum Stain 2 |

ufo-chronicler-sightings

This UFO Chronicler Excerpt is a clipping from the beginning of the book Triangulum Stain 2 – Alien Relish. It sets the stage for what the book is going to be. TriStain 1 had lots of print outs from an old diode computer set up in the bowels of the Secret Government Facility known as Cunter Labs. TriStain 2 has a few clippings because it has to cover billions of years. Let me include a clipping or two to make it happen. It’s the story of creation and extinction told from the sexual perspective. Enough blab, let’s get to the story…

Clipping from the UFO Chronicler (THE UFOCHRO – /yoo-FOW-krow/)

by Dean Dibblewitz (more about him later)

On the Alien Planet M69, circa 3,717,879,873 light years before (give our take a few million years)

The planet was like the surface of the moon, all craggly and nooks and crannies. They say the moon was once filled with a yogurt and Planet M69 in the Pinwheel Formation was definitely one of those types with some kind of viscous white and clear cream running through the tunnels, formations, and falls. Imagine a cum river, a cum waterfall, a cum lake. That’s what you have. There were no humans on M69, aka Alien Relish, all the life forms were in this liquid, oozing from craters, hissing down cumfalls, cascading down ravines. It was a bizarre site and one that Doc Rock and company had been studying. It was, of course, free of humans but certainly not free of life. It was life. It was life incarnate. The spring.

The cummy planet was a DNA garden. It was the source from which life spurted. Scientists and Philosophers on Earth complained that English had no good work for this concept, the idea of going from nothing to something. Creation. Spring. Spew. Spurt. Jizz. Splooge. Start. Call it what you may it was the essential element in the universe, the moment when nothing becomes something. Some think the world is death filled by life. Some think the world is life interrupted by death. Either which way, there were two states: alive and dead. The movement between them emerged from this Alien Relish. The relish was programmed to procreate. It flew through the universe, what the scientists call panspermia. The whole mantra is to procreate. It hopped rides on comets, stuck to rings of planets, kissed little particles of ice, got sucked into black holes, and in this case jumped inside the cockpit of the Martian Mindwalker, the latest capsule sent from Earth to discover if there was life on Mars. Somehow the Martian Mindwalker wandered way off course into the Pinwheel Formation and the spores of M69, the Alien Relish itself, had hijacked a ride to Earth. Nobody who knew knew.

This chemical agent from M69 hitching a ride to Earth led to a massive sentient Alien Dildo Invasion that was secretly thwarted by a secret group of women tasked with protecting life here on Earth. They are spooks. If you say their name you will disappear. If you look at them in the shadows they will vanish. If you see one on the television your memory will be erased. If you read about them in a book you will orgasm and forget they ever existed. BUT THEY ARE HERE, among us. THEY ARE THE FUCK FORCE FIVE.

And I will uncover them for you.

But what I have uncovered is terrible news. Our pleasure center is drying up. The pools of sexual desire are far from infinite. They are almost all gone.

One last thing, and perhaps the scariest. Until Replicating Dildo Day (RDD – See TriStain1 if you need more info), there was a word in our minds that we knew for the concept I mentioned above. The word was the verb that meant to become something from nothing. Something like to jizz, to spring, to become, but the exact right word. That word was removed from our minds at the same time that the cummy planet and all that lifeforce dried up.

###

FUN FACT:

The UFO Chronicler (aka U-Fo-Krow) was a little independent paper. They tracked Alien Life on Earth and abroad. They stumbled on quite a few facts and Dean Dibblewitz was their lead investigative journalist. He was wildly unknown but extremely famous. He monitored those who monitored others and was thus monitored himself. He was that little tingle in the back of your neck that lets you know something is out there. He was deja vu.

The Fuck Force Five was located in the Brooklyn Armory. They were underground in an office that was decorated with the old streamlined white furniture of the air terminal at JFK circa 1960.*

 

Character Bio:

Dean DibblewitzAka DD – Alien. Writer at UFO Chronicler. Photographic memory specialized in human history, immortal. If he doesn’t dibble himself, he forgets his entire memory. The moment he gets fucked and ejaculates the whole of human history rushes back to him. This can be very useful. This can also lead to a quick fuck necessary at the most inopportune moments. DD used a poster of Tabitha from Fuck Force Five (secret identity: Destiny Girl) hung on his ceiling to help him manage his memory. Why was Tabitha on a poster? Cause her secret identity was Destiny’s Girl from the mega-platinum super-band Destiny’s Pussydolls.

PRE-ORDER Triangulum Stain 2 for FREE – Only a few days left!

Enuff!

^.^

*one reader pointed out that JFK wasn’t called that until 1963, which is true. Before that we called it Idlewild but it was really called New York International Some Shit. It looked something like this:

Idlewild Airport

Moctezuma Johnson’s Erotic Smutpunk Bulletin #0 (The Pilot) | The Bullshit Bulletin

Erotic_smutpunk-bulletin

Moctezuma Johnson wants to get the word out: The Erotic Smutpunk Bulletin

Ever heard of Marvel’s Bulletin Board? [[insert image here]]

We should be doing that too. We have T. Queef and some other saps to take the piss out of a bit. There are the one wank wonders, the cunts and dicks who’ve never learnt no grammer, and the tweetathoners. Then there’s Mr. B’s crew. They are nice so I won’t fuck with them even though I wish I could tell you from cunt to black & white cocksucker where the line of “tasteful” gets drawn, in what color, and by whom, but that’s not the issue here. No, no, they don’t say tasteful, they say “classy.” I say assy but the fact that the Mr. B group has a pulse, a libido, and N angle makes me want to have a thousand arms to finger the nymphs and jerk the duke. The nymphettes are nice. They are awesome to me one-on-one and have retweeted the shit out of me. Oh, and my wife, the jynxy mynx named Emme “Cocksucking” Hor is one of them, for fucks sake. How can Moctezuma Johnson not join?

If you can’t beat ’em, join em.

Me? No. Like Groucho Marx said, “I don’t want to be part of any group that would have me for a member.” Not that they would have me as a member. But I still consider them part of the bullpen, especially Jenny, Linzi, July, and Callie. There are a bunch of other fuckers and page eroti-suckers who I want to fold into the mix like blueberries into hot muff(in) batter. There’s Reed James and the Naught Book Snitch with her GIFtopia. One day at a time, like a good AA member.

Get Your Spider-Man Shirt

Get Your Spider-Man Shirt

A literary porn erotic smutpunk bulletin

A place to get important upcoming news in the literary erotica universe. We don’t have a bullpen where we all sit and one table and crank out mad creativity cause we all sit all by our lonesomes in our underwear with coffee, wine, joints, or all three, and do our bidding with our bots and one-handed typing. I guess twitter is our ‘pen but that’s pure chaos. Bulls are way more organized than we are on twitter. We are out of fucking control with all the tweets (thanks tweetathoners, I’m so sick of seeing repeat lines and repeat images), all the dick picks (it’s mostly dudes from the subcontinent – guys, I’m a dude. Do you want this Latino-Italian guy looking at your dick? You do? Then read my FUTA shit!), and all the book link BUY MY BOOK links, you can have a nervous breakdown in five minutes. Luckily I mostly ignore DMs so they can send cocks ’til the cows come home. My point is that authors could use a little bulletin that boils down the news so we can see what’s going on. We need an easy to manage quick news rather than scrolling through noise. In Seoul, busy streets have neon signs in every spot imaginable advertising stuff. The neon-barrage is so strong that I feel like I’m walking in the dark. I’ve unconsciously mentally turned off every buzzing colorful light. In real life these electric color-boards tell me to shop, eat, and drink at their establishments. In my mind I see a quiet black sky and hot Asian chicks in short skirts. These stores should start sending me dick pictures, they’d be better off. We could have a bulletin.

Why was Marvel’s Bulletin so Amazing?

Cause comics rule! I loved those Marvel chats with Stan the Man. Stan’s Soapbox. Sexy. I loved wrestling and metallica too, but I outgrew the latter two things. Comics still fucking rule!

I go to comic book stores regularly because flipping through a bunch of comic books jumpstarts my mind in a way that nothing else can. The creativity within these pages is off the charts. It was Callie Press who said some erotic smutpunk bulletin magic words to me the other night by DM that really knocked my socks deep up my anal cavity. She said, “Excelsior!” out of nowhere or some of the other weird ass words Stan “The Man” Lee would throw out there. It made me look up why the fuck he did that and I found out it was because he thought his competition (the fuckers that would copy everything) wouldn’t be able to copy it because they wouldn’t know how to spell it after he said it. Lol. That just cracks me up and I’m pretty sure some of my haters can’t spell abominable snowman nor the Philippines. I take pleasure in that. And in saying, Fuck you to the haters. I’ve watched most of them drop off like flies (see T. Queef) and disappear back into the narrow-minded fetters from whence they came. You know what I say, Can’t a Husband Suck His Wife’s Cock Anymore? Western culture has become too Politically Cum-rect(al). Asia is still a much rawer place.

Thankfully I can hide my head in the cum-stained sand and write about the destruction of the universe by the Sluts of the Oblong-Dong Table and the drying up of The Streams of Sementopia and the ismywifeaFUTAvolcanic Mt. Ejaculi going dormant. I can write about Yeti’s taking big-titted Russian whores as slaves and then getting sick of them and kicking them down the side of a mountain. I can read about a Halloween Spook being all too real and using virgin sperm and menstrual blood to erase and create universes. This is the fun of what I’ve termed Literary Porn Erotica. Kat Crimson calls it smart smut or cerebral smut, which is another kick ass term. I’m stoked to be a part of this fucked up wave of eWriters who can self-publish their stuff and tweet with their readers and have a jolly old time. Just the way these Marvel Bulletins were a cool way to feel a part of the comic crowd, we get excited about new work thanks to blogs, tweets, posts, and other sharers. I’m going to boil it down every bulletin board. That’s my pledge. Feel free to send me shit that you know has to be out there. I feel free to ignore shit that has no place.

Hey, Queen Kegel, Excelsior! Let’s start putting EROTIC PULP of Heroes and Villians! into all our eBooks (natch!)

Literary Porn Club, baby! SAN ESPERMA cockslapping fools left and right for Candy Cane Kegel and the SUPERhung superHUNK SPaCe GlaDIatorS

Bullpen Bulletin #o (The Pilot Cerebral Erotic Smutpunk Bulletin):

The Milked by the Yeti Series has begun. Book 1 by Moctezuma is out on the literaryporn.net site and Callie Press is writing Book 2 as I write this. She’s released the first installment, introducing Vivek and bring the milking fucking Yeti back for more scary, sexy fun.

‘Nuff said!

Erotic-Smutpunk-Bulletin_Moctezuma-Johnson

GUYS! Follow Moctezuma’s Site and Get Your Free Testicle Exam from Kitchen COWgirl!

Two Poems by Emme Hor | #EARTG #MrBrtg #LPRTG |

A Literary Porn Poem

Two Poems about Rothko and Rosenvasser

by Emme Hor

I was the meat
Rothko and Rosenvasser were the bread
I sauced, creamy dressing
mustard-honey vinaigrette on lunch-meatsexy (6)
they were lightly toasted
and soggy in the middle

^.^

Rothko and Rosenvasser
hate each other
each spits when he
hears the name of the other

 

$.

Author bio:

Emme Hor was born in Malaysia. She has a degree in Law and in Ass-kicking. She looks like a smoking hot supermodel, standing over six feet tall. She was once offered 10,000 dollars to take a Bukkake. Whether or not she accepted can be neither confirmed nor denied. If you compliment her on her poetry she may sign a picture of her ass for you as a souvenir. Get yourself ready for the Confessions of a Whore Series.

^.^

^.^

Milked by the Yeti | Live on LiteraryPorn.net | #LPRTG #EARTG @calliepress lol

yeti rim job to russian

I am writing MILKED BY THE YETI in installments on literaryporn.net (the companion site to #LPRTG and moctezumajohnson.com)

I’ve released the first two installments and the OUTLINE. I think it will be fun to write this in a totally transparent manner. You can see me succeed or you can see me fail, or most likely land somewhere in the middle. I mean, how can a snowed in story with an abominable snowman and a Russian Slut with big tits not be a grand winner?

Go ahead and have a look.

OUTLINE of BOOK ONE:

INSTALLMENT ONE of MJ’s Milked by the Yeti ONE

INSTALLMENT TWO of MJ’s Milked by the Yeti TWO

INSTALLMENT THREE of MJ’s Milked by the Yeti THREE

INSTALLMENT FOUR of MJ’s Milked by the Yeti FOUR

 

 

EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT:

An awesome writer, a writer of genius and sex appeal, has expressed interest in writing BOOK two of the fucking yeti series I’ve begun here.

 

 

Callie Press does not rest on her laurels. She writes. She said she’d get behind the wheel for a ride on MILKED BY THE YETI and sure ’nuff, here the thing is. Good news, indeed, little newspaper-selling sir!

Also, with Callie’s posts, she has really taken this “be transparent about how you write” stuff far. Her intros and asides are awesome. We are getting tons of positive feedback. Enjoy!

BOOK TWO:

INSTALLMENT ONE of Callie’s Milked by the Yeti ONE

INSTALLMENT TWO of Callie’s Milked by the Yeti TWO

INSTALLMENT THREE of Callie’s Milked by the Yeti THREE

INSTALLMENT FOUR of Callie’s Milked by the Yeti FOUR

yeti

Callie Press and Moctezuma Johnson each milked out a book of yeti

You know what, somebody has to make a trailer of these MILKED BY THE YETI books.

 

BOOK THREE by Moctezuma Johnson

Part One

Part Two

Part Three 

Part Four

 

And Finally, Book Four by Callie Press has begun!

Part One

 

(if any links are bad please let me know in the comments and try searching on literaryporn.net, thanks^^)

NotQuiteMilkedByTheYeti

 

rs_634x1024-151214132753-634.Heidi-Klum-Naked-FB-121415

Why a model modelling in a block of ice is appropriate makes more sense when you read part 1 of Book 4

 

^.*

Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG |

Excerpt of [amazon text=I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet&asin=B0195IKMUK] by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG

From the Confessions of a Whore Trilogy – This scene from Book 1 takes place somewhere in Anytown, USA

 

Neil was munching on a green tea ice cream out of the cup and I was eating an ice pop called Vanilla Quickie from a company called “Lil’ Sugar.”

Neil was staring at me, so I gave him a show. I held the red berry ice pop up to my mouth. My lips were parted, and my tongue was slightly out. Like Lenny, I looked like I was panting from the heat. He was panting cause of the sun, but me, no, it was different. I was hungry for a big, hard cock. In my mind, I was getting it. I was panting as I brought the big, dripping ice pop toward by open mouth. I licked from the very bottom of the shaft all the way to the top while staring into Neil’s eyes. As I repeated this full-length lick while holding the stick at the base I craned my head left and right. Then I put the tip in my mouth and sucked on it. It was so cold against my lips. My hot tongue melted the frozen cream. I pulled it out, “Yum!” I said.  The cream was sweet and tasty.

“You’re too much,” he answered.

“Am I?” I taunted him. I shoved the entire length of the thing into my mouth until the ice pop disappeared into the back of my throat. Only the stick was hanging out from my closed lips. I stared at Neil and he looked annoyed. I put on my sad puppy eyes and then pulled the length of it back out of my mouth. In a sweet baby voice I said, “Baby wishes she had something bigger and harder to suck on.”

“Baby!” Neil chided me. He looked down into his ice cream. “Come on, you’re not a whore!”

Vanilla Quickie

Something about this “Vanilla Quickie” ice cream changed me

I laughed. “Okay, you’re no fun, you know that?”

I ate “properly” the rest of the way, peering out at the boring, quaint town of South Pampton. We strolled home, slowly. Lenny was still panting. I looked down at him understandingly. I had been bitten. It was done. Between the hunk whose hands never touched me, the ice pop, and the nasty feeling in my gut, I had to do something.

I tried to let this feeling pass. It just wouldn’t go away. I would be at the supermarket in the aisle with the chocolate syrup and imagine the stock boy spraying it all over my chest. I would be reading a book in the bookstore and want to rip off my clothes and finger myself right there with the book resting on my pelvis.

While with Neil in the copy shop I wanted to be railed by the automaton making a photo copy of one of his geek achievements, something or other about being the Renegade Music Pirate of the Year or something I didn’t care about. All the machines pounded in their robotic, repetitive back and forth. It was too much for me. I wanted to be railed by an automaton. I wanted a fucking machine to do me over and over again until I was trembling. I was jealous of the sex life of a room full of copy machines. I mean, I was so aroused by all this copying that I would have let R2D2 finger me with his gyroscope thingy that plugs in and cracks imperial codes while C3PO diddled my ass with his gold-tipped toe.

That night I went for a bike ride. I rode to Lorna Morris’ house. Her boyfriend was in the back fixing a broken outdoor table umbrella. The shaft was stuck in through the hole of an outdoor table and jammed stuck in the base. I imagined the solid wood shaft of the umbrella going in and out of the hole in the table. Everything was sexy. I was wet. Not damp. Wet. Unbearably wet. Everything was sex.

Inside, I saw Lorna adding the last bits of clothes to the laundry basket.

I sat on the washing machine and spread my legs. I moved to the dryer, which was shaking like a lucky girl getting cunnilingus. I felt the shake and the warmth and inched that much closer to climax. When Lorna came in and saw me legs spread on her bucking machine she threw the basket to the ground. The dirty clothes spilled out everywhere. She got down and let her amazing tongue relieve the pussy-ache. She worked magic on my swollen clit. Tongue, lips, teeth, everything she did felt great. The machine buzzed and whirred to a shaky cataclysmic stop. It vibrated. Lorna licked. She fingered. She teased. My orgasm built and built and built some more.

I was on the verge of squirting across the room. Her boyfriend burst in, I guess he’d heard the buzz, and seeing him and his bulging muscles sent me over the edge. I grabbed the shelf above me so hard I dislodged it from the wall. As I came, I got showered in cascading fabric softener sheets. “So you finally seduced her, Lorn,” her boyfriend said. He walked back out, leaving the laundry room door wide open.

I rode back home feeling the bicycle seat under me. My sex was pushing against the seat like I was neatly in the right place. Orgasm had cleared my thoughts. I was calm. I knew what I had to do.

(continue reading this hot Asian-American RomanceI Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor)

 

Contact Emme

Join her Mailing List for News about New Releases, New Blog Posts, and New Photos.
Follow her on Twitter

 

Emme’s To Do List: Have someone write “I Am Not a Whore” in cum on my bust and photograph! Who do I know that cums that much?

TRIVIA/FUN FACT: Later cum erupts out of a cock, drips down the shaft, and looks like vanilla ice cream dripping down a cone.

 

Links to Naughty Vids That Remind and Inspire this Excerpt:

Miko Dai (aka my stunt double)

Older Asian MILF (aka my stunt double of the very near future)

Books Read by Brittany During the Flight from the USA to Thailand | #MrBrtg

by Emme Hor

Kindle Erotic Books read by Brittany in I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet! from the Confessions of a Whore Series.

The Book of Real & Imaginary Girlfriends 1 & 2 by Moctezuma Johnson

[amazon text=Butterface by Callie Press&asin=B0151S70BW]

[amazon text=His Cherished Sub by Linzi Bassett&asin=B015VE6J5E]

[amazon text=Submission at the Tower by Felicity Brandon&asin=B014VUFQMG]

[amazon text=Jizziebelle by Kat Crimson&asin=1943322007]

[amazon text=That Beefhead by Emme Hor&asin=B0118FWZIA]

 

 

 

Tastefully Airbrushed for your Pleasure || What the fuck? Playboy, too? || A Guest Post by Callie Press | #LPRTG #EARTG #Playboy

WTF

I want to thank Callie for agreeing to post on my dirty little site. She’s got more balls than most men I know and also has big tits. In other words, she’s a hot, mental Futa! Let me introduce her and then make way for the juggernaut of smart that is Ms. Press. 

While Callie could barely type a word thanks to being as high as the Fuck Force Five flying to Planet Alien Relish I asked her to guest post because she was blowing my mind with these ideas that all the alpha males have gone with Joe DiMaggio and (Paul Simon is a prick by the way, unrelated) and that even Playboy — what? — has given up on nudity and fallen into the horrifying, sanitized, apathetic throes of censorship and handbag carrying pussy-men. 

GUEST POST: CALLIE PRESS (tastefully airbrushed for your pleasure) 

So I’m recovering from surgery and full of hydrocodone, which means I am tweeting endless insane DMs to MJ. As a result, when I ranted at least somewhat coherently on a subject, I got this DM in return:

Guest post for me please! Pretty please. Pretty no nudity in playboy and I carry a handbag please.

How can I refuse? That’s 3 pleases from MJ without even one mention of a gagging blowjob or a gaping ass fuck, so I know he really, really meant it. Besides, I’d do it for him if he asked me in any case, if I wasn’t totally absent-minded about things.

So this topic is Playboy removing nudity from the magazine. I know print is dying (I know it first hand, I used to make a living in the newspaper industry) and I guess they want to be more PC since Hef is finally aware he’s mortal. And I’m as feminist as anybody. All my life I’ve done what I wanted because that’s what men do and I didn’t care if someone said I couldn’t do something ‘because I’m a girl.’ I was never ashamed of enjoying sex even though it didn’t go over too well in my religious household or in the small towns we landed in once we left Detroit.

But won’t someone think of the CHILDREN? What kind of men are we making?

Hear me out. Yeah, porn is everywhere on the internet. And it’s trivial to hide looking at it, even if you have a prudish wife like in that atrocious and hysterically funny made-by-a-local-church movie “Fight” (trust me it’s HIGH LARIOUS). Or even if you just have a jealous wife like I can be sometimes. (I want all the attention by those who have a cock, it’s just how I’m made). And little girls and little boys both need some evidence that their dads have a pair, no matter what kind of a shrieking harpy their mother may be.

I found my dad’s playboys when I was probably 12, under the seat of his car. They were there, instead of in the house, because my mom has always been a…difficult person. And I looked at them and it didn’t traumatize me. I have older sisters; the anatomy wasn’t new, but the beauty of the anatomy was. And it made me think, wow, Dad likes women, and Mom can’t control him so much that he stops liking women.

It was a good thing to know. For a lot of men, sadly, it seems this is the closest they ever come to having a spine. For some men, as lame as it is, it’s the only sort of ‘rebellion’ or ‘alpha behavior’ they can ever manage to get away with. And did my Mom know he had Playboys? Of course she knew. Every woman knows. It’s like the only ‘boys will be boys’ thing that is really acceptable out of a man, at least after a few kids, for most women in this day and age. It’s that little spark of ‘bad boy’ that we can just knowingly smile about, even if we pretend to be offended. (Even if you are truly offended, actually.)

What's missing? Oh, my balls. Shit.

What’s missing? Oh, my balls. Shit.

Not any more though. Now if you want to see a tasteful naked woman, you have to do it on the internet. Yeah, that happens, right? Kids can’t learn about males’ natural drives in such an innocent and healthy way. Hell, the first time my husband ever saw a naked woman was when he found his dad’s cache of playboys…how many grown men can say the same thing? A lot of you. Someday that will be none. They’ll only get what they see on the internet, which is of course in a frantic race to reach the bottom. Tomorrow’s men won’t learn by seeing lovingly shot, carefully airbrushed, tasteful nudity. Their first glimpse of a naked woman will probably be stumbling on gangbang sites or something that really can dehumanize women who like sex. There’s no personal context unless it’s like fifteen seconds of the hot wife and hubby on the couch saying the same things as the last fifty couples who sat on the couch.

What it’s going to do is just neuter most men even more than they already have been neutered. I’m not saying I want a world full of alpha males, but this is the kind of thing that puts the boot on the alphas’ necks and makes betas out of them. The good men who happen to be alphas are stuck pretending not to be. The actual alphas that are left ‘in the wild’ are going to be the sociopaths, and it’s going to make women even more susceptible to them than we already are.

I want men to have the chance to buy their ‘dirty magazines’ or whatever and let their wives and girlfriends know, maybe you can TAME me, but you can’t CASTRATE me. I’m glad my hubby still has his god damn Carmen Electra issue, even if it makes me so jealous I want to slap her. If he isn’t enjoying how women look, he sure as hell isn’t enjoying how I look.

Let the boys look, for fuck’s sake. It’s good for everybody.

^.^

$. Callie $

Callie Press is the genius who created Butterface, as if you didn’t know that. Also, she be hot and gives great head.

 

Saint to Slut – Is your girl a slut? | Tricks to ascertain her status

saint-to-slut-AllWomenAreWhores

There’s nothing like making a girl go saint to slut

Defiling an innocent girl and getting her to impale herself on your dick is one of the great joys of sex. Another moment of bliss is watching the titties pop out. Watching panties come off is also a moment of glory, but I digress.

How to know if the girl you’re dealing with is a slut

A lot of women are sluts, so chances are you’re in the capable, good hands of one. Most women, and all great women, possess and inner slut who is dying to bust out of that conservative facade, grab you by the balls, and cream all over your dick. But before your ram it up her poop-chute, you may want to test the saint to slut waters first. I find this little trick quite helpful. Set a time limit the first time you talk to a girl. Ask her what her name is in the first twenty-five seconds and ask for a kiss twenty seconds later. If she kisses you then, you’ve likely got yourself a winner. I’m not saying that within a minute she will be in the bathroom kneeling and holding cock in her hand, but at this point it’s pretty safe to say she is leaning more towards whore than prude. If she is a whore, you’re ready to thrive in all aspects of my how-to series. The key thing to remember is that the transformation from saint to slut will not only make you happy, but it will fulfill a burning desire deep inside her too. And she will thank you for revealing her inner whore.

The How To Series – Useful Relationship Advice

This stuff works, guys. You can wipe your ass with Cosmo. The new world order has reduced men to whining little bitches. Yes, me too! I’m on a mission to reclaim my balls and stuff in the mouths of the masses. Come join me. Ladies welcome too!

Big Tits Small Waist

Women with big tits tend to be sluttier. Thank you, slutty women. Thank you. We love when you go Saint to Slut. We are grateful.

^.^

$2 off Bored to Tears with My Asian Husband || This Week Only! || #EARTG #LPRTG

Gorgeous Yoga Pose

Today is the last day to get a free copy of my book of short stories. Each story features a hot Asian wife.

Stories include…
…a wife who finds nirvana in her Yoga Guru.

…a married BBW who feels appreciated for the first time when a sexy African dude dances close to her in a club. Her husband sees how things unfold and instead of leading to divorce, it invigorates their relationship, but not without a price.

yogapantssexy

Why men do yoga and why women love their yoga pants

…a bootybuilding gym rat who can’t take the stares of the only foreigner in this Korean gym and lays herself down on a bench to pleasure herself, until she’s outed.

…a story of an Eastern European babe married to an Asian dude who is so bored that she lets two very sketchy dudes, one white and one black, take her into an abandoned alley. What unfolds you could never predict. Never.

…and a tale entitled Mad for Jizz about a date gone awry in front of some voyeuristic tourists.

There are 69, err six to nine tales. One tale of mile high nirvana features three quasi-related stories. This one is an autobiography dressed in the sweet candy-flipped-wrapper of fiction. Want to understand more about me? Punch your ticket and download this book for free. Quick, it’s the last day!

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