I’m On Some Real Fuck-A-Bitch Shit
Last night, I ended up watching the damn fireworks on my patio all by my fucking lonesome. I had a pretty good view of the firework display that popped off over at Disneyland. It was just me and my purple kush and a few glasses of Grey Goose on the rocks enjoying the unexpected lifestyle of independence. Not one phone call from the 18 year old since our blowup. What the fuck happened yesterday?
It was hard to concentrate at work today. The fucking bitch kept floating in and out of my mind and it was distracting. I don’t really give a rat’s ass if we get back together or not, but it’s not like me to just let a fine piece of ass like hers slip away without a “for-old-times-sake fuck”. I was debating whether to call her or not, but I didn’t want to look weak and, more importantly, I didn’t want to make it seem like I cared about her.
After work, I went to the local bar down the street from my apartment for happy hour. The bartender could tell I had more than the usual on my mind and actually made herself available to talk—well, actually, she listened while I vented about the young bitch. I’ll be damned if I fold to a fucking youngster and the 18 year old will call in due time because that’s what females do—they care and express their emotions. Fuck her…
Maybe it’s a sign to move on to a more experienced can’t-get-pregnant slut like Vicki-the-tramp. Whores like her over at MILFVixen.com have been around the block enough times to know how to hold the fort down in the sexual department, and that’s what it’s really all about. I need me an around the way girl who knows what time it is when I call. Fuck a bitch. Chew em up and spit em out… they’re all a fucking dime a dozen.
Original post by webmaster