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Mother's stratagem to keep a working daddy closer is to never let him know he was doing a banging good job. "Make them sweat, make them wonder but if you want to keep 'em don't ever tell them how great they are." I got it. The more a man thinks he's great the more chances of fulfilling the crippling desire to open other people's presents. Irk that one good spot left in his brain and he'll keep coming back around to try to figure it out. I can see a woman's idea of entrapment there. It suddenly occurred to me to accidentally apply it to a guy I was dating. He was daddy perfection and ejaculatory squish. After an aerobic session he asked me to concur that is was one of our best. Even though it was, I told him I had better. He topped himself every single time and I always answered the same. Why did I do that? I sadly dumped him because he was a camper. He kept threatening that we couldn't extend our relationship unless I went camping with him. Black daddies and city Puerto Ricans don't do woods. It doesn't make sense. He was one of the greatest but I don't camp.
My step-father must wonder with every dying breath, "why did l try so hard? She was never satisfied." 21-Dec-2020
Gay Mafia Secret: the real reason gay men and lesbian women don't get along is because they think we're gutter sluts and we think they're violent. 18-Dec-2020
If people really want to protect marriage they should make cheating, grounds for an automatic annulment. 17-Dec-2020
A worst fate for late in life is to be beholden to the people that abused you for most of it because misfortune has been visited upon you. I'm a child again. The battles I forged, the scars I tore, the people I thought I'd changed for goodness sake was for naught. People "put up with" before they can accept, if ever. Me Toos are things you shove under the rug. Never to be spoken about because it's too fucking late for that shit. It won't stop. It never stops. Especially now that all children are liberated from their sexuality. They are all equally delicious. We'll just call it something else.
I forgave my monsters and my perception of them as patrons of hell. We are the things they inhale to get a high from. How do we get high? The irreversible damage is done and nobody cares.
There are monsters hiding under our banner which qualifies anyone to abuse anyone and the pedos are having a ball with it. History has proven that there are consequences for too much sexual freedom. I have no idea if I was supposed to be gay because people decided it for me or because I wanted it. Sister vs Primos. For the sake of better future mental health, I went with the primos.
The campaigns that created the art of neighborly hostility has 20 years of failure to back up its frivolity. Stop fussing in the mirror and check your soul. We can't even decide if we want to live or die as a nation and that is everyone's fault. 11-Dec-2020
Happy Thanksgiving! Be safe. 25-Nov-2020
My sister and her brood are coercing my ailing mother and my heart replacement stepdad to enjoy Thanksgiving with her sons and their children, wives and friends. You know, like Oprah taught. There will be lots of hugging, plenty of food, loss of cognition, diaper twerking and a death right. They are immune because family love and God conquer all. Good job, Spanish news. Happy fucking Thanksgiving! (I'm mad!) 22-Nov-2020
I did get Blackula staked. I set him up with one of my horniest friends. The one that talks smack about having and getting the best skills. After the date. "How'd it go.""Nope, once was enough." I kept setting him up with slut after slut and they kept coming back with the same refrain. One couldn't go to the bathroom for weeks, some refused because it's rough on a nightshift and others didn't bother. Eventually, I either hooked him up with a good one or he found his own way to one. A legal one of course. 17-Nov-2020
The biggest dick I ever took claimed to be 18 1/2 inches. Chatroom talk lead to curiosity which lent me an address so I can knock on his door. I had no intention of getting fucked even though he announced that that was his preference. If it was true I wanted to see it, touch it and get off. Curiosity and boredom. He gave me a tour of a shrine he dedicated to his ex lover who held the record for severe hole damage and the most diaper changes. No man could handle him like his ex, not even a woman. Yippee for the dumb Colombian kid but I just wanted to see it so I could go home and jerk off to it or whatever. The size he described was impossible, I wanted to prove him wrong, pity him and maybe let him have at it with his regular sized dick. Even though I didn't measure it, It sure as hell looked like the dimensions he was so fond of describing. He whispered softly to me that if I let him in, he would be gentle and use a kit. The kit consisted of a lot of lube, straws with no holes and an ass stretching contraption made of plastic. I was going to be Lego fucked. I acquiesced as a kindly gay desperado but warned that any pinching and he'd have to pull out. He prepped me, began insertion and started to break-in when he hit the motherload and I panicked. Oh shit! He found a top's bottom glory. When you stop keegling and he goes in and hits the nono spot, he's going to fall in in love. Good for him but I thought our date would be about Frankstein and his monster not Blackula with his. It was an anatomy lesson I never forgot. How proud men are of a ginormous penis no one can take, except the sad little twink that ends up with a sloppy, drooping asshole and loss of sensation. I actually told him he should be straight. The thought of a little twink being wrecked for four years disabled me. The idea hurt me more than the actuality so I made him pull out, he nicely obliged and I left. I was still a slut with some dignity intact. It might not exactly have been 18 1/2" but it sure felt like it. Everywhere I went for six moths there he was. Looking at me intently and shredding me with his eyes. "You know I hit the spot, surrender to it you fucking cunt" he would beckon. Blackula lived to torture my ass. 16-Nov-2020
My Russian ex daddy would shove a finger up my ass and taste my dick when I came home from work to ensure I wasn't fucking around. Lesson: shower thoroughly with mild soap after every cheating fuck. 13-Nov-2020
All marriages are buffets. An everlasting line of choices, traditions and exotic flavors. Only the most attractive half are entitled to get extra sides but they are also the only ones stopping the marriage from boiling over. They're having too much fun. That's all that matters, right? 01-Nov-2020
An effect of sexual abuse is that you inherit a victim's persona even if you've surpassed it and predator abusive comprehension. The survivors are damaged goods pretending to blend into a world that's flashed forward around you. Our vulnerabilities succumb to the first clever wolf that help incorporate us into the new world so that we fit in and hate it. To cope, we become the victims they are. They are our daddy saviors. We think that the next one will fix what the other one did because this one is different. At least half of my LTRs were straight men with penchant for wee ones. They were not in denial about their sexuality they were just hiding. I happened to hit the jackpot.
My mother finished ex violence with more violence. The end to my abuse was to sucker punch the croc in the middle of Manhattan for stalking me at work and every where else. He fell down as a grandmother yelled "yeah, punch that old motherfucker!" She didn't even know our business. Everyone surrounded me to make sure I was all right and he ran off bloodied and embarrassed. MY mother and I never saw our stalkers again, my mother's broken bones and heart healed, her ex's bones got WWF broken and I moved back to my mother's house. I re-encountered my mother's ex, riding on an unlighted subway car after work. I wasn't sure until we descended from the tunnels and out into outdoor light. It was him, he had healed and was seething. His eyes bore through me and I felt a chill and a scent. Every flicker of light cast a Hitchcock shadow as I froze for fuck's sake. I had beat him once but it was a tough battle. Illegal drugs made him Hulkean. Even lesbian cop kickassers couldn't bring him down. He stared eerily at me through the longest ride of my life. (I will not bore you with rest.) 27-Oct-2020
I couldn't provide a dick pic for my daddy croak but I have the next best thing. When my gay friends asked why I wouldn't sit on daddy's lap I'd always say it was because I didn't want to sit on a telephone. They never got it. I hope this generation does. The telephone speaks for itself. Those fuckers hurt. 26-Oct-2020
I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.
My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.
I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.
(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020
The strangest part of the world that I will never understand is it's pretense. It's maddening to think we can become such a manufactured being. 25-Oct-2020