Monday it is. I am still a bit worn out from yesterday, but.. (OnlyFans)

Monday it is.  I am still a bit worn out from yesterday, but we can work the kinks out as we go. So, where are we at today?  I don't know.  I got some badass outfits just waiting to be worn but no place to go.  I suppose I could take some pics in them if you want to see them.  Fuck, I am at a loss for things to say this morning.  I am just going to wing it.  What ends up on here stays on here, no rewrites, edits, or word photoshop, if that is even a thing.

Do you stick your hands in your pockets to hide your erection? You know, when your cock decides to stand up at the worst of times in the worst of places?  You know that draws more attention, and it is evident that you are trying to cover up an angry penis looking for attention?  I must be the exception to the rule because when I see a pant pole holding up the tent, the only thing I think about is what is on his mind.  It has to be something good, or it wouldn't be standing up. I don't know why it is so embarrassing for guys. It shouldn't be.  It's part of owning a human body. If you ask me, one of the greatest parts of owning a human body.  The first experience I ever had with a guy was with someone trying to hide his trouser pole with a notebook. I saw it and asked him what was under his notebook, and if he could have turned off a switch and died, he would have done so at that moment.  I was super curious about it.  He eventually let me see it trying to poke through his pants.  I solved his problem at his house several hours later.  True story.  The first handjob ever given by me.  To me, a guy having a trouser rocket is just like a guy who seems happy.  Good for him!

If you don't like trouser rockets, then you don't want to be anywhere near me.  I will make sure you have a hard dick at the absolute worst of times and places.  I love that shit.  I will make your dick stand straight out in the most embarrassing places and then loudly point out how much I like it in front of as many people as possible.  Nothing passes the time in line at the DMV than accepting the challenge of making your guy hard as steel while he is holding ticket number 69.  Don't worry. You can punish my insides with it later on. I am just saying.

I find it odd that people look at me like I screwed up in life.  I ended up being a dirty whore, cracked out, boozed up, living in squalor, and hating my life.  Nothing to show for all my troubles except a life of misery.  I get, I do.  That is the assumption that an older lady who lives a fair way up the street feels about me.  Small town talk travels fast around here. The only problem with all of that is only one thing applies.  I am a shameless dirty whore in the most exemplary aspect of the concept. I wouldn't trade it for the world—the rest of the stuff, not even close.  I don't drink because I'm not too fond of how it makes me feel or the taste.  Drugs, including weed, seem like a massive waste of time and money and numb the senses. So another hard pass on those.  Not doing either of the above has allowed me to make solid choices with finances and not to toot my own horn but the odds of you having a higher legit Fico score are slim.  I did things right, thanks to solid advice from the family over the years.  I wake up every morning, sometimes feeling guilty that I feel so good about my life and everything I have done.  When I say this, I swear that I mean it.  I truly wish everyone could feel it, and it sounds super fucking corny but fuck it, the joy I feel about life.  It pains me to see them hating on me because there is something negative in their lives.  That only goes so far, though.  They cross a point where I'm like, "it's on fuckface!"  So yes, I have ingested, had placed inside me in several orifices, and sprayed on me more sperm than a thousand chicks will ever see in a lifetime.  Regrets?  Yes.  Very much so.  I genuinely wish I had extracted more jizz from more testicles.  The rest of it?  Life in general?  Get the fuck out of here.  Money certainly isn't going to get me to change my life.  I had the chance to do that a dozen times over.  I could be sitting in a super-duper house, driving the nicest of cars, all that happy shit.  But then I would be bored shitless.  I like my cars to bump and bounce around.  I like my house reasonable.  Who wants to clean a huge house?  Not me.  Expensive shit breaks, tears, and stains.  I know this.  I fucked a guy on a couch that cost him 10K and leaked jizz onto it out of my asshole.  Ruined it, he said.  I could tell he was pissed, but he's the one who spermed my asshole.  Anyway, I have no interest in being loaded.  Comfortable is my sweet spot: no stress, less work, more life.  Fuck, why am I telling you all this?  I don't know.  I had nothing better to say at the moment, I guess.