Disclaimer and/or warning: This is a creative writing site with many diverse topics, ramblings, ideas, fictional stories (for entertainment purposes), poetry and informative subject matter; although the promotional content found here can be quite lame, but, it also makes me money at the same time, so get over it… However, it is not always about selling products and/or making money from the advertisements, and often times, the “creative department” found here may seem a little bit sinister to the more “proper” individuals out there, but please forgive me, as I’m not perfect either, but at least I don’t usually try to make money off of these type of posts… Besides, posts like this are just for fun and if you run across a post title on this site that sounds too crude for your taste, nobody is making anyone read anything here… Ha!
Anyway, forget about current events and the global issues at hand, and lets focus on what is really important here… I’m currently 3 inches away, 13 years until, and 12 roses short, from the “12 inch dick & dozen roses by age 45 goal” that will truly balance the Yin & Yang of the perverted Universe, but don’t worry – I have a plan! Listen and take heed; this is very important for your future if you remain to exist, dear females within the sexy Milky Way and/or fellow sex-fiend mutha fuckin’ bitches! Ha-ha!
I figure that, by the time I reach the ripe age of 45, at the rate I’m going and if I make it that long before drifting into the nearest Quasar from some bizarre sector of deep space, that I will totally be able to be romantic, sweet, wild and savage at the same time and actually have a successful, fruitful relationship without all the bull-shit! Yes-yes! …But before I fall into a black hole and end up in another universe or drift into a distant Quasar for a whole different set of the various galactic forms of erotic, solar-bound recreation, I aim to please a small portion (unless I find somebody extremely loyal who will stay with me through thick & thin) of the estrogen-based, hormonally scrambled & challenged bitches of America that dwell on planet Earth, in due time! Yeah, put your damn batteries down, there is hope after all… Ha-ha-ha!
[Please wait, while I disable the Google Advertisements for this post, as having them around this lovely blog post, may cause irrelevance to the adverts in some sort of ill-mannered fashion. Plus, I’d hate to violate the Google advert T.O.S. agreement, since I’m now actually worthy of regular checks (finally!) that contain 3 digits before the cent mark. Also, maintaining 4 blogs and a main website, can get a little stale at times without the occasional creative ramblings, so here we are…with or without the fact that I’m relying on my “web works” as a source of “roommate replacement income.” Uh, yeah, how pathetic, but anyway…]
I’ve did the math and have come to this conclusion, along with lots of pulling, jerking, tugging, stroking, pressurizing, bending, beating – you name it! I figure that since age 15, poor kid, the pathetic, pristine 6 inch dick from that young age has ultimately grew to the robust 9 inch cock that I carry with me today, and this happened by the time I was age 30 or thereabouts (okay, it happened way sooner than that, but I’m trying to keep the math simple!), that by the time I reach 45 years old, it will be a full 12 inches unless I quit abusing it like I’ve did the last 17 years or so… Ouch! At any rate, since I’ve never been a rose picker, but I did once buy a dozen roses when I was 22.125 years old, that I would be due to buy another set of 12 roses at the age of 44.25 years old, which would probably end up being closer to 45… AND, you factor in the age 15 = 6 inches and the age 30 = 9 inches into the equation, I’m almost being semi-prophetic with a massive preDICTion of penile bliss, that my grand age of 45 years may equal 12 inches of dick plus a fuckin’ dozen red roses for some unlucky, lucky babe that has to put up with all my “stuff!” As the New Age folks often spout without a brain even being close to intact, “say whaaa???”
On a better note without all the mathematics: I’ve always had trouble with the sentiment section of an intimate relationship, while I often solely rely on my wicked, nefarious cock (although I have way more to offer than that) to do most of the work for me. Overall, I must say, I make for a very unsuitable boyfriend for most of the unlucky gals that has to receive zero roses and 9 inches of cock along with lots of brain, creativity, honesty, loyalty, logic, good cooking, excellent morals, intelligent conversation (when I’m not having rage-filled arguments or griping), kinky hardcore sex, hard work and much more – with just a splash of sweetness on rare occasions! I’m so, so, so very sorry; I really am, but please give me, oh, 13 more years and I’ll have it all planned out for ya!
Look, I understand that the females out there having to endure the orgasms from a caveman like me is totally no good without the romantic roses, and we all know that having orgasms after orgasms is a terrible thing in the long run, especially when I’m giving them some “marathon man-meat sessions,” but that’s besides the point. Once again, I’m really sorry dear bitches; I must try to better myself and we can only hope that you all have found your lord and savior while cursing me for fucking so damn good that y’all ended up hating & loving me at the same time! I know, I wasn’t sweet enough, and some of y’all may end up screaming like a dying dog for many hours of your life while with me – due to the hardcore penetration provided… that you enjoyed ever-so dearly, but hey, I’m not a nice guy, now am I? Yeah, y’all should definitely leave the caveman-type guys like me…
LOL! I just really enjoy taking a break from all the promotional work and informative writing I’ve did lately on a couple other sites of mine, and occasionally writing these silly, creative, factual & fictional ramblings on one of my many blogs via cyber space…… It is always nice to mix fact with fiction along with story-telling savvy and creative hogwash, but really: I can get that 12 inch dick & dozen roses for ya, by age 45, even if I have to buy ’em both! Ha-ha-ha!
…And shall the depictions tell the tale, below:
Related link: “Most guys show less sentiment than girls; deal with it!”
—End of Fictional (true?) Short (long?) Story [Ha-ha!]