Abrasive Semi-literate Male Seeks Horny Mute Bitch

CleverCowardice

Literotica Guru
Joined
Oct 19, 2008
Posts
1,857
Does the written word make you moist? Are you frequently overwhelmed by an insatiable carnal impulse to pull your panties aside and plunge three fingers into your sopping wet cunt? Do you enjoy shutting the fuck up?

If you like diddlin' yourself while reading some slightly better than mediocre filth and you know how to keep your damn mouth shut, then you might be the girl or, more realistically, man-pretending-to-be-girl for me.

I am not looking for audience participation here.

Don't give me suggestions.
I'm not interested in your role-play scenarios.
I couldn't give less of a shit about your fantasies.
I don't want to know how you're feeling, what you're doing, or if you're enjoying the experience.

I will accept nudie photos, but you'd better be hot. Legitimately hot, not "hot for an amateur porn site" hot. But if you're taking your pictures with your cellphone in what looks like a dimly lit bathroom from some B-grade torture porn flick, don't fucking bother. Buy a real camera, slut.

Where was I? Eh. Doesn't matter. I'm already bored with you fucking people. You disgust me.

Show's over. Get the fuck out of here!
 
No bathroom photos. Gotcha.

What about kitchen pictures? Garage? Mudroom? You know, make 'em real dirty.
 
No bathroom photos. Gotcha.

What about kitchen pictures? Garage? Mudroom? You know, make 'em real dirty.

What did I say about suggestions? I was all set to give you the hottest paragraph and a half of sticky, slippery, sweat-drippin' nastiness to ever penetrate your sweet little eyeholes but you fucking blew it. Now I'm completely flaccid and the commercial break is over.
 
What did I say about suggestions? I was all set to give you the hottest paragraph and a half of sticky, slippery, sweat-drippin' nastiness to ever penetrate your sweet little eyeholes but you fucking blew it. Now I'm completely flaccid and the commercial break is over.
Fuck. Back to the damn olympics.
 
What did I say about suggestions? I was all set to give you the hottest paragraph and a half of sticky, slippery, sweat-drippin' nastiness to ever penetrate your sweet little eyeholes but you fucking blew it. Now I'm completely flaccid and the commercial break is over.

brag brag brag.......men are always saying they are gonna give us a full paragraph and a half then guess what.........it's three sentences and they are finished and downstairs raiding the fridge.
 
brag brag brag.......men are always saying they are gonna give us a full paragraph and a half then guess what.........it's three sentences and they are finished and downstairs raiding the fridge.

Some guys always say they'll last longer than they actually do.

But that's mainly because, eh, at least the important person came, right?
 
What did I say about suggestions? I was all set to give you the hottest paragraph and a half of sticky, slippery, sweat-drippin' nastiness to ever penetrate your sweet little eyeholes but you fucking blew it. Now I'm completely flaccid and the commercial break is over.

Oh. I thought you meant writing or RP suggestions. My bad.
 
What did I say about suggestions? I was all set to give you the hottest paragraph and a half of sticky, slippery, sweat-drippin' nastiness to ever penetrate your sweet little eyeholes but you fucking blew it. Now I'm completely flaccid and the commercial break is over.
Well?????
Just sayin!
 
I just feel like you are going about this in the wrong way... Accept the Am pix from the bathroom as long as the chick flushes first. At least that shows she is trying to do a good job for you!
 
I just feel like you are going about this in the wrong way... Accept the Am pix from the bathroom as long as the chick flushes first. At least that shows she is trying to do a good job for you!

Well, I was primarily referring to those offensively unimaginative mirror shots. You know the ones: all the sexy, intimate lighting of a seedy dive bar giving you the impression that everything in the room would feel grimy if you touched it, including, and maybe especially, the girl, who's standing in front of a sink, the counter cluttered with ten million bottles and aerosol cans and cream tubes and...

Okay, let's be serious for a moment. What the fuck is with you bitches and all your goddamn grooming paraphernalia? How much shit do you need to spray, spritz, smear, slather and spackle onto yourself before you feel beautiful? Fucking stop. You don't need all that shit; you're gorgeous exactly as you are. Or you aren't. In which case, unless there's a wish-granting leprechaun in one of those bottles, save your money, accept your frizzy hair, non-existent eyelashes and dry, flaky skin and throw that shit away so I can maybe get two friggin' inches for my toothbrush, aftershave and deodorant. Holy Christ! I'm gonna have a damn brain aneurysm here.

Right. Back to the photos.

Let's see. Shitty lighting, filthy chick, cluttered countertop... Oh, right. And the girl is standing there, not really posing, not trying to be sexy, just standing there in her mismatched bra and panties with a blank, dead-eyed expression on her stupid face while looking down at the goddamn phone in her hand! It makes me want to punch a baby whenever a woman in porn looks at the camera instead of at the guy whose dick is in her mouth but, I swear, that looking at your phone shit is a thousand times worse. If you're going to be looking at the phone anyway, why the hell do you need a mirror? Just turn the fucking thing around and take a goddamn picture of yourself already. You don't need the mirror! Or, you know, you could use the reflection in the mirror to look at the screen on your phone if you really want to be sure that carnival of sadness is in frame. At least then we wouldn't be subjected to that shitshow clusterfuck going on around your sink.

Um. So, yeah. That was my chief concern. I wasn't even thinking about a toilet, flushed or otherwise, being in frame. Until now. Now I'm positively horrified at the thought of a girl deliberately posing in front of a loaded commode, the camera held at arm's length, with her face in the foreground, leaning back all gangsta, a satisfied sneer on her lips as she proudly points behind her...to a massive dump just filling the bowl. And, God help me, it's captioned. "Jersey grrl representin' - I DID THAT SHIT!"

Why? Why would you put that image in my head? The fuck is wrong with you? Now I have to jam an ice pick into my brain to try and stab out my mind's eye. Thanks. Thanks a fuckin' bunch. You're off my Christmas card list.
 
Well, I was primarily referring to those offensively unimaginative mirror shots. You know the ones: all the sexy, intimate lighting of a seedy dive bar giving you the impression that everything in the room would feel grimy if you touched it, including, and maybe especially, the girl, who's standing in front of a sink, the counter cluttered with ten million bottles and aerosol cans and cream tubes and...

Okay, let's be serious for a moment. What the fuck is with you bitches and all your goddamn grooming paraphernalia? How much shit do you need to spray, spritz, smear, slather and spackle onto yourself before you feel beautiful? Fucking stop. You don't need all that shit; you're gorgeous exactly as you are. Or you aren't. In which case, unless there's a wish-granting leprechaun in one of those bottles, save your money, accept your frizzy hair, non-existent eyelashes and dry, flaky skin and throw that shit away so I can maybe get two friggin' inches for my toothbrush, aftershave and deodorant. Holy Christ! I'm gonna have a damn brain aneurysm here.

Right. Back to the photos.

Let's see. Shitty lighting, filthy chick, cluttered countertop... Oh, right. And the girl is standing there, not really posing, not trying to be sexy, just standing there in her mismatched bra and panties with a blank, dead-eyed expression on her stupid face while looking down at the goddamn phone in her hand! It makes me want to punch a baby whenever a woman in porn looks at the camera instead of at the guy whose dick is in her mouth but, I swear, that looking at your phone shit is a thousand times worse. If you're going to be looking at the phone anyway, why the hell do you need a mirror? Just turn the fucking thing around and take a goddamn picture of yourself already. You don't need the mirror! Or, you know, you could use the reflection in the mirror to look at the screen on your phone if you really want to be sure that carnival of sadness is in frame. At least then we wouldn't be subjected to that shitshow clusterfuck going on around your sink.

Um. So, yeah. That was my chief concern. I wasn't even thinking about a toilet, flushed or otherwise, being in frame. Until now. Now I'm positively horrified at the thought of a girl deliberately posing in front of a loaded commode, the camera held at arm's length, with her face in the foreground, leaning back all gangsta, a satisfied sneer on her lips as she proudly points behind her...to a massive dump just filling the bowl. And, God help me, it's captioned. "Jersey grrl representin' - I DID THAT SHIT!"

Why? Why would you put that image in my head? The fuck is wrong with you? Now I have to jam an ice pick into my brain to try and stab out my mind's eye. Thanks. Thanks a fuckin' bunch. You're off my Christmas card list.


My job here is complete. *laughs maniacally as I fade off into three distance, thinking, I guess I won't post that puc there even though the toilet is clean*
 
Well, I was primarily referring to those offensively unimaginative mirror shots. You know the ones: all the sexy, intimate lighting of a seedy dive bar giving you the impression that everything in the room would feel grimy if you touched it, including, and maybe especially, the girl, who's standing in front of a sink, the counter cluttered with ten million bottles and aerosol cans and cream tubes and...

Okay, let's be serious for a moment. What the fuck is with you bitches and all your goddamn grooming paraphernalia? How much shit do you need to spray, spritz, smear, slather and spackle onto yourself before you feel beautiful? Fucking stop. You don't need all that shit; you're gorgeous exactly as you are. Or you aren't. In which case, unless there's a wish-granting leprechaun in one of those bottles, save your money, accept your frizzy hair, non-existent eyelashes and dry, flaky skin and throw that shit away so I can maybe get two friggin' inches for my toothbrush, aftershave and deodorant. Holy Christ! I'm gonna have a damn brain aneurysm here.

Right. Back to the photos.

Let's see. Shitty lighting, filthy chick, cluttered countertop... Oh, right. And the girl is standing there, not really posing, not trying to be sexy, just standing there in her mismatched bra and panties with a blank, dead-eyed expression on her stupid face while looking down at the goddamn phone in her hand! It makes me want to punch a baby whenever a woman in porn looks at the camera instead of at the guy whose dick is in her mouth but, I swear, that looking at your phone shit is a thousand times worse. If you're going to be looking at the phone anyway, why the hell do you need a mirror? Just turn the fucking thing around and take a goddamn picture of yourself already. You don't need the mirror! Or, you know, you could use the reflection in the mirror to look at the screen on your phone if you really want to be sure that carnival of sadness is in frame. At least then we wouldn't be subjected to that shitshow clusterfuck going on around your sink.

Um. So, yeah. That was my chief concern. I wasn't even thinking about a toilet, flushed or otherwise, being in frame. Until now. Now I'm positively horrified at the thought of a girl deliberately posing in front of a loaded commode, the camera held at arm's length, with her face in the foreground, leaning back all gangsta, a satisfied sneer on her lips as she proudly points behind her...to a massive dump just filling the bowl. And, God help me, it's captioned. "Jersey grrl representin' - I DID THAT SHIT!"

Why? Why would you put that image in my head? The fuck is wrong with you? Now I have to jam an ice pick into my brain to try and stab out my mind's eye. Thanks. Thanks a fuckin' bunch. You're off my Christmas card list.

Too many words!

Horny mute bitches don't wanna read.
 
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