She fucking hates me. And it feels great. Oh, yea, I should probably tell you what happened that put me in such an uber happy mood. See, the other day some [The Nice Lady] happened upon my naughtylicious space on the whore wide web and made the mistake(?) of reading more than a bit of what I wrote. And boy-o-boy did she has a point of view sharp enough to stake a vampire.
Apparently, I am supposed to give a fuck (uh-oh, there’s that word again; she thinks that word is just horrid and despicable and that I should speak knowing her god can hear me) what others think about what I say and do and write. See, according to [The Nice Lady] I should be living a Jesus-centered existence where my days are spent praying and frolicking and spreading her god’s word instead of talking about blow jobs, snatch licking, ass fucking, threesomes, adultery, drug use, drinking and any other incredibly fun and non-holy thing U can think of.
If I am ever that goddamned boring please feed me the poison apple-shaped chocolate and leave me to rot.
Did you know there are people out there who will pray for the souls of the wicked, even if they’ve never met said wicked soul holder? I’ve met a few Carrie’s Moms before, and yea they were annoying as fuck. But they also did not read a large number of dirty writings before feeling the need to bless me with the white-bearded one’s love. And that kind of says something. Imagine, if you will, you find an old tape. And on that old tape, a dirty thing occurs (I must be considerate of those who feel sex-talk is wrong and inappropriate, like [The Nice Lady] and refrain from giving you ideas like ‘a coke-filled orgy full of penis-less Justin Bieber clones dry humping each others’ vaginas’ shit, oops). Now, how many of those blind-inducing horror scenes would you have to sit through to know it was pure, Satan’s cum-covered evil right there?
“Oh, Justin’s taking his belt off. RUN!”
Yup, thought so. You’d flick that baby-dick’d shit right off and pray for the demented soul who dreamed it up. You would watch numerous sequels before deciding someone really need a Jesus intervention.
So what would [The Nice Lady] peruse so much of my site before becoming so concerned? At first, I thought she needed to prove her point that my stuff is offensive and wrong and immoral and all those other terms people use when they’re turned on and ashamed all at once. But I admit that. Hello, porn without pictures. There’s nothing sweet and sensual in my stories. Its nasty, naughty, step by step wet and sticky fuck times.
So than I wondered where she started. With The Black Book? Right there she’d know what I’m all about. From The Whore Doesn’t Spend the Night I showcased the slutty truth. Yet she read on. Was it Crescent Point? Did she have a heart attack or cum? And don’t get me started on Hollywood Harem. Or rather, don’t get her started.
What is so wrong with consensual sex between three or more partners? I asked [The Nice Lady] but she has yet to respond.
So, about the giving a shit what others feel? I don’t. No offense, but this is my shit. And if you’re still reading than you must like my shit. Or you’re a masochist. Either way, you’re spending the time to read this (and possibly flog yourself after but if that’s your thing…). Do I worry I’m going to upset someone? More like hope I do. After all, if you’re not pissing anyone off, you’re doing it wrong.
Oh, and about all the  (no idea what to call those things) I’m trying to be nice. See, what I mean by [The Nice Lady] is [The Annoying Owner Of A Withered, Dying Cunt That Needs To Get Ass Rammed And Mega Fisted Before Taking That Crucifix And Fucking It Till She Feels The Cumming Of The Lord Across Her Pancake On Nails Titties].
That wasn't too mean, was it?