On being impressed

hoookay, so.

im a girl, i use that term loosely because in my dreams i have a mean dick that would make dirk diggler blush. so anyway, im in love with my best friend, SHE is just an attention whore and only keeps me around because i give the attention she wants whenever she wants.

shes a “ass-piring” singer. i write her fucking lyrics. i hate myself for being this bitches toilet paper, but i love the way she smells, and the way she grabs my wrist when she wants to make a point. id love to just throw her against a wall one day and slip my hand up that short slutty skirt of hers and give her her first orgasm, because she only dates closeted homos…. im serious, ever guy she dates or fucks is slightly feminine. should i take this as a sign that shes as sexually confused as i am?!

anyway, this bitch and me have been through a lot. were really close i suppose you can say. weve been involved in some three some action, and weve touched eachother, but last year we went to a party and i got ganged raped by the fucking basketball team, she left early to fuck some feminine fuck. so i slightly blame her for my high risk hpv, and she slightly blames herself, but as far as friends go its deff brought us closer.


i love her…

and i introduced her to coke last weekend. i think it might be the beginning to a beautifully tragic love story. look for it in a few years on a bookshelf and then a shitty remake from some sundance company.

want a cameo?

you can burst in during the scene when i blow a fat line off of her smooth pubic bone, then slipp my tounge… we’ll you get the picture.

anyway, you’ll burst in and say something crude yet amazingly thoughtful and introspective, in a way only you can.

write a book bitch. leave a mark, other then the blood stains on the fur rugg from a shitty supply.

love your shit, keep it coming…


Damn, bitch.

Send me those fucking lyrics.


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