First cuming (part v)

Just to be clear, I hate this story. But you’re making me do this.

I take no responsibility for the things I write.

John laid a dead boar, which he strangled with his hands, next to the fire. Him and Alyssa were lost. Their canoe was destroyed in some rapids and they were camping for the night by the river’s edge.

Their clothes were drying by the fire. While Alyssa was smart enough to pack a change of clothes, John was forced to wear a loincloth while he cut up the boar. Alyssa tried not to stare at his huge ballsack.

“Care for some boar?” he asked.

“No thank you. I’m a vegetarian.”

“That’s Liberal poppycock,” he said. “Man was meant to senselessly kill animals.”

Ignoring the comment, Alyssa noticed a scar near John’s abdomen. “How did you get that?” she asked.

“Vietnam,” he replied, “I got stabbed there behind a whorehouse 10 years ago.”

“What about the scar on your thigh?”

“Botched circumcision.”

John started tearing into the boar’s leg with his teeth. Blood was dripping down his chin, past his neck, and onto his man chest. Alyssa tried to keep her passions at bay. She had never before witnessed such a specimen of manliness.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked him.

“Hmm,” John pondered. “I think so. I was in an arranged marriage while I was in a Satanic cult. But I haven’t had sex…with a woman…since then.”

“Do you ever want to get married?”

John read between the lines and started to smile. “Well,” he began, “I haven’t found a woman that can handle me yet.”

Alyssa chuckled. “I’m glad that I’m lost in the wilderness with you,” she said.

Moments later, the two heard a faint sound of a banjo. Alyssa was slightly unnerved. “Relax,” John said, “nothing out here can hurt us.”

The sound continued to get louder.

Before they could respond, three men with shotguns stood outside of their camp. They were rednecks, hillbillies. They wore no sleeves and their teeth were rotting out of their faces.

“Hey there, that’s a pretty girl you got,” one of them said.

“Don’t touch her,” John said.

“It’s not her we want,” another said as he walked up to John. “We just want a slice of that meat.”

John reached for his Bowie knife, but the first redneck lowered his gun. “Don’t think about it,” the man told him. The second man grabbed Alyssa then he tied her to a tree with a belt around her neck.

The ugliest redneck ordered John to stand up. “Now gimme that meat,” he said.

John’s back was turn towards Alyssa. The ugly man dropped to his knees then ripped away his loincloth. John’s buttcheeks were exposed to everyone. The two other men were cackling uncontrollably with their shotguns aimed at a helpless Alyssa.

She could see the ugly redneck’s face while he was on his knees. He had a look of surprise. But before he could react, John grabbed his head and put his mouth up to his crotch. The man began to gurgle.

“Now wait a minute,” one of the his buddies began to yell.

John turned around, swinging the ugly redneck with him. He was choking the man…with his penis down his throat.

“Let the girl go!” John yelled.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” another replied.

Finally the redneck turned blue and John let him fall to the ground. Before the other rednecks could get off a shot, a buck naked John grabbed the dead man’s shotgun. When he fired, a redneck’s brains were splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

The last surviving redneck began to panic. He missed John completely with his erratic shooting. As he lost sight of the naked man, he dropped to the ground.

“I got your girl man!” the redneck yelled. But John snuck up behind him with his Bowie knife.

“Drop the gun,” John ordered. The man complied and began to uncontrollably piss himself.

“I’m sorry,” the redneck said weeping.

“Only God forgives,” John replied. Then he slit his throat.

Blood once again splattered all over Alyssa’s face.

After untying Alyssa from the tree, John dragged the three bodies into the river. “I swear, my penis wasn’t erect when it was in that man’s mouth,” he told her.

Alyssa was shaking from all the excitement. A still naked, blood soaked John kneeled in front of her and took her hands. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he said.

“I’ve never seen something like that,” she replied.

“A man’s head get blown clean off?”

“No, your gargantuan p-p…”

“Penis? Yes, it’s 14 inches. Girth of about 5. Or 5.27 inches to be precise. Doctors said that I would never achieve a full erection. It takes too much blood flow. That’s why I don’t have a girlfriend. Oh the burdens I carry with such power.”

John stood up and grabbed a bag of trail mix. “Care for some nuts?” he asked.

Alyssa ran up to John and wrapped her arms around him. “Stay with me tonight,” she said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Alright,” he replied as he munched on some cashews, “but it’s supposed to be cold tonight. To keep warm, we must sleep completely nude under a sleeping bag.”

Alyssa nodded and stripped off her clothes. It was the first time she was ever naked in front of a man. Meanwhile, John continued to shovel cashews into his mouth.

Alyssa climbed into the sleeping bag and John followed after. They laid together cheek to cheek…ass cheek to ass cheek that is…and she enjoyed the warmth emanating from his body.

“John, I got to tell you,” Alyssa said, “I’ve waited my entire life to meet a man like you. I know we’re not married, but I want you to take me. Take me here. Please.”

A loud fart bellowed from underneath the sleeping bag. John was fast asleep. Disappointed, Alyssa continued to lay there, wishing…

…wishing to feel his arms around her.

TO BE CONTINUED….

the 1st coming (part iii)

Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.

At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.

“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.

Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.

He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.

Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”

“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.

Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.

“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”

***

Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.

“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.

When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.

“Are you okay?!” she asked him.

“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.

“I’ll go get help!”

“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”

“What can I do?”

“Just stay here with me.”

Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.

“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.

Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

She nodded in return.

The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.

The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.

Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.

“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”

As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.

“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”

“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.

“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”

“But why John? Why?”

“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”

Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”

With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”

John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

how do i get a call-in show?

So I’ve been locked in my shed breathing in paint and gasoline fumes for the last few days and I’ve been watching atheist call-in shows the entire time.

Then it occurred to me: I can do this!

I’ve always said that my dream job would be to have my own talk show a la Dr. Phil: People would come to me with their problems and I would dispense nothing but terrible, uneducated advice. (So, basically, Dr. Phil)

So now I want my own atheist call in show: people call in trying to convert me, I ask endless amount of questions, people spin their wheels to the point of insanity, and I convert every time. Of course, I believe in this faith until the next caller.

I’ll also give relationship advice, because if anyone knows romance, it’s definitely a balding, disheveled, 94 year old.

all the single fellas

Sometimes to feel better about myself, I’ll peruse the Reddit boards of single guys. Not the MGTOW or incel stuff, but the boards that discuss the general lives of single men.

Just to reiterate, being in a long term relationship is great. Top 10 experience for sure. And it’s alarmingly easy to be in one (if you’re an adult).

So it’s important to note that if you’re not in a romantic relationship and you want to be in one, it’s totally your fault.

So assuming that you’re a normal, functioning adult male, I have some excellent news for you: if you listen to me, you DEFINITELY won’t be a ladies man but you’ll find yourself a romantic partner soon, tomorrow probably.

How can I be so sure?

Well let me introduce you to two men:

Charles Bukowski
Slavoj Zizek

The first was an alcoholic writer that found success late in life. The other is a philosopher that eats from a trash can. But these two men could get it (ladies, don’t chime in).

What do you notice about these guys? Would you say they’re ‘good looking’? Are they well kempt? Do they look healthy and in shape? The answer to all three questions is a resounding ‘no’.

So how do (did) they do it?

The answer is easy: they don’t give a shit. But they also share another trait: they possess an ‘edge’.

Is this ‘edge’ confidence? Absolutely not. Bukowski was especially self-loathing and self-deprecating. Zizek, on the other hand, hardly realizes that he’s an actual person that moves through space and time.

Is it because they’re funny? In their own way, yes. But this humor derives from their character. It has nothing to do with them being especially cunning.

Are they ‘dangerous’? Lol! No.

So what is this ‘edge’?

Honestly, that’s difficult to say. Some might say a man has to be a “master of his domain”, but that sounds like nonsense. I imagine it depends on the man. But if I had to guess, I’d say this ‘edge’ has something to do with viewing the world with clarity and lacking pretension. Or, in another way, it’s accepting who you are and not giving a shit.

So if you want to be successful in relationships, or just want to get into one at all, one must “know thyself”.

Another thing is the misplaced emphasis on sex. Part of growing up is realizing that “everything is about sex except for sex.” Most of the time, I wish that I stayed home and watched porn instead.

Also, women piss, shit, fart, burp, and are every bit as disgusting as you and me. They know that WE do those things, but they love us nonetheless. So I don’t see what your problem is dude.

And stop saying your “single”. Just say you’re “not in a long term relationship currently”. Ladies can get away with announcing their singleship. It will always work out in their favor. It won’t for you. That’s just facts.

Just trying to help dude. Hate the game, not the messenger. Or whatever.

100 Girls: was that—a movie?

Kids forget, but there was a time before 9/11.

No one’s proud of it. But it happened.

Evidence for such a decade is the 2000 film 100 Girls. It’s hard to believe they used to make movies like that.

The plot’s pretty simple: some dude in college loses his virginity in an elevator like it’s some big deal. Then he spends the rest of the movie looking for this mystery girl in a dormitory.

His roommate also has a fucked up penis.

If this was a typical boner comedy, it probably would have been standard background noise.

You see, discussions on the differences between men and women used to be “interesting” to people. Not to me though. I thought girls were just boys with vaginas and left it at that. I would know because I’ve definitely seen a vagina. But 20 years ago, people didn’t know that.

So there were things like The Man Show, Kevin Smith films, American Pie, etc. The difference is though, occasionally those things would be funny.

100 Girls attempts to elevate the formula. And the moral of the story is this:

“Girls have boobs. But did you they also have personality? What a revelation!”

*Cue Bowling For Soup.

So be thankful that you live in a time of terrorism, pandemics, catastrophic climate change, massive wealth inequality, and dying democracies.

At least it isn’t the 90’s.

God smiled upon us, once

I wish I saw her coming so I could’ve prepared my heart for what was to come.

She appeared to me as if a dream.

Paralyzed. Awe struck. The words just wouldn’t come.

“Are you gonna eat those fries?” she asked.

I was. But I couldn’t tell her no.

She grabbed the fries and wondered out the Burger King. Yet I had to know.

I followed her out to the door. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Who are you? The police?” she replied.

I stood there frozen while she wondered into the woods.

How could God, with all his wrath and anger, make such beauty with this cursed creation?

I thought I’d never see Her again.

But fortune threw me for a spin.

I was pumping gas when she asked “can you give me a ride?”

I said, “sure thing baby. Where to?”

She replied, “anywhere but here.”

We rode around all night.

She took me up to the mountains. She said “you can drop me off here.” I told her “you don’t have to sleep there.”

So we went back to my place.

She took off her coat, then washed her face. I went for a smoke.

When she returned, she said “I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

I want to say more, but that’s just not my style.

The next morning, she left a note:

“I’m sorry to leave you, but I just can’t devote. I glide like a feather, that’s why I’m sane.”

I never learned Her name.

————————————————————

I wrote the first paragraph intending to be another dumbass story but somehow it became a really gay (in a good way) poem instead. Sorry 🤷‍♂️