tales of a shit bag

GUEST POST

Some days you’re just so thirsty for some pussy, that you’d do or say anything just to get your tip in. Or maybe that’s just me?
(My tendency is to want what I can’t have.)

So when a girl I’m dating dry humps me 'til the veins on my cock are about to burst, refusing to fuck me until I take an STD test, I’ll lie.

I’ll tell her how I set up a doctor’s appointment. A few days later I'll text to say that I made it to said appointment and a few more after that, another text apprising of the green light for some good old fashion fucking.

When she asks to see the results, I’ll let her know “I’ll bring them buy tomorrow, framed and matted”. Then instead, I’ll ignore her calls/texts and never speak to her again.

Or maybe a girl really wants to fuck but I refuse to use lifestyles condoms because I rip straight through them; I’ll lie and inform her that I had a vasectomy. Luckily, I have this wicked scar that trails from my taint to my balls, crediting my deception.

But come on, you should see these girls (!) with their gloriously monstrous asses and tits the size of my head, spewing suggestions of things they would do to me.
Purring lines you’d only hear in Hustler editorials.

They had it ‘cumming’.
(Did you see what I did there?)

I'm a scumbag.

leave zoo sex to the french

Tuesday begins, guest posts!
The first in this series by a male friend, a self-proclaimed, lovable-scumbag.
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At the peak of my pussy-pursuing days, online dating sites were my number one source of guilt-free sex. For every ten messages I’d send out there would be at least three or four replies to work with. Pretty good odds if you ask me. Not only that, but every so often I’d get an unprompted message, which would of course do tremendous things to my (already inflated) ego.

The number of women I’ve bedded through my online conquests remains unknown to me; although I'm sure I have a list somewhere.

Let's begin.

I’m not the biggest animal lover in the world.
My love for creatures can be summed up to simply, cats, turtles and hamsters.
That’s it.

I especially hate dogs.
HATE DOGS.

I especially hate little dachshunds.
Little dachshunds whom you insist should stay in the room while we’re trying to get it on.
Yup, you insist on leaving it the room while I’m trying to go down on you.
You want to know why I hate this? Sometimes, it invites itself in on the (oral) fun.

You know what makes it worse? What I especially hate?
I hate that you let it happen.
You say, "Oh it's ok, I let him do that sometimes"
Fucking really?

Threesomes are cool.
Threesomes with your hot dog are not.